#so now knowing that some people want me to be bold is odd. Refreshing and comforting but odd nonetheless.

[six-improbable-things]

Man, being told by a friend you really like that you're cool and badass is the best compliment you can possibly get, I think.

[engeorged]

Awakenings I

A series of short stories describing someone’s gainer or feeder awakening. 7 days and 7 stories. Reblog and share and if you hear yourself in them let me know!!

The Sculptor

Oliver had always prided himself on his artistic vision. A misunderstood, bohemian soul, he spent his days in his cluttered studio, surrounded by half-finished sculptures, the smell of clay and paint always in the air. His life was a blend of carefree creativity and chaotic energy, reflected in his abstract sculptures—pieces that were bold, unconventional, and, unfortunately, not selling.

For a while, Oliver managed to scrape by, doing odd jobs and selling the occasional piece. But as months went on, it became clear that his dream of being entirely self-sufficient through his art alone was slipping away. The reality was harsh—his abstract works weren’t drawing in buyers, and bills were piling up. Reluctantly, he turned to something he’d never wanted to do: sculpting people for money.

Etsy became his lifeline. Oliver’s profile offered custom sculptures—tasteful, realistic, but still with that touch of his artistic flair. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but the commissions paid the rent. The clients came and went, each one wanting a perfect replica of themselves or a loved one. But nearly all of them had the same request: “Make me look a little better,” they’d say. A trimmer waist here, more defined muscles there. Everyone wanted an idealised version of themselves, a polished image they could display with pride.

Oliver found it frustrating, even soul-crushing at times. He longed to sculpt what was real, what was true, not some airbrushed fantasy.

Then Ethan walked in.

Ethan was different from Oliver’s usual clients. He was in his early thirties, broad-shouldered and fit, but with a small but rounded belly that was impossible to miss. As Ethan stepped into the studio, Oliver noticed how the fabric of his shirt stretched slightly over the curve of his stomach, how it moved subtly as he breathed.

Ethan had seen Oliver’s ad and wanted a sculpture of himself—“as I am now,” he said with a laugh, patting his belly. Oliver was taken aback; here was someone who didn’t want to be trimmed or perfected, but simply wanted to be captured as he was, without shame or pretence. The request was so unusual, so refreshing, that Oliver agreed almost immediately.

They began the process right away. Ethan stood shirtless in the centre of the studio, the afternoon light streaming in through the large windows, casting shadows over the soft curves of his body. Oliver approached the block of clay, hands ready, and began to mould. His fingers pressed into the cool, pliable material, shaping and sculpting, bringing Ethan’s body to life in the clay.

As Oliver’s hands moved over the clay, something strange began to happen. He found himself drawn to the curve of Ethan’s belly, the way it gently protruded, firm yet soft. His fingers lingered there longer than necessary, shaping and reshaping the roundness with a careful touch. The more he worked, the more he found himself fascinated by it.

Days passed, and Oliver found himself looking forward to Ethan’s sessions. The casual conversations they shared were pleasant, but Oliver’s mind was increasingly preoccupied with his body, with the way it filled out Ethan’s frame in such a natural, almost mesmerising way. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt something stirring inside him—a kind of attraction he hadn’t anticipated, an awakening of desires he’d never explored before.

It wasn’t just the way Ethan looked, though that was part of it. It was how comfortable he seemed in his own skin, how he embraced his body as it was. This confidence, this ease, captivated Oliver, and as he sculpted, he found himself slowing down the sculpting to spend more time with him.

One night, unable to sleep, Oliver found himself sneaking down to his studio. The unfinished sculpture stood in the centre, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. Oliver’s eyes were drawn immediately to the belly, the way it jutted out just slightly more than it had in real life.

His hands itched to touch it, to mould it further. He moved closer, his fingers tracing the contours of the clay, feeling the smoothness, the subtle curves. It felt almost forbidden, this desire to make Ethan’s belly bigger, more exaggerated, but Oliver couldn’t resist. There was something intensely satisfying about adding more clay, seeing the belly swell in size under his hands.

He worked in a trance-like state, his breath quickening as the belly grew larger and larger. Each addition of clay brought a new wave of excitement, a thrill that he hadn’t felt in years. This was more than just sculpting—this was discovery, an exploration of something deep within himself that he’d never acknowledged before.

When he finally stepped back to admire his work, the sculpture was different—Ethan’s belly was now much larger, rounder, almost impossibly so. The rest of the figure remained true to life, but the belly had taken on a life of its own, dominating the sculpture in a way that was both surreal and intensely alluring.

Oliver stood there, breathing heavily, his mind racing with thoughts and feelings he couldn’t quite understand. What had he done? And more importantly, why did it feel so right? Why did it feel like he’d finally tapped into something real, something that resonated with him on a level he’d never reached before?

As he stared at the sculpture, the answer began to form in his mind. This wasn’t just about Ethan or his belly. It was about Oliver, about the desires he’d suppressed, the parts of himself he’d never fully explored. Something had awakened in him, a new passion, a new direction for his art and his life.

And as he looked at the oversized, rounded belly on the sculpture, Oliver knew he couldn’t go back to the way things were. This was his truth now, and he was ready to embrace it fully.

For the rest of my stories click here

[lustrous-dawn]

“You’re lucky I can’t drink this evening, I made a promise to Nahkti,” Zhen complained as he folded his arms. Zhen and Caelus sat at the table in his quarters, legs crossed, across from each other. What an odd pair-the Phoenix of Johto, and the Emperor of the Dragons. Zhen swallowed, unsure of what the dragon may be thinking. Caelus kept his expression otherwise smooth when Zhen suggested they talk in a more private area. 

Caelus quirked his brow. “Does this drink inhibit you in a manner?”

“It helps me relax from the edge.” Zhen made a face. Caelus narrowed his eyes. Zhen stiffened under the dragon’s sudden scrutiny. “Maybe it hinders me, just a tad bit,” he said lightheartedly as he motioned with his hands. He needed something to take off the edge. Being in the Rayquaza’s presence was overwhelming. It reminded him of the Lugia at the gala, the pressure causing his gut to sink. 

“Then it cannot be good.” Caelus frowned. “With this, I agree with her.”

“You’re not any fun.” Zhen groaned at the stern tone. He rummaged through the bags, snatching up a piece of sun-dried Inkay, surume by the locals here. “But what would you know about fun anyway? I bet you stick to the skies and hardly come down and deal with your people.” Tearing off some chewy squid with his teeth, he let out an irritated sigh. 

__________

Ah the Phoenix is bold here. Zhen was crass in his manners but it was the first exposure Caelus had to his true nature. It was… different but refreshing. The dragon's shoulders once hiked up in a stiff manner relaxed as he exhaled.

“That is not true.” Caelus denied. The sounds of quiet murmurs in his ears, Nahkti tucking the children to bed no doubt. “I may have a duty but the concept of fun is not unknown to me.”

Zhen wagged a piece of squid, “You're a stick in the mud.”

“Pardon?” A sound of genuine confusion.

“Duty this. Duty that,” Zhen mocked. “I bet your way of fun is meditating on some rock.”

“Meditation is a wonderful way of releasing stress-”

“See! Boring!” Zhen had been leaning forward. He leaned back to snort, “Only old ones would think that kind of stuff is fun!” 

Caelus pinched the bridge of brow, squeezing his eye shut. “I’ve lived millions fold your years but it would be folly to believe that is the only way to have fun.”

“Gah! Now you remind me!” Zhen massaged his temples. “You speak to me like I'm some kid!” 

Caelus raised a brow. 

“Don't even bother. You give me a headache. It's a struggle to wrap my head around it and I'm done trying.”

“I see this place gives you confidence…” Caelus commented slowly. Seeing how open Zhen was with him now, he could only assume so. Folding his arms across his chest, his eye scanned the room. Quaint; they fell upon the shrine that was still being worked on. A hand quickly obscured his view, Zhen scooping it up. “And that piece?” Eyes quietly noting Zhen’s darkened expression as he cradled the wooden figurine close.

“None of your business,” Zhen hissed. 

Guarded, eyes filled with mistrust. Caelus was no fool. He knew it would take time to cultivate a bond with the Ho-oh before him. “You wish to have a place of worship then?” 

Silence between them. When Zhen spoke, his voice was brittle, “Worship?” hollowed laugh. “I only want a place to call my own.” A look of longing at the shrine he held so carefully in his hands. “You probably don't get it. I just want somewhere to call home.”

“The Tower was not this place for you?”

Something dark crawled on Zhen's face, his hold of the figurine tightening. “No. It was not.”

A strange expression over the dragon's. “I have but many dwellings to sleep at.” Berate of life, merely another lair for the Rayquaza's slumber when tired. “But the comforts of home,” Their eyes met, sympathy in his golden gaze, “I understand what you truly want.”

“I don't want your pity.” Rough words. “You're here to straighten me out.”

“I am here to help you,” Caelus corrected him with an infinite amount of patience contained in his voice. “Just as I had with Reiko many years ago.” 

Hesitation. Zhen paused, thinking. 

“Say what is on your mind,” Caelus said plainly. 

“Who is Reiko? This isn't the first time I've heard this lady's name now.”

“From whom have you heard this?” 

Zhen rubbed the back of his neck, nervousness skittering behind his eyes. “Some one-winged Lugia.” He never got the name of the Leviathan, only the sheer power of the beast scared him shirtless. “Susano.” He found himself saying, shaking his head as he did so. What the hell? What came over him-

The room became very cold, the flames stoking the lanterns immediately snuffed out. The wind began to stir between, like vacuum, depriving the room of much needed oxygen. Zhen fell to his knees, gasping for air, eyes tearing as he struggled to lift his head to see the bellowing winds swirling around Caelus as he moved to tower over him.

“Cael-”

The dragon's claws unfurled, tearing through cloth as Caelus held him high in the air, dangling by his shirt. “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t k-know!” Zhen struggled, his lungs screaming for air, his legs thrashed as Caelus held him in the air.

An ominous note as Caelus held him for precious seconds longer before the gales stopped. Precious air filled his lungs as he gasped for air, chasing the cold away. Fear as Caelus knelt to his level, his eye seething as he hissed, “Susano has done this to me in our last bout!"

Ripping the patch from his eye, he revealed there truly was no eye, only angry furrows made by the raking of claws. “He should have died when I took his wing and now I am to believe he is alive?!” 

“As sure as I am b-breathing,” Zhen croaked. Struggling to sit up right, he casted a glare at Caelus, “nearly killed me.”

A pause. The anger in Caelus’ gaze began to recede, the dragon held him to his feet. “It was not my intention to harm you. It is… complicated.” He sounded genuine, and placed a hand over his heart. “Forgive me.”

A sygtian look. “I can't have two gods out to kill me.” 

“He tried to?”

“Well yes and then he changed his mind.” The Lugia was vexing. “Said Reiko was still within me.” 

Caelus stilled. He shifted, ignoring Zhen's protests as he placed a hand over his chest, over his heart. 

Then everything shifted. It was almost as if he was bathed within the sun's glow, warmth spreading to the very tips of his fingers. 

“Reiko?” A tumulus note from Caelus.

Startled, Zhen slapped away his hand. “The hell was that?!” 

Taking his hand, Caelus said firmly, “This. This is why I must help you. If I do not, it will be as Susano had said to you.” 

[katarinapaui]

The Beauty of Deviating Norms in Strange Magic

Katrina Pauline M. Samillano

Have you ever stumbled upon a movie you didn’t think you’d enjoy, only to find yourself strangely enchanted? That was me with Strange Magic.

Now before we delve into it deeper, would you believe me if I say that this is the leading man of the movie?

Surprised? Looks like a typical villain of an animated film, but yes. This is the leading man in the actual film.

Before we talk about it, let’s discuss the facts first because, by the end of this blog, I might convince you to watch this movie. Strange Magic is an animated musical film by George Lucas inspired by Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, released in 2015. The movie takes place in a fantastical world divided into two realms—the light and the dark. It's a story where fairies, goblins, elves, and magical creatures interact in unexpected ways, all set to a soundtrack of iconic pop and rock hits.

I guess I won’t say a lot about the plot anymore because we want a spoiler-free experience in this blog.

Now, let me tell you a backstory when I watched this film for the first time. I was like… ”This movie is absolutely ridiculous! Who casts an ugly leading man and makes him end up with a beautiful young butterfly?”  Another thing, why did the girl choose a rock metalhead over a sweet romantic matinee idol type of guy? Well, I get that the latter has a cheating issue but my 11-year-old self (take note: 11 years old) would rather choose him than an ugly and scary-looking insect with a weird musical taste. (Disclaimer: I was young, okay. Please don’t judge me 😭🙏 it’s all different now, I swear.)

This movie actually received various criticisms in the past. This movie was released after the award-nominated and award-winning animated film, Epic. For some significant number of people, they believe that this movie is a cheaper copy of Epic. Well, plot-wise, the two were entirely different. But I can say that the animated elements are somewhat similar, though, not totally. Some also think that the oddness of the film is refreshing and the deviation of a typical image of a male lead is a bold move to do.

Well, if you’re gonna ask me about my opinion about the movie, personally, I’d say that it’s cute. It was actually the first animated movie I saw as a child that introduced me to the deviation of typical leading actors.

Usually, in the early 2000s, such as the generation I grew up in, leading ladies are depicted as someone soft, very feminine, like a Barbie doll. While leading men look like a handsome knight in shining armor, like a matinee idol.

This movie, however, defied that by representing a not-so-typical depiction of a man and woman. Although I believe that this movie is not for everyone, I still think that this movie is for me. Watching it as an adult makes me giggle because I can’t believe how (for the lack of a term to use) narrow-minded I was as a child.

I also love how the female lead had a strong demeanor in facing her cheater ex. I think she slayed the part where she knew her worth and walked out of the relationship and never looked back when she needed to. 

The thing that interests me most about this movie is the iconic pop and rock hits, reimagined. Walang tapon ang mga music! The artists are so good. All are so worth listening to. In fact, as I write this blog entry, I’m listening to the songs featured in the movie. You can check it out on Spotify, if you want. [Strange Magic (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)]

I’ve said it, but I’ll say it again. I believe that this movie might not be for everyone. But for those who enjoy movies like these—the one that deviates from the norm, you should give Strange Magic a chance. And when you do, let me know—did it enchant you as much as it did me?

[mayullla]

Mayu helphelp I wanna revamp my writing blog’s theme @/bamboowrites and I wanna learn 🥺🤲🏻🪤

look at other people's blogs that you admire and mix and match the ideas from there you would find something that you might be satisfied with.

consider if the BFY and DNI are absolutely important for your blog... some people just don't bother to read those things if they are in another link. having it on the pinned post above the masterlist link can help as they end up glancing at it just dont make it too long if you do.

now the theme itself depends on what you are going for but you can go for a. pick a theme like maybe cottagecore, gothic and such and build a mood board from it on Pinterest and from those pictures choose the colours for like the accent? b. would be picking the colors first (maybe a certain shade of color, or maybe a palette you like) and then the pictures. (another idea/way could be like a "3 words" too, like my main account theme @mayulli has a star, royalty, navy theme, but not necessarily galaxy tho. My reblog account @mayullii focused more on a princess fairytale pink.)

Build a pinterest board, everything usually starts from there to be honest lolll

Now for my own... uhhhhhhhhh okay this is mainly for the people who cant pick a theme and wants them all (or at least most)

A lot of people say that sticking to one theme and staying with it is a good idea and to be honest, they are not wrong, and absolutely right it is just that I don't like staying in one theme I guess lol? Example:

Something like this! Or-

Look at all those differences hehehe. Nowhere here do you see green forest themes except for like Diasomnia (twst)? And then I also have the borders of all my writing posts:

I have like probably over 100 fic/original oneshots by now all that uses the borders above which is like alot and gonna be supppperrrr tiring to edit everything if I think about swapping everything. (will cry if I must.) but one thing is very obvious in all the pictures is that all have this pastel, soft dark, neutral tones, and has a mix of flowers, nature/outdoor and vintage themes/vibes.

I tried to make the blog as colorful as possible with the mindset that I will be changing my blog theme often. I just made the blog take all the themes that I personally like and mix and match. The forest green I currently have matched well with all the leaves in the pictures above cause of the leaves of the flowers. With an odd one here and there, but it is not necessarily painful to the eyes.

For me, with all this, I have multiple options of things I like so from like a white background which I can make it look like a canvas where the pop of colors would be from the multiple masterlists, blue where you could call it the outside/sky and the posts are the flowers essentially a garden, dusty tones, most pastel colors but more so the neutral tones like both dark and light academia would be a-okay most of the time. princesses and fairytales also~

Now what would not match with everything here would be neon colors, most bold/bright colors (my heartslabyul dorm masterlist is suffering rn cause of that red), pure black, city street and downtown, sci-fi stuff would stick out like a sore thumb for me but they are themes that I don't care for much so it is fine.

It doesn't have to flower only, to be honest if you want you can go for something jewels which has an array of colors, or maybe fabrics/clothes as like the main theme. really just make a pin board and add everything that you like and pick all the common stuff they have with each other.

Ah! one more thing that probs might help but who knows but like as you saw my twst wonderland masterlists are all different colors. So I use gray as like a divider from the main theme and the dorms. I also did the same for General/multiple characters masterlist and school staff and other characters. The gray is like a refresh for the eyes in a way (like how you sniff coffee when you smell multiple perfumes so that the scent won't mix?) so that the color of my main theme and the masterlist theme won't mix/crash in the eye much.

Genshin is genshin lol but the colours matches well with the colours of the flowers i have so it is fine. my original works masterlist is white as it was part of the white theme that i had once before, but since it is not related to any fandom it is essentially my own empty canvas (lol) so i kept it like that, naruto masterlist is obviously yellow cause... naruto lolll

[zealouscanonindeer]

12. Prepare to run, Holmes

There was already another cab waiting at the front of the estate by the time we pulled up. I had given Leopold explicit instructions before we'd left to detain anyone who came to the estate and tried to take away any of the decorations, particularly the flower arrangements, until we'd returned. When the butler greeted us at the door, the look of immense relief was evident on his face.

"Mr Holmes... Miss Emily," he said stoically, "You will find in the sitting room two people with whom I expect you will wish to speak. To be honest, sir, I was starting to wonder how much longer you'd be." He stopped suddenly, and glanced at Emily "Miss Emily, what has happened to you?"

"Nothing to worry about, Leopold," she replied with as much of a smile as her swollen lip would allow, "Mr Holmes and I ran into a few difficulties during out investigation."

"It looks as though you were in a fight!"

"We were," she summarised, "Now, I'm sure we don't want to keep our guests waiting, do we, Leopold?"

"Er. No, Miss Emily," said Leopold, caught slightly off-balance by Emily's matter-of-fact response, "Follow me, please."

"And where is Mr Cartwright?" I asked, "I noticed that the family sedan was not in its accustomed position."

Leopold glanced at me mildly; countless years of training allowed the butler to not even betray his exasperation. "The master is away on an errand - and a good thing, too, if I may be so bold - but I expect him to return at any minute."

I sighed. "I would have preferred that he be there for the confrontation - after all, it is his daughter's jewelry that is at stake - but I suppose it cannot be helped. Lead on."

In the sitting room we found the large deliveryman, and a slender six-year old child with overgrown blonde hair, a shirt two sizes too large for him, and an expression of naive innocence upon his face. They both looked up as we entered, and immediately the man's face drew into a frown as he recognised us. It appeared that my last vision of Emily clawing at his face from behind was genuine, as on his left cheek were three parallel scratches, which would have appeared to be nail gouges even had the marks made by the broken nails not been in evidence. "Good afternoon," I said to them in my usual tone, which I expect sounded completely at odds with my costume, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this young lady is Miss Emily Cartwright - the woman whose jewelry you took."

The man flinched violently at my accusation, and the boy cowered close to him.

"Now," I continued, "Would you like to explain how it was done, or shall I? One way or another, it makes no difference to me. But to start, I would like to know your names. It makes things so much easier during conversation."

"My name is Arthur McKinley," the man said in a resigned tone, "and this is my son Adam - but I swear to you, we don't know anything about any burglary!"

I saw Emily's eyes flashing with something dangerous during this denial, and I placed a warning hand on her shoulder.

"Shall I refresh your memory then?" I asked in placid rhetoric, "Of course, you may feel free to correct me if I misstep. You may recall, four days ago, acquiring a gold pocket-watch from a stout man with a moustache. In the process of picking his pocket you left behind a diamond bracelet, for reasons which I'm certain you will supply. The following evening, Miss Cartwright here was having her debutante ball, for which her father had hired four service companies - a florist, a caterer, a decorator, and a delivery service to bring it all in. You work for the delivery service, and your son is the apprentice to one of the decorators.

"Whether by coincidence or design, those specific companies - yours and his - were hired. I expect this same combination may be found at the sites of the other burglaries - but I digress. During some preliminary designing of the ball, you were both given ample opportunity to scout out the estate, during which you learned on the dense covering of ivy at the rear face of the house. While the preparations were being made for the ball that evening, young Adam indicated to one of the maids that he needed to use the lavatory. He was taken to the lavatory, from which he squeezed through the window - which, to judge by your frame, young Adam, would not be much of a chore - and climbed up to the window of Miss Cartwright's bedroom, using the ivy like a ladder. A few fibers from his clothing caught on the rough wood of the window-frame, and I should not be surprised if his had gotten a splinter or two during the process." I took note of the way the boy presently tucked his hands under the folds of his sleeves.

"As the wind during the rainstorm was coming from the west that night, the same direction the house faces, the boy did not get wet during his climb, nor would anyone expect him to have left any puddles on the sill or the in the room inside. Once he got to the sill, though, he was forced to wait, as Mrs Weaver was still inside the room, finishing laying out Miss Cartwright's clothing and jewelry for the ball. I cannot be certain if Miss Cartwright herself was still there, but the matter is immaterial, as she would have been leaving shortly to have her bath.

"It is difficult enough to notice through the sheer curtains a man-sized figure in the window during the daytime when one is not expecting one, let alone a small child in the evening. Thus Adam had an ideal opportunity to see where the key to the jewelry-box would be hidden after Mrs Weaver finished selecting the jewelry for the ball. Though the window had been closed to keep out the rain, I do not think it was locked, as the sash and the latch showed no signs of tampering. So, all the boy had to do was open the window and climb inside. He got the key from its hiding-place and opened the jewelry-box. He had on him the pocket-watch I mentioned earlier, which he left in exchange for the jewelry. Again, I trust you will supply the motive for this curious detail. He filled his pockets with the jewelry, left the watch, and climbed out the way he had come, climbing back down the ivy and back through the window to the lavatory. There he rejoined the maid, who took him back down to the main hall with an airtight alibi." By this point the two on the sofa could see that there was no use in any further denials.

It was a fair trade," said McKinley, "I always left something behind to pay for it, and I taught my boy to do the same. It isn't stealing if you leave something for it."

"A diamond bracelet for a gold watch?" Emily asked sharply, "A gold watch for a boxful of jewelry?"

"Would you have felt better if I hadn't left anything at all?" McKinley demanded, getting to his feet. The boy backed away nervously, fearful in anticipation.

"Sir! Madam! Settle down!" I entreated the both of them, "I said sit down,Mr. McKinley. Your misplaced sense of barter caused an innocent man to be accused of your crime, and I certainly hope your son learns a better trade than burglary in the future."

"Excuse me, sir," Leopold interrupted, "Once the theft was discovered we searched everyone and didn't find the jewelry."

"There is a very good reason for that," I replied, a shade annoyed at the interruption, "Once the theft was discovered, I expect it was difficult to maintain order in the main hall."

"Well, it was a bit chaotic - I couldn't really see for certain, since I was by the door, keeping track of who had come who was on the list, and then keeping the early-comers distinct from the late-comers."

"So nobody would have noticed a small boy stashing away the jewelry somewhere in the crowded main hall, so that he and his father could retrieve it later."

There was a long silence in the sitting room. I always enjoyed moments like this. Finally Emily spoke:

"Well, where is it, then?" she said, slightly spoiling the moment.

"Follow me, all of you. Leopold, I believe those are three officers of the law ringing the bell, do let them in and have them join us in the main hall."

Once my audience - Emily, the suspects, the police, and the butler - were gathered in the main hall, I strolled over to the dining-table and peered discreetly into the large plaster bowl which contained the centrepiece of orchids. The water had mostly evaporated and the flowers were starting to wilt, but otherwise the contents were intact.

To the policemen, I said: "You came just in time. I was about to show Miss Cartwright where the burglars hid her jewelry."

With a sudden flourish I snatched up the bowl of flowers and dropped it on the parquet floor at my feet, where it smashed into fragments. The flowers exploded away from the centre of impact and scattered on the floor, leaving Miss Cartwright's jewelry in plain view.

The report had also summoned the attention of one more player in the story, whose carriage I had heard pulling up shortly after that of the police, and who now urgently elbowed and jostled his way to the front. Mr Cartwright looked at my battered face, then at Emily's, and he turned an interesting shade of crimson as he came to a perfectly understandable but in this case incorrect conclusion. I offered him a tight-lipped smile and prepared to run.

[ceruleanchillin]

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy💀.

[lazysublimeengineer]

of glamorous appearances and intrigues

Summary: One shot sequel to Umbrella Man.

Everyone is here for the infamous Takemichi Hanagaki.

And enticing him to join in their own gang has proven to be difficult than they initially thought.

Characters: Senju K., Takemichi H. & I. Wakasa

Draken watched warily the surroundings around them. His face and stomach still hurt like fucking hell after he was punched like a sack of potatoes by that bastard Terano. Nevertheless, that was the least of his worries and his major concern now was the nervous, scrawny blond beside him as every gang leader present here wanted to swoop Takemichi right away into their gang once they managed to convince him to join their team.

Fuck, their crybaby hero was always a magnet for trouble and dangerous people.

He can’t even imagine the clusterfuck that they’ll have to face if Mikey and his gang arrives here all of a sudden.

The tension has gotten too thick now that one could sliced it with a bread knife once the gang leader of Brahman and the top 2 of the three deities, Kawaragi Senju, has arrived here with a dramatic entrance of landing a solid kick to the face of Terano after distracting him of his flying umbrella.

Served him right. That fucking bastard.

Draken glanced at Takemichi with a neutral expression on his face. The poor boy was getting more nervous and bewildered by the events unfolding in front of him. He needed to remind him to keep his shit together and refrain from making any sudden, impulsive decisions that he may predictably regret in the end. However, before he could even speak to him, a loud smacking sound into the ground had caught his attention and his eyes landed on Shion being plummeted by a severe punch of another newcomer that made Draken instantly cautious and alert.

“You’re a disgrace to Black Dragon! So, cut that shit already!” The man yelled ferociously to Shion who was sporting a chin strap style beard.

Draken could see that Takemichi flinched from the corner of his eyes.

“That’s Benkei-kun, from the First Gen.” Inui’s stated calmly and he stored it from the back of his mind.

Well, they’re in deep shit. And it doesn’t really help that the added unwanted guests who kept coming into this fray made his hackles rose.

Draken guessed that he had no choice but to fight their way out of this one. A wide grin crossed his features and readied his body into a fighting stance.

“Its been a while since this engine has gotten heated up! Let’s get this party started!”

Takemichi blinked a few times as he stared at Senju who already stood up to his full height while holding his umbrella calmly and stared at Terano with a blank expression on his face.

“Hold on. This little guy…Is Brahman’s boss?” Takemichi mumbled to himself, a slight look of disbelief and confusion marring his youthful features.

Takemichi knew that he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and underestimate the people around him. He already learned it the hard way from his past experiences. Nevertheless, it still took him by surprise sometimes on how could a small and young-looking person could pack a certain punch to his knuckles and deliver a roundhouse kick that would send them into a fitful sleep.

It made Takemichi wary yet intrigued by this innocent looking gang leader of the Brahman. He surmised that his deep-seated eyes and ingenuous features had somewhat landed him in being underestimated by the other gangsters who doesn’t know what he’s capable of.

Just like with Shion who was now questioning his presence and capabilities.

But before he could even mull about it for any longer, his attention was fully caught when someone just socked Shion directly into his face that made him fall down like a ragdoll into the ground. The newcomer made him flinched and grimaced in an instant as he looked at them with wide eyes.

“Senju! Brahman is not here today to brawl! Our objective is Hanagaki Takemichi!” The man berated Senju harshly.

“You’re so loud Benkei.” Senju replied dispassionately, unaffected by the man’s infuriating voice directed at him.

“Oh yeah! I’ve completely forgotten it too! They’re here to scout me…But why?” Takemichi tried to rattle every possibility inside his brain for a reason why most of them wanted to recruit him to their own gang suddenly.

“If Takemichi wishes to return to the world of delinquency…He belongs to us, Rokuhara Tandai!” Kakucho announced firmly after he landed a solid punch to Benkei and sent him flying into the corner.

“Kaku-chan!” Takemichi exclaimed in disbelief as his thoughts were cut off by his sudden action and bold announcement.

“Right Takemichi?” Kakucho looked at him square in the eye.

“Uh! Um…” Takemichi replied intelligently. His face was bewildered yet conflicted at the same time.

Does he really need to choose here? Right now? But how could he know if he made the right decision of accepting an offer from one of these gangs? Won’t he regret it in the end?

Takemichi could feel his mind was about to explode from the onslaught of rapid thoughts and information. Quick decision making was never his strong suit and he can probably make a goddamn mistake again from the pressure of this tense situation.

Senju was quiet and was still sporting an unflappable expression on his face despite the bold attack and claims of Kakucho. But his eyes narrowed imperceptibly and his grip tightened on his umbrella. A slight dislike wormed its way to his very being as he watched Kakucho tried to convinced Takemichi to join them by putting him on the spot. He could sensed the waves of conflicting emotions radiating off Takemichi as he tried and failed to give a proper response.

At times like this, they also had to draw out their trump card to neutralize the situation and gain Takemichi’s hand and favor. He wouldn’t let the other gangs swept Takemichi off of his feet and win him over. He’d have to play every trick on this game to outsmart them and win this blond who possessed those electrifying blue eyes which could be their weapon against them. Senju gave a subtle glance to Akashi to which the latter understood and signaled for their top executive to enter the scene.

“This gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it, Waka?” Akashi stated with a lazy grin on his face.

“No, it doesn’t.” A young man suddenly appeared behind Kakucho which made him surprised and fell backwards.

“When did you—?”

“If I cared enough, this guy wouldn’t be standing alive.” Wakasa cut him off with a bored look etched into his face.

‘These monsters come out one after another!’ Takemichi thought incredulously.

“Hey! Don’t just appear glamorously out of nowhere Waka!” Benkei yelled furiously.

“I’m just following Senju’s orders.” Wakasa replied nonchalantly.

A series of murmurs and mutterings then erupted from the other gangsters who were also bystanders from the corners.

Nevertheless, Wakasa tuned them out as his disinterested gaze landed on the infamous Hanagaki Takemichi.

So, this was the one huh?

The notorious morale weapon of the Touman gang in the past.

There was nothing exceptional to this man and he possessed a face that he could probably forget after 2 days of meeting him. Nevertheless, despite his scrawny appearance and the fearful stance in front of them, Takemichi’s eyes caught him the most. It was the shade of a perfect blue that reminds of peaceful skies in the Spring. It’s also expressive and open that he could read every emotion and obvious thought from them. He gleaned that Takemichi was an honest and sincere type of guy.

A refreshing breathe of fresh air into their world that’s full of ragtag delinquents and decrepit liars.

Wakasa casually made his way towards the scrawny blond and crossed his personal space, staring at him intently in the eye.

“Hanagaki Takemichi. We’re here to scout you. Join us, will you?” Wakasa stated in a detached voice as he continued to study the multitude of expressions that flit across his face from his statement alone.

Takemichi stepped backwards, taken aback by Wakasa’s sudden proximity around him and his intense stare. He swallowed thickly as he looked back at him hesitantly. The top executive was sporting a bland yet expectant look on his face as if waiting for his confirmation to join them instead. His long, ponytailed locks that have some streaks of highlights reminded him of Kazutora’s style and his dead yet intense stare reminded him of Sanzu.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He just oozes danger and trouble yet Takemichi can’t tear his eyes away from him as if he was briefly captivated by those intense eyes that was boring right into his soul.

An imperceptible sigh broke him out of his strange trance and he turned his attention to Senju who was looking at them with an indifferent expression on his face.

Senju pursed his lips as his line of sight caught Wakasa invading the personal space of the blond, a flare of annoyance started to creeped into his veins before he inwardly sighs and clamped it down.

Now was not the right time to pay attention to these odd yet irritating sensations that were engulfing his brain.

“Don’t scare him like that Waka. Our main goal is to scout Takemichi.” Senju stated bluntly.

Wakasa stepped away from him. But his gaze lingered on Takemichi for a few seconds before he trained his attention to Senju. “Right. I understand. Sorry if I’m coming out too strong for you Takemichi.”

Takemichi chuckled nervously before he stepped beside Inui, trying to calm down his stuttering heart.

What the hell was happening to him?

“Hanagaki. Those are the living legends. Waka and Benkei. They’re the best duo from the 1st Gen Black Dragon! And then, 1stGen Vice President, “The God of War” Akashi Takeomi. This is…The founding members of 1st Gen Black Dragon.” Inui informed him calmly.

Takemichi absorbed Inui’s words, digesting them inside his head. So, this was the generation led by Mikey’s brother, Shinichiro Sano. And now, these living legends were being led by the mysterious deity in front of them and was coined the “Unmatched Kawaragi Senju.”

With Senju leading these men in the front, it already gave him an idea of how immensely powerful this enigmatic man in front of him. And it made his curiosity peaked around—

“What the hell are you guys hyping each other for?”

Draken’s loud voice cut off his wandering thoughts and looked at him with a befuddled expression on his face.

“Should we continue where we left off?”

Before Takemichi can get a word in, Draken was was already challenging Terano again to a fist fight and cracking his knuckles, a vicious grin was present on his face.

“W-what is going on now?” Takemichi stammered as he could feel his soul leave out of his body.

Were they seriously going to fight now?!

Meanwhile, Wakasa and Senju watched Takemichi from afar, his anxious flailing made them amuse and fascinated.

They both know that getting this blond into their gang would make things more interesting and they’ll make sure to win him over to their team by any means necessary.

(A/N: I don’t own any of these characters from the franchise. Only this insane fic of mine. Apologies in advance if some of them are OOC especially the new ones as I tried to make them in character. Wakasa only appeared in the few panels of the manga but I tried to connect his characterization basing from his few dialogues and behavior to this fic of mine. This was inspired by the events of chapter 213 of the manga. Chapter 213 was funny and wild. The boys are fighting over Takemichi and wants a piece of him. And ofc. The glamorous appearance of the cool yet distant Wakasa has haunted my shipping ass and couldn’t resist adding him to Takemichi’s harem. So, what’s the appropriate ship name for this newborn ship? Wakamichi or Wakatake? Or you have something cooler ship name in mind? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section.)

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x09 Review

Spring Break was a bit of an odd ep but helped move some key plots forward. Let’s dig in!

Well people can no longer claim that Portwell is one sided. We finally got Gina’s pov and she starts off the ep uncertain whether the shift in their relationship means that EJ likes her but by the end of the ep she seems sure of herself and that EJ likes her back. I liked that she didn’t try to pretend that nothing had changed or that she hadn’t noticed potential signs that EJ might like her; it always sucks when tv characters act like idiots. 

Perhaps the most important reveal of this ep was that Gina has a much older estranged brother who left her and her mom many years ago. That certainly makes her backstory more tragic and is definite set up for her brother to eventually return.

The writers continue to give Portwell great tropes, capping this ep off with an airport rom-com trope that also calls back to EJ getting Gina the place ticket so she could come back in S1. Not only did Gina keep EJ’s Duke sweatshirt but she altered it to fit her better which is both sweet and bold in the assumption that it was hers to keep. Gina got her sign when not only did EJ show up to drive Gina home and take her luggage but he brought her the granola bar that she had wanted but forgot to pack. I wonder if her posting on her story that she was ubering home after her flight was cancelled was intended to see if EJ would show up since the camera focused on her posting it. Also sweet that she’s taken to calling EJ, ‘ Eej’. 

EJ’s opening was good, shows a lot of his character growth from the selfish guy he was in S1 and how he’s learned to value other people which of course leads into his feelings for Gina. We got another great use of the camera as character tonight when Gina was laughing after her facetime call with EJ until she realized that the camera was on her. 

Jack was a lot of fun. Though he didn’t really change Gina’s mind over anything like the ep description said he would.  Seemed like Gina was largely over Ricky and wondering about EJ at the beginning and the end solidified her feelings for EJ but Jack didn’t really play a role in that, it’s not like he encouraged Gina to reach out to EJ or anything. There’s a vague sense in which Jack being nomadic linked him to Ricky’s unreliability in Gina’s eyes with her craving stability but that’s a stretch. Jack mentioned that the second most dangerous part of a plane ride is when the plane takes off, a hint to the blossoming Portwell relationship where in order to take off one or both of them has to risk a confession even though they could be turned down.

This ep might seem a bit weird in hindsight. The zoom parts probably won’t age well and five years from now people might be wondering why they had Gina hang out with a manic pixie dream boy of sorts for an ep.

The path is clear for canon Portwell in the finale with EJ being Gina’s second chance at romance and her first kiss since they clearly telegraphed it out of nowhere. I’ve been impressed with the great work the writers have been doing since 2x05 to build up Portwell as a ship but also work on Gina and EJ as individual characters; they’ve been the highlight of the season so far. 

There was discourse this past week over how well or poorly Portwell has been set up. Objectively very few ships on this show get much in the way of set up or consistent writing. Redlyn and Kowie had barely any set up before getting together. Seblos had none (though in fairness that was due to Disney restrictions) and Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen didn’t have much set up either. Rini did get lots of development in S1 but that’s because they had already dated and were the main ship of the show. The show’s not really about slow burns, if Jenzzara canons in the finale they’ll count and if Rina ever got together they’d also count but neither of those ships have gotten consistent development with Mazzara not being in several eps and Gina and Ricky not even interacting for the past 3 eps. 

Is Portwell a slowburn? In a sense since they did feature quite a bit in each other’s S1 plot lines and even had a fake dating plot but it is true that they were platonic and not that close in S1 so it’s a wash. There was clear set up for romantic Portwell in 1x10 with team wonderstudies and Gina staring at EJ (which interestingly enough looked more like set up for Gina to pine over EJ). I think the main problem is that even though we saw Gina and EJ hanging out in the background we didn’t get any scenes of substance between them until 2x05. It was a mistake and there should have been some scene, like EJ and Gina commiserating in 2x03 over being single on Valentine’s Day or something like that. Hell there was even that still from 2x01 of EJ and Gina looking at each other at the piano while they were in the frame between Ricky and Nini singing and having a moment  which would have been good foreshadowing but that shot wasn’t in the ep.

Whether Tim just really wanted Portwell to be a surprise in 2x05 as a mid-season twist to throw the audience off of what looked like a Rini/Rina triangle or he was unsure as to whether he wanted to go with Portwell or if he just planned it out poorly we may never know. Regardless they’ve had great writing for 4 eps in a row now which puts them slightly ahead of the 3 eps in a row of development Rina got in S1. I’m sure if someone added up their screen time they’d find that Portwell has more screen time this season than Kowie and more screen time than Redlyn or Seblos  got in S1. 

Caswell cousins was fun and Ashlyn did in fact paint EJ’s nails. 

Set up for Seblos drama next week, it’s refreshing to see Seb being jealous over Carlos flirting with other boys that’s definitely not something you see on Disney shows.

Ricky got some healing done with his mom. Enough to cover their issues? No but this is probably the best this show is capable of. There was a brief mention of therapy sandwiched between other options which sounds more like checking off a box then setting up Ricky actually going to therapy. I noticed Lynne was smiling at odd times like when she told Ricky she knew about his breakup with Nini; whether that was poor directing or acting I don’t know. Who knows if we’ll see Lynne again. As an aside still so wild that Tim named Lynne who’s been a kinda shitty mom after his own mom who he seems to be fairly close with.

Really liked You ain’t seen nothin as a song but not a fan of the Tiktok style vid. I’ll level with you wildcats, I’m too old to really get Tiktok, it just seems like a crappy version of Vine to me. Let you go was good, seemed better fitted for Joshua Bassett’s voice than some of his previous songs. A big sign that they’re not circling back to Rini for a long time for sure. Though on that note we got a bit of a hint that Ricky was Nini’s muse which may one day come back as a way to help bring them back together. 

Looking Ahead:

If there’s only 3 weeks left till the Menkies, with only 2 weeks left for rehearsal due to spring break, it’s hard to see East High winning unless North High is disqualified or has to withdraw. 

Lily is in a promo photo so she’s likely the unexpected facetime Ricky gets which is what I had theorized. Also makes it much more likely that she’s the party crasher Ricky re-evaluates in the finale though what Tim actually wants to do with those two I do not know.

There’s little point in bringing back the Valentine’s chocolate since there’s no real stakes. Rini are already broken up, Gina hasn’t spoken to Ricky since 2x06, and it’s not like Nini and Gina were ever close so even if they stopped talking to each other it wouldn’t really affect the show in any way. 

Seems pretty likely that Second Chances refers to Gina realizing that her first try with Ricky failed but her second chance with EJ won’t and that leads to her sharing her truth and cue the Portwell confession and kiss, perhaps with an assist on EJ’s end from Mazzara. We’ve gone well past the point where Portwell can be brushed off as just a plot device to help Rina but Tim is playing with fire by getting the audience so on board with Portwell if he’s once again going to have EJ lose a girl he likes to Ricky in S3.

Gina certainly needs to talk with Ricky and I do think that happens in ep 11 or 12 and leaves them on better terms. As I mentioned last week, if Tim was smart he’d slam the door on Rina if he’s going with canon Portwell or vice versa. If he wants Rina to be a slow burn he’s really botched the writing this season, it’s been too one sided and too angsty to sustain any kind of momentum or audience interest. They haven’t even interacted for 3 eps now and not only has it not affected the show but it’s inarguably made Gina’s story line much better.  Again I don’t think he’s smart enough to not try and do Portwell and then later Rina but he’s accidentally set up the Rina story line to quite easily slam the door permanently on them by having their conversation be closure for Gina who’s moved on and an apology from Ricky who never liked her back as much as Gina liked him.

Not looking forward to seeing Nini basically live out Olivia Rodrigo’s life in future seasons

Curious to see Carlos’ apology song to Seb. Ricky helping him with it is a great way to help start redeeming Ricky’s character in the audiences eye’s. According to Matt there is a bit of a Ricky/EJ rivalry this season and if it’s really happening the sleepover would be a good place to do it though I hope it’s not about Gina. 

Until next week wildcats.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 2- Lay Me in the Sun

Summary: You’ve spent the past handful of years with your Witcher throughout your travels around the Continent. After a hunt, you’re all he wants.

Warnings: smut, fluff, Geralt being a hottie

-Part of my OMAM series that I’m working on, this is right before the happenings of the Witcher season 1, which is in the next chapter

Masterlist

You are currently sprawled out upon the vibrantly green summer grass, enjoying the softness of your living bed as a warm breeze brushes past your skin. You had hacked at a tree with your sword for about an hour and a half to let off some steam until you got too bored and sweaty. You then went for a refreshing dip in the nearby river before lounging in the afternoon sun where you happen to be right now.

Geralt has been off all day on the hunt for some subspecies of troll while you've been chilling with Roach by the river. He didn't seem keen on having you come with him this time, so instead you let him have his "me time", odd way to call hunting and hacking off a trolls head "me time" but it's Geralt so you didn't press any further. He just likes doing his thing by himself at times and considering how nice a day it is, let him.

You've been his travel companion for a good handful of years now, which delightfully has resulted in that of a strong romantic relationship with your fearsome Witcher. He keeps himself as a big scary badass with a look that could send you running for the hills, according to all the people of the continent that you've both met. But to you he's the most gentle, funny, loyal, and protective lover you've ever had, quit the opposite of what the villagers think of him.

He listens to you and cares so much about if your happy around him, which you always tell him yes. He needlessly worries that he's too much or too little for you, that maybe he doesn't show how much he truly loves you often enough. But you have grown to understand that he speaks his love language through his actions and how he looks at you, as you've found this better then any amount of words on a man's tongue could possess. And it's just how Geralt shows his affection towards you, as he's never been a mushy kinda guy who will flatter you with his abundance of compliments. Which you never have minded, in fact it would send you howling with laughter at the thought of Geralt singing you a song about your beauty compared to that of a flower. Now that would be quit the scenario.

Laying your head upon the pads of your hands, you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of the tall grass as you enjoy the sounds of rushing water over the river rocks, that is, until a foul stench reaches your nostrils. Your face contorts into an unpleasant grimace at the nasty scent of something recently deceased coming your way. Then another more familiar smell reaches your nose and you know exactly who it is. If his disgusting smell didn't already confirm his identity it would be his heavy footfalls onto the soft earth, disrupting your peaceful afternoon snooze that you get so rarely.

Suddenly the footsteps get louder until they suddenly stop near your boot covered feet, as a shadow blocks the sun from reaching your face. You slowly open your eyes to behold the sight of your Witcher who is very visibly covered in something that is definitely not guts. But most certainly came from said guts of some unlucky creature.

"What threw up on you this time?" You ask, as he's about to give you a probable vividly disturbing answer, you hold your hand up to shush him.

"You know what, never mind."

He laughs at that as he slings something off the side of his shoulder, without warning the grotesque decapitated head of a rock troll slumps to the grass with a thud. The nasty fucker staring blankly into your ruby colored eyes while it's pale tongue slides out of its mouth, black inky bubbles of blood and saliva seeping out from its slacked jaw. You hiss at it before briskly gliding up into a standing position where you then take a few steps back.

"What the fuck Geralt! I was having a very nice and relaxing moment before you dropped that nice little present way too close for comfort." You sass at him while you fold your arms over your chest, he simply smiles, amused that he's annoyed you.

"You don't like my gift?" He muses with a cocky smirk upon his dirty face.

"Maybe if I was an orc, you got the wrong species, love. Uh, but hey...good work on not getting eaten alive."

"Whatever it takes to come back to you." He quips, you rolling your eyes at his adorable sarcasm.

"Alright troll slayer, I think you should take a dip in the river. I mean what is even on you it looks like brown chunks of....oh god is that cow?" You grimace in disgust once again, every so slightly leaning into him to take a better look at what's actually coating his leather armor.

"I truly have no idea. And I will take your kind suggestion lest we have wolves hunting us in the wee hours of the morning, like little angry ghosts." He replies with a nod before walking past you and stripping himself of his black leather armor.

He drops it in the grass as he quickly pulls his dark under shirt over his head where he promptly abandons it by a nearby rock. You don't even realize how hard core you're staring at him right now while you subconsciously bite your lower lip as your gaze travels from his bare shoulders to his chiseled torso. He's got an abundance of scars in various parts of his body and his muscles are as hard as stone. This is nothing you haven't seen before but still, Geralt knows how to put on a show, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

He slides his boots off and as he's casually unbuttoning his trousers does he finally look up to catch your lustful gaze. He smirks as you stare on boldly at his half naked self, a blissfully dumb smile upon your face.

"I could think of a couple ways we could spend the evening and right now my love you are just...a lot." Geralt keeps eye contact with you as he continues to unbutton his pants, he slides them down his god-like body until he's finally standing in the summer evening as naked as the day he was born.

He gives you a charming smile before turning and walking into the river to clean himself off of all the troll innards. He goes beneath the water before resurfacing once again, in the meantime you sit yourself onto the river bank and smile to yourself at the delicious sight of your glistening Witcher while he washes himself clean of all puke, blood, sweat, and whatever else is coating his skin. Suddenly all goes quiet and you can't see him above the water anymore, but you can see how his form is on a path for your legs that are dangling in the river. Quickly you pull your legs from the rushing stream just as Geralt resurfaces directly in front of you.

"You were not about to drag my ass into the depths, these are my only dry clothes." You halfheartedly whine, a small chuckle escaping you as Geralt rests his muscled arms upon the riverbank.

"Then take them off." He gives you an inviting look as you raise an eyebrow at his boldness.

He just smiles adoringly at you from the riverside, silently begging you to shed your clothing to come join his bum in the water. With a shake of your head, you stand up and tug off both of your boots, throwing them near Geralt's armor. Then you peel off your loose grey top that was conveniently all that was covering your top half from the eyes of the world. You look down at Geralt who's golden eyes have not left your body once, a giant blissful smirk playing at the corner of his soft lips as you give him a show.

You throw him a wink before sensually unlacing your pants, those things abruptly falling to the grass in a black puddle at your feet. You stand naked above him on the river bank like a water nymph in all her alluringly bewitching beauty. Playfully teasing him as you dramatically stretch in the warm sunlight, he watches as your arms reach for the clouds, your breasts lifting with the movement. You look absolutely radiant, a goddess come to earth that could make the very stars jealous with your dazzling features.

Your eyes lock with his and without warning you launch yourself over Geralt's snowy head, intent on making a large splash in the process, just to tease him. When you resurface he's rubbing the water from his eyes, you casually swim over to him, a cheeky grin adorning your wet face. Once he's gotten the water out of his eyes he lowers himself into the river until all you can see is his shoulders and his handsome face.

"All clean now?" You ask, tilting your head down to blow some river bubbles.

"Remarkably." Quips your Witcher with a low chuckle.

"Good...now you can take me on the grass of the riverbank, right in front of Roach." You state bluntly, Geralt's golden eyes widening in pleasant surprise as your face suddenly breaks out into a fangy grin.

"She's seen too much already." He jests, nodding in her general direction as she obliviously nibbles away at the grass.

"She's seen worse." You add.

"Fair point." Replies Geralt with a casual shrug.

You lower your face into the water, bringing it back up just as quickly before you spit a line of cold water right onto Geralt's cheek. He shuts his eyes as he takes your assault like a champ, letting you have your fun for the time being cause in a couple minutes he'll have you screaming his name into the afternoon breeze. Once all the water has left your mouth do you finally stand up and glide over to your patient lover. He watches you the whole time, keeping his sights onto your beaming face, although he's not unnoticing of how the water only conceals your bellybutton and your delightful treasure below.

"Hopefully no one stops by for a drink." You state with a small laugh as you stand in front of him.

He looks down at you with a soft smile gracing his kissable lips, you raise your hand up and let it trail down the side of his arm in a casually intimate gesture. He watches in content silence as you touch the skin of his scarred forearm, all the way down until you reach his hand where you then open your palm out for him to take. He does so without question, knowing exactly what your intended plans are for the both of you next. With a seductive bite of your lip, do you lead Geralt to the side of the river bank were your little camp is set up.

You let go of his hand and lift yourself up onto the soft grass where you stood not even five minutes ago. As you're seated, you turn around to face Geralt who's doing the same. You quickly bite the inside of your cheek when your eyes are known to the delicious sight of is hardened member glistening in the beams of sunlight through the nearby trees. He falls to his knees as he crawls over to you in the grass. When he reaches your closed bent legs he gives you a pleading look. Asking for your permission to continue, you smirk at him and slowly part your legs to his great delight.

You lean back on your elbows as his large form covers you from the sun, his hands land on either side of your face as his member grazes against your inner thigh. He's instantly attacking your lips in a heated embrace, pulling a moan from your lips as he takes this opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues dancing in the darkness, he carefully leans himself onto one forearm as his other hand travels down the side of your body where he then parts your legs further apart for better access.

You can feel as he guides his cock to your slick entrance likes he's done this a hundred times before. Once he's found his mark does he then slowly push into you, you let out a breathless gasp at the uncomfortable sensation sliding into your wetness. He lifts his face a couple inches from yours to make sure you're doing okay and that he isn't hurting you too much. You look into his concerned eyes as you try to hide your slight discomfort, you've done this so many times before, it's just Geralt can be a lot to handle and you need a second.

Leaning up to give him a chaste kiss you find his eyes once again as a blissful smile appears onto your stunning face. Confirming that you've adjusted accordingly and it's time to pick up the pace. He ever so carefully does he thrust into you once again, starting off slow so you can prepare yourself for when he goes faster. Your hands claw at his muscular back as his head falls to your shoulder.

"I'm not a fragile maiden, fuck me Geralt...I can take it." You practically growl in his ear, sending chills down his spine as a cocky smile appears onto his handsome face.

"You're ready now?" He teases as he pecks you on the cheek, you turn to glare at him.

"Shut up, let's make a goddamn dent in the side of this bank." You rasp out as he begins to pick up the pace, heeding to your confident command.

He pounds in and out of you in a beautifully pleasurable rhythm that's sending you into a flurry of whimpers and moans at the sensational contact of his cock inside you. Your body feels electric with each new thrust that he sends deep into your womanhood, as he bottoms out every time. A dazed smile finds its way onto your parted lips at the sounds of Geralt's own grunts and staggered breaths.

He pushes you into the grass as he lays atop your shimmering body, his hips doing a fantastic job at keeping your legs apart as he thrusts into you over and over again. You're to out of to even think of wrapping your legs around his body, all that you're able to manage is a tight grasp onto his right arm as your other hand is clawing at the ground for some support.

The sweet sounds of skin on skin contact dissipates throughout the evening breeze. All of it lost to the roar of the river and yours and Geralt's moaning. Your as wet as the water below you as he slides in and out of you with ease. Sending waves of pleasure into your hot core, it's gradually building up with every new thrust he's throwing at you. When you turn your head to the side to get a better look at him, you can tell how concentrated his face is as more grunts subconsciously escape from his lips, he's on his way to paradise.

The building of your own pleasure rises every time he hits your sweet spot until you can't take it anymore and all at once your orgasm hits you like an arrow in the chest. Sending euphoric waves of pure bliss pulsating throughout your entire being as your walls close in around his hardness.

"Ah fuck Geralt!" You scream in ecstasy as another moan slips from your throat, "Geralt! Uh...ahhh oh my fuuuck!"

He relentlessly continues to pound into you as he chases his own high in the midst of you cuming. It's sending more shock waves into your sensitive clit with lack of a break. But you don't have time to care as another orgasm begins to build inside of you once more with every full thrust of his manhood into your dripping entrance. Due to him being a Witcher and all, heavily contributes to his high stamina, but luckily for him you're not entirely human yourself and can keep up with his lack of exhaustion.

More whimpers fall from your lips as he kisses the side of your sweaty cheek in a small act of appreciation for how well you're doing. He understands he's big and how he doesn't get tired easily, so he's rather blessedly grateful for you as a partner who can take him so well. Suddenly he lets out a string of curses mixed in with your name here and there as he releases his load into your aching womanhood. You cuming right after him for the second time today as you let out a pleasurable scream.

"Ohhh fuck Geralt...ohhh fuuuckk."

He gives you a couple more ending thrusts for good measure before he pulls himself out of you and lays at your side in a sweaty heap of heavily breathing Witcher. You can feel as his cum drips out of you and into the grass that's lightly caressing your legs. You're breathing heavily and your inner thighs feel sore as you lay here ever grateful for the cool wind that fans your swollen entrance and sweaty body.

You look up to the blue sky and watch as great puffy clouds roll by, a single falcon gliding on the current, completely oblivious to the smell of sex lingering in the air near you two. You turn your attention to Geralt who's watching the bird of prey fly high into the clouds.

"You think anyone heard us?" You furrow your brows in wonder.

"Some squirrels, probably a bird or two." Replies Geralt nonchalantly as he continues to breath heavily.

"Well I'm glad nothing bothered us, I would have gouged their eyes out if a single person disturbed us." You mutter, a flash of fire in your scarlet eyes.

"Oh Y/N, my ever gentle flower." Muses Geralt with a content sigh as he props himself up onto his elbow to have a better view of you. Smiling at him you go to do the same.

"I can be gentle." You laugh out half defensively, knowing full well that is not entirely true.

"Half the scratch marks on my back are your doing my dear." Replies Geralt with a kind smile as you playfully roll your eyes at him.

"Well, that's not completely my fault." You sass back as you slide yourself closer to him. The two of you now inches apart in the soft grass, he studies your face for a moment, really taking you all in.

"What's on your mind." You ask while playing with the ends of his silver hair. His eyebrows furrow for a second before he relaxes again, deciding to lay both you and himself back down on the riverside grass. He pulls you in close, enough that your top half can now lay comfortably upon his muscular chest and shoulder. You snake an arm over his torso as your head rests nicely upon his strong shoulder blade, your faces so close. His gaze keeps to the clouds above as yours watches him search for an answer.

"I think I may need new clothes." He finally confesses after a short while, you lightly chuckle at his blunt realization.

"What? No. I love the smell of death on you. It's very sexy." You add, sarcasm clear in your voice as you subconsciously trace the scared flesh of his torso.

"Thanks." He mumbles as his free hand finds your arm that's currently draped over his stomach, he trails his fingers upon your skin before resting his hand on your forearm, "The next village over, I'm trading that troll's head for enough coin to get us close to Blaviken...then we'll see what monster there might bring us some better gold."

"I've never been, but I know of a wizard who lives there in some fancy tower all alone, don't know his name or anything. Who knows what kinda shit he gets up to these days, I can't imagine it's anything pleasant or humane." You mutter into the breeze, you'd made sure to keep your distance from any mages or wizards for as long as you could after something caused you to finally become fed up with them.

You don't adheredly have any standing beef with any of them in particular, in fact you had been very close with one, but that was such a long time ago. It almost feels like it could have been a past life. It's just you've lived long enough to know that people like such are usually superstitious bastards who'll believe any prophecy that destiny may conjure up for them.

They do as they please and their use of magic is not always used with good intentions. Although one may say due to your father being a sorcerer and all, would make you part mage, but on the contrary. As far as your abilities go in the tricky area of sorcery and it's mysterious being with how it can be inherited from parent to child. Your capabilities run a specific line of nothing but whatever part vampire runs through your veins. Nothing more, nothing less. Unlike with mages in their give and take, you can simply bend your lighting to your will whenever you call it into your vessel via the dark gift.

That being said, you've seen the atrocities that mages and wizards alike can commit when given the opportunity, so for that, you don't fuck around with them, nor use your deadly gift very often. Figuring you're already dangerous enough as it is, people never seeming to want to keep you around for too long. Perhaps that's why you and Geralt are perfect for each other, if the world won't have you, at least you have one another's company.

"I know of your dislikes for wizards, but we...well I, need new clothes. And there's surely some coin to be given in that place." Whispers Geralt as he holds you close, you let out an annoyed sigh, earning a small laugh from the man beneath you.

"Dammit you know I can't say no to another adventure, wizard or not, I wanna see what Blaviken has to offer us."

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​(@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[august-atwood]

First Not-Date | Frauggie

Featuring: August & Frankie @frankieking​ Location: The Black Keys Time: The night before the Thomeste wedding Mentions: Raj @raj-veerapen​ ​Notes: Raj was working at the same time as August, so I imagine he witnessed everything that happened before August took their break.

--FRANKIE-- What does one wear to meet someone they've already made a date with for the first time? It's the age of technology. Come on, Frankie, pull yourself together. In their 20-something some odd years, they haven't fully discovered the ability to do this. This being meeting someone they're kind of interested in but too chicken shit to really put themselves out there. They blame their grandmother. Obviously, raising Frankie wasn't and couldn't have been easy. Between their constant desire to learn and need for stimulation and the troubles they had caused in their younger years, grandma King had her hands full with young Frankie. But oh how they miss her now. After going through several outfits, they settled on a Blink 182 cropped top and black biker shorts with doc Martens on their feet.  There was no time for updos or anything else. The curls would have to do and hopefully, the lighting at the bar would be kind to them. Once they had arrived, Frankie immediately approached the bartop and leaned in to kiss Raj on the cheek. "Hi. I'm here. Well, obviously I'm here. Why would I say that? Do I look okay? I brought a ring light with me. Don't ask. Do you even know what a ring light is? Oh!" Raj began backing away and Frankie noticed August standing behind him. "You heard all of that, didn't you?"

--AUGUST-- August was both excited and a bit nervous about going to the wedding with Frankie. It would kind of be their first date. They didn't know anyone who went to a wedding on a first date. Of course they told Raj all about their conversation with Frankie and how it ended up with them agreeing to go to the wedding together. August just left out all the bits about Mission Parent Trap. They didn't even notice when Frankie came into the bar because they were helping a customer, but when they heard Frankie talking, August knew who it was. They had seen Ship-Wrecked, and they had seen a few episodes of Frankie's entertainment show. Between serving people, they glanced over and heard what Frankie said about a ring light. August chuckled a little and gave Frankie a wave. "I heard the last half of it," they grinned. Frankie was even cuter in person, which August didn't think was possible. "Hi. In-person."

--FRANKIE-- Frankie watched Raj disappear into the wild from the corner of their eye. It was so dad-like it was actually comical. A chuckle escaped their lips and they shook their head as if telling him from a distance they'd get him somehow. And well, they were going to go through with that promise at the wedding. Setting their entire focus and gaze on August, they slipped onto a stool and grinned. There was something so refreshing about August. They were outgoing and bold which were two things Frankie struggled with. One would think that being on E! every evening would help with that but Frankie was one of those extroverted introverts. That's how most people described them. "Ah, so the ring light part? I got you one. To show off your face. People will love it..." Their words trailed off for a bit, finding themselves caught up in the said nice face. "Hello. Live and in color! How's your night going?"

--AUGUST-- "Oh! The ring light is for me. It's for the TikTok stuff, right?" August asked. They got so caught up in flirting with Frankie that they forgot they were going to help with the account stuff. As soon as Frankie sat down, August filled up a glass with ice water and handed it over. "It's better now," they said, giving a flirty smile. August knew Frankie was sober and would never suggest a cocktail, however August had a strong mocktail game. "Do you want something fancy to drink? No alcohol in it," they promised. "Just tell me what kinds of flavors you like, and I'll make something up."

--FRANKIE-- "Yeah! Get you those followers and that creator fund flowing." Frankie had become invested in wanting to help August get to their goals but it also helped how great they were. "Oh God, there they go again." Frankie chuckled, bringing the glass to their lips to hide the obvious grin on their face. It was nice of them to remember the sobriety. Frankie appreciated that so much that they found themselves staring again. "Um..." Tucking a curl behind their ear, Frankie cleared their throat, setting the glass down. "Thank you. I'd love something fancy. Pineapple and coconut? Or Mango? Something Tropical. I can pretend we're on the island after all."

--AUGUST-- August laughed a little bit, but they were glad for the help. Any help would be good and would get them one step closer toward their goal of being a full-time traveler and blogger. "You had to know that was coming," they grinned and watched the look on Frankie's face. The way they got bashful was even cuter than how August imagined it. "You're welcome. Tropical flavors are the best. I can absolutely whip something up for you. Something blended? It's warm out." August grabbed the blender along with some pineapple juice, coconut cream, and ice. They blended it all together for a virgin piña colada. And in the glass, August swirled a bit of strawberry puree before pouring the piña colada in. Then they garnished it with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry. "Here we go. A virgin Lava Flow. If you hate it, I'll make you something else."

--FRANKIE-- "I did and yet there go my cheeks! Right on time." Frankie kept their glass of water near, choosing to sit on their knees to lean in slightly and get a good look at August at work. Something about the whole scenario was very attractive to them and it was probably obvious considering they're gaze never tore away from August. "Oo yes blended sounds amazing." When the drink had been prepared and brought to them, Frankie moved to sit back down on their bottom. "How can I hate the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?!" They chuckled and then gathered some of the cocktail on to the straw before bringing it to their lips for a taste. "Oh my gosh..." Frankie then took one nice, long sip. "So good!! Thank you!! I think I'll have to come in every time you're working."

--AUGUST-- They looked at Frankie's cheeks and grinned. August just wanted to reach out and feel how warm they were when they blushed. "You're so fucking cute," they grinned. It was hard to focus with Frankie watching them, but August was determined to show off a little bit and make sure there was a fancy and delicious drink to put in front of Frankie. While it wasn't a date, they could still flirt. "It's nothing. Just a drink I learned how to make in Hawaii. I'm really glad you like it, though." August grinned widely when Frankie said they might have to come in every time they worked. "I wouldn't be opposed to that. Though you're probably busy with your own work."

--FRANKIE-- Truly, Frankie can't remember the last time they felt so flustered or rather, anyone flustered them.  It was like they had met their match in August which, in this case, wasn't a bad thing. Biting their bottom lip at the compliment, they found themselves completely smitten with the bartender. "It is waayyyy better hearing you say it." It was almost too easy, flirting with August and talking to them as if they had been doing this forever. "And this is so impressive! But yeah, you made me forget all about work." Frankie chuckled before taking another sip. "I'll  come by when I wrap up." The determination in their voice was evident. Frankie just wanted to see them again. "You know, help you with your blog, bother Raj, state at your cute butt. The usual. And maybe you can take me out for a burger. As gratitude for the blog, of course. No other hidden reason."

--AUGUST-- It was August's turn to blush. They smiled at Frankie and tried to play it off cool, but they were really glad their flirting was successful. It would be impossible not to like Frankie. It wasn't just that they were beautiful, but they were cool, funny, and witty. "Did I? Well, go me," they chuckled. "You can come by anytime. I'll just make sure you know my schedule." August thought Frankie's determination was so cute. They were just as determined to see the other again. "You think my butt is cute, eh? But yeah, no other reason than helping me with my blog." August felt like their smile would never go away in Frankie's presence. "A burger with no ulterior motive. With burgers, we also have to get milkshakes, right?"

--FRANKIE-- Frankie continued enjoying their drink, sipping from the tiny cocktail straw, brown eyes on August as they spoke. "Oh, Raj is going to kill me for being here so often." They giggled softly before taking a break from the beverage. "What? Its a cute butt!! And yea super important. That blog of yours." Frankie smirked, enjoying August's company. Raj was so right. They'd be sure to sing his praises later. "A no ulterior motive burger. Yes with milkshakes and fries. Helps with the business chatter...”

--AUGUST-- “Will he?” August wondered, grinning a bit. “Maybe his plan is working too well,” they chuckled. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” August said and shook their hips a bit. “Mhm. Totally. The blog is super important. As is TikTok.” They were just happy for any excuse to see Frankie. Raj was totally right about them. Frankie was adorable and perfect for them. “That sounds like a great Business Meeting date.”

--FRANKIE-- "I mean, what if I distract you?" Frankie couldn't help but laugh at August moving their hips. "Oh my God. Has anyone ever told you that you're a ham?" Frankie then rested their cheeks on their hands, propping their self up by their elbows. It was like being back in high school again. August was too cute for words and quick with the comebacks. It was nice talking to someone who could easily keep up with them. "And you have to walk me home. Its part of the business transaction protocol..."

--AUGUST-- “I can still do my job and talk to customers, even though I just want to talk to you all night,” August smiled. “Every day of my life,” they laughed and watched Frankie lean their face on their hands. “Is it too much to tell you again how fucking cute you are?” They asked and shook their head. Frankie was someone new, but the way they got along felt like they knew each other forever. It was so refreshing. “I assume holding hands is standard business transaction protocol as well?”

--FRANKIE-- "Oh, gosh. You're killing me." Frankie's voice was just above a whisper, unable to contain themselves much longer. "Well, it's true. You should model with that ham-esque personality of yours." Frankie bowed their head slightly and giggled, their face completely on fire. "It is. It is too much but I'll take it because you're really charming and you remember things like not to give me alcohol..." Frankie's gaze then flickered up to meet August's "Oh absolutely. You have to make sure your business partner is safe. Maybe even do one of those moves where you snake your arm around my waist. To make sure I don't fall into a puddle or something."

--AUGUST-- August wasn’t trying to kill Frankie. Maybe just make them swoon a little bit. “Oh, I don’t think I could ever do that,” they chuckled. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me charming before, but I’ll take it! And of course I remembered. It’s kind of an important thing.” The last thing August wanted to do was ruin anyone’s sobriety. You don’t have to drink to have a good time. they thought. Ironic coming from someone who makes money on the drunkenness of strangers.  “What kind of business partner would I be if I let you fall into a puddle? A shitty one, for sure.”

--FRANKIE-- Frankie couldn't help the wide grin pulling at the corner of their lips. "I feel like you'd be better than you think. Maybe you can model for me!" And once again the heat rose against their cheeks. "Oh God, the way that must have sounded..." Frankie chuckled, shaking their head some. "And you're definitely charming so I'll tell you a few times to remind you." Frankie was so smitten at this point, hearing August talk about the importance of sobriety. "You wouldn't believe how many people our age don't get it. They think it's okay to "cheat" a little or whatever. They don't understand." They nodded, smile growing even more. "I want to know more about you. Like, okay...if you could be anywhere right now, where would that be? And what are some of your pet peeves?" They took another sip. "And when you walk me home, you can hang out a bit longer? To discuss more business."

--AUGUST-- “I would, but I don’t think behind this bar is a great runway. I don’t think it sounded that weird,” August laughed. They loved Frankie’s smile so much. It was big and genuine, and they wanted to see it on them all the time. “Thank you,” they grinned some more. August shook their head at the idea of ‘cheating’ on sobriety. “It’s an all-in kind of thing. They don’t get that cheating a little doesn’t happen. I promise that every time you come here to see me, well and Raj, I will make you fancy mocktails.” August smiled at the rapid questions about themself. “More about me? Okay, if I could be anywhere right now, it would be New Zealand. I just really want to go there, but the flight is out of my budget right now. Um, pet peeves are talking with a mouthful of food and blowing noses at the table,��� they scrunched their nose. “Yes, I think that would be nice to stay a bit longer. Discuss the private stuff,” August smiled. They loved that they were already planning a second date, even though they technically didn’t have a first one yet.

--FRANKIE-- "Okay, we'll save that for our business date, then."  Frankie chuckled, glad that they were able to make August laugh. It was such a nice feeling knowing their company was enjoying having them there. The most interesting thing about all of this is how not once has Frankie overthought anything. There hasn't been an instance of doubt or cynicism. From the very first message, August had already shown just how genuine they were. Frankie couldn't help but beam at the thought of  August taking the time to tend to them and make them a mocktail every time Frankie decided to drop in.  "I love that. I'll cherish every single one!" Listening to August's answers, Frankie's smile never faltered. "Oh! New Zealand is top of my list because of Lord of the Rings! It looks gorgeous. I have a feeling you'll be able to cross that off your list in no time." The pet peeves made Frankie stick their tongue out and cringe. "Gross. No, thanks. Definitely not a favorite of mine either." Even the trivial questions weren't awkward. "Perfect. I think we'll be perfect business partners, then." Frankie had been leaning in the entire time, taking in their new friend and everything they had to say that they hadn't noticed someone trying to grab August's attention. "I think you have a customer. Go, go, I'm not going anywhere.”

--AUGUST-- "Sounds like the perfect time to show off," August chuckled. They didn't know if it was the fact that this wasn't technically a date or if it was just Frankie being Frankie that made this first meeting wonderful and not awkward. They were usually awful at first meetings, but Frankie seemed to be having a good time. "I'll have to come up with some creative ones so you don't get bored," they grinned. "Yes! That's exactly why I want to go to New Zealand. I mean, there are other reasons to go to the amazing country, but Lord of the Rings is among them. And I'll check out Australia, too when I'm in that part of the world," they said. August was happy they had similar pet peeves. It was always nice to have that stuff in common. "I think so, too." August opened their mouth to say something else when a customer grabbed their attention. "Okay, good." They turned to the next person and made their drinks. August actually ended up making several drinks for several people before being able to turn their focus back to Frankie. "Hello again," they grinned and topped off Frankie's water. "I get to take my break as soon as the next bartender comes in for the late shift. Do you want to come back to the break room with me then and show me the ring light and stuff?"

--FRANKIE-- Frankie's face was beginning to hurt from all the smiling and they were starting to realize that was probably going to be the norm when August was around or texting them. They didn't mind. This was actually such a nice feeling. "Perfect. And honestly, I don't think it's possible to grow bored around you so there's that" When August went off to work, Frankie decided to answer some work e-mails but not without stealing a glance or two. It was impossible not to and it made them slightly nervous thinking just how drawn they seemed to be to August. When they returned, Frankie lit up and locked their phone before setting it to the side. "Hi! Thanks! I like watching you. You're good at your job. I can see them fawning over you." They winked at August and then nodded at their little plan. "I love that idea.  I already began setting up your Tik Tok so we just have to add some things and make the first post. " But really, Frankie just wanted to spend more time with them.

--AUGUST-- "Challenge accepted. One of these days, I'll purposely bore you," August teased. Between drinks, August would steal glances at Frankie. Their nose was buried in their phone, doing whatever they were doing. They just hoped they weren't sending out a SOS to someone to save them. August felt certain that their first meeting was going well, though. Finally, when they were able to return to Frankie, they grinned. "You think so? Thank you. There's much more fawning at my other job. But I also wear very tight clothes over there. And sometimes mesh shirts," they chuckled. "Oh really? Fantastic! I'm so grateful you're helping me out." August saw the next bartender come in, and they pointed it out to Raj and the manager on duty. "I'm taking my break!" August took off the half-apron around their waist and came out from behind the bar. "Shall we?" they asked, holding out their hand to help Frankie off the barstool.

--FRANKIE-- Frankie laughed and shouted out to August as they moved around. "You'll be wasting your time." It was funny watching them. All of this seemed so effortless. August was definitely a people person and the patrons loved every single moment. Perhaps Frankie was one of them now. The thought made them chuckle to themselves. "I need to visit you there too, then." Full of relief that the next bartender was ready to begin, Frankie grabbed their phone, tossed it into their bag and the boxed ring light. When August offered their hand, Frankie didn't think anything of it, taking it immediately so that they can step off the stool and the moment Frankie's hand was in August's, they felt a tiny twinge that they had never felt before. It was an unexplainable spike in energy and for a quick second, they wondered if it was the environment. Was it the ambiance? The music? The excitement? It was enough for Frankie to selfishly keep their hand there and they looked up at August with a grin. "Lead the way." They only hope August wouldn't let go until they got to the break room.

--AUGUST-- August smiled when Frankie said they would visit them at Lookout. "Definitely visit there! It's in the Castro. Big, fun gay bar," they grinned. The moment August's took Frankie's hand, they knew they were a goner. Just the simple touch felt like an electric shock to their heart in the best possible way. While they kept telling themself it wasn't a date, August was a bit bold and they laced their fingers with Frankie's as they walked to the break room. It was a short walk, but they wanted to maximize on the time. "Let's sit here," they said and picked one of the rectangular tables where they could sit next to each other.

--FRANKIE-- When their fingers laced together, it was obvious the wedding would be a date, date as Frankie told Celeste they'd try to figure out and while that would usually send them into some headspin, right now they were hyperfocused on how being so close to August made them feel. IT was confusing and invigorating all at once and yet, Frankie was convinced there was no better feeling. "Hm?" They let out a breath they didn't even realize they were holding. It was the best kind of adrenaline rush. how did they manage without this before? "Oh!" Frankie giggled and sat beside August. "Okay.  So I---" Frankie pulled out their phone, still slightly out of breath, and passed it to August, opening up the screen to the Tik Tok. "I'll text you all the details but that's what it looks like and we'll post a simple video and introduce you. You're cute so you'll definitely get a following. Is it hot in here?" Frankie fanned themselves  and bit their bottom lip, choosing to unbox the ring light, turning it on for August to see. except doing so really amplified how beautiful August was. "Oh...you're. Here let me fix this one curl..." Their words trailed off as they tucked August's hair behind their ear and smiled. "I think the camera really likes you..."

--AUGUST-- They grinned and sat next to Frankie, scooting closer to them. For... business reasons. August took the phone and looked between the screen and back to Frankie. They weren't paying as much attention as they should have been. Frankie was so gorgeous and wonderful. "Ha, I hope I get a following for more than my looks," they grinned. "Oh, it's a bit warm in here, yeah." They didn't know if it was just because they were nervous and excited about being near Frankie or if the A/C in the room was busted again. "Whoa, that's brighter than I thought it would be." The little ring light was probably going to make a big difference. August pressed their lips together for a moment as Frankie tucked their hair behind their ear. "The camera..." they muttered and leaned a little closer to Frankie. Before their brain could even comprehend what their heart wanted to do, August's name was called out by a co-worker who burst into the break room. 'August! What's in a Cuba Libre!?' "What?" they asked, pulling away from Frankie. "Dude. It's a fucking rum and coke with a lime wedge. Isn't Raj out there?" Now that the moment was completely ruined and Kevin disappeared again, August cleared their throat. "Um, sorry about that. So, um... ring light. And - and an introductory video."

--FRANKIE-- The math wasn't mathing. These things take time and precision and a lot of overthinking that would send Frankie into their usual overload. Thinking like that ended with Frankie needing a moment or ten to recover from the literal exhausting of trying to socialize more than the trivial stuff. But this? This was easy.  they've been saying that for three and a half days now. Every little ding on their phone made them smile like an idiot and what happened back there? With the hand holding? That was new! But not once did they overthink. Not once did they feel as if this wasn't making sense. Frankie was convinced Raj knew witchcraft or something. And even though their lips were moving, Frankie's brain wasn't processing much. They had just activated their social battery. But everything else seemed to be focused on August and when August leaned in closer, Frankie followed suit. It definitely felt like second nature. Closing their eyes, Frankie's heart sped up only for it to drop into their stomach the moment they heard someone burst in. If this were a show, they'd surely laugh at the situations the main characters had been placed in.  This moment, however, was killing them. When the bartender left, Frankie couldn't help but laugh softly. "I don't care about the ring light. I'm sorry." Frankie snorted, letting out another fit of laughter. Without further hesitation, Frankie leaned in and kissed August on the cheek before whispering, "You owe me."

--AUGUST-- Normally, August wouldn't try to kiss someone on the first date, or first not-date, but being next to Frankie and talking with them just felt right. The funny thing was... Frankie seemed to be going in for the kiss, too. Still, August knew they needed to calm their heart down before it leaped out of their chest. "I don't care about it either," August laughed a little and they reached out for Frankie's hand again. If they weren't going to kiss, they at least wanted to hold the other's hand. After Frankie kissed their cheek, they blushed bright red. August was sure it was immediately obvious, and all smoothness they may have had before went out the window. "I- yes. Yes, absolutely. Add it to my, uh... list for being a good business partner."

--FRANKIE-- Frankie looked down at their joined hands and smiled. They laced their fingers together with August's and gave their hand a gentle squeeze. Seeing August blush was one of the cutest things they've ever seen especially when August had been the smooth one all this time. "That list  is getting pretty long." It was hard to come back now from what just had happened. "I'm starting to wonder if we will get any business done at all." Frankie chuckled, their thumb lazily grazing over August's hand.  "Good thing the wedding is tomorrow..."

--AUGUST-- "The list is getting long," August chuckled. "Um, I have a feeling zero business is getting done tonight. But yeah, the wedding is tomorrow, and I'm very excited. I hope you save a dance or two for me." They had never met Celeste and Thomas before, but they thought they were a cute couple from what they'd seen on Ship-Wrecked. August focused on the way Frankie's thumb felt against their hand. "That feels really nice," they said softly. Their heart was pounding in their chest, and they were worried the other might hear it. August looked up at Frankie, meeting their eyes and hoping not to see that they could tell. For a moment, they thought about leaning in to kiss Frankie, but they didn't want to be interrupted. Again. "Um," they cleared their throat. "How fancy do I need to dress?"

--FRANKIE-- "That is totally okay with me. But I promise I will help you set up a video. And you'll definitely get tons of followers for your content and not just cuz you're cute. Sorry, my brain fizzled a little back there. I think you'll be doing that a lot to my brain." Frankie grinned, mindful to keep their hand in August's. "Excuse me? You're my date. You get most of the dances. So I hope you enjoy dancing because I get down." They chuckled, following August's gaze to their joined hands.  "Yeah? All of this feels nice. Kinda surreal to be honest but nice." Frankie met their eyes and the short pause felt like an eternity. Is this what it was going to be like around them? "Oh! Um, formal wear? Here, I'll show you my dress..." They used their free hand to unlock their phone and pull up their gallery before sliding it over to August, purposely leaning in and resting their head on the bartender's shoulder. "It's a soft lilac."

--AUGUST-- At this point, August wasn't even thinking about the videos. They just nodded a bit and grinned. "You're cute. And yeah. Fizzled brain. I definitely know the feeling," they chuckled. They weren't mad about it though. Frankie could turn their brain to soup anytime. "I'll take as many as I can get. I like to boogie, too," they grinned. August didn't really know many people going to the wedding, so they knew they would probably be attached to Frankie's hip most of the night. "Yeah, really nice. You're... so nice." Yep, all of their smoothness was gone. "Oh, yes. Show me." August sat up just a tiny bit, and they grinned when Frankie leaned their head on their shoulder. They tilted their head just enough to rest on top of Frankie's. "You're going to look amazing. I'm going to have to dig in my closet for something acceptable. And if I can't find anything, I'll just have to go shopping.”

--FRANKIE-- Frankie couldn't stop smiling. The compliments were genuine. They could tell by watching August and how they conveyed what they were feeling. They seemed like the type to say what they felt no matter what and Frankie was the same. It was like meeting someone exactly like them but slightly different. "Yeah? Good. I was in acting and dancing classes as a kid. My nana thought it would be good for me to express myself. She was totally right." They smiled thinking about their childhood. "Thanks. I hope so! You can keep me steady so I don't fall over." Even though Frankie was confident in heels, something was telling them things would be different with August around. "Oo shopping." They chuckled and looked up, nose accidentally bumping onto August's jaw. "Want to meet there? I have to get there slightly early to greet the guests. It's at the botanical gardens. Here's the invite..." Frankie took their phone and sent August the details. "I don't want to go but I bet your break is almost over."

--AUGUST-- "That's adorable," August grinned. "And those classes probably helped you get your job at E!, right?" they grinned. "I absolutely promise I won't let you fall over." They were so excited to dance and just hang out with Frankie again. They were also excited they didn't have to wait too long to see them. August grinned when they felt Frankie's nose nudge their jaw. "Yeah, I'll meet you there. Oh! The botanical gardens are absolutely beautiful." They looked at the invite and thanked Frankie for sending it to them. "Unfortunately, yes. But let me walk you out." August stood up and held Frankie's hand as they walked with them out to the parking lot. "Text me when you get home," they said and kissed Frankie's cheek.

[kettlequills]

affinity

unsure at this point whether elenwen would benefit more from a long course of therapy or a good dicking. luckily, neither of these are in store for her, so enjoy an elenwen who is not hinged at all plus sybille, who is having a very bad day. TW: blood drinking, cutting, violence, manipulation and threat, sexual themes, and character death. implied sybille/istlod, a lil elenwen/elisif, uhh idk if youd say this is elenwen/sybille but hm. enjoy, and gimme a shout if you think it needs an extra tag. a03

Elenwen discovers Sybille's secret, and has ... words.

The Thalmor Ambassador had come to Solitude and found an empty palace. No one else was there but Sybille, left to frustratedly amuse the Ambassador while someone hurried to fetch the steward, the Jarl, somebody. Anybody, but Sybille Stentor. Some dispute had drawn them away – some fluster in the training yard – Sybille neither knew nor cared, except that Falk was not here to ask the Ambassador why she had come to darken their door, nor even Elisif, to gracefully offer wine and bread to the sour-faced elf.

Even if it had not been months since she had last slaked her thirst in the prisons beneath Solitude, Sybille still would have had little patience for this. The Thalmor irritated her, with their poorly-hidden disdain, their smugness, their superiority. As it was, her head pounded, her throat ached, and moving around in the dim evening sunlight was painful enough that it made her vision blur red. She had begun to hear heartbeats in the chests of her friends, the Jarl she was trying to become loyal to, and each night was an exercise in self control growing monumental in difficulty.

And there was Elenwen standing with her hands behind her ramrod back, looking as if she had sniffed something foul. Her expression was so forbidding, so bleak, so threatening that Sybille immediately perceived why the weak-willed guards had found someplace else to be. For once, she was completely alone, unflanked by unsmiling justiciars.

Foolish, or another spiteful little snub. No, Elenwen had nothing to fear in the heart of the Blue Palace – as much as they might whisper into their pillows how much they hated Thalmor oversight, Thalmor gold still sweated in their palms as they tipped their toothless necks back for the glutting. Why bother with guards, when you had the helmless court of Solitude on a leash?

Oh, Istlod. How he would be ashamed, to see his court reduced to this.

“Ambassador,” Sybille ground out, hating this. She wasn’t supposed to be the one greeting dignitaries come to pander and parley. That was Falk’s job, or the Jarl’s – but Istlod was long gone, and Torygg was dead, now.

Torygg, Torygg. He’d been just a boy; Sybille remembered as if it had been yesterday his chubby hands grabbing on the front of her robes, his lisping pronunciation of “ibble!” before he’d learnt to say her name. A gangly teen, pimple-faced but trying desperately to be noble, the pride of Istlod’s eye, blushing-bold. Bare years after, before even the flower of his prime – dead, dead and cold on the cobbles. Sybille had promised Istlod to keep him safe. But she’d failed. She failed, and Torygg was dead, his murderer walking free and all that was left was … Elisif.

Elisif. A dear girl but… not Torygg. Young, foolish, easily swayed. Inexperienced. Weak, when they needed strength. When Sybille needed Torygg. She was fond enough of her but Elisif looked at her like she was drowning, always begging for advice, and when Sybille met her eyes all she saw was the moment when Torygg had heard Ulfric’s challenge ashen-faced, then turned to his bright young wife and visibly steeled himself.

Ready to die, rather than dishonour her, disappoint her.

It wasn’t Elisif’s fault that she had survived Ulfric when Torygg had not, but Sybille could not stop blaming her. Still, Sybille wished she was here now. The young Jarl was better at this, the inane courtesies, the lies, than Sybille was. Even if Sybille thought she was far friendlier to the Thalmor Ambassador than was wise.

“Court Mage,” Elenwen greeted, polite as picture. In her clipped Dominion accent, the two words sounded loathsome as a curse. Her lip curled upwards in an estimation of what she probably thought a smile was supposed to look like. It was all sneer, and like most of the Emissary's facial expressions, was tinged with pointed disgust.

She was standing rigidly in the main hall of the deserted emptiness of the Blue Palace like a stubborn brick over a fire. Choking all the air out of the room, stifling, her presence as oppressive as a lead weight. The maids had all found themselves somewhere else to be, fearing, no doubt, the Ambassador’s legendarily cutting tongue and Sybille’s own displeasure at being left to entertain. As if she did not have a thousand more pressing matters to attend to, and barely the patience besides.

Not even when she was well-fed, which she was not.

They stood in silence for a moment, Sybille warring with herself, before she grudgingly asked, “Are you in need of refreshments, Ambassador?”

Hospitality, to a pit viper. If Sybille had not been what she was, the thought would be funny. As it was, it only insulted – Solitude did not need any more secret teeth tracking the prey that would not be missed. Sybille had heard the rumours, like everyone else, of secret Thalmor dungeons, and screams from beneath the solar so loud that they could be heard over the music during the parties. The prisoners of Solitude – such as they were – were Sybille’s domain.

“No,” said Elenwen, a pinch too swiftly, as if the very idea was nauseating, “And yourself, Court Mage?”

Sybille's control of her face was not so slight that she blinked, but she was aware of a tightening around the skin of her knuckles. The words, the consideration, were so odd in Elenwen’s cold, autocratic tones that at first she was certain she had misheard.

“I fail to see how that is any concern of yours,” Sybille said rudely, and suddenly, Elenwen changed.

She turned fluidly towards Sybille and prowled closer, the stiffness as if she was daring not to breathe for fear of inhaling foul scent gone. Her sneer vanished, smoothed into a smile, wide and full, completely genuine, utterly threatening. Her eyes glittered flatly, like mirrors. Her movements were slow and slinking. Gone were the sharp clicks of her boots, muffled by some trick of her step that left her silent as a panther.

Sybille was left feeling like the world had suddenly shifted to the left and left her behind, as dizzy as if a rug had been pulled out from underneath her. A moment ago, the Thalmor Ambassador had stood in front of her, haughty as ever, unbending with her stiff Altmeri pride – but this hungry, prowling creature was not her.

Her teeth sharpened in her mouth at the implicit threat that rolled off Elenwen, at her approaching closeness, the blood Sybille could sense flushing the capillaries under her skin, pounding through the chambers of her cold Altmeri heart. At once, Sybille was immensely aware that there was no one to observe them; no one at all.

And it had been weeks, weeks since Sybille had drunk her fill.

“How quickly these mortal children wane compared to the lifetime of an elf,” Elenwen murmured. Her voice was throaty and rich, the sharpness of the consonants blurred by a coastal accent that Sybille swore she had not had before. “How we see them pass us and consign the summers of our childhoods to the distant realm of myth and mystery as they bloom and fade in the blink of an eye. Truly, I am impressed at how faithfully you served the late Jarl Torygg, like you served his father Istlod before him. Tell me, how many of them have ... failed to see?"

Elenwen's horrible smile stretched wider.

"But I see, Court Mage.”

“I am perfectly well-appreciated within my position, Ambassador,” Sybille said coldly.

She was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. There was no possible way that Elenwen knew her secret, but the damn elf seemed far too smug for Sybille’s liking. She hated these types, the twisted double-talk that meant something else entirely. Was she attempting to recruit Sybille to the Thalmor? She had to know that Sybille would never have agreed to that, for Istlod’s sake, who had been miserable at the news of the Concordat, if nothing else. Now, if only they were somewhere a little more secluded, then Sybille could teach her some proper manners –

Except no, she couldn’t, that was the Thalmor Ambassador. People would notice if she visited the Solitude dungeons and came back with marks on her neck and a hunger to be bitten, drained deep, pliant in the arms of a predator, better attitude notwithstanding. And Sybille couldn’t kill her. Not without reprisal.

Istlod would have wanted Sybille to kill Elenwen. Except – no, he had agreed to the peace too. Her fangs pressed insistently, dully, on her tongue.

Elenwen’s smile widened. Sybille saw every one of her straight teeth. Too white, too even, lined up like regiment soldiers or grave-markers for war-dead. Some of them were fake, she was willing to bet. This wide, the makeup caking her cheeks folded around her smile unflatteringly, the thick foundation hazed with cracks. Fake, fake, but the blood that ran under her skin was real.

Sybille could force her to bleed, force her to feel spark-bright pain, force her to reveal the truth under her teeth, her claws, her little boot knife. Even an ice-spike would do, chill that golden flesh high and taut until it pebbled with goosebumps and she was shivery and damp, and the heat of her blood spilling over her chest made her gasp at the shock of warmth.

That would make her speak straight and true, if nothing else would.

“It has been a dry spell in the prisons, hasn’t it?” Elenwen purred, soft, sympathetic, as if she was commiserating over something truly terrible, “My condolences, truly, you have been much more patient than I would. But tell me, have any of your beloved young humans noticed you have not aged a day?”

“Many humans are not aware of the life spans of an elf,” she said, to hide the fluttering of something that was beginning to feel like panic or fury. “I am Dunmer, a few decades are no great time to me.”

“Could you go decades, I wonder?” Elenwen’s smile dropped, but the look that replaced it was worse, coquettish, sly. She contrived some way of looking up at Sybille through her eyelashes painted and curled with oil despite her taller height and took a falsely-nervous step closer, all awkward shoulders and sliding foot, just as if she was a wheedling young lover begging her first kiss. But her eyes danced brightly, privately, as if this entire interaction was nothing but a game they were playing, just the two of them. “I rather think you’re hungry now.”

“I ate this morning,” Sybille lied flatly, “with the rest of the hall.”

“Tch,” said Elenwen, as if Sybille had missed a step, and belatedly, Sybille realised it would not be any hardship for a spy group as developed as the Thalmor to verify that lie, “Are you sure, Court Mage? We could test it, if you like. How much of you would be left, after decades? It’s been such a short time, and yet, I can see it in how you look at me.” She came closer, thrilled and faux-breathless. "You are hungry."

“I am quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sybille bluffed, but she knew she had lost. Whatever game the Ambassador was playing, Sybille did not know the dance. She glanced haphazardly around the room, but they were truly alone. She could not hear so much as a scuffing slipper or clank of mail.

“Two months, three, since you last drank blood,” Elenwen clarified, so there was no possibility at all of pretending that she did not know, and smiled, smiled, smiled wide at the look of horror on Sybille’s face. Ice poured down Sybille’s spine. The floor dropped out from underneath her. No, no no, the Thalmor could not know.

“Were you fucking his father?” Elenwen asked conversationally, in the silence that fell, “Torygg’s, I mean.”

“I don’t… That is a serious accusation, Ambassador!” Sybille hissed, ignoring her, unable to name the feeling that started icy in her fingertips and spread dully and low up into her breastbone until she ached the whole way through. Her stomach knotted and writhed.

“Aren’t you thirsty, Sybille Stentor?”

Elenwen was so close now. So close that Sybille had to step back, her tall shadow casting her in gloom. Her eyes were half-moons behind the sun, and the light gilded her blonde hair like it was strands of gold. A strand drifted out of its aggressive pinning as Elenwen bent forward, swaying into Sybille like she was magnetised, and tickled there along her artificially-blushed cheek. Sybille could smell the powders, the hotness of her skin trapped beneath it. She had bleached with lemon oil recently, a faint scent clung to her, almost drowned by the floral drench of cosmetics.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Sybille snapped, mouth dry as bone, and Elenwen laughed. It was full and unrestrained, a laugh from the stomach, and nothing at all like the stiff, courteous little smirks she gave as ambassador. It rang, rich and loud, through the entire hall, down the stairs and over the thrones, and Sybille heard it with a sinking feeling of a lock snapping shut.

Elenwen would never have laughed so loudly, so out of her stiff Ambassador performance, if she thought it was possible she could be overheard. Would she? Was this a bluff?

Sybille’s gaze darted again to the dark eyes of the doorways, but the palace seemed empty. Were there Thalmor in the wings? Elisif. Was the Jarl safe? She should be – though had not Sybille sent a servant to fetch the Jarl, the steward? Was Elenwen planning to unmask her before the court?

“Come on now,” said Elenwen, warmly, her smile conspiratorial like they shared a secret, just her and Sybille, “We’re all alone now, and I’m right here. Why don’t you bite me? Look,” She undid the first two buttons of her uniform, exposing a long line of pale gold throat. “I’ll make it easy. Do you like it easy?”

“Are you insane?!” Sybille snapped. There was no other possible response to that.

Nonetheless, her eyes were drawn to the expanse of bared skin, the delicate lines of the veins and tendons in Elenwen’s neck. She could see the forklike line of her jugular, the thinner softnesses of her veins. Vulnerable. The skin here had not been painted and powdered, hidden as it normally was under her collar. It was paler, yellower, like Elenwen did not get enough sun. Sybille wondered how she bruised. Whether she would paint over the bruises Sybille would leave her, when she woke in the morning, and wondered how she had struck her neck in the night.

Sybille swallowed around a mouth pooling with spit. It had been too long.

She could see the hollow where Elenwen’s pulse fluttered, waiting for Sybille to sink her teeth home. What would she taste like? Could anyone truly blame her, if she took just a little taste, just the tiniest mouthful, to sate her burning throat?

Surely, if she was doomed already, it would not hurt.

“Bite me,” ordered Elenwen, steely. Softer, she said, “Bite me, Sybille Stentor. You must be so thirsty. Doesn’t it feel like flames in your throat?”

It did, it felt like each inhale peeled dry chunks of her throat off with all the gentleness of searing sandpaper. Elenwen was so close now that Sybille could lift her chin and kiss her, close enough that her breath, warm, alive, smelling vaguely of summer-wine, brushed Sybille’s cold cheeks. Elenwen’s warmth was like another creature between them, the impossibility of Sybille being the dead one, with Elenwen’s eyes like a mirror to every fear Sybille had ever banished.

“You must have confused me with someone else,” Sybille said faintly as Elenwen stepped even closer. Their bodies brushed, her breath fanned hotly over Sybille’s forehead.

Elenwen hummed a little, disappointed. “Perhaps,” she said, and suddenly there was a dagger in her hand, so quick even Sybille’s vampiric eyes could not spot it. Just as fast, the dagger flashed, once, twice – and then the heavenly aroma of fresh blood reached Sybille’s nose. On Elenwen’s neck, either side of her tendons, two deep slices welled fresh red, deep, deep enough that after the first droplet rolled enticingly towards her collarbones another followed.

Sybille swallowed. She could smell it, thick as perfume, tantalising as an oasis in the desert. Elenwen’s blood was fresh, healthy, and right there. It was bright red, scandalously scarlet, against the warm gold of her throat, like a slash of silk. The candlelight from Sybille’s little alcove shone and shimmered in the droplet like the magicka in it sparked and sung, for Sybille alone. Begging her, almost, to lean forward – barely any movement at all, to chase the droplet with her tongue, lap up along that proud, stiff neck to the wet gash that fluttered like breathless lips waiting to be kissed.

How fast was Elenwen’s heart beating, to push such quick, steady little pulses down her neck? The collar of her robes was darkening to a liquid blackness, but Elenwen did not seem faint at all. Would she be strong til the end, Sybille wondered, would her heart hammer and struggle against her lips, her hands, her body and Sybille’s mouth? Would she pant and gasp and writhe, or would she fall still and silent, terror-glazed eyes and frozen muscles, or best of all, would she struggle and strain, drum weakening hands against the firm cage of Sybille’s arms?

“It’s a bad time to be a vampire in Solitude, isn’t it?” Elenwen asked, friendly, almost sweet, “With all that terrible news about undead stirring in the catacombs. A death sentence for you if anyone should find out, I expect.”

Sybille opened her mouth but her fangs were beginning to protrude, and venom ran eagerly down her chin. Elenwen’s gaze tracked the wetness in her mouth, and her voice dropped an octave when she spoke again.

“But I’m right here, and I’m offering,” said Elenwen, soft as a spider, warm as the blood Sybille could not tear her eyes from. “I could do so much for you if you enthralled me. All the power of the Thalmor at your fingertips…”

She chuckled, darkly. This close, Sybille felt it vibrate through her chest into Sybille’s own. The movement of her shoulders had a droplet of blood, teetering on the steep ridge of her tendon, tumble headlong into the sleek curve of the dip where her collarbones joined her neck. The swipe of red glistened wetly.

“… and I have so many more little puppets dancing for me than you could ever guess, Sybille Stentor. You would never have to fear being found again. All it would take is… a taste. Bite me.”

Pressing her shoulders back against the wall, Sybille turned her head away stubbornly. The stone was cold through her robes. Elenwen’s warmth was dizzying by contrast. Sybille was hot with bloodlust, had never wanted so badly. She was aware, as if it was happening to someone else, that she was trembling.

Involuntarily, she considered Elenwen’s offer. Imagined stepping forward, grasping the elf’s thin waist, following the trail of blood with her tongue. Licking up that taunting trail over the rigid line of her tendon, sucking hard and strong on the slash she’d cut into her own neck, the bones of Elenwen’s hips fine as glass under her grip. Imagined how Elenwen would go moaning-soft and boneless as butter in her arms, her long ears brushing over Sybille’s hood as her head drooped. How Sybille would have to catch her when her knees buckled, the reflexive way she would go to push Sybille away turned to a trembling grasp, rigid at first by the pain, then softened by the venom, how her brilliant, hard blazing eyes would go soft, dark, round with venom and bloodloss euphoria, when Sybille imposed her will over her, how Sybille would drink, and drink, and drink-

But no – it was broad daylight in the middle of the fucking Blue Palace, there was no way that Sybille could drain Elenwen or thrall her quick enough to avoid discovery, and that was only if Elenwen didn’t have some other plan. There was no way that Sybille would go along with some Thalmor plot out of – hunger, hunger alone.

What would Istlod say?

Elenwen pressed close until she was crowding Sybille against the wall. Her body was thin and bony, the buckles of her uniform dug into Sybille’s breastbone. Her lips brushed the tip of Sybille’s ear through her hood when she spoke. This close, the smell of blood was intoxicating.

But Sybille was not strong enough to push her away.

“Drink,” Elenwen cajoled. “It’s been so long since you last had a prisoner, hasn’t it? …Such unfortunate accidents.”

Sybille heard the shift of cloth, that and outrage had her turning her head back to glare at Elenwen, but she was too close, and instead Sybille’s nose butted against her smooth cheek. Her skin was searing hot, a fine dust from her makeup tickled Sybille’s nose. Sybille felt Elenwen’s repressed shiver at the chilly brush of Sybille’s dead skin against hers in the pit of her stomach. “You-?”

“Me,” Elenwen confirmed, smile widening in Sybille’s peripheral vision.

Sybille was transfixed as Elenwen lifted her finger to the bleeding wound on her neck and shoved her finger in, stark, bold, crass. Her smile never wavered at all at the pain. Her bright, bright eyes were focused on Sybille. The part of Sybille that had been mortal once was horrified at her disregard, the part of her that thirsted so badly for blood it barely cared anymore found it unbearably erotic.

She behaved like a venom-drunk thrall, but she smelled rich and fresh, unbitten, untainted. Did she feel no pain, or did she not care? … Did she like it?

The deepened wound gushed redly down her neck, and Elenwen leaned even closer, until the warmth of her body pressed Sybille’s cold one through their robes, like she wanted to become one with her bones, buckles and all. She was thin, thinner than Sybille had expected her to be; she could feel the ridges of Elenwen’s ribs, her small breasts, the cavernous flutter of her stomach.

Elenwen’s finger, glistening with her own blood, raised towards Sybille’s watering mouth.

There was nowhere to go. She turned her head, straining, but Elenwen chased her, cornered her, and Sybille’s mouth parted involuntarily to stop it from painting her lips red. If she tasted the blood – even a droplet – Sybille knew she couldn’t hold back. She choked out a little moan when Elenwen let her finger rest there inside Sybille’s mouth without touching her at all, breathing in the scent of her, so strong, so present. Slender and long, she could have tickled the back of Sybille’s throat if she chose, made her cough and gag and choke, but she did not, instead she teased, not touching, not tasting, forcing Sybille to breathe around the inescapable allure of her.

“I must confess a little professional curiosity,” Elenwen told her, intimate as a lover’s whisper, “I’ve never met a vampire before, and I’ve always wondered how it compares. The blood of Alinor’s finest surely ought to taste better than the swill in the dungeons, though personally, I can’t say I’ve ever tasted much of a difference – Nord, Altmer, Dunmer, we’re all good in wine.” She smirked a little at that. “Won’t you taste, for me?”

The saliva pooled down around Sybille’s fangs and over her chin. She closed her eyes in humiliation.

Elenwen tutted. “I suppose not. Perhaps this will help.” She drew closer, closer, nudging under Sybille’s hood, until her breath puffed over Sybille’s ear, waking long dead nerves with a shiver. Her free hand bracketed the wall above Sybille’s head, then stroked down over the back of her neck and seized the base of her skull. Her fingers knotted into the hair there, each one hot as a brand.

Sybille forced her tongue against her teeth, trying to ground herself through the strain in her jaw. Elenwen’s blooded finger in her mouth was a burning beacon, commanding attention. Spit and venom drooled continuously down her chin. Elenwen’s thready heartbeat – affected, now, by the bloodloss – pounded underneath Sybille’s ribs like a call to war.

“I killed Torygg,” Elenwen breathed into Sybille’s ear. “I told Ulfric to kill him. I broke his mind and I told him to murder poor King Torygg. I was told he squealed like a stuck pig when Ulfric knocked him down, broke his darling bones with one of those beastly shouts of his. Did you hear them break? There’s a certain sound a bone makes when it shatters beyond repair, and the look in a plaything’s eyes, when they realise they are only breakable meat – well, you don’t need me telling you how sweet that is. … I envy you. I wish I could have seen it.”

Elenwen’s gory detail was not needed. That day was burned into Sybille’s memory, the dull wet pops, the snaps and cracks of Torygg’s bones, the horrible thud and the wail he’d made in the thunderous after-shocks of that terrible Shout, the bitter venom in Sybille’s mouth when Ulfric contemptuously cut his head from what remained of his shoulders with one swipe. Ruby-red, it spurted from the messy stump, it had puddled in the grooves of the courtyard’s cobbles, and weeks after rust-red flecks were found, splattering shoes and hems. Torygg had contained so much blood in him, so much of Istlod, and his iron scent was seared into her nose, her mind, mixing with the tantalising barely-there taste of Elenwen in her mouth.

Sybille gurgled on a gasp. She closed her eyes harder, overwrought, fighting to restrain the tears that welled there. That broke through the blood-haze. She’d known. She’d known it had been too simple, that it hadn’t made sense. But – the Thalmor, killing Torygg? Manipulating Stormcloak?

Elenwen moaned at something on Sybille’s face, tearing her concentration. The vibration stirred Sybille’s chest, the quiver of her ear, and Elenwen’s hips ground against hers in subtle, excited circles. It was vile. It was seductive. Sybille had never wanted to break more than she did now. She deserved to die. Wouldn’t it be worth it? Grief, sick desire, warred with prudence. But – this was what she wanted, Sybille fought to remember, the Ambassador was trying to manipulate Sybille to – to –

She was so thirsty.

Sybille’s teary glare did not seem to faze Elenwen at all. This close, she could see the breaks in the makeup that covered Elenwen’s skin, the artificial wrinkles that made her look older than she truly was. Everything fake, a performance. She made a negative sound around the venom bubbling out of her mouth, and Elenwen smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“And I think I might fuck that idiot doll you’ve got on the throne, too,” Elenwen whispered, and Sybille’s jaw muscle jumped. Her catlike eyes warmed with glee. “Oh, I know you were warning her off my little parties. Came back in too much of a state once, did she? The funny thing is that she approaches me – you should be thanking me, really, all that whining about her poor husband, but she cheers right up if you get a little summerwine into her, turns right into quite the … bold … little … slut.”

That last word was delivered in a hiss, lips brushing Sybille’s ear, and at once, she couldn’t take it any longer. She jerked to snarl back, and Elenwen’s bloodied finger rubbed the soft wetness of the inside of Sybille’s mouth. The rich taste of fresh blood overwhelmed her, blanked her mind. Sybille sucked reflexively, and Elenwen’s breath stuttered in her chest. She threw back her head, exposing her bloody neck, and ground hungrily into Sybille.

“Does your doll like knives?” Elenwen panted. “I do.”

Then, she laughed, delighted and breathless, as Sybille’s hands left the wall and found themselves somehow on Elenwen’s back, pressing her close, wrinkling her robes beneath clenched fists. She bit the flesh between her teeth, dazed, searching tongue prodding for all the blood she could smell but not taste. Her own venom burned her throat when she swallowed.

“Oh, though I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Elenwen continued, tugging her finger free, “She will learn to, if I want her.”

Her body tensed as if she meant to move back, but Sybille shot forward faster than lightning with a bloodcurdling snarl. She seized Elenwen’s hair and waist in a vicious grip, bringing her face close to the dripping wounds. The blood, hot and wet, the revenge, the wanting. At last, Sybille dared a tentative lick, a long, sure line up Elenwen’s neck, chasing the path of the bleeding. She tasted like magic, sun, knives, sharp and a little acrid. Intoxicating. Sybille smoothed over the wetness of the open wound, and she hesitated there, damnation at her lips.

A man’s face was before her eyes, fuzzy Nord-beard, mournful wrinkle-sagged stare. …Istlod?

Elenwen did not fight her at all, though Sybille felt the prick of her dagger against her ribs, a second from slipping into her heart, even as she whimpered at the tightness of Sybille’s grip on her fine hair. It was soft, thin as insect-wings over Sybille’s fist. Elenwen’s body hummed with tension like a live-wire, she breathed in gasps, and she trembled faintly with an unbearable want that Sybille could feel straining to pierce the skin, meet its echo in the parched emptiness of Sybille’s bloodless gut. But her knife tickled at Sybille’s robes, warning and promise both.

“Go on,” Elenwen goaded, her voice strained, a little breathy, cracked with desperation, “Hurt me. You must want to. I killed him, I starved you. Hurt me.”

Could she drain Elenwen before Elenwen stabbed her? There was some reason why Sybille could not drink, she knew that, but all thought deserted her every time she breathed, every time she couldn’t help herself and licked the welling blood before it reached Elenwen’s collar, tracing the topography of her willing throat. Elenwen made sounds, beautiful and ragged, when Sybille lapped at her with her cold tongue, shivered in her arms, all eager sighs and clutching hands and poised knives. But still, Sybille did not affix her mouth over the pumping vein and drain, drain, drain her dry.

“Just-!” Elenwen bit out, “What’s wrong with you? Just – do it…”

Sybille strained against her desires. A battleground between her self-control, the mind of the mage who had served loyally for years, and the hungry animal that howled for blood. Istlod. Torygg. The sweetness of the elfsblood – sunlight and sweat, blade-tip lick – in her mouth. The iron reek of Torygg splattering over the cobbles. Elenwen’s gasps, overlaid with the symphony of Torygg’s body breaking, shattering, pulping under the force of Ulfric’s rage. The world had quaked then, now it whimpered in Sybille’s arms, immobilised by her grip. Istlod at peace on his bed, still smiling his last smile. Torygg’s tears. Elisif wailing, when the sword came down. The war-prisoners in the dungeon, hollow-eyed men whose blood tasted of death and despair. The Thalmor’s snake-whisper, hurt me.

Sybille felt Elenwen’s ear twitch against her hand. A moment later, footsteps rushing towards them.

“Out of time, vampire,” Elenwen cooed, almost a disappointed sigh, and when she pulled back this time Sybille felt her numb fingers release her.

She swallowed, copiously, trying to empty her mouth of spit, and burned hotly with indignation.

“You dare,” Sybille rasped, but Elenwen only quirked her lips, apathetic to Sybille’s fury.

A flash of light and the marks were gone, eaten by healing magic. The dagger disappeared into the folds of her robes, the buttons done up, the stray hair smoothed back into its severe imprisonment. She stood an easy few paces away, as if she had never dared to come so close to a starved vampire, a vampire she had starved. It took moments, and through it all Elenwen’s expression was bored, not a hint of fluster, not even a breath of that wretched amusement or nauseating intrigue.

“I’ll send a prisoner or two your way,” Elenwen promised in a flat voice, plucking at the neckline of her robe. “Do think of me when you drink them, won’t you?”

She drew herself up, and suddenly the Ambassador was back, rigid and stern.

“The Thalmor appreciates your cooperation in this matter, Court Mage,” she said sniffily, the accent disappearing as if it had never been there in exchange for the ringing, cold tones Sybille was used to from her. Pinched about her eyes there was nothing but vague disdain, as if she knew nothing about Sybille, as if she had never clung to Sybille and all-but-pleaded to her, and in fact, considered her just as interesting as a cockroach beneath her heel.

She turned away when Falk rushed out of the bowels of the Blue Palace and greeted her with a flurry of apologies. There was not a wrinkle on her uniform. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble as she followed Falk, reverberating into Sybille’s ears, as if she was the only sound.

Sybille sagged against the wall, and cursed Elenwen in every tongue she knew. Sybille considered herself good at reading people, had thought herself safe, well-protected here at the heart of the court. But the damned Thalmor had her over a barrel. She had no doubt these prisoners of Elenwen’s would be nothing but good men and women who had simply fallen on the wrong side of the Dominion, and Sybille nothing more than a convenient way of disposing of them. She could not see a way out of this trap easily – Elenwen could expose her with a word, had proven her control over Sybille’s food source, had threatened the last dregs of the family Sybille had loved.

Sybille needed blood from those who wouldn’t be missed, needed secrecy, needed to be in court even more than ever to protect Elisif and Solitude now she had glimpsed the danger Elenwen posed: the disdainful Ambassador, the eager prey, the gloating predator, glossed in her makeup to falsely age herself, in her uniform that hid her thinness, with her secrets and her contradictory masks. And yet, the most troubling of all was that Sybille could not tell which of the sides of Elenwen she had seen was the truth, and which was the lie.

[tiifalockhart]

Secrecy

Anonymous asked: Can you please make a Sora x fem Organization member Reader? One where Sora has to date her in secret because of what sides they’re on.

Pairing: Sora x Organization!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mentions death, emotional numbness, alludes to anxiety 

A/N: helloo I’m back with another Kingdom Hearts one-shot!!! I really liked writing for Sora and I can’t wait to do more hehe, I hope you all enjoy!!

Ao3 || Masterlist

The days you’ve spent in the Organization remained uncounted. It had felt like an eternity by now, every day blurred together. 

Xemnas continued to push his ideas as Saix piled missions on each of the members. You wanted to say you were tired, but you were never sure. Realistically, you could keep going until you’re inevitably defeated, but you didn’t want to. Something about it just didn’t feel right. Your missions were odd... The whole goal didn’t make sense to you. Even after members began to disappear, you still felt unsure. 

Once Roxas and Xion were gone, and Axel kept mentioning the idea of disappearing, you began to sway that direction as well. Nothing was making sense anymore. Xemnas’ goal of collecting hearts for Kingdom Hearts wasn’t making sense. You grew worried, members of the Organization were slowly disappearing or being picked off one by one, and you didn’t want to be the next one. 

So, that fateful day when you finally came face-to-face with the perpetrator, you were... Confused. He seemed to be a little younger than you, his companions looked like they had quite literally jumped out of a cartoon. They were the ones taking out the Organization members? You laughed at the thought. 

This seemed to catch the boy off-guard. He tensed and immediately summoned his weapon, holding it towards you. He yelled something at you, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes fell to the weapon he was holding. A keyblade... So that’s what it looked like.

Xemnas had told you that you should avoid it, that you were too weak to face it... You’d show him, you’re a lot stronger than anyone gives you credit to be. With your selfish desire, you fought him. He put up a stronger fight than you expected, but he still seemed to be slightly inexperienced. When the fighting stopped, you stared at him, a curious glint in your eyes. 

“Tell me, what is your name?” You asked, maintaining your mysterious aura. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stood straight. 

“Sora, and this is-” You raised your hand to stop him. 

“I like you, Sora. We should meet again, some time.” You replied, a small smile forming on your lips. It wasn’t a lie, he interested you. How had someone so inexperienced and young gained a power like the keyblade? As the darkness consumed you, the last thing you saw was him running at you, before you appeared back in The World that Never Was. 

You hadn’t seen him for... Who knows how long. The concept of time was lost on you at this point. You refused to seek him out this time, it would feel... Wrong to go out and find him. You were lucky enough he managed to bump into you at Twilight Town. A sly grin formed on your features as you looked down at him. 

“It’s good to see you again, Sora... Where are your friends?” You asked, raising a brow as you looked around for them. He seemed to be caught off-guard by your appearance, causing him to back away and summon his blade. A quiet chuckle left your lips as you waved your hand dismissively. “I’m not interested in fighting.” You pointed out, leaning against the nearby wall.

Sora stared at you, a slightly confused expression forming on his features. “What do you want, then? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” He asked, the emphasis making you cringe.

“They’re not my friends.” You retorted, crossing your arms stubbornly. “They’re coworkers, it’s totally different.” You stated, shaking your head. “Shouldn’t you be like... Fighting a bunch of stuff anyways? Why are you here by yourself?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged. “I... Well, I don’t know. I’m just here.” Sora replied, tilting his head to the side with a quiet chuckle. 

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “I see... So, you’re just here because you can be? That’s it?” You questioned. Even Axel can give better excuses. 

Sora nodded and raised his hands in defense. “What, are you saying you’re here for a different reason?” He joked. The two of you snickered, before you sighed. 

“No, I usually wander around here around this time. I used to spy on a couple of friends who bought ice cream here.” You explained, shrugging as you continued to walk. Sora followed you like a lost puppy.

“Do you like ice cream? They have pretty good sea-salt ice cream here apparently.” He pointed out, as if he were hinting at something. Although, it went straight over your head. 

“Mm, no. It’s not really my kind of dessert.” You answered, beginning to walk towards the clock tower. 

“Well, what do you like?” He asked, stretching his arms behind his head. “Surely nobodies have favorite foods.” 

You glanced over at him, raising a brow. “Are you trying to ask me on a date?” You asked, you voice carrying a slightly surprised tone. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“No, of course not.” He replied, winking. He was definitely asking you on a date. 

“Uh... Right. Well, I can show you where I like to hang out, I guess.” You responded, still bewildered by his boldness. 

The two of you ended up enjoying your secret date. It was like nothing you’ve experienced before, even when you were whole. When it came time to part, you felt yourself... Dreading it. Sora was a lot more fun and goofy than you expected, it was quite charming and refreshing. You actually found yourself genuinely laughing, more than you have since you became a nobody. 

As the two of you walked towards the Twilight Town plaza, you turned towards Sora and looked down at him. “I enjoyed your company today... I hope we can do it again.” You mentioned somewhat awkwardly, unsure of how to end your ‘meeting.’

Sora snickered at your flustered state, shrugging. “We will. How about a couple of days from now? We can meet in Hollow Bastion, I’ll be there.” He offered, wiggling his brows. 

You chuckled at his humorous state, waving him off. “I’ll consider it. Don’t tell anyone about this meeting, though.” You reminded as you backed away slightly. A dark pool formed around your feet as you waved goodbye, watching as he waved back before disappearing in the surrounding darkness. A sigh of relief left your lips as you arrived back at the Grey Room. You received no questioning gazes from anyone, not even a sassy “Where have you been?” from Axel. The paranoid feeling that you hadn’t realized was there dissipated as you quietly entered your private quarters, a shaky sigh leaving your lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea... Xemnas was allowed to indulge himself, wasn’t he? Why couldn’t you?

A few days passed since your first date. You actually seemed to be looking forward to seeing Sora again. Even though you were on different sides... You knew you liked him. You silently waited in the shadows, hidden away from any prying eyes as you waited for him. When the time came, you quietly wandered out of the shadows, searching for the brown-haired boy, before raising a brow once she saw him. 

Your second date went smoothly with him, you ended up showing him a secret area that many people didn’t have access too... He seemed interested enough. You found yourself smiling and laughing at his silly jokes and gestures, even though nobodies weren’t supposed to have feelings. It was weird... Something you haven’t felt since you lost yourself. You felt yourself falling for him more and more. 

Over time, these dates became more frequent and slightly more risky. You felt gazes on you every time you returned to the Castle, Axel would occasionally ask you where you’ve been, you weren’t sure how you should answer him, so you usually blurted out some random mission title before rushing off. Sora didn’t seem to care though, he was just happy to see you every so often. 

One night in Twilight Town, the two of you sat peacefully on top of the clocktower. Neither of you spoke, you simply enjoyed the comfortable silence. Sora eventually brought up conversation. “You know... I’ve had a lot of fun over the past months. I like hanging out with you.” He explained, glancing over at you. 

Something similar to a blush formed on your cheeks as you nodded in agreement, staring down at the plaza below. “Yeah... It’s been pretty nice.” You replied awkwardly. 

Sora nodded hesitantly as you two descended into another silence. Suddenly, he perked up at looked over at you. “So, I’ve been thinking... Maybe you should join our side.” He offered, causing you to raise your brows in surprise. How was he so bold?

An awkward chuckle left your lips. “Sora, you know I can’t do that. I’m a nobody.” You replied, shrugging. “Plus, Xemnas wouldn’t enjoy the idea of one of his members getting out.” You added, sighing softly. 

Sora shrugged as he looked over at you. “All we have to do is get your heart back, right? Sounds easy enough.” He pointed out, tilting his head to the side. He was so naïve... It was kind of cute. 

“I don’t think that’s how that works.” You answered, your legs swinging over the edge of the clocktower. 

“I think we can do it. Surely it’s possible. When I find out, I promise I’ll help you.” Sora grinned, an optimistic tone to his voice. You raised a brow and nodded hesitantly.

“If that’s the case... Then I suppose I can join you. There isn’t much left for me here anyways.” You replied, glancing over at him. 

That conversation didn’t go much further than that, but you had faith in Sora. If he truly had a plan to somehow bring your heart back, you wouldn’t stop him. As you returned home, you felt more gazes on you as you wandered the halls almost aimlessly. Was there truly a way out of this daily numbness? 

As time went on, you and Sora saw each other less and less. You were drowning in missions as Xemnas prepared to face these supposed “Warriors of Light” or something, and Sora seemed to be busy himself. You felt that numbness beginning to consume you, since you really had no one besides Axel. Even Axel seemed to be down in spirits. Morale was low and you never thought you’d miss anyone again. Sora was like... A sunshine. You missed the warmth he made you feel. 

It wasn’t until he and his friends suddenly appeared in the World That Never Was. When the two of you met near the entrance of the Castle, a confused expression formed on your features. “Sora? What are you doing here?” You asked, causing a light hearted laugh to leave him. 

“What do you mean? Haven’t you heard already?” He replied ominously, causing more turmoil within you. Him and his party ended up running by, disappearing into the Castle and leaving you confused beyond belief. 

Suddenly, it all clicked. The keyblade, his friends, his random disappearance. He was... 

You ended up following him inside, catching up to him after his fight with Xigbar. A conflicted look formed on your features. “How... Why... I’m so confused...” You whispered between breaths. He simply shook his head. 

“I promised something, didn’t I?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. “But... I think I have to defeat you in order for your heart to return.” Sora admitted, a conflicted expression forming on his features. 

“Defeat me... Like, in a battle?” You asked, taking a step back. He hesitated, then reached out to take your hand. 

“I know, but it won’t be bad. It’ll be like waking up again, you know?” Sora attempted to reassure, but you were still reluctant. 

“Did you... Was this a plan to betray me?” You asked, your voice shaking. Sora opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly cut him off. “I trusted you... And this is what it came to? Wh-Why?” You asked, a distressed tone to your voice. He tried to defend himself, but you weren’t listening. 

Eventually, you two did fight. You felt betrayed and in danger, and he had no other choice but to fight back. It wasn’t until you couldn’t hold your weapons anymore when you finally gave up with fighting. You fell to your knees in front of him, watching as black particles began to float from your hands. It seemed to be inevitable. 

Sora stood before you, a guilty look on his features as he stared down at you. “Look- I-I’m sorry-” He tried to apologize, but you stopped him. 

“If what you’re saying is true, then I suppose this is for the better. If it isn’t... Well... I guess we’ll find out.” You explained, looking up at him. You didn’t remember much after that, it felt like you slowly fell asleep, lulled by the slow release of numbness. 

When you woke up again, you were somewhere completely different. The concept of time was lost on you, and you could hardly remember anything from the time between. You slowly sat up, noticing that you no longer wore the Organization coat, instead, you were dressed in your clothing before you lost your heart. A confused look formed on your features, until you felt someone’s presence near you. 

Your eyes widened once you saw Sora next to you, currently asleep. A quiet gasp left your lips as you were overwhelmed with emotions, immediately tackling him into a hug and embracing him tightly. His eyes flew opened as he let out a surprised yelp, before grinning once he realized what was happening. 

“Hey... You’re finally awake!” He replied, looking down at you. You nodded happily and pulled away slightly. 

“Yeah... I am... I guess that you were right.” You replied awkwardly, your brows furrowing. “Thank you, Sora.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks. 

Now, it was Sora’s turn to blush. His cheeks heated up as he stared down at you, nodding hesitantly as he looked away. “Y-Yeah. Come on, I have to tell the others you’re awake.” He murmured, standing and grabbing your hand, guiding you out of the room. 

You allowed him to pull you along, a smile on your lips. It had been so long since you felt anything like this, but surely, this is what love feels like. 

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Prologue

Summary: Jensen and Y/n take the plunge into their forever.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 5.3K+

Warnings: Language, 

Author’s Note: Well, without further adieu, here she is! I’ve been so nervous to post this series because I wanted to make sure it lives up to all your expectations. Your feedback is gold, so please let me know what you think! xoxo Alex (Bold texts are Jensen, italicized are reader)

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The sunlight from the grand windows on the west wall of the hall was quickly being replaced by the soft glow of the lights above and the candles flickering on the table. Indistinct chatter filled the small space that the couple had reserved for their rehearsal dinner. The group’s bellies were full and the drinks were still flowing. 

“You’re looking a bit tired there,” Jensen’s hand landed on his fiancée’s thigh, squeezing gently to get her to look at him. 

“Mmm, I am, but I’m not ready to go,” she hummed, her eyes heavy with the events of the day. 

“Why’s that?” 

“It’s gonna be weird, you know, sleeping away from you. I just got used to you being home lately,” the woman shrugged, placing her hand on top of his. She traced a pattern with her finger over his knuckles, her gaze concentrated on her task. Their friends and family continued to chat excitedly around them as the two slipped away into their own world without ever leaving the table. 

“I know. I’m not used to having a whole bed to myself, or someone not stealing my covers in the night,” Y/n gasped low, looking up at Jensen to find him smirking at her, her favorite dimples on display on the corners of his lips. The woman scowled at him and his ability to be so freaking cute as a grown man. 

“You know,” a mischievous smile grew on her face as she turned his hand over and linked their fingers together. “We aren’t married yet, there is absolutely nothing stopping me from, I don’t know, just not showing up tomorrow.” 

Jensen hummed, “Happy wife, happy life.” receiving the exact reaction out his fiancée that he had hoped for; a sharp smack to his shoulder. 

“Ugh, you know how much I hate that saying.” Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at the way she rolled her eyes. His fiancée joined in on the laughter, only for it to be broken by a wide yawn. 

“Alright, that’s enough for you, honey. You need to sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” Y/n frowned at his declaration but she knew there was no use in fighting him. She wasn’t lying when she said it would be weird to not have him in bed with her tonight. Her one hope was exhausting her body to the point of passing out the minute her head hit the pillow. So far, it was working, seeing as she wasn’t even sure that she could stand from her chair and make it up to her room. 

Y/n blinked slowly as Jensen stood from his chair, reaching out to help her to her feet. “Alright, I think it’s time I put this one to bed if I want her to get out of up tomorrow.” 

“Ah, such a kidder,” Y/n mocked as the crowd laughed and bid the couple goodnight. Jensen slipped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side as he took her to the elevator. The entrepreneur leaned into him as they rode up to her floor, her eyes fluttering closed as she basked in his scent while she still could. The steady drum of his heart lulled her into a place she so desperately wanted to be, but the shudder of the cart had her eyes flashing open too soon. 

“Alright, here we go,” Y/n handed over her keycard to Jensen and he pushed open the door. He let go of his grip on her and urged her in. 

“You coming in?” She turned once through the threshold, looking back at him still in the hall. 

“Nice try,” He smiled, the action softening his features. “One night, babe. We can make it through, then it’s you and me forever.” 

Her tongue rolled out over her lips as she leaned against the door. “Aw, that was an adorable thing to say, you know that?” 

“As long as you don’t tell Jared, then we are safe.” 

“Ahhh, I’ve heard the things he’s said to Gen so he really has no place to talk,” Y/n quirked an eyebrow, eliciting a similar response from the man standing outside her door. 

“Wait—”

“Goodnight Ackles,” her voice trailed off in a soft melody as she closed the door, his muttered ‘son of a bitch’ the last thing she heard before he was gone. 

She made quick work of her nightly routine before settling into the plush comforter of her hotel bed. Her body sank into the cool sheets, the exhaustion winning over her body easily. 

The only thing was it didn’t last for her. Y/n soon found herself tossing and turning under the plush covers. The bed was too large by herself, and every time her hand landed on an empty bed instead of her fiancé, she was jolted awake. She let out a huff as she stared up at the dark ceiling. A small sliver of light appeared suddenly and she turned over to grab her phone.

Hey baby, I hope you aren’t awake like I am, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. 

Y/n smiled at the screen. Even after being together for almost two years, she kept finding more and more ways they were alike. What were the odds that both of them were lying awake in the middle of the night thinking of each other at the same time? 

You’re out of luck. This bed is too big without you.

She shot him back a quick text before locking her phone and holding it against her chest. His reply took no time at all. 

I know how you feel, believe me. Get some sleep, I’ll see you at the altar. 

Y/n had to chuckle to herself.

The only thing coming to my mind now is stupidly cheesy, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I’ll be the one in white. 

Hahaha, you’re right, that is cheesy. But I still love you.

You better.

Y/n put her phone back on the bedside table. Somehow, just talking to him and knowing he was up too made her feel better about sleeping alone. Maybe she should feel bad about smiling at him tossing and turning along without her, but right now she couldn’t care less because all it did was show her that she was making the right choice. 

Y/n was out again within minutes.

****

When they say your wedding day goes by in a flash, they truly aren’t kidding. Y/n woke up more refreshed than she expected when her alarm went off in the morning. She was also far less anxious than she expected as she went about her usual morning routine. Coffee and yogurt were sent up to her room with a note from Jensen telling her he knew she would forget to eat unless he got her something, which had made her chuckle because he was right. 

Her mother was there to pick her up and take her to the venue at noon. The older woman was quiet on the relatively short drive to the manor just outside Austin. Y/n knew it was only a matter of time until her mother was sobbing, so she was thankful for this time to relax and enjoy the sunshine. 

When they finally arrived at The Grand Lady, there were few cars in the parking lot, most of them belong to her bridal party. The guys lucked out with being able to go out for lunch seeing as they didn’t need hours in a hair and makeup chair, a fact which she and Jensen disagreed on. She had insisted that she could do her own makeup and save some money, but he would not hear of her quote, working, unquote on her wedding day, so she went along with him and hired people to make her shine.

Genevieve, Mackenzie, and her high school friends Stella, Delilah, and Grace were already in the bridal suite when Y/n and her mother arrived. The champagne bottle from the mimosa bar was popped before she even had a chance to set her bag down. The young entrepreneur had to remind herself to take the drinks slowly, seeing as she was getting married later that evening, not that her bridesmaids held that same regard. 

Before she knew it, it was nearing time to get into her dress. The photographer had already taken it from the bag earlier to photograph. Y/n stood staring up at the delicate material that glinted in the sunlight coming in the window. This was truly it. It was her wedding day, the day that she had given up on seeing a long time ago. If she thought about it too much, she was sure to ruin all the work that her crew had done on her face. 

“Y/n/n,” Gen called her from across the room. Y/n spun back to look at the ladies enjoying themselves. “I’ve been tasked with handing over something special to the bride.” 

Cheers came from the other women in the room, all eager to find out what exactly Jensen had decided to gift her with. Y/n watched as Gen pulled a decent-sized package out of the closet. It was wrapped in shining silver wrapping paper with a white bow wrapped around it. Her curiosity was piqued, seeing as the pair had not discussed a gift exchange, not that it had stopped her from purchasing a bespoke watch from a little shop in Detroit and having a message stitched into the leather strap. It was an easy choice seeing as her soon-to-be husband was obsessed with watches. The hard part was finding one he didn’t already own.

“This thing is huge,” she noted before quickly adding, “No one comment.” 

All the girls stifled their laughs, watching her as she tore into the paper without care. She tossed the paper to the side, taking in the black and white sound waves embossed on the white background. There was black script in the lower-left corner that read ‘in a world we could call our own’. 

“What’s the song?” Y/n didn’t recognize the lyric, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t heard the song before. 

“On the back,” Stella called from her seat across the room. Y/n flipped the frame over in her hands, noticing the small square taped to the back. Setting the frame on the chair next to her, she broke the seal on the paper envelope. Inside was a simple CD, but on the front was a short message in Jensen’s familiar script that read ‘and it all came down to you, can’t wait to see you at the altar - Jensen.’

“But I don’t—” Her words were hushed as Gen handed over a portable CD player with headphones attached. Y/n turned the gray plastic over in her hand, knowing it had to be Jensen’s idea for her to listen to the disk in this way. Frankly, she was shocked that he didn’t find a way to put in on an eight-track and have Gen hand over a Walkman. 

Y/n placed the disk in the player and put the headphones on before pressing play. The soft melody caught her attention immediately, her head bobbing gently along until Jensen’s voice filled her ears. 

Listened to yesterday

Long before the way it has become

And it all came down to you

I don't really know the way

Played out stranger than it seemed

But what went down came true

Like an all day dream

It seemed saving her makeup was now just a pipe dream. She could feel the tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes. Gen was quick to bring her a tissue and Y/n tried her best to blot up the wetness without ruining everything. 

Everybody was looking at her as the song came to an end and she pulled the headphones off her head. “He uh, he wrote me a song,”  Y/n explained to her waiting friends. The room fell into collective awe. 

“Okay, okay! Enough with my cheesy brother. You need to get in your dress like now and fix your makeup.” Mackenzie was laughing as she spoke, but Y/n caught the hint of water in her eyes as well. She was right, her brother was more than cheesy. It was something that she used to turn her nose up at, but somehow, he found a way to make it work that never seemed to fail. 

“Right,” Y/n agreed, standing up from her seat and heading behind the partition to get into her dress. Her mother and Gen helped her into the heavy material and worked up the buttons along her back. She noticed her mother was tearing up again, much as she had on the day Y/n had said ‘yes to the dress.’

“Mom, come on now, Dad is gonna be in here any minute and I can’t have both of you in tears. I’ve already cried enough as it is.” Truth be told, she had been barely keeping it together since she received Jensen’s gift, and her family was not helping. She just had to keep it together until she was at the altar. Just half an hour longer. 

****

Jensen finished fastening the watch around his wrist before turning it over and inspecting it once again. His bride had chosen well. It was unlike any other he had in his collection, but it suited him well, and of course, it matched his suit to a ‘T.’ He double-checked that the hands on the face were where they needed to be, the realization of the time hitting him in the gut. 

“Hey, man. You good?” Jared’s voice broke him from his reverie. He tugged down the sleeves of his suit, fidgeting inside the snug outfit. 

“Uh, I’m not sure how to answer that.” A nervous chuckle forced its way up his throat. Jared nodded at his friend. 

“Been there, buddy.” Jared clapped his large hand on Jensen’s shoulder, squeezing his fingertips into the navy material. “But before I give you wise words of encouragement, I have to do my brotherly duty.” 

“Duty?” Jensen murmured to himself as Jared cleared his throat.

“If you ever hurt my sister again, I will not be as forgiving. You’re here today because I trust you with her life and her heart. Don’t make me regret that.” Jared again squeezed Jensen’s shoulder for emphasis. 

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re funny, Jare.” But Jared’s expression had remained unchanged. “Oh, you’re serious… Dude, you’ve already punched me once. Trust me, I get the picture.” 

“Good, now that that’s settled, all you need to do is focus on Y/n. The rest of it will fall into place. You guys are crazy about each other, forget about all the rest.” Jared dropped his grip on his friend and straightened his boutonniere. 

“Thank you. I do love her, more than anything.” The groom smiled to himself as he watched the hands on the clock tick down. 

“Oh, and remember to take a second for just the two of you later. Go and experience things from afar.” 

Jensen nodded to himself, repeating Jared’s line back to himself. “Just the two of us.” 

“Alright, Jay. Shake it off, it’s time to go see your bride.” 

****

Gen was trying her best to keep Odette occupied as they waited to walk down the aisle. The group of bridesmaids, the bride and her father all were huddled in the corner of the wrap-around porch, waiting for the music to begin playing. 

Y/n had one arm already wrapped around her father’s, her bouquet in the other. Her lower lip was worried in her teeth as the music started from the band behind the altar. A jolt beside her had her snapping her head up to see her father smiling down at her. 

“How are you doing over there?” He asked as her bridesmaids began to disappear one by one. 

“I’ll be okay. Deep breaths, right?” 

“Deep breaths. Come on, someone is waiting for you.” Her dad tightened his grip on her as they began moving. The old wood of the manor creaked as they made their way across it and down the steps. Y/n refused to look up until her feet were on the fabric aisle put together by the wedding planners. When she did finally look up, her eyes cast over her friends and family standing to watch her, looking for the one pair of green eyes that could ground her. 

Jensen had to bite his tongue when his bride came around the corner, the lace she adorned more elegant than he had expected. Her hair fell in waves down her back and the light veil covered her face just enough to hide her blush from him, but it was when she looked up and lock eyes with him that everything else fell away. It was just like Jared had said, all that mattered at that moment was her and Jensen. Like that night back in Vancouver, when she smiled at him from her place in her father’s arms, his heart skipped a beat. It was that smile that did him in still to this day. 

Y/n watched as Jensen’s face broke out into the widest grin she’d ever seen. He clasped his hands together as he lost himself in her. His reaction had her feeling more light than she had ever felt. This was the moment people talk about twenty years down the road when they recount their wedding day. That ‘first look’ feeling was one she was going to remember for the rest of her life. 

“Gerald,” Jensen held out his hand to Y/n’s father, shaking it with a smile before Gerald turned back to his daughter and handed her over to her groom, but not before stealing a kiss to her cheek. 

Jensen slipped her arm under his and pulled her close to his side. “Wow, Y/n. Just… wow,” he whispered to her as their officiant began the ceremony. 

“You’re one to talk, handsome. That blue suit is killer,” she husked, faking a whistle below her breath. She paused for a second to glare at Jared clearing his throat when the crowd was asked if anyone objected to their marriage. She couldn’t be too mad at him though, considering the chuckles he got from the crowd. Jared was just being Jared. 

“So, in their decision to make my life a little easier, Jensen and Y/n have decided to write their own vows, which they will share with you now.” Their officiant waved her hand to them, the couple turning to now face each other. Y/n handed her bouquet off to her matron of honor, Gen, who exchanged it for her written vows, before turning back and taking Jensen’s free hand in her own. 

“Y/n, I don’t know if it’s stupid or cliche to start off with this, but I love you. I do, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being. I had all but given up on my chance to find someone and have a family, and then you came crashing into my life. It all came down to you, my all-day dream come true.”

“Y/n/n, you are a strong, beautiful, and bullheaded woman. You frustrate me, you challenge me and you make me a better man. I promise to love you forever, to carry you through the bad times and laugh with you in the good times. I promise to keep you safe in my arms no matter what life throws our way and to cherish every moment we have together. I promise forever.”

Jensen shoved his vows into his pocket as he finished, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight as he smiled down at her. For a moment, she let herself get lost in them until their officiant cleared her throat. The crowd chuckled as Y/n mumbled to herself to get a grip. 

“I struggled a lot to put my feelings down into words. This damned piece of paper stared at me for weeks just mocking my brain for its lack of focus. But I soon realized it wasn’t because I couldn’t find the words, it was because there are no words. Jay, you are indescribable. You are everything I didn’t know that I needed before I met you. You always know how to make me laugh, what words to say when I don’t feel beautiful, and how to pick me up from the ground when I’ve fallen to my knees.” 

“I vow to you to always be there when you need to speak and to share the silence when words aren’t needed. I vow to make sure you always smile from all my smart ass comments and to make sure you know how handsome you are. Most importantly, I vow to love you more and more with every passing day.” 

Y/n was barely keeping it together as the two of them exchanged their rings and ‘I do’s’. She had fully expected the tears to be present ever since the pair had discussed writing their vows, but she never expected him to literally take her heart in his hands and squeeze it. Her heart had never been so full than at this moment.

“I think that about does it then, eh? By the power invested in me by the state of Texas and in front of God and all your loved ones, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jensen,” The crowd laughed as their officiant tilted her head towards Y/n, raising her brow. The couple joined in as Jensen lifted her veil over her head and pulled her to his chest, her hands snaking around his waist and her fingers clutching onto his jacket. Their lips met in the middle, a grin on both their faces. After everything, they were finally here, right where they both wanted to be: with each other.

“Family and friends, I am delighted to present to you for the first time, as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Jensen Ackles!” 

Jensen pulled away from his wife before pecking her nose one last time. He took her hand in his own as Gen handed her back her bouquet. The pair of them ran back down the aisle as the band played “You Make My Dreams Come True” and their families cheered. As they reached the porch around the manor once again, the event coordinator of the hall guided them back inside to the study where the boys had gotten ready for the ceremony. 

The room was mostly cleared of the groomsmen’s items when they entered. For now, it was their place to have a second alone before they needed to begin taking photographs. Y/n set her bouquet down on one of the tables, her other hand still in Jensen’s. He tugged her into his side again, smiling down at her, his lips turned up on one side. 

“Hi, wife.” 

“Hi, husband,” Y/n parroted his sentiment back to him, a chuckle on her tongue. “Are you gonna be disgustingly cheesy now?”

“It’s my wedding day, I think I’m entitled,” he nodded.

“Hmm, well good. I love it.” 

“I knew it!” Jensen bit his lip as he caressed his fingers along her jaw. He ran his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes examining the expanse of her face.

“Jay,” Jensen raised his brow at her, signaling her to continue. “I love you. Thank you for marrying me.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He promised, lowering his lips to her own in a quick caress. 

****

It didn’t take long for the photographs to be finished, though it was boring work. Y/n assumed she probably shouldn’t feel that way, but her face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much. In the midst of it all, they’d signed their marriage license, so she guessed that made it all worth it. 

The day was flying by quicker than either of them expected. When people told her to pause and take in everything, she’d thought she’d prepared herself, but before she knew what was happening, they were seated at the sweetheart table across from the stage as Jared took the microphone for their before dinner toasts. 

Feedback reverberated across the makeshift stage and about the yard that was set up for their reception. Jared winced before clearing his throat. 

“Good evening, everybody, I’m Jared for all of you who don’t know. That beautiful woman over there is my baby sister and the handsome troll sitting next to her just happens to be my best friend, my brother from another mother. The two of them have come a long way since their first meeting, a day not unlike today. When Gen and I got hitched, I think they exchanged a total of five words that day. They were ships passing in the night then. It wasn’t until Y/n/n came to work with us on set that a series of events was set in motion that none of us expected. I won’t lie and say I was too happy when I first found out about their relationship, sorry Jensen,” Jared paused as the room chuckled, though outside of their immediate families, no one knew what he was talking about. “I know it took me a while to come around to the idea, but now that I’ve been able to watch the two of you grow together, and laugh together, and love each other, I realize I was being selfish. Y/n, there is no other man that I would trust more with your life and with your heart. I know that he’s always gonna be there to treat you right and pick you up when you’re down. I know this because I will find him if he doesn’t.” Jared waved off more laughs before continuing. “Alright, but in all honesty, I couldn’t be happier for the two of you and I can’t wait to watch you grow old together. I love you guys. To the Ackles!” 

Jared held up the champagne flute into the air before the room took a drink. Gen followed Jared as matron of honor and Josh brought up the rear as best man. All three of them were skilled at pulling out laughs and tears. Dinner was served just after and once the plates were finally cleared, the sun was nearly fully set below the horizon. 

The manor worked on bringing out the dessert table, a wide array of miniature pies, snickerdoodles, banana bread, pumpkin and sugar donuts, scones, a coffee bar, and lastly the wedding favors for their guests, a build-your-own candy apple bar. It was the perfect fall scene for their mid-November wedding. 

Y/n and Jensen made their way through the crowd, hugging family and friends and thanking them for joining them on their special day. A good crowd had formed on the dance floor, and it seemed that everyone was enjoying themselves. 

Miriam, Y/n’s great aunt on her father’s side, had pulled her into a long-winded conversation at her table. Y/n was perched in a seat across from her aunt, trying to stay invested in the conversation. To be honest, the bride wasn’t even sure what she was talking about anymore.

“Hey, Miriam.” Jensen’s voice broke her out of the little trance she had slipped into. He had a wide smile on his face as he knelt beside her aunt. “I know you ladies are having girl talk, but I was wondering if I could steal my wife for a minute?” 

“Oh!” Miriam exclaimed, a delighted smile on her face. Y/n watched, a grin on her face as she watched her husband charm her away from that table. “Of course! Silly me. She’s yours now, to do anything with you please.”

“Okay, Aunt Miriam,” Y/n stood and went to kiss her aunt on the cheek. Jensen took her hand and began to guide her away.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Her aunt’s exclamation had a blush creeping up on her neck, and Y/n had to cover her eyes with her hand. The whole time Jensen was just laughing beside her. 

Y/n was distracted by the small cheers from the people who heard her aunt that she didn’t notice her husband sneak a champagne bottle and a glass from a waiter on their way up to the house. She simply let him guide her up on the porch and over to a dimly lit corner that gave them a view of the entirety of their reception. 

“What are we doing?” She asked him as he handed her the flute. 

“We are taking a minute to ourselves, just to step back and soak up all that’s happened today,” Jensen explained as he filled the glass. 

“Ah,” Y/n let out a breath as she took a sip from the glass. She handed it over to her husband who copied her action. “Isn’t that what our first dance was for?” 

“Eh, everyone had their eyes on us then. This way, it’s just the two of us. We get to be on the outside looking in.” Jensen moved behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. His wife leaned into his embrace, enjoying the heat from his body as the night began to cool. 

The couple shared half a bottle of champagne as they watched their guests enjoy themselves. Most of the crowd was huddled on the dance floor, shaking away their worries for the time being. Those that were left were smuggling treats from the dessert table. 

It was an intriguing glimpse at a wedding from someone else’s perspective, and the couple was more than happy to just watch their loved ones enjoy themselves. After all, that’s what all a wedding was, a party, and people were supposed to have fun at parties; get rowdy and maybe a little drunk. The kids were carefree, shaking their butts to the melody that helped facilitate all the fun. 

Jensen glanced down at his watch to check the time before kissing the underside of her jaw. “We have to go get changed now,” he whispered to her. Y/n hummed in response, both of them not wanting to break the bubble that they had put themselves in on the porch, but alas, they had a plane to catch, and therefore needed to get out of their nice clothes.

The honeymoon suite that came with the rental of the manor was going to be used by Jared and Gen that night. Y/n and Jensen planned to leave her dress and his suit for them to take home. It worked best for them that they whisked away on their honeymoon right away. Overnight flights to Europe worked best when it came to kicking jet lag in the ass. 

So that was what they did. Jensen changed into jeans and a white tee and Y/n into leggings and a white tee. Out of all the stupid couple things people did on their wedding day, Y/n had opted for matching ‘going away’ outfits. 

The couple triple checked that they had everything they needed as Jared found his way to them. He helped Jensen pack the car with their belongings and before they knew it, they were being seen off by their loved ones, a whirlwind of sparklers lighting their path to the car. The couple hugged their parents goodbye before slipping into the black sedan.

As the car whizzed down the dirt path towards the airport, the crowd that was left meandered back to where the bartender was calling ‘last call.’ On the outskirts of the property, a figure stepped back into the tree line, the shadows hiding the stranger from view. The man dropped the butt of his cigarette into the pile building on the ground, crushing it into the leaves of the forest with the toe of his shoe before disappearing into the night. 

Part 1: The Conception

Forevers: @polina-93 @22sarah08 @callmekda @hobby27 @tranquility-or-chaos @dawnie1988 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan  @akshi8278 @superfanficnatural @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @winchest09 @katehuntington @flamencodiva @janicho88 @anathewierdo @ellewritesfix05 @mrsjenniferwinchester @jensengirl83 @lyarr24 @smol-and-grumpy

Continues: @traceyaudette @death-unbecomes-you @rebelemilu @colbyskoalas @ashleyrose0117 @zpandaqueen @stoneyggirl @parinarain @onethirstyunicorn @smoothdogsgirl @harryhook-lover @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @spnfamily-j2 

My Forever tags as well as for this series are open. Just shoot me an ask to be added. If your url is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag you

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 8

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The town comes together to help a family hit particularly bad by the tornado. A conversation with you helps Loki come to a decision. Chapter Warnings: a lot of mutual pining A/N: I’m really excited about this story now. There’s some great things coming up! Any predictions about where I’m going with this? I’d love to hear them! Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @parkastoria​ @lokistan​

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Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

You and your family had been pretty lucky in the aftermath of the tornado, but unfortunately the same could not be said for your neighbors. The family at the next farm over, the Campbells, whole barn had been blown away. Thankfully, they didn’t suffer any physical injuries, but the wound to their bank account had been decent. That’s why a bunch of people from town were pitching in to help them. In fact, they were preparing for a barn raising at the very minute, something Loki had never even imagined existed before. Actually, the whole idea of a close-knit community like this had never really occurred to him. When he was young, he wasn’t really allowed out into the streets of Asgard, and when he was old enough to decide that for himself, he’d lost his interest.

“You ready, son?” Papa asked, clapping Loki on the back.

“Indeed,” he replied, putting his hair in a low bun to keep it out of his face during the work. “Would it be odd if I said I was a little excited?”

“It is surprisingly fun,” John laughed. “But we’re actually supposed to be trying to talk you out this. You still need to take it easy. ‘Doctor’s orders.’”

He nodded in your direction where you were talking with your friends. Even though you seemed happy, you kept throwing little worried glances at Loki. The whole ordeal with tornado was nearly a week ago, but it seemed to have made you nervous for Loki’s health again. He would have thought that his agility and speed would have reassured you, but it actually did the opposite. You kept insisting that he may have re-injured something and not even noticed. You sent another nervous look his way, but your gaze lingered a little longer, noticing his hairstyle. Half the reason he ever wore it this way was because of how much you obviously liked it.

Mr. and Mrs. Campbell made a little speech thanking everyone for coming out, and then the work began. It was slow moving at first, what with having to get the main supports up soundly and all, but soon the pace picked up. By the time they were working on the roof, Loki could feel the energy of the mortals around him had dropped considerably. Being the god that he was, though, he was tireless enough to finish the barn on his own. Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone that, especially when Papa kept insisting he take a break.

All the girls, and a few guys too, were marveling over Loki’s uncanny strength. He was by no means the most ripped man there, but he was certainly the strongest. Everyone was impressed by just how much he could lift, and he delighted in the general shock the crowd had. And now that he’d shown just how strong he was, people had certainly started paying attention to his muscles, which were there, mind you, but just too lean to notice at first glance. He didn’t much care for any of those stares, though, unless they coming from you. Alas, you’d left a little while ago to help Ana with Matt. Now, however, you were coming back, and Loki redoubled his efforts to show off. Especially because it seemed that Denzel had the same idea. Loki couldn’t even think that man’s name without rolling his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to Loki and offering him some trail mix, a Midgardian snack he was surprisingly fond of. “I thought you might need some refreshments. Have you eaten anything all day?”

“Do not worry. I have been taking care of myself,” he replied, setting down a pile of wood. “Still, you have my thanks, darling.”

“No problem.” You looked down at your feet as you kicked a rock, building up the confidence to say your next sentence. “I, uh, I really like your hair like that, by the way. It looks good.”

Loki’s face took a crimson shade yet again, and he couldn’t help but smile. The effect you had on him always made him feel a wild mix of emotions. On the one hand, the reaction bothered him to no end. On the other, he was just used to it at his point.

“Is that so,” he said as if he hadn’t already figured it out. “Perhaps I should wear it this way more often then.”

“Oh! You don’t have to. I mean, of course you can if you want to. But I didn’t mean that you had to or anything. Wear it how you like it.” He smirked at your flustered babbling. “Ana, Matt! Can we have some of that water?”

He chuckled at how you had to call them over to save you from your embarrassment, something he found rather adorable. Now that he’d admitted his feelings to himself, he kept finding little things about you to obsess over. Today, it was apparently how cute you are when you’re nervous.

“You really should drink more, being out in the heat all day like this,” you told him, going back into doctor mode.

“What would I do without you,” he teased.

“Loki!” Matt cheered upon reaching him. “I wanna help build too!”

“Now, now Matt. What did mommy say?” Ana asked the boy.

“Mommy said no,” he replied with a little frown. “But Loki didn’t say no!”

“I am sorry, little one. You must listen to your mother,” Loki said, picking the child up. “One day when you are bigger and stronger you will get to help.”

“But will you still be here, Loki?”

The boy’s question gave him a pause. Would he still be there? Did he want to be? It was impossible to answer that first question, considering he couldn’t see the future. Plus, he was in constant danger of being found out and having to run. But that second question he knew the answer to. Something about this small town had charmed him, and being asked right now, he would say he never wanted to leave. He wondered if he would always feel that way, though. Looking into your eyes, he was pretty sure he would.

“I truly do not know, but I would very much like to be.”

“Yay!” Matt exclaimed, throwing his tiny arms around Loki.

Ana chuckled at the child’s excitement while you smiled warmly at Loki. Even though he’d already told you how he felt about this place, your eyes went wide at the fact he’d so boldly declare it to everyone. He only wished he could be so bold when it came to declaring his feelings for you.

Soon, he was back at work helping to build the barn. Unfortunately, John and Papa were up on the roof, and Loki knew very few other people there. So, when Denzel struck up a conversation with him, there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

“So,” Denzel said, “You been seeing a doctor about this memory loss of yours. ‘Cause, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned, but I’m a-”

“Doctor,” Loki cut him off, gritting his teeth. “Yes, I know. It has been mentioned. Several times. But what kind of doctor, may I ask?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’m a pediatrician.”

“I see. A noble profession, indeed. Though I am guessing you are not the best equipped to handle my amnesia, hmm?”

“No, I guess not. But I could definitely recommend someone.”

“I do appreciate it,” Loki confessed, though he suspected there were underlying reasons for Denzel’s concern. Namely, having Loki out of the way so he could get to you easier. “But everything is alright for now. I shall let you know if the situation changes.”

“Ok then.”

They lapsed into silence as they picked up more wood for construction, Denzel seeming a little shocked by just how much Loki was able to carry. Which definitely wasn’t even more than he had previously been taking just to intimidate the man.

“Hey, listen,” Denzel said while they helped work to make the walls, nodding in your direction. “Guy to guy, have they mentioned me at all?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact they have. I do not think you will like it, though.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well, I guess that just means I’ve gotta work twice as hard to show them how serious I am about wanting them back.”

“Yes, I do suppose- Wait! No,” Loki said, not having expected that to be his answer. “I do not think that is in your best interest.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure you don’t think it’s in your best interest?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“So then you’re fine with me asking them out?”

“Only if you are fine with being rejected.”

They stood glaring at each other until they were able to move to work on separate sections. Loki was desperately trying to not feel so jealous and anxious. After all, you’d explicitly said that you did not want to be with Denzel, but there was still that little bit of uncertainty. Perhaps you’d changed your mind and decided to give him a second chance.

“You alright there, son?” Papa asked, coming down from the roof.

“You better not pass out,” John added, following close behind. “You know we’re going to be the ones who get in trouble if you do.”

“I assure you, I am fine,” Loki replied, trying not to sound too sad. He was failing. “You need not worry.”

“Oh, I bet I know what this is about. I saw you talking with Denzel.”

“No, nope,” Loki shushed, putting up a finger. “Go no further, please.”

“Ok, fine, whatever you say. Just thought you might want to know that the Campbell’s are planning a little thank you party tonight. It would be the perfect chance to tell a certain someone how you feel.”

“Reckon you ever went to a barn dance in your past life?” Papa asked.

Loki’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He’d never heard of anything like it on Asgard, though he could fathom what it was due to the rather self-explanatory name. It was a thrilling prospect to go to it, considering he’d only ever been to uptight, boring balls. As a child, he’d stir up some mischief to make things more interesting, but he’d always get a serious scolding from his father. Not to mention Thor was the center of attention more often than not.

“I do not believe I would have, though I am looking forward to the opportunity now,” Loki shared as they set back work again.

The rest of the day went much the same, and though he didn’t get to spend as much time with you as he would have liked, Loki had quite a bit of fun with John and Papa. His attachment to you all was rather dangerous, as was the fact that he cared it was. At least he was able to mask his emotions, much like he was so adept at doing before this whole ordeal.

By dinnertime, the barn was completed and only a select few remained to help set up for the party. Your family, however, went the short distance back home to freshen up after helping out all day. Well, Matt didn’t help much. Instead he just romped and played, though it could be argued he helped by brightening everyone’s day. Regardless, after changing your clothes you were all ready to set out again. Loki did a double take as he walked out onto the porch; you looked more beautiful than ever before. He always thought you looked amazing, but standing there in the fading light of day, it struck him anew.

“You know, Loki,” John said, putting his hands on the god’s shoulders and speaking low enough that you couldn’t hear him. “A friendly word of advice, you should just go for it.”

“But-”

“No more ‘buts’ mister,” Ana reprimanded as she walked up and passed her son to her husband. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but you two need to stop being oblivious dorks and make a move already. No offense.”

“None taken, I suppose,” he said, though it wasn’t wholly true. Him an oblivious dork? Nonsense, not the God of Mischief. “Though I still must insist that I do not know to what any of you are referring. Hypothetically, if I did, do you really believe I have a chance?”

“Yes. And a very good one at that.”

They left Loki mull over his thoughts. When they passed you, you finally turned around and saw Loki standing there, his now loose hair slightly wavy from having been up all day. He was frozen like stone under your tender gaze, afraid of his emotions and unable to take what Ana and John had said to heart. It wasn’t until your smile faltered a little at his expressionless trance that he was able to move out of the doorway.

“My darling, I hope you know how radiant you look this evening,” he told you, a light blush coating his cheeks, still so pale even after so many days out in the sun.

“It’s nothing special, really,” you said with a nervous laugh. “But thank you all the same.”

“My pleasure.”

His fingers brushed against yours and on instinct you intertwined them. He brought your hand to his mouth, lips ghosting over your knuckles, reminding him of that day when he apologized to you. He’d performed the same action back then. With time and perspective, he realized that was the day he was pushed completely off the edge and into love with you. You took a step closer, your bodies nearly pressed against each other. The warmth radiating off of you gave the frost giant a pause, your hands still clasped together, now semi-awkwardly hovering near his head.

“Hey Loki,” you began as he quirked an eyebrow to urge you on. You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and leaning in. “I... I... I-”

“I suppose we should be on our way now,” Mama announced, coming out of the house.

You sheepishly broke apart and agreed with her, your small group heading over to your neighbor’s. Upon arrival, Loki noted how it was even more lively than earlier, which was really saying something. It seemed that everyone who came by during the day to help with the build was back now, and the whole place was a hubbub of activity. Your friends were quick to whisk you away into the thick of it, and seeing as how everyone else had left before you, Loki was now left alone with Mama.

“You can go if you want,” she said. “I’m not much for crowds.”

“I must confess, I am not either.”

“I see.”

Despite having come to some kind of agreement, the air between them was still tense. The past week had been filled with a lot of throat clearing and stiff conversation. Somehow, he preferred the snippy and snide remarks from the woman. They were, at least, a lot less gawky than what their interactions were now. Thankfully, they were saved from the stilted small talk by food. As it turned out, they were both quite a fan of apple pie, and Mrs. Campbell made a mighty good one.

Eventually, Papa sought them out in the crowd and did a bit of a double take to see them amicably chatting. He ushered them inside to where you and the rest of your family were standing just as the dancing was about to begin.

“Pardon me, darlin’,” Denzel said, tapping you on the shoulder. He bowed down a little and put out his hand as Loki rolled his eyes. “May I have this dance?”

“Oh! I would love to, really, but I already promised Loki,” you said turning to him. “Shall we then?”

“We shall,” Loki replied, beaming.

Of course, the two of you had not planned on dancing together, but he was preening under the lie you’d told to your ex. The fact that you chose him completely unprompted made his heart grow wings and soar above the clouds. As for the dance, it was easy enough to follow the caller’s directions. This was the first time Loki had ever danced so causally, but his nimble feet, which were much more accustomed to waltzes and other Asgardian dances, were able to catch on rather quickly. It didn’t take him long to determine the square dance was his favorite one of the night.

After a couple more hours of dancing and avoiding Denzel, you and Loki snuck off, not before making a quick stop to thank your hosts, of course. The two of you went to your own family’s barn and climbed up to the loft, settling down in the plushy blankets and pillows you kept up there for chilly nights such as this. The conversation stayed light for a while, but it inevitably took a turn toward more serious topics.

“I was asking around today,” you said. “I’m so sorry, Loki, but no one had any clue who you were.”

“It is ok, do not concern yourself with this. If I did not know any better, I would say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m really not, I swear,” you said, chewing your bottom lip, though Loki had been fully teasing. “No one is anymore, really.”

“Are you sure about that?” he inquired, thinking of Denzel.

“Why did someone say something to you?”

“No. It is like I said, do not worry.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you snuggled further into his side, desperate to keep the cold away. He put his arms around you and squeezed you tighter, saying a little heating enchantment in his head.

“You know, I think James would’ve liked you,” you decided, eyelids beginning to droop.

“Perhaps. But...”

“Yes?”

“But there is still so much we do not know about me. What if have done something terrible?”

“While I’m sure you haven’t, let’s say you did do something you’re not proud of,” you indulged him. “The only thing stopping us from having a present we can enjoy and a future we can love, is a past we can’t forget.”

“Well, I do not remember, anyway. But what if it is really bad?”

“All I mean is, you have to be able to forgive. To let go.”

He could hear in your tone that you were thinking of your brother. As much as he did not want to admit it, Loki would have been upset had Thor died. He could only imagine the pain you felt when you’d heard the news. But he supposed you were able to forgive whoever it was whose irresponsibility had led to James’s death. It was yet another thing to admire about you, for sure.

“I suppose you are right.”

“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, finally letting your tired head drop and nuzzling into his shoulder.

He brought you down to a more comfortable position, laying down with your head on his chest, letting his heart beat wildly in your ear. Lying awake, he thought back to what he’d said earlier about wanting to stay forever. Lingering in the back of his mind was always the knowledge that he most likely would not be able to. If he were, though, would he still want to? A large part of himself still wanted to loathe the domestic simplicity of this life. In a way, being so far removed from everything, living high up in palace towers, was easier. Still, he could not find it in himself to dislike this quaint town with charming people. Plus, there was you.

The little sigh of contentment that you made as he hugged you closer let him completely make up his mind. This was where he wanted to stay, this is what he wanted, and he’d do everything he could to make sure he got to keep it.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well.”

[mediaevalmusereads]

Matrix. By Lauren Groff. New York: Riverhead Books, 2021.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Cast out of the royal court by Eleanor of Aquitaine, deemed too coarse and rough-hewn for marriage or courtly life, seventeen-year-old Marie de France is sent to England to be the new prioress of an impoverished abbey, its nuns on the brink of starvation and beset by disease. At first taken aback by the severity of her new life, Marie finds focus and love in collective life with her singular and mercurial sisters. In this crucible, Marie steadily supplants her desire for family, for her homeland, for the passions of her youth with something new to her: devotion to her sisters, and a conviction in her own divine visions. Marie, born the last in a long line of women warriors and crusaders, is determined to chart a bold new course for the women she now leads and protects. But in a world that is shifting and corroding in frightening ways, one that can never reconcile itself with her existence, will the sheer force of Marie's vision be bulwark enough? Equally alive to the sacred and the profane, Matrix gathers currents of violence, sensuality, and religious ecstasy in a mesmerizing portrait of consuming passion, aberrant faith, and a woman that history moves both through and around. Lauren Groff's new novel, her first since Fates and Furies, is a defiant and timely exploration of the raw power of female creativity in a corrupted world.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: blood, violence, gore, childbirth, threats of rape

Overview: As a medievalist, I’m admittedly a little picky when it comes to my historical fiction set in the Middle Ages, but because this book was about Marie de France, I decided to give it a go. While I do think that Groff is a talented writer, I ultimately felt let down by Matrix; when I think about Marie de France, I think of her lais and the magic she weaves into them (not literal magic, mind you, but things like the power of women, courtly love, lush atmosphere, etc). This book, by contrast, contained very few of the themes that make Marie’s work so memorable, to the point where the less you know about the real Marie de France, the better. Instead of exploring the mind of the woman who wrote such wonderful, magical tales, we get the story of a nun who brings an impoverished abbey to prosperity. It’s a fine story, don’t get me wrong - it’s just not one I’d associate with Marie de France. Honestly, I think Groff would have had more success writing about her own original character, taking inspiration from mystics like Julian of Norwich or Margery Kempe. Thus, this book only gets 3 stars from me.

Writing: Groff’s prose is beautifully crafted with evocative imagery that is also easy to read. Everything flows well and moves at a quick pace, so readers won’t feel bogged down by details such as the day-to-day work at the abbey or some such. This book also uses present tense to narrate the story, and while I’m not usually a fan of the present tense, I think Groff made it work. The narrative feels energetic and grounded, and I think it combined well with the technique of using run-on sentences from time to time to convey the feeling of being caught up in the moment or lost in thought.

Plot: The plot of this book mainly follows Marie de France as she is yanked from her life at the French court and placed in charged of a poor English abbey. We follow Marie as she rises through the ranks and brings the abbey to prosperity, all while wrangling unruly nuns and doing her best to convince Eleanor of Aquitaine to come for a visit.

I think I would have enjoyed this plot more if the protagonist were someone other than Marie de France. As I said in my intro, the story isn’t an exploration of the inner workings of the mind of a (female) medieval poet; rather, it’s a story about a woman obsessed with her own power and reputation within the Church. The lais themselves get only about 3 pages of mention, and it felt like none of the themes that we associate with Marie’s real-life lais made it into this novel. While I did appreciate the little nods to history here and there (for example, the description of one of the nuns sticking a paintbrush in her mouth and getting lapis lazuli in her teeth), there wasn’t enough in this book to made the story feel fresh or new. Perhaps Groff was working with the theory that Marie de France was Marie, Abbess of Shaftesbury, but even so, the lack of attention to the lais and how they’d complicate our expectations or assumptions about the life of a medieval nun was baffling to me. Personally, I think Groff would have had more success if the book was “about” Marie, Abbess of Shaftesbury, or about an original character, inspired by female mystics such as Julian of Norwich or Margery Kempe.

I also wasn’t enthusiastic about the way Groff chooses to present her “feminist utopia” of an abbey staffed with only women. Despite the desire for Marie to protect her nuns from male violence and power, not much work is put into describing the abbey as a haven. Instead, Marie imposes her own will onto others and replicates the power hierarchies that she is (supposedly) so desperate to escape. I think I would have liked this book better if the author could have looked for the ways in which abbey life could have been a solace to the women. For example, maybe the daily routine provides comfort for those struggling with the chaos of the outside world. Maybe the queer nuns finally find a place that feels safe for them to express their affection for other women. Anything that complicated our modern assumptions about medieval Christianity would have been welcome; instead, I felt like I got a lot of “barbaric Middle Ages.”

I guess I’m being harsh in that Marie explicitly says that she thinks women are only safeguarded by their reputations. Thus, all of her actions are in service to cultivating a particular image of herself and the abbey (imposing, impregnable, protected by magic, etc). I think this could have been more satisfying for me if A.) again, we weren’t reading a story about “Marie de France,” or B.) the novel was very self-conscious about the fact that Marie was manipulating the perspectives of others.

Characters: Marie, our main protagonist, is confusing and difficult to like. Originally, she’s too cool for school; she arrives at the abbey more than a little skeptical of Christianity, and she judges the other nuns around her rather harshly (even though some deserve it, but still - there was this “not like other girls” vibe that I didn’t like). The novel tells us that she was a child crusader, which seems odd for one not invested in Christianity, and then never really does anything with that except use it to instill fear in people who are uncomfortable with her “imposing” demeanor. After a few years, Marie becomes devout to the point where she’s having divine visions, like e medieval mystic. The switch felt fairly abrupt, and Marie’s ruthless pursuit of power and prosperity was admittedly a little tired at times. The only things I liked about her were her queerness and obsession with Eleanor of Aquitaine. Queerness is fairly commonplace, which is refreshing; even though Marie struggles with the idea of whether it is a sin or not to have carnal desires for other women, I did appreciate that wlw relationships were everywhere within the abbey, not just between Marie and a single other nun. Marie’s obsession with Eleanor was also interesting in that it bordered on erotic obsession and made manifest the pains unreciprocated love, mirroring courtly love in real medieval literature. I liked how Marie strove to please Eleanor in everything that she did, and loving the Queen from a distance put an interesting spin on courtly love between two women.

Eleanor, for her part, was intriguing because she was something of a mystery. We mainly saw her though Marie’s eyes, which meant that she was held up as a paragon - of beauty, of intelligence, of courage, etc. When we do finally see Eleanor in the flesh (so to speak), she doesn’t quite live up to Marie’s hype, and I liked the conflict between reality and the lover’s image of the beloved.

Most other characters blurred together for me. There are many nuns at the abbey, and most of them have quirks or jobs that make them unique. In that respect, I liked how Groff made each nun feel like an individual, and that they all came together to form a community. What I didn’t really like, however, was how they always seemed to be in conflict. Aside from a couple characters, it didn’t seem like any of the women had any close relationships; rather, I felt like the women were frequently in conflict or at least consistently incompatible in some way or another. If Groff really wanted to paint the abbey as some kind of haven or utopia, I think having more of the nuns find emotional intimacy with one another would have gone a long way. Even if some of the women didn’t get along, I would have liked to see more positive relationships rather than negative or impersonal ones.

TL;DR: Matrix is ultimately a compelling novel about running an abbey, but a poor imagining of real-life poet Marie de France. While there is much to admire about Groff’s prose and the book would have been a fine work of historical fiction if written about, say, the Abbess of Shaftesbury, the narrative is unfulfilling for those who are familiar with the lais of Marie de France, primarily because none of the core themes from the medieval poems play major roles in Groff’s novel.