#we got cork everywhere

[memray]

my best friend opening a wine bottle with a knife but it’s actually futaba

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

341 days of foreplay

A/N: this used to be my most popular fic on here before I accidentally deleted everything. originally posted back in march/april, was some of the first smut I ever wrote, so keep that in mind, there's probably so many mistakes in this, I haven't edited it. also I changed the title, it used to be called i should've worshipped you sooner (gif in the moodboard is by my love @fightingdragonswithwho )

summary: Spencer overhears his roommate, Y/n, confess her true feelings for him.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, smut, roommates, drinking, chess, love confessions, kissing, orgasm denial, alcohol consumption, oral (male and female receiving), impact play, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, creampie, cumplay, dirty talk, praise, degradation, choking, spit kink, overstimulation, dom Spencer vibes 

word count: 3911

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You had been Spencer’s roommate for almost a year now, and for all of that time, you’d been hopelessly in love with him.

You often think that if his work didn’t take him out of state so often, you’d probably come clean about your feelings much sooner.

It was Friday night, and Spencer still hadn’t come home yet, from California you think you remember him texting you a few days ago? So here you were, in the kitchen, trying to open a bottle of wine. 

“You really shouldn’t mix wine and beer”, your friend’s voice boomed from your phone.

“Well, what do you want me to do, Eleanor? Just stop drinking after 2 beers?” you mocked, struggling with the cork. “This is not a 2 beers kind of day, so yeah, I’m switching to wine since it’s the only option that I have here. It’s that or stop, which is just, no.”

Even through the screen, Eleanor gave you her best disappointed parent expression and it stung. How had she perfected that? Shaking her head, she sighed, “you really need to move out.”

Popping the wine bottle open, you pointed the corkscrew at her, “don’t,” you warned, “I don’t wanna hear about it!”

“You can’t keep living with someone that you are head over heals for! Either tell him or move out and move on.”

“Or I could just keep drinking alone on a Friday night, and then go snooping through his things.” You raised the bottle up to cheers the screen, then took a large swig of it.

“What, your gonna become an alcoholic?”

“Hey, don’t judge my coping mechanisms little miss ‘I spent 3 months' wages in 1 minute after getting dumped by Sandra’. And who was so kind as to support you and lend you some money in order to get by, oh yeah that’s right, me, your oldest friend.”

She took a deep sigh, “fine. What are we drinking?”, then you saw her pick up her phone and move to her kitchen. 

“Yes!” you squealed, “I promise, I won’t even mention him the entire evening.”

“It's just like, when he talks with his hands, which is always, which is also always because he always rambles, they are just so, urgghhh” you slurred, and bent over the kitchen counter in order to get closer to the screen, because your vision wasn’t the best at the moment. “pretty. But also like, I want to feel them everywhere on, and inside me. And the veins, oh fuck…”

Eleanor was totally spacing out on her end of the line, so you just continued. “like the other day, he got home and was soooo mad, like only once in a blue moon mad. And I know that it’s kinda wrong of me to just be lusting after him in such a tough moment for him, but damn!”, taking another gulp of your now much lighter bottle. “He just looked, god, so good.” You almost moaned. “His delicious forehead vein was popping out, fuck I just wanna lick it. Like, he gets so petty, but in the hottest way! Fucking, just bend me over right then and there, and go at it for hours!” you carelessly set the bottle down on the counter, “I’d let him do anything he’d want! and I’m talking like some Erika Lust shit. Choke me, slap me, say open up and I’ll happily let him spit in my mouth”

“God, you need to get laid,” Eleanor complained. 

“I know, but I only want him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to even think about anyone else in that way,” you admitted. 

“Aw, babes, you will”, she said with a sad smile, then looked up to the side “oh, it’s 1:05, I’m sorry, I really need to go to bed, but we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sleep well” you sighed.

“And hey, don’t go fall asleep in his bed!” she quickly added before ending the call.

“That was one time!” you said to now no one.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol in your system, you leaned your head against the cool countertop. 

Hearing the sink turn on behind you, you whipped around, startled to find the aforementioned Spencer standing there, filling the kettle with water. 

“Jesus Christ! Spencer, what are you doing here?” you screeched. 

Breathing out a small chuckle, “as far as I’m aware, Y/n, I live here.”

“Yeah, I know that, I mean what are you doing home?”

Setting down the now filled kettle in its holder to boil, he turned to you, “the case ended, ergo I’m home now. That’s how it works, Y/n.” 

He kept on saying your name, making you shutter at the way it sounded. “You just usually give a heads-up first”.

He sighed, clearly not in the mood for this conversation, “yeah, well I didn’t.” 

Maybe it had been a tough case? God, if he kept up this mood for any longer, your ovaries were going to explode. 

Suddenly remembering the topic of the convocation you just had with Eleanor, your eyes widened, “ho-how long have you been home?”

“Why?” he said with a tiny smirk.

“Oh, no, I just, I didn’t hear the door or anything” you trailed off.

“Well, you were pretty loud, so it makes sense.”

“I-“ fuck, your heartbeat was raising, “um, did you hear?”

Narrowing his eyes, looking you up and down, taking in your nervousness, “would you really let me do anything I’d want?” 

You let out a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/n,” he moved closer to you, ”there are so many things I wanna do to you.”

Not truly believing his words, you asked, “you do?”

Choosing not to answer with words, he grabbed your face and kissed you fiercely, letting his tongue dance across yours. Humming into it, the combo of the feeling of the kiss mixed with the alcohol made the world spin, so you clutched onto his forearms for support. 

Abruptly pulling away, he studied your eyes, “you’re drunk.”

“Guilty as charged!” you beamed, moving your hands down his body.

Catching them before they could touch what they desired, “no.”

“What? If you don’t want to, then why did you just kiss me?” the words rushed out of you.

Chuckling lightly, he held your hands in his, “trust me, I do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I really like you. I’ve known it for a while.”

“You do?” you smiled as you moved to kiss him again, but he turned his head before your lips could meet.

“But your drunk.”

“So what?”

“Y/n, I can’t with good conscience just bend you over and fuck you in the kitchen when you are drunk.”

Letting go of him, you leaned back against the cold slab and spread your legs a bit, “you could though, I want you to”, grabbing ahold of his hand, you moved it between your legs, “I’m yours if you want me.”

Growling, he closed his eyes. 

“Please” you whispered, grinding into his hand, trying to find some form of relief. 

Snapping his eyes open, his hand started to move, just a bit, moving up and down over your covered pussy. “Is this what you want?”

Shuttering, you replied, “yes.”

With a smirk, his hand moved inside of your pants, cursing under his breath when he felt just how wet you were, “is this all for me?”

Lips now slightly parted, you nodded hard.

Using two fingers, he pressed hard down on your clit, drawing tight circles. Bending down to kiss along your jaw and down your neck he asked amidst the kisses, “do you really want me to choke you,-“ kiss, “slap you-“ kiss, “and spit in your pretty little mouth?”

All you could do was hum in affirmation. 

“I had no idea that you were such a dirty little whore.”

“I just- really really like you,” you choked out, hips moving of their own accord, trying to aid in the goal.

Coming up to look at your face, “good, because I really really like you too”.

A combination of his sweet words, how good he was a finding the exact right place and pressure on you, as well as just the anticipation of it all making everything heightened and so much more intense, you felt yourself getting dangerously close to cuming.

“Oh fuck, Spencer, I’m-” you moaned, clutching onto his shirt.

But then, he removed his hand.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ you breathed, trying to catch it and guide it back to your center, but he wouldn’t let you. “I was so close.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because like I said, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk.” His sentence was emphasized by the click of the kettle being done boiling.

“But-“ you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“I want the first time you cum with me to be on my cock. I wanna feel it.” He explained, then turned to grab two mugs out of a cupboard.

Standing there, slightly stunned, you tried to decipher what the next move could be. The alcohol made it virtually impossible to think of anything other than getting railed by him, so you just sat up on the counter, catching your breath and watching him brew the coffee.

After a minute, you asked quietly, “so, we just go to sleep now?”

Filling the last mug, “no”, he turned and lifted you off from where you were sitting and back to a standing position, “we are going to wait.”

“Wait?” you questioned.

Grabbing one of the mugs, he handed it to you and confirmed, “yeah. How many drinks did you have?”

Scrunching your face up, you tried to remember, “um, 3, no 4, maybe?”

Licking his lips he said, “okay. Come with me.”

Hopping after his long strides, he stopped at his chess table and sat down, motioning with his hand for you to follow suit.

“We are going to sit here until you sober up.”

“Playing chess? Of course, that would be your definition of foreplay.” You teased, but ungracefully sat down as well.

Moving your rook forward four spaces, you asked, “is this even entertaining for you? You keep on beating me in like 5 moves.” 

One step ahead of you, he quickly moved his bishop and snatched up your last surviving knight. Then turning his big brown eyes to look at you, “oh trust me, this is very entertaining for me. Might be some of the best games I’ve ever played.”

Cocking your head to the side you almost laughed, “um, no. I know I’m not a very good chess player, I know the rules and there forth can somewhat follow along, but I am nowhere near skilled enough to be an entertaining chess partner to you, dr. Reid.”

“Who said that your chess skills had anything to do with it?”

Giggling lightly, you moved a pawn and muttered, “oh.”

It was his turn again, but this time he didn’t move a piece, but simply asked you, “are you still drunk?”

Your body tensed at what the question really meant. 

“I don’t think so,” you said honestly, then deciding to joke a bit, “why, do you want me to walk in a straight line? Touch my finger to my nose?” already doing the last movement in front of him.

Smiling, he asked, “do you still want to?”

Stopping your movements, you replied completely serious, “I don’t know how that’s even a question.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for the right words.

“Yes Spencer, I still want to.” Rubbing your thighs together at the building sensation that never quite disappeared from earlier. 

His eyes were glued on you as you lowered your body to the floor, kneeling in front of him, slowly running your hands up his legs.

Reaching a hand down to your cheek, he slipped his thump inside your mouth, completely entranced, it came out as almost a whisper “show me.”

The way he looked down at you made your pussy throb. Hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around his finger, you watched him work at his belt.

“Be a good girl and show me.” Taking his finger back with a pop, then used both of his hands to free his cock.

The sight made you smile. Of course, even his dick was pretty.

“Open your mouth, Y/n,” and without another thought, you opened up and stuck your tongue out. Your eyes were big and doe-like, in awe of how he looked, sitting in front of you, working himself a couple of times.

Tapping the weight against your wet tongue, he groaned, “lick it”, and so you did, slowly a few times, just on the tip, then moving your head slightly to the side so you could trace his veins all the way down to the bottom, all the while keeping your eyes locked on his.

Moving your hand up to grasp the base, stroking it lightly as you came back to the tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before pushing it past your lips. Slowly taking him further and further in, his hands were tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots whenever you would move your tongue just right. 

Letting him move your head for you, picking the pace, how far down you would go down and how long he would hold you there, enjoying the sound of you gagging. 

After a bit, moaning, he pulled you off his now glistening cock, “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up”.

Proud of yourself, you beamed up at him, whipping your mouth and chin with the back of your hand.

Pulling you up to him, he kissed you. Moaning into it, his hands went straight to your tits, palming them softly and then whispered against your lips, “take it off, slowly”.

Pushing yourself off him, you backed up a few steps, giving him a good view. Gradually, layer by layer you striped for him, turning when you got to your pants, in order to give him the best angle. Unconsciously, he mirrored your actions, taking his own off.

When you were both completely naked, his dark eyes drank you in, “get on the couch, ass up, now.”

Your body did as he wished by its own accord. Leaning over the back of his brown leather couch, you waited eagerly for him to get closer to you, and when he did, you grinded into the feeling of his body pressed up against yours. 

Running his fingers lightly through your folds, “mhm, you’re fucking soaked.”

“Please don’t tease me anymore,” you wiggled against him, “I want you inside of me, now.”

“Oh really?” he cooed, then landed a small slap on your pussy, surprising and hard enough to make you jump a bit, “you want it that bad? Do you just wanna be my pretty little whore?”

“Please, ruin me” you whined, as you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

“Wait,” he said, panic suddenly filling his voice, “I don’t have a condom.”

As he began to pull away, you wouldn’t let him, “I don’t care, please just give it to me, please Spencer.”

“You serious?”

“I’m clean, please do it. I’ll just get plan b tomorrow”, you begged.

And without any more warning, he slammed the entirety of his dick inside of you, making you lose your breath and almost turn into putty in his arms.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your ear, then distanced himself from you by pushing you further into the couch and straightening up himself. Gripping onto your hips, he didn’t give you a moment to get use to the feeling of how much he stretched you out, but opting for a brutal pace. The snapping of his hips made your body jump in the best way. 

As he slapped your ass, you only got that much closer to cuming. His arms went around your waist and pulled you up against him. One firmly staying there, holding you close to his warm body, the other snaked its way up your body, staying at your boobs just long enough to pinch one nipple, then finding a home softly wrapped around your neck.

His face was right beside yours, occasionally placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, neck or shoulder. Feeling you clench around him, he asked amidst his grunts and moans, “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, Y/n?”

When you didn’t reply, too wrapped up in the feeling of it all, he taped your cheek lightly, “huh? Are you gonna cum on my dick?” 

Seeing stars now, you had no way of getting out actual words, and when his hand came down on your cheek again, this time a little harder, you gathered just enough strength to nod lightly.

“atta girl, let me feel you,” he cooed in your ear and returned his hand to his resting place around your neck. Your eyes struggled to stay open as the orgasm rocked through you. 

Legs shaking and trying to catch your breath, his trusts slowed down. Your head lolled back against his shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. “fuck, just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful.”

Smiling you reached your hand up to the side of his face, “let’s move this to your bed, I think I need to lay down”, you breathed out.

“Done already?” he asked in a joking tone.

Laughing lightly, you winched at the feeling it gave, making your sensitive walls clench around him, “no, I just don’t wanna fall.”

And with another peck on your cheek, he pulled out of you, but still held you close as you moved the short distance to his bed.

When you hit the mattress, you pulled him with you, letting him fall on top of you. Gasping as he slipped inside of you again, the feeling already starting to feel like home. 

“Oh, you’re taking my cock so well” he moaned, finding a good rhythm, picking the one that made your boobs jiggle the most. “God, I love your tits,” he thought out loud, playing with them, making you giggle a bit at the compliment. 

Craving the same sensation from before, you requested, “choke me.” He didn’t hesitate, wrapping his long fingers around your throat again, squeezing lightly at the points where your rapid heartbeat was easiest to feel. 

Your eyes were locked on each other’s, giving you a great chance to study just how blown his pupils were. Moving his big hand up, so that his thumb could rest on your bottom lip, “open” he breathed out. When you did as you were told, sticking your tongue out just enough for it to brush against his finger, his lips curled up into a proud smirk. The sensation of his spit landing on your tongue first surprised you, then did something you were not expecting it to do. You came again. Right then and there, the intimacy of the act being enough for you.

His smile only grew at the obvious signs of the power he had over you.

Then you blinked and he wasn’t above you anymore. But what he did next was enough for you to know exactly where he was. Your head shot down with a wince, to see him place sloppy kisses on your very sensitive clit. Reaching a hand down, you pulled him away, the sensation being too much. 

Head between your legs, he looked up at you, eyes sparkling, kissing your inner thigh, and muttering, “sorry, I just had to kiss you there”.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you stroked your thump up and down, then up to trace the angry vein on the side of his forehead, “just give me a second”.

Smiling, he leaned his head against your soft thigh, then turned his face to place a peck on the palm of your hand.

“mhm, okay”, you hummed after a few minutes. Spencer then sat up, pulling your tired body with him. You slumped down in his lap, like a koala, hugging your arms around him, nuzzling as close as you could. 

“You ready, Y/n?”

You hummed in reply, reaching one of your hands down to slip his dick inside of you again.

This time, you both just found a lazy and intimate rocking motion, not needing it to be hard and fast, but slow in order to make it last as long as possible. 

“fuck, I’m so close” he practically whined, “where so you want it?”

Through a string of breathy moans, you uttered one syllable, “-in- “, pulling back just enough for him to see the seriousness on your face.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he smirked, “We already live together, you want us to start a family?” his teasing only made your walls tighten their grip around him.

His movements became more ragged and desperate, “you’re just a little cumslut, aren’t you? You want me to fill you up?” whimpering in response, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and held on tight as he pushed you over another euphoric high. 

Grunting in your ear at the feeling of you milking him, you heard, “take it, all of it”, as he throbbed deep inside of you, filling you with his cum.

Staying like that, all tangled up and breathing heavy, for who knows how long. At some point, clutching onto you, he lowered you both down to lie on the soft mattress. 

Expecting him to stay and cuddle you, he instead sat back up and leaned back to admire the mess he had made. Stroking your thigh, he breathed out, “be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

Slowly, you pushed your knees up and spread your legs apart, hearing him curse underneath his breath. Your body jumped when you felt his fingers trace your slit, gathering up the cum that had begun to drip out of you. Crying out suddenly as he plunged in two of his fingers, hips buckling, the sensation being too much for your overstimulated cunt.

“Uh, don’t get so whiny on me right now,” he cooed, looking down at you with dark eyes. He hooked his fingers and moved them furiously, “you said you wanted to cum? Now take it!”

Even when your hips tried to move away, his fingers followed. Soon the feeling of everything being too much got another thing added onto it. How could you possibly cum again? But somehow, you did just that. Spencer always had a way of making impossible things be possible.

Your whole body was shaking and quivering as Spencer laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Holy shit,” you said among your shaky breaths.

“Well, we did have 341 days of foreplay”, he joked.

“Yeah”, you laughed, brushing your hand up and down his arm. “Hey, Spence?”

“Mhm?” he hummed into your hair.

Taking a deep breath, gathering the courage, you confessed quietly, “I love you.”

His hand came to lift your face up to meet his, touching his forehead against yours, “Y/n, I love you too, so much.”

Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed his forehead, then curled back down under his chin and fell asleep in that warm cocoon of love that was your roommate Spencer Reid.

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 24 - Behind the Scenes

Summary: A decade into their careers, Corroded Coffin answers the ever-present question: what makes good music?

Word Count: 983

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Older!Corroded Coffin, Set sometime in the 2000s, 1st Person POV, News Article, Reference to Day 23 Up and Coming, friendship

Note: Thank you to the wonderful @br0ck-eddie for the beta read

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Cracking Open the Lid - Behind the Scenes with Corroded Coffin By Alex McCall

What makes great music?

I'm talking really great music.

The kind that inspires sold out shows and screaming audiences and a chart-topping album that's gonna win an award sooner rather than later.

Is it good lyrics? Something you can dance to? Die-hard fans? Maybe it's a little bit of everything, especially after a decade of slogging through bars and opening acts for bands that aren't as good and day jobs because gigs don't pay enough for the gas to get you to the next show?

Well, that's what Indiana-native Corroded Coffin attributes to their success.

"We got lucky," guitarist Eddie Munson insists as I join them backstage before their sold out Chicago show. "A thousand bands work hard and deserve to be here, work just as hard as we did but it truly is luck."

"We rolled a Nat 20," drummer Gareth Emerson adds, earning a laugh from the whole band. An inside joke for sure, but their history with Dungeons and Dragons isn't much of a secret if you've listened to their music at all in the past.

It's not every day that you get to cover a story about a band you "discovered" a decade ago, but here I am nonetheless. I passed countless fans lined up outside of the arena and chatted with a few of them. Stories range from hearing them open for Metallica a few years ago to someone who'd never heard of the band until they won tickets at work and became fast fans.

One of them asks when I first heard of Corroded Coffin, and I tell them, almost a little smugly, that I saw them playing live on St. Patty's Day at Cork and Kerry back in '90.

I tell the boys about it too--I'm allowed to call them the boys now--and they immediately dive into reminiscing.

"Was that the time," frontman Jeff Franklin can't stop laughing, "that Davey drank so much green beer he projectile vomited over the crowd at the end?"

"No!" Bassist Dave Nelson protects his honor. "That was the time someone threw a bra at you and you decided to wear it as a hat."

It was neither of those times.

No, this was the time Eddie decided to try crowdsurfing and landed flat on his face.

"Seriously you were there for that and you decided to come see us play again?" Eddie goans.

But it was that gumption that put them on my radar and made me want to see what a bunch of idiot kids from Indiana--kids like me, a transplant from Fort Wayne--had to bring to the table.

And it's been a rollercoaster ever since.

Since my first article about these guys, they've been everywhere man. Literally. Across the US, on tour after tour after tour. They recorded an original song for a major motion picture. They had their shot acting as extras in a movie too.

"That, uh," Dave shakes his head vigorously, "we don't talk about that, actually."

"First and last acting credit," Gareth agrees.

"Didn't you play Romeo back in high school though?" Jeff teases him.

It's this camaraderie that punctuates my time with them. I'm immediately laughing at all of their jokes, I'm folded into the intimacy of their group. And it isn't exclusive to my interview; this is the energy that they bring to the stage every night. It's what they've always done, ever since that first performance I witnessed and, I'm sure, every performance since.

And yeah I could talk about how they give me a tour of the green room and all of their snacks and the required video game console because Gare is almost done beating Legend of Zelda 2. Or their tour bus and Eddie's stuffed animal collection.

But it's their friendship that is the shining beacon of the band.

Always has been.

I ask if they fight much.

"Always" they say in tandem.

"Bickering like an old married couple," Eddie elaborates. "But I guess we are sort of married to one another. Lifelong commitments and all that."

I try to ask if any of them are married, but the band is notoriously private. (They told me, because I'm one of the guys now, I'm just not allowed to write about it.)

But private lives aside does that mean the band breaking up is completely off the table?

"I'm sure we'll retire at some point," Jeff offers. "Ed's knees are giving out."

"He's the old man of the group," Gareth snickers.

Something is thrown across the greenroom and hits the drummer in the head. A pillow. It starts some kind of pillow fight slash food fight between them all, and I even get in on some of the action with a well-aimed barrage of M&Ms of my own.

In hindsight I feel bad for the people who have to clean that up. I would offer some sort of compensation but the band famously pays their venue teams very well.

Someone calls a truce and we wrap up the interview.

I get to have my fanatical moment, showing off some of the articles and ticket stubs I've brought along with, as well as an old autographed polaroid that I've had at my desk for years.

I'm only a few years older than they are, and the way I've followed their career has been more like an older cousin hoping they make it big than anything. I've listened to their good songs and their bad, but I've never given up on them. None of their fans really have.

"We appreciate it man," Jeff nods and all of the guys have tears in their eyes as they agree. "It's all for you guys. And for each other. But for the fans? Always."

So what makes great music? I ask them.

And once again in tandem, I get my answer. But I guess I didn't need to ask them to know.

"Friendship."

[mx-jinxous]

Part 4

The tension was thick enough to attract the attention of the occupants of the garden. Steve violently gripped the blindfold in his hand as his glare set upon the king. He expected the coy man to snap a comment, take a chance to belittle him with a snide comment. Instead, the king took him by surprise by taking a step aside, holding a hand out. He directed the younger man back towards the way he had come from, smiling at him. 

“If you are done playing amongst the children, we are due for a meeting.” Steve scoffed, handing the blindfold to Joyce, who stood to follow, only for Kas to hold a hand up to her. “This is only for a party of two at the moment.” 

“And by that, you mean you, me, and Sir Tincan.”

“I mean what I say. Just you and I.” Gareth sputtered, the king sending a side glance that seemed to be enough to silence the guard. “Come, let us take a stroll.” 

Steve was wary, but led the way, hearing the king’s steps follow behind him, expecting some type of ambush once they passed the corner. However, the only thing that came from the Kas was a yawn followed by a chuckle. “What energy you must have to keep up with the little rascals? You must come from a full family.” 

“Stop.” Steve growled, whipping around to glare at the king. He stopped only inches from his face, the younger’s hot breath brushing against his lips. “Stop this niceness charade. You ask your questions, I’ll ask mine. Just enough of this back-and-forth bullshit.”

A moment of silence passed with their eyes locked, trying to gauge one another before Kas brought a hand up to the younger’s chest before pressing him back. “You have one of the most confusing vocabularies I have heard. I am trying to be kind, allow you freedom to speak your mind, and find comfort in the unfortunate hand you have been dealt.”

“Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome in the making to me.” Kas raised a brow, but shook off the uncertainty.

“None of what I said is untrue. As a show of good faith, I will answer questions you have honestly.” Steve hummed, making a show of thinking over his options, though he knew there was no real debate.

“Fine. Lead the way and we’ll chat.” With a smirk, Kas took the lead, taking him to a lounge. The younger man nearly walked into the king when he halted in front of the door, dramatically throwing open the double doors. The room was plain, just a few sofas, a table between them. Kas entered first, going over to an ice bucket and pulled a bottle of wine before flopping gracelessly on a settee, all before Steve joined him. Kas held his hand out to the adjoining sofa, crossing his arms as he stared at the man expectantly. He popped the cork without struggling and took a swig, offering it to the scowling younger man. He withdrew the offered bottle before resting back, locking eyes once more, then he took another drink. 

“So, how do you want to do this? A round of 20 questions before we begin a yelling match.”

“I want to be civil, so I ask you not to taunt my generosity and to be forthcoming. Please, ask any question.” Resting back against the settee, Kas got comfortable, ready for any ounce of time.

Steve was silent for a moment to ponder over the many questions that circulated through his mind and the ever-growing list. Yet, one was more prominent than the others, glimmering on his wrist between the both of them. “What is the big deal about this bracelet? It’s strange that you all are so focused on a trinket when this place is loaded with jewelry, so what is so important about this?”

That seemed to be the right question to lead with, giving the king gagged on his wine, face going as red as the liquor. He took a moment to right himself, eyes fluttering between his clothing and the room, everywhere other than Steve. Clearing his throat, he looked up at his guest. “Before I share my reasoning, I need the truth about how you obtained it.”

“I told you the truth. You gave it to me-.” The king opened his mouth, only to be silenced when a glare locked on him. “But after my conversation with Brenner, I think I’ve summed up that what gave me this wasn’t really you. It was a stone a-a-a gargoyle?”

“Do you mean a golem?”

“Yes! A stone person bewitched with rules to follow.”

“That would be a golem, also it is enchanted. Witch is a degrading term most foul. Do be better with words in my kingdom.” The last part came out as a growl. A shiver ran down Steve’s spine, unclear whether it was a fearful reaction or something else.

“Geez, my bad. It’s not like anyone told me and I’m kind of new to this. Can we get back on topic?” With a nod from Kas, Steve continued. “Full transparency, I’m not from here, time wise. One minute I’m at work getting robbed, the next I’m shoved in a coffin by golem you, and I’m here.”

“And the bracelet?” 

“He slapped it on my wrist, I don’t know why or how I got here, but I’m here and probably fired from my job.” He grumbled the last part, but it went over the king’s head as he seemed deep in thought. 

“Hm, it sounds as if some powerful magic is at play. A statue of a king is only constructed to watch over their bodies, which means that I no longer exist in your time. It would make sense to have a statue then and whom ever enchanted it would have had to leave a magical trace. It is possibly the same person that enchanted the bracelet. I do not understand who would task the golem to give you the bracelet.” Kas explained, eyes burrowing into Steve’s.

“As part of our culture, each member of the royal family has expectations, one of which is marriage. As a vow of loyalty and sign of love, a bracelet it cast as an engagement announcement. My bracelet went missing from my room, so I assumed when you appeared with it that you were the culprit. My uncle would not be pleased to find I have misplaced it in his absence.”

“So I’m wearing your wedding present?” The young boy asked, staring down at the bejeweled bracelet.

“That is correct. It is a sign of unity and as we speak, my uncle is out making treaties and using my hand as a bargaining piece.” Kas huffed, the settee taking his full weight as he slumped back.

“That sucks.” He mumbled to the king, his mind reflecting on the similar situation that got him into his current circumstance.

“It is to be expected if I am to take over the throne one day. I gave my permission when he asked because I understand what is expected of me.” He hummed, eyes drifting towards the bracelet. For how demanding he had been to retrieve it, his eyes betrayed the surrender and remorse from Steve.

The young man felt the rough tension ease for the first time between them as the mood seemed to damper on the topic. “I guess that explains the looks and the offers of free stuff?”

“Wait. What do you mean? How many people saw you wearing my bracelet?” Kas seemed spooked, in near panic.

“I went through a market, talked to several jewelers, anyone that claimed they could break the spell. No luck, but got a lot of congratulations and offers.”

“Oh lords. This is pure embarrassment!” Kas groaned, throwing his head back as he raked his hands over his face. “My uncle will be bringing it up till day one of us parishes.”

“Geez, don’t be so melodramatic. We’ll just tell people it was an accident and we’re not engaged.”

“And risk scandalizing the crown! I think not! My uncle would have my head!” Steve was unease with how unsettled the king had been. “No, you will have to cover it in public. I cannot risk news of my engagement reaching my uncle.”

“So I’m just supposed to hide this bulky ass thing? How the hell do you expect I do that?”

“We will supply armor gauntlets that shall cover it.”

“Oh yay, more shackles.” Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his body onto the sofa. He was sure he resembled a pouting child with his crossed arm, but he felt he’s justified with how he’d been thrown into this ridiculous mess.

“It is for your safety as much as my family’s image. Being seen as my betrothed has put a mark on your back. No king has reigned in everyone’s favor. I would suggest not venturing out of the castle walls much. However, if you do, take a guard with you.” Steve wanted to argue, to throw a fit, but he knew the king was being honest. 

Regardless of his predicament, Steve understood and agreed with the king’s reasoning. With a sigh, he sat straight once more before locking eyes with the older man.

“Fine, but I have my own terms to these conditions.”

“As you should. Share them with me.”

“Firstly, I will not be staying here under constant monitoring. Mrs. Joyce has invited me to stay with her and I’m going to take her up on it. Secondly, I won’t just be sitting around here every day.”

“If you want a job, I can give you one. All you have to do is say yes. The guard is always looking for help.”

“No. I don’t want to work like that. Maybe I can help Joyce.”

“She has several assistants. However, the children run amok after classes and they are full of unbalanced magic and the energy to disperse it. They do require a caretaker.” Kas offered, picking the wine back up to take another swig.

“So… babysitting?”

“Oh lords no!” The king gasped, horror expressed on his face. “They may cross lines and be pains in the ass, but please do not sit on them!”

“That’s not-!” Steve groaned, massaging his temple. “Nevermind. I’ll do it. They seemed like good kids, anyway.”

“Wonderful! Once you get settled into Joyce’s home, we will properly introduce you to all of them. From there, you can conclude the proper way to handle them with their unique personalities and abilities. However, I must ask.” A coy smile came to Kas’ lips as he leaned back into his chair. “As we are in this circumstance together, and as a modesty to one another, do I get to know the name of my betrothed?”

“Nope. If you want to know my name, then you’ll have to earn it. Think of it as trying to get into my good graces.” A chuckle left Kas’s lips, eyes falling onto the younger.

“Earning one’s name, a romantic challenge.” Steve scoffed, standing with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s not a challenge.”

“Nonsense! I shall earn the name of my betrothed like a worthy king.” Kas fell back, draping his body across the settee, hand resting on his forehead. Steve snorted, turning back to face the door to hide the blush that she was sure painting his cheeks.

“Don’t say it like that, dude! If we are done, I’m grabbing what is mine to move to Joyce’s.” 

“Very well. I would suggest getting to know the older kids since you will be living with one, if not two.”

“The ones that helped Joyce nurse me back to health?”

“Young Master Byers is her son and apprentice. The grounds keeper can be found keeping him company at any hour rather than keeping the garden most days.” The king stretched before standing, setting the bottle down on the table. “I do believe the day is still young and I have a day filled with meetings, so if you have no other terms, then I believe our time is up. We will speak more about other matters tomorrow?” Steve gave a nod before standing by himself. “Very well, until tomorrow, Curantis.”

Another scoff left the young boy as he turned to walk to the door. A yelp echoed as he pushed it open, nearly smacking one of the children with the heavy door. Blue eyes glared up at Steve through a mess of curls from where the boy had fallen. The older expected screaming and crying, yet he just stood up and brushed himself off, picking up his book that skidded away. Steve contemplated asking if he was alright or take his unbothered state as confirmation when Kas spoke up.

“Dustin, I have warned you not to stand close to doors. You have come too close to losing your head way too often. Lady luck will not always be so generous.”

“I was not hovering! I was looking for you! The newest edition of “A Knight’s Quest” has arrived from the author. I have been waiting for your business to conclude to come read it.”

“I am sorry, Dusty, but my day is packed. My uncle will shake me dead if I shirk my responsibilities.” The young boy deflated almost immediately.

“But you said that last time we were to hang out.” The defeat in the boys sent a familiar chill down Steve’s spine. It was like he was witnessing his childhood, holding his favorite book, with a broken heart as his mother belittled his childish ways. It was his first heartbreak, but he learned his first lesson of life, not to show weakness. He was lucky his father hadn’t been present because he would have been backhanded for his whining. Still, he pitied the boy and feared for him and his big mouth.

“Forget it then!” He growled, speeding off after throwing the book down at Kas’ feet. The king sighed, picking the book up, and placing it on the table beside the lounge door before turning his gaze back to Steve.

“Enjoy the rest of the day however you would like. I do have other business to attend to, as stated prior.” With that, he’d left the younger in the corridor, openly trusting him alone without a guard monitoring his every move. He hardly remembered the path they took, and he was sure Joyce was waiting for him. Without much other thought, he grabbed the book and did his best to retrace his steps.

His sign that he found the right path was the squeal of the children before he broke into the garden. They were chasing one another under the watch of the two teenagers. Joyce was nowhere in sight. He felt out of place amongst strangers that not ten minutes before he was chasing, his eyes drifting over the group to see if he had perhaps missed Joyce in the garden. With still no sight of her, he thought if maybe he should try to play another round of tag until she resurfaced, only for his eyes to scan over to a lonesome tree.

 It was the curly-haired boy, now curled up with his chin on his arms, watching his friends play. It was that sight that made up his mind, walking to the younger, taking a seat beside the boy. Neither spoke, waiting for the other to address the new presence. Steve decided he’d have to start it, staring at the others running around in the flowers. “Why aren’t you playing?”

“Mike is a jerk. He said I am not allowed to join them since I originally chose literacy over activity. He is not letting me interrupt them.”

“That sucks. What about the others? What did they want?”

“They did not hear the conversation. To be honest, I am too mad to play safely. I do not expect you to understand. You are just a nobody.” Dustin growled, tucking his watering eyes into his forearm.

“Well, that’s rude. Don’t hold back. I’m just trying to be nice, but if you want to be a dick, I can just buzz off.”

“I do not require a nanny. If Mike wishes to be a horse’s ass, then I will go retrieve my book and read it by myself.” He made to stand, only to be stopped when Steve held the book up in his face.

“Figured if you wanted to read it with someone, I’m free. I could read it with you, but it may take a bit longer since I have dyslexia.” 

‘What?” 

“It’s a disorder from where I come from. The words move and it makes it hard to read.” A gasp left Dustin, the boy on his knees and grabbing the book.

“You have been cursed! We must have vast knowledge on breaking it.”

“Not a curse. It’s a disability. My brain just doesn’t work like yours, but I live with it. It’ll just take longer.”

“So an illness then?” The boy was confused, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Nope, just a thing that some people have and there’s no real cure. However, I have done things to help me.”

“Do you have anyone to read to you?”

“Sorry, kid, but my parents were never that kind of parent. I had a nanny for a short period before my parents thought I could take care of myself. They just hated the fact that they would try to help, fire them when they wouldn’t stop babying me, their words not mine.”

“That’s cruel.” A silence fell over the two, only filled with the excited shouts from the other children. A breeze passed by, whipping Steve’s slightly longer locks across his face. He began to contemplate asking Joyce for a haircut when Dustin jumped up, making the older jump. “My mother taught me to read so I can read to you! What use is her teaching if I do not share? A read to the king when he gets too exhausted, but refuses to sleep until he reads the next chapter.”

“Your parents don’t mind you reading and following the king around?”

“My papa was a guard for his uncle, but not a good man. He tried trading his life for coin. I understand what it is like having a failure as a parent.”

“Shit kid. I’m guessing the king didn’t take kindly to that?” Steve pried, chancing a glance at Dustin with weighted eyes.

“On the contrary. My papa was killed in the betrayal and the king took mercy on my mother and I. She became a cook while I was offered classes with the others.”

“She seems like a lovely woman.” Shaking his head, Dustin snatched the older’s hand with a newfound excitement.

“Would you like to meet her!?”

“Oh. I don’t want to bother her.”

“She is not busy! Come!” With little to no fight, Steve was dragged through a path in the garden. As they went deeper, the laughter disappeared, replaced by tree leaves shaking. He had yet had the chance to wander around the castle grounds, so color him surprised when they found themselves in another opening filled with a fenced off smaller garden.

Dustin tore his way through the flora, dragging the older boy along with them until they came up to a stone among the flowers. It was clearly a statue of a woman, a plaque at her feet. It took Steve a moment to register what he was looking at. It was a grave marker. A new tension fell over the boys as the older looked down at the younger.

Dustin wore a sad smile as he knelt down, adjusting some flowers that had been placed there prior. “This is my mom. I come out to visit or read to her all the time.” He shifted, resting his back against the stone. Steve stared at the young boy, who was speaking to the grave about his day, trying to fight his tears that threatened to fall.

He sank down to join Dustin, letting the boy continue to ramble while he was trying to sort out the best line of questioning. When he’d finished giving a play-by-play of the day, a silence fell over the garden. Neither knew what to say next. It wasn’t until Steve cleared his throat that either boy looked at the other. 

“W-What happened?” He was worried he was crossing a line, that he’d upset the boy, yet all he received was a huff.

“Illness. She contracted a disease and passed within a few months. Lady Joyce tried to heal her, unfortunately she was sick far too long. Kas took me under as a ward once she passed, giving me access to stay in the castle and the lessons provided. We have become like brothers.” A small smile played on Dustin’s face as he flipped the book open. “It stings that he has hardly had time to spend with me since taking over as king. Perhaps that is why he was so willing to have you nanny over us as an apology for having to abandon us.”

“That’s not true. He doesn’t trust me enough to let me have free rein. You’re on guard duty, whether you know it or not.” A smirk played across Steve’s lips as he nudged the younger playfully. 

“Well then, we shall spend the time on how I see fit. I will read the tale of Knight Alderman.” A snort left the older boy, Steve, falling back in the grass to get comfortable. They were going to be there for a while.

Joyce opened the office door to the sight of Kas gazing out the wide window. He didn’t pull his eyes, only acknowledging her with a simple, “Please close the door.” It was a quiet moment before either spoke again.

“You summoned me?”

“Yes. I just talked to our guest, and he notified me that you offered him a place to sleep away from the castle.” Without a view of his face, Joyce tried to gauge his tone. It was tense, something she doesn’t normally hear from the young king.

“He is. I promised him a safe home life, one that was not blessed with. If you are wishing to use my generosity as a ruse to spy on him, I will not be doing so. Neither I, my children, nor my husband will take part in being the next to betray him. I owe him so much more for bringing my children’s torturer to justice, and I will do all in my power to protect him from those who wish him harm.” Kas held his hand up, silencing the women.

“I am not asking that of you, Joyce. He and I have had words and, much to the strangeness of his tale, I believe he is an unwilling participant. My uncle will not be happy when news reaches him about my unplanned betrothal, yet I worry more that his safety is now threatened.” Kas turned to face the woman, hair falling looser than it had been when she’d seen him a near hour ago. 

“Brenner has tried, and others will as well. For his own protection, he shall never be alone outside the castle walls. Guards will be attached to him, much like any of you. To stave his boredom, he has been given the duty of curantis. He shall be known as such until he has deemed us worthy enough of his name and shall be watching over the children between classes. Until then, we shall research the magic cast on the bracelet. Do you have any objections?” Joyce didn’t miss the look in his eyes as he avoided hers, twirling a strand of hair in his fingers. It was a poor attempt to hide a blush that flushed his cheeks, and it downed on the woman.

A gentle smile came to her face as the tension fled from her. Without a word or hesitation, she closed the distance, cupping his cheeks in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. Many forgot that the king was just a child himself, barely older than her eldest, and that showed in his eyes. 

“Oh Theodore. You have no need to fret because Hop will be with us as well as your choosing of guards. I will keep him under my eye and make sure he is protected. He is not such a bad person, just a scared child, much like you are. I know Wayne’s departure threw you into the role of Kas, but you are handling it the best of your ability. Regardless of how he finds out, he will not be disappointed or angry that your bracelet has found itself on a stranger. We judge actions first, consequences last. I will always be here to listen to any issues you need to share, ever since you first stepped into these castle walls.”

He smiled up at the woman, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand before lowering their hands. “I appreciate the openness, Joyce, and I know my uncle will not hold it against me, but if we cannot remove the bracelet, then there are only two options. Neither is preferred and I am positive he would like to return home with all appendages.” He turned to face the window again, fingers returning to twirl his hair.

“If that is how you wish to approach this, then I will follow your lead. Now to find him.”

“That is no challenge.” Kas spoke, directing the woman’s gaze out the window. Joyce approached, looking out amongst the king’s private garden. There, laying hidden under the trees’ shadows, was her new ward. Curled up with him was Dustin, using the older boy’s stomach as a pillow, both sound asleep, bringing a doting smile to the healer’s lips.

“Dustin has seemed to bond quickly with him. That boy could befriend a rabid dog with simple curiosity.”

“That is part of his personality that charms people. He can worm his way into anyone’s heart.” The king smiled, just watching the two sleep.

“Oh dear, he is going to anger Nancy if he is late for another course.” There was no genuine worry in her voice as she dreaded having to wake them. “I hate to ruin such peace, but I do need to get Curantis home.”

“Very well. Take him out to the market for supplies. I will provide coin. He can watch the kids tomorrow.” With a nod, Joyce excused herself, heading out to the gardens to wake the boys.

[zjpg]

no body, no crime

summary inspired by no body, no crime by taylor swift

pairing lando norris x este , ??? (reader) x revenge

warnings cheating, death and murder

a/n i hope this is good omg i'm kinda scared hahaahah. anyway live laugh love taylor swift.

Este's a friend of mine, We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

"Sorry I'm late, traffic." celeste huff and sits across from her friend. The wine has been waiting in it's corked bottle, but her exact salad order was already placed at her side of the table. "No worries, baby-love" her best friend smiles at her as the young waiter walks over and pops the wine's cork

This was their weekly thing, always has been since they were in high school. Hard to believe that the two girls that were sat at this table talking about things like marriage, taxes and alcohol were once two younger girls gossiping about boys, weekend sports games, and hair color. That's just how things change sometime. But the older of the two hated changed. Always has. Always will.

That's why they kept this Tuesday tradition even through college. They always had dinner together, same restaurant, same table, same wine, same orders. No changes. Just the way they liked it, loved it.

"How's Lando?" The older woman asked her friend before sipping her wine. An unpleasant taste makes its way through her mouth, replacing the usually enjoyable red wine once she saw celeste's face change into a saddened and depressed expression.

"Well, he's great. I just, I've noticed some things recently..."

She says, "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

"It's just... I drink the same wine he does,"

"Merlot," her friend nods, earning a nod back. Lando had money, coming from a rich background and growing up in an even richer future as a Formula 1 driver. He drives on circuits everywhere around the world, from america to italy to tokyo. so it's safe to say he knew their wines. Celeste was the same, growing up in a just as wealthy family, she's enjoyed her moms expensive wines since she was in high school, which was odd amongst the crowd of teenagers that were drinking spirits and beers.

"Yeah, and the merlot we drink, it doesn't leave that red stain on his lips." She lets out a small sigh before pushing further into her point, "And I only wear silver jewelry, always have, but I went through our bank accounts for bills and I saw gold jewelry being bought on his account."

Maybe she's exaggerating, but the more she's looked back on the past few months, things start making sense. Less time together, less sex, quieter 'I love you's. She wondered if he was bored, she tried her best to keep their relationship exciting in many different ways. But nothing has changed.

The older friend wanted so badly to go online and expose him, call him out on his bullshit that Este has been crying about for the past few months. She wanted to end his little fanbase, maybe even his career. But there wasn't enough proof, she needed proof.

No body, no crime.

"I think he did it, but... I just can't prove it"

The next Tuesday cam by and she hadn't heard from Celeste at all that day, nonetheless, she still showed up to their usual restaurant. But after about an hour she made a call to their other friend, Inez, she works with Celeste, they've all been fairly close since school. Though Inez isn't the most trustworthy source, she knows she would get an honest answer as to where Celeste was. "I haven't seen her, I thought she was sick but our boss said she hasn't even called in sick. We figured she just got too sick to call this morning."

But that's not like Celeste. Her best friend had seen her call into their high school to let them know she wasn't making it even when she had food poisoning. She knows that's not the case. She left the restaurant, making her way to the Norris household. "I haven't seen her either, I tried filing a report but they said I have to wait 24 hours." He seemed panicked, like he had been crying and screaming all day long. His voice was practically gone and his hands were shaking more than a small dog stuck in the winter snow.

Hе reports his missing wife. And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires.

The tires was one thing, maybe he genuinely needed tires. His face is all over the news along with Celeste's talking about his missing wife, but they don't bother to mention his new side pieces that just moved in...

"his mistress moved in, sleeps in Este's bed and everything!" Inez's nosy ass came in hand from time to time. She saw the move in truck when she was making her way to work one day. At first she thought it was Lando that was moving out, turns out the mistress that their dear friend had been worrying about weeks before had moved in.

"I think he did it, I just can't prove it."

"No body, no crime." Inez shrugged, not thinking much of her friends statement, surely Norris wasn't up to anything? He loved Este. Right?

As time went on, it was obvious. He did it. Even the police think so, but rich people always get their way don't they? She starts coming up with a plan. Vengeance. It ran through her bloodstream, it felt like a burning sensation.

"Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen." Everything was going according to plan, it was perfect.

"Hey, Lando." She gave him a smile. It had been four months since Celeste was presumed dead, the investigation went silent a while ago and the whole town gave up hope of finding her. Her name is no longer a trending topic, but her voice and face are still gone.

The racing driver looked at his dead wife's friend with shock but nervousness. He tries to cover it with a mask of sadness, but she knew better than to fall for a man's lies. She was invited in, seeing no trace on her friend anywhere in the mansion that Celeste had called home.

"What are you doing here?" He asked once the door closed and locked behind him. He knew something was up, he was smart but not much of a genius, clearly. "Just catching up Norris," She smiled at the taller individual, "I see you and the new girl are getting along just fine. That didn't take long?"

"It's been a year."

"Took you barely 10 months to move her in." She states back. "I wanna show you something."

The drive to the docks was a good 10 minutes, Monaco is a great place to live when you want to buy a fancy new yacht. Her dad's yacht was nothing compared to Lando's driving competitor, but it was still very impressive. "Your dad's yacht?"

The amount of parties that were thrown around and on the yacht were crazy, it's how him and Este met in the first place. He thought it was a sweet gesture from the girl, though she saw the look on his face the entire time they were on the water. He looked sea sick, but she knows the driver had been on plenty of yacht's in his life, he's not sea sick.

He was quick to realize what was happening when they stopped in the middle of the nowhere on the deep waters. He knew, he came to terms with it, but he was so sure they would catch her, unlike they did him. His name is bigger, his house, his cars, his bank account, they're all bigger. But her? She's simply just... better.

"I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene." Was the last thing he would hear that night. They next morning she would let her father know that the boat is cleaned, smells of fresh lemons and other citrus like aroma's. "Thank you sweetheart, glad to know you still have time to clean that ole' thing between your classes," He handed her some wadded up cash. The monthly occurrence of cleaning for her parents, everything from their yard to the yacht, they are just far too old to do it themselves.

News stations, media outlets, and other headlining articles went crazy after the mistress filed a missing persons report. Lando Norris missing nearly a full year after his wife's disappearance.

"Formula 1 McLaren driver, Lando Norris, was reported missing last night after not coming home from a boating trip with some friends. Officials have yet to give anymore details."

Good things Este's sisters gonna swear she was with me.

"She was with me, dude, I told you this. We all went out on the yacht, he got too drunk so we sent him home." Alana swore up and down her truth, another cover up that will never slip her teeth. Her parents always said she would be a good actor, she got away with everything as a kid. Este used to hate it.

"To his wife?"

"They're married? I don't know, man, I guess. She seemed pretty pissed if you ask me."

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

She was cleared, no proof, no evidence. they checked the camera's, Alana and her sisters friend helping each other drag Lando's drunken body back in the truck. The yacht was clean, "I clean it at this time every month for my parents, they're getting too old to scrub it down like they used to, ya know?" The maid and her parents vouched for her, it's true, the end every month when it wasn't too cold or hot, she was at the docs. The other boat owners even agreed.

"They think she did it, but they just can't prove it." The news reporter stated as a picture of the now widowed mistress was shown on the screen. The television shuts off as a smirk is splattered on their faces.

"She thinks I did it." She smiles at the younger, chuckling in disbelief as if she was crazy for thinking just a thing. "She just can't prove it. But, like we've always said, No body." She raises up her wine glass.

Celeste copies the gesture with a venomous smile, "No crime."

taglist: @enhacolor @bibissparkles @blueanfield

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed after qualifying, austria - june 29, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Heya, George." George: "Hello." Interviewer: "Corking lap to get P3. You pleased with that?" George: "Yeah, I was pleased with it. It was a challenging lap because on two occasions I just saw dust in the distance, and I came 'round the corner and there was gravel everywhere. Like, bugger, this is gonna cost me half a tenth or a tenth. Then I approached the last two corners, gravel on the track again. I'm like, what's going on here? When I crossed the line it was P4 initially. I was a little bit frustrated, 'cause I felt there was more on the table, but P3 is a very fair result, very good result. Three races in a row now that we've been P3, with Lewis last week… In the top three, sorry. So yeah, it's exciting." Interviewer: "Feels like you've got the edge on Ferrari this weekend, and with only a Red Bull and a McLaren ahead of you, can you hold onto that podium? Do you think there's a real fight there?" George: "Yeah, I mean, it's been three races in a row now that we've been head of Ferrari, three very different circuits, and that really bodes well for us, but it's so tight out there. It was half a tenth this morning between us, we were maybe one-tenth quicker in the race, and it can very easily swing. But I thnk the setup changes we made from this morning will help our race pace, so I'm pretty happy about that."

[paranoidginger]

Lab-Rat part 2

Tw: General angst, violence, and descriptions of panic.

Sitting Curled, with his knees to his chest and his face hidden by his hands, voices finally came into full focus. His breathing was rapid and painful as the freshly stitched incisions across his torso pulled and tore ever so slightly at his fragile skin, blood darkening the already black fabric of his shirt. The voices -a pair, it seemed- muttered and conversed amongst themselves before one of them ran off, the sound of footsteps echoing away as the sound of battle raged on everywhere else around him.

There was a soft fwump, fwump, fwump before Bait felt a hand on his shoulder. "Ya can poot yer hands down, ye know. Scoot's off to get ye the medic... Yer nae our spy, but tha's okay... Hopefully ye can explain where ye came from once we get ya back to the base." The Demoman sat down beside the cloned spy, looking out at his sticky traps that were hopefully far enough away to keep the new stranger safe from the blast. He never could be sure, lack of depth perception made that sort of thing hard. He took out a bottle, taking a swig before looking back over at the still cowering spy. "Ye want a drink? I've got plenny o' scrumpy left."

In the quiet moment after the question, the clone finally managed to gather the courage to uncover his face, a quiet whimper managing to bypass his stitched mouth as he wrapped his arms around his chest. The demo's eye widened, clearly startled by the sight in front of him as he stammered slightly.

"good lord, mate, who the hell did tha' tae ye!?" He stopped for a moment, just staring. "Ye know what, I don't even want tae know." He took another long drink from his bottle of scrumpy before corking the bottle and putting it down, patting the spy gently on the shoulder before getting back to his feet, flagging down his medic as he spotted him approaching. Bait could see the vague shape of the doctor as he approached, an all too familiar shape as he felt his throat tighten. That familiar shape grew closer and closer, until it filled the small amount of vision that he still had.

"Demo, go ahead and get back to defending the intelligence. I will meet you back at the respawn chamber when the mission is done." The spy could feel as the medic knelt down, and he couldn't help but feel as his breathing picked up. A voice all too familiar. The voice of the man who made him as he was. The man who had left him here... It hurt as he tried to scramble away, one arm remaining over his chest, as if it was the only thing holding him together. "Shh shh- listen to me, I'm not here to hurt you! You are injured, I'm just here to do my job." Bait could feel as a gloved hand lightly touched his chest and pulled away, but the doctor's words did nothing to calm him, only driving himself deeper into the corner he was wedged in. "Oh dear... That is quite a lot of blood... Try to hold still, bitte." There was a soft rustle as the medic grabbed his medigun from it's holster, giving the tool a small once-over before locking the beam onto the spy.

It was a strange feeling, to have that familiar whirr take away his pain, rather than do the bare minimum to keep him alive... It was only a few moments before he felt significantly better... Still damp with his own blood and slightly sore, he managed to shove the medic away from himself with a firm push before struggling to his feet and beginning to run... Run and hope he wasn't gunned down with a barrage of sedative darts...

Part 1

You are here!

(Please give feedback! I'd like to improve on my writing, so feedback is very appreciated)

[ewanmitchelll]

•Wait for me…•

Imagine it’s 1944, Aemond goes to war and he parts without knowing your feelings for him. What then?

Warnings: N/P= the name of the place of your choosing. Y/C= your college course.

Recommendations: “Wait For Me”, Kings of Leon. “Thinking of You” and “The One That Got Away” by Katy Perry.

***

The year is 1944. War is carrying further, leaving destructions everywhere, anywhere with little hopes of coming to an end. It has become part of the routine to turn the tv and see the images of bombs, armies marching against the other, scenes of extreme violence and sadness.

You, on the other hand, try to avoid watching. It’s bad enough to live in such scenario, worse to allow oneself to live with hopes. As you grow in your teenage years, you spend time with the Targaryen family in a small village located in N/P, United Kingdom. Though the big, white mansion is the summer house of that family, you more than often are seen around them.

And though everyone seems to think you and Helaena are the best of friends, it’s by Aemond’s side you are seen the most: whether riding a bike together, climbing trees or even studying.

You two know each other so well that even his mother once remarked:

“You know, Y/N. I’ve only seen Aemond smiling widely when he’s around you. Not even his family has earned such privilege.”

At which you blushed and appreciated the consideration. But even so the Targaryens are like your second family, so you feel free to be yourself around them.

So now you are getting close to celebrate your 20’s and you are about to get to university to study Y/C. Under a cork tree, right in front of the lake, you and Aemond are talking about it.

“So I want to become a y/c”, you tell him, placing your curls behind your ears, making sure not to have your hair a complete mess when you are around him, a sudden concern you try not to pay attention this much. “And after a lot of conversation with my father and my mother, they agreed! I thought they wouldn’t, but they did!”

Aemond, in turn, is surprised to find sadness upon such news. Yet, he masks well when occupying himself with lighting a cigarette.

“Does this mean you are leaving to US?”

“What? No. I wouldn’t dare to go that far”, you mumble shyly, looking down at your hands and missing the side, shy smile when he casts you a relieved glance. “You know I cannot afford crossing the ocean and establish myself.”

And yet, despite his selfishness, he finds himself saying:

“You know we could always help you. You are practically a family, Y/N.”

You smile at him and your heart skips a beat when he smiles too. Uh-oh. Oh you wish you haven’t noticed that when he is happy, your heart swoons as a result.

“I appreciate it, dear Aemond. But I wouldn’t ask you this. I.. I prefer to stay.”

“How come? There is so much you could do. I mean, I would go if I had the opportunity”, he grumbles.

You shoot him a hurt glare despite being aware that he has a complicated relationship with his father and his elder sister.

“What about me?”, you hear yourself saying and almost instantly you wish you had not opened your mouth.

But Aemond scoffs at you.

“I would take you with me, of course”, the Targaryen smiles gently when seeing you blush.

A pleasant sight to behold.

If only you knew, though…

“Well, we could always run away together despite the darkness this world has been plagued to.”

“I’d like that. Don’t see why not.”

“You are quiet today”, you remark, leaving your spot to join his side. “What’s been happening?”

Aemond sighs heavily. Looking at the horizon, he at first refuses to look at you, but you are patient. Very gently you put your hand over his shoulder and rub it.

As you wait, your eyes linger at his long silver hair, his long face with lilac eyes that often hid from others what you could easily perceive: his kindness, sense of duty, gentleness to others, loyalty to his family. Where people judged his pride, you’d find him reserved, preferring quiet occasions than lousy ones.

Oh damn it, Aemond. I think I’ve fallen for you.

The realization knocks your heart down, specially aware that you’d never be his type: he’d been in a long relationship with an older woman named Alice Rivers for about five years and the break up wasn’t easy—despite the evident relief in his family, who clearly disapproved the match.

So you remove your hand and look away, thoughtful, but nothing is yet to remain the same when Aemond, feeling the cold on the spot he appreciated the warmth of your touch, gives you the worst news you could expect.

“You know, Y/N. There is something I haven’t had the courage to tell you.” He hesitates.

You look at him, already distressed when he is careful with words—knowing Aemond is not, like when you witnessed him shouting at his older sister Rhaenyra for trying to teach him lessons about dating an older woman when she hooked up with her own uncle—, for something bad is happening. As you predict, it does.

“Yes? Aemond, darling, what is it?”

He cannot look you in the eyes when saying:

“I-I’m going to fight in the war.”

You don’t even realize you shout.

“WHAT?”

You don’t realize you start sobbing.

“W-WHY? No, Aemond! No!”

Aemond swallows his own tears before pulling you to an embrace, forbidding you to flee from his arms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I…I was a coward”, he speaks softly to you. “I’m sorry, Y/Nickname. I really am. But I had no choice upon this matter.”

You cast him a hurtful look without parting the embrace, his arms so tight around you that even if you wanted to, you could not get away so easily. You hug him in return, not saying a word as you two stay like this for a long while.

You understand his motivations, but you blame yourself for expecting… What exactly were you expecting, though? That one day he’d find out you have feelings for him and suddenly you’d replace Mrs Rivers in his affections? That the war would never find you and part one from the other?

“What are you thinking? Please talk to me”, he begs you, cupping your face when looking for your eyes.

“I…”

There is so much you wish you could say. But believing to be far from reaching his heart, you are stuck with your words. What comes out of tongue disappoints Aemond, whose thoughts mirror yours.

“Why must you go? This is not your war to fight.”

“You know I cannot refuse. My father’s influence along my maternal grandfather’s managed to prevent my participation in the front.”

“I bet Aegon kept instigating you about it”, you remark with evident displeasure.

“He always sought glory and in many ways, distorted these might be, he is dutiful. He’s been sent to Germany, however, and so far it’s not been so bad.”

You shake your head.

“Come on Y/Nickname”, says Aemond rather anxiously. “I must do what is expected from me. Lots of men are doing so.”

Your eyes are full of protest, Aemond can tell they do, but your gentle nature softens it.

“As long as you come back to us whole, well and alive.”

Aemond gives a smile before taking your hands and kissing each, which makes you giggle.

“I promise you, Y/N. I promise you I’ll come back.”

And he is yet to say something—his impulsiveness seems to realize that he must profess how ardently he loves you before he goes to war—when Lord Otto, his grandfather, comes after you.

“So is it here your secret spot, children?”, the older male laughs away as you two instantly part from each other, and he finds quite absurd how you can’t see what is evident to everyone. “Well, I lament to intrude but Aemond, General Lannister is waiting for you. Apparently you are needed urgently. Your poor mother is already weeping.”

Lord Otto nods at you and there is little time to say anything. Aware how Aemond is colder in front of his relatives, you expect nothing but a quick goodbye. But Aemond hesitates. All he does, though, is look into your eyes, seeing something in them.

I wish I could investigate what there is in your y/c eyes, Y/N. I wonder if you feel the way I do… May God spare me and let me know if you when I come back.

Thoughts that do not, however, reach out for his tongue.

“Take care, Y/N. I’ll see you around.”

He knows… Aemond knows that, without waiting for your response, the moment he turns, you’ll weep. He is forced to swallow his own tears.

And he is right. You are left in silent tears, hating yourself for never telling how much he means to you.

***

A year later… Oxford University.

You don’t move on. You simply cannot, in spite of the appearances. In spite of dressing a long blue skirt and a red-white short sleeved shirt. In spite of putting those Mary Jane’s black shoes and carrying your notes everywhere. In spite of conceding dances to other gentlemen such as Mr Alex Velaryon.

But no gentlemen match your beloved Aemond, your best friend, whom you loved since you were a child. Who went to fight a war and never again you heard news from him.

Because you started to study y/c at Oxford University. Because the Targaryens never again came back to the village you were raised. Because war ruined your dreams.

Your hair is shorter, filled with curls in the manner of these days. You like the fashion. It helps making you feel alive—because part of you left with him.

He is not dead. I know in my heart, Aemond. I know you are alive.

But there are moments your heart is heavy with regret and remorse for never telling him how you feel. So you write this in your journal:

“I should’ve told you what you’ve meant to me. So now I pay the price. In another life, I would make you stay so I don’t have to say you were the one that got away.”

You, however, wait. Specially when news of the end of the war reach your ears. It’s a great relief and everyone is naturally overjoyed. Classes are ended before time and you are allowed to visit your family.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond is on his way home. He has missed an eye during the conflict, but he is going back as a war hero. Despite the traumas he’s got to deal with, all he cares now is to find you.

Aemond too collects remorses. War has changed him, his perspectives...and mostly taught him that there might not be tomorrow. Losing an eye is nothing compared with the possibility of losing you.

"You are too quiet, Aemond", so says Aegon. "Are you seriously letting it affect you? If I survived this shit, so will you."

"Each to their own", grumbles Aemond. "You became a drunk man, Aegon. How does that make you feel better?"

Aegon pats his brother's shoulder and says:

"Each to their own", he repeats his words.

But they do share the relief of coming back home. By the time they are dropped at the Targaryen mansion, the brothers are surprised to find their father waiting for them next to their mother.

"My boys!", it's Alicent who runs in their direction.

It's a moment to count their blessings, indeed. Even Viserys leaves pride aside to acknowledge he hasn't been the best of parents. Reconciliation is a most prudent path to take, the first steps to heal old wounds.

But as much as Aemond wishes to take part of it, the urgences in his heart cannot wait any further. So he excuses himself from his family.

"My son!", exclaims Alicent in perplexity. "Where are you going to?"

Aegon smirks, but it's Helaena who responds:

"Oh, he is going to purchase his lady's heart at long last!"

***

You are twirling in your swing, finding the celebrations boring. You are not in the mood to tolerate your family, and their constant implications you are in the age of marriage. Your cousin even went as far as telling how he got over the first woman he fell in love.

Ugh. Their assumptions are so unwelcoming and out of place.

However, you do feel sad when considering the possibilities of your life had you told him how you felt.

Not to know makes difficult to move on.

Yet, every doubt dissipates and with it, the shadow of the reminiscent sadness when a very known voice is heard:

"I never thought I would find my lady in such a state."

When looking up, you find Aemond himself standing before you. He is dressed in his old uniform and there is a mix of anxiety and concern in his lilac eyes when staring at you.

Your heart races, but you hesitate.

“Is that a phantom that stands before me?”

He takes your hand, tears emerging in his eyes.

“Is this touch not real enough for you? Oh, madam, what other proof is enough to dissipate any doubts about my return?”

You promptly stand and hold him tight, all the whilst Aemond breathes in relief and lifts you in the air, spinning you around.

“I told you I would come back for you, silly head.”

You giggle amidst tears.

“It’s really you!”

“One eyed, indeed, but me!”

And words come out just like that.

“I love you all the same, Aemond.”

It’s when his face brightens that you notice what you said. And you pale at once.

“Y/N…”, Aemond smiles the brightest at your reaction. It’s so much better he’d ever conceived how it was gonna be. “What did you say?”

You untag yourself from his embrace, turning abruptly on your back, detesting to feel that old anxiety that plagued your teenage years about anything that was out of your league—and Aemond had always been one of those things, at least according to your judgement.

“I didn’t say anything.”

But he turns you at him, making you look at him.

“I heard you well. Why are you running away from me? I told you I would come back for you, didn’t I?”

You swallow hard, specially when he cups your cheeks and, caressing each, makes you look at him.

“I love you too, Y/Nickname. I’m sorry I took so long to admit it.”

“I thought you loved her”, you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“I thought it too, but when it comes to you… Good God. I was afraid you were married by now”, he says, afflicted.

You smile gently, placing your hands all over his chest.

“My heart has always been yours.”

“You waited for me”, Aemond smiles back.

“Of course I did. I will always wait for you.”

“As I will always come for you, my wife.”

You smile brightly.

“My husband.”

And so he pulls you for a kiss, sealing your destiny for good.

[kimberly40]

Southernisms:

Dumb as a bag full of hammers.

Meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.

I won't say it's far, but I had to grease the wagon twice before I hit the main road.

If a trip around the world cost a dollar, I couldn't get to the state line.

He looks like he was inside the outhouse when lightening struck.

She looks like she was born down wind from the outhouse.

Never kick a fresh turd on a hot day.

Never smack a man who's chewin' tobacco.

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over and put it back in your pocket.

Scared as a sinner in a cyclone.

Scared as a cat at the dog pound.

She's so ugly she'd make a freight train take a dirt road.

He's so ugly his cooties have to close their eyes.

So ugly his mama takes him everywhere she goes so she doesn't have to kiss him goodbye.

She looks like she fell face-down in the sticker patch and cows ran over her.

He looks like the dogs have been keepin' him under the porch.

He's about as sharp as a mashed potato.

So dusty the rabbits are digging holes six feet in the air.

It'll last about as long as a fart in a whirlwind.

He's rough as a corn cob.

He's got enough money to burn a wet mule.

He's about as sharp as a bag full of wet mice.

It's as dry as the dust in a mummy's pocket.

It's about as scarce as bird crap in a cuckoo clock.

He's as tight as the pages in a book.

This race is as tight as the rusted lug nuts on a '55 Ford.

It’s hot enough to peel house paint.

Running like a squirrel in a cage.

Safe as a tick on a dog with a stiff neck.

He couldn't pour rain out of a boot with a hole in the toe and directions on the heel.

If dumb was dirt, he'd cover about half an acre.

So windy we're using a log chain instead of a wind sock.

Tighter than bark on a tree.

As welcome as an outhouse breeze.

Her hair looks like a cats been suckin' on it.

We were so poor my brother and me had to ride double on our stick horse.

As bad-off as a rubber-nosed woodpecker in a petrified forest.

As confused as a cow on astroturf.

It was so hot you could pull a baked potato right out of the ground.

It's so dry the trees are whistling for the dogs.

Busier than a cat covering crap on a marble floor.

If things get any better around here, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.

Well knock me down and steal muh teeth!

Cute as a box full of puppies.

You can't get rid of 'em. He's like a booger you can't thump off.

It's about as hard as trying to steer a herd of cats.

The wheels still turning, but the hamster's dead.

He's so confused he doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass.

She was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

So crooked you can't tell from his tracks if he's coming or going.

I wouldn't trust him any farther than I can throw him.

He's got more guts than you could hang on a fence.

So dry the catfish are carrying canteens.

So dry I'm spitting cotton.

So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

Cold as a frosted frog.

Cold as an ex-wife's heart.

Cold as a cast iron commode.

Cold as a banker's heart.

She's about as useful as buttons on a dishrag.

He's tougher than a two-dollar steak.

Happy as a puppy with two tails.

She’s got enough wrinkles to hold an eight-day rain.

That’s about as useful as a trap door on a canoe!

He’s busier than a one-legged man at a butt-kickin contest!

He’s so dumb he couldn’t piss his name in the snow.

That politician’s so crooked he could hide behind a cork screw!

That baby was so ugly the Doctor spanked the Momma!

She’s so ugly she’s got ten-foot pole marks all over her.

It’s rainin’ so hard it sounds like a cow pissing on a flat rock.

He’s so bad off, his eyes looked like two piss-holes in a snowbank.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

Her hair looks like it caught on fire and somebody put it out with a brick.

He couldn’t find his rear with his hands in his back pockets.

It’s raining so hard the animals are starting to pair up.

His pants were so tight that if he farted, he’d blow his boots off.

Raising kids is like being pecked to death by a chicken.

He’s so skinny, his pants had only one back pocket.

He was mean enough to hunt bears with a hickory switch.

He was ugly as a burnt boot.

Tougher than the back end of a shootin' gallery.

...Thank You, Dear Lord, for blessing me with being a Southerner.

•Photo taken near Spruce Pine, North Carolina

[maitaitiu]

Above It All OCxCanon week 2024 Day 1: Play Fighting Pairing type: platonic Canon Character: Johanna Mason OC: Marsh Belltide Fandom: THG Wordcount: 1633

AO3 link CWS: underage drinking, mentions of/implied death and injury, swearing, heights

Synopsis: The evening after the 70th annual Reaping, Marsh Belltide and Johanna Mason sit out in the woods to chat, as they do every year.

“You got it?” Johanna asked her friend as they shut the door to their house behind them.

Her friend rolled their eyes, “Obviously. What do you take me for?”

“An idiot,” she smiled, and took the glass bottle her friend was hiding under their sweater and stuffed it into her messenger bag, “Nice. Let’s go.”

And the pair set off, only occasionally glancing over their shoulders to make sure that nobody had spotted them.

In truth, neither of them felt particularly great about sneaking out on the evening after the Reaping; not while they knew there was two families weeping with their shutters closed; not while the both of them had such personal ties to the Games. And yet, it had always been a tradition. Sneak out into the woods after the Reaping, when their families were asleep, and go and chat and sing and laugh in the woods until daybreak.

After a good few miles of walking at a decent pace, the pair found themselves far into the woods, in the same clearing they always used for this night, after finding it the eve of their first Reaping.

It was technically still within the confines of Seven, so it was perfectly legal to be here, but neither was particularly eager to get caught.  

They shimmied their way up on separate sides of an impossibly tall giant sequoia with practiced ease; the general lack of knots or branches barely a passing thought to them- as was the way with most lumberjack kids in Seven.

“Only two more of these things to go. Then we’re home free.” Johanna sighed as she stretched out on one of the branches, some fifty feet off the ground, “Can’t wait.”

“Same,” said her friend, hauling their way onto a branch just below hers and leaning back on the trunk as they sat, “The Games are so stupid.”

“Cheers to that,” Johanna said, pulling the bottle out of her bag, “Aw. Just red wine? Couldn’t have gotten something a bit stronger?”

“We’re higher than the Justice Building, Jo. I think wine is strong enough,” her friend cautioned, and then, after a pause, added, “Gotta make sure my dad still has one son left in the morning.”

“I guess,” Johanna grumbled, and started stabbing at the cork with the switchblade she carried everywhere. She managed to get it hooked in somehow and started to pull. And then stopped.

She glanced down at her friend.

“Son?”

She watched as he picked at a loose thread on his trousers for a moment.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

“Cool,” Johanna shrugged, and finally popped the cork from the wine bottle, and with a triumphant laugh, exclaimed, “There we go!”

She took a massive swig, and gagged on it. Too much at once, and it just wasn’t very good. Bitter. But… not in a nice way. She managed to choke down the wine, and then spluttered out, “That tastes like shit!”

Her friend laughed, and he pulled himself up onto the same branch as her, “Sure does.” He paused. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

Johanna took another sip of the wine, and let it sit in her mouth for a bit, attempting to get used to it. She swallowed. It wasn’t any better the second time around. In fact, it might have even been worse.

“Like what?” she asked, dramatically wiping her tongue on her sleeve in a poor attempt to rid herself of the bitter taste, “Oh. You got a different name? Is it just as stupid as-”

“It’s Marsh,” he replied, and swiped the bottle right from her hands.

“So that’s a yes.” Johanna smirked, and watched as his face scrunched up as he took a sip of the wine, too.

Marsh cringed, and bent his head all the way down into his chest at the taste, “That is foul.”

She whacked his arm and took the bottle back for herself. He reached over to snatch it, but she held it as far away from him as she could, and even with his absurdly long arms, Marsh was unable to reach it.

“Bitch, I brought it!” he whined, and Johanna used her free hand to push him back, “Joeeeee…”

“Aw, okay…” she snorted, and passed it back to him unceremoniously, “Baby Marshy needs his bottle.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he said as he took it from her and knocked back a swig. And then coughed. A lot, “Ugh.”

“It’s bad.” Johanna laughed, “Can’t believe adults big this stuff up so much.”

“I can’t believe this shit tastes worse than tesserae mush.” Marsh shoved the bottle back at her, “And don’t say nothing about my name being stupid. That is the point.”

“What?” She stared at him, on the verge of laughing again, “Why?!”

He shrugged.

She took another swig of the wine.

“Did your dad make this or something?” she asked, “He’s hardly a great chef. Maybe that’s why it’s so bad.”

“Nah, he bought it. I think it’s generally just… not good. I don’t even think he likes it. It’s just cheaper than hard cider for some fuckin’ reason.”

“Considering we’re the fuckers who grew the apples and make the cider, I’d have thought it’d be cheaper for us. Then again…” Johanna scowled, “Timber’s at a bit of a premium again.”

“So’s firewood. It’s a pain in the ass.” Marsh grumbled, knocking back another gulp of wine miserably, “It’s gonna be so cold when winter rolls around.”

Johanna threw her head back dramatically, “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Lizzie gets so anxious when it’s cold. And then I get anxious by proxy.”

“To be fair… you did break your leg in sixth grade when you slipped on some ice.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Johanna’s mood soured, and she frowned at her reflection on the bottle, when Marsh passed it back, “My parents were shitting themselves when I went to my first Reaping with a limp and six slips.”

Marsh glanced over at her, guilt creasing his eyebrows together. “Sorry.”

“S’ok.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, looking out at the darkening woods. Watching as the occasional bird or squirrel or chipmunk scuttled on by in the branches near them. They passed the wine back and forth, both grumbling wordlessly about the taste after every sip, until their minds grew foggy with both tiredness and alcohol.

Johanna was the first to spot the flash of white in the trees, and soon spotted more and more. She nudged Marsh and nodded to the flock of gathering birds. She wondered if they knew; if they knew what day had just passed and what they were about to do.

She was never the first to start, though. A slight stage-fright that she’d carried her whole life.

Marsh’s warm alto voice bled into the night, as tuneful and as sad and alone as ever.

“Come all ye true born shanty-boys, whoe’er ye may be,

Come sit upon the deacon’s seat and listen unto me,

A story’f a young shanty-boy, so tall, genteel and brave,

‘Twas on a jam on Gerry’s rocks he met a wat’ry grave.”

They could pretend all they wanted; they could act as nonchalant as possible; they could drown their sorrows in booze and convince themselves that they were adult enough to deserve to be so tired. But both were just as petrified of the Reaping, and the Games as any other child in Seven. As any other child in Panem. And not just of the Reaping; of the Games, but of the dangers that lurked around every corner in Seven. Both had recently picked up some hours over the weekend at a logging facility. And already had seen and obtained more than their fair share of injuries.

The guard staff- the Peacekeepers- who followed them out and shadowed them in the forest at work- didn’t particularly care about any sprains or broken bones- or even deaths- as long as the work was done. Johanna had- just last week- seen a man be stuck under a felled trunk that slammed him to the floor. She hadn’t been strong enough to move it on her own, though she’d tried desperately. He’d passed out by the time someone else from the team had showed up and managed to help her move it.

He'd never walk again.

“It happened on a Sunday morn as you shall quickly hear.

Our logs were piled up mountain high, there being no one to keep them clear.

Our boss he cried, "Turn out, brave boys. Your hearts are void of fear.

We'll break that jam on Gerry's Rocks, and for the Capitol we'll steer."

Johanna joined Marsh then, their untrained voices wove roughly together as they sang. And soon the mockingjays picked up the song, too. Echoing the haunting, sorrowful melody around the woodland; it would surely reach all the way back to the town.

It wasn’t a cheerful song. But it hadn’t been a cheerful day, so what did it matter?

Death clung to district Seven like a burr, sharp and pinching, and impossible to avoid. The Reaping was a spectacle as much as it was a death sentence, an oddity to the quiet, unnoticed deaths that happened every other day.

Not that the kids who got shipped off to the Capitol were remembered any better than the poor sods who’d get sick, or crushed by felled trees, or torn to bits in the factories, or shot or some other shitty way to kick the bucket. It was hardly a wonder that over eighty percent of Seven’s population was under forty years old.

Johanna wondered if she’d make it that long. Or If Marsh would. Or her little sister.

And then she drowned that thought in another swig of the disgusting wine.

Better not to think about it.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 2) Chapter Twelve

Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twelve: Trouble with Spies

Summary: Tribbles and infestations in the quadrotriticale are not the issues (Y/N) wants to deal with. Spies are a little more interesting.

            Spock and (Y/N) walked back onto the Bridge, expecting to have to deal with how to smooth over the incident with the Klingons; instead, though, they found a room filled with tribbles. On the consoles, on the seats, on the bannisters, the trilling creatures were everywhere.

            “Wow. Uhura, how has your tribble managed to multiply this much?” asked (Y/N), picking up several tribbles and depositing to the side of their console.

            “I have no idea,” sighed Uhura. “I got one. At least they’re cute.” She happily petted the one sitting with her.

            “Troublesome, though,” said Spock as he removed the tribbles from his station.

            “Dr. McCoy, how did these get on the Bridge?” asked Kirk. “You were looking over them in Sickbay.

            Bones shrugged. “It’s the tribbles that keep multiplying. We can’t stop it. Or, at least, we haven’t figured out a way. But if we don’t get them off this ship, we’re going to be hip deep in them.”

            “Would you explain that?” asked Kirk.

            “Well, the nearest thing I can figure out is that they’re born pregnant,” said Bones. “Which seems to be quite a time saver.” He chuckled. “And from my observations, it seems they’re bisexual, reproducing with whatever tribbles are around them at will. And boy do they got a lot of will.”

            “Captain, I am forced to agree with the Doctor,” said Spock. “I’ve been running computations on their rate of reproduction. The figures are taking an alarming direction. They are consuming our surprise and returning nothing.”

            “Oh, but they do give us something, Mr. Spock,” said Uhura vehemently. “They give us love. Well, Cyrano Jones says that a tribble is the only love money can buy.”

            “Uhura, even I like the emotions the tribbles create in us, but they’re interrupting our work and disrupting our life,” said (Y/N). “We need to figure out a way to remove them from the ship.”

            Uhura sighed, knowing they were right. “I know.”

            “Get the maintenance crew to clean up the entire ship,” said Kirk. “And then contact Mr. Lurry and tell him I’m beaming down.”

            “Aye, aye, sir,” said Uhura.

            “Have him find Cyrano Jones and hold him,” ordered Kirk. He sighed. “And get these tribbles off the bridge. (L/N), Spock, with me.”

l

            “Captain Kirk, I’m mystified at your tone of voice,” said Jones incredulously. His friendly tone was belied by the nerves of his emotions. “I’ve done nothing to warrant such severe treatment.”

            “Oh, really?” said Kirk.

            “Press him, he’s nervous,” murmured (Y/N) to Spock.

            He listened to them. “Surely you must have realized what would happen if you removed the tribbles from their predator-filled environment into an environment where their natural multiplicative proclivities would have no restraining factors.”

            “Well, of course…What did you say?” Jones was thoroughly confused.

            All the better for Spock to press him further. “By removing the tribbles from their natural habitat, you have, so to speak, removed the cork from the bottle and allowed the genie to escape,” he said.

            “Well, if by that you mean do they breed quickly, well, of course!” Jones chuckled. “That’s how I maintain my stock. But breeding animals isn’t against regulations, only breeding dangerous ones. And tribbles are not dangerous.”

            “Just incredibly prolific,” remarked Kirk dryly.

            “Precisely, and at six credits a head—eh, well, that is, body—it mounts up,” said Jones happily. He stood hurriedly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

            Kirk stopped him. “You ought to sell an instruction manual with those things.”

            “If I did, what would happen to man’s search for knowledge?” asked Jones. “Well, I must be tending to my ship. Au revoir.” He left before they could say another word.

            As he left, Baris and Darvin walked into the meeting room.

            “Go ahead, sir, tell him,” said Darvin.

            “Captain Kirk, I consider your security measures a disgrace!” declared Baris. “In my opinion, you have taken this entire very important project far too lightly!”

            “On the contrary, sir, I think of this project as very important,” said Kirk. “It is you I take lightly.”

            “I am going to report fully, to the proper authorities, that you have given free and complete access to this station to a man who is quite probably a Klingon agent!” cried Baris.

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “That is a very serious charge.”

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “A Klingon agent? Who?”

            “The man who just walked out of here!” said Baris.

            (Y/N) deadpanned. “Cyrano Jones—a Klingon agent?”

            “You heard me,” said Baris.

            “They did. They simply could not believe their ears,” said Spock.

            “What evidence do you have that Jones is a Klingon agent?” asked (Y/N).

            Baris’s smug emotions were overpowering as he continued. “My assistant here has kept Mr. Jones under close surveillance for quite some time, and his actions have been most suspicious,” said Baris in satisfaction. “I believe he was involved in that little altercation between your men.”

            “Anything else?” That is flimsy. The most involved Jones was was drinking at the bar while we had our “altercation.”

            “Well, Lieutenant, I checked his ship’s log, and it seems he was within the Klingon sphere of influence less than four months ago,” said Darvin.

            (Y/N) cocked their head. Even Baris’s assistant had such negative and fervent emotions that they cringed.

            “The man is an independent scout. It’s quite possible that he is also a Klingon spy!” cried Baris.

            “Spock, what do you think?” remarked (Y/N).

            “We have already checked on the background of Mr. Cyrano Jones. He is a licensed asteroid locator and prospector. He’s never broken the law, at least not severely, and for the past seven years, with his one-man spaceship, he has obtained a marginal living by engaging in the buying and selling of rare merchandise,” said Spock. He sighed slightly. “Including, unfortunately, tribbles.”

            “But he is after my grain!” cried Baris.

            “Do you have any proof of that?” sighed Kirk.

            “You can’t deny he’s disrupted this station,” said Darvin angrily. His emotions were a bundle of nerves and anger. The nerves were unusual, but the anger was as strong as Baris’s.

            “People have disrupted stations before without being Klingon agents,” said Kirk. “Sometimes all they need is a title, Mr. Baris. Unfortunately, disrupting a space station is not an offense. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to tend to. Au revoir.”

l

            Aboard the Enterprise, tribbles had taken over the entire ship. They were in every meeting room, everyone’s quarters, and even the cafeterias and food dispensers.

            “It’s even in my tea,” sighed (Y/N), putting down their cup sadly.

            “Fascinating,” murmured Spock as his food came out covered in tribbles.

            “They spread through the ship so quickly,” observed (Y/N). “It’s not just their multiplication that’s impressive, it’s their ability to spread, too.”

            Spock nodded. “Most likely, they found their way into an air vent.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Like the air vents that go to the space station?”

            Spock furrowed his brow worriedly. “And the storage compartments.”

            “Oh, no. The quadrotriticale,” realized (Y/N). “We have to tell the Captain.”

            Spock nodded, and in sync, they put down their food and drinks and quickly left to get Kirk and return to the space station. Disaster may have struck the precious grain.

l

            “What’s wrong?” asked Baris as he and Lurry met Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N).

            “Plenty, if what we think has happened has happened,” said Kirk grimly.

            He led the way to the quadrotriticale storage containers where two guards stood watch.

            “Guard, is that door secure?” asked Kirk.

            “Yes, sir, nothing could get in,” said the guard.

            “Good. Uh, open it,” said Kirk.

            The guard pressed in the code and tried to open the door, but it didn’t budge. “It’s not working, sir. It seems to be stuck.”

            (Y/N) sucked in a breath. That wasn’t a good sign.

            “Here, let me try,” said Kirk. Still, the door didn’t budge.

            (Y/N) stepped up and pulled at the trapdoor of the container. They successfully slid it open, and as they did, hundreds, no, thousands or tribbles tumbled out down and around in a fluffy avalanche. Kirk was buried in them, but Spock reached out and pulled (Y/N) out of the torrent of the tribbles. They stumbled back into him, and his hands rested on their arms to steady them as their back pressed against his front. It was an intimate position for “colleagues,” but (Y/N) and Spock didn’t mind since their hearts felt more than just friendship for one another.

            Finally, Kirk freed himself from the pile of tribbles. Spock removed himself from (Y/N)’s side as business returned to normal, and he picked up a tribble.

            “They seem to be gorged,” he observed.

            “Gorged?! On my grain?!” cried Baris. “Kirk, I am going to hold you responsible! There must be thousands.”

            “Hundreds of thousands,” agreed (Y/N).

            “1,771,561. That’s assuming one tribble, multiplying with an average litter of ten, producing a new generation every twelve hours over a period of three days,” said Spock logically.

            “And that’s assuming they got here three days ago,” sighed Kirk.

            “And allowing for the amount of grain consumed and the volume of the storage compartment,” added Spock.

            “Kirk, you should’ve known!” cried Baris. “You are responsible for turning the development project into a total disaster. And I am through being intimidated, Kirk!”

            (Y/N) sighed as his stupid anger burned. It was growing irritating.

            “Now, you have insulted me. You have ignored me. You-you’ve walked all over me,” declared Baris. “You have abused your authority, and you have rejected my requests. And this, this is the result. I am going to hold you responsible, Kirk.”

            “Mr. Baris, I’ll hold you in irons if you don’t shut up,” said Kirk, clearly over the situation and Baris’s dramatics.

            “Jim!” said the (strangely) cheerful voice of Bones as he walked into the room. “I think I’ve got it. All we have to do is quit feeding them! We quit feeding them; they stop breeding.”

            I feel like I’ve entered a farce, thought (Y/N).

            Kirk sighed. “Now he tells me.”

            “Captain, this tribble is dead,” said Spock, frowning.

            (Y/N) examined a few others. “So are these.”

            Bones scanned the mountain of tribbles. “A lot of them are dead. A lot of them are alive, but they won’t be for long.”

            I think I’d feel sadder if they’re not already repopulating on our ship, thought (Y/N).

            “A logical assumption is that there is something in the grain,” said Spock.

            “Yes. Bones, I want the tribbles, the grain, everything analyzed,” said Kirk. “I want to know what killed these tribbles.”

            “I haven’t figured out what keeps them alive yet,” said Bones. Another tribble fell from the open hatch onto Kirk’s head, and Kirk deadpanned. Bones held up his hands. “Alright, if I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

            “That isn’t going to do you any good, Kirk,” said Baris. “This project is ruined, and Starfleet is going to heart about it, and when they do, they will have a Board of Inquiry, and they will roast you alive. And I am going to be there, Kirk, to enjoy every moment of it.”

            “Until that Board of Inquiry, I’m still the Captain, and as Captain, I want two things done. First, find Cyrano Jones, and second, close that door.” Poor Kirk was still getting hit by tribbles periodically falling from the container.

l

            “Really, Captain Kirk, I must protest this treatment,” cried Jones as guards pushed him and his handful of tribbles into Lurry’s office.

            “Ah, Mr. Jones, and an armful,” said Kirk. “A couple questions—”

            “Captain Kirk!” said Koloth, storming into the office.

            (Y/N) scowled as Kolax followed him in. Not only were the Klingons’ emotions a negative cloud, but (Y/N) didn’t want to see Kolax after his insults. Spock’s eyes narrowed as he saw Kolax, and he stepped up beside (Y/N). If Kolax tried to approach them, he’d have to deal with a tall, imposing, strong Vulcan prepared to protect his Celian.

            “Yes, what do you want?” asked Kirk, keeping his tone polite but starting to lose it as the situation got more and more difficult to handle.

            “An official apology, addressed to the Klingon High Command. I expect you to assume full responsibility for the persecution of Klingon nationals in this quadrant,” declared Koloth.

            “An apology?” repeated Kirk incredulously.

            “Yes. You’ve harassed my men,” said Koloth. “You’ve treated them like criminals. You’ve been most uncourteous, Captain Kirk.”

            “Uncourteous?” Spock raised an eyebrow, drawing attention to himself. “I believe it was first your own First Officer to insult one of our officers.” Spock glanced at (Y/N), and everyone understood what he meant.

            Kolax knew Vulcans avoided conflict, but he had the distinct impression that he should stay silent as Spock’s level gaze fell onto him. There was something warning in his eyes, and Kolax wasn’t going to mess with it.

            (Y/N), on the other hand, felt perfectly safe beside Spock. In fact, they turned a little pink as Spock defended them in his logical, Vulcan way.

            Koloth coughed slightly as Spock caught the Klingons’ lie. “Well, that may be, but if you don’t want a diplomatic incident, you’ll still—”

            “No, Kirk, you can’t let him!” cried Baris, joining the conversation. “That will give them the wedge they need to claim Sherman’s Planet.”

            “I believe that more than the word of an aggrieved Klingon commander would be necessary for that, Mr. Baris,” said Spock coolly.

            Koloth was determined to win his battle, though. “Mr. Spock, as far as Sherman’s Planet is concerned, Captain Kirk has given it to us already.”

            (Y/N) cocked their head. Happiness had entered Koloth’s emotions, which made sense if he believed Sherman’s Planet would be the Klingon’s, but alongside it was a dull happiness associate with satisfaction. They had a suspicion the Klingons were up to something. Obviously, the insults had been planned in order to create a conflict that was “started” by Starfleet, but there was something else going on. After all, something was wrong with the grain.

            (Y/N) looked at Kirk and nodded. Their observations matched with the theories Spock had come up with.

            “Well, we’ll see about that,” said Kirk, responding to Koloth. “But before I take any official action, I’d like to know just what happened. Who put the tribbles in the quadrotriticale, and what was in the grain that killed them?”

            “Captain Kirk, before you go on, may I make a request?” asked Koloth.

            Kirk sighed. “Yes?”

            “Can you get those things out of here?” Koloth gestured distastefully at the tribbles in Jones’s arms.

            Kirk waved a hand, and the guards picked up the tribbles. As they went to the door, it slid open, and Darvin and Bones appeared. The tribbles screeched as they grew close to Darvin.

            (Y/N) cocked their head. “Remarkable,” said Spock.

            “Hold on a minute,” said Kirk. He glanced at Jones. “I thought you said tribbles liked everyone.”

            “Well, they do,” said Jones. “I can’t understand it. The last time I saw them act this way was—

            “—at the bar. With the Klingons,” realized (Y/N). They walked over to the guards and picked up a tribble. Bringing it near to Kolax and Koloth, (Y/N) saw the tribble screech and try to get away. “Tribbles don’t like Klingons.” They pushed the tribble a bit closer, and they smirked as Kolax jerked back. Next, (Y/N) brought it to Spock. The tribble didn’t react. “They like Vulcans, though.” (Y/N) grinned at Spock.

            “Obviously, tribbles are very perceptive creatures,” said Spock.

            “Obviously,” teased (Y/N). They took it to Baris. “They like you, too. I guess their taste is somewhat questionable.” Finally, (Y/N) brought it to Darvin. The tribble screeched vehemently. They cocked their head. “But they don’t like you, Darvin. Why is that?” They noticed the obvious nerves coating his emotions. He was full of anxiety.

            Kirk nodded to Bones. “Check him.”

            Bones took his tricorder and scanned Darvin. “Heartbeat is all wrong. His body temperature is…” Bones’s eyes widened. “Jim, this man is a Klingon.”

            Spock automatically stepped up beside (Y/N) in case Darvin tried anything.

            “A Klingon?!” cried Baris.

            “I wonder what Starfleet Command will say about that,” remarked Kirk coolly to Baris, making an obvious point. “What about the grain, Bones?”

            “Oh, yes, it was poisoned,” said Bones.

            “Poisoned?!” cried Baris.

            “Yes, there was an implanted a virus,” said Bones. “The virus turns into an inert material in the bloodstream. And the more an organism eats, the more inert matter is built up, so after two or three days, it would reach a point of where they couldn’t take in enough nourishment to survive. The tribbles starved to death.”

            “In a storage compartment full of grain, they starved to death,” said Kirk.

            “That is essentially it,” said Bones.

            (Y/N) held the tribble out towards Darvin again. Darvin jerked back as it screeched angrily. “Mr. Darvin, have anything to say?”

            “No,” said Darvin, but his anxiety couldn’t be hidden from (Y/N). They held the tribble closer, and Darvin flinched. “Alright! I poisoned the grain! Take them away.”

            “And the tribbles had nothing to do with it?” asked (Y/N).

            “I don’t know—I never saw one before in my life, and I hope I never see one of those fuzzy, miserable things again,” said Darvin.

            “I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Spock, protectively staying beside (Y/N) as Darvin stared daggers at the tribble and them.

            “Guards,” ordered Kirk. “Take him.” Darvin was unhappily escorted out to a waiting holding cell.

            Baris coughed uncomfortably. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain.” He made an exit before Kirk could point out that Starfleet wouldn’t care about Kirk’s “unhelpfulness” in comparison to Baris employing a Klingon spy.

            Kirk turned to Koloth. “Now, Captain Koloth, about that apology…”

            “Yes?” challenged Koloth.

            “You have six hours to get your ship out of Federation territory,” said Kirk curtly.

            Koloth, knowing he couldn’t fight since he was undoubtedly connected to Darvin, made a hasty exit with Kolax. (Y/N) smirked at his scared expression.

            “That was satisfying,” they said to Spock.

            Spock quirked an eyebrow in an expression of amusement. “Yes. I imagine it was.” It was for him as well. Spock enjoyed seeing the man who had insulted (Y/N) so nervous and fearful. It was very satisfying.

l

            “Captain, Starfleet was able to divert that freighter,” said Spock as Kirk walked into the Bridge.

            “Good. That means Sherman’s Planet will get its quadrotriticale only a few weeks late,” said Kirk. He glanced around hesitantly. He saw no tribbles and frowned. “I don’t see any tribbles around here.”

            “And you won’t find a tribble on this entire ship, Jim,” said Bones proudly.

            “Bones, how’d you do that?” asked Kirk.

            Bones coughed. “Well, I cannot take credit for another man’s work. Scotty did it.”

            “Scotty! Where are the tribbles?” asked Kirk.

            Scotty blinked uncomfortably. “Oh, uh, Captain, it was really Mx. (L/N)’s recommendation.”

            “Of course. (L/N)?” asked Kirk.

            (Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “Well, Spock did the actual calculations.”

            “Mr. Spock?” asked Kirk, raising an eyebrow.

            Spock cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “Based on computer analysis, of course, taking into account the possibilities of—”

            “Gentlemen, I don’t want to interrupt this mutual admiration society, but I’d like to know where the tribbles are,” said Kirk.

            “Tell him, Spock,” said Bones.

            Spock avoided the question. “Well, it was Mr. Scott who performed the actual engineering.”

            Kirk heaved a sigh. “Mr. Scott. Where are the tribbles?”

            Scotty cleared his throat. “I used the transporter, Captain.”

            “You used the transporter?” Kirk furrowed his brow in confusion.

            “Aye,” replied Scotty.

            “Well, where did you transport them?” questioned Kirk. Everyone avoided his gaze. “Scotty, you didn’t transport them into space, did you?”

            “Captain Kirk, that’d be inhuman,” said Scotty, aghast.

            “Well, where are they?” asked Kirk.

            “I gave them a good home, sir,” said Scotty.

            “Where?” demanded Kirk.

            “I gave them to the Klingons, sir,” said Scotty.

            Kirk’s eyes widened. “You have them to the Klingons?”

            “Aye, sir. Before they went into warp, I transported the whole kit and caboodle into their engine room,” said Scotty, clearly pleased with himself.

            “Where they’ll be no ‘tribble’ at all,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            Kirk smothered a laugh and failed. He, Bones, and Scotty chuckled at (Y/N)’s pun while they just grinned. Spock even raised an eyebrow in amusement. (Y/N) was happy, and that was what mattered.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

[queenshelby]

I have no idea about Dublin and the suburbs lol. Is Monkstown supposed to be posh for the wealthy? Crazy expensive? Pls Queen and other people out there who might live in Ireland, do enlighten me 😝😝

Nah it’s expensive but laid back. It’s a nice beachy area, but I wouldn’t say it’s overly posh. There are posher areas. It’s expensive because it’s close enough to the CBD although traffic is horrendous so I would catch the Dart and it’s got a nice beachside. There is lots to do. Cool cafes. You can get onto the highway from there easily too going south to Kerry and Cork, it’s just a good location hence the price tag. Even though, personally, we inherited a property nearby and lived there for a few years to save for renovations, I would hate living in the city now. We moved out of the city because we had to at the time but then we really liked it. So we bought something smaller around where we were when we moved, but something that’s more affordable because it’s such a cool area. Prices in Dublin are insane everywhere now though but I would confidently say that the house Cillian bought for like, what, 1.7m euro, is probably worth 5m now quite easily but that’s just inflation not because everyone who lives in that area has a lot of $$$. My wife’s grandpa sat on his house in that area for 40 odd years and paid bugger all. There is a lot of old generations still there or your avarage working people who inherited these houses. So no, it’s not an area known to be posh, albeit expensive now. Hope that makes sense.

[torchickentacos]

Fall Out Boy concert experience!

WOO ok wanted to type this out so, one, I don't forget it all bc concert amnesia hits me hard, but two, in case anyone just wants to hear about it!!! @alonetogethermp3 I know you'll wanna hear about it! LONG POST. I warned you all.

SO! This is a venue specific thing, but parking? BAD. They have the parking dudes whose job it is to point and yell. They were not pointing OR yelling and just kinda stood there. It was way worse getting out than in but I also got there early for openers. Also venue specific, but it wasn't that accessible. I knew that going into this, though- I had been there to see P!ATD before they sucked and also I graduated there, so I was aware of this issue. Luckily it isn't that bad with a cane, and I could struggle through the stairs and lines, but god forbid I had used my walker.

I wasn't too impressed by any of the merch designs but that's also entirely personal taste, and the good stuff might have just been sold out.

But we got in alright and found a shady space for lawn seats near the back in case I had a medical issue (chronic illness in direct sun, not something you wanna be stuck in the pit for). I will say- edibles? Great from what I've heard. Bring those. Don't be that person vaping and smoking whatever the fuck at a concert. Breathing is a thing people around you tend to enjoy. Don't be that guy.

The openers were CARR (heard about 2 songs, fun and fine, kind of giving Pom Pom Squad or Gracie Abrams gone rock and slight shoegaze and recording in someone's basement /positive), Royal & the Serpent (very good, almost definitely has Bikini Kill or Hole as their inspiration, played a competent nirvana cover that I wasn't at all mad at), and Bring Me The Horizon (way better than I was expecting except for the part where he asked if we were ready to be fucked in the ass with my mom sitting next to me). He also kept telling us to get up and jump. (My friend and I started a drinking game where I took a shot of liquid iv hydration multiplier every time an opener told me to jump, something I was entirely unable to do bc POTS lmfao). They did have actual drinks everywhere- it was more alcohol than anything else, actually. My friend did get something alcoholic but apparently it kinda sucked and I wasn't missing out. I will say, this WAS somewhere that you'd have to watch your drink, though. I didn't get catcalled or anything (this time) but I did feel the need to be on alert and I'd advise others to do the same at any concert, honestly, but especially one as packed as this one was.

I spent a lot of the opener time laying down in the grass because of the heat, but it did cool down nicely and most non-chronically ill people seemed to be fine with the heat. Also, I think it was Pete Wentz around the opening who told the crowd that if they saw anyone struggling with the heat or crowds or anything at all to let security know, and I loved that they seemed to be very conscientious of crowd safety (but it didn't get that wild honestly, pretty chill crowd but not to the point of being a dead crowd. Good in-between).

By the time FOB took the stage, it was sunset- really pretty, no pictures of that though bc phone storage and I was too busy talking to my friend.

The stage was really good- I ADORED that it was seemingly modeled after the album cover of From Under The Cork Tree. Here, have the world's blurriest picture of it below. The circle would show an 8-ball every so often, and it had a spinning globe for Hold Me Like A Grudge ("the world is always spinning and I can't keep up" lyric reference I imagine)! It had a ton of fun details like that that seemed to correlate to the songs. I also noticed a lot of clock motifs and ticking time, which... if I had a nickel each time a major 2023 concert tour had a clock motif (eras tour too, which I am not going to because I don't feel like fist-fighting a shady facebook marketplace reseller for a ticket), 2 nickels, etc. Also kinda funny bc they released a song together recently but I'm getting way off topic.

The sound quality was AMAZING, and while my pictures all suck, I could see a decent amount even when laying down and tired (though I had to peer through the sea of asses and vape/weed smoke). They had a few big screens that seemed pretty well-focused on Patrick and Pete (but also Joe sometimes). They weren't the most talkative but when they did, it felt so genuine and endearing- a bit awkward, but it really did feel like they wanted us to feel like they were talking to US and not just to a crowd. Patrick and Pete were so nice and just... real-feeling. I couldn't catch a lot of what they said, though- a bit mumbly. Pete was wearing a rose themed mesh shirt and a skirt, I'm pretty sure, which I loved. FOB, MCR, I love whatever the fuck popular former emo bands are doing with gender nonconformity these days. Keep that up.

Now. The songs. Bit of personal lore here, but I went with a friend I've known since like 2012/13, and we had been to this venue together around 2015?? for a show. Because of that, I was SO FUCKING EMOTIONAL when they played Bang the Doldrums. I know that thematically the entire thing doesn't quite fit, nor would I quite want it to, but I found a certain irony and amusement in singing some of the lyrics with my friend next to me.

AND OH MY G O S H. THE ACOUSTIC 'NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER'. I was fucking blessed. My favorite album/EP of theirs is probably My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to my Tongue, which is an acoustic EP, and so they played that song in the version I adored most. Though, I can't in good faith choose a single favorite album/EP.

AND WINONA!!!!!!!!! WE GOT SHE'S MY WINONA. I could NOT have asked for a better setlist. I also love that they played a good amount from Take This To Your Grave (AND ENDED ON SATURDAY!!!). Hot take? Could have done with a bit more MANIA but I get why they didn't, but The Last of the Real Ones was a GOOD CHOICE (another one I had Big Emotions about). The only songs I would have loved that I didn't get were The (Shipped) Gold Standard and GINASFS, but I would have cried my damn makeup off so it's probably for the best that I didn't get to sing 'I wanna scream 'I love you' at the top of my lungs but I'm afraid that someone else will hear me' or 'trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns' or literally any other line of GINASFS. But if I get into that then y'all are gonna learn more about my emotional state than I care for lmfao. My blog is...not-irrelevant enough that I don't want to get too specific in case someone I know finds it, because while I don't know if my friends use tumblr, they're certainly the type (queer and neurodivergent lol, birds of a feather and all).

And THAT'S what makes the concert and FOB as a band special to me, though- it was a good show but it was a personal experience. I cannot separate the show from the emotions I went through for the company I was with that FOB's lyrics evoked. And if we were to crash and burn, then that also means that the memory of this concert will be forever stained by the things I felt now due to their inextricable nature. But that's the risk you take when you enjoy something because of someone's presence and associated emotions, and it's a risk I'll continue to take because there's no use living life held-back and scared of eventual regret. Enjoy the moment and everything you feel then and there.

It wasn't just a show that would be a replicable experience. Their lyrics and performance invoked those emotions in a really special way, and I was just FEELING the entire concert. Maybe I'm over-emotional or too sentimental or can't move on from an embarrassingly long and futile crush BUT I would not trade that for anything. It was an EXPERIENCE, not just good music, though it was that, too. And I think they delivered that in a very FOB-unique way that other bands might not have been able to.

It was just a very open vibe when they took the stage. They sang with earnest and genuine feeling and LOVE, and I think that spreads to the audience. Every show has a specific vibe. Live music feeds off of audience and band alike, and the energy was just vulnerable and wonderful at this concert, and you can tell they wanted to foster that experience.

Ultimately, emotional vulnerability is what FOB is built off of. Like their music or not, from even their first few albums, they had that deeper emotional touch to them. You could hear the spite, the yearning, the apathy or the jealousy in each line recorded. Their lyrics are founded on emotion as opposed to storytelling or even clarity (some songs, I have no idea what specifically they're on about but it makes me feel things anyways). And that rang true tonight as well, on stage and in the audience.

[khaotunq]

Do you have aye akk headcannons that you haven't shared with the group yet? Also who do you think would propose just because I dreamed about that and you talked about marriage in your tags. So I am completely innocent

I HAVE NEVER BEEN ASKED ABOUT HEADCANONS I'M GOING TO THROW MYSELF INTO A VOLCANO

honestly, i don't know that i've got anything special up in the old bargain bucket. i was writing something silly the other day for my own entertainment with eclipse on for background noise and it did sort of slip in that -- and this is as close to controversial as it gets, i know; hold onto yer butts -- i don't think akk's neat? as in tidy. he's organised, sure, but i think his tendency to be a messy bitch extends beyond his personality.

this is a very, very tiny thing okay but go with me on this.

Edit, four hours later: ...apparently it's not a tiny thing. I have had to put a read more because now I've added pictures. Apparently I really do have thoughts.

I think I think of this as a headcanon because a lot of fandom portrayal has Akk as this ruthlessly neat Type A and Ayan as cheerfully messy... but I'm about to insist that this is not, in fact, headcanon: it's canon. I brought receipts.

(I'm kidding but pls nobody bother telling me I'm wrong <3 respectfully, i won't believe u <3)

So over the course of the show we see both Akk and Ayan's bedrooms, right? Prior to the show even beginning, these are rooms they've presumably inhabited for quite some time. There is a whole thing we could get into about their respective economical backgrounds and what the set dressing decor says in regards to that, but I'm not gonna. Not today, at least.

Aside from that and the fact that I have a running joke in my head that Ayan lives in a hotel room in his own home (there's another tangent here about the parallel of ayan not having "roots"/a true home/a "space" but I am trying not to write a dissertation here) - they're teenage boys, right?

However,

FIGS 1.1-1.4: Ayan's bedroom.

Ayan's bedroom has nothing in it. Other than his dead uncle, some Alien urn lamps and a whole lotta beige (potential tangent number 590384: characters and their typical/home surrounding's colouring -- Ayan in golds and brown tones; Kan and Thua surrounded in white; Akk and a whole bunch of blues until he goes home and we see his blues meet Ayan's golds, etc etc -- which i'm sure someone's already done).

Now, it's possible that this is because he and Patcharaporn have someone who comes in to do housework, but even if that were the case, you'd still expect some sort of reflection of it being a teenage boy who inhabits that room... but there's nothing. Yes, I'm aware that this is The Thai BL House, but set dressing isn't something that would be outside the realm of possibility entirely. The most you ever see of Ayan in his room is when he's getting all Conspiracy Cork Board and there are just piles of dictionaries on his desk, or when he's sitting around reading dystopic speculative fiction. A single dystopic speculative fiction book. There are no others.

Come on, Aye.

I could write essays about Ayan Sukkhaphisit and loneliness. Essays.

But this is not that day.

FIGS 2.1-2.4: Akk's dorm room.

Ignoring the fact that there are obvious differences due to Akk's being a dorm and Ayan's being a single room in a house, Akk's room is by contrast overflowing with Akk. Akk has crafted his dorm to reflect himself.

Or rather, to reflect the image he wants to portray, but there are little pieces of him everywhere.

(I'm sure there's meaning in the spoon print, I just don't know what it is yet. The spoon canvas, truly more than anything in Akk's room, Sends. Me.)

There are books everywhere - light sources (tangent 4012432: all of Akk's light sources are caged in some way), knick-knacks that speak to a character with far more to him than he presents to the world, a calendar that never changes from September 3rd.

I think Akk is neat out of necessity, out of maintaining his image; I think Ayan is neat out of never having anywhere to really have stuff. I think, if canon were to progress, we'd see Akk relax even further into his space because it's the only place he can be careless and Ayan begin to be unafraid to actually take up some space.

(Tangent 6535423420: all of Ayan's personality is on him, at all times - the necklace, the hoody: his home is himself. In many ways, while Ayan is a cocky little shit, he's potentially the more deeply insecure.)

(Tangent and class discussion topic 22871342: is Ayan's room being borderline sterile a way of showing that Ayan himself is exactly how he appears to everyone - in that, he has nothing to hide? Compare with Akk's ruthless self control and dogmatic need to be perceived as perfect contrasting with how unsterile his home is.)

(Tangent 900122156: The first time we see Ayan begin to truly inhabit a space is when he and Akk are placing photos of him and his mother in Akk's room)

I'm not getting started on Akk's bedroom at his parents' house because 1. it's a boat cabin, and 2. I have to go eat something, lmao. But, for posterity, I guess:

FIGS 3.1-3.3: Akk's bedroom.

I leave it to you guys to note the multiple and varied light sources (there's still a caged light!), light streaming in from several billion windows, the storage/units brimming with things on or in them, the same dang blue mug from his dorm, the bathroom door wide open to show the mirror and thus adding more light.

(Tangent 123019242222...: Akk standing at the stern/wheel in his bedroom as the above interaction begins and what it means about his need for control while Ayan's mere presence lures him away)

(Additional thought added an hour after I posted this because it was in my head when I started answering this and then it disappeared and then I was brushing my teeth and it's back for some reason so: I think there's part of Akk that actively revels in mess/chaos. Something about him being so externally orderly, something about Ayan throwing his world into chaos and that being what draws him to Ayan, something something something, going to finish brushing my teeth.)

[peonyslumber]

Everybody wants to love you

S5|in-villa|Chapter 1|Suresh/Mc| 4,761 words

Author’s note: Story title idea from the song ‘Everybody wants to love you’ by the artist Japanese Breakfast. Chapter title idea from the song ‘More’ by the artist The Greeting Committee.

I decided to rewrite season 5 with my own fanfic. Check out: @kvngdomheartz and @luckyqueenreign. They’ve got good Suresh/Mc fics. Chapter 1 will be loosely based on volume I, including, both Episode 1 and 2. I do use some information from s5 like dialogue and some challenges, but it’ll be written completely by me otherwise. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - More

I took a deep breath before my heels clicked hard against the cobblestone. My hand was still on the car door frame before closing it. I looked up at the entrance to the villa.

This was where I was going to be staying. To find love, friendships, and of course, the 50k prize in the end. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

My thoughts were interrupted once an energetic girl came sweepingly in sight.

She waved to me, “Hello! I’m Dana.” She flashed a smile before linking her arm with mine to head into the villa.

My head turned to face her, “Hey, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Myrna.” Returning a smile back, “Is it only you here? Or where is everyone else?”

Dana whirled around, “This other girl Kat is getting the champagne bottle ready for us. She can’t find a cork opener, and she said it was vital.” She studied me before saying anything, “I need your advice on something.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, “I’m not sure if I’m well equipped in fashion.”

She grinned, “Me neither. I would ask Kat, but I know she isn’t the most unbiased person.”

I would rather know more about this Kat than help her with her wardrobe but saying that would be rude.

“She sounds like a piece of work.” I pursued my lip, “But I doubt she’s that bad. Maybe she just needs to warm up to us. I have some mates back at home who acted cold until we got closer.”

She twirled her hair, “I suppose you’re right. This is where we’ll sleep.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was standing in the villa’s bedroom. It looks even more vibrant than from watching it on television.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be sharing a bed with blokes we barely know.”

My palms begin to get clammy, “Oh, yeah! How could I have forgotten that!” I forced a smile.

Her eyes twinkled, “You’re nervous. Relax!” She squeezes my shoulders, “You can always tell them to go sleep on the daybeds. Your choice.”

We entered the dressing room. She started to dig into an orange bag, and clothes started flying everywhere until she reached the piece she wanted.

“Is it bad?” She raised her eyebrow. “I’ve been thinking about changing my style. I bought a new wardrobe for this.” She placed her head in her hand, “Who knows if it’ll be worth it.”

My feet stammered back.

People spent money on buying new clothes to be on this show? Now that I’m thinking about it… I probably should’ve invested more into it too.

Leaning against the wall, I peered over at her. The full bathing suit pressed against her chest. The bathing suit had a blue and yellow flower embroidered on it.

“You want my honest opinion?” I asked her, raising my eyebrow.

She nodded her head.

I sighed, “Your fashion sense seems to be stuck in the 2000s, babes.

Her hand massaged her temple, “That was what I was afraid of. I thought that it would be better to switch it up a bit to remind myself nothing is permanent.”

She bit her lip. Putting back her swimsuit before turning back to me, “You’re lucky it’s summer because you’re sweating so much that it’s becoming humid in here.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Jeez! Thanks, Dana.”

Before I could leave the room, and escape from who seemed like the only person here. A head popped into the room.

I jumped back, cupping my body from being caught off guard, “Girl, I thought you were a human Shih Tzu.” Shaking my head.

A shriek came from her mouth, and she stared at the ground, her mouth agape.

“Close your mouth, Kat. Before flies can lay their bodies in your gigantic mouth. It’ll be like a palace for them.” Dana playfully bumped her shoulder into mine.

Kat properly regained her composure, her heels clicked against the floor with each step she took entering the room, she poked Dana. “Not funny!” Lifting her finger, “I’ll have you all know that my hair is liked by many.”

Dana looked over at me before returning her gaze to Kat, “Yeah, who? Bartholomew?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Wait!” Followed by gasping, “How did you know about him? And his name is Bartholomew A. Bittlebun, JR.” She rolled her eyes.

I folded my arms, “Isn’t that from that one girl who starred in that handsome actor Rafi’s movie?” Tapping my chin, waiting for Kat’s response.

Kat furrowed her brows, “Hmm… yes! She only got like fifteen seconds in screen time...”

While Kat talked I worked on fixing up my mascara and lipstick. I sprayed some of my hairspray in my hair before turning back to Kat and Dana.

She reached for Dana and my wrists, “But that’s not why I came here. We need to not waste the bubbles they have!”

Interrupted immediately by a ping has us standing in the bedroom waiting.

“Girls! I got a text.” She yelled then quickly began to read it out for us.

Hope you girls are settling in nicely because we have a surprise for one of you. A burnt-out match that came to be reignited. #HereComeTheBoys #FirstCoupling

Our eyes landed on each other.

“What could that mean?” I asked them while playing with my hair.

Kat shrugged, “Why don’t we go see for ourselves?” She signaled us to follow her.

We were walking too slow, “Can you babes hurry up?” She linked our hands together.

We could see the view from the living room, but before we were out on the lawn, she released my hand.

“You made my hands all moist.” Kat hissed, glaring at me.

“And we all know there’s only one time when that’s acceptable.” Dana chuckled.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon when I hump one of these guys like a large hunk of log.” Biting her lip, smirking.

“I could see you being a tree hugger.” I clicked my tongue, nodding my head.

“Shouldn’t we establish a few things first before going out there?” Dana said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Kat shook her head, “The only thing to remember is to stay out of my way. I don’t care much about cats, but I’m willing to claw you lot if you steal my man.”

Dana snarled, “They’re not yours to claim, Kat.”

Kat shrugged her shoulders, “Let’s see about that.” She gathered herself, turning back at us, winking before walking out first.

She strutted her stuff, running her hands through the loose sides of her hair.

She stopped in front of a preppy blonde hair boy.

Her hands swayed their way to her hips, “Hey, blondie, do you like what you see? Could I possibly be a bit of you?” She pouted her lips.

He stuttered, rubbing his nape, and left blushing.

She rolled her eyes, “Never mind! I like men who go after what they want, and it’s clear you’re not my kind of guy.”

He objected, “Not at all! I mean, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, and I’d care to take you out on a picnic date.”

Her head snapped in our direction, and her eyes enlarged.

“Well, that’s just factual. I’m like Madonna before Madonna. You look far too clean. I’m into bad boys, but my nan wants me to find someone like you. I can’t see why, like, what’s wrong with my taste? I have great taste...”

Dana looks over at me, “Hey! There’s no reason why we should be letting her have the spotlight. Let’s make an entrance.”

I straightened myself before walking out there with Dana.

“Oi! When can we get a piece of the action?” She yelled out.

A hunky man with trousers came jogging up to us. “My bad loves. The name is Alfie, I’m the kind of guy you call to get your wooden floors installed while pretty boy Eddie over here is the one you call to find out what’s the best product to make those hands smooth.” He raised Eddie’s hands for us to see.

We peered over and admired his soft hands.

“See what I’m talking about?” He laughed before being playfully knuckled in the shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not just a pretty face, you know.” Eddie rolled his eyes, “People just don’t look beyond my face, right? To see what’s inside my heart? I have so much more to provide, like love, attention…”

Kat interrupted him before he could finish, “Pipe it, Eddie! I need to know the cream asap.” She turned to us, “I’ve never wanted a pair of hands to brush against my cheek as much as I do now.”

Dana giggled before heading to the kitchen. While Kat and Eddie went over to the pool to talk about his secret to modeling hands.

I flashed Alfie a smile, “So what do you do? Are you a construction worker?” I tilted my head.

He chuckled, “No. No. I’m a carpenter. I work exclusively with wood. What about you?”

I let my hands drop to my side, “I’m an office worker. My job is to sell and present services and products.”

“Ah! A sales representative. I’ve met a few while working the job. They’ve always seemed to be pushy.” He looked down, then up, “Not that I’m insinuating that you’re pushy!”

I bit my lip, “It’s alright. I have to be persistent. One of the things I strictly put away when I’m not working.” I messed with my bracelet, “What brings someone as good-looking as you on Love Island?”

He turned his head, “I want to meet someone that I can see myself growing old with. I haven’t found much luck on the outside, so I’m hoping that’ll be different here.”

Dana came back with three bottles of water. She handed one to me and the other to Alfie.

“I can see where you’re coming from, Alfie. Inside here. I at least know people’s motives, there are only three. Love, money, and the game. Are you playing the game, Myrna?” She looked over at me, taking a sip of her water.

My gaze fell to the ground, “No. I do not appreciate or participate in games.”

Dana’s gaze landed on something behind me, and I could hear footsteps.

“Myrna?” A husky voice said behind me.

I knew who that voice belonged to. A guy I thought I’d never see up until today.

I gulped before gaining the courage to turn around. The corner of my mouth lifted, “Suresh? I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Long time coming, don’t you think?” He flashed his arrogant grin.

I knew him far too much to notice the way he brushed his fingers against his belt, hiding the fact that he was nervous. Nervous to see me. Nervous to know what I’ll say.

“Why are you here, Suresh?” My brows bumped together, “I know your strongest suit isn’t in relationships.” My hands landed on my hips.

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, picking up something from the ground, “why was there a sharp thorn on the ground? Someone could’ve seriously hurt themselves.”

Kat placed her hand on his shoulder, “Hunny, now that’s just nature.”

Dana shushes them, “Myrna, you know him?” Pointing at Suresh.

A familiar face with a tribunal past, and I’m not just saying that because he’s a corporate lawyer. If only he did right in our relationship. We wouldn’t need to stand glaring at each other on love island.

“That’s a good question. After what he did, it made me realize I didn’t know him at all.”

Eddie came chiming in, “My ears were tingling, how juicy do you think it is?” He asked Kat.

“As juicy as a peach, hunny.” She beamed.

“I’m sorry, guys, but I need some time alone.” I walked pasted them and headed to the rooftop.

I dragged my foot towards the coach. My bum was comforted by the soft cushion as I held a pillow against my body.

I didn’t think my past would follow me. In fact, when I saw him, all I wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare, a nightmare that seemed to have gone on way too long. Some hidden feelings resurfaced once I heard his voice. It brought me back memories of the good and bad. It was always him and I against the world, we did so much together that it was hard once it ended, and I had to learn how to be alone again.

I lowered my head.

I thought going to therapy would help, and it did for a short period. I couldn’t get over what he did. I couldn’t get over him, sometimes, I would wake up and look over at the space beside me, wishing he was there to comfort me. I tried to stop dreaming about him, but he would always pop up no matter how much I tried to get him off my mind… I just couldn’t shake him.

I lifted my head when I heard clacking.

The heels tapped against the stairs as Suresh slowly came into view.

He swung his body back and forth, “Hey, you.” He hesitated to take a seat next to me.

“Don’t ‘hey you’ me.” I hugged the pillow tighter, “What are you doing here, Suresh?”

He placed his hands on his thighs, “Well, I would be lying if I said I came on here looking for a fresh start.” He took a deep breath, “I came on here because I wanted to rewrite all the wrongs I did. I couldn’t sleep, or go on about my day without being haunted by what we had. I don’t know what came over me, but… I heard from a mate of mine that you were going to sign up to be on this show. I thought, ‘wow! This would be a great time to have an excuse to see you and redeem what we once shared.’ And I plan on doing that. As long as you’ll have me.”

My lips quivered, my nose crinkled, and my eyes began to well up.

“I’m Sorry, Myrna.” He wrapped his hands around me and indulged me in a hug, “Don’t cry, beautiful. Especially over me. I promise you…. I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll prove it to you every day as long as I live because… our story doesn’t deserve a goodbye.”

Our conversation is soon interrupted by Kat yelling for us to come back down.

He helps me off the couch and leads the way to the garden.

He bit his lip, “Just so you know, I’m here for you, and only you.” He placed his hand over my shoulder.

We rejoin the group.

Kat threw her hands up, “Finally! That felt like forever waiting for you two. It reminds me of this time in Basildon where I had to wait in a line with like six elders that took forever to move forward.”

Dana shook her head, “Anyways…” she continued, “I guess we should get ready to couple up.”

“Myrna, you should go first.”

Kat looked like she was about to object but Dana stopped her.

“Great! I’d like to couple up with this person because I feel like there’s some unfinished business. I want to couple up with Suresh.” I tried to hide the twinkle in my eyes.

Suresh flashed his cocky smile to the lads, “Thanks, beautiful. I was hoping you’d pick me anyway.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “What a shame! A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be with an undeserving fish flopper.”

Alfie turned to him, “What’s with the comebacks mate?”

“I’m a lover, not a disser.”

Alfie shook his head, “But he’s right! Even if he couldn’t execute it well. Being pied off by a girl picking her ex is at a new time low for Alfie boy.”

Kat clicked her tongue, “How did your speech become somewhat worse than Eddie’s? But, my turn, because Alfie seems to be dead set on the second best in the villa… I’ll couple up with Eddie. My nan better be happy right now.”

Dana flashed a nervous smile, “Right! My turn. There are not many options I have to choose from. Unless you count the missing cork opener. I’ll couple up with Alfie because I’m hoping he’ll change my view on love.”

Everything came to a halt once Dana’s phone pinged.

“I got a text!”

Islanders be ready because it’s about to be Finn-tastic with a Finn-surprise! #BombshellComing

Kat beamed, “Ooh, a new boy!” She turned to Eddie, “Sorry, babe.”

Dana raised her chin, “Now who could walk in here?” She tapped her chin.

A long redhead muscular man that had dashing tattoos, and abs saluted us, “I’m Finn. I had to make sure I looked my best for the pretty ladies in front of me, and to try to fix a cork opener, which now that I’m here, would be pointless to have.”

Kat took the cork opener from his hand, “I have been looking all over for that damn thing…” she took a step back making sure to take in the sight of him, “Wow! You’re such a hunky spice tool. With tattoos.” She turned to us, “I hope nan doesn’t mind!” She whispered quietly.

“I’m glad we have you, geezer. Now we can finally play pirates of the Caribbean.” Alfie nodded to him.

Eddie’s face went pale, “More competition. How fun.” Laughing nervously.

Dana patted Eddie, “Don’t worry, guy. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

Finn’s phone pinged, “I got a text!”

Finn, you have twenty four hours when you’ll be able to couple up with a girl of your pick. The boy in the couple you break up, will be left single and at risk. #SourHearts #TakeYourChoice

Finn glanced over at the boys, “Sorry, mates. No hard feelings.”

The boys simmer down, leaving the area in silence making it become awkward real fast.

Finn looks amazingly good, but somehow, I can’t help but gawk over at Suresh.

“Can I feel your tats?” Kat asked Finn.

He grins, “Sure thing! Don’t forget to compliment my biceps when you do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “So looks like I should be worried. Kat looks like she’d be a bit of Finn.”

Alfie observed Finn, “Hey, man! Who knows he could have immaculate taste and choose Dana.”

Dana flashed him a smile.

“Boys. Boys. Boys. All will be told when it comes.” He winks at them.

“So good at being mysterious. Not the best though, not like me. Myrna could never go for good, she’s always strived for the best.” He said, confidently smirking.

“I’ve got more up my sleeves than I can show, but, if we’re talking about based on first impression, all of y’all are a bit of me.” He boldly makes eye contact with me, “If Suresh is your ex Myrna then you can do better. But must I say, he’s got great taste. Must be because you’re delira to meet.”

I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug, “Grafting pretty hard already.”

Suresh pulled me closer to him, having his hand on my waist, “Pull all your cards. It takes more than a couple of words to get her.”

Finn chuckled, “Does it also take a couple of words to lose her too?”

In the corner of my eye, I could see Suresh’s knuckles turn white.

I knew that stung Suresh, especially if it reminded him of his wrongdoings.

My phone pings, “Y’all know the cue. I got a text!”

Islanders, be prepared because you’ll be taking part in a lovely couples quiz hosted by your personal pirate Finn #HowWellDoYouKnowThem #QuizThatCouple

Suresh whispered into my ear, “This should be easy. I could never forget anything about you.”

I nodded my head, “It’s hard to forget someone like me, babe.”

Kat clapped her hands together, “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but we should have a chat with our couples, even though I know Eddie and I don’t need a chat privately. I feel like I’ve known him my entire life.” She sent a prideful look my way.

We all agreed. Suresh and I went over to the daybeds.

We sat closely, nothing out of the ordinary between us.

Suresh broke the silence, “It feels good to finally be talking to you again. I know we’ll ace this quiz, we’ve always been good at doing things as a couple. We were like missing puzzle pieces for each other. Fit so well together. There was never a boring moment between us. You’ve always been the light of my day. I just hope you know that, and I won’t make the same mistake and lose you.”

I looked down at the ground, “I’ll admit hearing you talk has me right in my feelings. I know admitting all this… the past you… would have a hard time conveying your feelings, and confessing your mistakes. So I’m happy to see that improvement from you. I… I want us to work. I know it’s early in our couple in here, but I want to give it another shot.”

Suresh’s thigh brushes against mine, and he raises his head, his gaze lands on my lips.

“I want to kiss you so much right now, but I’m resisting for you.”

“But what if I don’t want you to resist? We’ve always been good at physicality, let’s see if we still have it?”

He brushed his finger against the bottom of my lip before planting a kiss on them.

The heavy exhales brush against my cheek. I should be stopping this, keeping the distance between us as possible. But being near old flames has never felt so good as it does when it's snuggled behind Suresh’s eyes. The lust pulls me in, fire, daring me to touch it as my heart skips a beat feeling pure excitement. Every last piece of control in my body breaks, and I move my lips to him, curious and lustful about the past flames, the flare. The hand that was once holding my face climbs its way down to my waist, and it doesn't take much effort until Suresh climbs on top of me. In a moment our bodies turn into hungry animals. Making it seem as if we are the only people on this earth.

We stop as we hear a cough. Dana stood there, flushed.

“Sorry. To interrupt. But… I got a text!” She avoided our gaze.

Suresh and I regained our composure.

Islanders, don’t worry the time has come to get to know your new couple. Please would you head over to the fire pit for the couples quiz. #CoupleGoals #TestingTheWaters

“Hooray!” Kat exclaims excitedly.

We all head to the fire pit sitting in our couples. Finn stands in front of us with a deck of questions.

“Are all y’all ready to rumble? I hope y’all are good with quizzes.”

Kat smirks, “Oh, Peach, let me tell you something. I went to this bar in Basildon and they’d have quizzes there, and who would’ve guessed it… I won each one, so bring it on!”

Dana chuckled, “I don’t know if I’m that confident. I’m not that good at quizzes, but I could never turn down one.”

“I’m confident that I’ll be good at this. When it comes to our relationship I was always the winner.” I playfully bumped my shoulder into Suresh’s.

“Hey! Hey! Now let’s just say… I let you win. If I didn’t you’d become a sore loser.” He sent an air kiss my way.

I turned back to Finn, crossing my arms.

Finn grins, “It’s about to get saucy in here mates. I hope you’re ready.” He looks over at Suresh and me, “I’m in a pretty chaotic mood, so Suresh and Myrna, you’re up first.”

Suresh relaxed his shoulders, “Bring it on! I know Myrna like the back of my hand.” He sent me a smoldering look.

“What is Myrna’s favorite date?” Finn lifted his brow, wondering if Suresh would guess it right.

“I’m going to say… our Monte Carlo trip. We had a blast! And Myrna was always a sucker for romance, and what’s more romantic than that? I’d go into specifics but that would be telling. The dinner on the boat was everything…” He grinned at me, placing his hand on my thigh.

“You’re correct! Although, I’d prefer something more laid back for a date. Like a picnic on a beach… maybe I’ll be able to take one of you girls on a date… don’t want to go into details, you’ll just have to see.”

Eddie shuffles in his seat, “Got to remind us, huh? Don’t play with all these girls’ hearts if you actually just want one in particular.”

Finn brushes Eddie’s comment off, “What is Myrna’s biggest turn off?”

Suresh confidently looks over at me, “Definitely a man who doesn’t know what they want. Myrna wants to feel secure.”

“Then why is she trying to be with you again?” Finn crosses his arms, looking sternly at Suresh.

“Clearly because I’m the better option. Y’all aren’t even competition to me at this point.”

Finn cackled, “Sure, mate. Next question. Has Myrna ever flirted to get free stuff?”

I flashed a fake smile.

“No, never. She didn’t flirt with anyone else, and if she did I would know about it.”

Finn smirked as he looked down at the card, “And that my friend… is where you’re wrong.”

Suresh did a once over before rubbing the back of his nape.

“Obviously that’s half true. I never needed to flirt to get free stuff. I remember being in this store, the Pumpkin store, and there happened to be a man there who offered to give me something free that cost at least $65. Who am I to turn that down?” I asked the group.

Kat nodded her head, “Yeah! You’re right! It’s not our fault we’re hot and people happen to reward us with gifts because we blessed them with our presence. Nothing bad about that. She technically didn’t flirt then.”

Wow! This was the first time Kat was being nice. That shocked even me, but deep down I knew she was going to come around eventually.

“Enough. Enough. Finn did it again. It’s time for Myrna to answer questions. What is Suresh’s biggest turn on?”

I squeezed Suresh’s hand, “Obviously, during foreplay, he would go nuts for a bit of role-playing.”

Finn checked the answer, disappointment plastered across his face, “That’s the right answer! Again… What is Suresh’s biggest regret?”

I bit my lip, “I- that’s tuff. I’ll say his biggest regret is not being able to go on that cruise with me and our mates. He was pretty bummed out about that.” I snickered remembering the moment a little too well.

Finn made an imitation of a buzzer sound, “Wrong! His biggest regret was cheating on you.”

Suresh looked down, and I slowly laid my head on his shoulder.

“I think you lads need to find another thing to be the bud of the joke, don’t forget I was the one cheated on, not you, or you or you.” I pointed to the boys, “So be a little considerate, okay?”

They all nodded their heads, and then the game continued.

There was a bit of laughter, and embarrassment as the rest of the islanders got quizzed. When it was over I chose to dip my toes in the pool, soaking in the good weather and feeling the cool breeze brush against my skin.

I felt someone sit next to me, and I lifted my sunglasses, “Oh, hey, Suresh, what’s going on with you? I saw you and the blokes working out…”

He sighed, resting his head on my lap, “Uh, yeah! Kat kept on flirting with Finn, and Eddie was upset but he wasn’t going to outright say that. I’m so glad we’re not having to deal with anything like that. Makes me wonder what they have in store for us next.”

I brushed my fingers through his hair, “Well, the least we know is that there’s going to be a recoupling, but I doubt he’ll pick me.”

I knew Finn sort of had been eyeing me. Oh, who am I kidding, he’s even let Suresh know, but I didn’t want Finn to interrupt Suresh and I’s reconnection. Plus, there were things I needed to know, and It was going better than I thought, and something I have been wanting for a while. Maybe I’ll have a chat with him later but for now I’m going to spoil myself by soaking in the moment, something I rarely ever do.

[eclecticmickyalberta]

Wine Whining

Wine Whining

July 28, 2015

   Ain’t it great? Every year we get more down to earth and a few sacred cows topple in the dust. It seems that recently the laws of wine worship have been revoked and we’re blowing the whistle on the holy mystique of the nectars of Bacchus.

   Confess: Didn’t you fear your taste buds had an I.Q. of 70 when the experts swished a mouthful, rolled their eyes and babbled about hints of chocolate and licorice bark and a finish of coffee on your red wine? Who put that stuff in your wine?

   He: “Darling, the overtones of battery acid in this Pinot Noir are so subtle as to be scarcely perceptible.”

   She: “Oh, and the delicate suggestion of nail polish in this Merlot is so understated, it’s scarcely a breath. I’m glad we let it age for seventeen years to bring its intellectual sophistication in balance with the gentle whimsy of its fruitiness.”

   Out in Kelowna, the heart of British Columbia’s white hot wine industry, radio hosts chat about the valley’s bottled gold. They’re going, “Hey, it’s a business, and it’s a drink, and let’s not be so snooty.”

   Says one, “According to the experts, this cabernet Alicia must be drunk in a cabernet glass to bring out its full bouquet.”

   And who thought up that one? The people who make stemmed crystal, of course.

   The other comes back, “But we put wine on too much of a pedestal. At the end of the day, just shut up and drink it.”

   Stop talking and drink it? I’m on board.

   It’s no longer a requirement to wrestle with a corkscrew and then pass the cork around to sniff. Recent yuppie vintages come in a handy screw top and you can plunk the bottle on the table without fear of the butler’s giving notice. If you’re really brave, leave the price sticker on or brag about how cheap you got it in that little strip mall next to Wal-Mart.

   Who performed the great service to serious drinkingkind everywhere by tying the grape gourmand to a pillar and tickling him with a wine cellar feather duster until he spilled his guts about the breathing of red wine?

   “Tee hee, well, it started as a joke over beers—tee hee, oh stop, you’re killing me—and then everybody believed it and we didn’t know how to—tee hee, please stop and I’ll confess…”

   Seems a group of wine experts with post-graduate palates tasted four bottles of the same red wine. One bottle sat open for an hour, one was decanted for an hour, one was decanted and poured, and the last was opened and poured. The Ph.D Palates went for number four.

   Well, bless me if the wine industry isn’t as rife with naked emperors as cyberspace with nasty viruses. Red wine breathes? I guess we all looked that stupid, huh? It’s a bottle of fermented fruit juice, at bottom. Liquids do not breathe. Liquids exist to be drunk by humans, who do breathe.

   I do get it about clearing the palate between varietals. It gives you a chance to indulge in another great fermented food, this one in solid form. There must be as many cheeses as wines out there, all ready to be praised to the heavens in glorious, grandiose verbal cascades.

   So let’s not lose all the fun. Before this dandy one-upmanship passes into antiquity, raise the bar. Throw a classic wine and cheese tasting party and mandate that everybody get in touch with his pretentious side. Include two 4 x 6 file cards with the invitation. When guests bring their wine and cheese offerings for the occasion, they must bring a high-toned description of each. Give points and an extra pouring for hyperbole, alliteration and over-the-top verbosity. Award more points and a take-home bottle for the guest who is voted the biggest talent for pretentious prattle.

   And no cuspidors. No one is allowed to treat these elevated beverages like Listerine mouthwash. Why let the fruit ferment and then not get a little buzz? You have to swallow, so when the imbibing begins, the airs will flow as fast as the drinks.

   Don’t limit the grandiosity to the goodies. Call for a dress code. Insist on formal jeans, or maybe hats and gloves…any kind. Encourage your guests to indulge their sense of the ridiculous and the sublime, from Moody Blue and Cheez Whiz on Ritz crackers to champagne and Brie.

   Pop, pour, and party on.