#swynlake

[castawaymydoubt]

Chance encounter | Open

“How hard can it be to find a teacher in battle magic?” He frowned, slowly heading back to the university. Running a hand through his hair, Riku contemplated what to do and not hurt his mother’s feelings. Also, could he just pull his phone out and do a search? How the hell did these things work? Again, he was hit with how different this place was from the Islands…course things had been simpler for him before he awakened.

the young man had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he missed the person walking towards him, in a chance or accident he collided with the other. Stumbling, he righted himself to look up confused. “Sorry, I guess I missed you there.”

[simba-bonfamille-lyons]

soooo -- i was going to post this playlist when i closed simba, and have been sitting on it for like many many months, adding to it slowly and curating it. but, i realized, it actually fits the task. at least, i think so, because this playlist is my little love letter to swynlake. or, simba's swynlake--which has been a character in his story from the very beginning. she has been, at times, a cruel mistress, but also a guiding light for simba, something for him to orient his compass to.

though, it is a character in all our stories. we all very much love this little magical town. so, this is dedicated to everyone and to swynlake, the arguably, most important character in the RP.

see below for analysis on all the songs bc i have meditated deeply on all of them.

Here I Am - Bryan Adams

Here I am, this is me / I come into this world so wild and free / Here I am, so young and strong / Right here in the place where I belong

Felt right to start this with Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, which is a movie all about home. Protecting it, caring for it, etc. It is a meditation on colonization, environmental conservation, nature, exploitation, and rebellion. Which feels very fitting, as those are the stories many of us take on in the undertones of our characters. And something that Swynlake deals with on a semi-regular basis. Especially since this is Swynlake from Simba's perspective, it also speaks to having been born right here in Swynlake, which is not a thing many people can claim. <3

Gold - The Lone Bellow

It's in my blood, it's in the water / It's calling me still / I could leave, I know I oughta / But there's gold in them hills

There is so many songs about small towns: loving small towns, hating small towns, wanting to leave small towns, returning to small towns...I can think of like five right off the top of my head. (Fast Car, anyone?) But I love this song because it talks about the tug-of-war that one feels to their hometown. Which is something Simba feels. He knows he'll always settle in Swynlake, but he wants to have a life outside of it. The line that really sold me on this song is in the title--so it's kind of the whole concept of the song: "there's gold in them hills." Maybe this is just a simple small town to some, but to others, it is so, so special and it calls to you. <3

BIGGER - Beyonce

Forgiveness is key because we're fightin' something way bigger / You'll never lose, we are winners / I'll be the roots, you be the tree / Pass on the fruit that was given to me / Legacy, ah, we're part of something way bigger

It also felt very appropriate to include a song from Beyonce's Lion King concept album. (Which is nothing but straight bangers and you should listen to it.) But, since Simba's story (and the Lion King) is heavily tied up in Swynlake, I thought this would be a good song to include. Since it is all about legacies and being bigger than yourself. Which is something all of our characters are in Swynlake. Everyone is the main character! Swynlake helps them shine. <3

An Act of Kindness - Bastille

Kindness / Is what you showed to me / It holds me 'till I ache / Overflow and start to break / Oh I, got a feeling this will shake me down / Oh, I'm kind of hoping this will turn me round / And now it follows me every day

This is moving in to phase two of the playlist, which is how Swynlake treats its residents. This song, of course, is about all the little acts of kindness that can turn things around for someone. Very Jean Valjean in the beginning of Les Mis vibes. Lots of people come to Swynlake seeking some sort of salvation or shelter and they are met with the (mostly) wonderful citizens of Swynlake who become their friends and family and help them grow. <3

Heaven Go Easy on Me - The Head and the Heart

It's damn good to have met you / I hope that you stay / We're well on our way

I think this one says very similar things to the last song. It is about going through life and the people you meet, and the things that life throws at you. (In this metaphor, Swynlake is heaven, and you are asking her to go easy on you lmao.)

Pay No Rent - Delta Rae

When my time comes, think of the living / Be good to your neighbor, and ask for forgiveness / I won't be there to share in the struggle / Can't get much deeper with axes and shovels / And if I don't see ya, know that I loved ya / I won't pay no rent / For the land that I'm under / I won't feel any pain / I won't know any hunger

This song is one of those ones that I feel deep down in my soul and it just makes me want to WEEP. It is about dying, of course, but also the things you leave behind and how peaceful things are. The first time I heard it, it also reminded me of this Arabic proverb that I love: "Come live in my heart and pay no rent." Which, even though Delta Rae is a Christian band...I wonder if there is a similar saying/they got inspiration from it anyway. IDK -- I just love this idea of Swynlake taking care of you, even after you've passed on...

Watch Over Us - The Lone Bellow

I don't need no crown / I don't need no glory / You've had your life / But that ain't my story / Sometimes I'm up / Sometimes I'm down / Sometimes I'm almost / Leveled to the ground / But my baby's sleeping / Sleeping in peace / So watch over us

...Which leads perfectly into my next song. I have always loved this song because it has a very...ancestor vibe. (Even though The Lone Bellow is also a Christian band. (Listen, sometimes the Christian folk music just be hitting and I like to appropriate it.) It is a little bit of a sadder song (the back half definitely are more sad because I am thinking about Simba leaving this place that he loves so much...)

Take Off Your Shoes - Delta Rae

Did you ever wonder / What's underneath / Ghosts in every floorboard / That'll touch your feet / When we lose the past / The future's nothing new / When you come to my house / Take off your shoes

This song is actually the first one that I put on the playlist, because it just immediately said "Swynlake" to me when it first came out. (Yeah, I originally added it in Dec of 2022, I told you, I've had this playlist for a long ass time. It's been making me weep all this time.) Anyway, I wanted to add a song that was kind of ooky-spooky, because a playlist about Swynlake wouldn't be complete without a little bit of foreboding, because as loving as Swynlake is, we all know she is also a cruel mistress.

Like a River Runs - Bleachers

When I fall asleep I can see your face / What I lost in you I will not replace / And I could run away, I could let them down / But I will remember your light

This is another one of those kind of more ooky-spooky Swynlake songs. Or, at least, that's how it feels to me. I think this song speaks to the amount of tragic backstories ™️that are in Swynlake. Everyone who is haunted ~~ by their pasts but comes to Swynlake to finally outrun those ghosts. <3

Laughter Lines - Bastille

I'll see you in the future when we're older / And we are full of stories to be told. / Cross my heart and hope to die, / I'll see you with your laughter lines.

I think this song is in nice conversation with the last song. It is also the song I thought about deleting several times, because I feel like it is the most "predictable" to be on this list. BUT -- I just couldn't because it feels overdone and predictable for a reason. This song makes me want to stab myself in the heart!!!! This is the beginning of the end "act" of the playlist: which is Simba talking about how Swynlake will always be where he comes back to. He is leaving, yes, but not forever. <3

Home - Dotan

The sound of the wind is whispering in your head / Can you feel it coming back? / Through the warmth, through the cold, keep running till we're there / We're coming home now, we're coming home now

Another song that kind of borders onto "ooky-spooky" vibes. It is almost haunting in its chorus. It is another song, of course, of returning home. Back to the place that you have left but which is still tangled up inside of you and you can't let it go.

Everywhere, Everything - Noah Kahan, Gracie Abrams

Drive slowly, I know every route in this county / Maybe that ain't such a bad thing / I'll tell you where not to speed / It's been a long year and all of our book's pages dog-eared / We write out the ends on our palms, dear / Then forget to read

We didn't know that the sun was collapsing / 'Til the seas rose and the buildings came crashing / We cried, "Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh" /Everywhere, everything / I wanna love you 'til we're food for the worms to eat / 'Til our fingers decompose / Keep my hand in yours

The first time I heard this song, it made me cry. Maybe I was feeling particularly homesick that day but again: this song speaks to that young person in you who has a place that you spent most of your childhood. Where you know all the streets and all the haunts. And now that you're older, you appreciate that place for what it made of you and you want to show it to the people you love. <3

I Will Always Return - Bryan Adams

I've seen every sunset / And with all that I've learned / It's to you I will always, always return...

And I'm a crying disaster. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[amelia-o-gabble]

ROGUE WEREWOLF ATTACKS LOCAL!

by Amelia Gabble

[tw assault, gun mention]

@biceps--to-spare @chiefhugo-slade

On the 19th of August, Swynlake had its first werewolf attack since late 2020. The local boy that was attacked four years ago unfortunately succumbed to his wounds on Christmas Eve that year. 

Luckily for the victim of this recent attack, he was admitted to Swynlake General with only scrapes and bruises. Gaston D’Avenant, 35, owner of The Hunted Deer, was walking through Enchantra when a “large, dark coloured werewolf” attacked him. Swynlake’s gamekeeper, Hugo Slade, 32, recounts that the wolf “had Gaston pinned to the ground and fighting for his life. [Slade] fired a warning shot into the sky. It was the only thing to break the beast's concentration.”

When asked for their thoughts on the encounter, both parties responded with precautionary sentiments. D’Avenant emphatically states, “I’ve been walking in these woods since I was a child--during the day and at dusk. It has never been an issue before. But now, no one can feel safe. I am an experienced woodsman and I was taken off guard. Imagine if I had been a tourist or a woman!" Adding, “If Chief here hadn't come along, I could've been turned or killed!"

Gamekeeper Slade informed the Squire that he would be getting Mayor Acheron’s office to set up more warnings about the dangers of Enchantra on the trailheads for tourists and locals alike. He warns trailgoers, “This was an unprovoked attack,” and “This is not an isolated incident… werewolves are motive driven.” Slade did not elaborate on if a motive for the unprovoked attack was identified or being looked into by Swynlake Sheriff’s Dept. at this time. 

Despite Swynlake’s history of a pro-Magick approach, incidents like this create strife amongst the community and the Magicks involved. While we have many out werewolves in our community, the actions of the few are often blamed on the many. "This is proof most werewolves cannot control themselves or live in polite society. They are a danger to our town and livelihoods that depend on tourism," victim D’Avenant believes. 

The only werewolf believed to be tied to the attack at this time is a large, dark coloured wolf. If you have any information about this individual, please contact the Swynlake Sheriff’s Dept. as soon as possible. Gamekeeper Slade reminds all that more information about outdoor safety and respecting Enchantra’s inhabitants is available on town halls’ website.

[zerohallows]

Quiet Places || Zero

Synopsis: Not the usual ghost story.

Zero meets someone among the gravestones.

Sometimes what we want, truly, is to be haunted.

CW: ghosts, mentions of death and mourning practices, child ghosts, reference to animal death, insects

He wasn't, contrary to what people who didn't know him very well assumed, automatically drawn to hollow places, to resting spots, little corners hidden away where people went to, hopefully, not be misplaced.

He'd always mindfully sought them out rather than only being pulled along.

And of all of the places that he had learned people built their monuments and wrapped up their loss in flowers and silent moments, graveyards felt very much like the rest. Special, but only equally as much as the other ceremonies, practices and places the living found comfort over the dead.

Different forms of course, he had learned; there had been months where he had spent hours and hours tucked away in libraries, searching through pages about all the sorts of different ways that people mourned.

Not because he felt he needed to cultivate some familiar kinship with death, truth be told he'd felt more frustration with it in those days than anything else, but because he had a friend, once.

Illness had declared that the world, and himself, wouldn't be allowed to keep her very long. And it was unfathomable to leave her trying to make decisions that seemed incredibly cruel at sixteen, because there was no one else who would help make them for her. Immortality was not, he discovered, the right of youth, even though he still sometimes felt it should have been.

So Zero had learned a great deal about mourning before even experiencing his own for the first time, as an overwhelming effort to help her feel just a little bit better about the things after, the things left behind.

Although searching for a way to convince your best friend the ideas that fell to funerals and ceremonies would somehow be the sort of close to a chapter she wasn't finished writing for herself was awfully hard at sixteen yourself.

So he visited places, still, because he couldn't visit the one where Cece rested anymore since she didn't rest anywhere. She had wanted to be free, wanted to be part of everything, and thankfully humans had customs for that as well and he supposed, even if the notion was for his own comfort, her ashes were still out somewhere chasing sunsets in new places life had never granted her time to see.

It's where fairies go, he'd told her once, to everything, in the end. She wanted the same, to meet again, although he's still not sure if he told some lie, even a kind one, in agreeing perhaps they would.

He doesn't know, really, if humans are made of the sort of stuff that allows for it.

But he hoped then, still did.

It wasn't why he had come to the graveyard that evening though, he'd come because the month was special to him and nearly spent, he liked the quiet, he liked the names on stones he would never know them stories of.

Zero liked feeling connected to what was, sometimes more than he wanted to know what lay ahead. He coveted the somber stone crumbling with time and the mossy burst of life that carpeted them in a silent cry of victory.

Zero found a certain lovely awe in that, a bittersweet poetry.

A wordless shout, the most patient cry he liked to think he could hear, without hearing; I rest here but look, just look at how life grows from my very memory.

See how important my place in this world is while from my very self the leaves curl and the grasses grow and I, truly, am eternal.

If he could only ever learn once he wanted to learn enough.

If being everything is where it ends I would like, he'd thought often, to be just myself for now and look at those names as who they once were too.

Zero rarely felt alone, even drifting amid the stones, the bending branches above and the ground below that he could feel in the core of his being alive with the toss and turn of change in endless motion.

But he was surprised not to have been truly alone that evening as he wandered the graveyard, watching the creeping growth of vines and greenery merge with the headstones, and a flicker of motion among them as his fingertips brushed a few headstones in passing.

It was quite small, no more than a dart, a notion, something barely out of the corner of his eye because for all his connection to the way the world fell apart in time Zero couldn't see human ghosts. At least not the ones who didn't want to make themselves seen.

It that hardly mattered, didn't keep him from pausing and trying to decipher what he finally made out to be the faintest outline of a child standing watchful, as he guessed she may have stood for far longer than any restless soul should have.

"Hello," he had called out carefully, satisfied that the hint of a person didn't suddenly flicker away. Perhaps she, he wasn't certain why the sense of it was there when he could not see her but he felt it clearly enough, was lonely, or curious. He didn't always understand how he knew the things he knew.

Which led him to a comfortable spot to sink down to the welcoming earth where he felt the twisting, curling, timeless growth and fade of infinite tiny lives most never knew of; scurrying, tunneling insects and burrowing creatures who lived and then did not, giving birth to the soil that held tight the roots of the giant above them with its branches turned skyward. He always felt it, always welcomed it, a familiar comfort as he studied the evening's dying light for another glimpse.

Zero continued speaking as though she could answer, knowing she could not.

"I can't see you," and his tone was laced with a bit of regret over that, "but I know you're there. And if you don't mind me staying for a while I was going to spend some time here too."

The breeze was all that met his words but he thought, perhaps, he heard a tiny giggle hidden away in it.

And that was how it had gone, every few nights he returned, because he always felt a bit nostalgic in October and the small motions that gradually became echoing little footsteps and playful rolling of his pencils just out of reach while he drew reminded him of something he couldn't quite place but enjoyed immensely.

"You want to see?" He'd asked once, looking up from the sketchbook in his lap as a tiny twinge of cool air graced his arm and just at the very corner of his eye a figure hinted that someone was there.

She might have been peering over his shoulder, but he knew if he turned his gaze to her she'd disappear into that not quite a place where human ghosts lingered.

The edges of the paper fluttered up, he had come to understand was a gesture of her approval over his work. The image of one of the older gravestones and the flowers that had begun to grow up through the cracks and worn places to decorate its surface in a flourish lay scrawled in sketchy lines there; another marker the peaceful place held.

He wished he knew where she had been meant to rest, where she came from, where she was going.

But he didn't know those things. He didn't know who had remembered her, or if any were left to do so.

That was the only troubling part of mortality to Zero; in its fragile cradle it held so much memory.

He had always entertained a very certain opinion on that, a mantra of let me outlive all those I know.

Not because he was afraid of his own end.

Let me outlast them so I'm not the sadness they feel one day.

No goodbye, no matter how long or how short a time it took to arrive, ever felt as if it came exactly on time and always showed up too swiftly.

"My birthday is very soon," he had mentioned as much before during those one-sided conversations, each time he did the grass stirred and he saw the shift and sway of that almost-shadow of a very small person.

"I'm sorry I don't know when yours is, but you can share mine. I have a present to bring you next time I visit."

The rustle and sway of grass caught his attention, a quiet laugh reaching his lips with it and the excitement he could tell marked the flurry of unseen motion around him.

Children were children, after all, no matter what world they were a part of.

It was a few days more before he returned, the chill in the night air pleasant and his footsteps nearly soundless on the stones, knowing she would find him far sooner than he might have her. With the bending of tall grasses and a gentle sound that might have been a sing-song whisper.

Ghosts did not often forget things, he supposed.

The month had dipped late, drawing closer and closer to its end and that lovely, magical time when the restless souls could reach just a little further into the places they had once dwelt. Zero enjoyed it, the graveyards were inviting when he could feel that subtle hint of energy in the air.

He waited for the impatient little brush of cool air past himself, the stir of echo excitement that blurred around him.

What was it like to have a birthday again after having others forgotten? He wondered, he hoped it hadn't been too many. He wished there was a stone she could have led him to among the others, but she never had. She didn't seem to know herself, if he had to guess by the way the wind wove restlessly through the stones each evening.

So he made due with what he could.

"I promised you a present, didn't I?" He uttered, unclasping his bag to reach into it and remove an unassuming object, small enough to tuck into the palm of his hand as he made his way over to the place he often sat in the nestled spot at the base of the weathered old tree that stood guard over soft, lost souls.

Zero could not see human ghosts, but that didn't mean he was fully detached from the spectral side of things. The ghosts he saw were the lingering presence of other creatures, those bound to places by their remains, far too easily forgotten, too often cut short and unwilling to move on simply because they thought it made no difference if they carried on in flesh and blood or wisps of awareness.

He had a resounding sympathy for them, the Geist, the creatures who flew or crawled or roamed wild places and existed as nature did without connection anymore to the physical; the misplaced animal souls. Because he certainly couldn't imagine what had ever led people to believe that just because they lacked human souls meant any other being had no soul at all.

Fairies did not have human souls either, but he'd always assumed that a soul was only the tie one had to how they reached whatever lay next.

It didn't trouble him.

The breeze drifted, somewhere the not-being and the gray between a little girl lost watched him reach just high enough to work the fragment of bone into the trunk, his fingers urging a crack wider, then soothing it over again with a faint scar in heavy bark.

Watched the firefly flicker of what Zero could see for himself as that anchor settled itself.

The same way many others had when he'd come across them in lonely places they had met unfair or ends they didn't understand; he always searched for better places, more welcoming spots. An empty road was no place to spend your time, especially after the end; he knew this was better.

The curl of motion, thin as a breath of air on a foggy day, stretched and uncoiled itself, a tumble of silvery-gray light fashioned back into four legs and what once might have been the softest fur, when it had been something a person might be able to touch to tell. A pouncing roll and a swat at swaying grasses that dipped in play; but he only saw one side of the game, he could only see the kitten as it delighted in having a playmate again.

Nobody liked to be alone or forgotten.

"I'll still come to visit," he reassured before stepping back to sit on an upturned stone large enough to make a fitful perch. "But I can't always be here, and you both need some company."

He would be back many times, he supposed until the day she found one reason or another to move on, or his time ended; whichever happened to come first.

"Oh, there you are," he added softly, a sort of subtle and pleased reverence at being granted it when, for an instant, there in the overcast evening light from a lethargic moon above he saw a shimmer of a form. A small girl adorned with ribbons in her hair, teddy bear in hand and eyes wide upon him before she flickered away, a spectral kitten weaving against her leg with a soundless purr that made its faint light from within pulse brighter.

He might have missed if he had blinked, was glad he hadn't, although even if he had he would have smiled regardless.

Zero turned to retrieve his sketchbook, to rest his shoulders against the towering trunk of an ancient tree, and let the pencil scratch across the paper in make-believe images of a little girl he couldn't see with her new friend playing among the headstones on a particularly crisp October night.

And the wind still whispered as it filled the space but sounded, to him, a little more like laughter.

[lostinthewoods-kristoff]

the spy who loved me 2: electric boogaloo || mistoff || valentines au

In Kristoff and Mitte get sent on another mission which, after Mitte becomes jealous of Kristoff being used as a honeypot to get more intel on their mark, quickly becomes more about their relationship than the mission...

Notes: first of all this is NSFW so read at ur own discretion. second of all i know valentines was 3 months ago but i don't want to hear it. third of all this is a sequel to an old valentine's au which i now dont know if we ever posted bc i cant find it but the tldr is that childhood besties and super spy duo kristoff and mitte got sent on a mission, tensions were high, things got steamy... and they never spoke of it again. and that's waht you missed on glee!

@mighty-mitte

KRISTOFF

It had been a little while since he and Mitte had last worked together – not too long, not long enough for him to have forgotten the… events of that last mission, but long enough for things to feel disjointed. Like they were out of sync. It was a strange feeling. The two of them had never been out of sync before, things had never been strange between them. Kristoff kept wondering if maybe they should talk; maybe they should have a conversation about what happened. But he sat through the briefing, silent. And he sat in the car on the way to the hotel, silent. Only now that he was standing in front of the mirror, debating whether he should undo another button at the top of his shirt or not, that he was considering saying something.

Because presumably when you’d accomplished a mission and then slept with your partner/childhood friend it was normal to discuss things? Even if it was just a line or two, something about seeing where things go or letting things drop or…. Anything. Kristoff would take literally anything if it would help him figure out how he was supposed to act around Mitte. For the most part he was just trying to keep his mind off of memories of a similar hotel room with a similar non-descript bed and a similar Mitte, with her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and–

Kristoff shook his head at himself, skin flushing pale pink. He had to get himself under control. Maybe talking about things would help. At this point, it couldn’t make them any worse.

He turned, looking at Mitte. “Feels kind of dumb that I’m the one that has to flirt, right? Kind of more your forte. I don’t even think I know how.”

Hm. That wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

But it was a genuine concern. Their mark for this evening, or his mark, anyways, was Eliza Goodfellow, the wife of an up-and-coming businessman who was quickly making a name for himself and definitely bringing weapons and stolen goods into the country and risking national security. Kristoff’s job, as given to him by his handler, was to try and charm Mrs. Goodfellow (who was apparently known for not being exactly faithful, which Kristoff thought made sense, ‘cause her husband didn’t seem like a nice guy at all) into giving them information on her husband’s whereabouts. By charming, they meant flirting, and Kristoff wasn’t good at flirting.

“I might scare her off,” He commented, head tilting as he considered the button situation again. He didn’t want to come on too strong. “Any tips?”

MITTE

Mitte could not believe they were here again. Arms dealer, hotel- a nicer one this time at least- and one goddamn bed. At least there was a refreshing twist; Kristoff all dressed up, ready to flirt for the information they needed. It was actually kind of nice to not be the honey pot for once. 

She was bugging Eliza's hotel room whilst Kristoff got the update on her husband, so Mitte got to wear jeans and think about security, instead of worrying about whether her dress was the right length, or if her hair was falling right. Almost every other guy they put her with suggested dangling her like pretty bait before they bothered to come up with anything smart. That was why she preferred being partnered with Kristoff, who didn’t look at her through the lens of how best he could use her, but how best he could work with her. Because they were friends. Best friends. Who had seen eachother naked. And hardly talked since. Well, hardly talked for how much usually talked, and frankly Mitte was surprised Kristoff's head hadn't exploded with the need to discuss their little tryst. Perhaps she should've taken mercy on him and brought it up, but she didn't want to upset the balance of their friendship any further, and she knew if the organization heard about what had happened they'd never work together again. 

But Mitte wasn't thinking about that right now, because the mission was what mattered, and Kristoff was nervous about his part. "If we had any indication she played for the right team, I'm sure I'd be the one getting all dolled up." She offered Kristoff a sympathetic smile over the top of the magazine she was pretending to read and let her eyes wander his appearance, assessing as much as appreciating. 

"You won't scare her off." She told him, stern but warm as she slipped off the bed to walk over and adjust his shirt collar, close enough to realize he'd put on cologne. He smelled good. "Tips… Tips…" Mitte cleared her throat and paid attention to his hair a moment, tussling it a bit with her fingers. "Don't let your words run away from you. Don't gesture too crazily, but don't stay too still. Smile. Hold eye contact." Which she had not done since she walked over here. Honestly she was tempted to ask if he'd rather a demonstration than an explanation, but that probably wouldn't end well. 

Finally, she looked up at Kristoff as she took a step back, considering that shirt button he'd been toying with. She thought he'd look better with it undone, but he wasn't trying to seduce her. Sadly. "You're better at this kind of thing when you don't think too much. Just let her do most of the talking while you try to steer the conversation. Keep your voice soft so she has to lean in, and a hand on her arm will work wonders." Mitte said, turning to rifle through their briefcase for earpieces. "if it sounds like you're really floundering I should be able to talk you through it, but I think you'll be fine.”

KRISTOFF

It wasn’t often that he was the one tasked with being the honeypot. To be honest he wasn’t sure he had ever been given that job before, not in all of his time as an agent– it was always Mitte. She was the one who went out there and batted her eyelashes and bit her lip and got all of the intel they needed, whilst Kristoff bugged hotel rooms and hacked into computers or tailed a mark. And it was no surprise as to why; Mitte was gorgeous. It was all too easy for an unsuspecting man to fall under her spell. Kristoff, on the other hand…

He swallowed thickly as Mitte’s hands reached for his collar, the brush of her knuckles against his neck enough to make him look up, focus on the sconce on the wall as he ran through the information he’d been given. Infiltration was nothing; he had done that before. Pretending to be a new hire at the office, or an international billionaire looking to do business, whatever it was, he had done it. He knew that you had to go in with as full a picture as you could, and then give absolutely nothing away. He was just worried, that was all. What if he slipped up? Screwed the whole thing over entirely?

He took a deep breath, looking down at her. Her eyes didn’t meet his, and he thought he was glad of it. He wasn’t really sure what he would do if they met. When she stepped away, heading for the case, he dropped his gaze to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and then glanced hastily in the mirror. He had made it look a little more tousled than he meant to, but never mind. Maybe that was a good thing?

“Well, I’m glad someone’s confident,” He said, taking the earpiece when it was offered to him. It was small, high tech; he slipped it into place with practiced ease, and checked once again in the mirror. It was invisible, unless you were really looking for it; no one but himself would know. “If anything happens, though, if you need any help… I mean, I’m sure you won’t, but.” He paused, blinking at her for a moment. “Just in case. I’ve got your back.”

MITTE 

She still knew all his twitches and tells so well, even with the distance that had stretched out between them. Kristoff wasn't the guy who reached out first to shake your hand, or bumped his knee against yours under the table. Being touched always surprised him, even when it was Mitte, who was probably more consistently hands on with him than most people.

(Once, way more hands on. Hands all over; pulling his hair, digging nails into his shoulders, running down the muscles of his chest. Christ, it had felt so good to see him lost to her touch like that. Even better to lose herself in his.) 

"You're always nervous right about now." Mitte pointed out to him, still going through the case for the bugs she would need and hoping her face hadn't turned beet red. If her voice came out a little strangled at least she could chalk that much up to her own nerves. God, what was wrong with her? It was just sex. They'd both had plenty of it. Hell, Mitte was more than familiar with the fine art of hooking up with a friend. 

Kristoff was more than that though. He was her partner, the guy in the chair watching the room and keeping her safe while she flirted for information, the only person she had a codeword with incase one of them was compromised, the only person who knew where to find her if everyone else thought she'd vanished. Kristoff was the one guy she’d always trusted, and it was an immense relief their slip up didn’t seem to have stopped them working together well, at least, but she could feel the tension of words unsaid. The question was whether it’d be better to air things out or lock the door tight on it all and hope for the best. “...And I know. I’ve got your back, too.” 

It was a friendship she couldn't afford to fuck up, which meant despite how good the sex had been, she was just going to have to stop thinking about it. Mitte leaned across enough to catch her face in the mirror and put the earpiece in, then turned properly to face Kristoff again. "They could've partnered me with someone else." She reminded him, "the chief knows you can handle this, Kristoff. You've got more game than you think." Mitte patted his arm and then moved past him to find her shoes, "worked on me, didn't it?" She cackled, even though the quip drove a bus right through her intention to not think about that night. Oh yeah, it worked alright. Thought if she remembered correctly- and how could she not, with how often it had played over in her head- she’d kissed him first. To be fair, she’d always been the first one to take the leap when they were involved in anything risky. 

Once Mitte had her trainers on and a backpack full of bugs slung over her shoulder she felt a lot more ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet and giving Kristoff’s seduction suit one last lookover. Honestly? She liked him a hell of a lot more in his post workout look, with his sweat making his already tight t-shirt cling to his abs while he poured half his water bottle over his head to cool off, but this was a nice look too. “Ready to turn on the charm?”

KRISTOFF

Kristoff almost choked on nothing at the comment, thrown out there like they had been regularly joking about the ending of their last mission since it had happened rather than furtively avoiding any mention of it at all. Once again he blushed, the link spreading right up to his ears this time and Kristoff loosened that button he’d been debating on, if only so he didn’t feel so claustrophobic. 

It was a good thing, right? That she was joking about it? That was what he and mitte did, they joked about things — they were friends. Best friends. Being with Mitte, whether it was hanging out or working or whatever, had always been as easy as breathing. And knowing Kristoff, knowing his track record, he was gonna ruin that eventually. He was very good at putting his foot in his mouth.

He knew he couldn’t go downstairs looking all flustered so he took a deep breath, ran a hand nervously through his hair which thankfully made it look kind of tousled and teased rather than messy, and gave Mitte a crooked half-smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

He headed for the door, sparing her one last glance before he was gone, heading to the elevators and then down to the ground floor, and into the bar.

The hotel was fancy, the type of place an arms dealer’s cheating wife would be spending the night. There was the low hum of chatter, tables of women in dresses more expensive than the suite they were staying in, men in suits so starched it looked like they could barely move. It was sort of depressing, honestly, but not the first glitzy affair he and Mitte had attended in the line of duty. He spotted their target across the room, sitting at the bar— he hadn’t expected her there, but he supposed it was a good spot to meet someone, if you were looking to.

“I’ve got eyes on Eliza,” he said in a low voice, enough for Mitte to hear in her earpiece, but no one else. “Heading over there now. Wish me luck.”

And with that he headed across the floor to the bar.

MITTE

On a scale of devious to diabolical, where would Mitte fall if she was to just… Skip talking about it, and start joking about it? Kristoff would play along. He’d splutter and he’d huff and then one day he’d crack a joke of his own and it’d become another chapter in the book of shit that happens when you’ve had the same best friend since you were ten and had done so much together now it was hard to tell exactly where the boundary was. Sometimes they made out when they got drunk, sometimes they stole food off each others’ plates, they spent Christmas together, they lived and breathed a job that required nothing less than absolute trust. 

So yeah, the boundary was… Well, flexible. They weren’t even drunk that night, but Kristoff had done a much better job of taking the edge off than whatever cheap little bottles of booze that minibar would’ve stocked. Thankgod there was an actual bar at this place. Still, sweeping what had happened under the rug felt a bit selfish, and Mitte was trying to be better about that, so she should at least ask if Kristoff wanted to discuss it. After the mission, obviously. Neither of them needed that kind of distraction right now. Once the Goodfellow’s were handled, there would be time.

They went their separate ways, and Mitte’s first objective was to find a maids cart, and a master key. This much at least was incredibly routine, even for her, and she could pick the lock of a utility closet in her sleep. “Go get ‘em tiger.” She said softly to Kristoff, glancing both ways down the corridor before slipping back out with the necessary key card and heading towards Eliza’s room.

The work she had to do was quiet, quick, and didn’t require more than one person. Still, she missed Kristoff’s presence, the way they’d silently orbited around each other, him effortlessly reaching for all the high up places she found it tricky to get to while she worked on the more fiddly hiding spots. As it was, this time around there was a lot of dragging the desk chair around the room and climbing on things that shouldn’t be climbed on. At least the furnishings were more structurally sound than the last hotel. (They’d have to go at it really hard to cause any damage here. Which they weren’t going to do. At all.)

“I’ll say this, these guys really know how to secure a clock to the wall.” Mitte huffed, mostly to fill the lonely quiet, “how’s things your end- is she swooning yet?” 

KRISTOFF

He did his best not to laugh. He had been there, done that. Trying to slip bugs inside of lampshades and into the soles of high heels and behind mirrors fixed to the wall. He knew it was, at the best of times, a ball ache. But he thought he would maybe rather be up there doing that than down here launching into… whatever this was.

This being walking up to the bar, striding across the room with as much nonchalance and casual grace that Kristoff could muster, which was a surprising amount. He didn’t seem like the type of person who could be graceful, but spy academy beat any clumsiness right out of you. He approached the bar, only one seat left — conveniently, right next to his mark.

“This seat taken?” He asked, drawing her attention from the drink in her hand.

Without any shame at all she looked him up, down, and over once more, and then smiled coyly. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He took a deep breath, looking up at the ornately painted ceiling for a moment. It was the type of thing Mitte would say; if it were Mitte he’d already have some kind of comeback. “Leave, I suppose,” he said after a moment. Eliza looked back at him, gaze curious, assessing. “Very disappointed.”

She smiled, a small, tucked-away sort of smile. Coy, honestly vaguely threatening. “Good thing it isn’t, then.” She nodded for him to sit; Kristoff took his cue. When the barman came over he ordered a martini, slipping the cash out of the inner pocket over his jacket over the bar. Eliza followed the movement of his hand with her eyes, and Kristoff pretended not to notice, mostly because he had no idea what to do about it just yet.

“And what brings a good looking guy on his own to this kind of bar on a Friday night?” She asked, leaning her head on her hand, elbow propped on the bar.

“Business,” Kristoff replied, smiling simply, hoping he looked as earnest as he could be. Not exactly a lie. He just couldn’t tell her what business.

She hummed, eyebrows arching. “So not pleasure, then?”

He really had not expected things to go this way this fast. He felt like he fumbled, reaching for his drink when the bartender slid the glass towards him. “Well, I…” 

MITTE

It was quite nice to feel like a real spy instead of a pretty doll put on display to distract the bad guy, honestly. Not that it felt that way every time, but the circuits her mind had to run to make sure she was sitting up straight and smiling and pushing her tits up just enough, and the way those guys could leer– god, the things they could say that she just had to giggle at, the way their fingers could dig in when they grabbed at her– well, she was always grateful for whatever quips Kristoff could make down the line to help stop her snapping them like a twig.

Thinking about all that did get her blood going enough that Mitte was finally able to wrench the clock free of its setting to slip a bug in the back before replacing it, and she snickered quietly at Eliza’s forward approach. It did sound like the way Mitte might challenge a man, though coming from Miss Goodfellow it just sounded like a woman not interested in wasting her time. That worked in their favor in the long run; she knew what she wanted and she’d answer slightly strange questions without too much forethought to get it. Kristoff was probably going to need some help, though. Upfront women tended to intimidate him- she would know.

Mitte resisted the urge to rib him about the drink choice- she could call him James Bond later, when he could afford to be distracted- and just listened, whistling through her teeth at Eliza’s continued no nonsense approach. “Stay cool, Casanova.” She hummed, “...Smile at her like you smile at me when you’ve caught me in a stupid lie, and tell her you’re a busy guy and pleasure wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’ve found her you might just have to make time for it.” At least, that was what Mitte would like to hear, that she was worth ruining plans for, so Eliza would probably be all over an ego boost like that.

She wasn’t going to think about whether or not it was a bad idea to imply to Kristoff that she thought the smug little smirk he sometimes threw her way when he won was sexy as all hell. It would be fine, he wasn’t the type to use his powers for evil. (He didn’t even know he had powers. Maybe after Eliza he’d realize.) “Tilt your head a bit… Check her out. And then ask her why she’s all alone, too. But pitch your voice kinda low, like when you’re doing your quiet and angry cop routine.” Secretly, she called it the Sexy and Pissed off cop routine, but absolutely no need to tell him that.

Hey Mitte, what’d you do with your Friday night? Ah, I talked my best friend through seducing an arms dealer's wife. God, she loved her job. She slipped a bug into the tissue box in the bathroom, “I shouldn’t be much longer.” 

KRISTOFF

There was no outward sign of him listening to Mitte’s chatter in his ear, he was too well trained for that, but he took in everything she said without questioning it for a second. Mitte wouldn’t get him into trouble, nor would she jeopardise the mission, and honestly? She was way better at this than he was, so if she had advice, he was going to take it. It was just a case of assembling all the information he’d been given and using it correctly, and he was good at that.

Quiet and angry cop routine– he was good at that, too. Or at least, it had never failed him yet. It also had never been used for seduction before but hey, there was a first time for everything. He gave a soft laugh, like it was amusing, just how forward she was, and directed that smile at his drink. The dumb part was, he played different characters all the time. Quiet angry cop, new guy who just started at the firm, bartender with a shoulder to cry on; being a spy was also a part-time acting job, and he had never worried about it before now. It was just like those other jobs – he just had to keep telling himself that. 

He looked up at Eliza, glad to find her still looking at him, waiting for an answer. That smile was still in place, a little crooked, amused, almost disbelieving, but hopefully charming. “I’m a very busy guy,” He said, parroting Mitte’s words back at Eliza. “Pleasure wasn’t exactly the plan, but..” He pursed his lips and tilted his head, just as directed. He thought he should maybe feel embarrassed, having Mitte in his ear, no doubt making fun of him up there whilst she bugged the room, but honestly? It was good to know he had back up. He made a deliberate show of looking her over, which served not only to make her smile, small and pleased with herself, but to give him more information, too. If she did a runner, he had a pretty good description of her. “I might just have to make time for it.”

He turned to his drink again – for the record, he hated martinis, but he was hoping the vodka might make him feel a little less self conscious. “But what about you?” He asked, looking back up at her again, turning a little to show she had his full attention. “What’s a woman like you doing here all alone?”

“A woman like me?” She asked, one eyebrow arching. Not offended, no – fishing for something, Kristoff assumed.

“C’mon,” He said, earning another smile from her, like they were old friends, having a laugh. “You don’t need me to tell you what you are.”

“It would still be nice to hear it,” She countered, sipping from the glass in her hand. 

“Alright,” He acquiesced, “What brings a good looking woman like you on her own to this kind of bar on a Friday night?”

She laughed, amused, so he did as well. She turned a little towards him in her seat, her own head tilting as she looked at him. She sighed deeply, dramatically, and said, “Looking for company, I suppose. A knight in shining armour, maybe.”

MITTE Quite suddenly, while listening to her sweet talk and imagining her batting her lashes at Kristoff, Mitte decided she hated Eliza Goodfellow. They dealt with a lot of terrible people every day, real nasty criminals who had done unimaginable shit– but Eliza Goodfellow was just a woman who didn’t care how her husband made his money as long as he had a lot of it, and didn’t care where he went as long as it gave her time to flirt with hot strangers at bars!

She shouldn’t be here, flirting with Kristoff. If she just wasn’t here, then it could be– well… It wouldn’t be anyone. If Eliza wasn’t here, then they wouldn’t be here either. Beyond that, getting too emotional over a target was a terrible idea, even if that emotion was hatred, so Mitte had to swallow it all down, but she could not suppress her displeased huff in response to Eliza’s fawning. She was about as subtle as a brick. “Tell her…” Actually, this wasn’t fun at all. But it was her job, so she could do it. “Tell her you don’t own a sword but you do know how to ride a horse.” Mitte frowned, listening to the two of them carry on whilst she did one final sweep of the room to make sure she hadn’t missed any good hiding spots. “And ask why her husband hasn’t swept her up to ride off with her into the sunset, if you think working him into the conversation so early would be okay.” Kristoff seemed to find his groove, which was good for the mission and Mitte refused to think about it beyond that, ignoring her own grimace as she passed the wardrobe mirror on her way back out.

Initially, she’d planned on just heading straight down to the bar to drag Kristoff out of whatever mess his flirting got him into, but something drove her back to their hotel room- two beds this time, because Mitte had personally promised violence if they pulled the same shit again- to dig through her suitcase, and pull out a nicer top. The one with the ditzy kind of floral print she liked, and a sweetheart neckline that always made Kristoff’s eyes drop for just a second. It was a nice bar, so looking like she’d thrown on whatever old thing was going to draw attention that she didn’t want to have. She was just trying to blend in a bit. “I’m on my way down.” Mitte told Kristoff as she stepped into the lift, “you get what we need yet?” 

KRISTOFF

“Well, I don’t have a sword, but I do know how to ride a horse. That good enough?”

It earned a laugh from Eliza, all breathy and coy and maybe she was acting, too. Or maybe she wasn’t — maybe Mitte’s advice was just that good. He couldn’t be sure, but he tried not to act surprised when Eliza leaned a little bit closer, reaching again for her drink. “Close enough.”

He chuckled, shuffling just a little closer himself, almost imperceptibly, but enough for the conversation to feel a little more intimate. Hopefully, anyways. He kept his voice low and soft, hoping he wasn’t about to ruin the entire thing when he said, “So, what? There’s no dashing husband coming to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset?”

“Who said anything about a husband?” Eliza asked, her voice low and sultry, a small smirk on her lips.

Kristoff nodded to the hand she was leaning her head on. “Your ring.”

“Ah,” Eliza murmured. She shifted to set her hand on the bar, looking at the ring. It was a pretty sizeable rock — the guy was definitely rich. “Well, my husband would rather do business deals in Shanghai than take a vacation with his wife.” She tapped her fingers against the bar, looking at the ring for a long moment. Kristoff waited, not wanting to spook her. When she looked up again, she asked, “Does it bother you?”

He hoped Mitte was taking notes. Shanghai— they could look into his dealings, see who he’d done business with there, who might be looking to collaborate. They could be on a flight in a matter of hours. 

Eliza was still waiting for an answer. “No,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. 

Eliza smiled, her other hand shifting, settling on his thigh. “Good.” 

MITTE 

She wondered if Kristoff hated it too, hearing her flirt and giggle with targets. Maybe it was just that, no one really liked hearing lies. Yeah. But seriously, she knew it was useful for their mission and all, but was a stupid rich husband who hardly bothered you not enough? Call Mitte crazy, but it sounded like a decent set up, what did she have to go crawling all over guys like Kristoff for? 

And Mitte meant crawling in the most literal sense, when she walked into the bar and saw them sitting so close together, her hand on his thigh like they'd been flirting all night and not for five minutes. Still, they got Shanghai out of her, and that meant Eliza Goodfellow had fulfilled her purpose. 

She swiped a half finished cosmopolitan- shame she didn't have the patience to order her own and enjoy a few sips- and flagged down a passing waitress, who already had a few half empty glasses on her tray. Mitte pulled a couple of fifties from her purse- would she ever be so used to having money she stopped spending it stupidly?- and set one of them down on the tray, along with the glass. "See that blonde guy over there?" She asked quietly, head tipping towards Kristoff and the vile woman still leaning closer. (He wouldn't know how to stop her, how to end their interaction without a fuss. She had to do it.) "That's my boyfriend. If you happen to trip on your way past and spill these over the woman trying to sit in his lap, I'll give you the other fifty on my way out." 

Now see, Mitte knew hospitality staff. Even in a place like this they didn't make enough for how mad the job drove them. She'd happily pay £100 quid to watch Eliza suffer, and the waitress only had to make a simple mistake. 

So Mitte sat back to watch the scene play out, Eliza and Kristoff so close to each other, and then; Eliza rearing back in horror, screeching like a banshee about whatever stupid designer made her stupid dress. She sidled over, surreptitiously slipping the waitress that second fifty, and grabbing Kristoff's hand to pull him away before he could start fussing over her with napkins. Miss Goodfellow, so consumed with misplaced rage, barely noticed him leaving.

Mitte didn't speak until they were in the elevator again, alone, her tone the epitome of innocence. "I think that went well. Shame about Eliza's dress." 

KRISTOFF

Oh yeah, he had no idea how to extricate himself out of this one. He could do the classic, excuse himself and climb through the air vent in the bathroom, or maybe say he had to take a call and pull the fire alarm on his way out. He had options, he just had very little time to think about them, because Eliza’s hand was at his knee and then his thigh and inching ever higher—

And then it was gone, and he was leaning back, Eliza screaming about useless staff and dry cleaning bills. Kristoff looked down and realised he had faired a bit better, but not by much. His shirt was wet, sticking to his abdomen as Mitte grabbed his hand.

At first Kristoff looked up, wondering if he’d been made — but then he saw Mitte, or rather the back of her head as she made a beeline for the elevator — and felt an overwhelming wave of relief. He was fine and she was fine and they had their intel, and they were going. No shots fired, no covers blown.

He leaned back when the elevator door closed, back to the wall. “Never mind, I guess. Not like she can’t afford another one.” He paused, looking at Mitte for a moment. “You couldn’t think of another way to get me out of there?”

MITTE

She had not thought about Kristoff being in the splash zone. Now, Mitte had seen him in just about every state of undress, distress, and duress a person could be in, so this should not be a problem. And it wasn’t. Except she kept sneaking glances at his abs, and remembering how the muscles had twitched under her hands. Mitte swallowed thickly and turned to look in the mirror instead, fussing with her hair for no reason apart from needing something else to focus on. 

The truth was, yeah, there were plenty of ways to get Kristoff out of the bar, most of them cleaner and cheaper, things they’d done dozens of times before when she’d played the honeypot part. She shrugged, feigning indifference. “It was the first idea that came to me.” At least, she wasn’t lying, but Mitte knew that wasn’t really why she’d gone that route. Subtlety had never really been her style, anyway, so as far as she was concerned this was all very typical behavior, regardless of motive.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and Mitte made for their room without waiting or looking back. “So, Shanghai.” She said once they were back in their own space, flopping down onto one of the beds and staring at the ceiling. “Makes sense. A little predictable, but that works for us, I guess, means we stand a chance of finding…” 

Mitte made the mistake of glancing over at Kristoff, who had shucked the suit jacket and was unbuttoning the wet shirt, her sentence trailing off. “Um-” She blinked, and quickly wrenched her gaze back to the ceiling, clearing her throat. “Well, we stand a chance of him working with one of our old informants, right? Not super likely, but I could send out a few messages, see if anyone is down to talk to us.”

KRISTOFF

She was lying, he knew it. Her nonchalance was too forced, not quite right, and it caused a small crease to form between his brows as he frowned. They had much more efficient, much quieter ways of getting each other out of tricky spots like that. They were trained to do it — extraction and destruction were key parts of spy training. Getting yourself out of a situation with as minimal fuss as possible was just what they did, and yet Mitte had chosen to bribe a waitress. Presumably, anyways. Kristoff couldn’t see any waitress working in a place as fancy as that just tripping over nothing.

The doors opened and he stepped out after her, still frowning softly as he watched her walk back to the room. He looked both ways before he slipped inside, making sure no one was watching, and he locked the door once he was in.

He flung his jacket on the bed, untucking his shirt and working on the buttons. He’d have to get changed if they were going to get on a flight. Couldn’t go to the airport looking like he’d spent all of last night and today in a bar (and smelling like it, too). 

He let his shirt flop on a heap on the floor and reached for his duffel, looking for something to wear. “Why’d you do it?” He asked, ignoring her completely. He looked up at her, pausing his search for a clean shirt. “You don’t do the first thing that comes to you — you want to, but you’re trained better.” He knew her, too well. Mitte was impulsive but not dumb. “So why the tray of champagne?”

MITTE 

Yeah, alright. Kristoff's insight shouldn't have surprised her. The fact that he hadn't cottoned on to her reasoning was likely because he couldn't see his nose for his face. The day Kristoff Bjorgman realized he was as hot as he was smart would be a dangerous day for women everywhere. 

Even now he somehow managed to be oblivious, shirtless and huffing at her like he wasn't insanely distracting. It wasn't like she had any right to feel this way. Kristoff was just doing his job, and even if he hadn't been he was allowed to flirt with whoever he wanted. 

Just… Not while Mitte was listening. "Jeez, Kristoff. Allow a lady to have a little fun." She stood back up to get out her laptop, to see about starting to put out feelers in Shanghai, and to have something to hide her face behind. "We both know it would've taken you forever to get yourself out of there, and it's not like she didn't deserve a little karma." 

KRISTOFF

He snagged a t-shirt, plain black and nondescript, a spy’s best friend; they were going to need to blend in. He paused with it in his hand, watching as she went to the laptop. Evasive. And like he said, he knew Mitte to be impulsive, but he didn’t know her to be sloppy. And maybe she was right, it would have taken a while for him to get himself out of there, but he could’ve done it. Or Mitte could’ve done it, just in a subtler way. He frowned softly, wishing she would just talk to him, and then remembering that talking about important things wasn’t really something they did nowadays. If they talked about whatever this was then they might have to talk about their last mission and Kristoff didn’t even know where to begin with that–

He pulled the shirt over his head, crouching down again to begin shoving things into his duffel. Might as well get ready to leave – they would be gone sooner rather than later. He paused, looking up at Mitte, still focused on her laptop. It wasn’t– the two things couldn’t be related. Could they? If Mitte was hiding something then that was strange, but it wasn’t strange if she was hiding something because it was something they weren’t talking about…

Kristoff, having confused himself, shook his head. “I guess.” He said eventually, watching Mitte for a moment. “Though, y’know, I don’t appreciate you doubting my skills. I was starting to get the hang of it.” 

He was only joking – he was waiting for her to look up, grinning just a little.

MITTE 

To say her face felt hot wouldn't be accurate, rather, there was some fiery thing pulsing behind her eyes that she didn't really understand. Mitte liked being friends with Kristoff. It was easy, it almost always had been, so whatever silly ideas her brain was conjuring up now it could just bloody well stop. The last thing they needed was complications. 

Things were fine. Nothing needed to change, she just had to get a grip. (But things were already changing, weren't they? If she noticed him tugging on a t-shirt out of the corner of her eye and wanted to tell him to take it off again.) It wasn't like it mattered that she was feeling so nuts anyway, maybe Kristoff could fool the rest of the world but he couldn't fool her, and if he's ever felt this way watching her flirt with targets she would know about it. 

So, he dropped it, but then he picked up something just as bad. Mitte huffed, still hiding behind her screen. Work. She was meant to be working. Shanghai contacts. "...You did great, Kristoff." She told him, honest, if a touch bitter about admitting it. "Pat yourself on the back. Top notch flirting, she was eating out of your hand." Mitte reached for her hoodie and zipped it all the way up, feeling stupid she'd even bothered to change her top. What did she want from Kristoff, anyway? "Well we got her room bugged, so if he moves on from Shanghai we'll probably hear about it. It'll probably take our contacts a while to get back to us. We should just pack up and get going." 

KRISTOFF

She was teasing him, which was a good sign, but she wasn’t looking at him, which made him frown again. He hated feeling like things were off, like there was something standing in the middle of them. He hated to think that he had ruined his and Mitte’s friendship, that he continued to ruin it by not being able to talk about it, and risked ruining it further by keep thinking about it. It being the urge to kiss her, to throw that laptop out the window and ask if she remembered what they did last time they were in a hotel room together—

He pursed his lips, nodded. Right. They had a job to do. He had a job to do, he was a professional. He took a breath and then cast his gaze around the room, reaching for the last few bits and pieces that he needed. He swapped his dress shoes out for his boots and grabbed his jacket, ready to go. He didn’t exactly want to — he wanted to know why Mitte was so sullen. Was she regretting this? Working with him again? If she was, he wished she’d just tell him. If she left after this and never spoke to him again… he didn’t know what he’d do.

“I’ll call us a cab,” he said, lingering by the door. “You can check us out — I’ll meet you outside.”

MITTE 

What would he say? If Mitte came out with the ugly truth of it, her unreasonable possessiveness, would Kristoff even believe her? Would he care? Would he think she was being ridiculous? Just another of Mitte’s silly mood swings, another this is how it is and you just have to go with it. Kristoff had taken a lot of her absurdities in stride over the course of their friendship, every stupid whim and bit of self sabotage. Something would have to break the damn eventually, and Mitte would hate for it to be something she couldn’t even pin down a reasonable explanation for. 

So she kept her mouth shut, packed up her stuff, and checked them out of the hotel. 

They’d been on countless plane journeys, and depending on their individual moods their interactions ranged from driving each other up the wall, keeping each other entertained, and companionable silence. This… Was none of that. This was stony and awkward and Mitte nearly jumped out of her damn skin every time their elbows brushed on the shared armrest. 

She called their boss when they landed to get hotel details and give him a rundown of their plan, chattering away as Kristoff navigated the streets- still so busy, even at this time of night- to get them safely to where they were staying. Even annoyed at her as he must be- and she could practically feel it radiating off him- he directed her without comment, making sure she didn’t run into anyone or turn down the wrong street.

Being the booming center of business it was, their room here was even more upscale than the last place, all sleek and shiny, and Mitte wondered how many of the little liquor bottles she could snatch from the fridge before Kristoff said anything. “Okay… It’s pretty late, so, boss said we can just hole up in our room tonight doing research and hit the ground running with our search properly tomorrow.” 

KRISTOFF

Kristoff wasn’t quiet because he was annoyed or mad or anything like that — Kristoff was quiet because he was thinking. 

Alright so maybe he was overthinking, or maybe he was reading too hard between the lines but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Mitte was hiding something from him. And they never hid anything from each other, at least not until all this. Besides, he didn’t feel like he was really hiding anything. The way he had to look away sometimes when she was all dressed up ready for the mission, the way he had blushed when her hand had brushed his neck. He was a spy, he was good with secrets, but not when it came to Mitte.

She had seemed… normal, before they’d gone their separate ways. They’d had the same kind of banter they always did and then out of nowhere she was sullen and closed off and Kristoff didn’t know what had happened. Something, he supposed, between Mitte going to bug the room and coming down to join him in the bar. He could’ve gotten more intel probably, if he’d been left to it for a minute longer. Shanghai was a big place, maybe he could’ve narrowed it down, or gotten an idea of where he might be headed to next, but Mitte had swooped in pretty quickly and had shut everything down before—

Oh.

The lightbulb flicked on above Kristoff’s head somewhere over Russia. He glanced at Mitte out of the corner of his eye and said nothing, staring resolutely at the airplane seat in front of himself.

He was being stupid. He’d added two and two and gotten five. There was no way that Mitte— that she— he couldn’t even really articulate it. He pushed it to one side; he got them to their hotel and checked them into their room and was so decided that he wasn’t going to say anything at all until he was stood there, watching Mitte eye the mini bar.

He wanted to say okay, sounds good, but instead he said, “Were you— were you mad at her? Eliza?”

MITTE

She hated this. She was a talker! Especially to Kristoff, who she’d seen curled into himself in a corner in highschool and decided, yeah, I can probably fuck with that guy. Then he looked up, and he smiled at her, and for whatever reason Mitte decided to just… Talk to him. And he listened, and then suddenly they were friends. 

Before now she’d always known what to say to him. But now there was a stupid little voice in Mitte’s head, telling her to ruin some lady’s dress just because she put her hand on his leg, or to run her hand over his abs, or kiss him just to wipe the frown off his face. God, this was why friends didn’t sleep together, it didn’t just blur the line, it put all sorts of experiences in your head that you shouldn’t have. How was she supposed to be indifferent to someone else leaning in to kiss Kristoff, when she knew how good kissing him felt? 

Mad. Mitte sat with the word for a moment, eyes narrowed a bit at Kristoff, thinking. Was she mad? No, no, mad wasn’t the right word. Eliza was just doing what she probably did every night, cheating on her husband. Mitte didn’t care about any of those other guys. It bothered her because Kristoff was part of the equation.

…Ah. Oh god. Jealous? No. Maybe. That was ridiculous, she had no right. Kristoff was just doing his job. This worked. This was good, they worked better together than with other partners.  "No." Mitte said after a few beats of quiet, going about getting her laptop and shoving her bag under one of the beds, "no, I wasn't mad at her. You wanna listen to her room recording a while and see if she's said anything useful? I'll see if anyone got back in touch with us about her husband."

KRISTOFF

No, he didn’t want to listen to the room recording. He doubted Eliza was going to say anything too useful except for a lot of swearing and angry ranting about useless waitstaff, so he figured it could wait. They had time, and besides, it wasn’t like he’d be able to focus. Mitte wasn’t mad, fine. Which meant that there was really only one other thing it could be, as far fetched and ludicrous as the idea was.

“You were jealous of her.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that he almost startled himself. Listen, he could only work with the intel he had, and what he had was Mitte instructing him on how to flirt and then coming downstairs and seeing her good advice out to work and sending a waitress to ruin the mark’s dress. She wasn’t mad, and Kristoff honestly thought he might be kind of upset if she really doubted his ability to get himself out of a tricky situation that much—

“Right?” He asked, immediately doubting himself. But then, no— he couldn’t leave any room for doubt, or Mitte wouldn’t admit to anything. Stronger, he said, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

MITTE

Unfortunately, for as hapless as he could come across, Kristoff was really the brains behind the partnership. Mitte wasn't surprised when he figured it out so fast, and she tried not to react, but she could feel her face heating up. 

She couldn't say nothing. That was as good as admitting it anyway, and Kristoff sounded too adamant to be distracted. Mitte closed her eyes for a moment and heaved a soft sigh before looking at him over the top of the laptop, "...You don't have to tell me I'm being ridiculous. I already know." She glanced again at the minibar, and wondered what he was thinking. 

Alright, so the reason they'd never talked about what happened at the last hotel was because Mitte had never brought it up, and she knew that, but Kristoff… He'd never shown that kind of interest in her. Before or since. And even if he had, they both knew what a terrible idea it was. Messy and dangerous and easy to take advantage of. "You were doing your job. I just… didn't like hearing it. Or seeing it. I should've gotten you out of there quieter, I wasn't thinking. It won't happen again." It was stupid and dangerous and he'd have every right to decide to work with someone who wasn't going to cause that kind of fuss. Still, selfishly, Mitte wished he wouldn't. 

KRISTOFF

He looked at her for a long moment, watching Mitte as she looked everywhere but him. His gaze didn’t shift, and though he was listening to her it took him a second to actually register what it was she was saying. She hadn’t come out and said yes, but she wasn’t saying no — Mitte was stubborn enough that Kristoff knew she would never come out and say it outright so this was probably as good as it was going to get.

It won’t happen again. Why did she think he would be upset about it? She had to know how he felt about her. It wasn’t like he could hide it, though he tried his best to. His opinion most of the time was that Mitte was the smarter of the two of them but right now? 

He should just nod and say okay and let it go. They had a mission to complete, intel to gather. They knew their mark was in Shanghai but Shanghai was a big place, and they needed to try and narrow that down. 

He didn’t do that, though. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and took Mitte’s face in his hands, kissing her like it might be the last chance he got. More like making up for lost time, he supposed. How much could they have been doing this since the last mission they’d gone on?

He pulled away after a moment, one hand falling to her waist. He didn’t go too far, keeping her close as he looked down at her. “You’re an idiot.”

MITTE

She wanted to kick herself. Or jump out the window. Or run across the room and put her hand over Kristoff’s mouth before he could say anything that made this worse, tell him to just forget she’d even talked. How long would they be able to keep it up this time? If Mitte shut this down before it started and they returned to their own homes and their own lives with her uncertainty creating a rift all over again, would they find their way back to each-other a second time? The truth was, Mitte was pretty uninterested in life without Kristoff, and she’d take whatever he wanted to offer her. It might not be easy, but she’d be able to keep the jealousy under wraps, even if the feeling of it had settled in her gut like a lead weight.. She’d do practically anything to keep him. 

But then he was grabbing her and kissing her and kissing him back was easy. Like breathing. Mitte made a small noise of surprise, and all the tension she’d been carrying since before they even left for Shanghai melted off her shoulders. Her hands crept up Kristoff’s abs until her palms could settle on his chest, and she resisted the urge to twist the material of his shirt in her fists until it could be ripped off. 

For a moment after he pulled away, Mitte stared up at him with no clue what they were supposed to do next. They’d crossed this line before and they knew how it ended. But then her brain caught up to what he’d said, and she huffed. “I’m the idiot? Tch, it took you all the way to Shanghai to figure out what the issue was!” Nevermind that it had taken her just as long to name it. “And, may I point out, a smart man wouldn’t have called me an idiot right after kissing me, if he was hoping he’d get to do it again.” Though, she barely made a move to get out of Kristoff’s grip, only gently pushing her hands against his chest. 

KRISTOFF

“It was a calculated risk,” he argued with a grin, leaning down to kiss her again, a little softer this time but just as heated, the same desperation behind it. He knew she would let him— because she had been jealous. Because she didn’t want anyone else flirting with him, because she wanted him. The thought alone was enough to make him giddy. “You’re the idiot because I’ve liked you since— I don’t even know since when. And I suck at hiding it.” 

He did. He was obvious, at least he thought he was. Blushing when she touched him and finding excuses to be with her and a million other little things that gave away just how obsessed with her he was. He dropped his other hand to her waist, both hands sliding round to the small of her back so he could pull her closer again, even with her hands on his chest, pushing back a little. “We could listen to the room recording,” he said, looking down at her. “Or we could make up for lost time?”

MITTE

He kissed her again and Mitte didn’t move or protest, all but melting against him. She’d never had a lot of friends. Mitte’s temperament wasn’t exactly easy to handle, and she was picky to boot. Kristoff was the only person in her life who she had let stick around for so long. So when Kristoff said they were best friends, well, she took that and ran with it. She didn’t care if other people said they were too close, or they did things best friends didn’t do- Kristoff was the one she trusted, and he’d never kicked up a fuss that they were doing this or that wrong. But apparently he’d liked her for who knew how long, so of course he wouldn’t have an issue with that stuff! Stuff Mitte had never had an issue with either, admittedly. All the touching and the secrets between just them and how boring it was to do anything at all if they weren’t doing it together. 

Her blood hummed with satisfaction at having him so close, and really, her possessiveness wasn’t new. Whenever Kristoff worked well with another agent she managed to find at least some small and silly thing wrong with them, so that she could point it out to him, and maybe he wouldn’t work with them again. This of course was all under the guise of looking out for him, but maybe… Yeah, it was possible she’d been jealous this whole time. 

“Okay.” Mitte said softly, conceding to perhaps the only person she was happy to lose an argument against, her arms sliding further and up around his shoulders, bringing him closer. “Your poker face is better than you think. But…I’m the idiot.” And then they were kissing again, Mitte popping up on her tiptoes to be closer, to press their bodies together better, as her hands carded through Kristoff’s hair. 

KRISTOFF

He didn’t think it was just her, for the record. He was pretty stupid too. It had taken him a very long flight to figure out what was going on and even then he hadn’t been too sure of himself. But he was too busy kissing her to really think about telling her that — in fact, as her fingers ran through his hair he stopped thinking about anything, everything falling away except for Mitte’s hands and the heat of her body, pressing up against his own.

He reached down, hands slipping over the swell of her ass to grip the backs of her thighs, pulling her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He thought that was going to be easier than trying to stumble backwards towards the bed. He twisted, stepped towards it until he could lay her down onto it, kissing over her jaw and her neck as he shifted to hover over her. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, pausing once again to look at her. Wanting to be sure, before they took things too far, and did something else they couldn’t talk about in the morning.

MITTE

He liked her. He liked her, and he was kissing her, and Mitte’s head was spinning with ‘what if this’ ‘what if that’ scenarios. Things she didn’t want to think about right now– things that could wait. The present felt far more urgent than any of that, especially as Kristoff was scooping her up, and she was so familiar with the calluses of his palms she could practically feel them through her jeans. 

The pent up frustration that had driven their last encounter- at least, it had driven Mitte and she’d thought they were on the same page at the time, but now she was curious to know from Kristoff’s perspective- was missing, replaced with a desperation that felt more real. She’d barely registered they were going anywhere until the plush mattress was against her back, all her limbs tangled around Kristoff’s body, head tipping to the side to offer him more of her neck.

Is this okay. Mitte turned her head back to look at him, already a bit out of breath. She could say no. It would be a lie, but she could say it and Kristoff would stop and they could get back to work and this might never happen again. Maybe that was what should’ve happened last time. Once was an accident. Twice was a decision. “Actually, no.” Mitte’s brows furrowed, but the rest of her face couldn’t stay so composed, a smile already stealing her mouth as she gripped at the material of his shirt where it bunched a little around his shoulders, “this thing is really throwing me off. It’s gotta go.” 

KRISTOFF

For a second his brow creased, a small frown appearing. Of course if she meant it, if she didn’t want to do this that was fine, he would understand. They had to work together, and if this was going to complicate things, or it was going to ruin their friendship… he didn't want to make things difficult. Even though it felt easy — as easy as breathing, with Mitte.

But then she was tugging at his shirt and Kristoff rolled his eyes, breaking into a grin. He leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, feeling already like he’d gone too long without it before he sat back until he was kneeling, pulling his shirt up and over his head and away to one side. “This better?” He asked, eyebrows arched. He didn’t move back to lean over her, looking down at her instead, committing the sight of her beneath him to memory just in case.

MITTE

She was cackling at Kristoff’s response until he silenced her with his mouth, and her hands came up to cup his face for just a brief moment- a thankyou, for his sweetness, or for taking her seriously- before he was pulling away to take off the t-shirt. God, the things she’d thought about doing to those abs. Seriously, how did she miss it? How many people get distracted fantasising about their best friends’ abs? “Much better.” Mitte’s smile was satisfied as she reached out, though her arms weren’t quite long enough to touch him where he’d settled, so she surged up to kiss him again, her hands skating down his chest and over his abs. 

“I didn’t tell the waitress to spill the drinks on you, too.” She thought Kristoff might like her candidness, so she made the confession between little kisses peppered along his jaw, her arms circling his waist to map the muscles of his back. “I only told her to get Eliza. I think you looked better when the suit was wet, though.” Maybe that was just Mitte; she liked her men a bit dishevelled. 

KRISTOFF

He was glad when she rose up to meet him, kissing her hard enough to take his breath away when she pulled back. His stomach twitched under her touch, muscles tensing for a second before he relaxed, pushing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, I figured,” he murmured, bringing her close for another kiss, one hand on her neck, the other at the hem of her shirt, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. He had figured both that she hadn’t meant for it to happen and that she had preferred it — she hadn’t been able to look at him, after all. He kissed her again, slipping his hand fully under her shirt, skirting over the soft skin of her stomach to the small of her back.

MITTE 

Kristoff was so reactive. It was unsurprising, because he always was, and yeah, she'd missed it. How? She spotted liars for a living! 

It was at this point Mitte remembered the bra she was wearing. Nothing wrong with it, yknow, definitely clean. But she'd been in work mode, so it was also definitely function over style, plain white, boring. Obviously the same had been true last time, and Kristoff would not care less. Still, it was a shame she wasn't wearing something sexier. Maybe next time. 

(Next time?) 

Mitte nipped at his bottom lip, "got me all figured out now, huh?" She hummed against Kristoff’s mouth, pushing gently on his shoulders so she could shift to straddle his lap. She leaned back enough to tug off her top and toss it away, then pressed into him again to kiss down his neck. 

KRISTOFF

He wished that was the truth. Mitte was the type that seemed all mysterious and aloof but she wasn’t, not really, not in the way everyone assumed she was. No, Mitte was a mystery in other ways. The intricacies of her heart were still something Kristoff couldn’t quite figure out, only chipping away at the first little bit of them today, and he’d needed a long haul flight and a taxi ride through Shanghai to get there. He didn’t have Mitte figured out at all.

“Trying to,” He replied, muffled against the newly exposed skin of her collarbone. He sucked a mark into the skin there, not one that would last for too long, fading by morning, probably, but long enough for him to feel proud of his work. He pressed a kiss over it, tilting his head up to catch her lips again, hands skirting over her ribs to grip onto her hips.

MITTE 

A soft moan escaped when he sucked at her skin, and for a moment Mitte thought of their training together, the smug look that would flash across Kristoff's face whenever he managed to leave a mark. She muffled a small laugh in his neck, then he was kissing her again and it stopped being funny, her hips rocking into his as he grabbed her. 

"I gave you the clues already.." Mitte reminded him, her fingers trailing lightly down his stomach  they hit the waistband of his jeans, "or did you think I'd somehow done research into how she liked to be flirted with?" 

KRISTOFF

Okay, Kristoff hadn’t actually thought of it that way.

At the time he was just working under the assumption that Mitte was being a good friend, and giving him the tools he needed to get the job done. Plus, he’d been so nervous he wouldn’t have even realised if she’d spelled it out for him. He wished he could say it was because he was focused on the job, but… no. Definitely nerves.

Now he tried to think about what she’d told him, and he tilted his head, eyes roaming over her slowly. When he spoke he did his best not to sound too strangled (difficult, with her hand in the waistband of his jeans), keeping his voice low and firm, that Sexy Pissed Off Cop voice — and yeah, he knew she called it that. Angela in Tech had told him once. “And here I thought you were just helping out a friend.”

MITTE

This wasn’t like last time. For Mitte, at least, it had been like scratching an itch. A way to deal with all her energy while they were stuck in that hotel room. What had it been for Kristoff? Had he been into her already back then, or did it start that night? She supposed it didn’t really matter, since they seemed to be on the same wavelength now. 

A little thrill chased down her spine when Kristoff dropped his voice, and Mitte found herself sitting up a bit straighter. Nothing called her to attention faster than that tone. Obviously most of the time when he used it there was an interrogation or the like going on, but now it was directed at her… Well, hopefully Kristoff would only use the power for good. “I was helping.” she promised, her face projecting a picture of perfect innocence, like she wasn’t toying with the button of his jeans. 

“I didn’t realise I’d hate hearing it until you’d already started flirting.” Mitte pouted and shook her head, “I don’t know how you do it, listen to me sweet talk targets all the time. You’ve never bribed a waitress to spill drinks on me.” 

KRISTOFF

Yeah alright so he couldn’t keep it up for long, the way she sat to attention making him smile against her skin, nose skimming her collarbone as his head dipped lower, kisses pressed over the curve of her breast. He huffed softly, trying to look as unamused as he could when he was met with her best innocent act, though that didn’t last long either. Couldn’t, not with her hands skirting around the waistband of his jeans.

He didn’t really know what to say to that, though. He would be a liar if he said it didn’t affect him. The slight pang of jealousy that he had for so long mistook for protectiveness, curdling in his stomach whilst some creep ran a hand over Mitte’s thigh or leaned in a little too close. He shifted to run his hands over her hips, dipping his head again. “You get used to it.” He said finally, his right hand lingering at her waist whilst the left ran up the length of her body, fingers skirting up and over her ribs to cup her breast, thumb rubbing over her nipple through the thin fabric. “Probably ruined that now, though. Maybe next time I’ll bribe the maitre d’ to pull the fire alarm.”

MITTE 

She was quite quickly becoming frustrated with how many clothes they both had on. Maybe it was her fault– she was always the leader when they did something reckless, Kristoff was probably letting her set the pace. Especially in this arena where he’d been waiting, she didn’t know how long, for her feelings to catch up with his. Had their feelings caught up? Mitte- she hadn’t really had time to think about hers too much, except to realise that they existed. Though he’d probably been denying them as much as he could, Kristoff must have a better idea of just how deep his feelings ran. All Mitte could say for sure right now was that she wanted more.

As much as she loathed the idea of getting used to seeing him in these situations- and she did very much, giving a displeased huff as he voiced it-  she knew Kristoff was right. They were going to have to get used to a lot. Seeing him get hurt– god, it had always been awful, but now? Mitte didn’t even want to think about it, actually, certainly not right now. Her body arched into the touch of his hand, head falling back as she hummed in pleasure. “Fuck, I’d like to see that.” She said, her voice a breathless laugh, picturing Kristoff all wound up over someone putting their hands on her. Mitte slid her hands up into his hair and got real close, until their mouths were almost touching, a coy smirk on her lips. “I bet it would be hot.” And then she kissed him, leaning back and pulling Kristoff with her until she’d collapsed back against the mattress, him hovering over her, so she could finally get at the zipper of his jeans properly and start pushing them down. “Off.” She demanded against his mouth when she’d moved them as far as she could reach, taking her hands off Kristoff long enough to start removing her own jeans. 

KRISTOFF

He went easily, more than happy to situate himself over her, too busy kissing her to even notice the change in position at first. He wasn’t going to argue — he shifted only so that he could get his jeans off and throw them blindly onto the floor, crumpled in a heap somewhere, probably. He wasn’t really thinking about that either, too focused on getting back to Mitte so he could help to wrangle her jeans down her legs, tossing them to one side as well once they were out the way. 

He settled again between her thighs, running his hands over the soft skin of them, up and over until he came to a stop at her hips, thumbs rubbing over the fabric of her panties. “It would be stupid,” he informed her in the same low voice, leaning down to kiss her again, slow and deep. He pulled back, kissing across her jaw, down her neck, a trail of kisses and gentle nips until his lips met the same material that his thumbs were still toying with. “We’d get in trouble.” He added, speaking the words into her skin.

MITTE 

They were going to have to play catch up in the morning, and Mitte didn’t care one bit. She hoped none of her contacts got back to her and Mr Goodfellow was the most impossible to find man in the world, so they had plenty of excuses to stay cooped up in a hotel in Shanghai, far away from their boss and their real lives. The two things that would put the biggest strain on this. Whatever this was. But of course, they were too good at their jobs, and they’d probably find the bloke by tomorrow afternoon. 

So, Mitte was just going to have to soak all this in right now, and it was easy to focus up, especially when Kristoff dropped his voice again. A shiver ran through her whole body when he spoke and Mitte opened her mouth, intent on saying something cheeky, but he stole her mouth first and her want to antagonise him crumbled under the intensity of their kiss. 

As he made his way down her body the only sounds Mitte managed to make were those of pleasure, soft little moans and catches of breath. Eventually though, her voice did come back. “Are you trying to discourage me?” She asked, voice a touch strangled, as one of her hands found its way into Kristoff’s hair again, "you know how I feel about trouble…"  Her hips shifted of their own accord, impatient for whatever he had in mind to do next, “wouldn’t you like to see me punished?” Mitte pushed up onto her elbows to look down at him, one brow arched. 

KRISTOFF

Yeah, he had expected exactly that reaction from her. He hid a smile in the skin of her stomach, looking up at her when she sat up a little. He could go for the innocent act, he supposed — he was good at playing dumb, usually because he was, in fact, pretty dumb — but it was so much more fun to see the way she reacted to that voice. It was meant to be gruff, intimidating. It was gruff and intimidating. She just liked that, he supposed.

“Sure,” he answered, shifting up a little so that he wasn’t resting on his elbows, hooking his fingers under the fabric of her panties so he could begin to tug them down her legs and out the way. “If I can do the punishing.”

Now that might have been his best performance yet— he didn’t even know where it had come from. Mildly embarrassed, mostly rolling with it, he kept his eyes down, hands running over the inside of her thighs until he could run his thumb along her slit, just brushing over her clit. “And anyways, I’d get in trouble too.” 

Mitte 

Yeah, Mitte did like gruff and intimidating. Kinda funny that she had ended up as one of the good guys, honestly. It was Kristoff that made all the difference. One of the only constants in her life, and one of the good guys through and through. Mitte’s moral compass had a polarity problem, Kristoff was the magnet that brought her back to true north every time she strayed. 

Hey, she didn’t need real bad guys if he could put on the voice and make her feel like she was melting into a puddle on their hotel bed. Mitte lifted her hips a little to help him with her underwear, her eyes going wide at what he said. Oh, yes please. She stared down at him, all hunger and anticipation, but her head lolled back when he finally touched her, pleasure shooting up her spine. 

"If this is how you punish me I'm gonna do something bad every day." Mitte moaned, one of her hands already twisted in the sheets. "Fine." Though she would have enjoyed him being jealous enough to cause a scene, she never liked getting Kristoff in trouble. "No more bribing waitstaff." She sighed, trying to wriggle closer to his teasing hands. 

KRISTOFF

This was so different to last time. Last time had been a flurry of clothes flying off, hands and mouths everywhere, no time for talking cause they were far too preoccupied— this was different. More intimate somehow, and Kristoff wanted to draw it out. He wanted to take his time. The way she moaned, her white knuckle grip on the sheets. He wanted to drink all of it in and commit it to memory, just in case.

He stifled a laugh against the inside of her thigh, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow, teasing circles over her clit, wanting to take his time but desperate to hear her make those sounds again. “I don’t think you mean that.” He said, if only because he knew her — Mitte had a habit of getting herself into trouble.

Deciding he had no more argument to make, he shifted, bringing his mouth down to replace his thumb, humming softly at the taste of her.

MITTE

He was so pretty. Mitte was staring down at Kristoff between her legs, his mouth pressed into her thigh, his blond hair falling into his eyes… And thought he was so pretty. She'd noticed before, obviously, but in this context it made something in the pit of her stomach feel funny. When had this happened? When had how she cared about him become this, and with such ease she hadn't even realised?

She was going to protest- to be surely or seductive, something about being a good girl, that might have tripped him up, but as she was watching him Kristoff dipped his head and the only noise Mitte managed to make was a strangled gasp.

"Kristoff." She moaned, needy and soft as she fell back into the mattress fully again, writhing and rocking her hips up into the pleasure of his mouth. One of Mitte’s hands slid down her body to tangle in his hair and she pulled gently, gauging how he'd like the encouragement.

KRISTOFF

The way she said his name was one thing, the kind of her voice making heat pool in his stomach, but he groaned as her hand slipped into his hair. The grip on her hips tightened just a little, not wanting to hold on too hard but wanting her to know that yeah, she could do more of that. Maybe things were a little less slapdash than they had been last time but that didn’t mean they had to be gentle, either. Not as far as he was concerned, anyways.

He lapped at her clit, tongue stroking small circles around it before he shifted a little, dipping his tongue inside of her just enough to properly taste her, humming low in his throat when he did. He didn’t linger, though, moving his mouth back to her clit so he could slip a finger inside of her instead, looking up so he could watch her as he did his best to make her moan like that again.

MITTE

Oh yeah, Kristoff liked that. Good to know that it hadn’t been an anomaly that first time. (Something that crossed her mind far more often than it should: the way he’d scooped Mitte up and slammed her back against the wall, like he just couldn’t contain himself.) Mitte’s fingers slid against his scalp and she pulled more firmly at his hair. 

Her toes curled as Kristoff pushed a finger inside her, and Mitte tried to be conscious of keeping her noise to a reasonable level, but they’d just have to hope that a classy joint like this had decent soundproofing. “More more more.” She asked- pleaded, maybe, perhaps whined- her hips grinding into his hand and mouth. 

While he teased, Mitte reached around her back with her free hand to unclasp her bra finally, letting go of Kristoff’s hair only long enough to pull the straps off both arms and toss it to the side. 

KRISTOFF

As nice as it was to hear her asking for it, he wasn’t going to make her beg. He slid a second finger inside of her alongside the first, crooking them just a little so he could find the spot that would make her forget all about how well soundproofed the room may or may not be. He couldn’t have cared less, really — if anything, it was good for their cover story.

He looked up again when her hand slid from his hair, already missing the feeling of her nails scratching across his scalp. He was easily distracted, though, his gaze following her bra as it was tossed across the room. Somehow, in his haste to get to where he was now, he had forgotten all about it. Stupid of him, really. Next time (because there would be a next time, there had to be, he was sure of it), he wouldn’t be so careless.

Especially not now, knowing what he had been missing. The urge to shift, to kiss his way back up her body until he could run his tongue over her breasts, take the sensitive flesh of her nipple into his mouth and roll his tongue over it just to see her reaction was kind of overwhelming. He did pull back just a little, though, when he saw the light glinting off the jewellery there. “Are those—“ he was a little breathless, and just a little bit at a loss for words, hair falling into his eyes. The rhythm of his fingers slowed but didn’t stop, pressing into her almost leisurely. “Yknow those piercings have gotta be a safety hazard.”

MITTE

She didn’t have the focus needed to stop the sharp, open mouthed cry of pleasure that Kristoff teased out of her so easily with his fingers, her hips bucking up into the sensation, chasing the feeling that was starting to make the muscles of her thighs shake. God, if he kept this up she’d be a boneless mess before they even fucked. 

Since getting them, she had experienced a range of reactions to the nipple piercings. Kristoff, out to break the mould as always, was the first person to call them a safety hazard.

Mitte managed to gather enough of her wits to huff, hauling herself back up onto her elbows. “If you can’t find something better to do with your mouth than talk about my tits being a safety hazard, I’m putting my clothes back on.” Mitte warned, though the threat was lacking any bite, breathless and wanton as she still was, her hips still rocking into Kristoff’s fingers, all the more maddening for the pace he had slowed to. She cocks a brow at him, a challenge. “Be normal, and tell me they’re sexy, or shut up.” It’s a facade which lasts all of a few seconds before the push of his hand has her head rolling back again. 

KRISTOFF

He knew that was an empty threat; there was no way she was putting her clothes back on, and no way he would let her do it anyhow. Alright, so he hasn’t really meant for that to be his only comment — but excuse him for having his brain short circuit when he learned about the piercings. Had she always had those? Surely not, cause he would’ve noticed, so when—?

His brain was still sparking out trying to comprehend it all so in the finish he gave up, focusing instead on the way her hips rolled into his hand, movements synchronising. 

“They’re sexy,” he informed her, because it was true, they were sexy, enough to hold his attention completely for a few seconds longer before his mouth found its way between her legs again.

MITTE

Now, she was rarely happy to admit defeat, but in this one instance, Mitte gladly conceded to Kristoff. His mouth, his hands, the way he gave her what she wanted. He could win every day of the week if this was her consolation prize. She gave up on the idea of coherent sentences, the warmth that had started to stir in her gut way back when Kristoff had kissed her bubbling all the way up until it was boiling, making her whole body arch and twist in whatever direction brought the most pleasure. Mitte’s hand reached down into his hair again, pulling and desperate as sensations built, her moans reaching a crescendo as she came undone, going very still for just a moment before collapsing back into the mattress, all but boneless and satisfied and panting.

Well, satisfied? Maybe not the right word. Sated temporarily, perhaps. Certainly not finished. The rush of adrenaline made her hands a little shaky, but Mitte pulled at Kristoff’s hair again with what strength she could gather, trying to drag him back up. “C’mere.” She said softly, a bit dazed and blinking up at the ceiling. “Kiss me.” 

KRISTOFF

The hand in his hair and the feeling of her clenching around him, coming undone around his fingers and under his tongue was almost too much. Another thing to try and commit to memory, though; he watched her as she fell apart and then waited for to come back again, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her thighs until he felt the tug on his hair.

He didn’t need to be told twice — he shifted up onto his knees so that he could hover over her, shelter her in with one hand by her head and the other skirting over the soft skin of her ribs. He was already hard and aching with wanting her but when he kissed her it was slow, deep, deliberately taking his time.

MITTE

She had a renewed appreciation for Kristoff’s ability to follow orders so well. Sometimes it was kind of a buzzkill, but she might never complain about it again after tonight. (Or if she did, he’d have to remind her how much she really liked it.) 

Mitte’s hands splayed out on his chest as they kissed, then slid around to his back, where her nails scratched lightly up and down. She hummed her pleasure against his mouth as the kiss slowed for both of them to take a breath, and smiled up at Kristoff, something soft and dreamy that became far cheekier as she spoke. “Can you guess what I want you to do to me next?” She asked, trying to pull him down more firmly on top of her while her hips arched up to grind against his, the hard length of him such a tease against her oversensitive skin that it made Mitte whimper. Her hands roamed down to his boxers, to start pushing them down.

KRISTOFF

The scratch of her nails over his skin made him shiver, the muscles of his back twitching, shifting under his skin. It was enough for him to catch his breath every now and again, pulling away for just a second before he would find himself being pulled back in again, drawn towards her, her lips. He kissed her slowly, almost lazily, as if they had all the time in the world.

They didn’t, of course, but the mission was the last thing on his mind right now. He gave a soft, strangled sounding moan when she rolled her hips up against his, letting her pull him close, firmer as he hovered over her. He knew exactly what she was wanting, and though he didn’t bat her hands away from the waistband of his boxers he didn’t help her either, nipping at her jawline instead. “I’ve got an idea,” he admitted, “but I’d still like it if you told me.”

MITTE

He kissed her and he kissed her and he kissed her and Mitte felt almost dizzy off of it. What would happen in the morning? She didn’t think she’d want to slip quietly out of bed to get dressed and start on their day’s work like last time. She didn’t think Kristoff would let her, either. Not after what had been admitted tonight. Her jealousy, his long held fondness. At least, he’d admitted it, and Mitte had danced around her own emotions as close to the words as she’d been able to get.

Kristoff’s desire to draw things out clearly extended beyond his kisses. Mitte made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, already so thoroughly wound up and writhing. Maybe she had drawn things out long enough, herself. “I was jealous of her.” She said, all of it coming out in one rush of breath, one hand sliding all the way up to Kristoff’s chin to angle his face up to look at her, the smile she wore expectant, “and I want you to fuck me.” 

KRISTOFF

He liked the little frustrated sound that she made, grinning against her skin as he found a new spot to sink his teeth into. He knew he wouldn’t let it, he wouldn’t let this be the last time this happened, not after he had admitted to Mitte how he felt about it, but just in case it was the last time, he wanted to hear her say it. Another thing to commit to memory, just to be on the safe side. 

He went easily when she tilted his chin, his eyes finding that gentle smile and softening. He looked at her for a moment, just a few seconds though it felt like longer, before he leaned down to kiss her again, deep and slow. “Okay,” Was all he said, because it was all he could really manage, shifting backwards until he could pull his boxers off and throw them to one side, taking his hard cock in hand with a low hum.

MITTE

He was her person. That was what came to mind as Kristoff looked up at her. If that was selfish or possessive or over dramatic Mitte didn’t really care, because it was the truth, and they both spent so much of their time dealing in lies. No room for those here, with Kristoff finally shedding the last layer between them.

Mitte stared across at him, her gaze hungry. “Okay?” She repeated, shaking her head as she hauled herself up to reach for him, her arms winding around his neck, “if I didn’t have hard proof I’d be starting to think you weren’t too enthusiastic about the idea.” Mitte was smiling all coy as she shifted back onto the mattress, pulling Kristoff down with her again. It was a good thing she didn’t really want him to be good with other women.  

She kissed him, and in the brief gaps where their mouths parted, “actually- wait.” Mitte put her hands on his chest to push gently, rolling them over ‘till Kristoff’s back hit the mattress softly and she could straddle him. “Perfect.” That was a nice view, for sure, Kristoff with his pretty blonde hair framing his face so nicely, his whole focus on her. She sat up after trailing a few more kisses down his neck, her hands bracing on his chest so she could sink down slowly onto his cock, her head rolling back as she did. When their hips were flush again Mitte was still for a moment before starting to move, nails digging into his skin.

KRISTOFF

He wanted to say something funny about actions and how they speak larger than words, or maybe something about reading between the lines or maybe just anything at all that would make it seem like he wasn’t totally at a loss for words. The truth of it was, though, that Mitte was looking at him with those big, soft eyes, and for a second the desperate ache in his groin was secondary to the ache in his chest, his ribs feeling too tight against the beating of his heart.

He didn’t say anything in the end, only rolled his eyes and smiled like he couldn’t believe her bullshit and then, when she pulled him closer, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. His lips found the pulse point there, thrumming over his tongue, about to suck another mark into her pale skin when she pushed back.

Kristoff frowned, momentarily confused at why she was pushing back and not pulling closer but he went anyways, letting her manoeuvre them. As soon as he was on his back his hands found her waist, one reaching up higher, taking her breast in his hand and squeezing momentarily before he gave a soft, strangled sound. The feeling of her, warm, tight, and wet around him was enough for him to see stars for a moment. “Fuck, Mitte—“ he groaned, breath catching as she rolled her hips.

MITTE

It seemed impossible that she would have forgotten how good he felt, considering how often it had crossed her mind since the first time this happened, but memory really didn’t have the same impact. If Mitte ever really believed that just knowing what this felt like would be enough, being so desperate for him all over again- maybe moreso, even if it wasn’t quite as frantic- sure killed that delusion. She wanted to do this over and over until she knew every contented sound, every muscle twitch, everything about Kristoff in these moments, as well as she knew him in every other. 

“That’s more like it.” She panted when he spoke up again, every breath cut through with soft little whimpers. Mitte moved slowly at first to enjoy the sight of him underneath her, and study the ways pleasure washed over his  features when she tipped her hips just so at a certain angle, let her nails bite into his skin a little harder, trailed her hands up and down her own body. After a while she shifted to lean more of her weight against her hands, palms flat against Kristoff’s chest again, so she could move faster. “Tell me-” Mitte said soft and breathless, leaning down enough to kiss him, interrupting herself because he looked too damn good, “tell me you get jealous. Tell me what you want.”

(Her, obviously, and if he was too pleasure drunk to say anything else it would do, but she wanted to hear whatever would tumble out of his mouth when he wasn’t thinking.) 

KRISTOFF

For a second he didn’t say anything, caught off guard by the change of pace so much that it was all he could do to tip his head back against the cushions beneath him and groan, jaw slack. His hands gripped her hips, her sides, keeping her close to him as he kissed her back clumsily.

“Of course I— I’m always jealous.” He managed to get out, his voice sounding harsh and rasping even to his own ears. He couldn’t quite catch his breath, not with her nails digging into the skin of his chest and her walls clenching down around him as she ground her hips down against his. He wasn’t much of a talker, not really, but Mitte had a way of drawing it out of him.

“Want you,” he managed, reaching up so he could kiss her again, catching her mouth with his own. “Always you.”

MITTE 

Whatever problems came of this, it was worth it. The sight of Kristoff underneath her right now, the feeling of his fingers digging into her hips and his cock throbbing inside her, god, she’d betray everyone and everything she knew for this. Well. Not for the sex alone. But for him, yes. Which was exactly why romances between spies were very much discouraged, but Mitte had never been a stickler for the rules, official or unspoken.

Always he said, and for once she wasn’t terrified of that, of the unending expanse of always laid out ahead of them. “You’ve got me.” Mitte promised against his mouth, breathless as she trailed more kisses down Kristoff’s neck to leave a mark of her own against his collarbone. 

“Oh fuck, Kristoff, I’m…” Words were quickly abandoned as the steady rhythm of her hips started to stutter, and Mitte could do nothing but moan, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she came apart with a shudder. Her motions slowed while she caught her breath but she didn’t stop, pushing gently on Kristoff’s shoulders ‘till he was flat against the mattress again. She let her body melt into his and then she kissed him softly, hips still rocking as her hands slid into his hair. 

KRISTOFF

He looked up at her, his gaze a little hazy, to be honest. Still, he saw the look on her face, the expression she wore. Mitte was an incredibly good liar — they had to be, both of them, in their profession — but he could see through it. He had always seen her for who she really was, and right now she was genuine. She meant it; he had her. She was his. A moan escaped him when he felt her lips against his collarbone, knowing somewhere in the bad of his mind that she’d left a mark there, that he was hers just as much as she was his.

He held her tightly as she tipped over the edge again, coming with a shudder, tightening around his cock in a way that had him seeing stars for a moment. He was so close, about to tell her so but she had come back to him, catching his lips in a kiss so that all he could do was let out a strangle groan. He pulled back just a little way, not far at all, really, feeling her breath against his cheek as he panted into her jaw. His hands found her hips, fingers pressing tight into her skin as he held her close to him. The scratch of her fingernails against her scalp, the incessant rhythm of her hips— he came with her name on his lips, panted into her skin, the feel of her around him, on top of him, the scent of her, the only things he was aware of.

His hands slipped from her hips as he came back to himself, sliding up her sides, over her arms, her neck, to cradle her face. He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, and pulled back to look at her. “You mean that.” It wasn’t a question. Just a statement; letting her know that he knew she meant it. “I’ve got you.”

MITTE She was boneless and breathless and warm, one forearm pressed heavily into the mattress by Kristoff’s head, doing just enough to hold her up so she could look down at him, all of her muscles burning and her head spinning. It was akin to the feeling after a good sparring match. Only if it had been with Kristoff, of course. No one else had ever matched her quite so well. 

It had been true for a long time, one of those things Mitte couldn’t dispute but had refused to acknowledge. He had her. She had said it without pausing to think, yes, but Mitte didn’t feel any less certain as the two of them finally stilled, sated. Kristoff had always been the one to inspire her most honest reactions, the waitress debacle was proof enough of that. The only concerns she had were centred around the agency, and what the reaction would be when this got out. Because it would, even if the two of them did everything in their power to keep a lid on it, and then what? Would they be split up? They did their best work together, neither of them would’ve even taken the job in the first place without the other. 

Kristoff was kissing her again, and Mitte decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. “Who else could ever?” She pointed out softly, relieved her face would already be too beet red for any blush to show through. That too, was true, though it did make the enormity of this whole thing harder to ignore. There was nobody else. “I suppose I don’t have to ask what you intend to do with me.” Her mouth tipped up in one corner in a lazy smirk, and she dipped her head to press a kiss at the base of Kristoff’s throat, settling with her head against his chest.

KRISTOFF

He ran his fingertips over her side as she looked down at him, feeling the racing over her heart as his hand brushed over her ribs. He smiled softly, maybe just a little bit smug. Who else could ever, she said, and maybe he had known it all along but it really was nice to hear her say it out loud.

When she settled against him he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her just a little bit closer. He kissed the top of her head, settling back so that his gaze was tipped up at the ceiling. It would be complicated. The agency would throw a fit, probably. They’d have to fight to go on missions together. But they could make it work; he was sure of that, at least.

“I have a few ideas,” he admitted, smiling to himself, since she couldn’t see it. “We should probably stop the bad guy first, though. Then at least we can say we’re still capable of doing our jobs.” 

MITTE

Bad guy. Right. They had a bad guy to catch, so they were gonna have to do that before they could do this again. Ugh. “Work sucks.” Mitte mumbled into his chest. Were they crazy for doing this? Were they crazy for not doing it sooner? Sometimes, these things really did have to hit you like a grand piano falling out of the sky in a cartoon. A glimpse of how she would feel if he chose someone else. 

“But you’re right.” She sighed, “that’s the first line in the book they’ll throw at us, so if we can handle this quickly it’ll be harder to stop us.” She frowned against Kristoff’s skin, her hands curling a bit tighter around him. “Not that they won’t keep trying.” Mitte wondered what the play was here, if they should out themselves immediately upon return or try to keep things under wraps until it inevitably spilled out. The latter afforded them the chance to sneak around which was fun, but the likelihood of a punishment- and not the sexy kind Kristoff had already claimed an interest in- was high. 

Mitte just… Didn’t want the outside world muscling in on whatever this was before they’d even had a chance to settle into it. But she supposed that was the sensible way to go about things, the proper way. Everyone would figure them out no matter what they did of course, and then it would begin, the comments and questions and bothersome nudges that Mitte truly hated. “...What are we gonna do?” She asked softly, not sure he’d have an answer but searching for something anyway, about more than the next couple of days.

KRISTOFF

Kristoff took a deep breath, casting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment as he thought, his thumb brushing backwards and forwards over Mitte’s skin gently. Of course the agency would hate it – they would never let the two of them work together again. There weren’t very many couples at the agency, mostly because it was a stupid, terrible idea. And Kristoff knew that it was; getting involved with your partner was the best way to make sure that you would eventually slip up, get emotional, give the enemy some leverage over you. And yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“We review the audio you got from Goodfellow’s room,” He said, knowing it wasn’t what she meant. Still, in terms of next steps, that was what they had to do. “Figure out where exactly he is – he must have some kind of meeting set up out here. We intercept, we take him in. And we keep this,” He looked down at her, kissing the top of her head again. “To ourselves. Just for now. Everyone thinks we act like an old married couple anyways,” He added, smiling ruefully. “They probably won’t know anything’s different. We’ll tell them eventually, just… on our terms.”

MITTE

It was strange, how not strange this was. Even last time, when the frenzy had ended and the two of them had stayed tangled together, and Kristoff had been overthinking it so hard that Mitte had practically seen the steam coming out of his ears, she had not for a moment felt uncomfortable in his arms. Every soft brush of his hand now just helped work out the lingering tension in her muscles, and she could feel her eyelids starting to droop. 

“They’re going to have a field day when we eventually tell them…” Mitte sighed, leaning up enough to kiss him again, because there probably wouldn’t be a lot of time to do so tomorrow. Her thumb brushed gently across Kristoff’s cheek as she looked down at him, trying not to picture the teasing. It only meant she’d suffer twice, and she knew he’d be right by her side when it did all eventually have to come out. For Kristoff, she’d endure it. Hopefully without killing anyone. “We should get some sleep.” She said, pouting and surly, shifting some of her weight off Kristoff to snuggle into his side. “Promise I’ll still be in bed when you wake up this time.” Mitte pulled the duvet up around them, and gave him another last kiss, and then another for good measure. “Goodnight.” She murmured against his skin, tucking in real close before closing her eyes and finally letting sleep take her.

KRISTOFF

Yeah, they would have a field day, and it wasn’t just teasing and jokes that he was worried about. Kristoff and Mitte always worked together, and they were some of the best. If anyone could begin to doubt them they were going to do it, try to throw a spanner in the works to get the two of them stuck in an office or chasing petting criminals rather than taking the big jobs. The two of them had worked too hard to get to where they were for that to happen, which was part of the reason why Kristoff wanted to wait. So that they could make sure this was done on their own terms, to prove that it wasn’t going to change anything. They were a team, same as they always had been, just… even more so, now.

He smiled softly at the promise she gave him. He didn’t doubt her, either. He held her close, listening to her breathing go slow and even before he let sleep pull him under as well – they were going to need an early start in the morning.

[copper-russell]

Merry Christmas Carr!

Part 1 of 4 @stellabfly

It’s me, your Secret Santa! And for Christmas this year I have re-imagined your muses as characters in Stardew Valley! Not all of the pets and gifts and locations here are totally accurate but hey I'm sure CA would expand the game to accomodate <3 anyway, without further ado...

STELLA

Birthday: Winter 14 Address: 3 Willow Lane Family: Moon (mother) Pet: Dog Marriage: Yes Loved gifts: Cupcake, Cherry

Biography: Having only recently moved to the Valley, Stella is just about finding her feet in town, and is starting to look for new adventures. There's lots to see and explore, especially when you're trying to get out from your mom's feet, and Stella is up for all of it. Friendly and outgoing, you think Stella is a perfect place to start when looking for new friends, but could your relationship be something more?

[bad-moon--rising]

Cinema History:

Opened in 1982 under the ownership of Mrs. Andrea Marsh, a Gifted Magick transplant from London.

Taken over by Mr. Godfrey and his late wife Beverly in 1987.

Aside from some revisions and repairs after various disasters, the theater hasn't had any major renovations since the Godfreys bought it.

Shows movies primarily from the 1930s-1950s (this will be subject to change when the theater is revamped later in.)

Theater Prices:

Adult Ticket: £8.00

Child Ticket: £5.00

Pride U Student Discount: £7.00

Other Discounts (military, senior, etc.) - £1.50 on price.

Business Hours: (will be subject to change/open on Sundays when the theater is updated later)

Thursday thru Saturday: 10:00am - 11:30pm

Tuesday & Wednesday: 11:00am - 10:30pm

Movie runtimes:

Thursday thru Saturday: 11:00am - 10:30pm

Tuesday & Wednesday: 12:00pm - 10:00pm

Job Info/Employee Info

Cinema NPC Info

Cinema Pinterest Inspo Board

Cinema HCs

Overall the place has that old movie theater vibe; the red carpet, red chairs, brown tile floors. But one distinction is how, while the exterior of the building is concrete/brick the interior walls are wood paneling and the lights are track lighting so it does give a bit more of an older, glamorous look to the place. The appearance has been well maintained, it just isn't very modern.

The building has two floors, it's not a multiplex but it is a large space; the first floor is the business itself, upstairs is a large unused space and the apartment the Godfreys built there, now occupied by Lucky and Scott.

Honestly the place seems bigger on the inside than it should be for the space but people don't question it much and when they do nobody gets a real answer.

There is an ancient, huge popcorn machine that doesn't work but has been around so long nobody wants to get rid of it. So it just takes up a corner of the concessions area and everyone calls it a decorative piece. (It can be fixed but we haven't gotten that far yet.)

Employees have noticed on occasion when they lock up the lobby for the night if they happen to miss one of the doors and go back to check they're always locked. And oddly some have said when they've accidentally let the backdoor shut behind them taking out the trash it seems to stick for some reason so they can get back in.

Sometimes lights around the screening rooms and lobby will turn off when an employee is closing up before they can get around to it. Everyone who has been around a while jokes that it's just Mrs. Godfrey looking after the place.

Event Information

The cinema will host events on occasion; interested parties are encouraged to contact the manager to set up a time to discuss plans. These events can be as small as birthday parties to larger town events because the lobby space is large enough to accommodate fairly well. (please give events to host at the cinema, thanks)

Event coordinating should be handled at least a month before the event. Use of screening rooms, the kitchen/concessions area and the overall lobby space is open to plans. (IC note: if you want to have something small like a birthday just give me a heads-up, bigger events please DM just to sort out the hosting situation/that's the only part I'll be involved really unless you want more involvement from the cinema staff)

Technically since the second floor has a large amount of open space events are possible there too, if you want to plan something large.

Concessions Info

I just took most of these prices from a few current cinemas in the UK and purposely made them lower because Mr. Godfrey hasn't updated things in years.

Basic:

Popcorn (sm/med/lrg) £4.00/4.50/5.00

Typical movie popcorn w/butter, in paper cartons or standard white and red striped refillable plastic versions.

Sodas (fountain drinks) (sm/med/lrg) £2.00/2.50/3.00

Again, just typical in either disposable waxed paper cups or plastics refillable. Behind the counter, employee-served.

Sodas (bottled) £2.00

Kept in a standing glass cooler next to the counter, self-serve.

Water (bottled) £2.00

Kept in the standing cooler with the bottles of sodas.

Candy (Pre-packaged) £3.50

Kept behind the glass counter, various prices, various types because I'm not going to list all of them.

Ice Cream (Pre-packaged) £2.50

Small standing freezer by the counter, various types, self-serve.

Kitchen:

Ice Cream (Machine) £3.00

Cones or bowls, not particularly exciting (vanilla or chocolate) with toppings of various candy, chocolate sauce or caramel.

Nachos £4.00

Basic nachos with the option of jalapenos or not.

Pizza £4.50

Cheese, veggie or pepperoni, those single serve microwave frozen type.

Pretzels £4.00

Large soft pretzels that come frozen and are kept in a warmer in the kitchen, comes with butter or cheese. Also not overly exciting.

Town Disaster Protocol

Whenever safe to do so, evacuation of the cinema to nearby safe spaces is encouraged, this includes both customers and staff. The cinema is not a magic warded safe house currently. When possible staff should lock up before evacuation but if it's a question of safety this isn't an issue; it's always better to leave things unlocked and evacuate from a dangerous situation.

When evacuation is impossible or not advised shelter in place; screening rooms one and two are used for this purpose as they have direct access to restrooms but are still a contained space away from windows, but do include exterior exits if needed.

In case of flooding or other issues where higher ground is safer, evacuation to the second level of the theater will be open to everyone; emergency supplies are stored both there and the first level to shelter in place for extended amounts of time. (But you're going to be eating a lot of candy and popcorn.)

During a shelter in place situation if staff isn't on hand emergency supplies (bottled water, first aid supplies, nonperishable food, blankets, flashlights) are stored in the staff break room, kitchen, and upstairs; notices that explain these locations are posted in the kitchen and break room.

Cinema Floorplan (ignore my awful scaling here):

Ground Floor:

1. Ticket Booth

Standard front window enclosed booth with registers and information about movie times on the back wall.

2. Concessions Area

Tile countertops and glass front cases with prepackaged candy and snacks, equipment on the back counter includes a sink, popcorn poppers, soda machines and a heating case for warm food. The kitchen to the right is fully functional for heating/preparing food.

The kitchen also holds first aid supplies.

3. Staff Break Room

Has tables and a couch, a staff fridge and access to the kitchen if the staff wants to use it. Not anything overly unusual about the space, just a place for breaks/meals.

4. Main Lobby/Event Space

Open space most of the time but it's large enough to host events and does from time to time.

5. Back Restrooms

Basically just what it says. Male/female/gender inclusive areas.

6. Front Restrooms

Same as the above, with the addition of a family/accessibility inclusive restroom.

7. Screening Room One

Smallest of the screening room; 30 seats total in the space.

8. Screening Room Two

Slightly larger screening room; 50 seats total.

9. Screening Room Three

Largest screening room in the cinema; 110 total seats.

10. Screening Room Four

Standard screening room, 90 seats total.

11. Screening Room Five

Standard screening room, 90 seats total.

12. Projector Booths

Situated in the back of each theater and accessible by the staircase in the hallways between rooms for the larger screening rooms and directly in the back of the smaller ones, overlooking the screening room itself and where the projectors are kept and run.

13. Cinema Office

Mr. Godfrey's office next to the back stairwell upstairs.

Upper Floor

1. Upstairs Apartment

Accessible via the stairwells inside the theater. Was formally the living space of the Godfrey family since buying the theater but now Lucky and Scott live there since Mr. Godfrey has moved to Castle Suites. Most people (for plot sake this means anybody not specifically told) aren't aware the apartment is there and just think it's a separate storage area. Although it is listed as a residential area with the town board like the other business-linked apartments in town.

2. Storage Area

Mostly general storage for the theater, also where film reels are kept between seasonal runs.

3. Storage/Open Space/Future Plot Things

Yup. Potentially a business collab space after the theater is revamped.

4. Storage/Open Space/Future Plot Things

Once again these are future plot points. (But pls offer suggestions if you have an idea!)

[ianthedisastrous]

NAME: Ian Lightfoot

GODLY PARENT (IF APPLICABLE): Athena

AFFILIATION: (Alumni 2012 - current) Alumni chair since 2021

SPECIES: Demigod

ABILITIES: Minor Audiokinesis, weapon proficiency

WEAPONS/ITEMS: Throwing knives. He also has an ornate ivory and silver pen with a carved owl feather design that transforms into a sleek larger dagger if needed - a gift from his mother from a quest years ago.

BIOGRAPHY:

(CW: death, panic attacks)

Wilden Lightfoot was not expecting a goddess to show up at his doorstep one otherwise ordinary afternoon, nor did he expect the day to end with an infant in his arms, his eldest son staring wild-eyed at his new tiny brother. But Wilden believed in things most people thought too impossible to be true, believing his son was conceived from a conversation and born of the curiosity of a goddess was hardly outside the vast realms of possibility.

But magic was harder for Ian to see when his father became ill, when he wasn't even old enough to reach his hand to hold beside the hospital bed. It went away entirely when that bed became empty and the boys drifted back to their little Detroit apartment with nothing but each other.

It was enough, in some ways; eighteen was meant to see his brother off to college but Barley never complained about seeing Ian off to elementary school instead before his job, or spending his evenings inventing games for the two of them to bring back some of the magic their father used to see everywhere.

Ian spent plenty of afternoons patiently waiting for Barley to get home when work ran late, nestled in a corner of the couch with a book or listening to one of his father's recorded lectures from the classes he taught at the nearby college before he grew ill.

And then one day Ian came home to strange low, rumbling, animal sounds and never saw the creature that was waiting on him in the hallway but he felt it, right down to the jarring scramble, the overturned table and the sudden, blinding pain that left him dazed. Everything after was blurry; other sounds, other voices with his eyes squeezed shut, that throbbing ache in his skull, hands over his ears trying to shut it all out.

It felt like the end of the world.

Thankfully, it wasn't. But the monsters didn't disappear, there was just a different one waiting for him when he could finally pry his eyes open; a strange creature with horns who looked an awful lot like someone he'd always seen around his neighborhood, urging him to his feet, urging him to leave, speaking about gods and monsters and everything Ian wanted to push away.

He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, everything closed in around him.

When it all came back into focus he was alone in his bed, one eye still shut behind bandages and his jaw aching with to-be scars he would carry from that night, the hushed voice of his brother in the other room, a stranger's voice, talking about him, about leaving and how the things in the dark would never stop chasing him unless he did.

How they would come back, because of him.

Looking back Ian isn't sure what urged him to run, maybe he just couldn't trust the stranger, maybe he couldn't face anymore monsters or the idea of his brother being harmed. Something did, and he went, on his own, unprepared and frightened, but certain there was no way back to normal again.

Ian Lightfoot was not expecting to find his home in a camp full of demihumans and satyrs, nymphs and a host of other impossible creatures. Once, he would have thought the fear was impossible to escape.

But impossible never really was, not only because his godly mother’s open, curious mind is something he shares with her but because his father helped him believe it, the older brother he still visits helped him survive, and a lot of other people helped get him to that place after harrowing months alone on the streets because of his own foolish choice to refuse that first offer, too afraid to do anything but run.

But it is, and he's come to love it, to love the half siblings he meets each year as he remains, to take pride in his mother's name and the weight of it, and joy in Tony's music and laughter during campfire nights they entertain the youngest campers together with songs and stories.

He found shelter during a war he only fully understood after the dust had settled and purpose he grew into by being there, in guiding and helping the new kids, in calmly reminding the familiar faces not to test his mother's name *too* jokingly in his presence, and in just belonging.

The world outside moves onward, but Ian doesn't miss it much. In his books, in words, he finds his way back and forward in the same breath; his curiosity is never fully satisfied but it's tamed in quiet moments letting the pages teach him new things and revisiting the old.

With the reunion underway he's more resolved than ever to uphold his mother's name with pride, and eager to see old friends return with the stories of their lives out in the world, and new faces with new tales to learn.

[vvinter-queen]

NAME: Elsa Idunadottir GODLY PARENT: Hypnos AFFILIATION: Camp Counselor  SPECIES: Demigod ABILITIES: Can induce sleep and hypnosis, retrieve and alter memories, and dream walk while sleeping

TW: Death, decapitation, gore (very brief tho)

The first dream Elsa ever visited was her sister’s.

She’d heard Anna’s cries even through the haze of sleep, piercing and sharp and incredibly loud for a toddler. It had hardly taken more than a thought for her to slip into her sister’s dreams and change the shapeless, terrifying forms of her nightmares into soft toys and plush snowfields perfect for playing. Anna quieted before their mother could make it to the nursery and slept peacefully through the night.

Elsa had been nine years old.

The first memory Elsa ever saw was the maid's.

Gerta had flown into the kitchen, crying and flustered, while Elsa was studying at the kitchen table. She had collapsed into her brother’s arms and Elsa had joined Kai in his efforts to comfort her, stroking the soft skin of her arm. When she had asked “What happened?”, the memory had risen up under her touch, playing out in front of her mind like a movie reel. She’d dropped a tray and Agnarr (never ‘Father’, Elsa had learned that lesson young and she had learned it well) had yelled at her to the point of distress. Elsa smoothed the edges of the memory until they weren’t as sharp and hummed to calm Gerta’s hiccupping cries.

Elsa had been twelve years old.

The first monster Elsa ever saw was a harpy.

She’d been out playing in the snow with Anna on one of the few occasions Agnarr was too distracted to keep them separated, the two of them skating together on the frozen fjord. Elsa had seen the woman first and had called out to her, warning her of the thin ice, when she had attacked the two sisters with a screech. The illusion blew away like smoke and Elsa had scrambled to try and get her little sister to safety. She was eventually able to decapitate the monster with her skate after forcing her into unconsciousness, but not before Anna had been thrown into a tree at the edge of the lake by the monster. Elsa had run back home with Anna, tiny and cold and unconscious in her arms, sobbing the whole way and crying for their mom.

Elsa had been fourteen years old.

She was sent to Swynlake by Agnarr shortly after. The smell of fish off the fjord couldn’t hide her anymore, and the longer she stayed in Arendelle, the more of a danger she was to her sister. She went willingly, accepting her banishment and leaving with the satyr that came to help her make her way to camp. When the night had fallen on her first day in camp, Hypnos claimed her as his own and suddenly Elsa had a whole cabin of new half-siblings. She fell into the familiar roll easily, missing her mortal sister the whole time. 

She went on her first quest when she was sixteen years old.

She made the decision to stay at camp as a counselor, watching over the youngest campers, when she was eighteen years old.

She saw Anna again when she was nineteen years old.

Elsa was thirty now, well-settled at camp and happy with the way her life has turned out. She’s excited to see some of her old campers return and reunite with friends from her own time as a camper. And maybe get some help with a certain obtuse cyclops she’s been pursuing…

[pall0r-mortis]

NAME: Sid Philips

GODLY PARENT (IF APPLICABLE): Hephaestus

AFFILIATION: Alumni (2013 - current)

SPECIES: Demigod

ABILITIES: Technokinesis

BIOGRAPHY:

(CW: Child abuse (past), injury, death)

Sid has never been anything but bold.

It was a survival necessity, right from the time he was old enough to understand his father's anger would always spin towards him, and he did learn that so very young. A man with so much wealth and notoriety in the medical field, and such shockingly little patience for his son, so little respect for his wife's success; Paul Philips was never fit to be a parent.

Sid tried to remedy the mistake as soon as he could start formulating plans to run away; he didn't belong there. But they always brought him back. They never listened. Home was not home for him.

He likes to think it was his real father looking out for him when one of his attempts to run led him right to a winged horror, snapping teeth, and a sudden realization.

He really didn't belong there.

The creature that found him - a satyr, he found out soon enough - was surprised. But Sid had been cultivating a talent for hiding all his life; it served him well when the beast came hunting for him. Nobody saved Sid, he saved himself; and he already knew the answer before the question was asked.

He was going home.

He went to his father.

Not the mortal man who had snapped his wrist in a fit of anger before it told him he was useless with the same regularity most parents say I love you, his real father. A god, a being who had never known him so had never forsaken him. The one who claimed him, the one Sid has worked hard to make proud.

That was where he belonged.

Sid never left. Why would he?

He has freedom he didn't before, he can build, he can enjoy the simple pleasure of creating with his own hands, melding and crafting and constructing what is needed, and whatever strikes him to. Hard work has never bothered him, he thrives there, meticulous, unwavering. It's a strange thing to feel content some days, but he is.

And the monsters don't frighten him, he knew plenty of those with human faces before, so he can handle the ones with claws just fine. In fact, Sid can handle a lot. He went to war without blinking, a child still, because every effort to shelter him in camp he ignored. He played no resounding part perhaps, but his cultivated talents served him well; he was impassively vicious when need be, detached, always a survivor. He returned when some didn't, and he accepted that was just the cost.

In the years since he's realized that cost was too high and has grown cold towards the gods who stir up war, but he is his godly father's son; his will is iron if it must be.

Sid remains at camp; most of his time is spent fixing things his less focused siblings break in their eagerness to create, or directing the newcomers around the cabin with a non-nonsense air. Because he wants to keep the monsters at bay for them, he wants them to survive. He wants to see some of the horror in their eyes fade faster than it did from his own.

But if any of his siblings happen to catch one of the younger ones running around camp with some intricate clockwork toy in hand, huddled together laughing over some gleaming trinket fit together with springs and scrap metal by a particularly talented hand, they know he'll only shrug off the questions about what he does so many late hours alone in the cabin workshop.

Maybe the cost of the years past have begun to add up in his mind; he sees too many mirrors of himself in the broken children who often arrive only to watch them fall later, far too many times.

But he can't save them, he knows; they have to save themselves.

He isn't as warm as he is direct, but he's learned to temper his anger away from the youngest and picks his fights with those better suited to matching his ironclad opinions and sharp tongue. He enjoys it, actually; sometimes the pressure builds so hot under his skin it has to go somewhere.

People returning back to camp to celebrate an old victory feels laughable to him, but ultimately he doesn't care; the gods like the attention and if it keeps them from starting little squabbles it's less hassle for him.

[superhiro-hamada]

NAME: Hiro Hamada 

GODLY PARENT (IF APPLICABLE): Hephaestus

AFFILIATION: Alumni (2016 - current. Graduated 2022)

SPECIES: Demigod

ABILITIES: Technokinesis

BIOGRAPHY:

(CW: Death, injury, depression)

Hiro's brain always ran too fast. Didn't matter what he was thinking about, always too fast, endlessly too fast. He excelled academically and failed entirely at being able to relate to anyone around him. Because he was too young, too smart, too loud, too reckless. Always too much of something. Always. 

When a weirdo with horns showed up and Tadashi left, Hiro thought it was all some dream until it wasn't, until his brother was gone to some camp and was the kid of some good guy named Hephaestus? Then it was too real, and Hiro waited for Tadashi to return. He kept himself busy, he waited, he turned his intense intelligence towards finding that camp, but he never could, he waited. He waited. 

He waited forever, it felt like. 

Then one day he wasn't waiting anymore. Something was waiting for him on his way home. Something right out of a horror story. He won't forget the howls of the hounds soon, if ever. But he was fortunate, despite his injuries, because help still came, even if it came just a little too late to escape the scars, the wounds that took months at camp to heal and a year before he was back on his feet. 

Not whole anymore, but when Hephaestus claimed his angry child maybe that was fortunate too. His father was, after all, one with his hands in the fire and his wisdom in crafting mechanical wonders. Who better to rebuild what flesh and bone couldn't repair? 

Once again, Hiro waited. While he healed, while Tadashi was away at a war he couldn't follow him to. And then, Tadashi didn't come back and Hiro lost something he couldn't put a name to. Worse than the scars, worse than his leg, even worse than the parents he barely remembered before his aunt took him and his brother in. 

Even their godly father couldn't fix that, couldn't bring Tadashi home, and Hiro wanted to blame him. Wanted to blame Bones for forbidding him from following after his brother. Wanted to blame someone because it wasn't fair! 

But nothing was going to change that. 

Hiro tried, endlessly, to involve himself in the war, but he was so frightfully young, so utterly ill equipped for it back then; he still loathes admitting it but Bones probably saved his life on more than one occasion simply by keeping him out of that battle, and the trouble he went hunting for once the war was over. He knows, he does, but it's hard to voice. Because Hiro never stopped looking for something to destroy in return for everything he lost. 

He still is, but these days just throwing himself into fixing things around camp, inventing vicious new ways to fight the monsters that snatch campers on their way to that safe spot, it's never enough. But that doesn't mean he'll ever stop. 

As people return to camp again Hiro watches them curiously, waiting to see if there's more going on than pointless games and competitions. He doesn't want to earn his father's favor that way, not playing games, he wants to earn it by destroying the things that threaten the camp; he wants to be ready if the gods have some ridiculous argument and start another war.

He won't be stuck on the sidelines again. 

[stellabfly]

NAME: Stella Butterfly AGE: 25 PRONOUNS: She/Her GODLY PARENT: Apollo AFFILIATION: head Arts and Crafts counselor SPECIES: demigod ABILITIES: Photokinesis, archery adept, slight healing ability

BIOGRAPHY:

Stella grew up knowing she was a demigod, like her mother before her. She was always told about the gods, about the monsters that lurked and hunted the children of the gods. Her mother trained her from a young age in ways to defend herself and keep herself safe in the world. She knew one day she would attend Camp Swynlake and train with others like her, in order to protect herself and those around her.  She was nine when she first went to camp, which was early for most in her position, but when her mother became the Alumni Chair for her House, that’s when Stella started attending. And she loved the camp. She loved sparring with the other campers, she loved playing in the fields. To her, the training was fun, it was something she was pretty good at too. She was adept with a bow and arrow, and as she grew up, she developed photokinesis. She found how to manipulate the light to make small illusions from colorful lights like fireworks to small moving pictures.  She was eleven when the war began. And when the battles came, Stella was all too enthusiastic to help fight for the camp. There was a moment in the battle for Swynlake that she was up against an enemy far stronger than her. She got cut down in the battle, scarring her face and taking her out of the fight. Until the battle was over and in the aftermath, she spent time behind the lines, assisting with minor healing.  Between her time graduating from camp and now, Stella has gone back during the summers (sometimes staying longer) to run arts and crafts. She loves helping the next generation of demigods feel at home in this place that she loved growing up. 

Some headcanons:

She changed her last name to butterfly when she first came to camp because she was embarrassed that her mom was an alumni. 

She has scars on her cheeks from the battle for Swynlake. 

Has some enhanced musical abilities from her godly parent, but wouldn’t call it a power or anything like that. She feels like almost all her half siblings have some of that, too. 

Is definitely a little ray of sunshine that tries to brighten everyone’s day. 

[menodoramoon]

NAME: Menodora Perhonen, or Moon!! GODLY PARENT: Iris AGE: Forty-five AFFILIATION: Staff (Alumni Chair, Iris Cabin; part-time Arena Attendant), Blue Team SPECIES: Demigod ABILITIES: Photokinesis, Mild Chromokinesis BIOGRAPHY:

&& ----- It's hard to be a demi-god. And it can be trickier still to be a demi-god who has had an affair with a god. ----- &&

Menodora was from a decently noble family. The family dynamic was a bit unbalanced though, as it were. She was raised by her stepmother, mostly, as she was the daughter of her father and the Goddess Iris.

Her father didn't stay around, her mother was busy being a goddess of messages and rainbows and some amount of light. So for a long time, it was just Menodora and her (step)mother. She learned the classics, sword-fighting, and a good deal of physics to understand light. Why? She didn't know, but it must be important.

About the time she was ten was when she noticed her vision had been flickering. She was seeing light how she shouldn't and questioned her sanity. By twelve, she was at Camp Swynlake, excelling at Pegasi riding and some good sword and shield training. Even learning how to manipulate light and some degree of color... She loved it all and devoted herself to camp, becoming a year-rounder and doing her best to make the Iris cabin as 'home' as she could for all her siblings, making them welcome gifts and baking them treats. She was Head Counselor from 1995-1997, before 'graduating' out and trying her hand at the real world.

The real world was less pretty, admittedly, to Menodora. She tried to go back home, but everything in the political world in her stepmother's family was so much of a wreck. And far more strict than life in the Iris cabin felt like. The Iris Cabin felt carefree. The real world felt heavy.

It was in what Menodora considers a moment of weakness that she fell into bed with a man from an art exhibit. She'd gone to relieve stress and ended up in bed with a golden haired stranger. A God, it turned out...

Apollo...

That night ended with Menodora as a single mother, raising Stella. Oh, how cycles repeat.... She trained Star as best as she could, following a lot of steps her own mother had taken. When Star was nine years old, Menodora had been offered the Alumni Chair of the Iris Cabin. And so... The real world became a bit of a blip and Menodora and Stella moved to Camp Swynlake.

Stella lived in her father's cabin, a fact that haunted Moon -- ha, funny -- while she looked from afar. But it seemed like Star was having fun! So who was Moon to protest anything?

Well, she could Protest the war, couldn't she? And the fact that her ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD was fighting in it?

Her loyalty to camp, but specifically her care for her daughter, led Menodora to fighting for on the side of the Gods during the Second Titan War. After the victory, Menodora tried to keep her head up and focus on the positives. She welcomed each returning and recurring camper with open arms and welcome baskets and homemade granola and cookies and blankets. She also acts as an arena attendant at times, specifically with swords and shields.

Headcanons & Plotting Ideas:

She doesn't always see eye to eye with her relatives, but she does her best and it really is what matters.

Menodora might be a bit of a granola mom <3, a Care-n, a Sweet Kathleen of the PTA

She's a single mother with a twenty-five year old daughter!!

If you're a friend of Stella's, she may have adopted you. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

Avoids stepping foot in the Apollo Cabin. That--- mmmm, recipe for disaster.

[amelia-o-gabble]

MASKED BANDIT APPREHENDED!

----

Amelia Gabble

----

A swath of minor break ins in the Southern Isles have been cause for concern for residents and the local Sheriff’s Department since February of this year. Since late winter, low value jewelry and some household items have been stolen, leaving the owners befuddled and scared. While nothing too valuable had been taken, the invasion alone was startling for resident, Gilda Longshaw, “He didn’t take my grandmother’s jewels, but it felt like while it was all going on I had to keep Mr. Tumnus locked up to keep him safe!.” 

Evidence of the thieves had only left investigators stumped. The burglaries were done in the quiet of the night and left minimal damage to homes and other high value possessions. Luckily for the residents of Swynlake’s Southern Isles, Sheriff Harrington and Deputy Keaton have apprehended the perpetrator! It was none other than the infamous Raccoon King. As the Raccoon King is a native Magick to Enchantra, his sentencing was handed over to the Great Prince. Though we have been assured that his reign is over in our little kingdom. 

@prince--thomas @trackedbymaximus

[majkemaniiia]

NAME: Majke de Spell, or Magica!! GODLY PARENT: Hermes AGE: Forty-five AFFILIATION: Camp Staff SPECIES: Demigod ABILITIES: Control over subtle wards, control over locks, and mild charmspeak BIOGRAPHY:

Magica always knew she was different from the rest of her family, but not in the ways one might expect. Her half-brother was a son of Athena, who forwent camp and decided to strike out on his own for 'nobler' ambitions. Magica, for all her bookishness and cleverness, thought she would be much the same.

Only, when the time came for her to choose to go to camp... her family revealed to her that she wasn't exactly who she thought she was. She was a child of Hermes, the god of travelers. It was a long-forgotten, long-forgiven one night stand that led to her conception. An accident, though not a regret.

Still, Magica couldn't stand feeling that she had been lied to all her life and became a year-rounder at camp, known for being one of the more ruthless Hermes children. She made a few enemies in her camp years that have since been forgiven in their older age.

After 'graduating' camp, Magica traveled a bit, encountering other demigods more than she expected.

Despite not 'having a maternal bone in her body,' she did feel that these children deserved more. And so... she came back and applied to be Activities Director at Camp Swynlake.

She focused on efficiency, more than care with the campers. Over time, though, she did warm to them. Even found them enjoyable to spend time with.

Though she originally was somewhat ashamed of her Hermes lineage, she decided to embrace it. Travelling really was the thing that made her feel the most free, and why not embrace the part of her that enabled that?

When the Second Titan War came, she fought on the side the Gods. She had been tempted by a pretty word or two from Kronos's speeches, but it didn't overrule her care for the camp.

Now, year-round once again at the camp, she denies that she has a soft heart. She pretends to be unaffected by the returning and graduating campers... only she does miss them. And is so glad when they return.

It's why she's secretly poured so much into the Alumni Weekend. But don't tell her you know she cares. She'll deny that too.

[zerohallows]

NAME: Zero Hallows

GODLY PARENT (IF APPLICABLE): Hypnos

AFFILIATION: Returning alumni (2011- 2019, left a year, returned in 2021)

SPECIES: Demigod

ABILITIES: Hypnokinesis

BIOGRAPHY:

(CW: Mention of war, trauma)

Zero didn't need a satyr to tell him that he wasn't the same as most people; he'd had his entire life to solidify that fact in other ways; his unconditionally upbringing, his transition, his family unit. Zero never saw his life as typical, but it was entirely his own. And it wasn't a bad life at all; traveling, watching his father on stage, his mom's thriving photography career, his dad always busy writing some scientific paper or another about the local flora wherever they happened to end for a few weeks.

It was, in fact, a great life. It was the life he was content to live until he started his own, some day.

Always someday. Zero had never been in a hurry.

Life was though, for him. Because he wasn't ready when a stranger showed up at the campfire one night after a weekend festival, he didn't know how to process what was being said to him in the firelight glow alone while his parents busied themselves with turning in for the night.

The night, the stars, the evening glow; they stood vigil as Zero learned just how different he was.

And what it meant for his family.

Sleep found the Hallows that evening with Zero saying goodnight just a little longer than usual, hugging his mom just a little tighter before he settled in and watched the lights dim out in the little traveling camper that was home. But it didn't find Zero, because he knew he couldn't let something else find him later and risk his family.

He left his parents to dream, with a note and a promise he'd come back when he could.

Camp wasn't bad, it wasn't the open road and new places, but it was new people, new experiences, and yet another parent to add to his list of them. That one so woefully absent all his life; he had two perfectly good fathers already and they hadn't abandoned him.

But he had abandoned them.

Despite his ire towards his godly father Zero learned, he studied, he came to understand the power of memories, the somber healing touch of sleep, and he became something different. Mostly he became quiet, steady, watchful over the younger siblings he found himself with at camp, wary of those who held the glint of terrible memories in their eyes.

It wasn't until the war that he truly understood the horror of those memories and how they could ruin a person. He didn't fight, he wasn't going to fight; he didn't believe it was a fight his role would make any difference in. So he stayed at camp and he watched people return with wild eyes and pain eating them alive. He turned his attention to learning how to reach for memories and soothe them, how to wear down the sharp edges.

He devoted his time to giving those broken souls a hint of peace, knowing he couldn't heal the horrors inside them but he could make just a little less saturated, the memories a little less vivid. It was never enough but as he exhausted himself with the effort it felt like something.

He turned to his talent as an artist to weaving those memories into images on paper, to allow people to face them on their own terms, to drain some of the terrible power they held over their minds.

Heroes were made for war, he was made for the aftermath. Madness didn't frighten him, not anymore.

When he turned eighteen he stayed a bit longer, it was hard to walk away when every day newcomers came in with their nightmares and painful memories, but he couldn't stay forever. He still had a promise to keep.

So he left, he found his family and they welcomed him. His mother knew, of course, his fathers missed him; in some ways it was all okay. In others it couldn't be the same, he knew that. He wasn't the same. They went back to their travels and Zero sought a quiet spot, he turned to drawing and he illustrated beautiful, haunting images of memories half forgotten.

It wasn't long before he had a life for himself, a small one but he didn't want much else. Then he realized something was urging him back, so back he went. He didn't leave again, now and then he'll step out briefly with some whim in mind but home is like a candle leading him back time and time again.