#these are a few months old and kind of wonky but I need to share my no.6 fascination even though it’s died down now. it’s literally so good

[girlkomaeda]

watched the no.6 anime thought it was kinda bad in a fascinating way so i read the manga and it was actually so good it made me feel crazy now I am currently working on reading the light novels....

[little-diable]

Pen Pals - Tommy Shelby (smut)

Boy, do I adore working on fics with @zablife – thank you for adding your beautiful touch to this fic and for writing Tommy's letters. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy and the reader have been pen pals as teenagers, though ripped apart by the war. Now, as she is trapped in an abusive marriage, she finds Tommy's old letters again, and she can't help but wonder if he had made it home from war, and if so, could if he could be the helping hand she's desperate for?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, mentions an abusive husband and a gun, a very happy ending

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (5k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

(Y/n) could still remember the call she had found in the paper as she had been a young teen, asking children and teenagers from the United Kingdom to send in their addresses, to find pen pals they could practise writing with. She had been filled with excitement, and even though her father had told her to not follow the call, undoubtedly worrying about the mail they’d receive, she still had run all the way to her post station to send off a letter, asking them to pair her up with a pen pal. 

It had taken weeks for the first letter to arrive, addressed to (y/n) in a slightly wonky handwriting, introducing himself as Tommy Shelby. Back then she hadn’t even dared to guess the kind of friendship that would form between her and Tommy, the young boy from Small Heath, a city she has never been to before. 

Ever since Tommy had written that very first letter, (y/n) had started to share her deepest secrets with the boy, confiding in the one she’d eventually fall for, without ever meeting him. But life hadn’t been kind to the two, ripping them apart before they could have even tried to grasp the chance to meet, before she or he could board a train to finally cross the endless hours laying between their homes. 

War had been cruel, to both their families, killing innocent lives before they could evolve into the people they were destined to be. (Y/n)’s heart had ached in her chest when Tommy’s very last letter had found its way to her, saying goodbye to the woman that had been by his side for the past years, at least on paper, one with the ink soaking through the expensive paper they’d steal from their family members close by. 

She had collected every letter he had written, stored away in a box she hadn’t opened in years, long forgotten like the words she had once known by heart. Within the first few months of the war people would talk about for decades to come, she had found it too painful to think of Tommy, wondering if he was still alive, breathing in the smell of gunpowder, of dirt and blood. The mere thought of said vile mixture had brought tears to her eyes, clutching the fabric of her blankets when she was laying awake late at night. 

The years had passed and with those years the memories of his letters had faded, allowing her heart to make peace with the ghost of old times she had run from. It was almost ironic how she had found the wooden box again, trying to hide the gun she had bought from a man down the street, needing to find something she could use to protect herself against the man she had married, one with the alcohol he’d pour down his throat, with the money he made from gambling, and the anger he’d unleash upon her in moments he’d call ‘moments of weakness’. 

Her hands had trembled as she had grasped the first box she could find hidden in the back of her closet, freezing she felt the all too familiar wood beneath her fingertips. Tears had welled up in her eyes, fingers stroking along the outlines of the box before she slowly opened it. The gun had been long forgotten, placed on the ground next to her kneeling frame as she started reading the letters, mind racing, just like her heart.

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) reached for the last letter she had received from him. She could still feel the pain his words had unleashed upon her, forcing the young woman to accept that he may never write to her again, buried with those that left their homes with hopeful hearts and strong minds, set on winning the war. 

“Dearest Y/n,

 I am writing to thank you for your last letter and the photograph you enclosed. It will surely bring me comfort when I am far from home. I must admit that I have been thinking of you often as I prepare to leave, knowing we will not be corresponding as frequently or perhaps at all. I never realised how much my happiness depended on you and the words we exchanged over the years. I know now that you’re the only girl who has ever mattered. 

Take care of yourself whilst I’m away. I will do my best to return if only to see your lovely smile in person one day after this war has ended. 

Yours, Tommy”

While her heart screamed at her, cursing (y/n) for forgetting about the man she had once planned to marry, crossing the country to make her way to him, her mind started questioning if there was even just a slight chance of Tommy being still alive. Perhaps it had been her own moment of weakness, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from searching for a piece of paper and some ink, starting scribbling down words she could barely read with the tears blurring her vision. 

“Dear Tommy, 

God, it’s been years, hasn’t it? And yet I can still remember the endless hours I’ve spent pressed against the window of my parent’s living room, waiting for your letters to arrive. How oblivious I’ve been, too naive to understand that life would rip you from me. For years I’ve tried to make my peace with the thought of you amongst other fallen soldiers, but it seems as if the pain has never quite subsided. 

Sometimes I catch myself dreaming of the life we could have shared, the house we would have lived in and the children we could have had. An easy life that now seems more far away than ever before. Perhaps it’s foolish of me to rip open the wound that hasn’t properly healed, but just the slightest chance of you still being alive seems a price worth paying. 

The naive child living inside of me is hoping for your reply, anxiously awaiting the darkening truth to be revealed. But if you’re receiving this, know that I’ve never stopped loving you.

Yours, (y/n)”

For a moment she had debated telling him about the situation she found herself trapped in, the loveless marriage she was a hostage of, but she didn’t have the heart to do so, scared that somebody besides Tommy would read the letter. And so she folded the paper, staring at it for a few moments before she rose from the floor of her walk-in closet, praying to whoever was listening, that the old address of his would still be the right one. 

…

Weeks have passed since (y/n) had sent off the letter, using the address she still knew by heart, a shot in the dark that would probably never be returned to the light. It had been foolish of her to write the letter, forcing her further down memory lane, a path she couldn’t retreat from, stuck in the emotions her younger self had carried deep inside of herself, loving a man she hadn’t ever touched before, a man she hadn’t ever spoken to before, only knowing his handwriting and the thoughts plaguing him. 

And while (y/n) had spent most of her past days trapped in her thoughts, her husband had found his way back home, drunk off his mind, smelling of places women like her wouldn’t be allowed to enter. Fear simmered deep inside of her, mixed with the slightest bit of hope, praying to God that Tommy would reply, or at least somebody who knew of Tommy Shelby. 

It was early in the morning by the time her doorbell went off, forcing (y/n) out of bed with trembling limbs, arms slung around her waist to try and shield herself from the cold of the morning. Slowly she moved towards the door, opening it just enough for her to take in the body on the other side of the door, “Morning, (y/n), here I thought this may be of importance to you.” 

A letter was pushed into her outstretched hand by the postman, sharing a slight smile before she murmured a “Thank you, Frank”, watching him move away. Her heart picked up its pace, eyes staring down onto the address of hers that had been written by a handwriting she didn't recognise. Slowly but surely the daunting realisation began to settle in, this hadn’t been written by Tommy. Times may have changed, but if there was one thing she was certain of it was Tommy’s handwriting. Was this what she had been fearing? Was he no longer human but bones and rotten flesh? 

Tears welled up in her eyes, making it harder for her to see as (y/n) found her way back to her empty bed. She stared at the envelope for a few moments, trembling hand wiping away the falling tears. It felt worse than she had imagined, a pain so biting, she felt bile rise in her throat. A pain that was guided by her anger, anger addressed at those greedy men that have ripped millions of people from their families, greedy men whose decisions have forced Tommy to part from their evolving bond. 

A deep breath was exhaled as (y/n) opened the envelope, careful not to destroy the parts that had the address of the sender written on them, an unfamiliar street she hadn’t heard of before. Her trembling fingers unfolded the letter, freezing as she read the first few words. 

“Dear Miss Y/L/N, 

I apologise for any delay in correspondence as my secretary is unfamiliar with this address. 

Of course, I remember you and the years of our acquaintance before the war. As you say, much has changed with time. I’ve a business in Birmingham, Shelby Company Limited, as well as several race horses which occupy my time. I cannot give quite so accurate an account of my time in between as you have done. My memories of the war and the subsequent years are not pleasant ones. However, I confess I keep your photograph by my desk as a reminder of simpler times when the world was a better place. 

It is my hope that you have found happiness in your life. I am told it is a choice one must make for themselves though I still seem to be deciding. Perhaps I should flip a coin as I would have done in the old days? 

Sincerely, Thomas Shelby”

He was alive. Tommy Shelby was alive. A sob wrecked through her, followed by another. (Y/n) pressed the letter against her chest, holding it tight as if she was hugging Tommy. A man that had changed like the tide rolling in, a man who had left behind his happiness on a warfield, a man who no longer addressed her by her first name. Changes (y/n) didn’t care about, rising to her feet in a frenzy, this was her chance. A way out. 

(Y/n) didn’t worry about the chances of Tommy pushing her away, didn’t even think twice about the what if’s, the chances of him not wanting to meet her. She had been desperate to find a place where she could hide away from her husband, and if Small Heath – the city she had been supposed to move to years ago – was her calling, she’d follow it blindly. 

Clothes were thrown into her old suitcase, not caring what she was packing, too focused on the racing of her heart, the blood thumping through her veins like alcohol. A blind happiness that drowned out the sound of her bedroom door being pushed open, exposing her stumbling husband. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/n) froze, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before she slowly turned towards him. He was drunk off his face, could barely balance himself, God’s timing seemed to be perfect, he’d pass out soon, giving her a chance to blend in with the dark morning. “I asked you a question, woman.” 

“I,” (y/n) stumbled over her words, fisting the fabric of her thin dress as she was wrecking her brain for a lie to distract him with. “My mam’s sick, I need to visit her for a few days, you know how she is, I can’t leave her alone.” 

He stared at her for a few moments, either too drunk to notice the tremble of her voice, or too distracted by the tiredness clinging to him. With a nod thrown her way, he found his way to their shared bed, no longer paying attention to her movements. Relief flushed through her, guiding her through the next moments, closing her suitcase, and with one last glance thrown at her husband, (y/n) pulled her ring off her finger, placing it down on the small reading table placed next to their door. 

The morning was cold, a sensation her busy mind paid no worries to, wrapping her coat tighter around herself. Slowly her doubts began to resurface, doubts that distracted her from the dark path to the train station, hoping that she wouldn’t have to wait long for the next train she could take, leaving this very life behind. 

Her eyes found the dark ones of the ticket seller, smiling at the grim looking man, “I need a ticket to Birmingham, please.” 

…

As a teen (y/n) had imagined the very first time she’d make it to Birmingham, to Small Heath. Back then she had been filled with excitement, a giddy feeling that had left her insides churning, wondering how it may feel to hug Tommy, wondering about the places he’d show her. Naive dreams that had evaporated into a cloud of anxiety, a cloud she was now trapped in. 

It had taken her hours to find her way to the streets of Small Heath, but even though the day had turned into evening, (y/n) felt no tiredness clinging to her fleshcage, no exhaustion she was slowed down by. No, by now her confidence had passed, turning into worries that ate her from inside out. Would he even want to speak to her? Would he accept her, or force her to turn away?

With every further step (y/n) took, clinging to the address she had found on the back of his letter, the worries began to grow. A part of her screamed at (y/n) to turn around and leave, to forget about this trip and to tell her husband that her mother didn’t need her help. But her curiosity forced her to keep on moving, till she came to halt in front of the house the address had guided her to. 

Trembling fingers were balled into fists, knocking on the heavy door with a deep breath exhaled. There was no turning back, no way out of this mess. She counted the seconds fading by, wondering who’d open the door. (Y/n) knocked again after a few moments, taking a step back as the sinking realisation began to broaden in her system. Only as she turned away from the door, shoulders slumped, legs suddenly feeling heavier than before, the door was ripped open. 

“What do you want?” A man had opened the door, presumably younger than she was, and yet his eyes carried something that made (y/n) wonder what cruelties he had been forced to see. 

“I’m looking for Tommy Shelby.” (Y/n)’s words were quiet, nothing more than a whisper, and yet he seemed to pick up on them perfectly fine.

“Why? What do you want from him?” Her eyes flickered down to the letter she was holding, wondering how to explain to the man that Tommy Shelby was the lifeline she was clinging to, needing to be pulled from the soaring waves before she’d drown. 

“I’m an old friend of his.” While (y/n) was looking for more words to speak, trying to find a way to beg the man to guide her to him, he kept studying her, gaze focusing on the letter she was holding. It took him a few moments to reply, taking in her tired features before he stepped out into the evening, taking her suitcase from (y/n) before she could speak up.

“He’s down at the Garrison, I’ll bring you to him, ‘m John.” 

…

“I can’t do this.” (Y/n) froze as they arrived at the Garrison, eyes set ahead on the entrance. Should she really do this? Was this the right decision? She didn’t even know what Tommy looked like, hadn’t ever received a picture of the man she had once planned to marry. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you’re an old friend of Tommy’s?” John alighted another cigarette, curious eyes not wandering from her features. On the way to the Garrison they had exchanged a few words, getting to know one another, even though he hadn’t asked any questions about her relationship with Tommy, not one question had been wasted on the man’s name. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” (Y/n)’s eyes found John’s, sending him a sad smile that was frozen on her lips as his hand found the back of her shoulder, giving her a slight push forward. 

“Don’t you worry, ‘m sure he’ll be happy to see a pretty face like yours.” Before she could even try to inhale another breath, (y/n) was pushed into the pub, taking in the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that lingered in the air. Her heart was pounding, not able to pay attention to the greetings thrown John’s way, wondering if Tommy was any of these men. Would her heart recognise him before her mind would? 

“Look at that, John, did you finally find a woman interested in you?” A man with a prominent moustache spoke up, arm finding its way around John’s shoulder, pulling the man against his chest. Too many curious eyes were focused on (y/n)’s frame, making her feel rather uncomfortable. But while she tried to find comfort in her coat, hiding away from their gazes, John shook his head, murmuring something about Tommy to them. 

“A friend of Tommy’s, eh? Alright, come, let’s bring you to him.” The older man took her by her wrist, a gentle touch (y/n) couldn’t focus on, realising that she was truly about to meet the man she had once known better than her friends and family members. No words threatened to leave her, lips pressed together as the man guided her through the pub, coming to halt in front of two smoking men. 

Piercing blue eyes found hers, and something inside of her clicked. She tensed, unable to inhale any air her aching lungs were desperate for. Time seemed to stand still, earth had stopped rotating, no longer guiding her through the passing by seconds. 

“You’ve got a visitor, Tommy, says she’s an old friend of yours.” It truly was him. The man with piercing blue eyes that reflected no emotions, a stoic glance that could freeze hell. The other man sitting in front of Tommy rose from his seat, nodding at him before he blended in with the other men, making room for (y/n). 

Silence engulfed the three of them, seconds Tommy used to take in her frame. Did he recognise her? She had changed over the years, looked nothing like the girl in the picture Tommy had apparently kept close, but if he felt the same pull she was currently feeling, he must know it’s her, guided by the heart that had been broken one too many times. 

“Leave us alone, Arthur.” The man squeezed her wrist before he parted from them, sending Tommy one last curious glance. Tommy reached for a cigarette, alighting it before he pointed his hand towards the empty chair. Her trembling limbs forced her to sit down, unable to speak up with her dry mouth. “Flipped a coin, you know, wasn’t sure what it was trying to tell me, but I guess I finally have my answer.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology bled from her lips, eyes not daring to move from Tommy, taking in the handsome face she’d never be able to forget again. “I’m sorry for just turning up like that, but I needed to take my chance, even though I’m a few years too late.” 

“Does your husband know you’re here, (y/n)?” She froze, wondering how he knew of the man she had left behind, even though she wasn’t even wearing her ring. 

“He’s no longer my husband, at least I no longer want to call him that. You know, I thought you were dead, no further letters have found their way to me, my mother told me to move on, to marry before I get too old. But ever since your last letter I’ve felt everything but happiness.” Tears welled up in her eyes, she fumbled with her fingers, feeling pathetic and yet overly relieved to finally be in Tommy’s presence. 

“Small Heath is no place of happiness, and it’s certainly not safe for a woman like you.” (Y/n)’s throat began to tighten up, unable to bite down the anger simmering inside of her, not understanding what he meant by his words. 

“I’m safer here than I’ll ever be around my husband.” It took Tommy a few moments to reply, finally realising why she was fleeing from her home. He stubbed out his cigarette, rose from his seat and stretched his hand out for (y/n) to take. Shudders ran down her spine, feeling his skin pressing against hers for the first time, an unfamiliar sensation Tommy also seemed to be distracted by for just a fraction of a moment. 

“Let’s get you home then.”

…

“Drink?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, taking in Tommy’s office, the books her fingers ached to touch, the paintings her eyes couldn’t stop admiring. She felt awfully at peace, finally calm enough to exhale the built up pressure. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t imagine that being at your place for the first time would play out like this.” Her chuckles left him smiling, staring down into his drink before Tommy took a sip, leaning against his desk. 

“How did you imagine it?” Her eyes found his, hand tightening its grip on her glass as she took a step closer towards him, just close enough that she could easily touch him, if the alcohol would give her the confidence to do so.

“I don’t know, I guess young (y/n) didn’t worry about anything but finally being with you. God, I was ready to leave everything behind for you, and if I’m honest, I think this is one of the few things that has never changed over the past years.” His hand found her side, pulling (y/n) against his chest before she could begin to understand what Tommy was doing. He was holding her close, chin placed on top of her head, arms slung around her middle. Both deeply exhaled as if all weight had finally been lifted off their shoulders, no longer carrying the pain the past years had unleashed upon them. 

(Y/n) lifted her head off his chest, eyes finding Tommy’s, wordlessly communicating the love that has never subsided, forever etched into her racing heart. His eyes flickered down to her lips, making her awfully aware of their closeness, a thought drowned out by the feeling of his lips meeting hers for the first time. For a moment both froze, minds unable to realise that they were finally kissing. 

He tasted of alcohol and cigarettes, a taste she’d forever remember, a taste she’d take to grave, cherishing every part of Tommy, even on her deathbed. He was the darkness she’d walk through, rising with the shadows he had once sent to hell, calling him home once his time was running out. 

Her gasps urged Tommy on to add more pressure to his touch, hand finding her chin to keep (y/n) in place. The kiss was unexpectedly sweet and soft, not rushed by the endless years they’ve spent wondering about this very moment. (Y/n)’s hands found the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on his roots in a desperate need to deepen the kiss.

“You have to be sure about this.” Tommy murmured the words against her lips, eyes even more piercing than before, finally giving away the whirlwind of emotions he was stuck in. His fingertips danced along her sides, gently caressing her skin through the thin fabric of the dress she was wearing, sticking to her limbs since this very morning. 

“I’m more sure about this than about anything else, are you?” Her whispers left him chuckling, forehead pressed against hers to release a deep breath.

“I’ve waited for this moment for years, of course I’m sure about this, about you.” Another kiss was shared between them before Tommy interlaced their fingers, pulling (y/n) towards his bedroom. The giddy feeling she hadn’t felt for years began to fill her, an emotion so familiar and yet so new, making her blood grow warmer, filling every inch of her body.

They came to halt in front of his bed, eyes not daring to break contact as he pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, falling to the ground to expose her naked chest. He took his time admiring her, eyes wandering up and down her frame, not able to break down the small smile widening on his lips. Impatient as one can be, (y/n) pulled him closer, hands working on the buttons of his vest, finding its way to the ground with his shirt soon following. 

“I want to take my time with you, love you properly like I should have done years ago.” His raspy words left her trembling, only able to nod her head. Slowly she sat down on the mattress, crawling up the bed with Tommy following her every move, lips finding back together as he towered over her. He kissed his way down her throat, sucking on her skin, leaving marks he’d renew with every rising of the sun. Cold hands explored her chest, tugging on her hardening nipples, wanting to coax every sinful sound from her swollen lips. 

“Don’t ever stop touching me, Tommy, promise me.” Her whispers filled the room, words caught in her throat as his mouth replaced his fingers. (Y/n) arched her chest further against him, high on the feeling, not once had she been touched like this before, not used to being treated like a woman that deserved to feel pleasure. 

“I promise, even if it may be the only promise I’ll ever keep.” Tommy’s mouth moved further down her body, hands tugging on her panties, exposing every inch of her body to his wandering eyes. He cupped her heat, felt her arousal dripping from her tightness, body begging for his touch, needing to feel his hands on every part of her. Her moans rumbled through her, guided by her pleasure, the unfamiliar desire she had to adjust to. 

His mouth found her bundle of nerves, a touch that left her gasping in surprise. Not once had her husband wasted his time on pleasuring her, not once had he used his mouth on her, a sensation so intimate, (y/n) was grateful that she got to share her first time experiencing it with Tommy. His eyes found hers every now and then, as if he was checking in to see how she was feeling, if she was enjoying the way he was touching her. And great heavens, she was. 

“Feels so good, fuck, never been touched like this.” Her confession left Tommy smirking in pride, grateful that he was the one to push her into the soaring waves of her orgasm. Two of his fingers teased her entrance, giving her a moment to stop him should she feel uncomfortable, but (y/n) didn’t dare speak up, too caught in the web of pleasure he had spun. He fucked her slow at first, fingers moving in a steady pace, before he began to build up the pressure, curling them against her swollen spot. 

Her moans grew louder, walls clenching around him, not able to stop herself from giving in, calling out his name as her first orgasm of the night flushed through her system. Tommy gave her a few moments to cling to the feeling before he pulled away from her, watching her panting frame while he undressed, exposing his naked body to hers. He was gorgeous, a perfect man made for her only, a man she’d never willingly part from again. 

Tommy interlaced his fingers with (y/n)’s, staring down on her as he pushed into her, a movement that coaxed a heavy moan out of the both lovers, needing to adjust before he could start fucking her. It felt like their bodies were made for one another, one with the love they’ve shared for a decade, the love so intense it had never managed to fully let go of them. 

(Y/n) searched his lips, drowning out the sounds that left her, swallowed by the kiss that left both panting. Her eyes fluttered close and for a moment (y/n) felt like her teen self, remembering all those nights she had spent wondering how being with Tommy would feel like, how he’d touch and love her, but nothing would ever manage to describe what she was truly feeling in this very moment.

A moment filled with love and adoration, a moment so perfect no human mind would ever fully grasp it.

His fingers found their way back to her pulsing bundle, pushing her further into the darkness he had her trapped in, wanting to see the pleasure tugging on her features once again. (Y/n) choked on his name, eyes squeezed shut as her second orgasm rocked through her, robbing her of any strength lingering in her system. 

Tommy kept moving, chasing his own high as his eyes watched his cock disappear inside her tightness, coated in her arousal. The sight left his cock twitching, about to release himself on her walls. He managed to pull out just before his orgasm would rock through him, jerking himself for a few moments before he painted her thighs white, letting go with a deep moan.

Both were panting, bodies searching one another, not fully realising that the past moments have truly just happened. They still had their fingers interlaced, not daring to let go just yet, not even as Tommy reached for a tissue to clean her skin, not even as he alighted a cigarette to fill the quiet bedroom with blue smoke. 

“There were times where I thought I may have found love again, and yet it had never been the same love you’ve managed to make me feel with your letters. I’m not a good man, (y/n), I’ve done things worse than you’ll ever be able to imagine, but I’m selfish, I won’t let you leave again, not when I finally have you to myself.” She rose from her position, body fully turned towards Tommy, and with her lips kissing his once again, (y/n) murmured a soft “I won’t leave you, not now, not ever”.

[nerdhut]

My old junky car is probably done for and I'm feeling emotional about it.

Without telling my whole life story, the context is my parents got a '99 Saturn SL in 2010 in anticipation of me driving. A few months later I started, and it's been my primary vehicle since then. I still live with family, so all the vehicles are shared to some degree.

It's honestly a piece of crap these days. It's been totaled (rear-endedl twice, we replaced the engine over a decade ago, one of the doors can't open, exhaust gets into the cabin, it smokes from the oil it burns when pointed downhill, the hvac is fucked, the electrical parts have been going wonky. It's all kinds of terrible.

Last year I was temporarily upgraded to a different vehicle and just started getting used to it when we had to reshuffle and I went back to the SL.

Tonight part of the rust that the rear suspension attached to gave out. Obviously, it wasn't especially safe to drive before, but now it's impossible to ignore.

It's clearly something that we need to get rid of. I can't quite describe the kind of sadness I feel over the thought that I'll probably never drive it again, though. It's my first car, and despite its problems, a damn reliable one. It's the only car the family has ever had that never left anyone stranded away from home.

[benefits1986]

YE 2023 Countdown: Story Lines > Story Lies

Show. Don't tell. That's how worthwhile stories ought to unfold.

Feelings Management 101 is now in my book. It's not easy but if I want to nail down my "14 going 40" life peg, I'd have to train my protein-deficient social and mental muscles in time for another social construct called NEW YEAR. Let's add subtopics in this rubric so that I don't fall into the trap of overthinking, for a change.

Today is a holiday, I think, but I'm on wellness leave; so, I just had a super "go with flow" day because I usually plan my leaves down to my shot list and numbers of rum/whisky shots taken, too. Since, this day is quite curious, let me try to show how it panned and dollied. CHOZ.

Story #1: Passenger Seat Princess Dashboard Confessions I shared that my 4th anak-anakan was the one who convinced me to go to ina and ama's humble home for Christmas. She asked me to be her passenger princess since she is a student driver. She invited me for brunch in Muni Coffee because she knew I'm getting back to IF after feasting on a whole lot of decent holiday food that doesn't involved spaghetti, macaroni salad, fried white tilapia or ina's famous menudo ng angkan.

I slept for 7 solid hours which is a pleasant surprise as I'm trying my best to refocus my lens that has been wonky for a few months, already. Honestly, I need this break to prevent the 12 out 12 signs of burnout. I asked her if she wanted to review so I could squeeze in even 4 solid hours of work, but, she choked me. LOL. She told me that she'd also run errands and that she'd need me to be with her.

Of course, I said yes, because why not? As we were passing through the balmy roads of ina's sleepy town, we had a real talk without the filters. I asked her how she is, really and this time around, I actually answered her: Ate, "kamusta ka ba talaga" question which I usually evade and divert. She was taken aback when I told her that her luwas to Manila is actually a trigger turned glimmer. I thanked her because that timeframe reminded me that my life is not as crappy as I thought it was. I also told her that her 100% trust with my meager existence is something that keeps me more alive. Of course, we had a good dash of bashing, but I told her that I'm learning a lot from her Gen Z brainwaves. LOL.

Even when she knows that she's the tamer version of wild child, scattered brain, brain fog me, she's allowing herself to embrace emotional maturity way better than me at 23. LOL. Ang lala ko kasi talaga nung 23 ako. HAHAHAHAHA. She also asked me super specific questions that I'm not gonna TMI because, kahihiyan levels 100000.

Honestly, she is my kind of "uncut" journal, too. Medyo lume-level na siya kina soul sis and Ju sa mga puwede akong ma-blackmail levels na 'to. LOLOLOLOL. But, I'm not threatened because she is my safe space when it comes to certain topics that are super ugh.

Syempre, dinaldal na naman ng tatay kong magaling ang Japan trip ko and seryosong if I have the funds and she has the time, I'd take her to Japan with me. HAHAHAHA. E busy na siya sa Q1 since she's off to med school preps. Ako naman, super specific lang din ng budget because medyo mapapalaban tayo ng malala sa JaFunds pero ready naman tayo kahit munti. LOL. Hotel bookings from travel buddy paganaps are super sulit because maganda location. HAHAHAHAHA.

I know, one day, we'd spend 2 weeks in Japan and by then, she's closer to giving me a legit med cert for whatever it is that I'd like to officiate. LOL. Kidding aside, seeing my 4th anak-anakan in her element even if she's stabilizing her body chem, the pressure of being the first doctor sa angkan, her ate-daughter duties and all the things in between, I know she's gonna make way better choices than I did ages ago. I'm kinda living vicariously through her, too.

#2 Kids Say, Do, Feel, Think The Darnest & Darkest Things Since my three Gen Alpha cousins think that I'm 27 years old, I almost flipped. LOL. Ganun ba talaga ako ka-immature? Hahahahaha. They feel like they can just invade my space and don't feel sorry for them or for me. LOL. I find it funny that even when I'm RBF, they seem to come too close whenever there's a window of opportunity.

Mga 3 hours max lang talaga kaya ng pake ko, but, this holiday kagulo with them hits differently. First, I gifted Vi her second violin. It's a hand-me-down from a super good friend who migrated to get married and have a kid. This violin is a reminder of my first ever encounter with an actual hold up. LOL. I did a few lessons, but, I didn't push through as I remember the scenes with every fiddle. The mom of Vi almost flipped because the price tag is kinda steep. I told her that "pahiram" lang naman 'yun. HAHAHAHAHA. Violin-teacher approved because the former owner, my super good friend actually played it for a short while.

Second, Vi is so weird because she kept smelling my pits as she's trying to sleep. Sabi ko tigil niya kasi 'di pa ako naliligo. Sabi niya: Why do you smell so good? Sabi ko naman: UHM. NO. Weirdo kasi si Vi. As in. Artsy e. But, you know why I don't want her actions and her comments? I smell mother dragon's pits when I want to lambing and go to sleep even when I was a full adult na working na. LOL. Ang weird pala nun noh? A while ago, I didn't get triggered which is so refreshing. Small win ko 'yan. Allow the emotions to flow instead of constricting them and CTRL + ALT + DEL them.

Third, my Virgo baby girl (VBG) who's dalaginding middle child is a tough cookie. Medyo kakaiba 'to kasi she and my brother share the same birthday. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Dad teases me na kamukha ko 'to nung bata ako pero payat siya. :p VBG is super moody to the point that it gets off the roof. Very Virgo, very like my brother especially during his early days. You know what calms VBG? Hugs and words of affirmation --two things I abhor. :D But, I've learned that kids who have fucked up mood swings usually feel overstimulated and/or overwhelmed. Hugging her and affirming her even when I feel like a total idiot reminds me of my childhood in a way. As a millennial Tita, I think and see the difference of this approach. It's not easy, might be counter-intuitive to a lot of people, pero wapakels naman ako since wala namang masamang sumubok. She threw a good round of tantrums because she was teased yet again by my brother and her mom.

I gave her space and tried hugging her. I told her that I'm just by her side and that she's a sweet, gentle, smart baby girl. Aba, nakalma. HAHAHAHAHA. 'Yung pagiging middle child niya kasi is medyo sagad. 11 months apart lang sila nung bunso. Ayun, tantrum volcano eruption averted and nahatid namin pauwi ng maayos sa bahay nila since maaga pa silang lalarga bukas.

Third, my binatilyong cousin (Le) who's the only thorn among the roses, is shaping up. He's no longer the bully brother kahit paano. He was actually the one who started my age reveal and he failed miserably. Akala raw niya talaga 27 lang ako with matching wide eyes and mouth opened wide. Le is a thinker and a competitive doer. Siguro kasi siya lang lalaki and he seems to have this thirst to be the kuya when he's but the second child with an ate (my 4th anak-anakan) who's super straightup na strict na RBF. He seems to have a girlfriend na and I'm really glad to see him in a more confident and caring chapter. HUHUHUHUHU. Syempre, mga jokes nilang magkakapatid medyo graphic na graphic. Matic lang sa kanila na DIE as a joke. Sabi ko tigil nila 'yun kasi it's a bad joke. They learn it from YouTube raw and it's a joke, a common one. Sabi ko naman, tigilan nila kakanood ng kunwaring kid-friendly channels.

Kids. I think is not my cup of tea nor my goblet of sangria, but as I told my 4th anak-anakan, if magkaroon ako, TL 'yun. GG pa. TL = true love. GG = God's Gift. JUSQ. I have yet to get my check up again kasi mas madali pa rin for me to go to the menopausal route para tapos na talaga 'tong topic na 'to. :P Mas madaling magiging negotiations and zero chances na ng inception.

#3 The Box of Chocolate and Crate of Lemons Called Life

My tito (Eu) chose to stay in ina's home instead of having a trip with his whole family. His reason: Fighting the gravity pull of his advanced CA. Tito Eu has been battling this bitch for 3 years in no less than Singapore's National Cancer Center. It is a bloody fight and I've been trying to reach out to him more often even when this reminds me of Tito Taurus quite a lot. The thing is that, Tito Eu is dad's "best rival" ever since they were hunting down firewood and getting coconuts at a young age together. By best rival, I mean, 'yung magkapatid na onti lang years agwat and basically outsmarted each outher nung bata. Dad naman is not competitive unless triggered, so, I try my best to help him look after Tito Eu. Dad said that he's not ready to lose another family member to CA.

Tito Eu is a strong force to reckon with. LOL. But, what I like about him is that he wants a healthy debate and is open to a super unfiltered talk. The past months, he's more vocal about how he really feels and this is something that I hope to happen more and more. Since he flies non-stop to get treated and tested, our time to catch up is not that much. I guess that this is another way for me and dad to face death as friend rather than a foe through Tito Eu.

He knows that he's but a ticking time bomb and that his expiration date is just around the corner. Since he's an adrenaline junkie, dad and I egg him to do shit that would make him more alive which are: skydiving, bungee jumping, getting a pimped 4WD pick up and the like.

It's heartbreaking to hear him share that he's feeling the pull of his battle as he's been losing weight because of poor appetite. From 102 kgs, he's now at 100 kg, real quick. I'd try to squeeze in a roadtrip with him if he's up for it in the coming days. When you see him, he doesn't look sick at all, maangas pa rin 'to e. My only hope is that he'd be able to make peace with the things that he's worried about; so he can focus on his graceful finish. Easier said than done, but I know and feel that this sad story is a story of hope and total surrender. While at it, I'd like dad and I to have more open conversations about this topic, too.

#4 Mothers Know Best/Mothers Know Nothing Moms, moms, moms. The world is made and destroyed by moms. LOL. Having a mom is tough. Losing a mom is way tougher; even when it can be "good riddance" at the core.

Moms are usually given a report card that they didn't sign up for, but did anyway. Seeing my titas and cousins who are living the mom life up close and from afar is weird. It's kind of expected from moms to know so many things and know best even when they are clueless about answers and questions, too.

Moms also know nothing because there's no graduate program or even a handbook for this super specific role. However, moms signed up for this and they try their best to embrace all the facets and fuck ups that go with motherhood in the hood.

Losing mother dragon and ina is a game changer. Even when the celebration in ina's house is above average, the menudo and white tilapia of ina are irreplaceable. I've been gently asking my angkan one on one about how they're coping and damnnnnndamin all over and over and over again.

I guess, this is me trying my most challenging empath/wounded healer era to date. While at it, I am also able to come closer to how I didn't grieve mom's loss since 2012. It's always on WIP but now, steroids doesn't trigger me as much. Palliative healthcare topics don't burn me inside out. More importantly, I'm slowly growing into a headspace that's brewed the right way.

I want to go on and on and on and on, but I'm choosing to end this here and now, for now. Catch you later?

[trashy-corvian]

Sorry to bother you ;-; I'm feeling not good and I really missed Chaotic Bastard Simeon, do you have any headcanons and/or stuff to share? (If not its fine you don't have to I'm so sorry to bother you I love your art) I hope you an amazing day and staying safe!!!!!🤍🤍

Hey, nothing to be sorry for! thank you for your kind words dear

Now, sorry in advance if these are wonky, English is not my first language and I've never written headcanons before.

Simeon Headcanons:

Heaven life, as we saw, really restricting. You need to perform to your best and be the "holy" emissary of God. As such, you can't show many negative emotions such as envy, anger, etc.

Simeon is OLD he survived in Heaven and still manages to hold a prestigious position he was even allowed to be a guardian for Luke.

But as we saw in the game he is not so perfect and holy and Diavolo even says that he can't read him.

It is a perfect starting ground for a character analysis but we are here for a bastard part.

Simeon is PETTY. It's not difficult to piss him off but good luck finding it out in time.

It shows more in Devildom and Celestial Realm because he needs to keep his image. That's why we mostly see emotionally open Simeon in Human World. He can relax a little without any officials watching him.

Petty Simeon ahead:

He is bad with technology but he's not THAT bad. You will be spammed with random nonsense because ha "caught a bug", he will drop all your calls because "he accidentally keeps pushing the button".

One of the brothers\MC let a curse word slip in front of Luke and proceeded to receive pamphlets from "Celestial etiquette Club" for a few months.

Now a personal headcanon of mine. Simeon is a DM(Dungeon Master) for dnd group of Solomon, Luke, Levi, and MC.

He's a great DM being a professional writer and all. But sometimes he lets his little grudges slip...

Simeon: The priest tells you how the old greedy sorcerer calling himself Man of Peace or Shlomo stole their special food used in their morning rituals. he asks you to find a man and bring him to justice.

Solomon: ...

MC: So basically we kill this old magic man for stealing their breakfast food?

Simeon: That's correct.

Levi: *muffled giggles*

Solomon: Simeon, we talked about this.

Simeon: I have no idea what you mean.

Solomon: I didn't know these pancakes were for you! I apologized to you and Luke and even prepared a special breakfast!

Luke:*shudders at the memory*

Simeon: And we forgave you. It's all in the past now, can we go back to the game? You are to punish this wretched man who ignored the realm of spiritual and defiled the temple and took the food lovingly blessed and prepared for these priests.

Solomon:... Why are you like this?

[mandoalorian]

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed. 

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that  much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem. 

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you. 

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work. 

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes. 

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point. 

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug. 

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s. 

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled. 

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt  a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.” 

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental. 

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best. 

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home. 

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly. 

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…” 

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile. 

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both. 

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders. 

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.  

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up  -  July 2020 (੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Redeem Me by Samayel

Two years after the events of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco stumbles back into his life. Harry is a bitter and vengeful young man, Draco is a walking wreck...and who is helping who? Rec post 1, 2

Under Pressure by VivacissimoVoce

Harry Potter has quit magic and left the wizarding world. Draco, a top-notch Tracker, has been hired to find him and save his life. Rec post

Solder by Oakstone730

Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past. Rec post

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself. Rec Post

Dwelling by aideomai

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better. Rec Post

Now My Neck Is Open Wide (begging for a fist around it) by LadySlytherin

Six months post-war, Harry meets Grayson Wenke, a famous Quidditch player. Harry believes he's found the love of his life, and a Happily Ever After ending suitable for the storybooks. When Grayson slowly goes from Prince Charming to a monster behind closed doors, Harry finds himself trapped, and alone, and fearing for his life. When Harry realizes he's pregnant, the opportunity for escape - and a real Happily Ever After - presents itself as none other than Draco Malfoy. The only question is if Harry is brave enough to take a chance, and strong enough to heal. Rec post

Of Fates Entwined: A Story of Love Lost and Found by taradiane

Harry Potter vanished without a trace from his home on a warm summer morning in June 2004. This is the story of how a random visit in a cafe on the other side of the world, six years later, proved that the ties which entwine our fates together can never be broken. Rec post

Conception of Dreams by FreakingCrups

Waking up naked in Malfoy's bed without the memory of what happened the night before is the least of Harry's problems. Malfoy is an Incubus and Harry is his mate and that one night comes with consequences: a conception. Now Harry has to get to know Malfoy on a deadline, while dealing with Death Eater threats. Sounds like another exciting year at Hogwarts for Harry Potter. Rec post

A Big Black Sky by AlexMeg @alxmeg

Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky." Rec post

Some other fics you might enjoy - (੭ु˙꒳˙)੭ु⁾⁾*✭

Slithering by astolat @astolat

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out. Fic RecArt post

Modern Love  by Anonymous (written for  H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all. Our Love Song -  Harry and Draco enjoying a Sunday morning bus ride in London.  Don’t miss this amazing art that pairs perfectly with this fic!

Returning Tides by Anonymous (written for  H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless​

Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Art piece to accompany the fic ‘Returning Tides’, based on the song claim, 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' by Joy Division*****Harry's brooding while straddling a motorbike. Need I say more?

Blond Brew by Anonymous (written for  H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless​

A blond roast with soy milk makes Draco's morning, but a pair of green eyes makes his week.

A Different Kind of Meaning by Anonymous (written for  H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless​

The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning.

It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

Isolated Thunderstorms and Scattered Showers by Anonymous (written for  H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless​

Post-war, Harry needs space. Everything is too much all at once, and time and time again, he finds himself pulling the invisibility cloak over his head, just for a bit of peace.

Returning for eighth year is hard, especially when you're considered a war hero, and your name is Harry James Potter. It's just that things go a little wonky when Harry starts following Malfoy, and finds that he can't (or doesn't want to) stop. ( Gift fic for meeeee!  ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) ♡ ) 

Thanks so much for reading and following! I hope you enjoy all these! I look forward to sharing more recs with y’all! 

xoxo Carey 💜💙💚💛🧡❤💕💖

｡ﾟ✶ฺ.ヽ(*´∀`*)ﾉ.✶ฺﾟ｡

[laynemorgan]

I'm sure you've already provided it, but I'd be curious to hear your road to becoming a staffed writer. What first got you interested in it? Does it go back to school days?

Man it goes back far. I mean, I guess in some ways it doesn't. Since you asked more about what got me interested in where it goes back to, I'll give you the lest technical and more biographicl explanatin. My first goal was just to become a writer. I've been writing since I was a really little kid. I actually recently found journals from like the elementary and middle school days just filled with them. And it was never small scale, I'd always be planning out the whole fucking setting, how all the characters were connected, full universes. I made a fake fantasy. land in my backyard because my parents live on a lot of land. I called it Teleterania. I remember very little about it besides that that was the name hahah but I did do it!!! Everything I read only made me want to write. Everything I watched made me want to write.

Sometime around late middle school and early high school, I started watching more TV. I found soap operas and was OBSESSSED with their flare for drama. I found BTVS, Charmed, Smallville, Veronica Mars, OTH, etc. And all of those shows really got me actually looking at TV in a way I had never before. I got obsessed with their worlds and into their fandoms. I became the liek TV guy in my high school. There was even a group of girls I never got to really hang out with that would always call me over to their table to ask about what I knew about OTH stuff hahaha and 17 year old me thought that was awesome. Before my sister passed away, she and I took a road trip down to North Carolina to tour the One Tree Hill set. OTH was like the one thing that she and I agreed on. And it was so awesome. For me it was a first look at what the industry actually looked like, to see the sets and what went into it and all of that.

But I don't think my eyes really opened to actually WORKING in tv until college. I went to school for English Lit and Creative Writing in New Hampshire. My school had a great writing program and I was right at home there. i still credit my first writing professor who was only a grad student for really teaching me what I know about writing and editing and reading my own work for error and she passed me on to her favorite professor which was a hugely flattering moment for me. AND THEN -- I fell in love with PLL. And for me, that was really where shit started. I didn't realize it at the time and it wasn't even the show that did it it was what the show showed me. Through my tumblr at the time which had very little to do with fandom, I actually wound up running into Patrick Adams and Troian Bellisario. We all were always sharing each other's posts and at the time I was working for a journalist covering random TV out of a shitty free magazine in Boston doing work for peanuts. But I was going out to LA to meet up with a friend and we all decided to meet for lunch and they let me interview them for my magazine and stayed really rad people. They also helped boost my PLL photo recaps which I was doing at the time and those got the attention of the Director, Normal Buckley who asked me out to coffee and talked to me about my goals and what I was doing. He was the person who first really helped me understand that there's an approachability to the TV world that to me had always been this like magical hollywood bubble I didn't understand.

I went home THRILLED about LA, dropped out of college and set out to go to film school. From there, I hated film school because it was too technical adjacent, dropped out again, spent all the money I had on that move twice, and went home to boston broke and lost. I spent two years after that maybe more saving money, working in fandom, and waitressing while I went back to college online. That era wasn't super writing focused but it's where I found myself. I realized I was queer, I came out, I got into tumblr rpg, I met my fandom friends, I found tumblr fandom in a way I hadn't before. And then a couple years later I found tl100.

From there, the rest is kind of wonky. I had a big fan blog for the show and talked a lot about it on my twitter which lead me to many interactions with the writers who then invited me to dinner at comic con one year. I had a long talk with Shumway abut my goals and what I wanted to do with my life. I knew I wanted to be in TV somehow. I knew I wanted to be in writing somehow but I couldn't figure out how those two things aligned. I was doing a lot of journalism and critic stuff because that felt like the clsoest way to be both a fan and workin in the world I loved but it was really Kim and Shawna that opened my eyes to the ability to just .... be a TV writer. Film school had made me terrified of the wrtiing side but I think it was because film school was so much more about writing for film which I learned isn't my thing. But TV is a writers' medium, unlike film which is more fo a directors medium and suddenly I was like -- MIND BLOWN. It was everything I wanted in a career and married all of the things I loved. It was something that had previously felt like unattainable but they made it seem human and approachable.

They helped me get my first WPA job, I saved up 3 grand working and with the help of some friends and moved to LA to start that. And suddenly I was in a whirlwind of catching up on everything I felt like I had missed. I was reading scripts, learning what the process looked like, doing everything I coudl to figure out what being a TV writer looked like. After that job, I got another WPA job at Millar Gough on Into the Badlands and later Shannara.

THEN I got hired on Daybreak which I can fully credit with being a huge stepping stone for me and changing my life in a lot of ways. Aron was the best showrunner. He was educational and he taught us shit, he let us in the room, he let us write stuff, he let us pitch and try and fall on our faces and never judged us for it. My second season there he moved me up to writers assitant and patiently walked me through all the stuff I didn't know yet because he had faith in me and my voice and my ideas. He let me writ e afreelance episode that year and pitch it in the room and do all the things that real w riters get to do.

So after Daybreak season 2 got cancelled I was pretty ready to spend my next year or two just writing, finding an agent and moving forawrd. And then I got an email to go and work for Moira Walley Beckett. She was looking for an assistant with serious room experience to help develop something in a small room and stay on with her later. I took the job becuase she's MOIRA and I was stoked to learn from her and work for a woman for once. I ernded up very fortunate becuase a month later we were all surprised by the covid mess and I was fully employed that whole year while many people weren't which was a huge help. Moira was a STELLAR boss. I had thought I was ready and what she taught me was that ther's always so much more to learn. She walked me through the process of applying notes and taking notes and changing draft after draft of your story. SHe walked me through breaking a whole season of television. We had a great partnership for the year and I'm so grateful. And then that project didn't end up seeing hte light of day and we our separate ways as well.

Cut to a few months ago, I was still at home in Boston, post-covid, having been sick for most of january. My friend Rachel dared me to write a spec in a weekend for the Warner Bros fellowship deadline. So I did. It was a Legacies Spec. Given that we didn't have access to the WGA library because of the pandemic, Legacies was an easy and obvious choice. I had already seen it inside and out and didn't need as much access to learning a show from scratch. So I wrote what I loved, wrote a season 2 legacies spec that embraced my favorite things about legacies: the high school soap of one tree hill, Lizzie doing wild dialogue, buffy-esque monsters, and themes of grief and humanity.

AND THE REST you know.

Here we are. I'm still lost as fuck. I'm still running full speed through a world I don't always feel like I"m ready for. I'm still a perfectionist and an obsessive overworker. I still take notes I don't need to take and do work at 10pm and come in early and stare at the story boards. There's a whole journey in all of this about representation and coming to find myself and queer media and wanting to make more of it but that's one I don't feel like I can fully get into until I'm decades out of it and the world is truly made better. But I'm here. And it feels like the end of a journey and liek I'm standing at the edge of a brand new clif because I've only just started.

[xcziel]

get to know me

tagged by @vishcount (thank you!!) and i'll follow her format bc making two posts seems a little much - i'm not that interesting!!

(hilariously, this post shows up as blocked for me bc of the tag 'joker' which? tumblr?????)

Part I

name: i'm an internet old, so i never use my real name online, mainly because it's spelled in a very unique way (thanks mom & dad) - i mean like, if you googled it you could find my home address in a few seconds kind of unique - but also, though i do enjoy the spelling, i actually don't like it very much when it's said out loud? (is it weird that my name written down is 'me', but my name aloud has never felt like 'me'?) always wanted a nickname but never acquired one :/

at any rate, i've had the username xcziel forever and i go by that 😊 (pronounced ex-SEE-zee-el, similar to etc. or ex-SET-er-ah! thanks @xia-xueyi for pointing out that it can be confusing to guess!)

rest behind a cut because it got long!

pronouns: she/her

star sign: i don't ... really *do* astrology? but technically saggitarius

height: 5'4" (162.5cm for the intl folks)

time: 5:43pm but these thing take me forever to type out so ... ???

birthday: playing the 'internet old' card again .. but it floats around american Thanksgiving depending on the year

nationality: american

fave bands/groups/solo artists: lumping these together because i just .. don't really do music much anymore. if you had asked me this back in my 20s i'm sure i would have had all kinds of opinions and things to share, but these days i actually mostly prefer to listen music from when i was a kid. part of it is also that as an old, i prefer to buy my music, even digitally, and i don't really use spotify - which does so much to enable diverse music exploration i admit! but i mostly have earplugs in all the time and music does not work for me as background noise, so...

so i guess my answer would be 70s disco and classic rock and 80s new wave artists? i've never liked any artist's entire discography and prefer greatest hits-type compilations, but i guess duran duran and def leppard and depeche mode would be considered formative? i love new order but specifically late 80s new order, NOT joy division. the only concert t-shirt i've ever worn was the cult? i loved sonic temple but i can't listen to most of it anymore though i still adore love removal machine. i think maybe if you get old enough, for some of us there's TOO MUCH good music and we can't pare it down anymore

song stuck in your head: jamiroquai's canned heat

last movie you watched: re: the above, i re-watched center stage, the 2000 one with zoe saldana and the mandy moore soundtrack, bc it's a happy comfort movie and i just got a digital version

last show you binged: i can't really "binge" very often bc after a couple of hours i need a break, so i guess i'd say the tgcf donghua on netflix since it was short enough to get through all in one go

when you created your blog: in 2012 i stopped lurking so i could post about the avengers movie

the last thing you googled: 5'4" in cm? lol before that it was chinese wrapped street food

other blogs: everything is here! i discovered i compartmentalize about as well as i tag reliably (😓) but i do have several automated ao3feed-tag style sideblogs. and i did, very briefly, have a *winces* hockey sideblog too

why i chose my url: ooh i know i've done this before, sorry if it's repetitive, basically it was the username i picked back when my family first got aol: short, unique combo of letters - 14-year-old me really thought about it! and then it wouldn't let me use anything other than my name. thirty-some-odd years later, trying to come up with a livejournal username that wasn't already taken and getting fed up, i plugged it in and went: good enough!

how many people are you following: like 760-something last i checked? although many, many, many of them are deactivated

how many followers do you have: idk i don't like looking at that stuff, but way fewer than i am following

average hours of sleep: it varies too much day by day, my sleep schedule is too wonky, i have no idea what the average would be

lucky numbers: 7? cliché i know, and again not really buying into it, but somewhere in my hindbrain i like it that my first, middle, and last names all have seven letters

instruments: none. i like singing

what i'm currently wearing: giant black t-shirt and baggy black drawstring shorts, standard sitting around the house gear

dream job: don't have one. if i did it would give me something to be working towards *sigh* this is how you end up in retail for decades, kids! but also, to quote a random post i saw in true tumblr fashion "i simply do not dream of labor"

dream trip: covered this one before but: back to the uk and some railway daytrips, or a really fancy northern cruise, atlantic/pacific either one

fave food: uhhh, don't really have a favorite but i'm almost always in the mood for pizza

top three fictional universe you'd like to live in: none really, if i had to still be me..maybe some kind of actually utopian future? but the pandemic has confirmed for me that i do NOT like living in interesting times, so most fictional story universes are RIGHT out. my favorites to read about like discworld or diana wynne jones' worlds would be way to chaotic for my comfort. possibly diane duane's young wizards universe would be safe enough to be okay?

Part II

last song: watching center stage made me think of my dance playlist so sunrise by simply red

last movielast stream: i don't watch streams or youtube often, so it was the same as you, vish! liu chang's birthday stream was SO enjoyable i screenrecorded the entire thing just so i could play it back (and maybe gif sometime if i ever get the drive to actually do it)

currently reading: well i just finished the translated quan qiu gao kao or global university entrance exam novel, which was sparked purely from catching a single rec post here on tumblr and basically just *falling* into this 166 chapter epic that is *amazing* and not coming up for air until i got to the end, which is typical novel-reading behavior for me (yes i was the kid who read through lunch period and got hassled by people who kept pestering me with "what're you reading" questions and yes i realize probably a lot of you on tumblr were too) plus, the new murderbot novel is out tomorrow!!!!! so that'll be where i end up next!

currently watching: the entire dmbj verse (that i can get my hands on) but ... sporadically and stopping at random different parts because the thing is ... this type of show is not really the kind i enjoy so much? so since it's more for "research" and learning character arcs (and let's be honest: shots of liu sang), etc. it's easy to get distracted by other stuff. i'm also watching the sleuth of the ming dynasty, mr queen, bromance, the expanse, re-watching farscape and stargate sg-1, just finished the falcon and the winter soldier, and then anytime something new and short gets introduced it jumps the queue. there are just. so. many. things. to. watch! (now i have to look into anti-fraud league too!? you all are cruel ...)

what is antipoetry to you: i ... don't really think much about poetry? i know what i prefer is usually the more basic rhymed kind like lewis carroll, emily dickinson, poe, coleridge, etc. so i suppose i don't have much use for classifying non-rhyming verse? i can appreciate stuff like rupi kaur which i guess would qualify? or that william carlos williams plums poem? but it doesn't really stick with me the way lyric-like verse does

currently craving: i never know what exactly this is meant to be in reference to ... hmmm, i would love a new high-concept, high production-quality movie like say, pacific rim, to be released, just for that massive, excited energy that comes with something new that hasn't already got tons of disappointing or conflicting history behind it - that would be so fun!!

other than that, right now, i mostly kinda want some fried fish? but that will have to wait until i go to get my second vaccine shot on wednesday since it's on the way there. i'd also like my internal body parts to settle down and fly right but it's been more than a month and they don't seem inclined :(((( maybe once i'm fully vaxxed i'll think about consulting somebody about it

tagging @foxofninetales @xia-xueyi @momosandlemonsoda @memorydragon @thewindsofsong @elvencantation @mylastbraincql @hesayshesgotboyfriend @aurawolfgirl2000 @smaragdine-galaxy and anyone who wants to! but never feel obligated and if you don't get around to it for like half a year that's totally fine, i am still interested!!!

[mallowstep]

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

[spaceskam]

warning: depression, other mental health wonkiness

Michael tapped his foot against the pavement until Kyle stepped on it to make him stop.

"You need to either calm down or go home," Kyle said sternly. Michael looked up at him, entirely drained and slightly terrified Kyle would actually make him go home. "When Alex comes out, he needs everyone to be calm. Don't fake being overly happy, but don't get him anxiety to feed off of. So just... be calm."

Michael took deep, controlled breaths in response.

For the first few weeks after the whole kidnapping and Crashcon incidents, Alex had been thriving. He was riding a high that Michael watched from the sidelines, but that most people got a view up close. He was more active, he was more friendly, he was (according to stories that made Michael was to vomit) hypersexual, he was so high energy that it was almost jarring. Michael had seen him kiss Forrest in public and hold hands with him and tell him stories with animated hand motions. He looked so goddamn happy.

But then he broke.

Kyle had said it was pretty common for people to just pretend like things were more than fine after a tragedy. And, considering it was Alex, he had a lot of tragedy that he was ignoring. Then it just all hit him at once. He couldn't get out of bed, he was crying all the moments that he was just entirely emotionless, and he was falling into old self-destructive habits that Michael chose not to think about.

With a little persuasion, they'd gotten Alex to agree to be admitted. He needed help that they couldn't provide. They had group calls every week, all eager to see how he was doing. He always sounded so tired, but he was getting there. He was making progress to be back to normal. Or, whatever normal could possibly be for him. Normal with regularly psych evaluations to adjust medications for the rest of his life.

"He's gonna be okay," Forrest said from the other side of Michael, giving him a reassuring smile, "We just need to be there for him."

To Michael, that seemed to be the biggest problem. Before all of this, the only person who was actively there for Alex was Forrest. His friends were shit. Michael was shit. They were all shit. They were all the reason Alex got so bad in the first place. None of them were there to notice when his three weeks of bliss got suspicious, to catch it before he plummeted, to talk through what happened. Forrest was too new to his life to know.

And yet Forrest was the one who cooked for him when he started to struggle getting out of bed. Forrest was the one who helped him clean his room whenever he let it go. Forrest was the one who came to them in the first place to say there was something going on. No wonder Alex wanted him. He was better to him than anyone else.

Surprisingly, though, Forrest didn't blame them for being bad friends. Alex didn't even blame them. But they blamed themselves that seemed to be enough weight on their shoulders. Guilt was already painful, but when it was guilt about Alex, it made Michael feel like he was in his own personal hell.

But he was trying. He was trying to be better, to do better, because that's how he could be good to Alex. He was going to be a good friend at the very least.

"There he is," Kyle said softly, taking a deep breath before throwing on an award winning smile. The agreement was only a couple of them them would go to meet Alex at the hospital as to not overwhelm him, but they would have a more adequate welcome home lunch the next day as long as Alex was feeling up to it.

So it was just Michael, Forrest, and Kyle there to witness as a nurse held the door open for him and Alex slowly walked out, using two crutches heavily. Michael wasn't sure if he was allowed to have his crutches or his prosthetic while he was in there. He wasn't about to ask about it now.

Forrest pushed off the bench and met Alex halfway, instantly pulling him into a welcoming hug. Michael watched as Alex melted into him, letting himself be hugged even though he couldn't really hug him back without risking hitting him with his crutches. But his face smushed against Forrest's shoulder and he looked safe there, so Michael refused to be jealous. Alex was number one priority.

Kyle and Michael stayed where they were as Forrest and Alex shared a couple words. Forrest kissed his forehead at the end of it and took ahold of the bag holding the clothes he'd gone there with. Then Alex started coming closer and Michael could hear his blood pumping in his ears.

He was wearing baggy clothes from head to toe, but he still seemed more thin than when he last saw him. His hair had grown out a little more, shaggy and toussled and not at all neatly combed like he had it before he got taken by his own brother. He had dark circles around his pretty eyes and he moved slow, but he managed a smile for them as he got close.

"Hey," Kyle said, pulling him into a hug. Alex again leaned into him and smushed his face into his shoulder, keeping his crutches in his hands. "How was it?"

"Mandated therapy and med regulation was good, but everything else sucked," Alex admitted. His voice was soft and underused and Michael held his breath to keep himself in check. He said he could do that. "Was like being back in basic. Always being told what to do, always being watched. It was the worst."

"So, sounds like you're happy to be out," Kyle said, laughing softly as he let go of him.

"Yeah," Alex breathed, eyes drifting over to Michael finally, "I'm happy to be out."

Michael didn't step closer, too scared to fuck up or push any buttons. He didn't know if he was allowed to hug him or get the same smushed face kind of affection like the other two got. Michael was different. He was the one who was most at fault. He was the only one who knew exactly what happened to Alex and he didn't do shit to make sure he was okay afterwards.

Maybe he really shouldn't be there.

But then Alex came towards him and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning into him as his sole form of balance. Michael didn't even mind when the crutches slammed into his calves. Alex pressed his face into Michael's neck and breathed in deep. Michael hugged him as tight as his body would allow, bowing his head towards his shoulder.

"I missed you," Alex whispered against his skin, so soft Michael barely heard it. But he felt the words, specifically for him and reverberating through his skull. Michael squeezed him.

"I missed you too."

Tears sprung to his eyes, but he held them back. He refused to have any bad vibes for Alex to feed off of. And Alex clung to him for what felt like longer than he hugged the other two combined, just holding him and breathing him in. It didn't make sense. He didn't deserve it.

Michael walked away. He left him when he needed him most. He didn't deserve this.

"Don't cry," Alex said, just as soft as before, his fingers gently gliding up and down his spine.

"I'm trying," he admitted, blinking rapidly to try and make it stop. Alex squirmed just a little in response to his eyelashes against his skin and it made him smile. Michael gave him one last squeeze before he let him go. He had to let him go. If he held on longer, he wouldn't be able to keep from crying.

Alex regained his balance and then looked behind him at Kyle and Forrest, both of whom seemed unphased by the length of the hug.

"Please tell me you guys are going to feed me something unhealthy and greasy because I need it," Alex said, voice still soft and so sweet that it stirred laughter in them all.

"Yeah, I'll stop anywhere you want, let's go," Kyle agreed.

They made their way to the car and Forrest helped Alex into the passenger seat before he and Michael slipped into the backseat of Kyle's car. Forrest sat behind Alex and draped his arm over the side, letting Alex grab onto his hand.

The whole ride, Alex made small talk and joined in on the jokes. He seemed happy to be out and back to normal already, facade in full force. Michael wondered if he did it on purpose or if he subconsciously was too scared too look weak.

Then Michael wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

Alex ate the fast food Kyle got for him happily and they all headed towards his house. When they got there, they helped Alex inside and offered to stay with him, but he declined.

"I'll be okay," Alex said with a smile, "I'm just gonna go to bed."

Kyle and Forrest left in their respective cars and Michael got in his truck to do the same, but he couldn't even turn the engine. He got back out and knocked on the door. Alex answered it a few seconds later.

"Did you forget something?" he asked. Michael stared at him and then was once again reminded that he was supposed to be sending good vibes. He had none of those to give.

"You don't have to pretend to be fine," Michael told him, "You can be honest."

Alex stared at him for a few seconds as if reading him entirely. He probably was. Michael wouldn't be surprised.

"You can be honest too," Alex said. Michael swallowed and looked away before looking back at him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Why did you hug me? It was all my fault you were in there," Michael said. Alex shook his head.

"No, it wasn't. Maybe you didn't help, but you have your own problem. I'm not yours to fix and you're not mine. I learned that," Alex said, smiling and then letting it fade, "But I hugged you because I miss you and I love you and my therapist agreed that I should give you a hug. I know you can't say it back and I know... I know it's easier for you to say it to other people for some reason, but I can say it to you and that's my progress."

Michael stared at him, feeling more lost than he was before. How did he explain his reasoning? How did he fix it? How did he fix himself?

"Don't cry," Alex said again, still soft and sweet and not a trace of pity. But hot tears of frustration and anger and months of feeling worthless poured down his cheeks before he could stop them.

"God, I'm so shitty. I'm horrible. I don't deserve your love."

"I know you don't mean it, but that's a manipulation tactic."

Michael laughed through his tears, sniffling before a whine involuntarily emitted from his throat and he felt like crumpling. He needed to go home. He needed to get away from Alex. He was only going to make things worse.

But Alex's crutch hit his shin to get his attention.

"You can sit out here 'til you feel better than you can come lay with me. The way you smell helps me sleep, so it's for selfish reasons, don't get it confused," Alex said. Michael huffed another laugh.

"Okay," he agreed.

"I have to help myself and you have to help yourself. We're always gonna be toxic for each other if we don't. I got help and I'm working on it. Now it's your turn," Alex said. Michael nodded. "Okay, I'll see you in a little bit."

The door closed and Michael went and sat on one of the chairs Alex had outside. He brought his legs to his chest and bowed his head into his knees, clasping his fingers around the back of his neck.

And he let himself cry.

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

[purplesurveys]

1157

survey by hxcsingingsk8r

Phone Scavenger Hunt

First off, what phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8.

And what provider do you use? It’s a local one you wouldn’t know about, called Globe.

How long have you had your current phone? I can’t remember if it would be 3 or 4 years this 2021. Either way, it’s definitely been a while and I’ve been itching to upgrade. It’s too early to make such a big purchase, though.

Do you have any cases for it? Describe them. I have a clear case that I bought last year. Before that, I had a pink Otterbox case that I managed to destroy even though Otterbox is normally known for its durability. I just have a very unique ability to wreck everything I’ve ever owned lol.

How old were you when you got your first cellphone? I was technically 6, but it was meant to be a present for my 7th birthday. We threw a birthday party a month in advance because my dad had to fly back abroad for work before my actual birthday, but we wanted him to be present at the celebration so we decided throwing a party early was the best route.

What about your first smartphone? [If the answer is different] It was an iPhone 5S.

How old are you now? Dunno what this has to do with the theme of the survey but I am now 22.

Okay, move onto the scavenger hunt part

What is your lock screen picture of? It’s of Kim Seon Ho at a restaurant, lmao.

Home screen? It’s one of the shots from a recent promotional photoshoot Hayley did for Good Dye Young.

How many pictures are thre currently on your phone? This question just made me so anxious hahaha. I have way too many photos; and upon checking, it turns out I currently have 6,266. My god do I need to clean up my camera roll this weekend.

How many videos? I have 227. I have no idea it’s gotten to be this many; I barely use my phone to take videos. I’ll go ahead and delete some of them right now, just to give my phone (and its storage) space to breathe.

What is your most recent picture of? It’s a work thing...I guess I’ll explain it so it can make more sense. So one of our clients has got this Lent campaign going on, and to spread word about it we’ve tapped a handful of food bloggers to try out the offers themselves and post about their experience on social media. Now that we’re in the middle of Holy Week they’ve gone ahead and uploaded their own posts, and I’m in charge of taking screenshots so I can show to the client that the execution had been successful.

And the most recent video? It’s a private vlog. Every Sunday, or at least every other Sunday I take a few minutes to sit down and do a weekly video thing where I talk about my ~mental~ and ~emotional~ status, and it’s basically a way to be in touch with myself and keep track of my progress. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get to uploading them one day.

Do you have any albums? If so, of what? Yeah. I have one for Cooper, one for Kimi, and a bunch of tiny albums I’ve made where I compiled 4–5 photos of friends to post on their birthdays.

What pictures have you favorited? I have a lot of favorited photos. There’s no required category for me to label them as such.

Do you have any shared albums with friends or family or work? No. I’m not sure if I can do that, or how to do it if it is allowed.

Do you have any alarms set? For what time and for what occasions? I have a bunch of alarms but only because they’re archived into the Clock app and I just haven’t gotten around to deleting them. When I was still new at my work, I used to have alarms set for certain work tasks I have to take note of every week – but now that I’ve gotten into the groove of things, I don’t need the alarms to be reminded about them anymore.

Check your weather app, what is the weather and temperature where you live? It says ‘Mostly Clear’ and shows a temperature of 26ºC.

Do you have the YouTube app? Do you have your own channel? I do have the app and my own account, but I never use it to post videos. It’s nice to have my own channel so that my homepage can be tailored to my interests.

Do you have an email app? Which one do you use? I just have the default Email app that comes with iOS, but I never use it because it’s so wonky. It doesn’t refresh new emails and it takes forever when it does, and it doesn’t always show the full thread of email conversations. If I absolutely need to check my email for something I usually have to pull out my laptop.

Does it say that there is an update available on your phone or any apps? Yes, it reminds me everyday hahaha. I don’t update unless Apple has been planning a big revamp with new features, though; and if the updates are just to address bugs, I disregard the reminders.

Go into your contacts, how many contacts do you have total? It says I have 178.

Name all of your contacts under the letter M: Feels a tad bit invasive, so I’ll just name five people I have under M: Lui, Kim, Patrice, Danika, and Andi.

Name all of your contacts under the letter U: I don’t have anyone under U.

Do you have any contacts that are businesses rather than people? Which ones? No, I don’t really use text to contact businesses. If I wanted to inquire or order from one, I usually head to their social media page.

Go into your notes, how many notes do you have saved? This is another one I have a hoarding problem with lol. My phone says I currently have 561 notes, though I’m fairly certain the biggest chunk of it comes from minutes I’ve taken down from work meetings. It was a whole lot less when I was still in school.

What kinds of things do you save in your notes? Like I said, I use Notes for taking down minutes from meetings. There are also a few surveys on there, from times I didn’t have internet and couldn’t post them on here.

Do you have any voice memos saved? What of? Yep. Some of them were recordings I had to do for journalism classes I was assigned to do voiceovers; some are interviews, also from my journ class; and the rest are of me rambling.

Do you ever use the calculator app? Pretty frequently for work.

Do you ever use the Maps app? Not really. If I needed directions, I would check out Waze for that.

Do you have any health/fitness apps? Which ones? I still have the Nike Training app from the very brief time I wanted to start working out earlier this year.

Do you have the Instacart app? The what now? I’ve never even heard of that.

What about a delivery service like Postmates, Uber Eats, Grubhub, Doordash? I have the McDelivery app for McDonald’s, but I also have other general delivery apps like Grab, Lalamove, and Transportify.

Do you have something like Venmo, Cashapp, or Paypal? I have the Paypal app but I never use it. I also have a couple of e-wallet apps just in case I’d have to use them as a payment method, since some businesses  I purchase from prefer certain ones. Ultimately, though, I use Grab’s mobile wallet the most often.

Do you use Bitmoji? I think I did before? I never used it all that regularly though. Didn’t see the point.

What other keyboards do you use besides English? Any? Filipino, Korean, and Emoji.

Which social media network apps do you have? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, TikTok, and Snapchat. So I guess I have all the main ones?

If you have Instagram, what is your handle and how many followers? I have a very private one I only use for work. I didn’t want it to have any followers but at present there’s Angela (because she asked to follow it this week) and Bea (idk why).

What do you typically post on the various social media platforms? The only ones I regularly post on are Twitter and Facebook, and on either I share life updates (if there are any) and memes; though on Facebook I have to watch out what kind of memes I share and make sure they aren’t too offensive because I’m friends with relatives, workmates, and media on there lmao. But on Twitter, I basically have no filter.

Do you make TikTok videos? I don’t make any myself, but I do enjoy going through the app.

Do you only add people you know on Facebook? Yes, for the most part. I’ve taken to adding people as long as they’re from UP or my high school even though I’ve never met them as well, but if I sense that they only added me to try and sell me insurance OR try to get me into MLM, then it’s an instant unfriend for me.

Do you have an app that tracks Instagram followers? No, because I don’t need to track my Instagram followers. I’m off the radar as off the radar gets.

Do you have a Snapchat? Yeah, it’s still on my phone just because but I literally never touch it anymore.

Do you ever take selfies with filters? What app's filters do you use? Eh, just before. I don’t really take selfies anymore, period.

Do you use any apps like Depop or Poshmark or Etsy? No. Out of these three I’ve only ever heard of Etsy, too.

What messengers do you use to talk to people? Any besides just texting? I have Messenger to stay in touch with family and friends; Whatsapp and Viber for work; and Telegram just in case my friends want to play games.

Do you have any photo editing apps? Which ones? I have this app called Foodie that has some pretty filters. Otherwise, since I’m not on Instagram anyway I’m never on the lookout for photo editing apps; no one ever filters their photos on Facebook and Twitter lol.

Do you have any games? Which ones? I do have a ton of games on my phone. I never play any of them, but I keep them just in case I get bored enough to start revisiting them. I have word games, drinking games, games similar to Heads Up! where one person will have to guess the word on the screen while the phone is on their forehead, and gimmicky games like 1010! and Candy Crush haha.

Do you have any rideshare apps like Lyft or Uber? I have Grab, which is a rideshare, parcel delivery, food delivery, and online grocery app all in one.

Now go to the actual phone app, whose phone numbers are saved as favorites? I don’t tag any of my contacts as favorites.

Who was your most recent outgoing call to? I can’t recognize the number, so it was probably a Transportify driver that I called to give him directions to my house.

Who was your most recent incoming call from? I also can’t recognize the number, but this time he was most likely a Grab driver.

Who was your most recent missed call from? Again, can’t recognize the number HAHAA

Why did you miss that call? On purpose? Were you sleeping? Busy? My phone is on silent 24/7, so I must have missed it while I was working.

Who is your most recent voicemail from and what's it regarding? We don’t have voicemail in the Philippines.

What was the last thing you Googled or searched on your phone? Candle tunneling and how to fix it.

What music app do you use? Apple Music? Spotify? Something else? I use Spotify, but I also availed of a 3-month trial on Apple Music earlier this year just because. I think it’s supposed to end soon but I have no plans to shift.

What playlists have you made on there? I have playlists called, “robyn discovers kpop,” “winding down,” “angst,” “not my loss,” and my personal favorite, “paramore but fuck you.”

Lastly, what is the most recent song/album you've added to your collection? What Type of X - Jessi.

[lettersinscarlet]

Pumpkins (Colby Brock Imagine)

Hey y’all! I know I’m late with the spooky season stuff but I’ll do better in the future. I’ve got tons of Thanksgiving and Christmas stuff planned and I hope that makes up for it. Anyway, I dyed my hair today and if you guys see it you can tell me what you think but don’t roast me too hard I still having feelings. Anyway, I’ve been crushing on this boy and so I’ve got all this extra energy and side inspo so hopefully more stuff will be coming. Anyway, hope you enjoy this!

——————————————————————————

“Baby,” Colby whined, rolling over to look at you. He was obviously bored and you smiled at how cute he was. Since you had been dating for three years, it was easy to read some of his moods. “Do you know what today is?” he asked with a whiny voice.

“The 26th?” you asked. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“No,” he corrected you, “it’s spooky season.”

“It is,” you responded. He waited expectantly for you to ask and you sighed. “So?”

“We should do something spooky related,” he suggested and waggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him and ruffled his hair.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well,” he started, “I have a few ideas in mind,” he murmured, looking you up and down. “BUT,” he interjected, “I did have something seriously in mind.”

“What would that be?” you asked.

“I want to surprise you,” he stated. “Go get changed into something you can get messy,” he ordered and sat up.

“You’re sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the first thing?” you questioned as you got up. He chuckled and you smirked as you went to do what he said.

You changed into one of your old t-shirts and a pair of sweats. You threw your hair up in a ponytail and found some of your old tennis shoes. You walked down the stairs and Colby whistled.

“One-hundred percent the hottest outfit I have ever seen you in,” he commented. You rolled your eyes and he got up and pulled you in to kiss your forehead.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re gonna do?” you asked as you leaned back against him.

“No, but we need to go to the car,” he informed you. He kissed your forehead again and then he grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car.

As he drove, he blasted some music and you guys were rocking out. After some time, Colby pulled into a grocery store parking lot. You looked around, confused, and Colby just laughed. He parked and then led you to the entrance to the store. He stopped and gestured in front of him, revealing to you two buckets and some shelves filled with pumpkins. He had a huge smile on his face as he gaged your reaction. You had a smile equally as big.

“You wanna carve pumpkins?” he asked. You nodded and looked over the pumpkins, seeing which one’s caught your eye. Colby went yo and slapped one, smiling when it made that dull noise. “So it claps,” he mused.

You laughed and walked to one of the buckets and picked one. It was the perfect orange color and even though it was a bit wonky, it was big and you loved it. You hoisted it up and wrapped your arms around it and you turned to face Colby.

“I found mine!” you announced. He kissed your nose and then turned to look at the selection. He grabbed two pumpkins and tucked them under each of his arms. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“I’m gonna make Sam a surprise pumpkin,” Colby answered. You nodded and then you went inside. Colby picked up two carving kits and a couple of fake candles to put inside the pumpkins when they were done. You helped him load all the stuff in his trunk and then hopped in the car. Yo were super excited.

“You know how much I love spooky season,” you told Colby as you got closer to your shared apartment. He nodded and looked over at you.

“I know how much you love it and so do I.”

You squealed with excitement when you finally got your pumpkin out of the trunk and headed upstairs.

Colby found some old sheets and he spread it out the table. He then set two towels down for the two of you to sit on. He set out the carving tools before he set the pumpkins down: one on your side, two on his side.

“Alright, before we start, I want to set some rules,” he said and clapped his hands together. “First of all, we have to surprise each other. You can’t tell me what you’re doing, I can’t tell you what I’m doing. And no sneaking around to see anything. Second, when we do the big reveal, the lights have to be off and the candles have to be on. It’ll be spooky. And third, the winner gets a kiss,” he finished. You mulled over his terms for a moment.

“Sounds good to me, Brock. It’s game on.” You went and grabbed a marker from the kitchen before you plopped down on your side, trying to decided what you wanted to do. You decided that you were going to do a carving of Jack and Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. You had seen something like it in your feed a few days ago and you were excited to carve it.

You looked around your pumpkin and saw Colby already cutting out the top of his pumpkin to start getting the guts out. You quickly traced a circle at the top and grabbed a knife to start cutting it out.

You grimaced when you pulled the top off and were met with that first scent of pumpkin. You would get used to it, but it was still gross the first minute. Then came the fun part: scooping out the guts.

While you were hard at work, you barely heard Colby call your name. You looked up in enough time to get hit in the face with pumpkin guts. You gasped and Colby started cackling. You quickly reached in your pumpkin and grabbed some of the insides. Being careful not to make a huge mess, you tossed some at Colby, hitting him right between the eyes. He started spitting because he got some in his mouth and you fell over laughing.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” he asked. He got up and ran over to your side. Colby reaches into your pumpkin and pulled out a clump of guts and smashed them on your face. You gasped as the scent and the feel washed over you. It was gross.

“You are so gonna get it, Brock,” you threatened, sitting still as the pumpkin insides slipped down your face.

“Sure I am,” Colby said with a smirk. He watched you take the guts off your face and drop them on the table. You wiped off your face and wrung your hands out a few times before you got back to work.

“You’re gonna lose,” you taunted him after he sat down. He just shook his head as he went to clean out his pumpkin.

When you deemed the insides clean enough, you grabbed a marker and you started to draw what you wanted. Sure, your lines were a little wonky and sure, it wasn’t perfect, but you thought it was pretty darn good. You looked over and you noticed that Colby had already started cutting his out.

You started carefully cutting out your carving. There were so many intricate lines and pieces you had to cut out before others. It was a bit frustrating, but you knew it would be worth it.

Eventually, you started to see your figure coming together. You were amazed that the lines actually worked and that you hadn’t accidentally carved yourself. You glanced up and you saw Colby smiling at you.

“What are you smiling at, Brock?” you asked him. His smile got wider.

“You look cute when you’re focused,” he commented.

You just blushed as you looked at your pumpkin. Three years and the boy still knew how to get to you.

“Finished!” you yelled triumphantly. You saw him smirk before he answered.

“Me too. Grab a light and turn it on and I’ll hit the lights.”

You reached towards the center of the table and you grabbed one of the candles for inside your pumpkin. You turned it on and put it inside and you saw Colby do the same before he turned off the lights. You stared in awe at your art work before you looked up and saw Colby. He looked spooky in the candlelight.

“You go first,” he said. You let out an excited breath before you turned you pumpkin to face him.

“Ta-da! It’s Jack and Sally!” you announced. Colby looked shocked for a second before he looked back up at you.

“It’s so beautiful! This guarantees it: you have to help me figure out what to do on Sam’s surprise pumpkin,” he told you. You just smiled and shook your head.

“Alright, Brock, you’re up,” you told him. You saw him visible swallow before he put his hands on his pumpkin. He turned it slowly and looked up at you as you read it.

“Will you marry me?” the pumpkin read.

“Will I marry the pumpkin?” you asked, but the tears were already welling up in your eyes.

“You are a such a dork,” Colby muttered before he walked closer to you. “No, it’s not asking if you’ll marry the pumpkin, although that would be interesting. (Y/N), I have loved you for a long long time. I love everything about you: your dorkiness, you laugh, your personality, your kindness, your everything. You are perfect and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how true that is. So (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), will you make this the best spooky season ever by marrying me?”

You looked at his sparkling blue eyes and the ring that had suddenly appeared in his hands.

“Yes, a million times yes!”

Colby got closer to you and kissed you. His lips fit perfectly with yours and the kiss was full of passion and love. Colby finally pulled away and he gently took the ring and put it on your finger.

“How did you know my ring size?” you asked him after he finished putting it on.

“Remember when I took you out and bought us matching rings a few months ago?”

“You sly devil,” you said, but leaned up and kissed him again. Colby’s phone buzzed and he sighed as he pulled away.

“Sam’s known about this for awhile and he wants to know if I actually proposed yet,” Colby explained. You laughed and you quickly took his phone and pulled up his messages with Sam. You snapped a picture of the ring on your hand and sent it before you gave Colby his phone back. Moments later, you heard pounding on the door and the two of you laughed.

“Let us in!” you heard Kat from the hallway. You took Colby’s hand and pulled him to the door. When you opened it, Sam and Kat were looking at you expectantly.

“You guys finally came!” you announced. “Colby threw pumpkin guts at me and it got in my hair!”

Colby shoved you playfully and you laughed at the look on Sam and Kat’s faces. You then showed them your hand and they heard gasped and screamed with joy.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with the duo and Colby and you had a lot of fun. They left after a few hours and it was just you and Colby.

You walked closer to Colby and he wrapped his arms around you and you swayed to a nonexistent beat. You leaned your head against his chest and you stayed quiet.

Colby pulled away and he used his hand to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“So Future Mrs. Brock,” he started and something sparked in his eyes, “wanna have some fun?”

———

Taglist:

@sp00kybrock @yikes-xander @daddydobrock @trapbrock-local @thenameisbabe @far-to-many-bands @lyssaholic @wacky-webber-458 @colbysbaby @katiaw2 @brocks-girl @chesterbenningtonaremylife

[pens-swords-stuff]

Cough Syrup and Popsicles [Short Story]

So this is a short story that I wrote for my Creative Writing class! It was my first time since middle school that I attempted to write a short story, and also the first time since middle school that I’ve written in first person!

It’s gone through a couple of drafts, but it’s still a little rough around the edges. But since I deemed it decent enough for my interim portfolio, I figured I’d share it with you all here :)

This is very different from what I write normally, and it was a great challenge! It’s not my best work, but I hope you guys like it.

(I apologize if the formatting is a bit wonky, it copy-pasted really weirdly)

If you would like to read this on your dashboard instead of my blog, please click here!

Warning: Long-ish writing; 2927 words.

The harsh lights of the fluorescents flickered overhead. The shopping cart shuddered as the defective wheel squeaked and groaned across the linoleum. The grocery store was nearly devoid of people, with only the occasional employee ducking past me to restock some shelves. Their eyes flickered towards me as they passed, regarding me with disdain before their gaze drifted to the clock mounted by the ceiling. The employees probably wanted to go home—it was almost closing time. I couldn’t blame them. I always got irritated when people came in at the last minute at the restaurant where I worked.  They probably would be able to go home if it wasn’t for the few stragglers lurking among the shelves. I ducked my head whenever I felt their eyes on me. Pretend like they’re not looking at you, Alexandria, I chanted to myself. Just grab what you need and get out. It wasn’t like I wanted to be here either—I had just crawled into my bed when my seven-year old approached me with a bright red face and a burning forehead. The last bit of cold medicine left in my dwindling medicine cabinet had expired three months ago. I wasn’t about to risk poisoning my son just because I didn’t have the time or the funds to replenish my supply of medicine.

I tried to hurry through the store, dragging along the stubborn shopping cart as best as I could, but I realized that my legs weren’t moving as fast as they should.  As any good mother would do when their child was sick, I should be racing down the aisles, tearing through the shelves to find what I need so I can get home as soon as possible, but no. I had stopped completely when I realized something: I could hear the hum of the lights overhead; I felt the cold rush of air every time the doors opened several feet behind me; and my thoughts weren’t drowned out by my kids constantly tugging at my legs and begging for snacks that I can’t afford. It was the first time in days that I had a moment to myself, to just breathe and take in the world. Did the produce section always have that sweet scent of strawberries and cantaloupe wafting in the air? I didn’t want to leave, I realized. I had missed being alone; I missed being able to pick out my fruits and vegetables carefully to find the best ones; I was finally able to think instead of being rushed out of the door because my child threw a tantrum. I didn’t want to leave this dingy, dismal grocery store with its too bright fluorescents and dusty shelves because despite all of that, it was the first time in a while that I had the time to realize how red apples can be.

I’ll go home soon, really soon, I promised myself as I took an apple in my hand just because I could. It was heavier than I thought. I just need a moment, a few moments here first…

The container that usually held all the apple slice samples was empty by this time of night. The only thing that remained was the occasional apple stem left in the plastic box.

“Did you want an apple?” A lady with brown glasses and a kind expression asked from behind.

I must’ve looked particularly disappointed that it was empty. “Maybe a little,” I admitted with embarrassment. How intensely was I staring at the container that a stranger noticed? “It’s just been a while—I don’t know what I was expecting at this time of night.”

“Here.” The lady offered me an apple slice. “I grabbed the last one, but you look like you need it more than I do.”

What in the world did that look like? “Thank you, but it’s yours. I’m fine.”

"I insist. I’m not that hungry anyways.” The lady handed me the apple without leaving much room for protest. Then with a smile and a wave, she was gone.

That may have been one of the stranger experiences I’ve had at grocery stores, albeit a very kind one. When I bit into the apple slice, it was one of the sweetest apples I had ever tasted. Who knew that an out-of-season apple slice was what it would take for me to feel a little bit more like myself again? By the time I left the produce aisle, I felt like I could breathe again, like a huge weight was taken off my chest.

When I reached to open the glass door for a carton of milk, I paused. There was a woman staring at me, bone-weary and exhausted. I blinked, and she blinked at the same time. I moved my hand and she moved hers at the same time—I flinched when realization dawned on me: that was my reflection in the glass, staring blearily back at me. Vacant, sunken eyes with dark circles underneath; limp, scraggly dark hair, hollowed out cheeks with protruding cheekbones; the pallor of my face looking even more sallow underneath the harsh lights… I touched a trembling hand to my cheek and followed the planes of my cheekbone with my fingers. The feeling of weightlessness vanished immediately, and I felt all my burdens fall back upon me like stone. Who was she? I didn’t recognize myself. It was like staring into a funhouse mirror. It was me, but distorted, twisted and strange. It wasn’t me—or at the very least, I didn’t want it to be me. Where had that young, vivacious woman with the perky smile and confidence in her posture gone? I know I had let myself go quite a bit in terms of self-care as I gave everything I had to my kids; anything extra that I had was for them, whether that be food, clothes, supplies, love, affection… There was very little left for me. Despite that, somewhere in the back of my mind, I didn’t think I had changed so much. I still thought that I was the hopeful young adult, ready to grab life by the horns, but no. The young woman who dreamed of graduating college and starting her own business was gone. I was older now, beat down and struggling, trying to make ends meet as best as I can by working two dead-end jobs with no future career prospects in sight. My heart sank as I took in reality, as I took in the disheveled, tired reflection staring back in the glass.

I turned on my heel and walked away as fast as I could, trying to leave that reflection far behind. I had wasted too much time already; my kids were waiting. The brief respite I had found in the grocery store was over now, and I was ready to step back into my chaotic life again where I was too busy to reflect on myself. I swiftly made my way towards the medicine aisle and knocked the cheapest box of cold medicine that I could find in the cart. Other necessities like bread, peanut butter, jelly, eggs, ketchup and boxes of macaroni and cheese joined the medicine. I didn’t know when I would be able to go out shopping again.

The last stop was the freezer aisle, for the popsicles that I always gave my kids when they were sick. I was perusing the selection, comparing prices and making calculations in my head when someone bumped into me from behind, roughly. Thoroughly jostled and caught off guard, I turned to see a tall man with sharp eyes boring straight into me. He cleared his throat and jerked his head to the left, gesturing me to move and get out of his way.

Was I not even worth an excuse me? I knew I looked rough around the edges, but I was still a person that deserved a ‘pardon me’ if someone walked right into me, especially when the aisle was big, empty and full of space to walk around. “I just need one second,” I said with a tight-lipped smile. “There’s enough room in this aisle for you to give me a little bit of space.”

It was a clear hint on my part, but the man with sharp eyes didn’t move. He just looked at his watch meaningfully and cleared his throat. What was an obviously busy man like him doing in a grocery store in the middle of the night, harassing me in front of the popsicles? As much as I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, it wasn’t worth it—I was busy too, and I had a sick child waiting for me. I reached into the freezer for the cheapest generic brand of popsicles and stepped away. The man with sharp eyes didn’t back down and didn’t stop staring at me.

I didn’t want to admit it, but this man had gotten to me: I felt a little shaken. I left the freezer aisle with a bad taste in my mouth—the sweetness of the apple had soured considerably.

“Are you alright?”

I must really look rough today. I looked up, and the lady from before was looking at me with her forehead creasing in concern.

“I’m fine, I guess.” I said. It was a lie, of course but there was no other answer to give.

“Did something happen?” The lady asked, not letting it slide like I had hoped.

“A really rude man walked straight into me and demanded that I move, even though there was enough space to walk around me and wait politely—if he had been taught any manners.” I said with a roll of my eyes. It came out more venomously than I had intended. I wanted to shrug it off like it was no big deal, but in my current mental state, all I wanted to do was cry.

“Some people are just like that,” The lady said sympathetically. “I remember people walking all over me when I was younger, just because they thought they could. Their time isn’t more important than anyone else’s, but common sense is lost on some people.”

I didn’t say anything, I just nodded. I turned my face away from the lady when the tears began to well up. It was stupid to cry at something like this, but once it happened, I couldn’t stop it. It was just a jerk who thought he was better than people, and a nice person making sure I was okay. It was nothing to cry about—but still, my vision blurred a little bit.

Politely, the lady looked away as if she didn’t notice me tearing up. “Really, are you alright? Is there anything that I can do for you?”

“Thank you so much, but I’m fine.” I said. I took a moment to swipe my sleeve against my eyes. No more crying. I had things to do. “I really appreciate your concern though—it’s been a while since anyone has been nice to me. It almost makes the rude guy worth it.”

Was that too much to say? It probably was.

 “The store will be closing in ten minutes. If you have any remaining purchases, please go check out cash register number seven.” The intercom crackled. With that interruption, I hastily parted way with the woman after one final thank you. Reacting quickly to the announcement paid off; I managed to squeeze into the front of the line, just barely beating out the man with sharp eyes and the others filing in after him.

“Did you find everything you needed?” The cashier said in a monotone voice.

“Yes, yes.” I said, throwing my items onto the conveyor belt. The eggs were placed a little bit more carefully. I didn’t have much patience for small talk. Fortunately, he only responded with a grunt of acknowledgement.

Beep. Generic brand cold medicine: $4.97. Beep. A carton of milk: $3.99. Beep. An 18 pack of popsicles: $4.99. Beep. Beep. Beep, beep, beep.

 “Your total is $22.79. The cashier said, not even looking in my direction.

 I pulled out my credit card and swiped it. Beep beep, your card has been declined. I felt my heart stop.

The cashier raised a slick eyebrow.

“There must be some mistake.” I wetted my suddenly dry lips. I had paid off my credit card, right? I didn’t max it out already, right? “Let me try again.”

Another swipe, another decline. I glared at the credit card machine, as if reaching my credit card limit was the fault of its cold, clinical beeps. I could feel panic rising in my throat, and I pulled out my debit card next. “Let me try this one,” I said weakly, trying to smile. It was probably more of a grimace than a smile, and the cashier looked back with apathy.

Beep beep, your card has been declined.

I felt positively nauseous at that point. If the ground could just open up and swallow me whole, I would gladly jump in. Was my checking account really so depleted that I couldn’t pay twenty-some dollars at a grocery store? It wasn’t even a big purchase!

I heard a dreaded clearing of the throat, accompanied by the tap tap tapping of a foot. It was the man with sharp eyes from before, the new bane of my existence. He glanced meaningfully at his watch again because his time was clearly more important than mine.

“Ma’am, if you don’t have enough money to pay for this, you’ll either have to get rid of something, or just leave.” The cashier said, annoyance coloring his tone.

“Get rid of something?” Frantically, my eyes combed over all the items I had wanted to purchase. The cold medicine was non-negotiable, and so was the milk. Maybe the small loaf of bread was unnecessary? No, no—bread was so important, and the small jars of peanut butter and jelly would make it a complete meal all on its own. All I had gotten was food that I could stretch over a few weeks if I had to. That was valuable. I didn’t have enough time to pull up my bank account and check my balance. I would just have to keep taking away items until I found the price I could pay.

The popsicles then? I reached out to it but my hand hesitated. They weren’t strictly a necessity, but popsicles were a treat my kids would only get when they were sick. My son would be so disappointed.

There was another clearing of the throat behind me. My cheeks burned. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I apologized to my son silently as I grabbed the cold box—

“Are these all things you need?” A kind voice that I had become familiar with over the last half-hour said from behind. The woman with the brown glasses that I had talked to twice before stepped out of her place in line and approached me.

Numbly, I nodded. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, prickling at my skin. I just stared at my shoes.

“I’ll cover it.” The lady said. My head snapped up in disbelief, and she just smiled at me.

“Wait, excuse me, what?” That was all I could manage. My mouth felt like cotton.

“I’ll cover it. All of it.” She said, already adding her own items to the conveyor belt.

I was dumbstruck; my mouth was gaping like a fish. “I don’t even know what to say. You don’t have to do this.” I knew somewhere in my brain that I had to thank her, but it was like my mouth forgot how to form the words.

“You seem like you’re having a rough time, and I want to help.” The lady said, already swiping her own card and signing the machine with a flourish. “No, you don’t have to say anything,” She interrupted, when I opened my mouth to at least justify my situation. “We could all use a helping hand every now and then.”

I didn’t realize that I was crying until a hot tear rolled down my cheek. I grasped her hands, trying to squeeze every bit of emotion into our clasped hands so that she might get a sense of the overwhelming emotion that welled up in my chest.

“Thank you.” I finally said through ragged gasps.

“Don’t worry about it.” The lady said, squeezing back.

I didn’t know why she covered my costs, and she never told me. I have no idea if she was a wealthy person who went around paying for the groceries of single mothers in her spare time, or if she just saw me and thought ‘this person looks rough, maybe she needs some help’. Was it too cheesy to think that she was an angel of some sort? Maybe. I’m not the religious kind, but I believed it.

When I went to bed that night, I wasn’t thinking about the man with sharp eyes who probably thought me as nothing better than a dust bunny, or the fact that I felt thirty years older than my actual age, wondering where it all went wrong. I was thinking about the fact that my children had full bellies and were sleeping soundly, and that my son would be okay in a few days because he had medicine. I was thinking about the lady who’s name I don’t even know that made it all possible.

Life gets hard sometimes. It’s the small acts of kindness like this that remind me that there are more important things to remember and cherish.

[melodyofgraves]

Chanevi Fluff ABCs

A/N: Huge thank you to the wonderful and talented @pixelburied for making this list ❤️

It was so fun to write! I had to slightly change some parts because of the era and I think maybe I might do it for modern AU as well. Or maybe just some of the letters...

Also, I’ve written most of these in a random order, over a few days, so I might be repeating myself a couple times. And sorry if the text has weird gaps or something, I tried to fix it but my computer doesn’t want to cooperate.

Hope you enjoy!

Words: 4160

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A – Anger (What was their first fight about? Any big or recurring arguments?)

They don’t argue too much and if they do, it’s usually about really minor things and they talk it out rather quickly.

But the first major fight they had was quite early in their relationship. Yusuf was working late and when Bart heard about it, he decided to convince him to take a break and go for dinner together. Konevi, pale and with bloodshot eyes, was slouching over his desk in the stuffy room. Chambers also found out that he didn’t eat anything while working either. He got mad at Konevi for not taking care of himself and, though he quickly regretted it, yelled at him for being irresponsible. The sleep-deprived barrister got angry and yelled at him back, causing Bartholomew to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

Later that evening, Yusuf knocked on his door, not wanting either of them to fall asleep mad at each other. He apologized for yelling and told Bart about his early years as a barrister in England.

He told him how he always had to prove he was just as good, if not better than other young barristers, despite the fact that some people looked down on him only because of where he was from. He would forget to eat or sleep, focusing only on completing the task until he was successful. And even though those times were in the past, the old habit remained.

However, he promised to try and work on it.

Bart wrapped his arms around Konevi’s neck, pulling him closer and apologized for his behaviour as well. And promised to help him as much as he can.

That night they fall asleep next to each other in Bartholomew’s bed, embraced and no longer angry.

B – Best (What would they say is the other’s best trait?)

Yusuf just adores the cheerfulness Bart seems to bring wherever he goes. There’s something about him that always brightens Konevi’s day and it’s one of the many reasons he loves Bartholomew Chambers.

As for more physical traits, his partner’s smile never fails to make him feel better, even on the hardest of days.

Bart finds his intelligence very attractive. Konevi has that wonderful ability to talk about most complicated of topics without using too complicated words, so regardless of who he’s having a conversation with, they can actively participate in it without feeling stupid or less educated. Because Yusuf doesn’t have to use big words to prove he’s smart, he just is.

Another thing Chambers loves about his lover is his voice. It’s deep yet so smooth and sweet and somehow reminds Bart of honey. He also thinks Yusuf is an amazing singer so it’s a great shame he’s too shy about it to perform in front of other people.

C – Camera (How do they document their relationships? Who likes to take pictures? Or videos?)

They can’t really have any pictures or videos.

But they have one portrait together, painted by one and only Annabelle. They’re sitting together on a bench in the small garden outside their house, smiling softly at each other. They keep it in their bedchambers because they know hanging it might be dangerous.

Many years later, after they’re both long gone, some people would find the artwork. They would say it’s a beautiful picture of friendship, completely ignoring the love captured in their eyes or the way Bartholomew’s fingers brush over Konevi’s arm.

And there will be nobody to tell them how wrong they are.

D – Dates (What are their dates like?)

When the weather allows it, they always enjoy going on strolls, especially around the woods near Bartholomew’s house. It’s just so peaceful there, not a soul in sight.

They can walk around, holding hands and kissing as much as they want, and pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. They talk about everything, share stories and laugh at each other’s jokes. Sometimes they go bird-watching, admiring all the beautiful species that live there, sometimes they have picnics at the nearby meadow.

On rainy days they stay home, where they read together, have a delicious meal or just spend most of it in each others’ arms. Bart also likes to play pianoforte and even managed to talk his partner into singing with him a few times.

Either way, nothing makes them happier than being able to spend some time together, just a two of them, and they try to make most of those little moments.

E – Early (What was the first month of dating like?)

The beginning of their relationship mostly took place in London. where they had to spend most of their time together in either of their flats, talking for hours about nothing and everything at the same time and dancing despite the lack of music.

They did manage to go out for dinner or for a walk quite a few times though. It was a matter of picking the time of the day when the streets were less crowded and they even manage to hold hands and sneak some kisses when it seemed the risk of being seen wasn’t too high.

F – Friends (How is their relationship with each other’s group of friends?)

Since their group of closest friends is rather small, only a few of most trusted people know about their relationship, after all, they are all quite fond of each other.

But when Yusuf introduced him to Prince Hamid for the first time, Bartholomew has to admit he was extremely nervous. He had neither the title nor wealth worthy of impressing an actual prince but really wanted Konevi’s friend to like him.

After all, he had very strong feelings for the barrister, their relationship was going quite well,   and he didn’t want it to change because of Hamid’s disapproval. However, it took him less than five minutes of conversation with the prince to realize how wrong he was.

Hamid was actually very kind, treating Bart like an old friend, and soon they were both joking around and sharing some funny stories about Yusuf. And after they left, the prince just couldn’t stop smiling to himself, glad that he made a new friend and that his old friend found someone that obviously makes him happy.

G – Gifts (Do they like giving each other gifts? What kind?)

Bart strongly prefers getting sweets over any expensive gifts. So that’s what Yusuf usually gets him for most occasions, sometimes trying to make them himself but more often he just finds a bakery.

There are also days when he would just see someone selling pastries on his way home and immediately think about his Bart, getting some just to put a smile on his face, no occasion needed.

-

Yusuf always feels a little awkward when someone gives him a gift, so he always tells Chambers to not buy him anything. He prefers to celebrate days like his birthday and such by just spending it with his partner, a nice picnic or dinner much more appealing to him than any gift you can buy in a shop.

He’s also sure nothing could ever beat the handkerchief Bart gave him for their anniversary once. Chambers even asked Annabelle to teach him embroidering so he can decorate it with their initials and a little dove in the corner. The bird came out a little wonky but Yusuf thinks it makes the gift much more personal and always carries it in his pocket.

H – Hugs (All things involving hugs)

Bart just adores hugs. All of his closest friends can tell you that. On a few more casual occasions they meet, where they can ignore most of the rules of propriety, he just greets everyone by wrapping them into a big hug, which took Mr Sinclaire some of them time to get used to.

He also thinks Yusuf gives the best hugs ever. The height difference between them allows Chambers to hide his face in the man’s neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin and the smell of his cologne.

His favourite ones, however, are when they’re lying in bed, ready to fall asleep, and Konevi’s arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as his lover nuzzles the back of his neck. And Bartholomew feels so happy and safe that he wishes they could stay like this forever.

I – Inside Jokes (Do they have any?)

There was a situation that Yusuf likes to refer to „The Hawfinch Incident” and just loves to tease his partner about it.

During one of their frequent strolls nearby Bartholomew’s house, Konevi heard the man gasp suddenly as he pointed at the tall oak. There was a small bird, perched on one of the highest branches. „I think it’s a hawfinch!” he squealed, and before the barrister could react, Chambers was already climbing up the tree next to it to take a closer look without scaring the animal off.

Seconds later Yusuf watched in horror as his foot slipped and the man he loved fell down to the ground. Fortunately, Bart didn’t manage to get too far. He ended with only a sprained ankle and slight embarrassment as the barrister had to carry him home on his back. The staff greeted them with some raised eyebrows but they didn’t ask too many questions.

Now, whenever they pass a bird on a tree, Yusuf either grabs Bartholomew’s hand, as if to prevent him from running away again or just gives him an amused look and Bart just chuckles, still slightly blushing at the memory.

J – Jealousy (Who gets jealous easier? How do they show their jealousy?)

Neither of them is a jealous type. At least about other people.

However, sometimes Bart gets just a bit jealous when Yusuf is too occupied with the work to even talk to his partner for a whole day. So he made it his mission to distract him, at least for a moment.

When Bartholomew decides that the barrister could use a break, he pays him a visit in his office. He stands behind his chair, the man engrossed in his work, and wraps his arms around  Konevi’s neck, kissing his temple, cheeks or jaw until he has to take his eyes off the papers on his desk and focus on his partner instead. Then they usually talk for a while, spend some time in each others’ arms, sometimes go for a walk or a meal before the barrister goes back to work. And that’s when Bart deems his mission successful.

K – Kiss (How do they kiss? Who usually initiates?)

Bart is shorter than his partner so he likes to take an opportunity of when Konevi is sitting or lying on the bed because it makes it much easier to kiss him softly. Other times, he just puts his hand on Yusuf’s cheeks or tugs on his coat to make him lean down slightly. However, he’s a perfect height for getting lots of forehead kisses without much effort.

Konevi usually just looks for a way from the prying eyes, even if just for a moment, to gently brush his lips against Bart’s. Or he pulls him close, kissing him passionately seconds after they shut the front door behind themselves, finally alone. He also just loves peppering his partner’s face with lots of kisses first thing in the morning.

L – Love (How do they first say those three words?)

It was the day after Bart’s visit to the opera, during the London season. They met in Konevi’s flat for some tea, sitting across each other at the small table, and the barrister was just staring at Chambers, sharing some funny stories from previous night while stuffing his mouth with some biscuits.

He was just describing how Duke Richards threw a tantrum in the middle of a street when he couldn’t find Lady Lucy to take her to her townhouse and as Yusuf just looked at him, at this beautiful smile and those blue sparkling eyes, he felt his heart beat faster.

„Oh gosh, I love you.” he blurted out, suddenly realizing he said it out loud. Bartholomew stopped talking, nearly choking on the biscuit he was eating, and stared at him with wide eyes. „I didn’t mean to say it! I mean, I do love you, truly, but I was waiting for maybe a better moment and I just… Remember you don’t have to say it back! I don’t want you to feel pressured or…”

He was cut off by Bart’s lips, pressing against his in a soft kiss as the man was awkwardly leaning across the table. After a moment they pulled away and he only saw those blue eyes, staring at him, full of affection.

„I love you too. Truly.”

M – Movies (What kinds of movies do they watch together? Is it a regular Netflix ritual?)

For obvious reasons, they can really watch movies.

However, they do love to read together. Sometimes they just sit side by side, Bart eyes glued to the pages of one of his favourite romance novels as he leans against Yusuf’side, the man too engrossed in his mystery book to even notice.

Other times, when they find something they both enjoy, Chambers requests that his partner reads it out loud. Then he usually rests his head on Konevi’s lap, closing eyes and enjoying the sound of his voice.

N – Nicknames (Things they call each other)

Yusuf usually calls his partner „love” and Bart favourite nickname for him is „dear”. Pretty standard.

But when Mrs Elkins, one of the oldest servants of the Chambers family, told Yusuf that his partner’s childhood nickname was „duckling”, he thought it was too cute to ignore. Apparently, it was because of his favourite toy he used to drag with him everywhere when he was younger and most of the people close to the boy just started calling that.

So that evening, as they were getting ready for sleep, Yusuf wanted to see how his reaction. They got under the covers, share one more kiss and Konevi wrapped his arms around the man, as usual.

„Goodnight, dear.”

„Goodnight, duckling.”

Chambers immediately turned around, facing his partner, and Yusuf knew they won’t be going to sleep as soon as he thought they would. But he decided that the adorable pout he saw on Bart’s blushing face was worth it.

O – One (Tell us about the moment they realized they were with the one.)

For Bart, it was the moment he saw Konevi on the dance floor, dancing with one of the ladies there. They’ve been seeing each other for some time already but when he saw the man move smoothly to the music, effortlessly yet with such precision, and felt his heart beat faster.

He’s been with two other relationships before he met the barrister but never had such strong feelings for anyone before. He didn’t even know how to describe it until that moment. And then he just realized that Yusuf is the man he would like to spend his life with.

Yusuf, on the other hand, doesn’t really know when that happened. It seems like he just woke up one day, looking at the face of his lover, and knew that Bart was the one. His heart just filled with so much happiness when they were together, that he just couldn’t imagine being with anybody else.

P – Pizza (What is their favourite food to eat together?)

Probably biscuits, especially the ones they make together. It’s something they both enjoy and, after some years of practice, they managed to get quite good at it. Even their friends often compliment how delicious their biscuits are.

The couple’s favourite way to eat them is while having a picnic. They just sit on the blanket, enjoying the fresh air and not caring about decorum at all, and feed each other pieces of the pastries.

Q – Quit (Do they break up? Almost break up? What happened?)

The closest they get to end their relationship was after Yusuf told his lover he might be forced to return home.

They knew the distance between them would be too great for them to continue being together. And that brought the tears to their eyes and made their hearts ache. They spend that night, the night before the Duke’s ball, lying on the bed in each others’ arms. Wanting to spend their remaining time together as close as possible. Sharing kisses they thought would be their last. Trying to think of any way to prevent their parting. And crying themselves to sleep when they couldn’t find any solution to the problem.

And they would forever be grateful to Lady Lucy for helping them in this tough situation.

R – Rainy Days (How do they comfort each other on dark days?)

Their favourite place to seek comfort is in the other’s arms.

Konevi prefers to not talk much when he’s going through some tough time so most of the times he just finds Chambers and pulls him into a hug, trying to get as close as possible. Then they usually lie in bed, holding each other, Yusuf listens to his partner’s heartbeat as Bart strokes his hair and whispers that it will be alright and that he loves him very much.

Bartholomew, on the other hand, sometimes needs to let it all out. So Yusuf just wraps arms around him and just listens patiently to everything his partner has to say, from time to time wiping his tears away or kissing the top of his head. If possible, he also likes to bring Chambers some sweets since they always seem to cheer him up at least a bit.

S – Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush)

The first time Yusuf saw Bart holding little Sophia Sinclaire in his arms, he felt like his heart melted. He never really imagined himself wanting a child before but the sight of Chambers with his goddaughter, the way he looked at the girl, Konevi couldn’t help wonder if maybe one day they could take in a ward.

He definitely needs to discuss it with Bart and Annabelle in the future.

T – Texting (Do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?)

Using a phone isn’t an option for them, for obvious reasons, but they do write letters to each other whenever they’re apart.

Also, on days when Yusuf has to leave early, often while Bart is still asleep, he places little notes near the bed, on his pillow, the nightstand or beside his lover’s clothes.

Usually, he writes a simple “I love you” or wishes his lover a nice day. Sometimes he asks Bartholomew to join him for a dinner later.

He even tried writing a little poem a couple times, and he thinks they’re absolutely terrible, but Bart keeps every single one of these notes in a special wooden box under the bed, along with their letters.

U – Unique (Tell us about some of their odd habits that surprised one another.)

Yusuf was certainly surprised about Chambers being so interested in ornithology.

He found it kind of adorable though, how passionate he was about the topic and could listen to him talking for hours, asking questions and trying to understand some terms he hasn’t heard before.

-

The first time Bart heard his partner sing was also when he found out that Konevi does it in his sleep. Apparently, ever since he was a child, it’s something that would happen when he has a particularly good dream.

 It’s quiet enough to not disturb Bartholomew’s sleep but clear enough for him to actually make out most of the words. Sometimes Yusuf sings softly in his native language, sometimes in English. But either way, Bart finds it strangely adorable and loves to tease him about it, saying that with such a beautiful voice he should have picked a different profession.

V – Vanity (Something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner)

Bart is quite proud of his dancing skills since it’s something he enjoys and is good at.

He could spend hours naming all the things he's proud of in his partner though. His dedication and diligence when it comes to his profession, his intelligence, his kind heart…

However, if he was to admit a much more selfish trait, it would also be how good-looking Yusuf is. He feels a weird sense of pride whenever he hears some ladies talking about that handsome barrister and enjoys the fact that this man’s heart already belongs to him just as just as his heart belongs to Yusuf.

Konevi is proud of his ability to read people. His great at guessing their motivations and intentions based mainly on a short conversation and body language. And that helped him in life a number of times.

He admires how easy it is for Bart to make friends. He seems to always know what to say and acts friendly in every situation, not paying any attention to the titles or wealth of the people he's talking to. It’s just really hard not to like him, at least for most people.

W – Wedding (Tell us about your wedding headcanon if they’ve gotten that far. Or if not, have they talked about it?)

Unfortunately, there was no way for them to have a traditional wedding, not in the times they lived in. But not many people know that they had their own little ceremony. At home. They organized a small party, written their vows and celebrated their love with their closest friends.

Since Bartholomew has always loved weddings but couldn’t marry the person he actually wanted to, Yusuf decided to find a way. And years later, Chambers looks back at it as his real wedding, rather than the marriage of convenience he had with Annabelle. At the memory brings the happiest smile to his face.

X – X (Something they hate about the other)

Maybe the word hate is too strong but Chambers is annoyed by two things about his lover:

1.     How he tends to overwork himself.

2.     How much he drinks at some events.

It’s not like he gets so drunk he passes out or anything like that. He just gets rather affectionate when tipsy.

Which Bartholomew is completely fine with when they are behind the closed doors, where Yusuf can give him all the kisses and cuddles and talk about how much he loves Bartie as much as he wants.

The problem appears at social gatherings. Yusuf tends to gaze lovingly at him for too long or make seemingly innocent jokes that make Bart’s cheek heat up until Chambers finally gets him outside for some fresh air.

-

Konevi, on the other hand, dislikes how good Bartholomew is at distracting him from work.

How just his presence and a few kisses causes barrister to lose focus.

Or how convincing he is when he wants Yusuf to stay in bed with him just a little longer.

And how hard it is to say no to these puppy eyes of his.

-

But despite things like that, they wouldn’t want to spend their life with anyone else.

Y – Youtube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

For obvious reasons, it’s not easy to answer this question.

However, it’s worth saying that Mr Chambers has a rather hard time not talking about his partner. Especially when they’re apart, even if only for a day or so.

Mrs Annabelle Parsons swears she would have an impressive fortune if someone offered her a penny for every time she heard Bartholomew ramble about just how much he loves the barrister, how much he misses him when he’s away or even how beautiful and golden his eyes look in the sun. It would be almost cute if it wasn’t so annoying.

Finally, she decided to get Bart a journal for his birthday, so he can pour all this love and thoughts there and leave her alone.

Z – Zoo (Are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?)

When Bart was younger, he dreamed about having a pet parrot. But he quickly realized he didn’t have the money or space to take care of it in a way those beautiful creatures deserved to be treated.

However, his favourite pastime was observing the local birds. If he was being honest, while the caged birds, he saw in some of the nobles’ houses, were beautiful, there was something about seeing those gorgeous animals free that put a wide smile on his face.

And Yusuf was always happy to join him. He admired the absolute focus on Bartholomew’s face, the passion in his eyes and the calm way he approached the animals but also found it so captivating it was difficult to keep his hands off his partner. So most of their trips had to involve kissing breaks. Lots of them, actually. But they wouldn’t have it any other way.