#traditional dining room decor ideas

[sstudiously]

Dining Room Enclosed in Philadelphia Enclosed dining room - mid-sized farmhouse medium tone wood floor enclosed dining room idea with beige walls

[bigpoppadean]

Dining Room Enclosed (San Francisco)

[killthemwithyourawesome]

Traditional Dining Room - Breakfast Nook

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter one

♥ chapter two! ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic) ♥ word count: 2.1k ♥ pinterest board ♥ warnings: reader got hurt by someone they loved before death, reader is shorter than him, bickering, reader loves tea, lonesome reader, alastor invading space ♥ my idea is that reader has a small stereo on her chest that lets out classical music based on her mood. I imagine that it comes from both her chest (softly) and the outside of her manor (loud as fuck).

Your manor is only visible to the town when the lights are on a tall hill and covered in trees. However, even if all the lights were off, people would at least know it's there.

There are two reasons: the tale and the music.

Tale, a story for the newcomers. They speak of a demon who plays music all day, doomed to play music forever. Oh, the music. The music can be heard from even miles away.

It's refined and dainty, and it reeks of misery. The classical music never seems to repeat itself; it goes on and on and on and on. The demons hear you only through your music. When you cry, the violins and cellos grow with a cruel crescendo. When you sleep, the music is soft, almost quiet. Everyone comes to an understanding, assumption, that if the music were to stop, you would be dead.

The demons who try to step closer to your manor will find themselves experiencing unfathomable sorrow and guilt. The sound of your music is the demonic ability you possess, and it's out of your control. Due to the sadness of your death, you are forced into misery in the afterlife. When you were alive, those you loved and devoted yourself to only broke your heart.

Everybody affected by your music feels that grief.

Alastor doesn't understand why people fear your manor. Your love-related pain doesn't affect him at all.

He starts up the hill, moving both on his feet and through the shadows. On his way to your manor, he focuses on the landscape. The landscape is beautiful; the forest below is so dense that the red sky disappears. Personally, he loves the music. He loves tuning in on you and hearing how you're doing. He sparsely gets to visit, so hearing the song of your heart is always so welcoming.

The worst thing to him is how long the damn walk is.

You're in your house, passing through the dining room, when the lights flicker. The people from the nearby town stutter when the usual sad music suddenly becomes upbeat.

Opening the door, you are greeted by Alastor's traditional smile. You're the one that initiates the hug. He gently wraps his hand around you, only for a short time before he pulls away and establishes his distance.

"Long time no see, my dear." He signs, his claws adding a flare to the simple signs. Truthfully, his sign for "my dear" translates directly to "sweetheart," which he's aware of, just putting faith into you understanding what he means.

"I'll start some tea." You sign, turning immediately to the kitchen.

He smiles at the jazz sneaking its way into your music. The people outside know what it means.

Alastor looks around at the new decor; the place is different every time he enters. It's all the things that you enjoyed when you were alive. That's what is most noticeable about you beyond the aura you possess and how stuck you are to the past; you refuse to acknowledge your situation, which is both a curse and a blessing.

From the kitchen counter, you look at him, seeing him behind you, his staff out of his hands.

He leans a bit forward. "I have news! Have you heard of the new buzz, the new project from the princess of hell?"

A small smile forms. "Charlie?" You remember many years ago when she appeared at your door, in tears due to your involuntary magic, begging you to teach her ASL. You politely declined, though you wrote her a long paper about Deaf Culture (often derailing to rant about your opinion on common debates/crazy events). You've never seen her again, but you're confident she's read it.

You continue, "Her projects are... sweet?"

"Sweet and quite peculiar. She believes that demons can be redeemed. How absurd!" His smile grows, his eyes squinting in interest. He knows you're devoted to being good and staying away from violence. He's here to convince you to join her cause.

"Fascinating," you can't help but show your pure astonishment. "She's on our side."

"Oh, how kind you are!"

The tea is ready. You turn entirely away from Alastor, and he lets you. Your thoughts are apparent; he has spent weeks excited about this conversation. He's absolutely fighting the urge to spill out every argument he has; he wants to mention that if you participate, you'll see each other daily. That hasn't even crossed your mind yet.

You pour the tea and take your time, a little nervous to continue the convo. Alastor's eyes remain on your frame, your casual clothing. The last time he saw you, you were dressed up despite spending your days alone.

You hand a cup to him. Neither sign; you stand still, staring at each other and drinking. Both of you already know what the other will try to say next. Your eyes are deep in thought while he is locked on you. The only reason you are doubting being involved with everything yourself is that you know your aura makes others depressed. It is not very good, isolating. On the opposite stance, Alastor always noticed how your music gets positive whenever he's around. He knows (guesses) that in the hotel, with his presence, your saddening demeanor would be no more.

He moves abruptly, you follow, and he sits on a heavily cushioned couch, dipping deeply, which makes him smile. Your soft smile grows—more piano.

"What are your thoughts?" He prompts with one hand. You take a very long sip of your tea before putting it down.

"I wouldn't make them feel comfortable," you explain. "That's all I think about."

"Ever so pessimistic, my dear. You never know unless you come to visit. What do you say?" He grabs his mic and jokingly reaches it to your face, "A simple visit?"

You put a hand to your temple. "My love," you sign without noticing how his lids droop in comfort, "do you really think I would belong?"

He puts his hand to his chin in faux thought. "Of course I do! The princess will approach you with open arms."

You let out a small, broken groan. You're not going to be winning this little debate. Alastor's going to be able to rebuttal everything you say. Knowing that, why is it still so hard to give in?

You put your hands in your lap before returning them to your temples. His smile grows, and the static radiating off him grows ever so prominent, tickling your skin. You look up at him when you notice the change in the air.

The way he looks at you gives away his intentions. He is standing tall in his usual formal way in his seat, but his eyes are ever so casual. He gazes at you more than anything. His smile is still wide and prideful.

You wiggle a finger at him. "Ah."

He squints.

You continue, "You want to see me more, don't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" He plays off, shrugging. "Your captivating presence has every demon in hell dropping their jaws agape."

"Youuuuuu," you smile mischievously, "you want to see me more."

He continues to wave his hands. "Your accusations are futile, go ahead and fill your pretty head with things such as affection," his shoulders bounce as he chuckles, "dreams about how I miss you."

A breathless laugh leaves your lips. Rather than continue the teasing, you let the positive atmosphere linger in the air. You lift your chin with confidence. "Practically admitting it."

"I know what you want me from me." He signs. You smile at how he interpreted it. You don't bother responding. Instead, you give him a sly smile and lift your cup, taking another long sip; his bottom eyelid is twitching.

The last time he saw you, he signed you many compliments and even danced with you to the rhythm of your music. He let you put your hand on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Admittedly, you only started teasing him because you wanted him to tell you that he missed you. Obviously, he did. You didn't expect him to be so stubborn about it.

When you don't respond, he continues. "When I'm here, your heart sings in happiness."

You nod and sign with one hand. "Very true."

"Well, I find the sound lovely."

"Very appreciated."

You watch as he leans back and crosses his legs, lifting and finishing the teacup. You both spend a few seconds without conversation, just looking at each other. In an attempt to hide how flustered you are starting to look, you lean your head back and gulp down the tea to the point where the cup is hiding your face. But you can only keep it in that position for a short time. After finishing the drink, you place it back down, finding that Alastor is already sitting with his fingers intertwined and waiting for you. His eyes sparkle.

"My dear, I missed you very much." And as quickly as the affection comes, it disappears. "I must give the little lady what she wants. There, are you happy?"

"I missed you too, Alastor. Thank you for coming up again."

Sappy, sappy, sappy. Will you agree to return to the hotel with him now?

He straights his bowtie and stands. "My dear, I'm afraid our time here will be cut short; I have a hotel to show you, don't I?"

You stay seated, just eyeing him. Peer pressure, you sigh and try not to roll your eyes. A simple nose exhaling is enough to show him how you feel.

He leans his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do to convince you?"

You finally stand and meet his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous; you love the way he looks at you. He doesn't take his eyes off you when you step close to him. Your hands reach for his overcoat, and you adjust it fruitlessly, only wanting an excuse to touch him.

You smile. "I can cook you something for your long trip back."

"Our."

"Your."

You both lean in, smiles straining.

He tries again. "Our."

"Biscuits, I assume," you turn your heels and motion for him to follow you. The motion you make is beckoning, and when you flick your wrist, he grabs it and pulls you into him. He lets you go to see your response. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You fall for people too easily. His touch is demanding, yet his face is calm, and with how close he is, all you can do is stare up at him. Your feet stumble a bit to adjust to your new stance. He will fight tooth and nail to get you to follow him back; throughout his days, he always wonders what you're doing and your music might sound like. He'll close his eyes and try to imagine the melody in moments of silence at the hotel.

You can't find yourself stepping back. "I'm perfectly okay with where I am." A lie. "Nobody will bother me if I'm out here."

"And nobody will bother you when you're next to me, get it?" After he signs, both of his hands hold your cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth to try and lighten the mood that's getting a little serious.

You try to hold his wrists and pull his hands down, but he fights against you. He lifts your face so he can look at you head-on. The waist bends his body; he curls himself up to you. Your touch falls to his sleeves and then moves to his biceps, your fingers grazing him gently.

The music is fast-paced, like your heart. It sounds almost angelic, a new ethereal sound surrounding it.

"Okay," you fold but then immediately chew on the inside of your lip.

"Perfect!" He presses his forehead to yours quickly before pulling away. He's taking this win. He turns and eyes the room, motioning. "Packing anything?"

With a small sigh of defeat, you place your hands on your temples again. What would you even need? Like a spoiled child, you realize that if you did need something in particular, Alastor would get it for you. You smiled and shook your head to yourself. "I don't think I need anything at all."

"Spectacular!" Another dramatic sign. "Come along then." The fast twirling of his staff blows air onto you when you start to walk behind him, eyeing how his fingers twist. His head turns as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his head dipping as his smile widens. The static in the air becomes thicker.

You take a deep breath. If you can say 'I told you so' to him, you will be bringing it up until the end of time. He knows that, so it's good that he's confident in himself and his deductions. He'll ensure you won't be leaving and isolating yourself any longer.

[daycourtofficial]

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon

Summary: you teach the Inner Circle about your home court’s tradition of mistletoe, and someone begins placing them all around the house to catch you underneath them.

Author’s note: this is heavily inspired by Operation Mistletoe by Wkemeup, so feel free to check that out.

“So you just hang them up so you can what- make out with people all the time?” Mor asks, confusion etched on her face as she takes a sip of her wine.

“Sounds awesome,” Cassian says, taking another bite of porridge.

You sigh, “well you don’t really do it to just make out with people,” sending a pointed glare at Mor. “Previous people viewed it as sacred for it’s healing properties, and many view it as a symbol of fertility. It’s only really grown in the Winter Court, but it’s a fun reminder of who we come from.”

Rhys leans forward, “I’m still confused about the kissing thing, I get using it as decor, I suppose. But why kissing?”

“Like I said,” you say, taking a bite of your cereal, “since it survives the winter and blooms during it; many view it as a sign of prosperity and fertility, so maybe people started kissing under it to prompt further fertility.”

Cassian huffs, “you just made sex sound so boring.”

You roll your eyes and point at Cassian, “you’re the one who asked me about winter court traditions for solstice!”

He glares at you, “yeah, well I was hoping you’d tell me you all jump in the lake naked every year.”

You laugh, “oh so you’ve heard of the polar bear plunge?”

Cassian stills, turning his head to look at you with incredible speed. “So you do do it!”

“Well, I don’t,” you say, picking up your glass to drink, “at least, not anymore.” You say with a wink.

Azriel speaks up, his soothing tone taking over the room. “So if you’re caught under the plant, you have to kiss?”

“It’s bad luck not to. You don’t have to kiss on the lips, most people kiss on the cheek or on the forehead.”

-

You woke up the next morning, coming down the stairs, clinging to the robe wrapped around your nightgown.

Coffee, then getting dressed. That was your plan, after all. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, a big perk to living with early risers being that there’s always coffee ready when you roll out of bed.

You start moving for the doorway to the dining room, to see if anyone is eating so you can say hi, when something catches your eye.

Right above you in the doorway is a sprig of mistletoe, tied together in a bundle with a red ribbon, hanging from the doorway.

You look at it, just as pretty as they are in your memories, the vibrance of the green capturing your attention, when you hear shuffling behind you. You go to turn to see who it is, when a large hand envelops the right side of your face, bringing your left cheek into contact with something.

Not something, someone. Someone’s kissing you on the cheek. Before you can process what’s happening, the warmth that was pressed against you is gone, and Azriel comes striding into view.

“Good morning,” he says nonchalantly, walking out of the dining room, nodding to Feyre as he passes her and out of the house.

You whip your head around to see if anyone else witnessed what just happened, and you see Feyre sitting at the table, a spoonful of porridge stuck midway between the bowl and her mouth.

“Did you- did that - see?” You ask, your flustered state making Feyre giggle in amusement. You bring your hand up to your cheek where he had pressed his lips to you.

You wrote it off as him getting caught up in the idea of mistletoe, until a few days later when you were heading into the library. Your head was down, trying to focus on not sliding since your shoes were still wet from the rain. You look up in time to keep yourself from running face first into someone’s chest.

You reach your arms out to steady yourself against them, apologizing for running into them, until you look up and find Azriel’s amused eyes looking back at you. You look above him, seeing he has run into you right underneath the mistletoe.

“We have to stop running into each other like this,” you joke, as you motion with your finger for him to come closer. You stand on your tiptoes, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck as you kiss him on his left cheek, perhaps lingering a bit longer than you should. Breathing in his piney scent one last time, you pull back, letting him continue on his day.

That night the entire group went out to Rita’s, attempting to have some fun despite the busy season. It seems like these days all of you are working double time to ensure you can keep the day of Solstice free from work.

All of you head upstairs to your private room, just large enough for your group to comfortably lounge about. Azriel stays behind, waiting for a tray of shots to take up the stairs. You decide to stay with him, opting to keep him company while he waits. You would offer to help him carry the drinks, however the shadowsinger’s height allowed him to manuever through the crowd with the tray much more swiftly than you could.

“Is all your solstice shopping done, then?” You ask the shadowsinger, knowing he most likely had finished his shopping months ago.

He flashes you a grin, one he reserves only for you. “Mostly, just little odds and ends left.”

You gasp, “As I live and breathe, Azriel hasn’t finished his solstice shopping? It’s a week away- you’re usually finished by September!”

He rolls his eyes at your playfulness. “There’s one gift left I’ve been waiting for - I just have to go pick it up.”

He leans his left arm against the counter, his body facing the room surveying the area.

“Who’s it for?” You ask, trying not to get too flustered at how close his body is to yours.

He leans in closer to your ear, as he whispers, “Beron.”

He laughs, pulling away from you. You try not to let the disappointment of the loss of his warmth show on your face.

You huff and cross your arms, “fine then, keep your secrets.”

“What about you?” He asks, nudging your foot with his, “any last minute shopping to do?”

You went through the gifts you had bought for everyone, very impressed with some of them. You got Nesta an advanced copy of the next Sellyn Drake novel, some enchanted canvases that allow multiple paintings on them, showing them like a moving picture for Feyre, a hand knit sweater from Winter for Rhys, an exquisite wall mirror for Mor.

Yet you couldn’t figure out what to get the male in front of you. Do you go with simple, so he doesn’t think you tried too hard? Or do you go all out, lay all of your feelings for him out there?

Before you can answer, the bartender presents Azriel with the tray of shots, so you lead him through the crowd of people, walking up the stairs.

You go to turn around and make a comment about how unfair it is that he can manuever through the crowd so easily, when you feel him gently place a hand on your upper arm, sliding down, lifting your hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Your cheeks heat immediately, as he lets go of your hand, pointing above the two of you, where someone has crudely hung a mistletoe plant above the top of the staircase.

He smiles at you, “tradition, right?“ before sauntering into the room to boisterous cheers that the alcohol has arrived.

The next few days pass and more and more mistletoe made appearances. You found yourself running into Azriel underneath them, wondering if he was catching anyone else under them.

Rhys was grumbling about his house being ruined by the plants, crudely hung by a nail from doorways, arches, balconies, really any surface, but the rest of you seemed to enjoy them.

Azriel wasn’t the only one you ran into underneath them, having run into Cassian a few times, who loved making a big show of it whenever you two were caught under one.

“Oh, sweetheart! We’re caught under the mistletoe! Whatever will we do?” He dramatically, and quite loudly, said to you one morning.

“Good morning Cassian,” you say, as he wraps his arms around you, planting an overly dramatic kiss to your cheek.

He pulls away, letting you go, starting to walk off, but he turns around and smirks while looking somewhere behind you before he’s gone. You look around, but can’t find anyone nearby.

You weren’tt the only one caught under the plant, with most members of the inner circle caught once or twice underneath the plant. You had caught a glimpse of Elain and Lucien underneath one, turning on the spot to provide them with some privacy.

You got caught under it with Nesta, who kissed you on the lips like her life depended on it. The kiss caused Mor to wolf whistle at you two, and Cassian had to pry Nesta off of you after he felt like it was lasting too long.

But it was mostly Azriel, him always catching you when you’re walking through a threshold where the mistletoe is dangling. He had kissed your forehead, your hands, the top of your head, but usually it was on your cheeks, and as much as you enjoyed the kisses, each time you secretly hoped he’d kiss you on the lips.

Rhys sighs, walking into the living room to find that Azriel and Cassian have already been by here, the room covered in mistletoe. From his beautiful crystal chandelier (a delicate heirloom, he grumbles), to the doorways where they’re crudely hung (those nails will leave holes!), to the ones hanging from the ceiling (really?), Rhys is tired of the plant.

The fresh scent of it coats the room, as he walks towards his mate and hangs his head in her shoulder. “What did I do to deserve this?” He grumbles to her.

She giggles, closing her book, “come on, it’s only a few more days, Azriel has some plan cooked up.”

His grip on her loosens, his body going even more slack against her, “yes but why does my house have to suffer for it?”

She coos, stroking his hair as he pouts.

“I think it’s romantic. Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when I caught you under one last night.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, as Rhys begins kissing her neck.

As if he summoned them, Cassian and Azriel come back through, holding massive bags of mistletoe.

“I’m just saying, Az, you’re going through a lot of effort. I say you just plant one on her.” The general says, shrugging.

Azriel rolls his eyes at his brother, “Not everyone is wooed by someone just ‘planting one on them’.” He replies, using finger quotes at the end.

Cassian sets down his bag as a grin overtakes his face, “so you are trying to woo her.”

Azriel gives him a look that would terrify a lesser man.

“Considering the effort he’s going through, Cass, it’s quite obvious what he’s trying to do,” Rhys responds, “even though he’s ruining my house to accomplish it for a girl who looks at him like he created the night sky.”

Feyre tuts at Rhysand, as he straightens off of her. “Well, I find it sweet, Az. And this is my house too, so continue on.”

Azriel smiles at his high lady, grabbing Cassian’s bag of mistletoes as he walks out, blatantly ignoring Rhys and Feyre’s intense staring at each other as they are obviously arguing telepathically.

-

You had left for the day before Solstice to return to Winter to drop off some gifts, but hurried back to Night to be able to spend all day Solstice with your new family. You returned to find the house a green chaotic mess, with mistletoe hanging everywhere. Dozens and dozens of sprigs sprouting from the ceiling, almost looking like a garden on the ceiling.

You can’t find Azriel anywhere, unsure of where he’s gone off to. You actually get caught under a mistletoe with both Rhys and Feyre, each of them kissing you on the cheek, Rhys muttering something about not letting live plants in the house anymore as he pulls away.

You eventually retire to your room, deciding if you can’t find the spymaster, you’ll take a nap to prepare for the evening’s festivities. It’s the night before Solstice, and everyone seems to usually spend the days leading up to the holiday drinking their asses off.

Later that evening, after you took a glorious nap, a nice bath, and spent a while getting dressed and ready, you went up to Azriel’s door, knocking softly on the wood.

He opens the door after a moment, taking longer than he usually does, and he smiles down at you, his build taking up the entire doorframe.

“Hey Az, can you come to my room for a sec? I need your help.”

He nods, closing his door behind him, following you across the hall into your room. You open your door, letting him into your space, and shut it behind him. “What did you need help with?”

You pull out the box you had been holding behind your back, presenting it to him. “Open it,” you tell him, putting it in his hands.

The tips of his ears redden, “aren’t we exchanging gifts later?”

You smile, “yeah, but I wanted you to open this one now.” He undoes the ribbon on the box, opening the lid to find a piece of parchment. He sets the box down on your nightstand, standing up straight to unroll the parchment.

Neatly written in your handwriting are the words “Look up”. He does as the parchment says, looking towards the high ceiling of your room to find a small mistletoe hanging directly above the two of you.

“Happy Solstice,” you say, grabbing his shirt and bringing him towards you. You stand on your tip toes, bringing his face into yours.

At your words, Azriel swears he forgets how to breathe, much less think, as your lips cover his. You taste like cookies and coffee, a taste he wants to get lost in when he realizes he hasn’t moved, standing still like a complete buffoon.

He wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss. He causes you to lean back, dipping you as he deepens the kiss.

When he pulls away, his eyes aglow with joy and humor, he reaches beside himself, pulling something from the shadows.

“If you’d like to open your gift,” he tells you.

You unwrap the wrapping paper, opening the box inside containing another sprig of mistletoe. You laugh, but Azriel starts speaking.

“I asked Kallias to bless it. It is an immortal sprig now. I just picked it up this morning from winter.”

He fidgets with his hands, a little worried this gift isn’t as great as he thought it was. “It’s a little piece of home to have year-round. I know how much you love Solstice.”

You smile up at him, “I love it,” and kiss him again.

He pulls back, obviously needing to tell you something. “Um- it was me, all the mistletoe around the house and everywhere we went.” He raises his hands to gesture all around. “Well it was mostly me, but Cassian helped a bit.”

He sighs, “he caught me one night, hanging them up. Nosy bastard,” you giggle. “So he insisted he help, then big blabbermouth told Rhys and Feyre.”

You laugh, appreciating how much effort he truly went to to do this.

“So I may or may not have been sitting in my shadows all week, waiting by mistletoes for you to walk by.”

Your jaw slackens at his admission, but before you can say anything, he continues. “Cassian beat me a few times when I was about to come out and kiss you. He’d gloat all night about it.”

The shadowsinger rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics.

“But what about the one at Rita’s? How did you do that one?” You ask, confusion lacing your voice. “I was with you the moment we walked in.”

He smiles, a shadow coming by you holding a sprig of mistletoe. “They can’t resist if I ask them to do something for you.”

You throw your head back to laugh, but he wraps a hand around your neck, capturing your laugh with his lips.

[burntsecrets]

Cozy Vibes and Apple Pie 🥧

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: Sam and you celebrate your anniversary by spending the day doing all the fall activities you can. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mild horror themes, mild language, jump scares, mention of supernatural elements

The piercing shriek of the alarm clock startled you from your slumber. You rolled over, your brain on autopilot, and smacked your hand on the alarm clock until it stopped its programmed morning annoyance. Exasperated, you flopped back onto the bed and stretched. It was then that you realized there wasn’t a warm body beside you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Sam’s absence.

While it was true that Sam was an early riser, he wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Today was the first of October, and he was breaking your anniversary tradition by not being in bed with you.

“Sam?” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

No response. The silence of the underground bunker stretches unnaturally, making you feel a little lonely. You throw the covers off and pad barefoot across the cool floor, tugging on one of Sam’s flannel shirts over your sleep clothes. As you wander through the bunker’s winding halls, you catch a faint whiff of something familiar—cinnamon and coffee.

You follow the scent to the kitchen, where you find Sam standing at the counter, his broad back turned to you as he pours hot coffee into two mugs. A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean against the doorway, watching him. He’s already dressed, his hair a little messy, a few pieces falling across his forehead.

“Breaking tradition, Winchester?” you tease, crossing the room toward him.

He turns, his face lighting up with a soft smile that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Thought I’d surprise you,” he says, holding out a mug. “Pumpkin spice latte… homemade.”

You raise an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re really embracing the fall vibes, huh?”

He chuckles, handing you the warm mug. “Well, it is our tradition. Coffee first, then sleeping in—right?” He pulls you in close with his free arm, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The familiar scent of Sam—leather, books, and something earthy—mixes with the spices of the season, grounding you in the moment.

“Mmm, you’re forgiven,” you murmur against his chest. “But only because this smells amazing.”

The two of you sit at the long dining table, the warm glow of the bunker’s kitchen lights wrapping around you like a blanket. As you sip your drinks, you both chat about the day ahead—the plans you’d made months ago. The first of October always meant cozy fall activities, starting with sleeping in, but Sam’s eager spirit had other ideas. 

“We can still sleep in tomorrow,” he says, an amused glint in his eye.

You find yourselves in a nearby pumpkin patch a little later in the morning. The crisp October air brushes against your cheeks, and the leaves overhead flutter in shades of red, gold, and orange. Sam walks beside you, his large hand wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring. A breeze rustles through the corn stalks that line the edges of the patch as you both scour the rows for the perfect pumpkins.

“This one’s too small,” you say, holding up a tiny pumpkin and making a face. “It’s cute, though.”

Sam laughs, leaning down to inspect it. “You said you wanted cute decorations for the bunker.”

You smirk. “I want cute and impressive.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow and gestures toward a massive pumpkin further down the row. “How about that one? It’s big enough to be both.”

Your eyes widen at the size. “How are you even going to carry that thing?”

Sam shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Super strength, remember?”

You laugh, watching him effortlessly hoist the pumpkin over his shoulder, his grin boyish and proud. “Show-off.”

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more cozy autumn traditions. You make your way through a corn maze, where Sam takes the lead, but you manage to beat him to the exit by sneaking through a shortcut. The two of you carve pumpkins back at the bunker, the table covered in newspapers and the scent of roasted pumpkin seeds filling the air. The soft hum of classic rock plays in the background, courtesy of Dean’s extensive vinyl collection.

Later that night, you’re curled up on the couch in the bunker’s media room with Sam, a stack of horror movies on the coffee table in front of you. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the TV and the string of orange fairy lights you’d strung up earlier in the week. You’ve got a cozy blanket draped over both of you, and Sam’s arm is around your shoulders, pulling you close.

Just as you’re about to hit play on the first movie, the door to the room swings open, and Dean strides in, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and a pie box in the other.

“Well, if it isn’t the sappy lovebirds,” Dean announces with a smirk. “I knew you two were gonna be holed up in here.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“Crashing your little date night, obviously.” He drops the pie and beer on the table and plops down on the other side of the couch, making himself comfortable. “You didn’t think I’d let you watch all the good horror movies without me, did you?”

Sam sighs, but there’s a playful grin on his face as he hands Dean a beer. “Figured you’d show up at some point.”

Dean’s eyes narrow as he opens the beer. “Oh, and I brought pie. Apple. You’re welcome.”

You can’t help but laugh as Dean makes himself at home, jabbing fun at you and Sam between bites of pie and sips of beer. It’s not long before the three of you are engrossed in the horror movie marathon, the room filled with the flickering light of the screen, the sound of jump scares, and Dean’s constant commentary.

“So, which one of you is gonna scream first?” Dean teases as the music in the movie grows tense, signaling an upcoming scare.

“I’d be more worried about you, Dean,” Sam shoots back, his arm tightening around you.

You smile, leaning into Sam’s side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Despite Dean’s teasing, you feel content—wrapped up in the coziness of the moment, the fall traditions, and the people you care about most. 

As the night goes on, the three of you continue your movie marathon, pie plates empty and beer bottles scattered across the table. Dean eventually drifts off to sleep, snoring softly on the couch, and you glance up at Sam, who’s still wide awake, his eyes fixed on the screen but his hand tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispers, his voice low and warm in your ear.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline. “Happy anniversary, Sam.”

With Dean snoozing away and the horror movie playing in the background, you couldn’t imagine a better way to end the night—cozy, content, and exactly where you belong.

[deathbypufferfish]

It's finally done cooking, my sims gameplay ideas list! After scouring all types of sites, generators, lists, and my brain for ingredients, I've come up with a list stew that hopefully will spark some inspiration for your sims gameplays!

This non exhaustive list consists of ideas that are applicable to sims gameplay/things to do in-game. AKA things that can be played out in the sims or half pretended. If you're looking for less-gameplay story ideas, I recommend my story/conflict idea list. Most of the conflict and love ideas are on that list. Please feel free to send asks to add to the gumbo! Just note in your ask that it's for the gumbo and keep it applicable/feasible for gameplay. (To keep the post from getting too long I'll make a contributor list into a compressed image later on for those who send off-anon.)

If you are looking for more complex, in-game story ideas check out the Story Soup list here!

🍲 Gumbo below the cut! ⬇

Single Sim Gameplay:

Learn an instrument

Learn a new skill

Start a seashell collection (Island Living)

Have a sim get a bad haircut

Enroll an Adult/Elder sim in university

Use a skill you don’t usually play with

Become a mountain climber

Build a Servo

Take care of local strays

Use more likes/dislikes

Conflict:

Drop out of or fail university

Drop out or fail out of highschool

Talk badly about another sim in your house to other sims

Sim loses their job

Failed retail business

Family:

Foster a child

Parties for children

Have a baby shower

Have a slumber party

A grandparent/other family member moves in with your main household

Have a specific family holiday tradition besides the in-game ones

Family bike rides

Game night

Parent trains child in their sport

Family hikes at Granite Falls

Family volunteering

Bake sale (entrepreneur table)

Have a family photoshoot

Have teens study at the library

Have your teen go through a bad fashion phase

Host an exchange student

Make school picture day photos (Teen poses, children poses)

Have an arts & crafts day

Go fishing as a family

Have a specific weekly meal (spaghetti night, a fancy meal)

Make ice cream together (Cool Kitchen Stuff)

Wear matching pajamas for holidays

Have a bake off

Play with voidcritters (Kids Room Stuff)

Granola family (camping, hiking, low tech, simple living)

Play in a multi-generational household

Adopt

Family reunion

Unexpected baby

Have siblings share a room

Social/Activities:

Sports party night (e.g. watching the superbowl, world cup, etc)

Start a book club (with clubs)

Have a themed kids birthday party (Here’s a helpful website for ideas)

Have a potluck (buffet tables)

Garden party

Neighborhood party

Neighborhood holiday decorating contest

Host a haunted house in your home

Picnic

Barbeque party

Go to the arcade

Go regularly to restaurants (Dine Out Reloaded Mod to make restaurants tolerable)

Have an out of control party (maybe a teen party)

Go camping

Go to an Ice skating rink/roller skating rink

Spa day (at home or at a spa)

Make an army of snowpals

Movie night

Stargazing night/camp out in the backyard

Weekly bowling night

Museum trip

Karaoke night at home

Campfire night

Pool day

Weekly meetups with friends at a cafe

Try on wedding dresses with a bridal party

Have someone stay over (Growing Together)

Love:

Hook up with a service sim

Have a vacation romance

Have a “meet the parents” moment

Have an affair

Divorce

Marital fight

Rejected proposal

Throuple/Open Relationship (Open Love Life Mod)

Left at the altar

Use fear of commitment, jealous, or unflirty trait

Create a rocky marriage

Challenges:

Spend too much money on a vacation

Play with lot challenges

Use simple living (only cook with ingredients and do grocery orders)

Don’t clean up after sims (don’t drag plates, laundry, trash)

Use the Reduce and Recyle lot challenge for realism

Use the Filthy lot challenge to make cleaning harder

Lose a large sum of money

Randomize your sims’ traits as they age up

Household:

Have puppies and kittens

A serious house fire (either with cheating or with fireworks. There is also a mod for more intense fires here

Spring cleaning

Garage sale

Visit houses before you move into them

Create a storage room/attic (Eco Living boxes, Discover University chest, toy chest, treasure chest etc) Use this for old heir’s items if you are playing a legacy

Start a garden (herb, vegetables)

Renovate the house

Watch what your pets are doing

Adopt a stray animal

Teach your pets tricks

Upgrade objects

Have a home bar/rec room

Go on a vacation

Play with roommates (additionally have them be odd, difficult, or a romance option)

Have an always messy home

Hire a live-in butler

Hire a regular maid

Location:

Play in a sustainable community on one of the islands/isolated areas. (community farm, community space, homes)

Play in a tiny home (Tiny Living)

Play in a haunted house residential (Paranormal Stuff)

Become an Archaeologist. Live in Sulani and regularly visit Selvadorado for work

Career/Business:

Bookstore

Art gallery: sell your paintings or buy them off Plopsy/Buy Mode

Bakery

Play a career you don’t usually play

Winter sports store in Mt. Komorebi

Own a farmstand for your produce (Eco Lifestyle entrepreneur table) You can even build a small building for it on your property!

Pet supplies store 

Plant store

Tourist gift shop

Mattress/Bed   store

Florist shop (Flower Arranging Skill)

Juicery (Juice Fizzing Skill)

Yoga studio (host classes at a retail business or at a home studio)

Start a Bed and Breakfast/AirBnB with the roommate system

Become a celebrity in a path besides Actor/Actress (Author, Chef, Video Creator, Skier, etc.)

Food truck (Restaurant)

Fish stall (Entrepreneur table)

Make a living on Plopsy

Wool store (Cottage Living)

Natural health store (Herbalism)

Resources Used

ADAM DRIVER GIF DISCLAIMER: YES I KNOW IT'S A STEW

[1d1195]

Traditional IV

Nothing like being quarantined in June of 2023 to get a little timely writing done. I hope you enjoy this part, I feel like it's moving a little too slowly but I promise I have some pretty good plans and I hope you'll find it's worth the wait.

Accidentally a little close to 6K words, whoops. Read the rest here: Traditional

She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

She took a deep breath as the driver stopped in front of Harry’s home. It was her first time here and while she thought Harry had been nothing but a gentleman over the last month, she also knew this was his home and that meant it was his rules. Added to the fact that Niall touched her (albeit in a friendly way), she thought she might not make it out of here.

She opened the car door and started up the pathway to the front door. The only time Harry ever let her open her own door was when he wasn’t around. For the evening she decided on her favorite pair of black jeans. They were stretchy and comfy despite being jeans. They went with everything too. And instead of a zipper there were just three buttons. Per her personality, she didn’t think she looked good in much, but these were all but magic jeans that (objectively) made her butt look good. She paired the good jeans with a plain bright blue T-shirt. Nothing special. Harry said dress comfortably.

She knocked twice on the door swallowing a lump in her throat.

It was as if Harry was waiting by the door because her hand hadn’t even made its way back to her side. She released a breath she was holding as Harry smirked at her. “Hey beautiful,” he hummed sweetly. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Harry Styles looked at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble and still called her beautiful was enough to make her pass out. He didn’t seem the same bit as irritated as he was earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t get an earful after all.

“Hi.”

“Y’nervous?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Y’know you’re supposed t’be nervous because m’your boss’s boss not because of this. This was my choice.”

“Both were your choice.”

“I already told you, love, Niall picked you,” she twitched very slightly at Niall’s name. Harry of course noticed. His smirk deepened.  “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the inside. Sliding past him, she heard the door click shut behind him.

Harry’s house was pretty big for one person. She liked how open it was: the staircase was right in front of the door. It led to a little area that overlooked the main room. Almost like a loft. The main room flowed into a dining room and the kitchen, side by side. All rooms were still very open. She of course didn’t know which rooms were down the hall, but it was honestly the home she dreamed of. She could see through the slider he had a big back yard and a porch swing looking over the yard.

Whenever this thing with her and Harry ended, she would have to kindly ask for the floorplans. This place was perfect. She was in awe he was willing to slum it in her small (but no less beautiful—he did pick it out after all) apartment for the last month.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island while she looked around the rooms. It was sparsely decorated. Anne and Gemma were always on him about that. But he was waiting for someone to decorate it for him...someone like her.

“This house is beautiful.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, kitten.”

“I want the floor plans,” no time like the present to ask.

He wanted to say there was no need for her to have them. He wanted to say the house was all hers. It didn’t even feel like home until she stepped inside. She hadn’t even sat down yet, and Harry could hardly breathe, feeling how whole he felt with just her presence gazing out the window. Harry nearly proposed because the idea of her living in a house without him seemed ridiculous. He grinned. “Will do, love...can I get you something t’drink?”

*

They ended up on the porch swing after dinner. She kicked her shoes and held the glass of wine in her hands. Tomorrow was Saturday so she didn’t seem to mind drinking today. Harry made her Ramen, and they ate it at the table before moving outside. “You’re a very good cook,” she told him to which he smiled so brightly at the compliment she thought she might go blind.

With one foot tucked under her and the other one dangled over the edge, her toe was barely touching the ground. Harry, with the longest legs in the world was flat footed on the ground, gently rocking the pair of them. Harry was so close to her she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Are y’warm enough, kitten?” He asked. Every time they were together, he worried she would be freezing all so she wouldn’t inconvenience him.

She nodded. “Wine makes me warm,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Good.” They sat silently for a bit. Listening to the sounds of the outdoors. Harry scrolled on his phone for a moment, something he hated to do while he was with her, but he couldn’t help it much when he was constantly getting notifications about his business. “Sorry, love,” he said softly as he checked on one important notification.

“It’s really okay,” she promised sipping her wine. “I feel bad I’m here interrupting your evening to begin with.”

He frowned and put his phone back in his pocket. “Kitten, you’re so confident at work...and y’should be of course...how come you’re so hard on yourself outside of work?”

She shrugged. “I know I’m good at working, I’m not very good at the whole relationship thing...obviously. Even more so the whole companionship thing either.”

His frown deepened and he watched as she sipped from her glass. She cradled it in both hands nervously rubbing her thumbs along the sides. “I don’t know what y’mean by ‘obviously.’”

“Well, I was previously in a relationship for three years but the reason it ended is because I caught him fucking another woman in our bed,” she said bluntly. Harry’s eyebrows perked up. He hadn’t heard her swear once since he’d known her. “I would assume that was because I wasn’t good enough...so now I’m not sure I know how to be a girlfriend...I feel like I certainly don’t know how to be a companion.”

Harry put his hand to his mouth, trying to think of all the words he wanted to say next. “Love, your ex is a proper idiot,” he said. “His...unfaithfulness has nothing t’do with you. He is so wrong for losing you,” Harry let the words sit between them for a few moments. She was quiet. Harry waited for her to say something or to let the emotions filter through her brain. In a matter of a month, she had a boyfriend, didn’t have a boyfriend, started an internship, a companionship, and moved into a new apartment. There couldn’t have been much time for her to process everything.

Harry didn’t care if they sat there the rest of the night. She needed to know that, and she needed to know she was perfect. Her ex was a complete moron for losing her. Harry wasn’t even dating her, and he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on just to exist. Eventually, she bit her lip and quietly whispered to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t need a thank you. So he continued his assurance that she was all but angelic. “As for this,” he gestured between the two of them. “I know ’ve only known you a month...and I know you’re new at this, but you’re lovely. I really believe that. There aren’t really rights or wrongs when it comes t’this,” he promised.

“I haven’t even slept with you yet...let alone kiss you,” she muttered. “I’m the worst at this.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you done this before?”

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable but he would rather die than lie to her. “A couple times,” he admitted. “Not in a few years.”

She nodded. “How come...you don’t make me sleep with you?”

He snorted at the implication. “Kitten.”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean...you could...not pay me. This could be over.”

He could just tell her right now that he was in love with her. More than the first day he met her. Harry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He had dated a good amount before her. No one ever took his breath away like she did, so he was certain it had to be love. Harry never got jealous before today...especially because of his best friend. “Do y’want it t’be over?” He decided to ask instead.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to say this without putting my foot in my mouth so I’m just going to say it and know I’m not trying to offend you,” she paused and looked at him for a moment. He nodded his head. “Despite our arrangement, I’m really glad I met you. I like hanging out with you. And I think you’re right...I wouldn’t have found someone as nice as you if you didn’t come along.”

He smirked. “And outbid them?” He winked.

“That’s not why I picked you,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you what I wanted.” They sat quietly side by side, rocking gently for another moment. In all her efforts to avoid the topic of Niall, she felt she had no choice but to ask herself. “Did you tell Niall about us?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I want to, though.”

She frowned. “Any way I could convince you otherwise?” She asked tentatively. She tapped out a rhythm on her glass with her fingertips.

He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s very discreet. And he already knows you,” Harry reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be nice not t’hide it with someone at work?”

“Isn’t he going to look at me like I’m...”

“He’s not going t’look at y’like anything but you, love.”

She sighed. “It’s your show,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell him if y’don’t want me to,” he answered with a shrug of his own.

She turned to him, her foot that was previously tucked under her, fell back toward the ground. “You won’t?”

He sipped his own glass of wine. “If s’gonna make you uncomfortable, of course not.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I’ve never met any guy like you before, Harry.”

He smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think it might be my favorite thing.”

The idea that any part of Harry’s personality was her favorite anything had him nearly bubbling with excitement. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe all day tomorrow too. “You can tell Niall...he is your best friend.”

He could feel his face smiling so much he looked at the glass in his hands. He would tell Niall tomorrow when they golfed bright and early. “Do y’like Niall?” He asked quietly.

“I do,” she said and Harry thought he might die. His heart seemed to stop beating all together. “He’s my boss. He’s a great teacher and—”

Harry shook his head and swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t want her to like him. “No...love...I mean...” he trailed off.

She tilted her head at him in confusion and then at once her eyebrows shifted up in surprise. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Look,” he started. “I...I don’t think you’re like this, but ’ve had girlfriends and companions only like me for m’money and they don’t...” he shook his head. “If y’like Niall I just want t’know.”

She frowned, thought for a moment and then leaned toward Harry and quickly pecked him on the cheek. Like an absolute child he thought about never washing his cheek again. She rested her head against his arm and Harry tried to stay perfectly still so as not to move out of this perfect position. Eventually, she shook her head. “If...if you stopped paying me, I’d still want t’be friends. I don’t like Niall like that, I promise.”

His heart soared. “You would?” He asked.

“Do you have any friends besides Niall? Or are all your friends paid for?” She giggled cutely.

He chuckled at her joke. “I have other friends.”

“I’d...like to meet them sometime, if that’s possible.”

Harry didn’t know how to tell her she would meet them at their wedding, so he just said, “sure thing, kitten.”

*

Harry didn’t really know how to broach the topic to Niall, so he just went for it. Right as he took one of his first swings. “Are you kidding me, Harry!?” He shouted. “You messed up my shot!” Smirking, Harry leaned a bit on his club waiting for Niall to process the words he said. “How much do you pay her?”

“None of your business.”

“I would have been your companion if I knew you’d pay me more.”

“You’re not my type,” he said unaffected by Niall’s quip. “You still make more than her,” he shrugged. Harry knew it wasn’t about that though. “She didn’t even want that much. She just wanted enough t’pay for her apartment.”

“This is proof you don’t pay attention to me when I send the intern information to you,” Niall noted.

“I trust you,” he rolled his eyes lining up his tee to take his shot. “You had no idea?”

Niall shook his head. He waited quietly and patiently for Harry to swing. “I thought you just liked her.”

“Well, I do,” he admitted. “A lot.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to make everything the most complicated thing in the world.”

“We all have our talents, Niall,” he deadpanned. Snorting Niall shook his head putting his club back into the bag and getting into the golf cart. “She’s nervous you’ll treat her different.”

“If I didn’t know for the last month, I would say it doesn’t affect her work ethic or anything. I wouldn’t treat her differently if you told me before.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” They were quiet as they got to their next shots and finished the hole. Gathering their belongings, Harry drove them to the next one. “I really like her,” he told him.

Niall could tell that Harry really liked her. He never got too attached to girls or wispy about them. He certainly didn’t concoct a day of golf for Niall to talk about them. As Harry’s best friend he was very grateful he had found someone he liked so much. Even if it was naturally complicated. Niall smirked. “Good for you,” he said almost if he was congratulating Harry. “You deserve a nice, sweet, girl,” he told him. “I will take full credit at the wedding that you wouldn’t have met her if I didn’t pick her to be my intern.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend as they got ready for the next hole.

But there was no way Harry could deny how dreamy it felt to think about marrying the pretty girl.

*

During her Starbucks runs she always forwarded the office phone to her cellphone. Carrying the tray containing Niall and Harry’s drinks, she had her shoulder pressed to hold the phone in place next to her ear. Additionally, she picked up a bunch of documents for Niall at the print shop and since then it had been nonstop phone calls. So, her hands were full. She thanked the man on the elevator for pressing the button for her and hurried off to settle the items down.

She turned the corner to her office, and it took her several moments after the fact to realize what happened. She heard someone screaming and it was a full minute before she noticed it was herself that screamed. “Holy shit,” she didn’t know the guy that bumped into her. In a daze she thought that maybe she had never seen him before this very moment. But her skin was burning, the empty coffee cups were on the floor and the documents were everywhere.

All she could manage to think about was how glad she was she wore pants and a chunky sweater today.

She was gasping like the air wasn’t coming fast enough and was still unsure why. “Darling?” Niall was suddenly there shoving him out of the way, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gather the attention of her eyes. She had to be in shock. All she knew was that she was in so much pain. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” he promised calmly. He was assessing the situation, looking her up and down seeing if he could figure out how to help so she didn’t get sent into a full-blown panic. It seemed she already was and of course Niall didn’t blame her. Her skin was probably burning. She was covered in hot liquid. Her clothes soaked and probably burning her skin. It didn’t get her face, just her shirt seemed to take the brunt of it and she was so glad she opted for a thicker sweater this chilly fall morning. It very well could have been the difference between a first and second degree burn that was still stinging her skin. Niall gently tugged her through the puddle of liquid at their feet ruining her cute shoes. Niall didn’t even pay any mind to his polished dress shoes getting splashed with coffee. His only concern seemed to be her. “Come on, let’s get you—”

“What happened?”

She had never heard Harry sound like that before in the two and a half months she was interning. The din of background noise stopped at the sound of his voice. Everyone was silent. Obviously, he never sounded like that outside of work either. She was certain it reset her shocked brain. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the sting of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Definitely first or second degree. “M’okay,” she managed but she was trying so hard not to cry in pain in front of literally everyone that came out of their offices to hear her scream and then Harry’s angry tone. He shoved Niall roughly out of the way and she swore she saw Niall smirk at his friend. It almost made her smile, but she was in too much pain to focus on it now. She knew that Niall knew, but true to Harry’s words, Niall made no implication that it changed her relationship with him. Niall pretended like he didn’t know. Or if he wanted to mention it, he didn’t seem to care. Harry grabbed her by the wrist after ensuring it was okay to touch her by a quick scan of noting it was probably the only part of her that wasn’t in pain.

Harry wanted to kill himself for ordering a hot beverage.

“I’m so sorry,” the man that bumped into her whispered.

“You can shut up,” Harry snapped. She couldn’t say anything because she was still in pain and still trying to process anything that happened. “You, pack your stuff,” he snarled directly to the man that she still didn’t even know his name. He blanched at the notion. She gaped.

“That’s not—”

“Let’s go,” he snapped not letting her finish. He marched her away from the puddle of hot liquid and down to his office.

Niall followed behind, grabbing her phone off the floor before it was submerged in tea and coffee. “Don’t pack yet,” she heard him mutter to the poor guy.

“Mr. Styles,” she whispered just in case anyone was listening. She didn’t like to call him Harry in front of anyone except Niall. She knew others weren’t given the privilege and she didn’t want to be treated differently. “Please slow down,” she begged. While her upper body definitely was in worse shape than her legs that were mostly protected by her pants, the stinging pain of her burns amplified as her clothing brushed painfully against her skin. “It hurts,” she croaked. Harry’s hand loosened his grip on her wrist and he slowed his pace breathing out in nearly heavy pants. “M’okay,” she promised.

Harry wanted to scoop her in his arms and carry her the rest of the way. The last ten meters seemed endless as he watched her walk carefully to his office. She was trying not to cry, and it made Harry want to set himself on fire just to see her in pain.

Niall followed behind a few moments later just as she got to the door and Harry slammed the door shut to his office. “You can’t fire him, Harry,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Look at her,” he snapped. “What do y’need, angel?” He cooed, he cupped her face and she felt so embarrassed that Niall was right there to see it all. This would surely make him treat her differently. Somehow, despite all the burns, Harry calling her angel and touching her face was enough to turn her cheeks warm against Harry’s cool hands. She wanted him to touch all over her aching skin. The duality of his tone between Niall and her was so shocking she forgot how to speak. “Should I take her to the hospital?” He asked Niall.

She shook her head quickly. “M’fine,” she promised bravely the tears still stinging the back of her eyes as much as her skin.

Niall was looking at his phone. “You’re supposed to rinse in barely warm water, darling. Should be cold, really.”

Harry turned away from her for the first time and hurried to the closet of his office that she never really paid any mind to. But as she watched Harry the closet was actually a bathroom and if she wasn’t in so much pain, she probably would have made a joke about it. He started grabbing a towel and all kinds of spa things. “I don’t have any clothes,” she said softly to Niall. Her cheeks felt like they were reddening by the second. This was so embarrassing. “Can I have my phone?” She sniffled. He held it out to her tentatively, having wiped it off on his leg of any last coffee. She would have to get his clothes dry cleaned. She tapped on Eleanor’s number.

“Hey love, how’s your day?” Louis answered the phone. It wasn’t uncommon. They often had their lunch breaks together since they worked a mere block away from one another.

“Louis, I need Eleanor to bring me some clothes,” she mumbled looking at Harry making sure everything was in place from the open door.

“Ooh, finally let Harry fuck your brains out. How naughty you did it at work.”

She sniffled. “No...” she shook her head hating that she couldn’t laugh at his joke.

“Oh, hey, babe. What happened? Are you alright?” He asked.

Eleanor must have taken the phone from him. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“S’nothing. I just need you to bring me clothes,” she sniffled, and the tears finally escaped. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, love. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to wear anything, but she had to be professional. She wished she was by herself, and Niall and Harry weren’t in earshot. “I...I think I burned my whole body,” she whimpered. “El, it hurts,” she sniffled. “I...loose pants, a loose blouse,” she told her.

“Darling, you can wear something comfortable,” Niall said. “Don’t worry about the outfit,” he promised.

“Oh, love,” she cooed. “I got it, I got it. I’ll be right there, fifteen minutes. Just have someone send me the information I need,” she said.

“We’re on our way, love,” Louis promised taking the phone back for a moment before they hung up. She opened her phone to her message thread with Louis and Eleanor and handed it to Niall. “Can you just tell them how to get up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. She told him what her passcode was in case the screen locked on him. Niall took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of Harry’s office.

“C’mere,” Harry said and gestured to the bathroom.

This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. She slowly made her way toward the bathroom feeling like the stinging was now a permanent fixture on her body and after all the shock was officially out of her body it hurt more than it did five minutes ago. She was dreading the look at her skin. “Harry, you can’t fire him,” she said.

“It’s my company,” she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint from snapping at her.

“Please,” she begged. He didn’t respond but he saw the way his shoulders deflated just a hair.

“Louis and Eleanor are bringing you clothes?” He asked.

She nodded. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Harry closed the bathroom door. “Harry...” she said softly, nervously. He turned the water on in the shower and let it run.

“That should run for at least five minutes,” he told her.

Which just meant there would just be five minutes until Eleanor was here to help her. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much pain she was in. She supposed it was better than when it initially happened, but she kind of wished the shock was still there to keep her from noticing.

“Y’can probably get in now,” he told her.

Her face burned in embarrassment. “Harry,” she tried again.

“I won’t look. M’not leaving this room if you’re by yourself. If y’pass out, m’not letting you lay in the shower. Just until Eleanor gets here,” he promised. He turned around and faced the door. He stood there silently. Her chest ached almost as much as her skin. It drove her nuts that everyone on the entire floor knew she was in here with Harry and Niall. She was sure the rumors would be awful in a matter of moments. Harry still hadn’t seen her naked and she didn’t want at work to be the first place for it to happen.

“Kitten, please try,” he whispered quietly. “M’really upset you’re hurt,” he told her. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and she could hear how upset he sounded. It was like he was in pain from the burn almost as much as she was.

Assuming Harry wasn’t backing down she decided it was now or never. She sniffled and tried to reach for her shoes but immediately regretted it. She inhaled sharply and stood straight up. “Can you help me with my shoes? I can’t bend,” she whispered. He turned around immediately and knelt to the floor. He carefully picked her foot up, almost cradling her ankle. His fingers skimmed along her ankle strap and unbuckled it. She couldn’t believe how intimate it felt just for Harry to be holding her foot. Carefully he pulled her shoe off and then started on the other. Almost losing her balance she grabbed the counter.

Harry was wildly aware of what this looked like.

Which is why when Eleanor pushed the door open, gasped, then pulled it shut almost as quickly, Harry froze with his hand grasping her ankle. “Whoops, sorry,” she muttered outside the door. “Good for him,” she heard Louis say almost proudly.

She put a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. She honestly thought Niall was probably thinking of ways to fire her solely for her friends being idiots. Harry smirked despite everything, and she was actually grateful for Louis’ joke at her expense because she hated the idea that Harry was upset because of her. “Suppose that’s m’cue,” he murmured.

“Great,” she sighed.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “M’glad you’re okay, kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d be so lucky,” he said causing her skin to warm more than the burn.

*

Eleanor chatted with her throughout the shower and was there to help her with her clothes. She was glad she didn’t have to say it in front of Niall and Harry, but Eleanor knew to bring one of her looser bralettes without an offensive band that could hide under her shirt. She was also grateful that she clearly heard Niall about the comfortable clothing because she wouldn’t be caught dead in this office with a pair of leggings for fear of unprofessionalism. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked at her.

She glanced at the doors hoping no one out there heard Eleanor. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that at work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” El shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

“He can hear you,” she shook her head whispering nervously.

“No, Louis texted they both left to give you privacy. It’s just Louis out there.”

“Who are we to judge what kind of physical medicine you need in a time of crisis?” He asked through the closed door.

“Are you alright?” Eleanor asked. She nodded. The shower helped significantly even if it was freezing cold. “I brought some petroleum jelly,” she said. “Do you want help, or do you want me to do it?” She asked.

“I can do it,” she said and glanced in the mirror at her body for the first time.

“I think your sweater saved you,” Eleanor said.

She nodded. “That and my iced coffee,” she remarked. Her skin was red, one or two spots where the initial impact must have hit would blister, right below her bra-line but she was extremely lucky. The burns did extend to her thighs but other than that she was okay. The stinging was now just a dull ache. She slathered the ointment all over her skin. Everywhere it hurt. She nearly sighed with relief.

It took another five minutes for Eleanor to help her with her clothing and make sure she looked okay. She put on more makeup so she could feel whole again. She was already dreading leaving this office with wet hair. Eleanor opened the door to see Louis sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing to join the little party. Louis sat on the closed toilet lid.

She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Harry left this,” he said holding out a first aid kit. Eleanor placed it on the counter to deal with after the makeup.

“You should ask to go home,” Eleanor said as she reapplied her mascara. “We’ll drive you home before we go back to work.”

She shook her head. “I have to do a few more things...I have to replace those files....and I never got my coffee,” she opened the first aid kit to pull out gauze and she slathered it with more petroleum jelly.

Louis chuckled. “You’re definitely okay.”

“Harry was going to fire the guy that bumped into me,” she said. “Can you cover this?” She asked, passing her bandage to Eleanor and lifting her shirt to her chest. Louis looked at his phone while the girls did their thing.

“Well, he is quite taken with you. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle him on the spot,” Eleanor smirked as she bandaged the most sensitive burns carefully. It was cold in the office, and she was irritated because she couldn’t cover her arms or body with any extra layers. “You’re lucky it missed your hands,” Eleanor said.

She nodded as Eleanor soothingly wiped more jelly along the inside of her forearms where the hot liquid did get her. “What do you mean quite taken?” She asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Even I noticed.”

“He’s smitten, love,” Eleanor giggled. “He can’t take his eyes off you, ever. The whole time we built the furniture when I came in the bathroom to help.”

“He was practically staring at the door like a puppy while you were in here,” Louis explained.

She felt the ever-present warmth in her cheeks whenever Harry’s affection toward her came up. She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

There was a knock on his office door, and she felt awkward that someone was probably coming in looking for Harry and they were about to find a circus in the bathroom.

“Come in!” Louis shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed as she finished the final coat of jelly and rinsed her hands off in the sink.

Fortunately, it was just Harry. Harry, knocking on his own office door. She was going to lose her mind from how ridiculous this all was. “Er...hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“You feel a little better?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

Niall came in behind holding an iced coffee in his hands. “Louis said y’might still want one,” he smirked.

She turned to glare at Louis who smiled excitedly. Like this was the most exciting game he had ever played. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Niall, Harry,” Eleanor began. Oh no. “Would you mind if we drove her home? She wants to stay to replace the files or something, but I think—”

“Absolutely not, please take her,” Niall said quickly shaking his head. He didn’t even need to hear the end of it.

Harry frowned. “Y’didn’t seriously think we were going t’make y’stay love, did you?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s not that bad now...I could—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ll see them both Monday and your work will still be here. You can spare the ninety quid you’d make.”

“You’re only paying her eighteen an hour?” Harry asked, looking at Niall suddenly very aware of how little he was paying her.

“You’re the one that sets the pay, Harold,” Niall shook his head.

“I changed my mind,” she said to Eleanor. “Get me out of here,” she begged.

“Er...” Harry started appearing a bit flustered. She doesn’t know why. Everyone in this room knew he was paying her outside these walls to be in his life. “Do y’think you can drop her off at m’place? I want t’make sure she’s okay...and...I don’t want her t’cook dinner herself or anything.”

If Eleanor and Louis hadn’t said Harry was so taken with her just a few moments ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of his question. She wouldn’t have looked at him when he asked. Again, it was merely the idea of someone taking care of a house pet. Or a boat. He wanted to look after what he paid for.

If they hadn't said anything, she wouldn’t have seen the way his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink when he asked if they could drive her to his place.

“Harry, we’d love to,” Louis responded with a full-blown, impish smile.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter

sorry if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged. Just lmk!

[metalomagnetic]

I was re-reading Dissonance and I wanted to ask if Abraxas ever kept the poison chandelier? Like is it a treasured family heirloom? Or does Lucius just inherit it when his dad dies with no clue why they have this dangerous, tacky piece of decor he can't get rid of because Lord Voldemort vaguely complimented(?) it one time?

It's hilarious that you sent me this ask, while I am still laughing myself to tears (I just read your comment 1 minute ago).

-

The 'homoerotic chandelier' (I am STILL laughing, thank you, truly) is, of course, gaudy; just horrid, really, there's a reason no one was buying it, even with Tom's outstanding sale talents.

Being an impulse purchase (a horny purchase), Abraxas didn't think it through- how on earth will he explain this monstrosity to his father?

He hides it in the dungeons, knowing his father doesn't go there (draft and all).

After Tom disappears, Abraxas might, or might not, visit the dungeons to have a look at it from time to time. He sent hundreds of letters to Tom, but they all returned unopened, so he's convinced his enemy-lover is dead. His cold, tiny heart, is broken.

Once his dad finally dies, Abraxas moves the chandelier to Gringotts, wrapped in a secure box, in the hopes he won't have to think about it (Tom) anymore, if it isn't in his house. At first, he wanted to destroy it, but he couldn't make himself. (It's lucky he didn't try, because that was one CURSED chandelier that would have reacted poorly to violence).

A decade or so later, Lord Voldemort shows up.

Abraxas is furious (happy)! How dare that mudblood be even more powerful than when he left? (how dare Tom just show up, as if Abraxas didn't mourn for him, thought him dead, and grew stupidly attached to an ugly chandelier as a stand in for Tom?)

Everyone is playing this silly game, pretending not to recognise this is Tom Riddle. Abraxas cannot wait to actually meet him face to face and spit 'Riddle' at him; he is a Malfoy, Riddle doesn't scare him! Alas, before he can meet him, he hears old classmates are dropping dead all over the place (the only thing they had in common was that they knew the name Riddle) and he reconsiders. It's not that he's afraid (he's terrified), but he's just cautious. Yes, cautious. He determines is better to avoid Riddle (even if his broken, even tinier and colder heart longs to see him again).

But then his stupid son comes back with a horrid brand on his arm (he remembers Riddle doodling it in his schoolboy silly journal) and Abraxas is horrified. Furthermore, Rodolphus keeps saying Voldemort is unnaturally close to Lucius, that they have many one on one meetings, and Abraxas has had ENOUGH. So he goes to face Riddle and tell him to stay away from his son (he has no idea that once, long ago, his own father went to tell Tom to stay away from Abraxas. Apparently it's a Malfoy tradition, now.)

Anyway, things don't go as planned, Abraxas freezes when he sees what Riddle had done to his previously perfect face. He freezes when he feels the *power* emanating from him. He ends up pretending he doesn't recognise him.

It's a long and complicated story (really, it is) but eventually Abraxas invites Voldemort to the Manor ( to discuss Lucius, of course, no other reason. Not like Abraxas had decade long fantasies of bringing Riddle to his Manor and fucking him in the master bedroom or anything like that). On a whim, he has the chandelier brought back from Gringotts and hangs it in the dining room.

Riddle's new waxy, harsh face does something funny, shows some emotion for once, when he sees it. Abraxas is suddenly hot all over, but they attempt to talk normally until Lucius comes home, bows to Riddle ( the indignity! Lucius should only bow to Abraxas) and then, with a sneer, asks if Abraxas has lost his mind, what is that ugly chandelier doing in their lovely home?

The chandelier apparently doesn't take the insult in stride, and , with a thunder like noise, starts raining poison down on Lucius.

It's fine, in the end. Riddle was always good with spells of all kind, the arrogant mudblood, so he fixes Lucius up, and then sends him to get some rest.

The next morning, when Lucius stumbles out of his room, with a headache from the remaining after effects of the poison, he witnesses his lord getting out of his father's room.

He blinks. Once, twice. He rubs his eyes, frozen.

"You're hallucinating," Lord Voldemort tells him. "From the poison. Go back to bed."

Lucius decides that yes, he must be hallucinating (he dearly hopes so, because why else would he see the dark lord, robe not entirely buttoned up, leaving his father's room at dawn?), and he retreats to the safety of his room.

Another decade later, when his father dies, Lucius decides to leave the chandelier in place ( in his father's room, where it was moved after it assaulted Lucius). He thinks it's wiser not to mess with the thing. Besides, it seemed to matter quite a lot to his old man; Lucius swears his father loved that ugly monstrosity more than he ever loved Lucius.

--

Thank you so much for your comment, and you're at fault for this lengthy, cracky answer! I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Six

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for their patience with these updates every two weeks. This schedule works out perfectly for me, and I don't have to disappoint anyone with delays! I've gotten a couple questions regarding everyone's age for this story which I figured would happen. I kept the ages of everyone vague on purpose. Aegon is between 14-17, Aemond is 11-14, Halaena is 9-11, and the reader is 10-14. No matter what age you pick, they're all still minors. I hope that helped a bit!

Chapter Warnings: Traditional Targaryen family dinner, canon typical violence.

You had a sense of Deja Vu before the wide entrance of the dining hall, only this time, you were not alone. Next to you was your supposed father. You chewed on your lip nervously, pulling the thin scab that covered your marks from earlier.

So many things were left unanswered you had no idea where to begin. Were you truly his daughter?

Your mother was a prostitute; how could he be sure? How did he not know she was pregnant? That is not an easy thing to hide. How many brothers and sisters did you potentially have, was Daemon the monster Ma believed him to be, and who was watching you now, ready to report back to her?

"This is unnerving," you decided to say, not brave enough to voice your questions yet. He snorted, his eyebrows raising for a moment before he shifted his weight and took your arm in his.

"It is unnecessary, but is that not all customs to those unaware?" You mimicked his expressions but turned your gaze down, retaking your lip between your teeth. "Stop that," he chided as a father would, and you obeyed. You couldn't help it; the feeling came as an instinct.

Two guards opened the doors, and another from inside the dining room announced your presence to the family sitting at the great table. As you walked arm-in-arm with Daemon, you became even more ridged than the crown's sworn protectors.

Six sets of brown and violet eyes turned your way. An urge to channel your anxiety overcame you, but you stopped, remembering your father's -Prince Daemon's- words. You squeezed his thick black sleeve instead, and he glanced down at you, his eyes the same as the others.

Aegon was the first to stand in your presence, almost making your blank expression change, the other five soon following. No longer was his short platinum hair stringy, curls sticking to one another, but were clean, nearly a shade lighter with all the dirt gone. His rags had changed into a dark, emerald green tunic, a golden chain decorated with the same colored gems, and the sigil of House Targaryen embroidered on the chest.

Now that the alcohol had wholly left your system, heat filled your limbs, realizing just how handsome he was. His pouted lips stained a light red from wine, and he had a lively pale face with clear eyes. You were still upset with him. This was all his fault. You could have avoided this if he had kept to himself and gone straight to Madam's brothel instead of stealing you away.

As you and Daemon approached the table, you saw Aegon move from his seat, nearly sprinting to an empty one as he pulled it out. You looked to your father -Daemon- questioning whether or not you should accept Aegon's chivalry. He did not indicate what you should do, so you did the only thing you could do in that situation. Take Aegon's hand.

He kissed the top of it, his violet orbs boring into your slightly panicked ones as a grin graced his lips, helping you into your seat. Though Aegon wanted to sit next to you, he thought better of it, returning to the spot next to his sister wife as he took a swig of his drink.

Everyone sat tense. An older woman around Lyra's age with chestnut brown hair stared at you, her gaze like ice, trying to wither away a fresh sprout of spring crops with a layer of frost. Queen Alicent, you realized, the dark green gown and seven-pointed star giving her identity as if she said it herself. It looked as if she hated you simply for being in her presence.

You should have bowed and scolded yourself for not, your eyes wide as the anxiety bubbled into your mouth. You ignored Daemon's earlier warning as you tugged at the loose skin on your lip.

"Prince Daemon," the young Queen spoke, finally breaking her stare from you. "How pleased am I to have heard the news of your arrival. I had presumed you, the Princess Rhaenyra, and her sons would travel together, not one to stray far from your nest."

You looked at Daemon, worried and confused, your gaze traveling between them. The hostility and passive aggressiveness were as plain as the soup the servants brought out, quietly placing the bowl in front of you.

"I saw no need for the Princess to travel in her condition. As you know, pregnancy is such a precarious condition." Daemon did not react to the hidden animosity behind her words, answering as if he was talking about the weather.

The Queen hummed, nodding and pursing her lips as she gathered some soup on her silver spoon. You did the same, imitating her actions so as not to cause more attention to yourself. You have dressed the part of a royal but felt anything like it, accidentally slurping the broth from your spoon.

Muffled laughter came from the left of you, your eyes pausing on the empty seat between Queen Alicent and a man that shared her looks. Aegon was leaning back in his chair with a chalice of wine in his hand. She gave her son a glare opening her mouth before the large dining hall doors did the same.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name," a guard announced, his accent prominent as everyone rose from the table."King of the Andals, the Roynar, and The First of Men."

Four men carried the King on a decorative chair, leaning slightly on his ivory cane and dressed in a magnificent pile of red, gold, and black robes, a small wound on his face. Everyone was staring, their faces somber with a hint of disgust and pity. It almost felt disrespectful to gaze upon a man who held the Seven Kingdoms in his now frail hand, a man who sat upon the Iron Throne, a seat stained with blood and ash. You looked everywhere but him.

The men carried him straight to you, sitting his makeshift throne on the stone floor with a thud. Your gaze was downcast out of fear and respect for this man's position.

"My child," he rasped, his chest heaving with the effort it took to speak, "look at me."

"Come," he ordered, and you stepped closer, a servant to the King. The shadows of the candlelight danced on your skin, hiding your face. He stared into your eyes, his gaze searching for something. His expression was like a maester studying an object from old Valyria, looking at the hidden story behind every crack and dent.

Alicent glanced at a man dressed in the Kingsguard armor, his hair as black as coal, sharing a questioning but frustrated look. Aegon stood like the well-behaved Prince his mother wanted him to be, hands clasped at the front, attempting to hide an ever-growing grin.

How fun this is, he thought, swaying his body like a child waiting for sweets. He finally found something his mother loathed more than him, a kinship forming in his heart. It made him want you more-- made him want to take you to the full-length window in his room and fuck you for all King's Landing to see. It would be you and him, he realized, you and him for the end of time.

"How it gladens me to finally meet my brothers first born," the King said, shocking everyone in the room as he softly stroked your cheek.

Alicent could not hide her scowl from her father, crossing her arms and looking away. Though Rhaena and Baela were not there, she felt pity for them. Prince Aemond, silent for this interaction, quietly scoffed, not enough for his old father to hear but for his young mother to scold him.

"You are a dragon now." King Viserys wanted to say more, mumbling about how he forgot his words as you looked at Daemon warily.

You didn't trust this. Everything was going too smoothly. Even being raised as part of the small folk, you knew it was not customary to give bastards the same position as a trueborn child, especially when it involved the Iron Throne. Perhaps the time had softened the man, no longer a firm believer in tradition. Rhaenyra remained the heir even after Prince Aegon was born, sure to confirm it. King Viserys just wanted a family bound by love for one another.

Unease was all you could feel as you curtsied, imagining what the women at court would look like as Viserys tapped his cane on the ground, signaling his guards for his next destination between the Hand and his wife.

You returned to your seat Prince Daemon nodding once to assure that you did well, a light graze crossing your lower back in comfort.

No eyes were on the King as he told everyone to be seated well into the meal's first course. You couldn't bring yourself to look at anyone, focused on the new plate in front of you and shakily picking up your fork. A male servant topped off the drink you had yet to touch. Its beautifully designed engravings were too precious for your flea-ridden hands.

One stare you could sense above the rest, assuming it was Aegon, you glanced up only to find him throwing back his fifth goblet of wine. It was the other Prince, recognizing his long snowy hair and leather eyepatch as the boy who ran out of Madam's brothel in tears. The same boy who pushed you to the sandstone ground and called you a whore. You knew he remembered you also, twirling a table knife with his nimble fingers, the silver glinting in the candlelight.

You returned his stare, the intensity of a dragon's flame searing into him as he, too, received a plate in front of him. It was a silent battle of wills, waiting for one to inevitably fault and the other to reign victorious. You knew not why Prince Aemond seemed to hate you so. Perhaps catching him in such a weakened state of vulnerability was why, but you saw the same emotions in the Queen. Maybe it was simply because his mother disliked you.

"I am very much excited to have another woman in the family," the small blonde-haired girl said next to you. She looked much younger than you, her purple eyes soft as she smiled kindly.

It was you who lost the battle, giving the Princess your attention as she spoke to you with such sweet words. "I am afraid there are too many boys running around in this castle, and it has become very isolating."

She twirled her thumbs. You noted that nervous habits seemingly run within the family as you searched for a piece of skin on your lips.

"Nobody wants to play with me," she whispered, ensuring her family did not overhear her complaints. "Aegon calls be strange, and Aemond focuses on his studies, but you will play with me? Will you not?"

You felt pity for her, a frown forming slightly in sympathy as you agreed.

"Of course, Your Grace," you nodded, and she smiled brightly.

"Please, you must call me Halaena. We are family now." She grabbed your hands, intertwining them with yours as she lifted them with glee, happy to finally have a friend.

Yes, she had her bugs, the tiny creatures that crawled on her arms as she giggled with delight, speaking to them as if they were human, but they never talked back. She was glad to find something that would finally. You could share her love of the creatures.

The screech of wood against stone echoed in the dim room, the King standing with new confidence as he looked upon his family. He was not blind to the hatred among his kin, but his heart led him, wanting them to love one another as a family bound by fire and blood.

"It lifts this old mans spirits," he began, staring at the children in front of him, "to see my House united. Seeing them sit next to one another as a family should. Bound by their duty for each other." Viserys picked up his goblet, splashing some red drink over the rim with his shaking grip. "Let us drain our cups in honor of House Targaryen's power. The most Dragonriders Westeros has ever seen! And the coming legitimization of Prince Daemon's first born! " He looked over to you, "Perhaps, in some time, young one, you too will know what it is to saddle the beast and claim the skies."

He raised his drink higher, toasting to your future. A future you had not known possible until now. You mimicked his action, as did everyone else, ignoring the burning of your mouth as you downed your wine.

Prince Aemond was red with fury, balling his free hand into a fist, nails biting crescents into his palm. He had never gotten such uplifting words while struggling to claim a dragon. He was the forgotten second son of the King, not good enough even to be a spare, yet this... bastard was receiving the attention he had longed for since he was a small child. Aegon's seemingly glad demeanor only served to worsen his anger.

They had not been close as young children. Aegon constantly taunted him for not having a dragon, even going so far as to give him a pig with the help of his nephews. But ever since that fateful night in Driftmark, the night where Aemond claimed the most enormous dragon in history and had his eye taken as penance. Their father had done nothing to rectify the situation, going as far as to have Aemond threaten to be questioned about where he heard the rumor that ended in losing an eye. 

Since then, it was an unspoken agreement between the brothers always to have each other's back. For Aegon to stand in Aemond's blind spot and for him to always look out for his brother after one too many Arbor Reds. They still did not get along wholly. He was unhappy with how Aegon decided to conduct his daily life as the unspoken heir to the Iron Throne, and Aegon forever wondered how far precisely the stick went up his younger brother's ass.

Daemon's hand patted your knee, reassuring you without needing to be asked. You had not expected a man with the title of "The Rogue Prince" to be so... fatherly, and you could not help but lean into his comfort, smiling at him gratefully.

The feast was finally in full swing, well on its way into the fourth course and waiting for the main to be brought out. A small band played in the corner, the string instruments creating a lively but elegant tune as you swayed to the music slightly. Everyone at the table was tense except for you, your father, and the King; he was too old to be fully aware. If this were how all royal feasts were, you would dread them for the rest of your life.

A hand on your arm stole you from your thoughts, fully expecting it to be Aegon coming to badger you, but saw the dainty fingers of a girl. Halaena was staring at you with a bright smile on her peony lips, asking you for a dance.

You blushed, shying away from her invitation. "I am afraid I do not know how, Princess," you said bashfully. She smiled wider, tilting her head as if she was sharing a secret.

"Do not worry. I don't have much of a knack for it either, but we will be the only two that know, yes?" Halaena looked at you expectantly, holding out the palm of your hand as you stared.

"I suppose so," you grinned, taking the invitation as she whisked you to the open floor.

Neither of you cared about the judgmental looks from the Queen and Prince Aemond, jumping to the upbeat music in no particular order, linking your arms as you skipped together.

It was beautiful to act like your age again, forgetting about the impending future of responsibility that came with being a royal and just having fun. Yes, you were a commoner, but you were never allowed to experience the Festival of the Mother or a celebration of the Harvest Moon. Now, you knew why, but then you saw it as a stupid act of authority by Ma.

You grabbed Halaena's tiny hands, doing a push-and-pull movement while spinning in a circle, your hair loosening from its pinned style. You both made up your choreography on impulse, not worried if it went with the music.

You continued spinning her, laughing as the tempo sped up. Her long golden blonde hair whipped in the air, creating an ethereal look matching her blue dress. Her purple irises sparkled with delight, crinkling with laughter, and she stumbled backward. Halaena stood, dusting off her gown as she returned to you but was cut off by an uninvited, but welcomed participant on Halaena's part.

Prince Aemond stood a few centimeters shorter than you. His hands clasped tightly around his back.

"My apologies for the intrusion," he said to his sweet sister, Halaena blushing and shying away.

"No apologies needed, dear brother," she giggled, "I meant to get a drink." She smiled as she brushed a long strand of golden hair behind her ear, stealing one last dance at her older brother.

You bit your lip, not out of anxiety but from the peculiar interaction between brother and sister. You seemed to be missing something.

"May I have this dance, my lady," he said stiffly, the title forcing its way out of his mouth.

"The song has hardly ended, Your Grace, perhaps the next one," you declined, beginning to take your place next to Daemon, but Prince Aemond grabbed your arm, forcing you to stop.

"I know you have no inclination of manners here in the royal court, seeing as you were raised by..." he trailed off, looking you up and down with distaste, "those of smaller status, I will not take your rejection as insult."

You stared at him, astonished. His words were so proper and sounded so respectful, but they made you feel little, so... small.

"I will ask you again, my lady. Will you dance with me?"

You couldn't refuse, taking his outstretched hand as he led you in dance. You didn't say a word, concentrating on not tripping and keeping up with Prince Aemond's pace.

King Viserys looked on with glee, smiling with his missing teeth as his family danced together. This could be a stepping stone, he thought, to the end of the intermittent squabbling Rhaenyra's children and his own had. If they could extend the olive branch to a bastard of Daemon's, why couldn't they with their true-born kin?

The dance was going smoothly, neither of you talking, serving to your advantage. You knew this was a bad idea to accept Princess Halaena's offer to dance, but now you were interlocked with the One-Eyed Prince, following his move to jump and clap as you switched directions, accidentally landing on his foot.

"Oh, Gods! I am so sorry, my Prince; I did not mean to!" You began, ready to offer a thousand apologies for your misstep, as you saw Aemond's lips purse.

"I am sure it is quite alright." Prince Aegon appeared at your side, wrapping his arm around your hips in a protective manner. "Isn't it, brother?" Aegon practically told his younger brother.

"Of course it is," he said softly.

You glanced at Aegon with discomfort, then back to Aemond, seeing his once pink face shadowed with disappointment and anger as Aegon waved him off. He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his boyish face. He bowed, not making eye contact as he returned to his seat.

It upset Prince Aemond that his dance was cut short. He wanted to spit out all the vile insults he couldn't say to his nephews, but when he saw your nervous face and smelled the calming aroma of your bath oils, he could not find the right words. You were helpless, a mouse cornered by the pursuing tom cat. It simply would not be fair to squash you.

Prince Aemond prided himself on being better than his brother. The son, who studied history and philosophy, kept up on the battle in the Step Stones and was the cupbearer during the council meetings. The throwaway second son, cowering in the first son's shadow.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" Aegon asked, bending at the waist and extending his hand.

You took a breath and steadied yourself, your skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat as you pushed your hair back. You peered past Aegon's shoulder, Daemon's slightly turned figure watching you as a stag was placed on the long oak table. He nodded, and you took Aegon's invitation.

He lifted his arm in an "L" shape, telling you to do the same as you circled each other, the music now a darker sound, but the tempo still upbeat. He smiled. His expression hides a malicious intent, the knowledge of man's sins behind it.

"You look ravishing tonight, little one," he complimented. You quickly glanced at Daemon, ensuring he didn't hear the term of endearment.

"Do not call me that, Your Grace," you whispered pointedly, leaning closer to him. Aegon couldn't help himself as his eyes traveled down your neck, pausing at the necklace your father gifted you and how it complimented your sweat-coated skin.

"Awe, pretty girl, it is just a pet name for you. After all, we are family now," he jabbed, leading you into dance.

"I would hardly call ourselves family," you scoffed, concentrating on not tripping. "I have not been declared as such in the eyes of the Seven or the law. My birth is not yet legitimized." You knew this discussion was futile, like arguing with a child, but you couldn't help it as he continued to bait you.

"My, if only we had an event planned for that very thing," he snickered as you switched directions. Aegon was enjoying this dance, reminding him of the childhood games he played, teasing a donkey with a carrot as he spun you.

"Is this why you brought me here, Aegon? Because you knew I was a bastard?" He shrugged, lifting you by your hips to get you to stop talking. "Why you had me wasted on cups and..." You couldn't finish the sentence, your cheeks heating up from something other than exertion.

Aegon smirked, the candlelight shining on his wet teeth as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him with his arm around your waist. This was improper. You could tell from the soft screech of a chair as you saw Daemon give you his full attention, not yet standing but ready to pounce at any moment.

"Aegon," you said softly, your breath hitting his wine-stained lips. You couldn't think straight. He was too close, and you could smell the sweet Arbor Red on his breath. Your whole body became hot, a wave of heat that felt almost icy, rushing between your legs.

"My sweet girl," he whispered against your skin, and you melted, stopping his swaying as the music ended. You were sure it was the alcohol talking, but you didn't stop him. He grabbed your jaw, the dirt under his fingernails gone as they pierced your skin. "You are so kind and different from the rest of us," he confessed. "You feel different, taste different."

You were unsure what he meant by that, distracted as he leaned his forehead on yours, staring into your peculiar eyes. You didn't care how everything was silent nor how all conversation ended with your dance. It was just you and Aegon, the boy who had shown you all that Ma had sheltered you from. The body that made your pulse quicken and knees weak despite all the wrong he had done to you. You closed your eyes as Aegon did, breathing his air as your lips parted.

The sound of chairs screaming and falling to the stone floor made you flinch, pulling away slightly as your eyes opened. Aegon gripped your jaw harder and, in a split second, was pulled away from you, his nails scratching your skin.

Daemon was a fire of black and red, punching Aegon in the cheek as he grabbed his wool tunic and shoved him against a wall. Prince Aemond was up at the same time as your father, his strides significantly smaller and taking more time as he went to defend his brother.

"You believe you can treat my daughter as one of your whores? Dishonor your wife in such a blatant display," Prince Daemon seethed. The King shouted, but he ignored him, his fist clenching around Aegon's neck.

"She didn't seem to mind," Aegon quipped, a smile forming on his red face.

You stood frozen, unsure what to do, if you could do anything. This was why they called Daemon The Rogue Prince, strangling his kin. The violence had thrown you off center, never having seen anything like it. It was odd how pink Aegon's face became, a vein popping out of his forehead as Daemon squeezed his throat. A voice encouraging you to see it to the end.

Halaena whimpered, plugging her ears and turning away as she saw Aemond attempt to pull Daemon from her brother. Queen Alicent screamed at her personal guard, telling him to protect her son. The others took a moment too long before they went to Aegon's rescue. It seemed as if they did not want to, waiting for explicit instructions.

Alicent's guard unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Daemon's neck. Finally, did Daemon listen, removing his hands from the Prince and stepping away, shoving Aemond off him.

Aegon gasped for air, his ragged breaths breaking you from your trace as you hurried over to him, only to be stopped by your father. Everyone followed suit, questioning him.

"You will do well not to attempt to sully my daughter's honor again," Daemon spat, urging you toward the exit.

"What are you doing," Queen Alicent yelled from her place next to her child. "Seize him!"

The Kingsguard with hair as black as night went towards Daemon, his sword placed back into its scabbard.

"Enough," King Viserys shouted, everyone in the room turning to him. "You saw as well as I what Aegon did. The compromising position he put my niece in," he boomed, the weak King from earlier gone. "He dishonors his wife and her with his actions. My brother reacted fairly," he declared. "The matter is finished. We all must retire for the evening for a joyous celebration in coming with the fortnight."

The Queen had seen this situation years ago in Driftmark when Aemond had lost an eye. No repercussions were ever going to come of this, and Alicent's resentment for Rhaenyra grew, though she had nothing to do with this. Her anger was palpable as you gave Aegon one last look. He smiled, his eyes hooded as he made a funny face. You did your best not to giggle as your father rushed you through the dining hall doors. 

Master List of Series

Thank yooooou for reading! I always feel like I could add a bit more drama to this, but I don't want it to become distasteful. It's only up from here folks!

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[loweya-blog]

Honeycake Part 2

(Just baking stuff, sfw)

It had only been three days after you first baked that honeycake for the brothers but word had already spread to everybody else. Simeon had been trying to “subtly” suggest having tea together while Luke was begging for the chance to bake with you. Solomon offered to join in on those baking sessions with Luke, but you quickly shut that idea down. Diavolo, of course, was saying something about wanting to try new human dishes. Even Barbatos, who was your supplier for human world ingredients, had gotten you just a little TOO much honey. Seeing how your little honey bees practically begged for it, you got to work on baking. 

_________________

Luke

When he heard about this new human recipe, he was excited. He wanted to bake with you but didn’t want to seem too needy or desperate. But when you agreed to his begging request, he was so happy! Baking the honeycake was a new experience since it was the first time he’d ever baked a cake without sugar. Then there was the whole baking using a cast iron skillet instead of a traditional sheet pan. He hadn’t been expecting to learn so many new ways to bake.

You two got to talk a lot as you worked, mostly fun facts about bees. Luke knew about these creatures but eagerly listened as you told him more. He didn’t realize bees were such important pollinators or that they all served a queen! The young angel made a joke about how you were pretty much their queen bee. It was so sweet that you decided not to tell him about drones or any of those smaller details. 

Simeon

He felt it was a bit suspicious when you and Luke sent him and Solomon out to get some shopping done for you. The gentle angel didn’t mind it since it would give him a chance to buy you something nice. However, he did find it a bit odd that Solomon practically dragged them both out of the house. 

All was made clear when he returned to purgatory hall and smelled that sweet scent from the kitchen. The cake was already decorated with berries and powdered sugar, and set on the purgatory table. Before he sat down, he made sure that you and Luke got the gift he’d bought for you both. He handed you a sloth plushy and gave the dog plushy to Luke. Simeon’s heart soared when he saw that delighted expression on your face. He then joined the others around the table, eating the delicious honeycake. Yet to him, you would always be far more sweet than any dessert. 

Solomon

He knew EXACTLY what you two were up to when you sent him and Simeon out on a shopping trip. Solomon wished he could have helped but he knew that you’d rather him not step foot in the kitchen. For some reason. You always were territorial about the kitchen. On the way out, Simeon came up with the idea of bringing a gift back for you. So Solomon stole borrowed that idea and secretly bought you a new magical amulet. His precious apprentice could always use more magical jewelry.

When they returned home, he went straight over to the dining room. You and Luke were there with an already decorated cake, shouting surprise. He smiled and let Simeon give you your plushies. He would give you his own gift later… privately. When he tasted the honeycake, he was surprised. It was sweet but not too sweet, a stark contrast to most of the cakes he had in the human world. Then again… when was the last time he had human world food? He quietly wondered when was the last time he actually sat down and ate desserts without doing some potion or project. Perhaps in these small ways, perhaps this was how you made him feel like he was a human being again. 

Diavolo

When you requested to come over for some tea, he immediately accepted. He even worked extra hard on all his work as Prince so nothing would get in his way for this. The prince even rescheduled some meetings to be earlier, just to leave his afternoon free. Lucifer had been subtly rubbing it in the whole time that he’d gotten such a special treat. More like he mentioned it once. The Prince couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. After all, the brothers got to spend all their time with you and he only got a few precious moments. 

When it was finally time, you were treated like the most important guest he ever had. As always. You were escorted to the tea room and as he had hoped, you had that delicious honeycake with berries and powdered sugar. The idea of you baking a whole cake just for him and Barbatos had him delighted. It went well with the tea too. He enjoyed finally having time to sit down and talk with you, even Barbatos relaxed a bit. He didn’t expect human world honey to be so gentle and sweet. Perhaps it was just how the human world was. Making things sweet and gentle. Like you. 

Barbatos

The demon didn’t even need to look into the future to already know that the others would be begging or dropping hints about wanting some honeycake too. So he decided to take preemptive measures and give you extra honey to work with from the human world. He even began searching for teas that would match the flavor and texture of the treat. As expected, you sent a request to tea right on time. 

What he hadn’t expected was the quality of your baking. He knew that Luke would be helping you but he was genuinely impressed. There weren’t even any bubbles or holes in the cake. What surprised him even more, was when you offered to feed him the cake. Of course, you gave the same offer to Diavolo but he was certainly not expecting it. Somehow you’d always made life that had become so predictable into something unpredictable. Even if it was in small ways. Perhaps he should add this recipe to his own collection of treats. Maybe you, him, and Luke could make mini cupcake versions later? So many choices…

Thirteen

Obviously, the honeycakes were the perfect choice as bait! She knew Solomon wouldn’t be able to resist a treat such as this! So when she invited you over, she clearly was just expecting to use it for her revenge on Solomon. And yet…. When she saw your smiling face and how happy you were making it, a tiny teensy part of her wanted to give it a small try. She didn’t want Solomon to get something too good as bait after all!

But when she tried it, her eyes grew wide with delight and she couldn’t help but devour the rest of the cake. You hadn’t even decorated it yet but it was already gone. She blushed and simply brushed it off.

“Can’t have that Solomon tasting this! It’s too good for him!” 

At least that was her excuse. But now she’s already contemplating buying a whole beehive just so she has more access to honey, and therefore you have more ability to make more for her! It was the perfect plan. Besides… maybe she can use the bees for one of her traps? 

Mephistopheles

It irritated him, all this buzz about a stupid cake. It was just a cake. He held little interest in trying some, even when you offered. He was nobility after all! His refined tastes would clearly be too much for such a common dessert. Mephi was fairly stubborn about this for a while. Then he heard that Diavolo had some with his tea and his tune suddenly changed. Now he was demanding for you to bake it. 

When you did, either because you wanted to or you just wanted him to shut up, he was actually surprised. The treat was perfect. The cake wasn’t too strong nor was it flavorless. Its texture and even the cooking time were exactly right. Were you secretly some high-class baker? Now he’s struggling with how to ask more without making it look like he actually wanted more. 

Raphael

The angel accepted your gift of honeycake well and ate some. He was delighted with the taste and told you so directly. You thought nothing more of it since he was so upfront and abrupt about it. Then the next day, he asked if you would make another one. You didn’t have any leftover honey and you told him so. 

A few days later, Raphael directly handed you a jar of honey. He kind of just stared at you like some strange cat, clearly expecting you to drop everything and just make the honeycake now. You told him you’d make it some other time and he accepted this. Though you did catch him staring at you now and then. You swore you put normal honey in those cakes, so why was he acting like this? Little did you know, he just appreciated people making food for him and didn’t really consider you could make other recipes too.

(For the folks who requested it :D)

@zarakem @commander-slavik @ikevampharem @cosmic-caffelatte

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 23

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena laid her suitcase down on the thoughtfully provided stand and took in the space that would be her home for the next couple of nights.

The room was decorated in neutral shades of white and grey, with small pops of colour provided by a couple of throw pillows and a large arrangement of flowers on the desk. The entirely of one wall was made up of a window overlooking the city skyline, with a sliding panel door out onto a balcony that had been set with a table and chairs, so that guests could dine under the stars if they so wished. The over all impression was clean and uncluttered, a blank canvas to allow her the space to think without all the noise. Impersonal yes, but that just made it feel like home. After all, Lena had grown up in rooms like this one, and being here brought her back to the part of herself she had been neglecting of late.

This was the first stop on the long awaited launch tour for L-Corp’s about-to-be-released combustion emissions converter, which meant that she would be away from National City for a full week of press conferences, demonstrations, stakeholder events and corporate networking opportunities in various major cities across the country. It was the first time since Kara’s kidnapping that she had been out of town for more than a night or two, and it felt strange to be stepping away now, for all Project Atlantis was still stalled and she wouldn’t have been doing all that much on it even if she had been there.

Well... except seeing Kara. But Lena was long past the point of being able to convince herself that that had anything to do with ‘maintaining positive relations for the project’. If she had been there to spend time with Kara, it would just have been because she wanted to. And she would have wanted to. It was months since they had gone so long without at least a quick morning coffee catch up on the way to work.

But even so, there was something nice about stepping away for a while. Both she and Kara had been working through so many big feelings, and while Lena felt lighter for it, more complete than she had felt in years (possibly ever), it was exhausting. Having seven whole days where her only job was to do her actual job, without all the complicated emotions and Atlantis work on the side would be almost like a vacation (and alright, it was a vacation filled to the brim with press scrutiny, speech prep and making nice with very important, very stuffy business men, but she would take what she could get).

Besides, she was excited about the emissions converter she had worked so hard to build, and wanted to give it the attention it deserved. She had actually come up with the idea almost by accident, while trying to find a way to scrub the lead she had released from the atmosphere. Instead her research had taken her in a different direction, and the end result was a deceptively small device that could be paired with just about any type of combustion engine to effectively capture and neutralise 99.99% of carbon dioxide emissions, converting them harmlessly back into their component elements. It used a technique of Lena’s own devising to split CO2 that neatly avoided the usual high cost and/or energy intensive processes required by more traditional methods, as well as successfully producing pure carbon and oxygen rather than carbon monoxide. What was more, her device could also deal effectively with carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, benzene and a whole host of other pollutants, and would beat the efficiency of existing catalytic converters by several orders of magnitude.

Of course it was at best a stop gap measure in the fight against climate change, but if it could be adopted widely enough it could certainly buy the planet some time while humanity weaned off their reliance on fossil fuels. After her failure with the Q-wave generator and subsequent inability to find a way to armour Kara against the trauma of her memory barrier, it was nice to take some time to acknowledge her successes and take another step towards making the Luthor name stand for something good.

From tomorrow morning almost every minute of her time would be filled, but for the next few hours her schedule was clear, and Lena was free to celebrate in whatever way she chose. She considered going down to the bar, or even out to see the city sights, as it was still early, but she felt a strange reluctance to do so.

Honestly, she was just so tired.

Bone achingly, soul crushingly, painfully tired.

A quiet night in then.

She made use of the clothes press to get any wrinkles out of her outfit for the next day and hung it up in the closet, then went to investigate the bathroom. It did not disappoint.

The tub was frankly ridiculous, even by her standards. It was almost big enough to swim laps in if you really put your mind to it, and covered in little circular openings that hinted at jacuzzi jets, as well as boasting a vast selection of tiny shampoos, shower gels, bubble baths and moisturisers lined up on the tiled ledge behind it. She skimmed the labels, then dumped a bottle of Sisley Soir de Lune into the tub and filled it with water just on the right side of painfully hot.

As soon as it was full she stripped off and sank gratefully into the fragrant heat and mounds of silky bubbles, almost groaning as her travel-weary muscles relaxed into it.

God, she needed to take more baths.

Most days Lena settled for a quick shower, having more pressing demands on her time than lying about in warm water, but when she did she remembered just how much she enjoyed it. She felt all her nerves about the coming week melting out of her and evaporating away with the steam as she drifted, eyes closed and hair floating on the surface. She stayed there, doing nothing but experiencing the sensation of being wrapped up in a warm embrace (even if not that of another person), until finally the water began to cool and the bubbles had mostly popped. She considered topping it up for a second round, but her fingers and toes were pruning, and now that she had worked out her tension, her book was calling out its siren song from her travel bag.

She finished her ablutions quickly and then got out, opting to pull on one of the two fluffy robes that had been provided rather than bothering to get properly dried and dressed, then helped herself to some of the complimentary mixed nuts and a not-so-complimentary miniature bottle of Talisker-25 from the mini-bar. The super-king bed was obscenely comfortable, and Lena settled down amidst a heap of pillows to the serious business of reading, luxuriating in the feeling of having absolutely nowhere she needed to be and nothing she was supposed to be doing.

She was only a couple of chapters in and fully absorbed in the story when her phone buzzed on the night stand with a text. She tutted, annoyed at the intrusion into the her brief respite from the world. It would be another nudge from her Head of PR, ‘politely’ suggesting that she really ought to make an appearance at the bar because XYZ important person was there and it would be an oh-so-perfect opportunity for a bit of impromptu schmoozing; or else a panicked message from the product demo team with a last minute crisis they needed her to solve that would inevitably keep her up until the small hours of the morning.

So much for her early night.

However, when she unlocked her phone she found it wasn’t a work emergency at all, and her irritation evaporated immediately to be replaced by a little leap of gladness in her chest as she saw who the text was from.

Kara: you’ve been gone less than 12 hours and I already need you back

The short message made butterflies stir in Lena’s belly as she tried to work out exactly what it meant. If she was in some kind of trouble and actually did need her back she would have called rather than texting, or at least been more specific, so… what was she saying? Lena had time to consider all the possible-unlikely-wishful-thinking scenarios in which Kara had suddenly realised her feelings and couldn’t bear even one more night of not kissing Lena, when a second text followed the first.

Kara: Alex and Kelly are destroying me at game night

Ah. Well that made more sense. And was a much better answer given that she had resolved not to act on anything for as long as Kara didn’t know the truth of their history. Lena tried to tell herself the heat in her cheeks was just in response to the hot bath she had taken as she tapped out a reply.

Lena: How is that possible? You’ve trounced them the last two weeks in a row.

Kara: That’s only because I had you there. You’re like my perfect game night partner

Kara: we are unstoppable!

Kara: not so much when it’s just me. And Alex is being SO smug about it

Kara: I think she’s about 5 seconds away from doing a victory dance

Lena smiled to herself, picturing the scene even as she pressed her whiskey glass to her face to cool her still-burning cheeks.

Lena: Well that would be only fair after YOUR victory dance last week

Lena: And the winner song that went with it

Kara: hey! You’re meant to be on my side here!

Lena: I’m always on your side

Lena: Anyway, who was it that came up with half the rhymes for that song? I didn’t say I didn’t love it.

Lena: And we will make Alex pay when I’m back next week

Kara: DEAL!

Kara: How’s your night going so far? Are you still working?

Lena: Nope – I got all my prep for tomorrow out the way on the flight, so I am being 100% indolent tonight. I just had a bubble bath and now I’m curled up on my bed reading a book.

Lena: I’m not QUITE in my pajamas at 8.30pm, but I’m not sure if a fluffy hotel robe is actually any better?

Lena: I’m basically an old lady

Kara: psh, no way. You have to make the most of a night in a five star hotel or what’s even the point of paying for one? And I bet the bed is SO comfy.

Lena: It is. It’s also HUGE

She snapped a quick photo of herself sitting in the middle of the bed, one arm extended to show how far she was from being able to touch the edge, and sent it to Kara.

Lena: If you were here we could both spend the night stretched out without ever managing to meet in the middle

As soon as she hit send, she regretted it. She hadn’t even meant anything by it, but on a reread, and sent immediately following a photo of herself on said bed, all the important bits fully covered but still knowing full well that she was naked under the robe, it seemed imbued with subtext that she couldn’t allow herself to mean. She felt the tips of her ears getting as warm as her face as she tried to think of a way to minimise it or take it back without making things worse.

Before she could however Kara’s reply pinged in.

Kara: wow, it’s like an aquarium!

That was… not the response she had expected. Lena stared at her phone, brows furrowed as she tried to decode the meaning of the statement.

She gave up.

Lena: Sorry you’ve lost me. An aquarium? As in… fish?

Kara: Yes, because of how many starfish it could hold! [laughing face]

Kara: you know… like when you spread out your arms and legs in bed

Kara: so you look like a starfish

Kara: and because it’s a big bed you could fit multiple starfish on it

Kara: like at an aquarium

Lena couldn’t help laughing. Not because the joke itself was funny (it was terrible), but because it was so Kara, and made all the more so by the elaborate explanation she had given for it. She smiled fondly at the text chain, as if it was Kara herself she was holding in the palm of her hand.

Lena: you’re right, it is just like an aquarium

And then because this was Kara, and she was allowed to be a dork to Kara without feeling silly, she added:

Lena: You could say I’ll be sleeping with the fishes tonight.

Kara sent back a string of laughing-crying emojis, then a fish emoji, a sleepy face and a heart.

Kara: I’d better go back and join the others before they think I got lost on the way to J’onn’s kitchen

Kara: I was only meant to be fetching another bottle of wine, but I wanted to take a moment to lick my wounds and get a morale boost from my favourite gaming partner after my latest defeat.

Kara: sweet dreams, and good luck tomorrow, you’ll be amazing

Kara: I’m so proud of you <3

Lena: Thank you <3

Lena: Sweet dreams to you too, and I hope you manage to obliterate Alex and Kelly in your next game xxx

Kara: xxxxx

[gingerjolover]

HOLIDAY REQUEST SEASON EEEE HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! okay so we know that julien definitely isn’t enthralled by the holidays because of the stereogum interview buuuut i cant shake the vision of julien and soft!gf facing off in a (ginger)bread (see what i did there!!!!!) house battle like idk i could just imagine soft!gf running errands at the store, coming across a gingerbread house kit and being like…..yes!

omggggg... also i see what u did there teehee

im gonna hc this bc this is sooo cute

i feel like soft!gf and julien compromise a lot in their relationship, like they show up for each other in many different ways even when the other isn't super stoked

jb shows up for you EVERY. CHRISTMAS. like yeah she doesn't love christmas but she looooves you so she indulges your every whim during the holidays

if we are in the same universe (soft!gf and julien have moved to LA and the house needed renovations/the end of touring/lots of events taking place and so on, so their holiday party/housewarming is taking place around the holidays) then you are zooooming around running errands trying to prep

thankfully munagenius is helping a lot and you thank your lucky stars for bff!kelli bc boy does she come thru for you

but it's exactly like that, soft!gf sees these gingerbread kits at like world market or something and there's a sale on traditional ones but then there's a midcentury modern kit and a camper one (these are real)

so you get a couple of the traditional ones (maybe for a mungenius hangout or group date night) and then get some of the cool ones

and you come home so excited and julien is matching your excitement because she doesn't like christmas but she likes how excited you get around the holidays and the constant twinkle in your eyes

julien greets you in the driveway, one of your dogs at her calf as she waits for you to park, her tattoos out and about in her linen button down

"didja buy the whole store?" julien asks teasingly, her hand pulling you into her by your beltloops, kissing your cheek and jaw in quick succession

"we have like 25 people coming over jay," you say unamused but unable to fight the smile at her affections, starting to grab bags

but boyfriend!julien is lowkey jacked and can get 95% of the bags in her arms as she quickly waddles into the house

julien is rifling through the bags when you get inside, pulling out the gingerbread houses before you can even butter her up

"i saw them at the store and i thought it would be so fun...look," you say grabbing the midcentury modern house and showing her the box

julien sees how excited you are and loves a good craft so she acts like its such a chore but once dinner has been eaten and the dishes have been washed, julien is putting plastic down on the dining room table and organizing all the supplies as if it was her idea

and lets be real, julien gets into it, okay?

soft!gf is a little genius so there's extra icing and candy and toppings for the houses on the table

and julien is constructing a masterpiece, murmuring to herself, "need a good foundation...good bones," or something like that

"i bet i could build us a real house baby..." "im sure you could jules."

and somewhere between letting the houses set and decorating, julien gets competitive

"i thought you wanted us to decorate it like it was our real house jay?"

"i do but im just going to do it better than you :)" and she smiles so sassily you're like fine, game on

and julien is soooo messy

she has icing all over her hands and on her cheek

and she's popping candies into her mouth left and right

"jay stop i needed those for my roof!" "you're roofing too slow babe, 's not my fault"

and there's Christmas music playing softly in the background, the dogs are sleeping underneath the table at y'alls feet and as it gets dark the Christmas lights husband!julien so diligently crafted around the house on a timer go off

and for the first time in a long time julien looks around and is so genuinely happy with the christmas-ness of her environment

and its silly like her and soft!gf are literally making replicas of their house out of inedible gingerbread and its so christmassy it should make her sick but she sees the streaks of icing on your cheekbone and how you've placed little m&ms in a repetitive pattern on the roof of your gingerbread house and she decides that the focused look on your face with your tongue peeking out, an almost ethereal glow behind your head from the Christmas lights is worth dealing with some of the lingering anger and resentment she has during the holidays if it means she can create new traditions with you and learn to love Christmas

<3 sorry its late guys

i feel like ive forgotten how to write and post and im in my imposter syndrome era ;P

[gladlypants]

Hey! I uploaded a ton of lots to the gallery today (id: gladlypants) Some were recent builds I was doing while I was waiting for GT, some I just furnished today, some I built last summer before HSY released and forgot about, and then vault Cleo’s grandparents’ house. I had a lot of fun practicing building over the last few weeks!  :) 

It’ll take me a bit to get all of these tray files up, will have to go back and take interior screenshots and all that. There are names of each and short descriptions under the cut, numbered like the screenshots, cuz I just felt like talking about em, and gallery images suck. I’ve playtested most of these at some point, except Charles E. Cheese’s, the shells, and the Batchelder house.

Lmk if you want any of these now for your new pack gameplay and I’ll shoot you a temporary dl.

1. Charles E. Cheese’s - Heavily branded for the feline version of Chuck, Charles! It’s a restaurant and I haven’t playtested it, sorryyyy, but I don’t foresee any issues. There’s a pizza vendor kiosk inside too if you want to change the lot type or have typical Dine Out problems. Intended as a kind of party space for kids. The upstairs feels a little chaotic to me but maybe not idk. ♥

2. Raymond’s Noodles - A little local noodle restaurant I built for a sim named Raymond I was playing in a recent rotation save. It’s small and cute. ♥

3. The Schneider House - a big ol’ traditional style Windenburg house. I was also playing a household on this lot, and I really loved it!

4. Batchelder Craftsman - I love the style of this house. Named for Batchelder tiles, which I am pretending this one has throughout! (reference)

5. Gray 2 Story Craftsman - The household I played the most in my rotation lived in this house and I love the layout, so it’s probably my favorite of the Craftsman shells I built, even if it is a little plain looking on the outside. It has an awesome, huge main bedroom suite! 

6. Green Family Craftsman - f*ck those rooves. This one has a a sunroom and a bedroom for grandparents/stay-overs. (reference)

7. Blue Craftsman - Built this one like a house my sister-in-law lived in here for a long time, it’s a common style and layout in older neighborhoods where I live.

8. Black Victorian Shell - It’s supposed to a small detached row house. I built it with the idea of using it for renting to roommates but you can use it however you like obviously.

9. Cleo’s Grandparents’ House - a desert mcm! Still has the camper in the yard that Cleo + Devon lived in before they got locked in the vault.

10. Single Mom House - I built this for one of my gallery households, who is a single mother and teenage daughter. It’s a little shabby, with some craftsman features and some Hispanic decor for them.

11. The LaFollette House - also built for one of my gallery families, a single military dad and his two daughters. I intended this one to be the same as the Single Mom house, but remodeled to be more modern and spacious.

12. The Gilbert House - for a gallery household, it’s a little retro inside!

13. Split Level Family Home - also for a gallery household, this one has very feminine style decor, except for one of the bedrooms for a teen, and a huge unfinished basement (just walls.) 

^^ Also this “Colorful Craftsman Shell” that I forgot about and don’t think I’ll get around to furnishing/finishing it anytime soon. It has a bonus attic room. You’ll need to move the back door, place it on a bigger lot, or lower the foundation because I didn’t leave space for steps there. 

And a big modern “apartment building” with one furnished unit and a gym and indoor pool downstairs, which is kind of unfinished but idk if I’ll get back to it.

Sorry for the wall of text, thank you if you read it all. ♥ 

[jarenka]

finally I finished this pic. Maybe you remember it from the post I MADE IN FUCKING JUNE... a very old post.

And here is the scene in the fic I invented the whole opera plot for:

Anakin closed his eyes, lost in memories.

He and Obi-Wan took a day off to go to the Opera House of Senra together. Even with Anakin's driving habits, it took them four hours to get there. 

The theater building, as was customary in Karati, was located in the center of the park, and Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to take a little walk before the performance. Last time Anakin went to the opera with Palpatine more than twenty years ago.

 "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise?"

 He thought these memories would haunt him now, but as soon as he and Obi-Wan entered the theater building, all bad thoughts flew out of his head. They climbed the wide stairs, found their seats in the parterre. Until the lights went out, Anakin observed the hall decorated with intricate wood carvings and beautiful lamps modeled after different local flowers. Anakin and Obi-Wan were wearing their regular civilian clothes but the majority of spectators chose traditional evening clothes of East Catari, embroidered silk tunics. 

“Do you remember the first time you tried to dissuade me from going to the opera?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan. 

He was still very young back then, not even a teenager. In the dining room Anakin overheard other Jedi discussing the latest premiere in Galaxies Opera House. At that time he did not even know what a "premiere" was, and he saw something remotely similar to the theater play only once, when his mother's friends arranged an amateur performance for the children on... some kind of holiday? Anakin no longer remembered. He liked it. Aunt Sey portrayed a farmer and sang funny songs. 

“You were eleven," Obi-Wan replied. “Not every adult can handle opera, and I thought you wouldn't understand.”

He really barely understood anything. It was a historical drama with political intrigue at the end of which the hero was killed by his old enemy, and even as an adult Anakin found this plot to be overcomplicated. But then he was struck by the singing, and the music, and the and the actors in stunning costumes, and the soft play of light and color on stage. He sat almost motionless until entr'acte, and moved only when the curtain fell. "Is it the end?" he asked Obi-Wan, disappointed. "No, there are three acts, but in the meantime we can rest a little." 

In the opera they were currently watching there were only two acts and it took two and a half hours total. When the lights went out, the orchestra played a short overture in the dim light of the bulbs in the orchestra pit, then the lights went out, the music subsided. The hall was plunged into complete silence and darkness. 

And then a voice rang out — an amazingly beautiful contralto. Bluish light flooded the stage, illuminating the scenery of the palace garden with palm trees and bushes strewn with flowers; the palace itself was visible in the distance, a squat building with round domes; two female figures with spears guarded the entrance to the terrace where Princess Akarias was waiting for her beloved. The voice of the actress, at first quiet, now filled the whole hall, she pressed her hands to her chest, tormented by terrible forebodings. Her lover, Saria, a general of the royal army, had to lead troops to war with a neighboring kingdom, and Akarias was afraid that she would die. 

Anakin froze in awe just like years ago in the Galaxies Opera House. He had no idea that theater still could invoke such strong feelings in him.

It became a little brighter on the stage: dawn was approaching, and Akarias was afraid that her beloved would not come to her. 

This production was much simpler than any that was done at the Coruscant. No holoprojectors or complicated machinery. To change the scenery, the lights were turned off between scenes, and at some point Anakin was even able to distinguish the silhouettes of workers in black clothes who were carrying the royal throne from the stage. 

The author of the opera took the plot from the ancient history of Palia, the home planet of the current inhabitants of Carati. After the long war, the king of Asteria and king of Kadasa decided to marry their children Princess Akarias and Prince Tarr in order to establish peace between the kingdoms, but instead of becoming a pledge of peace, on the wedding night, Princess Akarias killed her husband. In the opera, this murder, as expected, was committed out of passion: Akarias was in love with the general Saria, who died in the war at the hands of Prince Tarr, and she agreed to the marriage only to take her revenge.

The last scene took place in the Prince’s pavilion decorated for newly married couple. Sitting in front of the mirror without her upper dress, Akarias sang that she still loves Saria. She prayed to the gods for her and Saria to be together in the afterlife despite her marriage with Tarr. She begged the spirit of Saria for forgiveness, and assured her that she entered into this marriage with only one goal: to do to Tarr what he did to Saria. From the bodice of her dress she took out a knife that had been with her all the wedding ceremony. The metal shone brightly in the spotlight. 

Tarr was waiting for her sprawled in the bed with only his undershirt on. He dreamed that he would finally make love with his beautiful young wife. He propped himself up on his elbows when Akarias approached him, and froze when, instead of going to bed with him, she picked up the knife. Akarias killed him, and then, after offering another prayer to the gods, she killed herself.

Only when the lights came on did Anakin notice that he had grabbed Obi-Wan's arm. He hastily unclenched his fingers and looked at Obi-Wan's palm. He felt a bit dizzy with excitement. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. After all this beautiful music and beautiful voices his own voice sounded a bit weird to him. 

Obi-Wan replied with a puzzled look. 

"You adjusted the prostheses, didn't you?..” 

Anakin didn't adjust anything. He hadn't held hands with anyone for so long that it hadn't even occurred to him. 

“Well... I forgot.”  

Obi-Wan's gaze softened. 

“It's all right. Apparently, the factory settings suited you.” 

The actors came out to bow, and Obi-Wan and Anakin applauded them along with the rest of the audience.

[blossombriefs]

Legendary | Chapter Eight

Guiding us through the beautiful fields, The Grand Elder had two towering Namekian guards lead us to where we'd stay for the next while. Despite being quite close to The Grand Elder's home, we were secluded from the villages. With their direction, we were led to a white, domed, capsule-shaped house with a small garden outside. It was decorated with blue-leaved trees and various rock decorations dotted around in different shapes and sizes. The path in the garden led the way to an arched doorframe that welcomed the pair of us. I smiled to myself, the building looked quaint. After we took in the outside of the house, the guards gave us a password to use in Namekian that would allow the door to open for us and let us in and out. The guards bowed, their given instructions completed.

"The Grand Elder will expect you both at his home for a meal in a few hours. Please take this time to settle in and make yourselves at home."

We headed inside together, Broly gasping as he took in the inside. I was struck by its simple yet elegant decor and design. We decided to take a small tour of the house, noticing how strikingly spotless it was - almost as if it had never been lived in before. Walls were light grey, carpets were cream, and earthy-toned furnishings accented the room. The interior was bathed in a soft, ambient light that warmed the entire space. The bathroom was compact yet luxurious, the fixtures gleamed and the shelves were full of soft, fluffy towels. The spacious shower promised relaxation after our long journey and would prove to be perfect after any training we'd both endure on Namek. 

The bedroom was equally as gorgeous, proving to be a tranquil retreat. In the corner of the room was a large, comfortable bed adorned with fresh white linen and plump pillows. The small balcony had breathtaking views over the green and blue surroundings. Taking a step onto it, I inhaled the fresh air as I admired the gardens below.

Finally, the main living room had a cosy seating arrangement. Plush cushions arranged around a low coffee table for dining and a small couch was in the corner, decorated with lovely woven blankets featuring traditional Namekian designs. I settled back on one of the spaces on the couch, swinging my feet up before letting out a relaxed sigh. Having been hosted by The Grand Elder and his people, I felt so grateful. I felt an undeniable peace within these walls, despite the looming danger we anticipated.

Broly paced in the living space in front of me, his brows furrowed with his finger on his lip as he was clearly deep in thought, "Do you think the Grand Elder knows why we're here? Do you think he saw who's going to attack Namek?"

I shrugged, I had only considered the possibility briefly. "It's hard to say in all honesty. If he sent that distress signal, I'd assume he must have an idea of what's coming."

Broly nodded, his expression serious, "We need to be prepared for anything. I know you probably wouldn't mind but I'd love it if you could help train me. You're strong and smart. I'd love to learn how to be more of a soldier."

I observed his determination, I was admittedly impressed as his request elected his sincere desire to grow stronger and keep his strength more under control. His openness to learn from me felt like a testament to his trust. It was touching. With a simple nod, I acknowledged his request. I understood how important it is to hone your skills, especially when we are facing potential danger together.

"I'd be honoured to help you train, Broly," I replied, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "We'll start with the basics and work our way up. Your rage is a huge factor. It terrifies even me. You're so soft and gentle with me but when you're angry you go crazy. I can try and help with that. Remember, strength isn't just physical. It's about strategy. adaptability and resilience too. I'll focus on all aspects to ensure you're prepared."

Broly's expression softened into a grateful smile, a sense of relief clear in his eyes. "Thank you, Flora. I know I have lots to learn, but with your guidance, I believe I can become a better protector and a better warrior."

We started off discussing training schedules and techniques, and the closeness between us was more and more evident. Despite how uncertain the future head, we found solace in a shared determination. We have to protect Namek and it's people. Our discussions went on for hours. We planned to train in Namek's fields for an outdoor training space. They stretched for miles are weren't close to the villages so it was safe just in case Broly went a little out of control again.

As one of Namek's suns began to dip under the horizon, a warm orange glow was briefly cast over the landscape. We both knew it was time to head to The Grand Elder's home for dinner. Once we had showered we both got ready, changing into the garments the Namekians had provided us. Broly dressed in a black dress shirt and pants and I was given a white dress with a black corseted waist. I had never worn a dress before. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smiled gently. I felt pretty. I helped Broly button up his shirt, looking up at him as I made sure he looked presentable. It was hard for him to leave Ba's ear behind, it was going to be cleaned while we were out. I stepped outside, looking up to Broly to catch a relaxed level of anticipation behind his eyes. 

"I've never been to something like this before," he trailed as he shuffled his feet in the fluffy grass below.

"Neither have I," I replied, approaching him slowly.

Together, we walked along a short path and up the hill that led to The Grand Elder's home. The air was filled with a gentle hum from the Namekian wildlife and the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. The towering trees cast long shadows over the path as we quickly approached the tall standing stone building. We were greeted by the two warriors who had shown us to the home, ushering us inside. I looked around in amazement as the entrance was decorated with soft lighting and intricate carvings, Namek's rich history was all documented through these impressive designs immortalised in the stone. As we followed them both up some stairs we were led inside the grand dining room. Broly stayed close by my side as we were greeted by the head of the long, polished, wooden dining table that was set before us, The Grand Elder. The table was decorated beautifully with small statues and candles, each seat had it's own fine china and cutlery arrangement. As always, I felt calm,

"Welcome, my wonderful guests," The Grand Elder said, his deep voice echoing in the sheer size of the dining room. "Please, take your seats at each side of me. Dinner will be served shortly."

As we settled into our chairs, the table would gradually fill up with more guests from the Namekian council who were invited along with us. The chatter was loud as gradually the table was laid out with plenty of freshly cooked dishes. Plates were piled high with native fruits and vegetables, steaming bowls of fragrant soups and platters of seasoned dishes added more colour to the room. Wine sourced from local vineyards was poured into everyone's glasses, everyone clinking glasses as the festivities continued. Broly took a sip, pursing his lips and flaring his nostrils upon his first taste. 

Throughout the meal I found that the conversation between The Grand Elder and I. Broly listened along, nodding as he filled his mouth with food and continued sipping from his glass. The Grand Elder was incredibly interested in the stories of how Broly and I crossed paths, our fight with Frieza's men and our brief journey through the stars before receiving his signal. When given the chance, Broly touched on his story too. He shared about his banishment to Vampa with his father, and the years he spent in solitude clearly reflected on him.

"May I ask my young boy, do you know what happened to your father?" The Grand Elder questioned. Sighing, Broly clenched his fork tightly as he looked down at his plate.

"I don't know," he responded. "One minute he was there, the next he wasn't."

The Grand Elder nodded, resting a hand on Broly's firm shoulder. I looked on, contemplating the mystery. I hoped it was something we would find out the answer to along our journey, for his sake more than anyone else's. He cleared his throat before issuing a response, "Just know your father would be proud of the strong man you are today."

He looked to me next, the discussion moving on. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder too. "My army is built of the finest kinds of warriors. Some of them exhibit unfathomable strength to protect our people."

His head turned to Broly, "But where would we be if we didn't also have guardians to overlook the planet's wellbeing?"

"My Namekian army is formed of warriors and guardians. The two roles cannot work in harmony without trust and understanding. I don't think I need to educate you both on that."

I looked across the table to see Broly smiling back over to me, I couldn't help but return it. I felt like an idiot for how wide my lips held my grin. His cheeks were warmed with a slight blush as he took another swig from his wine glass. The Grand Elder leaned towards me next, his lips near enough to touch my ear as he made a simple request.

"When the meal is over, would you mind staying behind? We have much to discuss."

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