#we really seem to enjoy the same things but neither of us are very social. just sort of talking about things we would like to do. which

[icterid-rubus]

Aaa well I stayed up until like 2 am composing a response to my classmate. We talked about seeing some Christmas lights in town, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger on it and actually ask if they’d like to go with me. Today, by happenstance, I was invited to see the lights with my other friends and so turned around and extended that invitation to my classmate, thinking they would turn it down. But, they said yes! I’m a bit relieved that seeing them again will happen with a larger casual group, but I’m not super excited about introducing them to this particular group. Idk enough about my classmate to know how accepting they are of queer people. They seemed fine at the reunion. But this group does have an intense energy and I’m just so bad at socializing to begin with.

[wolverigrl]

Rumors

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Warnings: smut! Only 18+!, swearing, angsty, fluffy

!Disclaimer! If you'd like to skip the smut, scroll down as soon as you see "---" in the text. From there, the smut part begins and ends at the next "---"!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's been five months. Five months since our first date, and yet somehow, it feels like both forever and no time at all.

I sit here now, in the gym, watching him lift weights like it’s nothing, and I’m struck by just how lucky I feel. From the very beginning, it was like we found our rhythm without even trying - our relationship is built on mutual respect and trust. We give each other space when needed, and t's refreshing to be with someone who values independence as much as I do.

The dates we've had so far have been perfect in their own way. Our second one was at this hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in the city. I remember how he laughed when I spilled wine on the tablecloth, and how his hand brushed mine as we reached for the same napkin. We've done simple things too, like grabbing coffee early in the morning or working out. Once, we spent an afternoon at an old bookstore, getting lost in the aisles of dusty novels and sharing passages that made us laugh. Every moment with him feels like a memory in the making

And yet, it all changed a little last month when we were spotted. We hadn't been careful enough. A quick kiss in a park, something so innocent, but the paparazzi caught us. The next day, our picture was splashed across every tabloid and social media. That unintentional confirmation of our relationship wasn't what we had planned. Neither of us wanted the world in on our private lives.

Still, we've dodged every question thrown at us in interviews or on social media. But avoiding the questions doesn't stop the criticism.

The age gap. It's what everyone seems to latch onto. Hugh's used to it - He’s been doing this long enough to know how to handle the press, the rumors, the gossip. But me? I’m still learning how to deal with it. I try to act like it doesn't bother me. I nod along, tell everyone I'm fine, but inside, it's harder than I thought it would be. Some of the comments sting more than I care to admit. I've been in relationships before, but none of them were "public" like this. My exes were all from my private circle - well, except for Chris, but that doesn't count. That was way before either of us was well-known. This, with Hugh, is different. It's out there.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep us private for a while longer, to hold onto this little piece of normalcy for just us. But now it’s out, and there’s no taking it back.

Now everything is under scrutiny. People question our relationship and my motives. Of course there are fans who are supportive - sweet comments, even some who come up to me on the street and say they love us together. But then there are the others. The ones who say I’m only with him to advance my career, that I’m using him to get ahead. Ever since our last movie together, I’ve been getting bigger roles, and some people think that’s because of him. Like I can’t earn anything on my own.

I try to brush it off, but there are moments when those words hit hard. And even though Hugh has told me a thousand times to ignore it. I’m not like him. I haven’t been in the spotlight for decades. I don’t have the thick skin he’s developed over the years.

Our managers weren’t thrilled either when they found out we’d been seeing each other behind their backs. It wasn’t anger, really, more disappointment that we hadn’t trusted them enough to let them in on it. But in a way, I’m glad we didn’t. We needed this to just to be ours for a while.

Still, despite all the noise, the criticism, the rumors—there’s comfort between us. We act like a real couple. We’ve never had the talk, though, about what we are exactly. Are we officially together? I don’t even know. We’ve just kind of fallen into this routine, and honestly, love it. I love the way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world when we’re together.

My eyes drift back to him as he lowers the weights, his muscles tensing with the effort. He's ridiculously strong, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a turn on. God, he’s attractive. And sweet. And patient. And funny. Sometimes I catch myself even fangirling. I mean, it's still Hugh fucking Jackman. How did I get so lucky?

“You good, y/n?" Hugh’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Yeah." I say, quickly covering up my awkwardness with a grin. “Just appreciating the view.”

His eyes narrow, that playful smile tugging at his lips. He walks over, sweat still glistening on his skin, and towers above me, crossing his arms. “You know, you could’ve just taken a picture.”

“Maybe I will next time,” I tease, leaning back on the bench.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Or you could just join me instead of sitting over there like a creep.”

“Please. I did twice as many reps as you did earlier,” I say, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from my brow. “I deserve a break.”

“Is that right?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning down so we’re almost face-to-face. “Pretty sure I saw you struggling with those squats.”

“I wasn’t struggling." I protest, trying to keep a straight face, but his cocky grin is making it impossible.

“You say that now, but your form—”

“My form was perfect!” I laugh, pushing his arm lightly. “Stop acting like you weren’t impressed.”

“Oh, I was impressed." he admits, his voice dropping an octave. “Just not with your workout.”

The heat between us flares up in an instant, the way it always does when he looks at me like that. There’s this pull, this magnetic energy that I haven’t felt in a while. We flirt, we tease, we push each other’s buttons, and it’s exhilarating. But there’s always this line we haven’t fully crossed yet. We get close - so close - but we always pull back.

We go back and forth like this until we wrap up our workout. Hugh's leaving for Sydney tomorrow to visit his family for a few weeks, but his kids won't be able to join him because they're going on holiday with their mom, so it'll just be him this time

I'll admit, I already miss him so much. I don't really know what to do yet. So far, we've spent pretty much every day together, but now that the interviews are slowly getting fewer and everyday life is getting quieter, it's getting boring without someone to keep me on my toes. I guess Ryan and Blake will have to take over.

After the gym, we head back to his place, still bickering about who did better with which exercises. By the time we're on the couch, it's turned into playful shoving and teasing until his lips are on mine, and everything else fades away. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch sets my skin on fire.

But just as things are about to cross that line again, I pull away, leaving him breathless and staring at me in confusion.

"You’re impossible." he mutters, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

I smile sweetly, standing up and stretching. “I need a shower.”

"You’re an absolutely evil woman!" he calls after me as I walk toward the bathroom, but I don’t turn around. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

I can't help but smile to myself as I undress and step into the shower. The hot water cascades down my skin, but my mind is elsewhere - back on the couch, replaying the way his hands felt on me, the way his breath hitched when I kissed him. It's getting harder to hold back, to not give in to the growing desire between us. We've come close before - so many times - but for some reason, we always stop right pefore things get too far. It's like we're both waiting for the perfect moment. I'm not in a rush, but God, he makes it so hard to resist.

But it’s not just physical. It’s him. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel seen. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone, and that scares me a little. I’m falling for him - hard - and I’m terrified of what that means. We’ve never even talked about what we are, and here I am, thinking about how much I want him, how much I love him.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Am I in love with him? My heart pounds in my chest, and I realize that, yes, I probably am. But I don’t know if he feels the same way. What if this is just something casual for him? What if I bring it up, and he doesn’t feel the same? He’s never pressured me, never pushed for more, and sometimes I wonder if he’s happy with how things are - just casual, just fun.

When I'm done, I slip into my pajamas - just a simple tank top and shorts - and head into the bedroom. Hugh's sitting on the edge of the bed, scroling through his phone, but he glances up when I walk in.

"Took you long enough." he says with a mischievous grin. "Were you thinking about me in there?"

I smirk, leaning against the doorway.

"Maybe?"

He laughs, setting his phone down and standing up. He walks over to me, placing one hand on my hip, the other cupping my face. His lips brush mine in a teasing kiss, his hand sliding down to give my ass a playful squeeze.

"Behave." I mutter, but my voice betrays me, sounding more breathless than I intended.

"Why? I thought you like it when I don’t." he says, that teasing grin never faltering.

Before I can respond, he pulls away and heads to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

I sighed and lay down on the bed and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Before I can lose myself in my thoughts again, I hear the water turn off, and a minute later, Hugh steps back into the room, still dripping wet and wrapped only in his towel, which hangs dangerously low. I can't take my eyes off him. He's searching through the dresser, muttering something about forgetting his boxers, but I don't hear the words. My heart pounds in my chest, and I know - I know - this is it. I can’t hold back anymore.

Without second guessing, I get up and cross the room, moving toward him without a word. He watches me, his brow furrowing in slight confusion, but there’s something else there too.

When I reach him, I stop, just inches away, and look up at him. I don’t say anything for a long moment. I just let myself feel the weight of this moment.

---

Finally, I find my voice, though it’s softer than I expected. “I want you.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I’ve surprised him. But then, something shifts in his expression, and the air between us thickens. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek as he studies my face.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and I can see the restraint in his eyes. He’s giving me an out. One last chance to change my mind. But I don’t want out. Not anymore.

“Yes." I whisper, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “I’m sure.”

That’s all it takes. In an instant, his lips are on mine, and the kiss is different this time - deeper. Hungrier. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into his touch.

Before I know it, he’s lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the roughness of the towel against my skin. His grip tightens, and I’m suddenly aware of just how much I want him - how much I’ve always wanted him.

The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, and I can feel the last remnants of our restraint crumbling. He carries me over to the bed, his towel loosening around his hips, and gently lays me down. Our breaths are ragged, our bodies pressed together in a way that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

His kisses moved to my neck while one of his hands disappeared under my top. I gasped softly and ran my hands over his strong back. He began to gently squeeze my breast as I pressed his hips against mine with my legs, clearly feeling his arousal. Breathing heavily, he rubbed his groin against me and applied more pressure to my breast.

"Please." I said softly and looked at him greedily. "Please what, love?" he broke away from my lips and straightened up a little to get a better look at my face.

I couldn't help myself and looked down to his towel, which was now hanging down so low that you could see his perfect v-line clearly, as well as the vein under his belly button.

I swallowed and also straightened up to pull my top over my head.

"Fucking hell." he muttered quietly. I lay back down with my arms over my head and looked straight at him. "Just stop holding back and fuck me already."

He didn't need to be told twice and leaned over me again. The kiss was wilder than before and I felt like his hands were everywhere. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice that he had already thrown my shorts on the floor. It was only when I felt his fingers on my clit that I realized it. I gasped out loud and dug my fingers in his hair and shoulders as he caressed my neck and circled his thumb over my clit. I was a complete wreck. Everything happened so quickly, but somehow it also didn't. I pressed my knees into Hugh's sides and pushed my pelvis towards him as he slid two fingers inside me. I moaned loudly and pushed my head back into the pillow. Suddenly I felt an electrifying sensation as he ran his tongue around my breast and sucked on it. He curled his fingers in and moved his hand faster. I moaned loudly again and pressed my nails firmly into his shoulder as a pleasurable feeling came over me in my abdomen.

Hugh's kisses moved back up to my lips until he released his heavy breath and slid his fingers out of me.

He looked at me full of lust and totally befuddled. I had never seen him like this before. But seeing him like this almost made me go crazy myself. He smiled gently at me and stroked a few strands of hair from my face. "You're so damn beautiful."

I felt my face flush and ran my hands down his torso to his dick, smiling. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as I slowly began to stroke him.

I clenched around nothing and bit my lip as I looked at him.

He looked at me again, bent both my legs and pulled my hands away, to stroke his own member. He rubbed his pre-cum wet tip against my clit and looked deep into my eyes. It made me absolutely feral.

"Hell. Stop fucking teasing!" I growled. Without another word, he slid into me and put my legs over his shoulders. I moaned loudly and curled my toes. He was breathing heavily and you could see how much he was controlling himself.

"You're so fucking tight." He slowly began to move his hips and it drove me wild when I felt him filling me up. "Baby please don't hold back." I moaned and closed my eyes.

"Eyes on me my love." he groaned and thrusted harder. I gasped, a little startled, and looked him straight in the eyes. My hands disappeared into his hair again and his speed increased steadily. I felt everything slowly boiling up inside me and I clenched hard around his dick. That eye contact. His moans. The sounds of our bodies hitting each other and the thick air in the room. Everything began to spin around me and I could no longer maintain eye contact.

"I'm gonna cum!" I moaned as I felt him thrusting even deeper than before. Hugh now closed his own eyes, let my legs off his shoulders and pressed both my hands over my head with one hand to stimulate my clit with the other. He was panting loudly himself. "Cum for me baby. I wanna see how you cum all over me."

That gave me the rest and for a brief moment I thought I was seeing the white light. My legs were shaking like crazy and I felt an incredible pull in my abdomen. Hugh moaned with me and let go of me to support himself with his forearms next to my head instead.

Panting, he rested his head in the crook of my neck while I stroked his sweaty back. Shortly afterwards, I felt his rhythm become more and more irregular until he did a last hard thrust and moaned loudly. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his pulsing dick made my skin crawl and I pressed myself tightly against him with my legs and arms.

There was complete silence for a moment. I could only hear our panting and our heartbeats in the room.

I felt his semen leaking out of me and slowly running down my bottom.

Hugh pulled away to lay down next to me and pulled me to his side before kissing me on the forehead. I smiled at him and stroked his sweaty chest with my hand.

"We should probably have done it before the shower." Hugh said with a smirk and looked at me.

"Or in the shower." He laughed and nodded.

---

After cleaning up, we lay together, our bodies entwined under the blanket. The room is quiet, except for the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal. Hugh is beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my skin. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, and there’s a comfort in the silence between us.

But there’s also a weight, a need to say something. To define this.

I shift slightly, turning so I can face him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Then, softly, I ask. "Do you ever… worry? About what people say about us?”

His brow furrows slightly, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face before answering. “What people say? You mean the age thing?”

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. And the way they watch us. The paparazzi, the rumors… It’s just hard sometimes.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently cupping the back of my head. “I know it’s hard, y/n and I’m sorry you have to deal with all that because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say quickly. “I just… sometimes I don’t know how to handle it. But I don't want to be that person who lets the outside world affect what we have." I whisper. "But sometimes it just... gets to me."

"You're not that person." he assures me, his voice firm but gentle. "You're human. And it's okay to feel that way. The important thing is that we talk about it, like we're doing now.. And you don’t have to handle it alone." he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “I’m here. We’re in this together.”

His words are soothing, but there’s still a part of me that struggles with the reality of our situation. I bite my lip, hesitating before speaking again. “Sometimes I wonder… if maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Hey." he interrupts softly, his thumb grazing my cheek. “Don’t go there. We’re good, okay? We’re more than good.”

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just don’t want it to get too complicated.”

Hugh is silent for a moment, then he asks quietly. “Would it help if we made it official?”

I blink, my heart skipping a beat. “Official?”

He gives me a small smile, his eyes soft as he looks at me. “Yeah. Maybe then they will stop harassing us with their questions." For a moment we both were silent before he started to speak again. "Like… would you want to be my girlfriend?”

My heart swells at the simplicity of his question and made me speechless. Then I slowly nod, a smile spreading across my face. “Yeah." I whisper. “I’d like that.”

He grins, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, content.

After a while, he pulls back, looking thoughtful. “You know, I’m heading to Australia tomorrow to visit family.”

I nod, already knowing. “Yeah, you mentioned that. How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks." he says, his fingers brushing over my arm absently. “But… I was thinking. What if you came with me?”

I blink in surprise. “To Sydney?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it’d be nice… spending some more time together. Away from all this.”

I hesitate, the idea both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know, Hugh. It feels… fast. I haven’t even met your family yet.”

He chuckles softly. “You wouldn’t have to. Not unless you wanted to. It can just be the two of us. We can do whatever you want. I just want to spend time with you."

I smile softly at his words, feeling my heart swell.

“I’ll think about it,” I say softly, leaning my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a calming rhythm that soothes the anxiety swirling in my mind.

“Good,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently through my hair. “That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

I bite my lip, thinking it over. The idea is tempting - really tempting.

"Okay." I say, making the decision. "I'II come. But maybe I'll fly out a week later. That way I can maybe meet up with Blake and Ryan, maybe even visit Chris in Boston."

Hugh nods, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Deal. A week later, and we'll have the best time. Just you and me."

We share another soft kiss, and can't help but laugh against his lips.

After our conversation, we lay there for a little while longer, basking in the afterglow of everything we’d just shared. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks felt lighter now that we’d talked about it.

Eventually, we sat up, and the idea struck me - if we were really ready to move forward, maybe it was time to let the world know about us on our own terms.

“I was thinking…” I start, glancing over at him. “We should post a photo of us."

Hugh’s eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. “You sure about that?”

I nod, feeling a sense of resolve I hadn’t felt before. “Yeah. I mean the media already knows about us and we can't hide anymore. So why not?"

A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s take a picture then.”

I chuckle. “But maybe we should put on some clothes first?”

Hugh laughs softly, the sound sending a warmth through me. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t scandalize the internet too much.”

As I sit up, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bedroom mirror and grimace slightly. My hair’s a mess from… well, everything, and I’m definitely not looking my best. “Ugh. I look awful.”

Hugh stands up and shakes his head with an amused smile. “You look perfect,” he says, casually reaching into his closet for a shirt. He pulls one on, his muscles stretching the fabric in a way that makes it hard for me to focus. “Come on, we’ll take a cute one.”

I roll my eyes playfully but grab one of his T-shirts from the drawer. “Fine, but if I look weird, we’re deleting it.”

“No way!” he teases, pulling me into his arms once I have the shirt on. “You could never look weird.”

I can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around me from behind. He holds the phone up in front of us, angling it to get the perfect shot. “Okay, smile!”

I glance up at him just as he snaps the picture. My smile turns into a laugh, the joy bubbling out of me before I can stop it. I look ridiculous, but when I see the photo, it’s kind of perfect. Hugh’s grinning at the camera, looking all charming and effortlessly handsome as always, while I’m gazing up at him, clearly laughing and obviously so in love.

I bite my lip, hesitating. “I don’t know… I look a little -"

“You look great." Hugh cuts in, his tone firm but soft. “Come on, y/n. This is us. It’s real.”

I glance at the picture again. He’s right. It’s not some polished, perfect photo shoot - it's just us. Happy, in love, and completely ourselves. I sigh, giving in. “Okay, fine. Let’s post it.”

He beams at me, clearly pleased, and starts typing a caption on his phone. I lean over his shoulder to read it:

>>thehughjackman: Caught laughing at all the rumors... guess they weren't all wrong🤫 #couplegoals<<

I laugh, rolling my eyes playfully "#CoupleGoals? Really?"

"You're right." he says, smirking as he backspaces. "How about.. #HughJackedY/n?"

I swat him laughing, and he finally posts it without any hashtag.

I take my smartphone and also post it with another caption:

>>y/ninstagram: Who knew Wolverine was such a softie?❤️🐺<<

And just like that, it’s out there. The world now knows officially. My heart pounds a little faster as the notifications start rolling in almost instantly. I feel a rush of nervous excitement—what will people say?

We sit there, watching as the comments flood in, one after another.

>>vancityreynolds: Took you long enough!<<

>>blakelively:This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Love you both!<<

>>ChrisEvans: Treat her right or Cap's coming for you!💪🏻<<

>>zendaya: Omg, stop! You guys are ADORABLE<<

>>officialladydeadpoolmovie: Deadpool approves of this union. Carry on.<<

I glance at Hugh as the comments keep pouring in, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and relief. There’s so much love here—so many people supporting us. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I told you it’d be fine,” Hugh says, his voice soft. He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “And look, everyone’s happy for us.”

I smile at him, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

More comments continue to roll in, some from fans, some from friends:

>>florencepugh: I KNEW IT!!!<<

But it’s the fan comments that really make me smile:

>>lordyx3z: Omg, I knew they were together! This makes me so happy!🥹😩<<

>>serenax77: Remember when y/n literally said 'fuck me' during an interview? Manifesting at its finest😂😂😭<<

>>hugh4ewa: Hugh, blink twice if y/n's forcing you to post couple pics😂<<

>>y/nno1fan: About damn time! Y'all had me waiting like the post credits scene of a Marvel Movie!<<

>>mynameseve: I need somebody to look at me, like y/n looks at Hugh😭❤️<<

>>girlpoolxpoppins: Can somebody pls check on Ryan? ASAP<<

>>boyinyellwspndx: y/n: "fck me!" - Hugh: "Say less". Dreams come true folks<<

I can’t help but grin at the flood of positivity. Sure, I know there will be some haters - there always are - but for now, it feels like we’re surrounded by love and support, and that’s all that matters. I glance at Hugh again, my heart swelling as he scrolls through the comments, laughing at some of the more playful ones.

“This was a good idea.” I say quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Of course it was.” he murmurs. “Now everyone knows you’re officially mine.”

I laugh softly, my heart feeling full. “And you’re mine.”

We sit there for a while, reading through the comments and enjoying the moment. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like we’re finally free to be ourselves without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And honestly? It feels perfect.

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01

Next part

[cynautica]

One thing that kills me about Alyou is that for their relationship to develop you kind of have to address and utilize the isolation that goes unsaid in the game.

Like, we know Robin isn’t some social outcast. She enjoyed her work and was pretty outgoing. The only live interaction we get to see with another human is with Hal where he says she’ll be missed. She quite literally abandons everything to investigate Sam’s death on a harsh alien planet on the far reaches of the galaxy. She chooses to make herself an outcast. Anyone close to her that hears that is counting the days before she’s assumed dead and missing.

Al-an on the other hand is actively seeking his own people. The entire game is him looking for the other precursors, a goal we can only assume extends well beyond the game. Of which for Robin we can only assume two outcomes: they find the architects within her lifespan or they don’t.

If they do find the architects, how does their relationship fair? Does Robin get sent back to human civilization a hero to architects but a nobody to her own people? There’s no guarantee if she wrote about the precursors anyone would even believe her. Or, doing so makes her and the architects a target for Alterra. There’s no guarantee she’d ever be able to find a job she loved ever again, or, best case scenario her writings about the species make her famous. What then? Sure she might have money and fame, but she’ll no doubt never be able to talk to Al-an again with loads of questions still unanswered.

But what if Robin brings Al-an with her back to the human world? She doesn’t seem to have a lot of faith in humans not acting terrible, trying everything from putting him in a cage to keeping him as a trophy. He might get a kick out of being a science subject at first, but we know he’s not quick to make friends. Maybe he shares some advancements with the humans? If he trusts them that is.

The same goes in reverse in what if Robin stays for some time with architect society? They’d no doubt want to learn everything they could about humans resources willing. However it took Al-an a whole game to understand the nuances of human socialization before they even let him near one. I can’t imagine Robin being comfortable in a whole society full of very tall, very advanced, and very nosey aliens. Best case scenario Al-an shares his etiquette and respect with the other architects or they mostly ignore her. Even with this outcome Robin is still in a world not built for her in mind. She can still make friends with the architects, but they’d no doubt feel clinically asocial.

Then of course the third option, both are fully isolated. They neither find the architects and Robin chooses not to return to human civilization. They both have eachother to keep company, but they’ll always be alone. Humans are designed to seek other humans, and architects no doubt feel the same being social creatures. Sure one another might be “good enough” but there will always be that unmistakable feeling of solitude. Alone together, till one of them dies.

Then what? Does the other move on, driven purely by their desire for scientific conquest on the far reaches of the stars? Adopt a pet and live their life alone like Maida?

The closest thing to a perfect ending is that both the architects are alive and Robin chooses to return to human civilization, but both species are able to build a good working relationship. Both Al-an and Robin are regarded as heroes on both sides and still have the ability to talk every once in awhile. It would be really neat to see precursors join the supporting cast for subnautica 2, being our access port for advanced tech. But then us Rob-an shippers have to face the idea that their relationship would probably end with just friendship or both would still be ostracized for being weirdos

In any solution though there has to be some compromise. A perfect ending isn’t necessarily possible.

This is why I think Alyou should officially be classified as tragic yuri send tweet

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

I just wanted to say that I am really envious of the way you write the Vees. As someone who struggles with making characters woobiefying and with characterization in general, I appreciate how you can write these characters perfectly that the show didn’t have time to portray. I didn’t have a specific request, but now I was wondering if you could give me some advice on how to analyze and write a character, even if you have a personal bias towards them?

Awww thank you so much ❤️ I don't have like any degree in literature or anything that would give me credibility in giving writing advice, usually I just go with the flow. But I'll do my best!

Imo the most fundamental thing is the way you think about characters. In fandom spaces, we very often see them as "people we like" - hence all the discourses like in Valentino's case "if you like him it means you are a bad person". I think that woobification is influenced by this cognitive dissonance caused by liking characters that should be unlikeable. For me the way out of it was giving up "characters as people" mindset and changing it for "characters as tools". Bacause that's what they are - tools you use to build your narrative. When I say I love Valentino I don't mean I would shake his hand - I mean he's my favourite toy I can do multiple things with. And it's his flaws that make him so much fun. Because outside of the comedy genre, narrative cannot exist without conflict. The more flaws a character has, the more conflict it causes. That's why villains are such a powerful driving force for stories (here are some great essays about it: 1, 2). Put any character in the room with Val and you have an interesting bit not only because of the usual character differences that could happen between eg. Vaggie and Husk but also because stakes suddenly become high. What will he do? Will he hurt them? We saw what he's capable of. Will he be nice? Man, that's even worse because it means he has his own motive to be nice. What might it be? That's what keeps the audience engaged with your writing. Extra points if you give him some human weaknesses or conflicting desires. When it comes to characterization, nuance is the key. That's why I love VoxVal so much - two characters that are absolutely awful but they are fiercely in love. How could Valentino be capable of simply caring about someone but himself? What kind of human is buried underneath all this evil? So much to unpack here. Nothing I'd like to experience but everything I'd like to see from a safe distance. Consider: would you even like the Vees so much in the beginning if they were just other guests at the hotel? In the show, neither of them has a single redeemable quality. And yet, here we are.

When it comes to writing characteristics it's also important to watch characters from different perspectives - that helps with giving them nuance. Let's take Vox. People seem to like and respect him, he's obviously an influential figure (he has a lot of social power). But from Alastor's perspective, he's just a pathetic little attention-seeking looser (he has a fragile ego and lowe self-esteem). Yet his assistant seemed to be scared shitless while talking to him (he had done things that made people from his closer look aware that he's dangerous). Angel knows he watches his abuse and hangs out with Valentino (at best he's indifferent to other's suffering, at worst he enjoys it). Carmilla doesn't respect him but they are on terms good enough, Vox wants to do business with her (he's a competent business partner). For the rest of Vees he's smart enough to listen to him but at the same time he's their cringefail naurospicy bestie. Add all of those perspectives together and you have yourself a multidimensional character that can interact with other elements of the narrative in vastly different ways. Also, from that point you can build up, asking yourself other questions "What would they think/do/say?".

Also, the last thing: every character needs a clear goal that influences all their decision. Choose it and always keep it in mind. Bonus points: a character has two main goals that are contradictory. When I write Vox he has two goal: power and adoration. He always has to choose which one is more important to him because while he has measures to achieve great power, some things that he would want to do are socially undesirable. In Valentino's case: hedonistic pleasure and immediate gratification vs love for Vox that demands sacrifices and compromises.

So anyway I hope that will be helpful to you <3 And don't be too hard on yourself when it comes to writing, not everything must be Game of Thrones. Especially in fandom spaces, sometimes we all want to indulge in some simple fluff or crack.

[lutawolf]

Be My Favorite

I don't think the depth is being explored in Be My Favorite as I think it should be, or maybe it's me just overthinking it.

For me, it seems pretty clear that Pisaeng has feelings for Kawee early on. What I adore most, is that it's truly capturing that confusion that most of us queer go through. That, I don't like him/her, I just want to be friends. That internalized moments of slowly understanding yourself.

Then, as they start to spend time together, he truly falls. It becomes more than a crush.

Now Kawee... I see a lot of opinions that are so different from mine, to the point that I wonder if we are watching the same thing.

Kawee is an emotionally detached introvert. What does that even mean, Luta? These introverts are trauma based introverts who experienced detachment at a very early age. Usually a combination of loss of a significant family member, bullying, and social isolation from peers due to money and ect.

This is very apparent in his childish maturity. He is smart, but he lacks the maturity to get things done, see the big picture, set long term goals, or understand repercussions. We notice a slow maturing with society exposure, because honestly, friendships and experiences are part of the bases for emotional growth. That whole, learn from your mistakes is really a thing.

I also think that it's due to this that he has the obsession of Pear. It's more like a goal and a comfort.

But notice that while he is still going after his goal. His personality changes towards Pisaeng after his return to the future and then once again returning to the past. You have to imagine that some of those feeling of being best friends and maybe even more, lingered. So now we are seeing Kawee battling with his emotions.

Does everyone remember when we first meet Kawee in the classroom. Notice that Kawee is much more familiar and comfortable with females? Even though he hasn't fully bridged the gap of introvert, he is in communication with females and the one friend. I find this important because, in my opinion, Kawee treats Pear as a friend. While he treats Pisaeng the way a female typically treats a potential lover. The way he asks for money, the way he begs for the cute turtle.

It's important to note that neither are showing homophobic tendencies. Kawee clearly has a gay bestie that he adores. They both just haven't found themselves yet, and that's okay. There is the misconception that if you hit college or later and don't realize you are queer that you have internalized homophobia, that's just not true. Take my daughter for instance, both her parents are bisexual, and we're extremely accepting, but it took her awhile to adjust to the fact that her dreams were going to be different from what she initially imagined.

I'm really concerned about the society we are living in, where we are determined to label certain emotions as negative. Like, jealousy, possessiveness, and confusion. We shouldn't because they are naturally occurring emotions. And they teach us about ourselves. They are important to our growth.

Anyway, I'm enjoying the show and I really do think that perhaps it deeper than what most are giving it credit for. Opinions @ellaspore and @bl-bam-beyond

[thehamletdiaries]

Hamlet, in the park, in the pouring rain.

So, Stratford-Upon-Avon has this open air theatre called the Dell, where it puts on plays throughout the summer; they are free for anyone to go watch and they are mostly amateur productions or youth groups or the like. I’d never seen a production there before and didn’t really understand…what it was…which sounds silly but the only open air theatres I’d been to were very much full, built up theatres with seating and a stage and the only difference to any other theatre is they didn’t have a roof.

But I had been to the park that the Dell is in, and I knew it couldn’t be that.

And it isn’t…it’s just a small raised platform, with two tents either side as the wings, and people can bring their own chairs, or sit on the grass, or stand. 

Now, the day I’m headed up there to see this production of Hamlet it was raining. And they had meant to be performing at 12pm and 3pm, but the 12pm performance was cancelled because of the rain. And as we are getting closer and closer to 3pm…it is still very much raining, and pretty heavily. So, I’m checking the website, it’s not saying it’s cancelled…so I head to the park (it’s still very much raining), and I’m walking over wondering if this production is even going ahead - and it did! And with a fairly decent sized audience, all of us sheltering under a tree, many with umbrellas and raincoats (I had neither), and whilst I cannot imagine for a moment it was what the cast would have chosen, the reality of watching it like this was actually sort of wonderful - it was this very communal experience…a way of experiencing Hamlet, together, in this very unique way.

The nature of the theatre also has other quirks; a dog nearly ran on stage at one point, and it’s a public park so people are just walking past having conversations…but you quickly end up embracing that as part of the nature of this kind of performance. People were also taking photos - something I would normally never do during a play - but it felt very natural in this environment and I ended up taking photos too.

The company that put on the production is called Necessary Cat Limited…and other than a facebook page I genuinely cannot find any information about them anywhere, except that they are doing the same production of Hamlet at the Edinburgh Fringe. I don’t really understand whether they are a fully amateur company or sort of semi-professional...I got a programme but it really didn’t give me much more information; all of the actors seemed to have backgrounds that were sort of “semi-professional or somewhat around the theatre world but not quite” - and I couldn’t find any of them on social media either; so really that remains something of a mystery.

The production certainly had an amateur dramatics flavour - which I don’t mean in a negative way *at all*; there is something quite wonderful about that style of performance that I really enjoyed.

All of the actors embodied their roles well, I thought (and a couple were notably impressive…I’ll come to that in a second)...except for Colin Povey as Hamlet. He was…not great, to say the least. I don’t think he was a bad actor, but he was bad at playing the character of Hamlet. The problem was, I think, that he seemed incredibly pleased to be playing Hamlet, which came across as him being incredibly pleased to be Hamlet, and if Hamlet is anything it is not pleased to be himself. There was a slight smirk on his face for almost the whole play - and not in the “Hamlet is roguishly charming sometimes” way, but in a “I am just having a great time and enjoying my life and am very pleased with myself” way - and at times, particularly when he was alone on stage (watching to be or not to be when the performer doesn’t even seem remotely sad is…an odd experience), this…version…of Hamlet was so grating I found myself actively paying attention to the dogs and the passers by and things around me to distract myself because it was just such a grating performance. And honestly, I sort of feel bad talking about this guy who gave us a whole one hour and 45mins long performance in the rain but he was just so wrong for the part.

However, it says something about the pace and the energy of the rest of the cast, and about how this performance was constructed, that I still had a really good time watching a version of Hamlet with a very poorly performed Hamlet.

Because everything else was really quite good.

Firstly, the cutting was excellent; it only ran for an hour and 45mins and somehow did not feel choppy or oddly cut; I noticed a couple of cuts here and there but only because I know the script so well and mostly I couldn’t tell which lines they had gotten rid of at all. They cut the whole Fortinbras plot, which was a sensible move in a version that needed to be shorter and more contained.

The Ophelia actress, Amber Lipman, was wonderful - she brought an intelligence to the role that I feel Ophelia often does not get afforded, whilst also feeling very young, and very used, and very much the victim in a way that made you so angry for her.

The Rosencrantz and Guildenstern actor and actress - Alan Sunter and Caitlin Carter (they played them as two men, just one of the performers happened to be a woman) were also really good; they very much felt like real characters that mattered in their own right and not just as plot devices…which often happens with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; their individual humanities as well as the relationship between the two of them and between them and Horatio was all very evident and really well done.

Also, a fun reality of the stage set up is one of the tents that acted as a wing was completely open; so you could see the actors “backstage” and Sunter and Carter fist bumped after they exited from doing their first scene and it was adorable.

Now, James Scott as Horatio. The thing is…I don’t really see a lot of Horatios that feel like my Horatio. Of course this is a character I am wedded to far more than probably makes rational sense and of course this is going to mean I am far pickier than is particularly reasonable about how Horatio is played…and I really, really loved James Scott’s performance. He captured that Horatio is complicated; that Horatio is a human caught in this absolutely mad situation; he captured how much Horatio cares…not just about Hamlet, but about Ophelia too, and about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He captured how Horatio is trying to do the right thing and to help and feels so out of place at court and just doesn’t quite know what to do but also can’t really quite bring himself to try and stop Hamlet because he loves and trusts him too much not to follow him…until it’s too late.

He understood all of that.

And he managed to perform all of that whilst acting opposite a Hamlet who, not to repeat the point, was not a good Hamlet at all. I would love to be able to see Scott play Horatio again opposite a Hamlet actor who was worthy of his performance.

There were also some really nice aspects to how Horatio was included in the play; for a start he was just included in a lot of it…he’s there for the whole of the Ophelia madness scene, not just the first part, they had him delivering letters from Hamlet to other characters in place of the side character who normally does it, which I liked; he generally felt very present and I’m always here for more Horatio.

Without being too heavy handed about it, they weaved in far more of a relationship between Horatio and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern than you get to see in most productions; little details like them talking together before and during the Mousetrap play…but then having Horatio immediately go to Hamlet’s side as soon as it moved into the play upon my pipe scene; that reality that these four were all friends, and Horatio was still going to hold those relationships in his heart in some way…but also was never going to side with anyone but Hamlet when it came down to it; I loved how that was done.

And I loved the care he showed Ophelia and that dynamic was just so well played.

There was this beautiful moment, after Ophelia has first come on stage and is mad, when she had gone off stage, followed by Horatio, and the two actors were sorting out the flowers for her to come back on with (they also had Horatio come on with a flower in his hair which was a nice touch), and they were doing this in the tent where you could see everything and they were talking and clearly joking with each other and for a moment I basically stopped watching the play because instead I was watching what felt like this beautiful tableau of Horatio and Ophelia just hanging out and having a nice time and it was lovely and sweet and beautiful…I had a lot of emotions in that moment.

They rather strangely cut Horatio trying to kill himself at the end; genuinely not sure why.

They did, however, have Osric (the Guildenstern actress doubled as Osric and she played them differently enough to make that work) hold Laertes in his arms as he died so…here are some pictures for all you Osric/Laertes shippers out there.

At the end I went up to James Scott and said something along the lines of “I just wanted to say that Horatio is a character that means so much to me and I so rarely get to see him in a way that feels true to him and you really did that and thank you”...or something along those lines; this sounds very silly but I was amazed I managed to get through saying that to him without crying because at that point I genuinely was so moved and had so many feelings about everything he brought to and embodied about my Horatio.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

The Mafia Princess Part VII: The Jacket

Update time! Sorry for the slow posting time on this one, but I wanted to take my time and not rush it since we're really getting to the good parts now! I hope you guys are enjoying this story!

Mafia Princess Masterpost

AO3 Link

Winning Result: Go with Desi to get a new outfit/jacket bought for her.

Reminder: The poll for the next chapter will be under the read more at the bottom of the post!

---

“I guess… a new outfit would be nice,” Elsa slowly said, not really sure if it was the right choice or not, but she figured she could always make a break for it and run if she needed to. He may have been a mafia boss, but he was still recovering from getting shot at a bunch of times, after all. She could outrun him. 

Desi gave her a smile that looked pretty normal before he was looking past her and raising his hand into the air, almost like he was doing that thing in movies when people waved down a taxi. “Alright. My men will pick us up just around the corner of this block, out-of-sight of all your classmates.”

“Thanks,” Elsa said, surprised he would actually care about what it would do to her already dead social life to be seen getting picked up in a suspicious black car by a bunch of men in suits. “So… you’re really okay? Because that was a lot of blood.” 

“I’ve been through worse.” Huh. Should that impress her or scare her? At the moment it was doing a little of both, if she was being honest. “You handled the situation well yourself, though. Experience?”

“I’m just that good,” Elsa said, pretending she hadn’t had a couple nightmares about all the blood and that she was perfectly fine and able to handle herself. 

Somehow, the look he gave her made her feel like he knew what was going on in her head and that he realized just how terrifying it had all been. She wasn’t sure if she liked that. Someone looking at her and honestly seeming like they got it. She was used to just pity, at that point. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to say anything else, the two walking around the corner and Desi opening a door for her and guiding her into the back of the car. Now that she wasn’t in shock, she could see how expensive it was. It looked like the same one from yesterday, at least, minus any blood stains. 

The seats were made of black leather, though, so possibly it had just been cleaned really well. Who the hell made car seats with leather, anyways? Leather furniture was so uncomfortable! Plus all of the adults with it just ended up covering it with some kind of plastic- Okay. She was getting off-track. 

The point was that she was in a fancy car that was expensive enough to have the two seat rows that faced each other with a mini-fridge installed underneath the back row seat, the one she was sitting across. 

There was only one other guy in the car with them, the same one from yesterday that had spoken to her and taken her to the hospital, and he must have noticed her staring because he asked, “You want a drink, little miss?”

“I think it’s illegal to offer a twelve-year-old a drink,” Elsa said without thinking, which seemed to be a really common theme lately. Maybe she had been cursed. Before she could apologize and try to not get shot, the fridge was opened and there was a water bottle being held out to her with a very flat sort of look being shot her way. “Oh.” Elsa took the bottle. “Yeah. That, uh, makes more sense, I guess.” 

She heard that huffing breath of laughter, looking to Desi who was sitting next to who she guessed must have been Scotty. It was nice that neither of them was sitting beside her and gave her some space, even with as weird as everything was. “Well, there are a few different places we can take you to get that outfit. What sort of clothes do you often wear? What you are now?”

Elsa glanced down without even thinking about it. She wasn’t dressed in much besides some black jeans and a generic band t-shirt that was so faded she couldn’t even make out the name of the band. Elsa looked back at him. “I’m a foster kid. We wear what we can get.” Alright. That had been a little rude, she guessed. She also didn’t want to dive down into her foster kid woes and look like some kind of beggar or, worse, owe any kind of debts. “If it’s alright, I… really just want the jacket I had replaced.”

“Was it special to you?” Desi’s tone was a little kinder, something similar to pity, but not quite as condescending. It was nicer. 

“Sort of?” Elsa shrugged, looking away to instead fiddle with her water bottle and get it open. “I had been outgrowing it anyway so it basically didn’t fit anymore, but it was a gift.” 

A glance up showed that Desi was giving her his full attention and looking interested in what she was saying, and Scotty was looking out the window to where she couldn’t tell if he was making it seem like he wasn’t listening or actually wasn’t listening. Somehow, she felt herself wanting to say more. 

“It was a birthday gift from an older foster sibling I had a couple years ago. We didn’t even keep in contact and he left the system probably over a year ago now, but the jacket was still mine, you know? We weren’t exactly close, but it was mine.” It looked like he got it, but just to drive home the point she added on quietly, “You don’t get gifts much in the system. You don’t get things that are yours in the system.” 

The three of them sort of sat there quietly, Desi finally raising his voice, “Aidano?” He seemed to be talking to the driver, Elsa looking back to see they were actually driving. She hadn’t even felt the car move from where she and Desi had first gotten in. “The usual clothing place.” 

It was hard with how twisted around she was, but she was pretty sure she saw Scotty and Aidano both share some kind of look that probably meant something. “So, Elsa.” Desi smiled at her, still acting like he was talking to someone interesting. “If you could have your dream jacket, what would it look like?”

Well. If she had already shared her tragic backstory, she might as well go all the way, right? With that in mind, she took a sip of water before she closed the bottle and then moved her backpack to rest between her legs before opening it and, after shoving the bottle inside, pulling out her most recent sketchbook. She hadn’t been working in it much, so it was pretty beat up. Still, she knew exactly which page to flip to. 

“I guess my dream jacket would be something like this?” Elsa held out the sketchbook, letting Desi take it and feeling a burst of pride when the big time mafia boss looked impressed at her drawing. 

“You designed this?” Designed? Big word for just drawing a cool looking jacket, but she’d take the compliment. 

“Yup,” Elsa said, even more gleeful when she saw Scotty, who had still been pretending to not hear anything, snuck a glance over and looked impressed himself. “Drawing is cheap, easy, and fun, so it makes for a good hobby. I can’t exactly get clothes easy, since, you know, I’m twelve, so I just drew what I wanted. So I guess if I could have a dream jacket, it would be like that.”

“You’re got talent here, kid. It looks good.” Heh. She was pretty good, wasn’t she? She was pretty glad though that he decided to not flip around to other pages like other people would when she showed them a drawing. 

A voice from behind her startled her before she realized it was just the driver. “We’re here, sir.” 

“Thank you, Aidano.” Looking back to her, Desi smiled. “I think we can do something about getting you a good jacket.” 

With that he was opening the door and getting out of the car, still with her sketchbook in his hand, she noticed, and gesturing for her to follow. She glanced at Scotty, who just raised an eyebrow back like he was waiting on her. “Alright, alright,” Elsa grumbled, sliding over before getting out of the car, making sure to grab her backpack and take it with her. 

She barely got on the sidewalk before Desi was walking into a store, Elsa quick to follow and then immediately stopping when she got inside because whoa. It looked like one of those high-end tailoring places people in movies got their clothes from when they were rich. Bolts of fabric were lined up against the upper walls and everything was made of polished wood and curved edges. It looked sleek, cool, and expensive. 

Desi was walking up to the counter where someone in a fancy vest and suit pants was standing, a tape measure slung over their shoulders to really drive in the point she was somewhere where people made the clothes for a person specifically. Elsa followed him, but she was slow enough she could sneak some looks at some of the mannequins that did have outfits on them. She didn’t see any prices, and she definitely knew what that meant. 

Desi and the guy seemed to know each other, going by how warmly they said hi, and Elsa made sure to give it a couple minutes before she joined them at the desk, especially with how serious they looked to be after the initial hellos. It gave her time to look at some of the clothing more, already thinking up ideas for next time she drew.

When she finally got to the desk, Desi spared her a quick smile. “Matthew, this is Elsa,” Desi introduced, Elsa waving at Matthew because this was a very expensive store and she wanted to be on good behavior considering she already looked like she didn’t shop in places like this. Ever. “Like I was telling you, her jacket got ruined while she was helping me out and we’re here to get her a new one. I even got a reference photo for you this time around.” 

Her sketchbook was laid on the table and Elsa felt absolutely mortified that a professional designer was looking at her doodle of a jacket she thought would look good on her. “Oh! Did you draw this?” Matthew looked at her and looked impressed. “This is incredible work! I can tell you like designing, and your pallet to the side here shows a good sense of color.” 

“Oh. Thank you,” Elsa said even as she mentally scolded herself for doubting her skills because, obviously, she was a god at drawing and should be worshiped as such. 

She didn’t get to say anything else before she was being almost literally swept away and then helped onto a little stand with her arms held out as that measuring tape was used to take her measurements. 

It then hit that she was in a very expensive store getting a jacket custom-made for her and decided she was probably in another dream that she should just go along with. As long as she pretended it was all normal and fine, then it would be, right? 

It at least was interesting watching Matthew work, totally focused but still somehow answering her when she asked a couple questions about what she saw around her. She was really interested in that blue fabric that looked sort of like silk, but also had a really faint glittering pattern to it that looked really cool. 

She wasn’t sure if she was upset or relieved when she was back at Desi’s side at the front counter, her sketchbook being handed back to her and Matthew back at the counter and writing things down in a notebook faster than she ever would be able to. “Alright, since it’s a much smaller order than your usual, we should be ready to have it done and ready for her tomorrow for those final alterations. Some time after two, at most.”

She didn’t get to ask any final questions about how her jacket would look at the end before Desi was touching her shoulder just enough to steer her back towards the door, Elsa passing by another woman who had entered and, okay, fair enough, Matthew had work to do. She’d just get her questions answered tomorrow, anyways- Ah. Right.

“So,” Elsa said once they were outside, Scotty following them from where he had been standing by the door for probably the whole time. Seemed like a mafia thing to do. “We’re… coming back tomorrow?”

Desi chuckled and took something from his pocket before holding it out, Elsa shifting her grip on her sketchbook to take a white business card. It looked like it was for the store behind her, the name and address and everything printed on it. Flipping it over, she was surprised to see a number actually written in ink on the back. 

“You can come back yourself tomorrow and get it, no need to worry about strange men picking you up from school again.” Oh, thank god. “Payment is all taken care of, too, so all you need to do is pick it up and make sure it fits.” 

Elsa nodded, playing with the edge of the card before holding it up. “And the number is…?” 

“Just in case you need it.” Alright. Cryptic, but she could guess from that much at least that it was probably his. Probably. “Now. If you’d like we can give you a ride back home or even just back to the school. If you’d rather, there’s a bus stop just across the street, too.” 

Hm. For being a big time mafia boss, he sure gave her a lot of free will to make her own choices before just going along with them. It was better than just being told what to do like in every other aspect of her life. “I guess…”

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

Harrisco prompt: ""I'm going to punch that guy." and First time

This was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it! (Ao3 link below.) * * * What No One Else Sees by QuietDarkness * * *

No one saw Harry as a level-headed man. He wasn’t someone who historically kept his cool. He knew that about himself. He wasn’t oblivious to his own awkwardness or his lack of socially acceptable reactions to people in general. But if he were being completely honest, he really didn’t care. He didn’t have time to waste on niceties or small talk. He didn’t give a shit if someone got their feelings hurt because they couldn’t handle his blunt demeanor. And he was certainly not going to change how he navigated the world just to save face with strangers he was most likely never going to see again. Ramon liked to say that Harry had the social prowess of a jalapeño. Of course, that had only confused Harry at first until Cisco explained that he happened to like jalapeño’s. For whatever reason, Cisco Ramon was able to accept everything about Harry that no one else seemed to. Something of which Harry was incredibly appreciative and grateful for. Cisco was better than Harry in every way. The way he saw the world added color to Harry’s own. He was kind and funny, joyous and dedicated, beyond beautiful and habitually finding ways to make Harry feel a little happier every single day just by being himself. He had a strength Harry loved to witness, and a way of being patient with him that no one else had ever mastered. Besides Jesse, Ramon was literally the epicenter of Harry’s world. Even before they’d started dating, he’d been that way. It had been love at first sight for Harry, not that he’d ever believed in those sort of things. But he’d been incomprehensibly misunderstanding of what happiness really was until Cisco Ramon had come into his life. It had been more than a little shocking that Cisco was attracted to him in return. After all, what could Ramon possibly see in Harry’s grumpy, neurodivergent, classically harsh, often self-loathing and hot tempered self? ‘That’s not all you are.’ Ramon had said. ‘And I happen to find all of you irresistible.’ Hearing Cisco say that had made Harry choke on his own coffee. Exactly five minutes and twenty seven seconds after Harry had figured out how to breathe again, Ramon asked him out. At first, Harry had thought he’d been joking. But Cisco had seemed very adamant. ‘Enough is enough, Harry. We are going on a date and you’re not saying no.’ He literally left no room for argument. They’d grabbed food from Big Belly Burger, sat on the roof of the labs, and spent hours talking. Then kissing. Then both. Now that they were on date number three, sitting in a far fancier restaurant than Harry was used to, he was fairly certain it wasn’t a joke after all. In fact, Harry was certain they were both on the same exact page. They each wanted this with each other, despite all the ways they were opposites. Nothing felt forced or intimidating. Everything felt increasingly more wonderful as each day went on. Harry was impossibly in love with that ridiculous man. And, though neither of them had actually said it, he thought maybe Cisco felt the same way about him. It was why he could almost forgive the fact that tonight, their waiter -a tall, handsome young man about Ramon’s age, had been haplessly trying to flirt with Cisco since they’d sat down. Ramon kept being polite, but apparently he and Harry must not look like they were actually on a date. That was something Harry had noticed from the very beginning. No one saw Harry as an option in Cisco’s world… except for Cisco... (Continued on Ao3. Please see link below.)

[fleabagoflowers]

Anna

One of the first genuine memories I have of us is knowing who you were before ever meeting you. I remember the teacher taking attendance in the first day of class and a new name popping up: Anna. Even though I didn’t remember ever meeting you, I knew that name. And in a way, I felt a certain ownership over you. When you arrived and became best friends with someone else I was immensely jealous. It was probably the first time I ever felt jealousy in my life. We eventually became friends that same year, but I still wasn’t your priority, your bestest friend. I was all but a spare, a second best friend. I knew, nonetheless, deep down, I would prevail, we would prevail and become the bestest of friends. And that we did. The years in which we were best friends were some of the most incredible of my whole life. So amazing that I blocked out who I was before them. Before you. I simply denied such a joyless existence because you were everything to me. My source of joy, comfort and inspiration, but also of approval and validation. So many times, the one thing that made me feel not like a total reject was being your friend. You were always so easygoing and likeable, everybody just loved you and wanted to be with you or just around you. And never having had that, I took some pride in having more of you than anyone else. - Enjoy her while you can, because she’s MY best friend, MY person in this world, in the end she’ll always turn back to me. - And our ordeal was perfect for the time it lasted. But then, it started to dissipate. Slowly, but steadily like thick smoke. You got a boyfriend. I remember the exact feeling I had when you told me. Dread. I knew that nothing would be the same after that day. And I was right, it never was. We were still best friends for a whole year after that, but I wasn’t your person anymore, he was. There was suddenly this enormously significant part of your life that I not only knew nothing about but also couldn’t take any part in. We prevailed for a while nonetheless and, after the initial shock, we fell into a lovely routine: you and me. And him. But then we graduated from school and the unescapable everyday meetings were gone and so were we. It’s funny, I always imagined I’d lose touch with some friends from school after we left it, I just never pictured it’d be you I lost. Realistically, there is no one to blame apart from ourselves. It wasn’t him or any of our other friends and neither of us are so busy that it would be an impediment to the survival of our friendship (even though you like to pretend you are that busy). We just drifted apart. Lost our connection. It seems you just don’t care that much and I’m too proud to admit to you that I care this much. This made rethink our whole relationship. Maybe we never had that much in common. Looking back I actually don’t think we did. I overly obsess about things so quickly and you are casual about every single interest you ever harboured over anything. You’re very much into your looks and establishing a social media persona that you deem worthy and you judge people so much and therefore expect people to also judge you as much as you judge them and I want to remain as far away as possible from this type of twisted perspective on interpersonal relationships. I was never really comfortable opening up to you and yet you loved to dump your problems on me. It feels like everything you do is so effortless and you’re such a natural and all I ever do is try, try and try. I always imagined you and I would remain friends forever and in 10, 15, 20 years would look back at our life together and rejoice in it and be able to tell everyone how we’ve known our best friend for over 20 years and how cool and exciting and movie like that is, but maybe what will happen is we’ll both separately remember each other and, in 20 years when looking at old photos of our time together, we’ll wonder what went wrong and what would have happened if we’d remained the number 1 person in each others lives like we were for the most marvellous years.

[locustheologicus]

The Legacy of Ana Gonzalez

I have been on a cerebral kick lately contemplating ethics and social ministry but this weekend I felt like taking a break from that and going on a personal reflection. On March 14, 2014 my grandmother passed away. I grew up in a household where I was the only child but my grandmother Ana was with us the entire time so I grew up in a household of four. At the time she passed away I was learning about Latino/a theology so I took the time back then to reflect on her wisdom then in this other post. She passed away ten years ago and now that the year is almost over I find myself thinking about who she was and what she meant to me.

Of all the people in my family I was probably with her the most yet knew her the least. She never really talk much about her past, her family, her beliefs, hardly anything. I remember her being a very kind and loving person, while my parents where at work she was the one who took care of me and tended to me as a child. I recall taking long walks with her when I was very young in New Rochelle and then watching a few TV programs together after we moved to Endicott (three's company stand out as a show that she enjoyed watching with me in the early 1980's). I fondly remember how she would always wake me up with an herbal tea she would make almost every morning. Beyond these moments however there was little interaction between us.

As I became a teenager I felt that she was a staunch ally of my father (who I was struggled with at that age). My father attempted to limit many of my actions and freedoms because he percieved them as misdeeds. If I was not doing assignments that he gave me or schoolwork I must be doing some mischief. I felt betrayed by my grandmother at that age because I became aware that she would report any actions or freedoms to my father when he was not around. My ally became my own mother who defended me from my father, this set up a dysfunctioning household where the two men struggled to culturally define who we were and the mothers would back up their own son. This was the life that defined us until I left for college and eventually (when I realized that the household was dysfunctional in this way) I uprooted and left for Chicago to become a Franciscan volunteer and discern religious life. I would learn decades later that neither of my parents understood what I was doing and they both blamed each other for my departure. In the meantime my Grandmother would be found doing simple things like tending to her garde which she seemed to enjoy doing.

My grandmother was a simple and faith filled person. My initial post shares some of her religious wisdom. But she seemed to keep much to herself and the past always remaind hidden. She had a picture of my grandfather in her room next to the bible and cross she always kept but she never really talked about him. She would join us in whatever outings we had and would enjoy whatever activity she could but as I grew older I felt that there was a great amount of hidden depth that she choose not to reveal.

I wrote about my grandfather in a former post and much of that information I was able to get from the uncles and aunts I had from his first marriage. It seemed that my grandfather never loved my grandmother in the same way he loved his first wife and it also felt that the children of the first marriage never quite fully accepted my grandmother and the children she bore him which includes my Father, my aunt Victoria who lives in Boston and my aunt Cecilia who apperently did not like my grandmother and left for Venezuela at an early age, I never knew her but evidently she still lives.

The most I could get from my grandmother was that she worked in some bodega in Soacha Colombia, a bodega my grandfather would frequent. She came from a very poor family and I believe she was never literate or educated. From what I understand, my grandfather was open to marrying her in order to have someone take care of the younger children so for him this was a marriage of convenience. By the time she got to know him he had spiraled downward and the few stories I heard from her was that he was a stern man who enjoyed going to the bar but was livid if anyone bothered him. I do not get the sense of a loving relationship from her, what is curious is that it seems that her daughters felt closer to their father (my grandfather) than to her. My father would attest to my grandfather being a stern and strict man but he had some positive memories as well which again, my grandmother never shared.

And yet, she was always present. She may not have added her narrative to our family (which I think is a shame) but she was always present in the moment as we grew and celebrated together. As I may have mentioned before, my parents were immigrant anchors for members of their family and this included my aunt Victoria (see here with her future husband Jerry) and my grand uncle Luis who is seen here standing with me and my grandmother.

One revealing lesson I did receive from my grandmother was when my parents went through a phase of arguing and fighting. I was in elementary school and at that time it made me feel very sad and depressed. My grandmother revealed to me that when she was a little girl she suffered great anxieties when her family yelled and fought. She would then tell me that she copped with it by running outside the house until they stopped fighting, and then everything would be fine. I remember thinking that was odd and I never ended up taking her advice. I needed to process why people fought and what the issue was. I would eventually realize that the biggest issue my family had was that no one listened to each other. As I grew older and observed how they argued I realized that each person would argue from their own position alone and sometimes what my father was yelling about had nothing to do with what my mother’s issue. It felt like running around in circles was how they all copped with their feelings which did not strike me as very healthy.

The deeper I dug the more I felt felt conflicted with my grandmother’s identity. As a child I exerienced my grandmother as a loving and caring person but as a teen I realized her devotion to my father was based on how dependent she was to him. I thought this may have caused some of the unease she had with her other children. As for that devotion, I think it might have come from some deep insecurity. My grandmother did not seem to have the capacity for personal security so she may have latched on to whoever she felt would provide her with the security and stability she was not capable of attaining on her own. In many ways she lived a very comfortable life in my father's household. When I became a young adult I saw that my mother struggled to not have a one on one relationship with my father because my grandmother was always at his side (when he wasn't working or playing tennis). During this time we tried to get her to spend some time with my Aunt in Boston who was raising my cousin. My grandmother would cry and beg not to go and my father was also eager to have her brought back.

In some ways I feel that my grandmother was a lost soul. I am curious to know what it must have been for her before marrying my grandfather but once she was married I think she lived a dependant life, first with my grandfather and then with my father. From 2010 on it was apparent how co-dependant my father and her were, as my grandmother got feeble so to did my father who developed parkinsons/dementia. Both my mom and I knew that was my grandmother would pass away my father would not last. Sure enough, he died within a year of her passing.

I wish I knew more, I wish she was able to share the struggles that she went through. My grandmother was deeply religious but her spirituality was a passive one. For her any form of suffering or struggle was something you offer up to God and then kept as a secret that needed to be erased. Towards the end of her life she was tormented by two imaginary small children that seemed to tease her. She would complain about almost falling and when I asked about it she mentioned that these two mischievious children were teasing her and trying to trip her up. We had no idea what she was on about or what this meant. It was later suggested that she had more then the three children I knew. It appears that she had two other children who were either sickly or became sick. It is unclear what became of them. It sounds like these children may have died but it is also suggested that they were abandoned.

We live is such a different time and cultural context that it is shocking to think what terrible decisions people in poverty have to make. I personally believe that struggles cannot be thought of as a personal or family embarrassment that needs to be kept a secret. We need to learn and appreciate the struggles and difficulties of our lives in order to appreciate what others go through. It is because of this that I work to assist marginalized migrant communities who struggle to achieve their own security and stability in this world. I dedicate some of my work to her memory and to the memory of what she went through. My grandmother may have kept her secret with her, but I will make it a point to reconcile my grandmother’s struggles through the struggles of those I serve. May these familes and my grandmother find some kind of peace, either in this world or the next.

[starcrossedkayla]

I'm autistic adult who learned I was autistic after my son was diagnosed with autism at 17 months, so he had fairly severe delays. It runs in my family, although neither of my parents were ever diagnosed and us siblings weren't diagnosed until adulthood, after our children had been.

In addition to family members, I've also got a lot of autistic friends, and help other people get their children evaluated and diagnosed.

Autism can present in a lot of different ways. For many of us, eye contact is really intense, which is why we usually avoid it, especially in emotional circumstances. It doesn't bother me to look at my loved ones' eyes; I quite enjoy it, but I also look at their eyes seeing the parts more than the whole, if that makes any sense. If Severus is using eye contact to perform Legilimency, which Harry believes he is at times, then I imagine that wouldn't be a problem for him at all because the eye contact will be task focused, and it wouldn't be so emotionally overwhelming.

Approach to romance and sexuality varies, just as it does with neurotypical people. Sometimes disabled people are infantilized, or our sexuality doesn't look the same as it would for the non-disabled, so people read us as asexual when we aren't. I absolutely can HC Severus as asexual, aromantic, etc, but I can also see him as someone with a very high sex drive, just with a lot of control.

We absolutely can and do hold grudges, but often not for the same reason neurotypical people do. For example, if a person is routinely unfair, we will usually dislike that person much more than a neurotypical person would. What happened at Hogwarts was not fair, in any sense of the word, and Severus would've been absolutely bitter about that.

People breaking the rules and not being punished, despite others being punished for breaking those same rules would've driven him mad.

My autistic son gets along with girls way more than boys and, like most autistic people, doesn't care about socially imposed gender division. My son is not interested in sports and, unfortunately, boys who are good at sports are usually allowed to get away with all sorts of things that other children are not.

I haven't seen a lot of posts on how hierarchical male social structures tend to be, but in the wizarding world, that seems turned up to 11. Lupin assumes that Severus was jealous of James's Quidditch talent, as most neurotypical boys would be, but I imagine that autistic Severus just thought the whole thing was stupid.

Special interests also can come and go depending on the person. Harry Potter was a special interest of mine and, when it left, I didn't touch anything to do with Harry Potter for over a decade. I'm back in the fandom now as I finish a fic I abandoned back then, but it's not a special interest to me like it was back then.

Because of masking, autistic people can appear almost like two different people when they are in different roles. We couldn't believe how my dad's coworkers described him because he was an entirely different man at work. I act very differently at work compared to home. Severus lives in his work, which makes masking all the more challenging and difficult. Plus, Severus is a spy and Potions Master Severus Snape is a role.

I can imagine that, after the war, Severus might act in a very different way than he had before, especially within the privacy of his home.

I am currently reading a book on Asperger Syndrome, and boy do I see Severus in there. It’s complicated to explain but such books are very useful to finally put into words the subtilities of autism (particularly autism with high IQ).

I’ve just realized that Severus’ drama—as in, his tendency to resemble an actor playing a theatre play, which we witness at least four times in a spectacular way (when meeting lily, in his first potions lesson, his meeting with bellatrix and narcissa (such presence!), his first defense lesson) and many other times as a habit, could be his way to manage social settings. He, as an actor, can wear the mask of the person he wishes to be: the boy who introduces lily to magic and of whom she’s not afraid, so they can become friends like in a fairy tale (and boy did it fail); the potions master who turns potions into poetics; the dark arts and defense expert who can show off his mastery and love for the subject. There is no double interaction, only he as the focus of attention, in his element, planning and playing a scene, and the spectators, silent but admirative (hopefully). He is in some way in control. Though of course it all crashes down some time later.

His devotion to a childhood friend seems also very innocent, idealistic, romantic like autistic people love. His Patronus became a doe, very beautiful and quite harmless.

The clothes he is wearing, all for comfort and to drive away potential enemies, because he knows he is vulnerable under the shell. It must also be incredibly soothing for sensitivity to touch stimuli.

Occlumency as a shield to protect his psychological/mental vulnerability.

His need to speak softly and for the class to be silent, a blessing against sensorial overdrive—school must be hell otherwise. His emotional collapses throughout the years.

How he never fit, how while lily was in a group of popular girl friends and the marauders constituted the group of popular jocks, he was unpopular and visibly lonely at best, a lapdog to groom at worst with illusions of love and protection. He is the obvious, easy target for bullying, and of course the teachers will prefer the more social, flamboyant, shining bullies over the hopeless victim.

He is abandoned and betrayed by everyone, his teachers, his friend, the death eaters, until he decides he doesn’t want to be hurt anymore and thus becomes hostile, attacks first so he can protect/defend himself.

And of course, he is used to and willing to abandon having a social life, all ideas of having friends, and that comes useful when as a spy in his last year. Although he can still feel lonely, since that loneliness wasn’t entirely by choice at first.

The way he blames himself for fucking up his friendships and probably his whole life (internalized guilt common to autistic people).

His devotion to protect people.

The friendship with lily that is "intense" and blends between fraternality, friendship and romance.

His heavy link with femininity (he’s quite androgynous), his soft (although strict) ways to live, his affinity for women over men (men who do abuse him a lot). His interest for poetry, the fine ways to speak, the delicate and subtle science of potionmaking (which breaks stereotypes of men who must be talented in physical subjects such as quidditch or "foolish wandwaving").

His unkept body (greasy hair, sallow skin, probably underweight, yellow finger and yellow crooked teeth), which stems from 1) poor self esteem thus poor self care, 2) not knowing how to take care of himself further than the basics, 3) it’s very tiring and why would he care? Intellect >>> physical appearance (a typical thought for autistic neurodivergents).

I don’t know, it’s all about those details and the character they contruct that appeal to you as neurodivergent. Little things that could be caused by anything else but that are striking for someone who knows where it all comes from.

Ah, and autism is comorbid with social anxiety and depression (wink wink sneep)

I might try to build a case for Snape as very probably autistic in the future.

[y0imyas]

[ tartaglia / childe ; capture you ]

synopsis ; being in a secret relationship with ajax, both of you relatively successful streamers always had it's perks. teasing each other over the screen in a constant was one of them though you both particularly enjoyed testing your limits on a secret nsfw content account.

disclaimers ; fembodied!reader / no pronouns used ; called mommy once (as a joke) ; switch!reader & ajax ; no protection mentioned ; pet names (sweetheart, my love, baby) ; oral (fem receiving) ; fingering (both receiving) ; recording and watching it ; overstimulation ; coming inside ; dirty talk ; slight dacryphilia ?

mdni !

my requests are open !!

wc ; 3,3k

a/n ; my longest work so far! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i love this one, personally i think i did a great job with it. would love to read your thoughts and feedback on it !

the sexual tension whenever you and ajax were streaming always has been high. 

everyone on social media would always talk about this whenever you two decided to do a stream together. always, you would tell the people asking that, no, you were only two really good friends.

“we‘ve been streaming for the past four hours“, ajax yawned. “i think we should wrap up soon, no?”

“nahh, i‘m not even a little tired“, you replied, rolling your eyes over the camera. “i can play around like this all day, son.”

“well i—”, ajax started to reply, as his brain finally processed what you just called him. „oh, shut the fuck up. don‘t ever fucking call me that.“ you guys would constantly cuss at each other— it was normal for the both of you now and neither would feel offended over it, especially when you were on stream. 

“what are you going to do about it, son?”, you smirked. the viewers seemed to like that, comments were just flowing in. “you’re on your side of the camera and i am on mine. what are you going to do about it?”

“oh, you know exactly what i’m going to do about it, sweetheart.”

ajax chuckled, his laugh was rather deep as he shook his head in disbelief. you usually knew better than to talk back to him, where was this confidence suddenly coming from?

“don’t play around with me. and don’t call me that shit ever again. unless… do you have a mommy kink or something, mommy?”, he said, the moment you looked into his eyes on your screen you know you’re fucked. literally. the way he called you mommy but at the same time was eyeing you. exactly what you were hoping for. you really needed him to fuck you stupid for a few days now but you couldn’t think of how to initiate it. so, the easiest way was to rile him up until he snaps himself. 

once again, the chat went insane as he called you mommy. comments were flowing in and you could barely follow it. this was one of the moments where people liked to consider you two were dating.

“me? having a mommy kink? didn’t you recently say that you would love to have your partner tease you until you’re crying?” you knew he did mention something like that to you, though you weren’t sure if it was on one of your countless streams together or in private. 

the chat still went batshit crazy about it, though no one suspected a thing about this one. they knew how ajax was at times, this was no different from his usual self. 

you two chatted a little bit longer and thanked the chat for the nice stream before both of you ended your stream. 

“‘what am i going to do about it?’ huh? i want my partner to tease me until i’m crying?”, he startled you as he suddenly appeared behind you, your camera still on and showing him right behind you on your screen. ajax brushed your hair away from your neck, softly caressing the soft skin before he leaned down a little and planted a soft kiss right under your ear. “you know exactly what i will do about it, darling, don’t you?” 

now, the thing with you and ajax was, no one knew you two were living together, let alone dating, except for a few close friends of yours. especially your viewers just thought you were very close friends– which was the case up until around a year ago, when you ended up meeting multiple times and things quickly turned into more. 

you just never bothered to tell anyone you were dating. to be honest, you liked the secrecy and putting up an act in front of people, just to go to your bed and cuddle– or have the most insane fuck of your life. 

“mhm, i do, baby, i do. i just love to see you all riled up”, you replied, closing your eyes at the sweet kisses he pampered on your skin. he tsked in disappointment, making you open your eyes and look at him on the screen, where he was looking at you intensely. the way made you shiver and feel your heart racing, excited of how he was going to fuck you tonight, right on the bed behind your chair. 

shortly after and despite his oh, so confident self during the stream, he was the one laying on his back, with a long pillow under his hips for him to grab on. he was whining and moaning out loudly and desperately as you moved your hand up and down his cock fast while you had two fingers stretching out his hole, fingering him. he was so far gone that all he could babble was your name. his entire body was twitching in pleasure, especially after that first orgasm. 

“shh, not so loud, baby, you’re going to disturb the neighbors”, you said to him with a condescending tone, you were talking to him so sweetly and with a big smile on your lips. ajax rolled his eyes back, he never was one who could easily handle overstimulation and your sweet voice wasn’t helping him at all. 

“shut up”, he moaned, grabbing the sheets tightly as he felt his orgasm wash over him, he was shaking so much and your hand and even sleeves were covered in his cum. you slowed down your fingers’ movements, having him ride out the last few moments of his release before you pulled your fingers out. 

ajax’ cheeks were completely red, you could even see a few drops of tears on them and he was still trembling. “oh, you are absolutely in for it now, sweetheart”, he breathed out, his voice was a little shaky but he looked so adorable right now. the little giggle you both let out warmed your heart; despite him trying to act oh, so pissed off with you. he just needed a few more moments. 

you decided to lay down on the pillows waiting for him to come down from his high. there you noticed how the camera and your pc’s screen was still on and you two were on there, though the camera was not recording. “babe?”, you said, looking at him with a grin. when he turned his head towards you, finally calm again, you pointed at your screen and the camera. he smirked and nodded, understanding what you meant. you grinned in excitement as you quickly got up and turned on the camera for recording, you just quickly adjusted it’s view to have it turned perfectly at you two.

now, not only were you two relatively successful streamers on twitch, you both also would regularly post videos of you fucking on a secret account on twitter. you would always make sure your faces weren’t visible or blurred out. 

the secrecy was something both you and ajax enjoyed way too much– be it about being a couple or having a secret nsfw account– it was always so much fun for you two to experiment the limits you could share online without being recognized. 

once you were back on the bed, you tried your best to adjust the other camera on the nightstand that would be able to capture your reactions of how he fucked you deeply and hard. the followers on twitter might not see those, but it was always nice for the both of you to keep those hidden in your folders on your pc. 

he was all over you, grinding his hips against yours as you started making out. he was kissing you deeply as you had your arms wrapped around him, he was softly biting your bottom lip, making you both smile a little. 

it didn’t take him too long until he had your clothes off and thrown away somewhere in the room and was leaning over you, softly circling your clit with two of his fingers before he thrusted them up into your cunt. 

your eyes widened when he suddenly grabbed your thigh with his other hand and pushed your legs further apart. 

you knew you had him riled up to the point you both will probably pass out from overstimulation once he’s done with you. you had been teasing him multiple times a day for the past four days because you knew exactly what buttons to push to piss him off completely. 

you just did not expect him to go absolutely feral on you. 

the pace of his fingers inside of you was fast, the soft whines you let out were like music to his ears. while at it, he slowly started to kiss down on your body, especially focusing on your tits, making you tremble when he nipped on your one nipple. once his lips reached your belly and shortly after your clit, he just couldn’t help himself but to dive in. 

“oh, you taste so good, sweetheart”, he murmured. ajax pulled out his finger and started to keep your legs wide open while he started lapping up your cunt. “can’t ever… get enough of you.”

your back arched as he smoothly worked you up close to your first orgasm of the night. when you looked down on your boyfriend, stroking through his hair softly, you felt him smile against your folds while he continued lapping up your juices, before he looked up for a second. 

the short moment of eye contact made you giggle, his chin was glistening in your slick and he didn’t say anything before diving back in. he was absolutely obsessed with your taste on his tongue that he just couldn’t stop. 

“i’m going to cum, oh, god, i’m going to cum”, you started blurting out as if it was a mantra, he was getting even faster with his rough tracing of his tongue, slipping a finger into your cunt that had you seeing stars. your body tensed up when you finally came and he had your hips stuttering uncontrollably. 

you choked out a sob when he didn’t stop, the overstimulation quickly kicking in and you were trying to close your legs which was a lot harder than expected, considering he was gripping your thighs tightly to keep them open. he got you to the point where you already started begging for him to just finally fuck you and who was he not to oblige? 

ajax pressed one last kiss on your clit as he wiped off the remainings of your cum and slick from his chin and peppered soft kisses all over your body before he was kissing your lips again. he pulled your body up a little to have the camera’s angle shoot right at his hips against yours. 

just as you were distracted from your heavy makeout, he pushed his cock in, slowly at first because he wanted to make sure not to hurt you in any way. letting go from the kiss to watch your reaction, he just tried to calm you down from the initial stretch. 

once you gave him a little sign that you were feeling good for him to move, he couldn’t help himself but lose his composure. he just couldn’t help himself but fuck you hard, leaning down to kiss you again and muffle some of the loud moans you were letting out. 

he set a merciless rhythm, and from the way he ate you out just a few moments ago, you couldn’t help but try to push him away from the oversensitivity. ajax didn’t like that, though, grabbing your arm and pinning it down against the comfort of your pillows. 

“don’t you dare”, he grunted, “i’m sick of your little acts of seeming like you’re such a fucking dom over me.”

you knew he wasn’t meaning it, he never did. in fact, each time he said this, the very next day you’d have him asking, no, begging, you how needy he is and that he needs to eat you out for his own pleasure. he would tell you how fucking hard he was just by thinking of your night before. he would tell how good he would fuck you if you let him. 

and he would. 

but the way his voice sounded when he was fucking you right now, franticly, made you clench around him tightly. 

“oh, you like that, sweetheart, don’t you?”, he mumbled with a small smile, pulling out and having you whine out in displeasure. he softly brushed your clit with his thumb and you sucked in a sharp breath. 

he moved your body to turn around, you were feeling so boneless already that you couldn’t even move anymore. a quick, yet slightly hard slap on your ass had you gasp out in surprise and you tried your best to turn around. his hands were quickly back on your body and he quickly filled you up once again, his pace was as quick as before when he was chasing his release. 

“please, please, please”, you choked out a sob when you felt his hips stuttering and he came inside you with one last thrust. his eyes rolled back in pleasure and yet, he couldn’t stop himself. despite the fact he was so crazily sensitive, he was so obsessed with how tight you were around him and how good you felt. 

just as you were about to come around him, he slowed down. you looked at him in disbelief, you just couldn’t believe he would edge you. “why?”, you mumbled, you felt him brush over your cheek. 

“you know exactly why, my love”, he replied before he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 

it took you a short moment to regain power over your body and you tried to turn you both around. once you were seated on his lap, you didn’t hesitate to sink down on him, immediately sobbing out in pleasure. 

ajax, on the other hand, enjoyed the show; the way you were arching your back as you were riding him. he was watching your tits bounce from how quickly you were trying to ride him, and he just couldn’t help himself but softly pinch your nipples to add onto your sensitivity. you cried out in frustration, slumping down on his chest and begging him to make you come. 

“aww, baby, you are so adorable”, he softly brushed his hand through your hair. “you’re doing so good for me. keep on begging for me, my love.” you gasped out as all energy had left your body and he thrusted up into you, arms tightly around your body as he finally had you come, your entire body was shaking intensely and you just couldn’t help but moan out his name like a mantra. 

“ajax”, you mumbled, completely boneless, sensitive and having no energy in your limbs to move. “please.” 

“still want more, baby?”, he cooed, lifting your head a little to have you look into his eyes, the intense gaze he gave you made you twitch around him. “you know what i want to hear. do that simple thing for me, and i’m all yours.”

“i don’t care what you do, but please just fuck me. fuck me until i beg you to stop but don’t. fuck me until i pass out. i really, really need this, ajax, please.” 

immediately after he turned you both around again, softly caressing your cheek when you cried out to his dick entering you again, hard. he mumbled sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down from your hectic begging; “shh, sweetheart, i’m all yours. i’m not going anywhere. i’ll fuck you so good, all you will remember is me and my name and you won’t be able to feel anything but me inside of you.” 

ajax quickly started pounding into you, your whines and moans were absolutely delightful for him to listen to– the sounds you made riled him up even more than before and his thrusts became erratic quickly. he was already so close to come inside you once again, though, this time, he really just wanted to focus on your pleasure than his own. 

all he wanted was to be as close as possible to you, hooking your leg around his waist. that was his intention all along, just feel you as close as physically possible. and torture you until you fully submit to him. 

“just like that, baby, come for me. i will come inside if you do, sweetheart. i will fill you up to the brim until you’re leaking for me, darling”, he whispered into your ear, feeling how you were clenching around him like crazy before you finally came around him, everything went white for you as you finally felt him come inside again. you felt so full of him, he continued his thrusts for a few moments before he stopped, absolutely spent. 

“you did so well for me, my love, shh, relax, i’m here”, he whispered, trying to calm you down from your shaking and sobbing of pleasure. “you’re okay, you’re doing so good for me.”

there were so many tears running down your cheeks, but they were all from the overstimulation and ajax couldn’t help but just watch them. he always had a thing for your pretty tears that he caused when fucking you over and over. 

you hid your face at his neck, still a few soft sobs escaping your lips, despite finally calming down again. you felt so exhausted and you knew you wouldn’t be able to move even an inch right now. 

“shh… just sleep. i’ll take care of you, baby”, he promised, turning off the camera on the night shelf and finally pulling out of you, making you whine out softly. “shh. you’re okay, i will clean you up, just sleep.”

you fell asleep almost immediately after. ajax did as he promised and cleaned you up, also turning off the camera on your pc before he finally went back to the bed and cuddled up against you. shortly after, he also fell asleep contently. 

“oh, god, i can’t feel my legs”, you whined when you tried to get up from your bed, ajax was only laughing next to you. “shut up, you did this to me.” 

“well, i did what you asked me to, sweetheart”, he replied. “‘fuck me until i beg you to stop but don’t. fuck me until i pass out.’” you turned around to him before you slapped him over which he kept on laughing. 

“just shut up”, you pouted, finally getting up from the bed and going to your closet to put on fresh clothes. “wanna watch what we did last night?”, you grinned. ajax nodded getting up to put on some shorts quickly before he sat down on your chair and motioning for you to sit down on his lap. he started the video, though he was more focusing on how you reacted on your own recorded porn. 

“god, you’re so hot when you get pissed off with me”, you mumbled, watching his deep gaze on your body when you were trying to push him away when you felt too sensitive. “never realized how fucking intense you look at me when you fuck me.” 

“that’s because you’re too beautiful, my love”, he smirked at how shy you got immediately after he said this. “especially when you’re under me, letting out those cute little noises and making those adorable faces when i fuck you hard.” 

“shush, you’re making me crave even more”, you whined. 

“even more, sweetheart? i thought i had fucked you thoroughly last night, but i guess i didn't. and you know what’s even better? i didn’t even get to use the toys”, he whispered, his voice deep in your ear. ajax smirked when he felt you shift around on his lap. “don’t worry, i won’t torture you tonight. but you better prepare yourself, sweetheart. i won’t go easy on you after watching and editing this.” 

[clairecrive]

Hi could we please get a really angsty fic with nikolai (with a happy ending pls) where reader and he has had a fight so they maintain the facade on the outside bc they're royals but in private it's just ignoring each other/angst?

Young Royals

A/N: ahh, this is angsty alright but it seems I'm only capable of writing hurt/comfort lately. This took a life of its own and it's long af but I hope you like it anyway x

Warnings: miscommunication, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Nikolai is a bit absent, you're a bit jealous of his relationship with Zoya

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @pansysgirlfriend , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep,@lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis, @carnationworld,@thanossexual, @luvxginger, @sanna2020,@partiesandblurrypolaroids, @edithsvoice, @wafflesandschemingfaces (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"Do not put words into my mouth, Nikolai."

"Please, you already have so many, my love," he scoffed and the use of the term of endearment hurt the most.

"You're making me sound like a brat while I'm providing you with a viable solution," you insisted with a flare of your hands, frustrated by his unwillingness to listen to you.

"No, you're not. What you're doing is being childish."

"I'm your queen, Nikolai. I'm only asking to be more involved."

"You're my wife, y/n, and you know nothing about politics or running a country." He retired, putting emphasis on wife. This felt a lot like being put into place. And the fact that it was your husband doing so, hurt. It was also the most you had seen him this week.

"Neither did Zoya, nor Genya or anyone who's currently running the country."

"That's different and you know it."

"Only because you're making it so," you exclaimed finally exploding. His despondency got on your nerves and this conversation was going nowhere anyway.

Surprised by your raise of voice, Nikolai stood before you just blinking at you.

Sighing, you took a step toward him, holding your hands up, "look, you're right, I don't know about running a country but teach me. I'm not stupid, I'll pick it up."

"Why are you insisting so much? You've never shown any interest in politics before." He gave you a puzzled look like he didn't really believe your intentions.

"I've never wanted to be queen before." before meeting you.

"Ah, I see," he chuckled mirthlessly, "I put you in this situation and now you're taking your revenge."

To insinuate that your marriage with him was you "being put into a situation" rather than a consensual decision you had made out of love was absurd.

Nikolai was right. You had never cared about politics or diplomacy before meeting him. You were a soldier. There was no reason for you to meddle with something that didn't concern you.

But now you were queen and you felt a responsibility towards your people. You wanted to help but so far, Nikolai hadn't allowed you to take part in any meetings. He said that anyone who needed to be there was already involved. What he didn't tell you was that while Grisha made excellent soldiers and even good councillors, one of them being a royal was a very different matter.

He had indulged his love for you by marrying you. You were his vice and he simply couldn't accept the idea of being without you anymore. He had married you, consequently making you queen, going against what his advisors told him.

While he ignored his warnings he was painfully aware, however, how difficult it was going to be for a Grisha on the throne. It was the first time something liked this had ever happened and unfortunately, the country was filled with people who resented Grisha for their powers.

Nikolai feared that the people were never going to accept you. Hence why he'd been keeping you secluded in the palace.

To be fair, you were doing a wonderful job. Like he had pointed out, you were not accustomed to politics but you made up for that with empathy and kindness. You started to interest yourself with the problem of poverty and lack of provisions for some parts of the country.

And while no one was aware of it, Nikolai often turned to you for military strategy. You were an apt soldier and had fought bravely alongside him and everyone else in the battle of the Fold. You were the very reason why he was still alive, to be honest.

While this arrangement worked for the first months of your reign, it was starting to feel an inadequate effort. You needed to do more, you wanted to do more. You didn't expect Nikolai to oppose it so vehemently.

"If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be, Nikolai, you'd do well to remember it," you pointed out coldly, straightening your spine.

"Since you seem so adverse at spending time with me or including me in important matters, I'll find someone else who will." And with that, chin held high, you walked out of the room.

You missed him. It felt absurd to say this but you missed your husband. He was always busy with meetings or official visits to some noble across the country. For most of them, he went alone or with Zoya.

You knew that she was his first in command but you couldn't help but be bothered by it. It was one thing to accept the fact that he hadn't given the role to you "because the queen cannot have that role as well", it was a whole other thing to accept the fact that another woman spent more time with your husband than you did.

Countless were the fights you had with him in this regard. But they were pointless. Nikolai was still set on not bringing you and he and Zoya were always found together.

You didn't know what hurt more. The blow at your pride for being denied a position you deserved because of who you loved, the jealousy or being punished for your identity.

One thing was sure though, it was getting too much. At first, you pulled thought for Nikolai but now that you didn't have him anymore, your efforts seemed to be in vain.

So, like you had told Nikolai, you looked for someone who was willing to teach you. You wanted to help and if Nikolai wasn't going to let you here at the palace, then you'd find somewhere else.

Count Kirigin had always been nice to you and he was a very generous host. You knew that he played a central role in Nikolai's plan so you thought that there was no one better than him.

You reached out to him, wrote him a letter in which you showed interest in his activity and asked him if he was willing to show you. Of course, anything that came from the queen or the king couldn't be denied but you knew that the Count truly enjoyed your company. If your position didn't put so much higher than everybody else, you'd even consider him a friend.

You waited for his reply before putting in motion the preparations for your departure.

In the meantime, you and Nikolai kept conducting your separate lives. Usually, you'd only see him at night when he returned to your chambers if you were still up. Now, you had decided to sleep in separate rooms too.

If he wanted a wife, then a wife he'd get. But kings and queens do not sleep together.

If the new arrangement was bothering him, you didn't know. He hadn't reached out to you nor made any move to rectify your decision.

Turns out that he wasn't even at the Palace. He had left for a mission near the border with Shu Han and wouldn't be back for at least a week. Well, then. Of course, he didn't even bother with telling you. Not even a small note.

Jokes on him though, you thought, since when he was going to come back, he'd finally get what he wanted. You weren't going to be there to bother him anymore.

Differently from him though, you did indeed left him a note. Nikolai found it a week after you had set it on his pillow. Its presence made him furrow his eyebrows since he had already been wondering where you were. You usually came out to meet him at the gates whenever he'd come back from a mission and even though you had fought before he went away, you weren't one for holding grudges. So e guessed there was something holding you.

Unfolding the paper he was met with your familiar chaotic writing.

"I don't know when you're going to find this letter but if I'm not there yet it means that I'm still at Count Kirigin's. Do not bother with writing or visiting, I'll come back when my business with him is done.

Y/n"

What in the name of every sweet loving saint???

The letter wasn't dated, no dear, no yours no nothing. Fuck. You were still mad or worse, hurt.

Asking one of the servants, he learned that you had been away for a week already. But what business could you possibly have with the Count??

Nikolai had nothing against him. Seeing Kirigin get all flustered as he tried to flirt with Zoya amused him to no end but the idea of him and you in the same house? Alone?? Unacceptable.

Not even bothering to change clothes after his long journey, Nikolai headed to the stables to ask for a well-rested horse. Luckily, Count Kirigin's estate was not too far away. A couple of hours ride.

Turns out that the Count had a lot to teach. Despite his aloof reputation and extravagant clothes, he was very observant. He lacked ambition, which was why Nikolai trusted him and had a curious way of behaving in social situations.

But Emil had been born and raised in high society. He knew how things were run even if he had no desire to be in charge of them.

So far, you'd be having a wonderful time. Emil was a wonderful host, as you remembered, but without Nikolai's presence, he was even more extravagant. He had an unexpectedly dry sense of humour and a never-ending list of jokes.

Being in the open and in the company of someone who saw y/n instead of the Queen of Ravka proved to be even more needed than you thought. You felt reinvigorated and much lighter than you'd ever been.

You had also been learning a lot. Emil had been teaching you about diplomacy. About the best ways of formulating a sentence so that you wouldn't offend anyone but still get what you wanted. He had also been talking to you about your husband's ministers. About their weaknesses and vices and what was the best way to approach them to get what you wanted.

So far, it was proving to be a wonderful decision to come here.

Whenever your mind strayed on Nikolai, you willed it to focus on something else. You didn't know if he had already come home or seen the letter. A part of you thought that if he had, he would at least write one back. But the thought felt a lot like hope and seeing as how little he saw you even before you left, you didn't think it safe to harbour it.

When Nikolai reached the estate, he was met with Kirigin's servants. They welcomed him inside and profusely apologised for the Count's absence. They told him that at this time of the day, Kirigin and his guest would usually go out on a ride but that they were also about to return.

So Nikolai waited, sitting in the most comfortable chair the Count owned, fuming at the thought that his wife had felt the need to go away and be in the company of another man.

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be Nikolai. You'd do well to remember it."

Your words haunted him. They were the last thing that you told him. How stupid had he been to let you walk away. How utterly careless of him to disregard you like that.

He had promised himself to truly talk to you about it once this pressing matter of state was taken care of. Apparently, he had waited too long.

But Nikolai knew that the problem was at the source. He noticed how hurt you had been when he made Zoya his first in command. Or how sad you seemed everywhere he went somewhere with her and didn't ask you to join.

He was doing so to protect you from the inevitable slander you'd be met with. He should have known though that putting you aside was going to be even worse. You were a fighter just as much as Zoya was, if not stronger.

She hid behind her veil of indifference and superiority while you had never lost that emphatic verve that made everyone love you so much. In his attempt to make you safe, he had only managed to hurt you.

You were a warrior. You had accepted the role of queen only because it was the only way for you to be with Nikolai. And instead of praising you by making you a warrior queen, he had decided to hide you away.

Well, no more.

If his mistakes had not ruined everything already, he was going to make everything better.

Lost in his musing, he didn't hear the sound of hooves approaching but he did indeed hear your laugh. It immediately brought him back to the present and a wave of ugly jealousy hit him.

He couldn't remember the last time he made you laugh.

"I shouldn't even laugh Emil, the joke was terrible," Nikolai hear you giggling from somewhere in the hall. So now he was Emil, huh.

"You know you can't resist my charm, your highness," Emil replied and Nikolai had to call on every bit of his self-control to not barge out of the room and punch him.

"Stop it, you know you can call me y/n."

Before Emil could reply, they had both made it to the sitting room where Nikolai was waiting for them. It looked like no one had warned them of his presence because Kirigin looked surprised then utterly mortified.

"Your majesty, I wasn't aware you were here. Please forgive me for making you wait."

"Don't fret Kirigin, it was an impromptu visit. I came to see how my lovely wife was doing." No matter how green he was feeling right now, he knew that Kirigin was loyal to him and the crown. Whatever was happening here wasn't one of his schemes.

"Of course! I'm going to send for some tea while you two get reunited." Kirigin quickly bowed before hurrying out of the room.

Nikolai met your eyes for the first time since you had arrived. If at first, you were surprised to see him, now you couldn't help but be a bit sceptical about this visit.

"What are you doing here?" you asked breaking the ice.

"You leave with only a few lines on where you're going and you expect me to just accept it?" He scoffed, his hands curling on the armrests of the chair.

"It's more than what you gave me," you quipped, crossing your arms on your chest.

Nikolai sighed while his gloved hands run through his hair. You were right and he knew it. He had been a horrible husband lately.

"I know you're mad at me, honey, but listen-"

"I'm not mad. You didn't want to give me what I wanted so I went looking for it somewhere else." Scrolling your shoulders, you interrupted him without meeting his eyes. A list of excuses was not what you wanted nor what you needed from him.

Nikolai didn't miss the innuendo. His jaw clenched, his hands closed in fists. But he willed himself to stay calm.

"You think Kirigin can give you something that I can't?" Nikolai was a master in diplomacy. Never did he get frustrated or angry or raised his voice, even with the most aggravating people. Here though, with you, he didn't have to keep a façade. He spoke through his teeth barely containing his anger.

"Well, so far, he's been giving me attention and interesting pointers that no, Nikolai, you refused to give me."

"So this is how you solve your problems? Running away in the countryside with Emil?" Nikolai sneered, his tone souring around Kirigin's name.

"Don't you do the same with your precious first in command?" Tired after your ride with Emil, you plopped down on the chair in front of Nikolai's. Completely ignoring his tone, you pointed out calmly. The perfect image of aloofness even when it was the last thing you were in this moment.

"That's different," he snapped trying to meet your eyes that were carefully analyzing your hands.

"Yes," you signed, "it seems that when I'm concerned everything is different."

"There's nothing between me and Zoya, y/n and you know it." Nikolai was getting more frustrated by the second. He came here to apologize, to make things right and so far, the conversation was going in the opposite directions.

"Maybe now, but you spend more time with her than you do with me. It's only a matter of time before it happens and you're sorely mistaken if you think I'll just stand by and watch."

"This is not about Zoya," he insisted but so far, he wasn't getting the reaction out of you he wanted. You seemed... resigned at the situation. And that worried Nikolai to no end.

"It never is."

"Why did you run away?" Opting for a more direct approach, he bit the bullet and went straight to the point.

"I did not run away," you scoffed in contempt at his choice of words, "I told you I wanted to do more and Emil is teaching me. Not everyone is so against spending time with me, you know." You shot him a glance.

It was the first time that you had looked at him since you had been left alone.

"I married you, y/n. How can you possibly believe I don't want to spend time with you?" As desperation slipped through his words, Nikolai leaned towards you in his seat. As if he couldn't bear the distance between you anymore. But you knew it wasn't that. You and he had been distant for months now.

"Because that's what's happening, Nikolai," you clipped back and Nikolai had to refrain from wincing at your tone.

"It's not intentional, my love, I've just been busy." His tone softened. It was a poor excuse of an apology but it was sadly the truth.

"But when I say that I want to join or help you with it you strongly oppose?" Again, there was that suspicious implication in your words that Nikolai just couldn't stand. To think that you believed he'd ever cheat on you with another woman when he had done so much, taken so many risks, to be with you.

"It's not what you think, y/n." He insisted again but immediately realized he had said the wrong thing when he saw you leaning back into your chair shaking your head.

"I don't think anything, anymore. Do whatever you want. You do your thing and I'll do mine. I won't be a bother to you anymore." Holding up your hands, you gestured as you spoke.

A beat. Nikolai froze in his seat at what you were suggesting.

"You're never a bother to me. Never." He leaned even forwards in his chair, basically only propping on it now. The desperation was now clear in his voice. He reached out to you to try and take hold of your hands but you were too distant.

"I love you more than anything in this world and if you think that I'm going to let you go without a fight, you're sorely mistaken." The steel determination of his words caught you off guard. Nikolai was strong-headed, you knew that better than anyone else, but it had been a long while since that determination had been directed to you.

"You already did." It was barely a whisper. The sad truth about your reality, the downfall of your relationship. The wavering of your voice, the pain in your eyes were enough to tip Nikolai off the edge.

"Milaya, please."He fell onto his knees in front of you. Leaning forward he reached for your hands that he could now hold. "I'm sorry. I put you in a difficult position when I married you and I tried my best to protect you."

"I don't need protecting, Nikolai, especially if it's by pushing me away."

"I was keeping you away from danger and I know that you're strong and capable but I hate to think of you as the object of public slander." His eyes darted between yours, frantic, desperate to make you understand.

"I'm Grisha, Nikolai. It's nothing new to me," you pointed out but then it hit you.

"By difficult position, you meant a Grisha Queen, didn't you?" Your eyes hardened at the implications, your hands going slack in his hold. You would have pulled them away if Nikolai didn't tighten his hold.

"Please, do not think I'm regretting my choice or I think you're not worthy of the title because that's not true." Pulling your hands, he tried to get you closer to him. "I fear that there will be repercussions among the people." And there it was, at last, the truth.

"And among your ministers," you added remembering Emil's lessons on the people at court and their role.

You scoffed when he stayed silent. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing, my love."

"So Zoya can handle it and I can't?"

"For the millionth time," he groaned, "I don't care about Zoya."

"I only care about you and I know you can handle it. I just didn't want you to. You deserve happiness and peaceful life and I know it's impossible to have in this saints' forsaken country but I can at least try." His eyes lowered in shame and his confession sent a pang through your heart. You took a moment to take in what he said.

Never had you thought about the possibility of Nikolai's distance was a form of protection. You were a soldier of the Second Army, after all. But being a queen, especially a Grisha one, was a delicate thing.

It was the first time in history that something like this happened. Nikolai's worries were not unfounded since even after the destruction of the Fold, anti-Grisha movements were spreading fast.

It was sad to see the General's attempt of assuring safety for Grisha, provoking exactly the opposite thing.

"Oh, Kolya," returning his grip, you leaned towards him, "I just want a life with you by my side."

"As do I. I want you always and forever but above all, I want you safe. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, you know it right?"

"I just ask that you tell me the truth and let me play the role I've been given."

"It's not going to be easy. People at court-"

"I know. That's why I'm here. Emil's been teaching."

"Well, no more. I'm going to take care of it from now on."

"Is this a promise or a threat?"

"Rest assured my love, the difference between the two is almost nonexistent." He flashed you a smirk and you couldn't help but smile at him. Here it was, your beloved Nikolai.

"Things are going to change, aren't they?" you murmured softly as he gently rested his forehead against yours.

"We're going to show everyone what a "power couple" is." Here was his promise. Sealed with the gentlest nudging of his nose to yours. The action made you smile and your heart soar. You missed these little moments of intimacy with him.

One of his hands came to cradle your face as the other kept hold of your left hand. Your rings softly clicked as they touched. A form of reassurance.

"I love you, y/n."

"And I you, Kolya."

You were completely lost in your little bubble, even more so when Nikolai's lips finally met yours, that you had forgotten where you were. And that there was an embarrassed Kirigin outside the door waiting for the right moment to come in with tea.

[faith--in-the-future]

I’d love more of Louis on social media, like the Q&A and fan challenges ideas the previous anon mentioned. And I agree LTHQ is dropping the ball in lots of ways. But I also think Louis not doing social media in the same way, for example, that Niall does ultimately comes down to Louis just not wanting to do it. It seems to me (and I know I might be totally wrong!) like he’s measured the pros of how social media could advance his career against the cons of having to do something he doesn’t enjoy, and he’s decided his dislike of doing social media outweighs the benefits. Maybe LTHQ isn’t doing a good job of pitching it to him, but with his experience in the industry, it’s weird they should have to. And of course there’s still so much more they could do on social media without even needing his direct involvement.

But even if he’s decided not to put a lot of direct effort into expanding his fan base - and that’s obviously his call to make, and we might all make the same decision if we were him and knew all the considerations involved - I’m still surprised and disappointed he doesn’t do it just as a way to engage with current fans. 😔 I think he’s authentic when he talks about his relationship with his fans, and more social media would be such a great way to connect with us. Doesn’t have to be anything formal! And it’s especially a great way to give back to fans who can’t get to a show. I always appreciate your take on things - am I really off base? Thanks for your patience with newbie asks! 🙂

hi! sorry I'm answering late but I was busy earlier

when I talked about fun promo I was thinking more of things like YouTube interviews/late night shows with games etc (I have been campaigning for the celebrity bake off thing for YEARS) and fun photoshoots, things that keep fans engaged, that give us content and also insight in a different side of louis in a more relaxed environment.

I think its really important to make the fan experience actually fun in general but especially with louis bc there are so many things to get frustrated about that nobody can really change like the radio blacklisting or the close contact with sides of the fandom that hate each other so its crucial imo to offer fun distractions and in general to keep fans interested! this is a sort of hobby for people right? and nobody wants an hobby that's not enjoyable!

I do think louis doesn't like social media and honestly it's fine like it doesn't have to be the end all be all of everything, and a good a social media manager can work on it anyways (regular posting especially in promo season would help him get more followers/not lose them and it wouldn't be so hard).

but like, we already know radio is out, award shows and other events don't invite him/he doesn't go, he doesn't do festivals bc "they don't call him" (although I think it's more like he has a shitty booking agent), he doesn't do collaborations, and then if we cut out photoshoots and social media and YouTube stuff too what is left?? like genuinely we're just left with the usual rehearsed print interviews with the same questions and answers and then the classic promo interviews on TV that louis doesn't even like doing bc they make him anxious!! like how is that productive in any way! neither him or us are actually happy ! also it would be great for him to be seen by the gp in an actual happy light instead of the "hope after tragedy/difficulties " light!

look, this is totally speculation bc I don't know him, but I do think that louis is not comfortable with/scared of uncontrollable environment and of engaging with funny things, imo bc for years people have been either laughing at him and insulting him or analyzing his every gesture to spot "gayness" or whatever. nobody who has been subjected to that for years will remain unscathed, it's like putting a plant in a dark room without water and asking why is it not giving flowers.

but the problem with comfort zones is that they can very very easily become our own limits, we think they're keeping the world out but really they're just trapping us in. if u leave someone in the dark too long their eyes get adjusted to it and then they won't get out bc the light hurts them !

what I'm saying is that when I say louis needs a new manager/team it's bc I think he needs someone who won't just settle for the bare minimum necessary to keep louis happy, he needs someone with ideas and ambitions and the guts to push him a little out of his comfort zone and to encourage his growth! his team is way too lazy and unimaginative and they're just happy with what they have now , and for some reason don't seem to realize that things are always changing and u can't expect to keep something forever without taking proper care of it

it's sad bc louis works so hard on what he does but then it all gets washed away into nothingness and he ends up blaming himself all the time, I just want that cycle to be broken

somewhat related: I also think that his story/image/persona whatever you want to call it won't quite be complete/make sense/be truly compelling until he actually gives us the bigger picture, like he always talks about the difficulties he's faced but what are they exactly? who's the enemy? (a good story needs a good enemy just as much as it needs a good hero!) ,he was insecure and lost after the band but why? what made him feel that way? he's always telling up about the "after" and the consequences but we never quite understand the before

us fans know the answer to these questions or at least we've tried to come up with them but to people who don't have access to all that background knowledge and who are just checking him out it's not so clear, and a story like that can truly be efficient if it stops being superficial imo

so I'm curious to see how that has been explored in the documentary and I really hope that it won't be the same few things we already know but actually the real underbelly of the story (within the legal confines that I'm sure he has to respect rip)

[kaidenya]

Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

[cassandraclare]

The Letter Game (in full)

Many have asked to read last week’s letter game in a slightly simpler format. So here it is, for everyone’s enjoyment in plain text, under the cut. The action takes place between Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron. Read on . . .

1: INVITATION

To all and sundry—

The leaves are changing, and with them the season. It grows colder in London by the day, and even without the pestilence that recently ravaged us, even without demons breathing down our necks, cold with chill—now is the time for all good Shadowhunters to come to one another’s aid, and support one another in that most hallowed Nephilim tradition: song and dance.

So, a Musicale! The Townsends are pleased to invite the Enclave, in toto, to our West End home this Friday’s eve. Refreshments will of course be served, but the entertainment will be provided by you, our esteemed guests and friends. We would be so honored if you would help us welcome the coming of winter by bringing your most excellent capers and ballads, to keep us warm.

Grahame and Millie Townsend

2: Lucie » Cordelia

Cordelia, my sister, the very twin of my own heart,

Can you believe the Townsends’ invitation? How pretentious can one be, I ask you! It took all four Herondales an hour of discussion to conclude that “Friday’s eve” meant simply Friday evening rather than the eve before Friday (that is, Thursday). And is the demons or our necks that are meant to be cold with chill? “Cold with chill!” As a writer of words—no, even only as a reader of words—I am offended.

I digress, however. I write to ask whether you will be attending, as that will be significant to my own decision of whether to go. I asked James, and he was unenthused but “supposed” that “we must.” So I wish to let you know that if you don’t fancy attending, I believe James could be easily convinced. But, as unpleasant a night as it promises, I fear he may be correct that “we must.” You and he, after all, must do the social rounds as a betrothed pair, and I—well, I can hardly sit alone in my bedroom all night while all my friends witness Catherine Townsend’s cold-blooded murder of “O mio babbino caro.” 

So whatever your preference, I will be amenable. We can put on our frills and watch the most foolish of our set warble and prance, and at least we will have each other’s company and champagne. Or, if you’d prefer, tea and draughts in the Institute parlour. I am yours to command, my warrior-sister.

(I have realized only at this moment that perhaps you not only wish to attend but to perform yourself; if that is the case, I retract all previous mentions of warbling in favor of my unconditional enthusiastic support. I will even accompany you, if you wish, but I am not very good at the spinnet so please, something fairly slow would be best.)

Yours ever across the still waters of time and space,

L. Herondale

3: Ariadne » Anna

Dear Miss Lightwood,

I expect that you will have received the same invitation to the Townsends’ Musicale that the rest of the Enclave has. I write with the question of whether it’s your intention to attend, and to say that I hope that you will, and that I hope to see you there.

It’s not your sort of party, of course—dull, bourgeois, and stuffy, I imagine you’d say—but since as the daughter of the Inquisitor I am rarely able to appear at the more lively gatherings that you prefer, I do plan to attend myself, much as I would rather be elsewhere. (At one of those lively gatherings, perhaps?) Catherine will have my head if I am not there to keep her mother out of her hair, for one thing, and for another…well, I wish to see you.

I have it on fairly good authority that your brother and his roisterous band, or whatever they call themselves, are planning to be there. So I also write to implore you to come so that a cooler head will be present and any explosions, or implosions, or indeed bedlam of any kind, will be, if not prevented, at least more easily contained and cleaned up after.

For the event I am thinking of a dress I have, in a deep ruby color, with a rather striking neckline. I am no great judge of my own appearance, but I do know your taste and I daresay you will find it flatters me. For your part, I hope you will wear those pinstriped trousers you have. You have not worn them in an age, and I miss them, or rather, I miss how elegantly you wear them.

In short, I hope to see you there.

I know it is not your habit to keep letters from admirers, but rather to use them to kindle your fireplace. Perhaps that will be the destiny of this note as well, but I believe not. I come to you not as an admirer, after all, but as a friend, and one who wishes you all the best things in the world—

Yrs.,

Ariadne Bridgestock

4: Anna » Matthew

Mr. Fairchild—

Matthew, I have instructed the courier bringing you this note to evaluate your sobriety and, if it is found wanting, to slap you across the face twice. Straighten up and pay attention, you debauched fool. It’s still breakfast-time. And this is important.

Are you going to the Townsends’ musicale? 

Let me rephrase: if you know what’s good for you, you will be going to the Townsends’ musicale.

I hope to enjoy your company there, of course, as my friend and companion. But also, to be frank, I will need the support. My night was free and so I told them I would be there, but I wasn’t thinking, and now I’ve received a note from one A.B., letting me know in no uncertain terms that she will definitely be attending as well. It will be a large gathering, no doubt, and most of our time will be spent watching Thoby Baybrook chase after the juggling-balls he keeps dropping during his performance, rather than close-quarters socializing. But—and I trust in your confidence on this matter—I find I flutter with nerves. Imagine. I never flutter!

I hope I can count on you. I am not usually in the business of begging favors. However, this is an unusual situation. Matthew: she will be wearing the burgundy dress.

Anna

5: Ariadne » Matthew

To Matthew Fairchild—

All right, I’ve sent the letter. Against my better judgment, I should add. It seems more likely to drive her away than to attract her, to be honest, but you have her confidence in ways that I no longer do. If you think she is more likely to be there as a result, I will trust in your plan.

However.

I am fully aware that under most circumstances neither she nor you would be found as such a dreary party as an Enclave-wide musicale. (Nor would I, but as the daughter of the, et cetera et cetera, I hardly need to tell you.) So let this note serve as, not a threat, but a promise: if you even think about ditching the party for one of your Downworlder orgies, or whatever your usual scene, and you leave me and her to awkward politesse over stale canapes without showing up yourself…I will follow you to the ends of the Earth and your life will be forfeit. Forfeit, Fairchild. I daresay I can best you in a duel three times out of four, but also be assured I am very good with a dagger in the dark.

I look forward to enjoying this merry entry in the social season with you. I will see you there.

Yours sincerely,

Ariadne Bridgestock

6: Matthew » Cordelia

C,

No, that won’t do at all. There are already other C’s. Christopher, for instance. Also Caiaphas, a werewolf from whom I sometimes purchase wine. (He has an excellent nose, you see.)

Cordelia Carstairs, you need not worry about the Townsends’ party. First, none of Our Lot are planning to perform at all, but merely hang back and watch the festivities while imbibing and filling seats. You certainly shouldn’t worry that you’ll be asked to dance as you did at the Ruelle. This will not be the Ruelle. It will be far more insipid.

I’m sure J is focused entirely on your responsibilities as an engaged couple to make the rounds and be seen by the whey-faced provincials of the Enclave. He is correct, as always, the bastard, but he worries too much. Rest assured that we Thieves will be concocting a plan in which we are able to (1) have a good time at the most boring gathering of the season and (2) not miss cake. (I don’t know if you have had cake at the Townsends’. They are a tedious family, but their cook is some kind of confection-obsessed elf who performs great conjurings with spun sugar and buttercream.) (Yes, he really is an elf, I think. Or Catherine was having me on. His ears are fairly pointed, in any event.)

I do not particularly anticipate this musicale with great pleasure, but I do, of course, anticipate the opportunity to spend time in your presence with great relish. Truly, my parabatai could not have picked a more suitable bride with whom to be mutually bored to tears at parties for years to come. I suggest that for this one you bring a flask to tuck into your reticule. If you don’t, worry not; I will bring two. At least two.

I remain, as always, yours sincerely, etc etc,

Matthew Fairchild

7: James » Thieves

CONFIDENTIAL—DO NOT DISTRIBUTE—ON PAIN OF TORTURE—THIS MEANS YOU

Merriest of Thieves,

After extensive discussion, we’ve reached consensus (or as close as we will come) on our plan for Having Fun At the Townsends’ Musicale Even Though It Is a Musicale Hosted By the Townsends. (A variety of alternate names were proposed, but all have been vetoed by the plan’s organizer, that is, myself. Please do not continue to send proposed names, Matthew.)

Our esteemed colleague Christopher has, it seems, been working in his spare time on a new method of rapidly sending written messages without the use of couriers. Instead, messages are sent with a combination of runes (so bring your steles) and a propellant of Christopher’s own invention. I’m told that the technique is not yet flawless, but Mr Lightwood reports that it is ready to be shown and tested, and what better place than a party at which missing the main entertainment would be not disappointing, but rather a great relief.

Down a corridor from the Townsends’ main parlour is a small games room. I say games room, but in truth it is empty of games, and nobody ever uses it. It is windowless and a bit close, but mostly empty of furnishings and a suitable location for a scientific demonstration. Even better, the corridor itself departs the parlour with a dog-leg, and once one has passed around the corner, one is invisible to the notice of the other partygoers. (See attached floor plan of the first storey of the house; thanks to TL for his freehand drafting skills.)

This plan assumes that none of you are planning to perform in the musicale itself; if this is not the case, then MF wishes me to remind you both of your loyalties and to the overall philistine-like qualities of most of the guests.

Surely this will provide sufficient entertainment to get us all through the evening.

The party is only one days away, so if there are any questions about this plan, please hiss them to me sotto voce tomorrow night while Millie Townsend is performing her murder ballads.

Courage, half a league, half a league onward, and so on,

James H

PS: For those whose main draw to this party is Morgaint’s famous Victoria sponge, Christopher assures me that we should be done well in time for dessert. (I should add a warning that it should not be referred to as a Victoria sponge within earshot of Morgaint, as he will lecture you at length about the recipe’s preceding Victoria by centuries, the history of confection in pre-Roman Britain, and so on. He is very temperamental, even for a faerie.)

8: Thomas » Alastair

Dear Mr Carstairs—

We have not spoken in many weeks, presumably as a result of the unfortunate circumstances under which we last met. Nevertheless, I write this evening to extend my wishes for your family’s continued health and good fortune.

As I’m sure you know, this Friday marks an Enclave-wide social event at the home of the Mr and Mrs Townsend. I know that your sister will be in attendance, with her fiancé. The Lightwoods—Eugenia, Anna, Christopher, and myself—are also planning to be there. And, of course, we expect the family of our esteemed Consul, including both of her sons, to make an appearance.

Shall we expect to see you there? I ask merely because if so, I will not be attending. I understand that as your family will be there you have every right to attend, so I am happy to be the one who bows out of the evening.

Yours sincerely,

Mr T. Lightwood

9: Alastair » Thomas

Mr Lightwood

Tom

Look, you,

I am amazed and impressed by the effrontery of you writing to me to ask whether I will be attending an event only to them tell me that if I attend, you will not. No doubt you are feeling aggrieved about the last time we met. Well, so am I.  Jests and pranks from our schoolboy years are hardly a good enough reason for the kind of public humiliation I suffered, both from Matthew Fairchild’s rude outburst and your own. The very thought of attending a party with the likes of you sends me into a mixture of, on the one hand, paroxysms of helpless laughter, and on the other, a thumping headache of barely contained fury that I

[letter discarded, not sent]

Mr Lightwood,

Thank you for your kind letter.  I am, of course, aware of the upcoming affair at the home of the Townsends, through the usual means of receiving my own request to attend. It would seem to me obvious that I had no need of being informed about the party as though I would otherwise be ignorant of it. Unlike some of the London Shadowhunter families, the Townsends have only ever been courteous to the Carstairs family, and the implication that I wouldn’t have received exactly the same invitation that you did is exactly the kind of nonsense that

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I won’t be attending the Townsends’ musicale, as I am already committed to a preferable previous engagement cleaning out the pigeon cages in the Regent’s Park Zoo.

Thank you for thinking of me.

Receipt of your letter is hereby acknowledged.

I don’t know why you would write to me at all, but please do not write back to try to explain.

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I do want to apologize, I have tried to apologize, but every time I come near you a wall of your friends prevents me from doing so. You can hardly hold it against me that I have not apologized when you will not allow me to do so. Yes, I know what I did rises far above the level of a jest or a prank. But one must be allowed to make amends somehow, for otherwise what is there? Hopelessness? Not I suppose that you care much what I feel. Just because you are beloved of your friends, and ridiculously tolerably handsome, you think —

[Letter discarded, not sent]

10: Cordelia » James

J—

Do you need rescuing? Everyone is in the games room for Christopher’s demonstration, even Thomas, who has spent most of the evening hiding from my brother. You on the other hand have been waylaid in the corner with Mrs Whatshername. I tried to get close enough to intervene but was swept away myself by Mr Townsend, who wanted to tell me about his travels in the Levant when he was a younger man. Could not tell if he was confused about my family’s origins or he simply assumed anyone would be fascinated by his tales of camels and pyramids. Anyway, M suggests he could interrupt and scold you for ignoring your betrothed. Lucie says you are ignoring your betrothed, but don’t listen to her, I know you are far too polite to interrupt a member of the older set. (If you yourself remember, please remind me of her name when you come.) 

Come as soon as you can. Do not allow Mrs Whatshername to follow you.

Daisy

11: Christopher » Thieves

To: James, Lucie, Matthew, Thomas, Cordelia, Anna, Ariadne

From: Christopher

In an ideal world, I would have been able to send you this note through this very technique I am demonstrating tonight, but it does make a fairly loud bang, and I thought that would likely give the game away. Though I wish to not allow social proprieties to impede the progress of science, I have been reminded by several of you that discretion can be the better part of valor. Although I admit I can’t think of any personal examples where that would be the case.

In the games room I have piled a supply of protective spectacles, which I suggest you wear. There is no danger of damage to your eyes, but there may be some very bright flashes. In addition, the propellant which I will be using to send the message is an experimental mixture, similar to those I have tried in the past but not exactly the same. There is a very very small chance that inhalation of its fumes may cause some temporary effects to the mind, so I recommend that you hold a handkerchief over your nose and mouth during the demonstration. To be clear, I don’t think that any of these effects would have any negative impact on our ability to return to the party and attend the musical performances afterwards. At worst, it may make those performances seem more enjoyable than they would otherwise.

12: James » Townsends

Dear Mr and Mrs Townsend,

On behalf of myself, my family, my fiancée, and my fellows, I wished to extend sincerest apologies for departing your lovely gathering without saying proper goodbyes. Your musicale was, as all would have expected, a smashing success, with performances across the board demonstrating the falsehood of the common claim that the Nephilim are unable to produce works of art. Surely your daughter Catherine’s rendition of Puccini’s famous aria could stand alongside the finest professionals to be found in the Royal Albert Hall.

As you discovered along with the rest of the guests, Christopher Lightwood wished to use the opportunity of having us all present to demonstrate the state of his newest invention. I’m told that when it is completed, it will utterly revolutionize the way that Shadowhunters are able to communicate with one another, obviating the need for the runners, couriers, and use of the mundane Royal Mail to send messages to one another. Instead we will have a fully self-contained rune-based method. Surely anyone would agree that such a development would be well worth whatever growing pains the process of invention and experimentation might create.

As you also discovered, Mr Lightwood’s demonstration took an unexpected turn, with a good amount of his customized propellant being released into your games room and corridors. Luckily, it was a mild evening, and open windows as well as the vigorous fanning of the doors by Thomas Lightwood and Ariadne Bridgestock quickly dispersed the gasses.

That said, neither I nor my companions are able to account for an interval of roughly ninety minutes between the end of the demonstration and our departure from your house. To that end, it seems that we were sadly lacking in good manners by failing to thank you for your warm hospitality at the time. Again, please accept our deepest apologies, and our thanks for that hospitality, even if it has been delivered discourteously late. 

Warmest regards,

James Herondale

13: Matthew » James

Jamie,

Good Lord, what was in that stuff of Christopher’s? Do you know if there will be any lasting effects? I hesitate to ask Kit, he seems too dismayed.

Also, I am trying to find out to whom exactly I owe an apology for specific behaviors that might have happened after the demonstration. I seem to have lost more than an hour from my memory, as well as my waistcoat and a garnet ring of which I was quite fond. Any thoughts you have would be appreciated.

Matthew

14: Lucie » James

James,

I have been expecting to hear from Matthew, but as it has been most of a day and I haven’t yet, can you please let him know that I will make myself available to be apologized to during teatime, either tomorrow or the next day. Please also tell him that I will be sending along a bill for the costs of cleaning arrack out of the skirt of my dress. For such a prodigious consumer of spirits, you would think he would have learned not to slosh them around so much when he talks. I suppose Christopher’s propellant takes some of the blame, but honestly, Shadowhunters are trained in agility and dexterity and even under the influence of one of Christopher’s experiments he should be able to, at very least, not slosh so.

Lucie

15: Cordelia » Anna

Dear Anna,

The last hour or so of the party was something of a blur for all of us, I think. But I feel confident in assuring you that both you and Ariadne acted with all due propriety, and that at no point did you “make an ass of yourself,” as you put it, either out among all the guests or in the games room. 

Also, when next you speak to Ariadne, please compliment her on her lovely dress. It suited her quite well! I wondered if you were responsible for finding it for her? You do have such an excellent eye for what colors and cuts will flatter. 

Anyway, do not worry. I have made some private inquiries, and nobody took note of any unusual behavior on the part of either yourself or Miss Bridgestock. (In fact, Rosamund seemed to be under the impression that you were shamelessly flirting with her. I can confirm that you were not and that Rosamund simply has an odd way about her.)

Are we still on for tea Wednesday? Let me know if not and otherwise I will see you then.

Cordelia Carstairs

16:  Townsends » Everybody

For the attention of: 

James Herondale

Lucie Herondale

Matthew Fairchild

Thomas Lightwood

Anna Lightwood 

Christopher Lightwood

Alastair Carstairs

Cordelia Carstairs

On behalf of not just our own family, but the parental generation of the Enclave more generally, we wish to communicate our displeasure with your behavior at our soirée on Friday’s eve. You are all adults or near-enough, under Nephilim Law, and so you should be held to account as any adults would be. And you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Given the influence had by many of your families, and the small size of the London Enclave, we cannot bar you from all of our future events. If only we could. We will, however, be more careful in future about shutting off access to rooms in our house that are not intended for use by party guests.

Rather than taking the time to craft individual complaints, we hereby itemize the most obvious of our grievances, so that you may all have your behavior exposed to one another. Certainly none of you deserve to have your actions kept private.

Alastair: We were glad to see you eventually arrive, though there is a wide difference between “fashionably late” and the hour you appeared. (Just in time for the desserts, we note.) Also, the song you performed was highly inappropriate for the ladies present, especially the unmarried ones, such as our daughter, and also your own sister.

Lucie: While we have always supported your hobby of writing down entertaining tales, and we understand that the storyteller’s art does involve artistic creativity, your ongoing, strident, melodramatic narration of the events following the Christopher Lightwood Incident was not appreciated by us or, especially, Mrs Rosewain, who you referred to throughout as “Mrs Whatshername.” 

James: Your interruption of the cake serving to declare your undying devotion to your true love was a gallant gesture. It might, however, have gone over better had you not pledged your troth to a portrait in oils of our ancestral matriarch, Frideswide Townsend. Your taste is admirable, of course, and she was considered a great beauty. It is unfortunate for your affections that she passed away in the late sixteenth century.

Anna: We would thank you to come by and pick up your brother from our house at some point. He has been muttering to himself, fiddling with a pencil and paper, and threatening “another test, much improved.” Please retrieve him post-haste.

 Thomas: We don’t know how you made the acquaintance of that vampire who attempted to accompany all of the performers on his dulcimer, but he is not welcome back to our house, and if we see him again, neither are you.

Matthew: Whatever was in that bottle you were plying to my mother, we only found her this morning, napping on our roof. When we woke her she said it was of a greenish color and asked for more of it. We would be obliged if you could bring another bottle by, at your convenience.

Cordelia: Your demonstration of the supernatural sharpness of your sword was very impressive, even if it was not in the spirit of the kinds of performance we expected for a musicale. It is, however, not all that surprising that it was able to cut through our drapes, a dining-room chair, or the sponge cake. We spoke to your brother, and he suggested that we should feel free to send an invoice for replacement costs to the Herondale family, since soon enough you will be their trouble, and not his.

In short, you have all behaved abominably, and are, each and every one of you, embarrassments to your various hallowed family names. 

We hope you will join us the Thursday after next, for boating and luncheon in Hyde Park.

Mr and Mrs Graham Townsend