#( agathe speaking. )

[thegraveyardshifts]

@undead-jude

The festivities were nice – that’s all Agathe could think of the whole affair. Nice. Saccharine sweet, a cities attempt to heal from a terrible tragedy that struck hard and fast and ended just as quickly. She observes the crowds milling around as the sun begins to dip, stalls packing up, people deciding to go to the many open clubs and bars and restaurants around New Orleans – Aggie will leave at some point, only to pop up at Venus in Furs with deep red hair and a thick fur coat covering her body with very little underneath. She has plenty of time before then, something even catching her eye…or, rather someone does. Another vampire, well dressed, and her dark eyes seem to sparkle at the idea of connecting with another creature of the night. Maybe, like her, he’s scoping out dinner. Maybe the two of them could go on a hunt, share a neck, the possibilities endless and it takes very little time for Agathe to just appear next to him, bright smile on her face. “Anyone’s blood singing to you today, brother?”

[me-thal]

(bit of an unreliable narrator here Eheh <3

Lycarn belongs to @hel-phoenyx, Ether to @noa-de-cajou and Circé, Morgane and Ai/Xingtzao to @corneille-but-not-the-author)

"Lets' fun away together !" she used to say, half joking when they were just kids. Chiho would never leave her grandmother alone, they both knew it.

"I'm leaving." She still said, a violin all she gave to the girl that loved her and she loved just as much. She never came back, not for Agathe, not for her grandmother. There was hope for two years. Then Yusuke came back alone, and even with her eyes closed, Agathe could picture the look of pity he gave her.

"Take care of him, please." She tells the old woman, now that her brother is asleep. Their parents are dead, and she can't stay here. He was the one to push her to do it, to leave and explore. The old woman still weeps and begs her to come back one day, and play at her tomb. Agathe promises.

"She likes you too, you know ?" It's been years. She's older, she has friends. They've been drinking, and when she tries to talk about something else, the alcohol makes her friend insist. She hates how he, who got her love first, seems to try so hard to make the second choice happy. But he's her friend, and she loves his wife.

"Take care love." It's the last words she tells her, when their paths diverge. It's a nickname they rarely use, only when it's only the three of them. Ogami hugs her, and she hugs him back. They're around as old as her parents were when they died. And she doesn't want to see that. Maybe they're still young for humans, but she doesn't want to take the risk. Her lips touch Shira's for the last time and they dont say goodbye.

"You're doing it again." He tells her, as perceptive as ever. They spent the last fifteen years together, she taugh her nephews and nieces what their fathers couldn't. But only him, her dear brother, could see how she was, alone fixing a grave she couldnt see. His husband was dead for a year, he knew he wouldn't last a lot younger. He knew his sister, immortal and still so young, was staying for him, for "his" family. He knew she had a hard time thinking it was hers, a fear so deeply rooted in her.

"Thank you." She tells him when she leaves again, and he tells her and she hugs him for the last time.

"What do you think ?" So many people ask her, when they warm her bed or her skin. She never stays long, always tells her the truth. It's rare she dislike those girls, rare they dislike her. Yet, she always knows she's not what they wanted. She knows had their initial love not rejected them, they wouldn't have though of her for a second. And yet, they're always her first choice, her first flirt of the night.

"I want to marry you." Irène tells her, figuratively looking in eyes that are never open. She doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to react. It's been ten years, is that a normal time to marry someone ? She does have her skin tattoed like the rest of the group, does feel the need to have her lover's name on her. She hopes her name stays on Irène's face, that when she touches her face she can feel her name on her skin and prouve to herself she's loved, she's her first choice.

"You dont get it ! You can't even see it !" They never fight. It's not in their nature, despite Irène's hot-headdedness, to get into shouting matches like now. But now they are, and Agathe wants to slap the woman she loves, the woman who fears her and loves her. She just expressed how she was afraid for their fight, the next day. How she proposed to Irène to use a Symphony so dangerous she somehow knows despite never learning it, like she does her Sister Symphony. Sins and Vertues. She doesn't know how it escaladed. But she knows how it ends.

"Maybe I'd see it, if you weren't so scared of me opening my eyes !" Is the last thing they say to each other. They didn't wake her up, Irène probably looking to stop her from playing her music. And now she's dead, in Agathe's arms, cold and her blood stains the white of Agathe's outfit and wings.

"Please allow me something." She did it in a moment of panic. She didn't know what was going to happen to them, now that Morgane and Circé were gone, as were the rest of the group. She wished she could have spoke with Lycarn before, but she kissed Ether and it felt right to ask her, even if the elf wanted the empress before she wanted Agathe.

"Do you want something ?" She asked Lycarn, who was looking so, so sad. She had seen Circé's aura leave the woman, and even if she wasn't the girl's first choice, she wanted to make her happy, let her have something at least. So she took her hand, kissed her, carressed her. She felt the subtle scars, the muscles. She wanted to give enough love that Lycarn would forget how she got rejected. But Lycarn would pursue a ghost, and she knew it very well.

"Come dance with us." A hand is stretched out to her, a stick in it. Ether is asking her to court her, to date her. And she doesn't need to see to know Xingtzao, the empress is surprised, but she says nothing. She takes the hand, ignoring the voice in her head, just for a night, and dances with two women she wants to stay alive with.

"Can you describe them to me ?" It's soft, barely audible to most ears, but they're both next to her, and they have better hearing than most. So they tell her. They take her hand. She smiles to herself.

"Can I ask you something...?" It's been so long, since their quest, and yet Ai is so timid with her still. Agathe is not sure how to take it, how to dance with the woman who made her First Concubine but seems almost perturbed by Agathe's presence in the palace. Or, that's how she sees it. And she can't blame the empress, who would be comfortable to live with the woman your wife is in love with ? Even if Agathe knows Ether would choose Ai over her, and she wouldn't blame her.

"Do you need something, my moon ?" It's soft, when she asks. Lycarn is no stranger to bad dreams, but Agathe knows when her love's really shaken by one. She also knows it usually mean Lycarn's chasing a ghost that Agathe could never compare to. She doesn't resent Lycarn for it, nor does she resent Ether when she misses her deceased wife. She knows that feeling too well, has known it for years.

"I feel so... Lonely." She says to herself, when centuries have past. She's back to a village that died when she wasn't here. Can't yet bear to go look at where her loves are burried. She didn't see the Immortal King to tell him about Lycarn yet. She cries, like a little girl.

"I miss you." She tells to no one in particular, maybe hoping Death would let someone, anyone, choose her and help her, see how pathetic she is.

"I love you." It's barely a whisper.

[lottiesboy]

Do you have any more mama Agatha fics? :o

not right now! but i don’t see me stop writing for agatha for a while :3

[thegraveyardshifts]

I am not your Levi anymore. The revelation causes Agathe to blink, just the once, a reaction so barely seen in the vampire who did very little to appear human in general. The more her progeny spoke, the more she stilled and stayed still as the words sunk in and registered slowly. I've met someone.

It hung for what felt like too long, the vampire not able to swallow so easily the sour taste of bile that rose in her throat at discovering that Levi considered himself no longer hers. Absurd. He'd be dead without her, he was her blood and would always belong to her. Perhaps he just needed a reminder of who really, truly was in control here.

The vampire smiled with practiced ease, giving the other a gentle pat on the shoulder in an encouraging way as if proud of him for this. You left me, didn't you? And how wonderful that turned out.

"I'm not upset," Agathe lied easily. "Go. I shall let the other one run for a second, I love watching the hope drain from their face,"

her disapproval did not go unnoticed and again levi finds himself wondering if he's disappointed her. but hearing her call him hers makes him chew the inside of his lip, as if trying to hold something back. he looked at her for a moment before ultimately deciding that she needed to know. she needed to be aware of how things were going to be between the two of them now, that he wouldn't be won back so easily. she had a pull on him, always would, but levi was still angry at her. what he was going to say wasn't because he wanted to hurt her, he doubted he had that ability, it was simply levi trying to be honest. and she would find out soon or later, it might as well be from him.

"i would love nothing more than to have your company tonight in my hunt, and perhaps afterwards we can enjoy a nightcap somewhere. we can talk." they had a lot to talk about, after all. "but i need you to know that...i am not your levi anymore. i can't be your levi, not like before, not again." he had hoped that when this day came it would've been with leto as his husband, not his ex-boyfriend, but such was his luck. "i've met someone." he shrugs, "things may be a bit shitty with them right now, but it doesn't make me any less theirs."

he waits for a moment, letting that hang in the air. “if you’re upset…please don’t be. you left me, didn’t you? you should be thrilled that i am now someone else’s problem.” levi sighed, “sort of. regardless, my point stands.” a couple walks by them and levi watches them for a moment. he turned to agathe, “can i?”

[junedenim]

sit there and watch

one day here, part five

warnings: dad!al, fluff, smut, piv, probably something inconsistent

word count: 12k

They come here every summer. It’s become a family tradition for their own little family. Lottie’s maman, Agathe, moved to Meux right after Franny was born. She had a boyfriend, Emmanuel, out here, now her husband and Lottie’s stepfather, even if it is only technically speaking. She lives just on the outskirts of the town with vibrant green grass in her backyard that right upon arrival Alex always seems forced to mow.

But Lottie loves it. She loves being with her mother and speaking French and the way the air smells slightly of Brie cheese and lilies. Franny loves it because it’s summer vacation and she gets to see her mamie. Lulu loves it because she seems to love everything. Ever since she learned how to giggle it is all she does. 

Franny from the moment she met her sister, Eloise, she called her “Lulu.” She climbed into Lottie’s hospital bed, burrowed into her mother’s side, peeked over at the other little baby girl who was now her living, breathing sister, and declared, “This is Lulu.” She tapped Lulu’s little baby nose that curled up in response and from then on everyone has called Eloise “Lulu.” Lottie thought Eloise was tired anyway, but they couldn’t think of anything else. They should’ve known to just ask Franny.

They took the train down to Paris a few days ago, spending a few nights there in one of Lottie’s out-of-town friend’s apartments before driving to Meux. Franny has been looking forward to this trip ever since Alex promised her that he would teach her how to ride a bike. She has been jealous ever since last summer when Lottie and Alex went for a bike ride while she napped. She still hasn’t quite wrapped her head around why they would want to spend time without her.

It’ll be Lulu’s first time there. She’s no more than ten months old, sucking on her thumb, born with a giddy smile. It’s hard to predict who she’ll look like more but just like Franny, she seems to resemble Lottie more. She’s blonde, which knocks out the whole hair claim Alex had before. She does have Alex’s eyes, only they look much better on her—big and wide on her little cupcake face—than they ever did on him.

Franny is Lottie’s mini-me. This was established from the moment she popped out. Besides her tresses of brown hair courtesy of Alex, Franny got everything from Lottie, even a little French accent on certain words that Alex is terrified will slowly become more and more British as she gets older. He can’t bear the idea of her not saying squirrel like skweerul. It’s adorable and heart-achingly cute in her little high-pitched kid voice.

A week after his birthday, he had put Franny to bed and returned to the living room to find Lottie typing on her laptop. Alex slumped down on the couch, picked her feet up, and rested them in his lap. He rubbed them as if it was as soothing for him as it was for her. 

She stared at him intensely waiting for him to feel the weight of her stare on him. His head was tilted back and his eyes closed, resting from wrestling Franny to sleep. But he feels it eventually—the pull of her, dragging the tether between the two of them, demanding his eyes.

He rests his cheek against the couch cushions. “What?” He laughs because her gaze is too much for him sometimes. He’d do anything for those eyes and what a terrifying prospect to one day fail those eyes, to lose the glint in them, the special upturn that pokes into her cheeks just for him. He loves her so much and he doesn’t care how plain it is, he’ll think about it every day, every minute, every second.

It’s equal. It gets her heart pounding. He can tell because it takes her extra long to respond. She shuts her laptop and puts it on the floor. She curls herself up against him like she’s a little cat. She makes herself so small and tucks herself into all the corners of him just as she did to every corner of his life. “I have something to say.”

“Okay?” He questioned. She’s not usually one for preamble. She spits it out and her sudden hesitancy left him worried.

She reached up and stroked his cheek. She drew a line along the bone, pointing at his lips. She spoke in riddle, “I thought I’d be better at this the second time. I mean, we’re not freaking out in a little apartment. We’re married and we have Franny and the space for it but still it’s not…planned.”

His face was a puzzle. She couldn’t make sense of what he was thinking. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Are you pregnant?”

She shrugged because she had to be nonchalant about these things. She makes a big deal out of small things but rarely does she jump up and down and rub things in your face. “I think.”

Maybe because Lottie gets to carry the kid. She knows her body inside and out and she can feel whatever is inside there. But he doesn’t understand how she could just shrug her shoulders. It’s where they differ. “Did you take a test?”

She nods.

“When?”

“Halfway through Little Red Riding Hood but I found out before you finished Rumplestiltskin.”

He laughed and he’s pretty sure he cried too and he couldn’t make a single move, his brain was completely fried, but he wanted to hug her so tightly that neither of them would be able to breathe. “Fucking hell, Lot. Are you serious?”

“No, I decided to do April Fools’ in January. It’s not definite but I feel it.”

Then, they both were crying like a freeing mist on a hot day. He hugged her and they laid back against the couch and he kissed every inch of her face but also just wanted to stare at her. “Holy shit. Can I tell Franny?”

She giggled and ran her hands through his hair, pushing it back, and scratching her fingers against his scalp. “Wait until morning. She took long enough to get to sleep tonight.”

When Franny found out she declared that the baby would be allowed to play with her Barbies but not her stuffed butterfly, Legos, markers, toy cars, or even look at her stuffed animals because they might like them more than her. They were worried that might be a child worried their new sibling would take away their parents’ attention from them, but Franny insisted it was because she doesn’t care that much about her stuffed animals but she didn’t want anybody else getting them. Lottie joked about calling family services on Franny.

They’ve been here for two days. Agathe has doted over the children since they first placed Lulu in her arms. Agathe met her after she was born but she hasn’t seen her slowly becoming a real human being. Lulu giggles and ducks her head into Agathe’s neck, feeling at home in that maternal hold. 

Franny runs for miles in the grassy fields. She’s a child of nature and he wonders if children were meant to be raised among the birds and insects and grow out of the soil like flowers. She comes back with her feet covered in dirt, a tuft of grass and flowers in her hands, and a big toothy grin on her face. She’s a pain to clean but he can deal with all the splashes she shoves at him as long as she stays happy forever.

Lottie spends her days doing odd jobs. She gets crafty and only opens her laptop to answer emails. She’s unplugged in the way humans are supposed to be. She tells him on the first night that she doesn’t have a headache from staring at her laptop screen for too long. She sat up and said, “Everyone’s asleep but I’m not tired. This might be a first.”

He ruffled his head on the pillow. He rounded his arms around her waist, tugging her closer. He hummed in agreement. “Do you think we could sleep in? Your mum will make breakfast and the door locks, right?”

She leans down, hovering her face inches from his. “Yeah, Al, the door locks.”

Franny has some attachment issues. They’re trying to work on it. She’s clingy and most of the time this attachment applies to Lottie. She talks and talks and talks to her and can’t seem to let her go. It’s a likely offshoot of it being Franny & Lottie against the world for months at a time then quickly followed by a new chic in town. When Lottie showers, Franny will barge in and continue to not leave her alone. The lock on the bathroom door has been broken ever since Franny locked herself in there last year. Alex has been trying his best to allow Lottie to get some alone time but it’s been difficult since Lulu was added into the mix.

One is always crying for something from her, usually, it’s either cuddles or her boobs (Alex wouldn’t mind either). Alex felt insecure about being unable to help out more until Lottie rolled her eyes, brought Lulu to her nipple, and said, “Then grow some boobs, Al.” Sometimes it’s biologically something he can’t change, but he should probably do a better job when it comes to Lottie’s shower time.

But the door locks here and last night Lottie gave him the head of his life because she didn’t have a headache. In the end, still panting from the orgasm, Alex says, “I think we should move here, Lot.”

She shakes her head and tells him to reciprocate. So, he does until she begs him to stop.

Lottie is one of those people who wakes up beautiful. Alex hasn’t wrapped her head around how she can get barely three hours of sleep and look fully rested. She barely runs a brush through her hair, she rarely wears make-up, and yet her face is blushing and her blonde hair falls in glorious waves. But, perhaps, that’s just the way Alex sees it.

Lottie misses the days when her boobs didn’t leak and she didn’t have stretch marks and a C-section scar. She’s lucky if she gets to wash her hair once a week, she doesn’t have time to do make-up because there’s always something pulling on her leg or crying or asking where she put away that shirt he hasn’t worn since the Y2K bug was a threat.

But this morning she takes her time because for what feels like the first time this year, she can. Alex is awake but he is facedown on the pillow, slowly adjusting to the sunlight creeping through. Lottie shifts onto her side, rubbing her pointed foot against the back of his legs. Her hand combs through his hair until he lets out a sound of pleasure. She puts her mouth against his ear and whispers, “It’s like we’re the only two people on Earth.”

He comes out of his shell, slightly tilting his head to take her in and just enough for her to see that grin peek through. “At least in this room,” he responds. 

“We could do anything we wanted,” she teases him. Her touch is no longer just soothing but taunting. He has a clear view of her breasts because she slept topless last night because he likes her boobs too. She comes close again, right next to his ear, blowing a toe-curling breath against his sensitive skin. “We could sleep for another hour.”

He loves her so much. He pushes her onto her back and smiles so wide he’s laughing. “You love me so much.” His whole body covers her, kissing her excessively over her whole body so much it tickles her and she’s laughing so hard her stomach tenses up and she struggles to breathe. The little urchins definitely hear her laughing. It’s loud enough that the dog is barking.

Agathe has this dog, Skippy. He is the bane of Alex’s existence. He barks and jumps on top of Alex and he’ll find dog hair on himself for the rest of the year. Skippy loves Lottie. He’s quiet and calm with her, laying his head on his black-furred head on her lap and making soft little snores while Lottie’s hand pets his fur. Alex can’t believe he’s jealous of a dog. 

“That fucking dog,” Alex curses, falling on top of Lottie, which only increases her giggling. She places her hands on the soft skin of his back, her nails faint on the line of his spine.

“It’s your fault,” she says. “You have to learn your lesson.” Lottie talks to him like he’s a child. She’s always been motherly. She’s his oracle, giving him the prophecy to lead the way. She’s his guidepost. 

“Another hour of sleep is probably out now.” He sighs and rolls onto his back.

Her eyes follow his body. “I don’t think we were ever going to get another hour of sleep, Al.” She flicks the sheets off of her and gets out of bed.

Alex groans. “I don’t even get cuddle time.”

She looks so beautiful in this light. The sun peeps in just right, intruding on their time politely shining directly on her like a spotlight. She looks good in any light, even in the dark when he can’t see her, but he can feel her and picture her so clearly, she’s ethereal. “T'es belle,” he says.

She heads for the guest bathroom and hides half her face behind the door as she tells him, “Ta gueule.” He’s smug. His French is getting better and is now good enough to embarrass Lottie. He can now make her blush in two languages.

Franny eats apple slices with her two hands. It’s the same way she eats carrots like she’s a rabbit. She chews on it in little bits with her front teeth that her dentist said she’ll probably lose first because of the pressure she places on them. She didn’t inherit the best dental genes. She’s desperate to lose a tooth and Alex suspects she prays to the Tooth Fairy after finding letters addressed to her with a drawing of a tooth and a fairy like the Tooth Fairy goes by symbols like Prince. 

This morning, she’s chowing down on apple slices like her life depends on it. Alex kisses the top of her head as she chants the words to “Au clair de la lune.” Lulu squirms in her highchair, kicking her chubby legs and shaking her body. She blabbers gibberish and he kisses the top of her head too before grabbing a cup of coffee.

Agathe is cutting up another apple for Franny. “You’ll need to get Johnny Appleseed to replenish what she’s eaten.”

Alex laughs. He likes Agathe. She’s the least intimidating parent he’s ever met. The first time they met was at her Parisian apartment. She had a cigarette in her mouth when she opened the door and was dressed as if she was about to have her portrait painted. She talks about herself so excessively that Alex didn’t have a question directed his way until months later when Lottie told her mother she was pregnant. She asked him, “Do you have any other children?” She was joking but he didn’t know that until she let out a cackle.

It’s strange that such an oddball raised Lottie. Agathe wears purple eyeshadow and spent half her life working as an elevator operator and now she sells odd things at the local flea market. To him, Lottie is by the book and proper until she comes here and has a glass of wine with her maman then he finds out things about her that he never knew like how when she was younger so wanted to be one of those living statue people and practiced holding her body still for several hours. Agathe says she was very good and could’ve had a successful career if she kept at it.

Alex takes the plate of apple slices over to Franny, who is drawing with crayons in the colouring book Emmanuel gifted her. He sits down opposite her. Lulu is at the end of the table, still wiggling in her high chair. Alex takes her out and holds her in his lap to calm her down. She still kicks her legs but doesn’t try to get out of his grasp.

Franny lifts her head, takes a itsy bitsy bite out of her apple slice, and asks, “Where’s mummy?”

“In the shower. What are you drawing?” He asks to distract her. She lifts up the page, covered in the colours of the rainbow. It’s a picture of rabbits, relatively coloured inside the lines. Alex earnestly tells her, “That’s really good, Fran.”

She puts the book down. “It’s not done yet.”

“But it’ll be great, I know it.”

She stares at him trying to decide whether to believe him or not. She tilts her head and he can see Lottie in her eyes, cross-examining him, trying to detect the lie. When his face doesn’t budge, she smiles wide. “Thanks, daddy.” She returns to colouring and he just watches her.

There might be something egotistical about having kids and wasting long hours staring at them like Narcissus with his reflection, but Alex can’t help it. He is completely and utterly fascinated by everything they do. The things they smile at, the things they laugh at, the things they reach for, what they try to say. Every time he looks, there’s something different about them, something new, and that both captivates him and scares the shit out of him. He doesn’t wanna miss anything, especially the big stuff.

Franny has these little red rain boots Alex’s mum got her for her birthday because Alex used to have a pair of his own. Lottie said it was her favourite photo of him. He can’t be more than six years old and he’s got the two boots on, there’s not a single drop of rain on the ground and he’s got a smile so big he could steal the part of the Cheshire Cat. His smile is tilted upwards even though the camera is right in front of him.

He doesn’t remember the photo but he remembers how much he cherished those little red boots and how devastated he was when he outgrew them. He hopes against every scientific belief that Franny will never outgrow her pair, even if it means foot-binding practices. 

Lottie comes out dressed in a pair of his trousers and one of her detailed blouses with a towel wrapped up in her hair. She grabs her coffee first knowing once Franny gets a whiff of her she’ll be pulled away before she can get caffeine. 

Franny squeals when Lottie sits beside her and starts rattling off about colouring and apples and bunnies and Lulu’s wiggly legs and Lottie listens intently to every word and asks questions back. It’s a good way for Franny to understand that it takes two people to make a conversation and you’re not supposed to talk over the other person. Franny hangs on every word her mother says. She copies are mannerisms and asks for help with her colouring. So, Lottie picks up a crayon and assists under the instructions of Franny. Alex and Lulu just watch.

Agathe handmakes dolls. They are stuffed little ragdolls that have short chopped pieces of yarn for hair, two buttons for eyes, a stitched-on smile, and leftover handkerchiefs for a dress. Franny is utterly terrified of them. She screamed and cried and bawled her eyes out when she was given one for her second birthday. She curled up into Alex’s arms until it was put away. Getting older hasn’t diminished her fear much.

The dolls must be hidden away in the craft cupboard where Agathe keeps all the materials she uses for items sold at the Sunday flea market. Growing up Lottie used to help her make them, that’s where she got her crafty art skills from. Last night, Lottie pulled up a chair and helped her mother. Alex tried to help. Lottie took him through step by step, but he kept poking his finger with the needle.

Lottie has become the mother who crafts her children’s Halloween costumes. Franny wanted to be a witch last year so Lottie made sure she was the best darn witch ever. For Franny’s birthday party, she spent the night before bossing Alex around on how to hang the streamers just right. She was about six months pregnant and it wasn’t advisable to stand on a ladder, but she refused to let up.

She considers it to be the fun part of motherhood. After all the tantrums and crying and early awakenings, she gets the look on Franny’s face when she wakes up the next morning to purple balloons and a chain of letters that spelled out “Happy Birthday!” 

Lottie has always been more physically creative than him. He still struggles with a straight line. Alex thinks she should sell her paintings or put on an art show but Lottie continues to insist that it’s only a hobby. Alex thinks that if her mother can sell these scary little dolls for a living, Lottie could make a fortune off of her art. She denies it but kisses his cheek.

Once Franny declares she is done colouring she insists upon going outside and demands Alex teach her how to ride a bike now. Alex is only about halfway through his coffee and holding a whiny Lulu which means she’ll be in need of a diaper change soon.

Lottie anticipates everyone’s move. She grabs Franny’s hand and declares they will go outside together. She challenges her to a game of hopscotch and searches the drawers for chalk so they can draw the outline.

Alex lays Lulu down and changes her. Once she’s all dressed again, Alex blows a raspberry on her and she erupts into giggles. It’s his favourite sound ever. If he could package it up to keep it with him forever he would. He would pay any amount of money it would take. She looks up at him with a toothless grin and he sighs feeling every load come off of his shoulders.

He holds Lulu close to him and joins Lottie and Franny in the front yard. Lottie is hopping one foot, two foot, one foot, two foot when he comes out. The sun pours down in a perfect fashion. The day is bright but there is no sweat collecting on his skin. Last summer, it felt like the weather was inflicting pyrexia on his soul, but this year the breeze blows just right. 

The two girls are too engaged in their game to notice the onlookers. Lulu’s body is turned out looking eager to join the fun. Alex would let her if she had gained control of her two legs but she’s too wiggly. By the time Franny was Lulu’s age she was walking but Lulu hasn’t tried to stand yet. They’re not worried about it. She’s an active baby, just a tad clumsy, always on the move, a flimsy move, but a move nonetheless. Alex was the same. Maybe still is the same.

The girls were quick but detailed with the sketching of the hopscotch court. Lottie drew the boxes and then Franny drew the numbers in. On the side of the outline are flowers and two butterflies. One done by Franny and one done by Lottie, but the one each drew represented the other. The butterflies are tangled together. The one drawn by Franny is bigger than the other but is coloured yellow, Lottie’s favourite colour. Lottie’s drawing is smaller, but detailed, outlined blue but dotted with pink and purple with a red body, all Franny’s favourite colours because she just can’t choose.

Lottie makes it to the end and notices Alex. She sends him a smile but stays silent. Franny tosses the lagger and hops away, slow but steady. Franny says, “Watch me! Watch me!” Lottie obeys and watches closely, cheering Franny on.

Back home, a few months back, when the icy winter began to melt and give a glimpse of brighter times, Alex built Franny a swingset. Alex doesn’t claim to be a handyman. He can’t fix your sink and he sometimes struggles with the correct batteries to use for the TV remote, but he’d like to think he’s pretty decent at building things. He put together each crib and bed frame in the house. He’s no woodworker but with some help, he can manage.

So, with the assistance of Lottie reading out from the instruction manual, Alex took his time, let out a few curses, and built Franny her swing set. The entire time they were setting it up, Franny ran around the yard in one of the boxes, truly proving the point that kids have more fun with the box than whatever is inside it. 

But Franny does love the swings, specifically making Alex push her. She really really knows how to milk it too, pouting her bottom lip out and saying she just needs help getting started. She hasn’t quite mastered the whole pumping your legs in and out mechanism or maybe she doesn’t want to because Alex will push her for as long as she asks.

There’s a cherry tree that grows in that backyard. It’s been there since before Alex owned the place. Franny is obsessed with it. She reaches her tiny hands up, begging for one to plop right into her lip. She hates eating them because she’s terrified of the pit, but she loves the shape and colour of them. She’ll whine until one of the taller folks pulls one down for her. She cries when they are out of season, no longer growing. 

Lottie says it’s a lesson not only on nature but that things won’t stay the same forever. Alex thinks there’s nothing wrong with wanting things to stay the same forever. He isn’t fighting to change anything. He hasn’t been a fan of growing pains since puberty. Plus, he likes the cherries too and he’s annoyed when the tree loses its leaves and beauty.

However, Lottie says that she finds that is when the tree is the most interesting to look at. You can see the true shape of it, how its branches are shaped, and the way it blows with the wind. She made this breathtakingly scenic painting of it that now hangs in their living room. It’s one of the few Lottie will confess she actually likes. Alex has been trying for years to break Lottie’s self-deprecating habits, but he admittedly shares the habit too, which Lottie is also trying to break.

Lulu loves the tree too. Unfortunately, it’s becoming an issue. One day, Franny asked for a cherry. Alex, with Lulu on his hip, pulled one down for her. He didn’t pay attention to the other one with just enough height and grubby little hands that were apparently strong enough to break one of the branches. She stuffed it into her mouth quickly.

Lottie came out a few minutes later and asked, “What’s all over Lulu’s face?” Lulu isn’t well-coordinated and only has a few teeth. The cherry was smacked around her mouth with barely any making it inside. The remains stained her shirt, but she smiled and giggled and Lottie took a picture before they gave her a bath.

Agathe and Emmanuel’s home is in a quaint part of Meaux, just on the outskirts, where every house is separated by a perch of land then lined with shrubs. The house is small but has more rooms than two people need thus each member of the Turner family gets their own room. Lulu will room with Franny when Gabriel and his kids come into town in a few days. 

Lulu and Franny tend to get along. Franny loves hugging Lulu and squeezing her cheeks, but they’ve never shared a room. Franny can whine near bedtime and Lulu doesn’t always sleep through the night. It could end in disaster, but Lottie, filled with optimism hopes it’ll bond the two girls even more. Alex is wary. 

The Meaux home could qualify as an arboretum. The backyard vicinity has trees that are so tall that Franny believes they are part of the sky. Giants roaming around among humans. She hugs every single one. She’s always treated plants as a creature of their own kind in need of love. She’s terrified and fascinated by them. She leans her back up against them and tells tales that Lottie and Alex don’t understand but believe they contain a secret message from her to the trees. 

“Daddy!” Lottie hollers. His eyes snap out of the sky and to the little creature standing before the first square. “Watch! Watch!” She hops one foot, two feet, one foot, two feet until she reaches the end and declares, “I win! Now, bike time?”

She’s been patient, even if she’s pestered on about it for a near-month now. The area is much more secluded here, not running the risk of a freak accident happening with traffic. Gabriel’s youngest son outgrew his kiddie bike and left it here for Franny. She endured all day yesterday and to hold her off any longer would be torture.

“Okay,” Alex agrees. Franny is cheering before the full word has even left his mouth.

There are these moments that he can tell Lottie will remember forever. She’ll tell stories of them for the rest of her life. She’ll talk about them at the dinner table when everyone is older and there are more people than chairs and she’ll tell everyone about the day Alex taught Franny how to ride a bike. He can see it in her eyes with the way they glisten as she takes Lulu from his arms. 

She twinkles at him with her smile and tells him, “The bike is in the garage. Tell maman to come out here. And will you bring a chair for me too?”

“Yeah.” He stands there for a moment with his hands on his hips, watching her sway with Lulu to keep the transfer from her father’s arms to her mother’s arms calm. Her body moves slowly and he thinks of the many different situations he’s seen her body move like that. He feels like he’s lived a whole lifetime with her in these short swaying moments.

He squeezes her shoulder and kisses her cheek before heading inside. He hears Franny cheer and jump around as he leaves. Lottie says to her, “Waouh! T’es trop cool!”

Alex sets up two chairs for Lottie and Agathe, who brings out two iced cold lemonades with straws that Alex is envious at the sight of. Lulu sits contently on her mother’s knees and her tiny little fingers grab on the buttons of Lottie’s shirt. She gurgles and listens in on the chit-chat shared between her maman and mamie. 

He strolls out with the bike and Franny delightedly claps her hands. Alex lowers the bike seat for her and Franny tugs on his back pockets losing her willingness to wait. Alex bends down and puts the bike helmet over her Lilliputian head. She grins wildly as he clips the buckle. “Are you ready?” He asks.

She aggressively nods, knocking the helmet back and forth. She grabs the bike handles and mounts her horse. “Only let go when I tell you,” she commands.

Franny has been confident through the whole process. It comforts him to know she isn’t being overly confident and reckless. She’s always been a sensitive baby. She likes holding hands, piggyback rides, and lying on chests. 

Alex hopes what Franny will remember about her early years is the naps they took together with her head planted in the nook of his neck, her soft quiet little snores, and the way she hiccups in her sleep. The night before Lulu was born, Franny fell asleep on Alex’s chest. In her last few moments as an only child, he hopes she’ll remember falling asleep together.  

Lottie doesn’t like napping and when she was pregnant Franny couldn’t lay on her body, so Alex considers this to be just for him and Franny. She’s inherited his ability to nap. Lulu is more clunky with sleep. She’s been a colicky baby and a light sleeper. Franny will conk out in the middle of rock concerts. For his livelihood and parenthood, he’s thankful for both.

The bike has a little basket in the front of it and Franny declares, “I can put all my toys there!”

Alex puts his hand on Franny’s back and holds the bike still under his grasp. “Your feet on the pedals?” She nods. “Good grip on the handles?” She nods. “Helmet tight enough?” She nods. “You ready?” She nods.

For a few rounds, Alex simply pushes the bike up and down the street with Franny steering so she can get a feel for it. At each pass, the audience of Lottie and Agathe clap. Lulu starts to attempt to clap as well, though her hands are too itty and soft to make much noise, but it’s an adorable sight.

Franny begins to pedal with Alex stirring and she’s much better at this legwork than she is at the swings. “Mummy! Are you watching me?” 

Agathe answers for the group, “We can’t stop looking at you, Francoise!”

“Is Lulu watching?” She asks as she readjusts her grip.

“Yes. I’m sure she wishes she could be learning to ride a bike right now.”

“I can teach her!” Every day Franny teaches Alex something. He can’t imagine what knowledge an infant is soaking up from her. The other day Franny corrected his French pronunciation. She’s a total smarty pants.

When Lottie first moved into his London home, she was about five months pregnant with Franny. She sat on the floor in her last few days of being able to wear her own jeans. She sorted through her boxes of things and mixed her books with his books.

“We both have The Stranger,” he said.

Without looking up, she said, “Mine’s in the original French.” She only possesses the pretentious French stereotype when it comes to proving French is far more beautiful than English, even though he agrees with her every time. Lottie is wicked smart and he feels dumb as a doorknob next to her.

Still, she told him that he’ll never be able to understand the beauty of the opening line “Aujourd’hui Maman est morte.” He can’t but he’s trying. He attempted to read her copy of The Stranger when she was in labour.

She swatted at him and corrected every other word and said he shouldn’t read a book that starts with the line “Maman died today” when she is about to give birth. Still, he kept trying, intentionally getting worse and worse to distract her from the pain.

He’s getting better. He can read Le Petit Prince to Franny, though Franny has started correcting him too. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she said last night. Alex thinks she spent too much of the day with Agathe.

“I want to try now,” she decides, feet on the pedals and a white-tight grip on the handles. A few seconds later she adds, “But stay close.”

“I’m always right behind you,” he promises.

Franny takes her time, hesitating to take off before she is fully prepared and balanced. He doesn’t rush her, already impressed by her bravery. She’s more insistent and gallant than he ever was. He fears she’ll be attempting the death ramps soon.

She takes a deep breath, something Lottie always tells everyone to do before a big, scared moment. He does it before shows now, even when he’s not nervous. It feels like Lottie is there right beside him when they are oceans apart. Franny lets the big breath out and kicks off. She pedals quickly and pants heavily like she just finished a marathon in her first few pedals.

Suddenly, she sails by, riding down the street as Alex jogs after. She u-turns with no issues and as she reaches back to Agathe, Lottie, and Lulu, she yells to Alex, “I don’t know how to stop!”

Alex is an idiot. After learning how to start, the next thing you should be taught is how to stop. He forgot about that part. Franny panics and starts screaming despite not being near anything that would cause her to crash and she’s riding at about a turtle’s pace.

Alex grabs the handlebars and stops her. She’s already crying, her face completely wet and red. “I didn’t like that,” she cries. 

She hobbles off the bike and into Alex’s arms. She cries into his shoulder. He already feels the wetness soaking through. “You’re okay. You're doing great,” he whispers softly in her ear and rubs her back in circular soothing patterns. 

Lottie joins them, placing her hand on top of Franny’s head, playing with the braid in her hair. “Baby, you’re okay,” she says. Franny whimpers in his neck, wanting to hide away. Her grip is tight on his collar. All he can do is keep rubbing her back. “Take a deep breath,” Lottie says.

“You know, I can’t ride a bike, Francoise!” Agathe yells from the lawn. “Neither can Lulu!”

Franny lifts her head. Her long lashes are wet and her cheeks are red. She places one of her hands into a fist and bites down on it. Lottie directs her with a deep breath until she calms completely. “Can I have some lemonade?”

“Of course,” Alex says. 

Franny sits in Lottie’s lap and sips away at her glass. Lulu is content in Agathe’s arms, babbling nonsense to herself. After a few burps, Franny says, “I want to try again.”

“Are you sure?” Lottie questions.

Alex gets the feeling Lottie is more nervous than Franny. “I want to ride bikes with you.”

Lottie hugs Franny close to her and kisses the top of her head. “You have your whole life to ride bikes with us.”

“I just want to ride a bike, mummy. It’s no big deal.” She hops off Lottie’s lap and says, “Come on, daddy. We’ve got business to attend to.” She leaves laughter in her wake and eventually, Alex gets it together to walk with Franny.

They go over braking multiple times before Franny tries by herself again. With no issues, Franny rides her bike down the street and when she returns to her audience she announces, “I did it!” She hops off the bike and runs over to Lottie. “Can I dance now?”

Alex has tried teaching Franny piano. They’ve accomplished “Chopsticks” but Franny’s fingers are too short to do much else without assistance, but she likes to watch. He tried to teach Lottie piano years ago but they got into a big argument because Lottie doesn’t like to fail at things and Alex wasn’t the best teacher back then. 

They’ve matured since then and Lottie can now do “Chopsticks” with Franny. She says she prefers to watch. She’ll sit on the floor and do one of those Montessori puzzles with Lulu. Lottie always claps Lulu’s hands together when Franny and Alex finish a song. 

Alex thinks Franny has grown too accustomed to applause after everything she does. She started to curtsy after finishing basic tasks so they put her in ballet. She wears these tiny little ballet slippers and a black leotard with a flowy pink skirt. She dances everywhere now; the park, grocery store aisles, during dinner, she even does a little wiggle in the bath.

So, when she wants to dance, Lottie tells her to dance out on the front lawn. Alex brings a chair out to sit beside Lottie, sitting Lulu in his lap, and steals a sip of Lottie’s lemonade. Franny flails around the grass. Her dancing is limited but in her head, she’s a prima ballerina. Alex can’t help but watch.

“She has a feisty spirit,” Agathe says. “Quite a mignonne.”

“I guess we did pretty well in that department,” Lottie says.

“Yes,” Agathe agrees, curling her index finger in a wave to Lulu, “you were an ugly baby.”

Lottie snorts. “I know. You don’t have to pull out the photos.”

“I was so worried that you would stay that way, but by the time you were this old” she points to Lulu “you grew into your looks. You’ve only gotten more beautiful.”

“Hush, maman,” Lottie tells her.

Agathe doesn’t argue with her plea. “Were you an ugly baby, Alex?”

Alex chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

Lottie grabs his shoulder, squeezing it a few times. “He was a very beautiful baby. That’s where the girls get their eternal cuteness. I sent you the rainboots photo.”

“Oh, yes,” Agathe says. “Francoise looks just like you.”

“Really?” Alex questions. He wonders if Lottie has trained her mother to say this. Nobody else has ever attempted to tell Alex he and Franny look alike.

“Certainly. She’s got your head of hair. Lottie didn’t learn how to smile until she was 10. She would bite her teeth down and show them like she was an animal. Her cheeks were never wide and bright. Franny’s got that grin of yours.”

“Yeah and you both dance the same,” Lottie says with her eyes watching Franny.

She twists and turns and jumps around. Her hands point and she makes up the choreography as she goes but looks as if she’s putting on a Broadway show. For a moment, Alex can see himself in her. She has no shame as she whips her head around, searching the grass for butterflies and fairies, her own secret world.

She imagines whole new places for herself. She talks about them, draws them, and plays in them. She wore these sparkly pink costume fairy wings for a week because she claimed to have been magically transformed into one and couldn’t return to human form until she completed all her tasks. They never found out what the tasks were but she spent a suspicious amount of time digging in the backyard.

Agathe looks at her watch and says she should be heading to the market. Lottie helps her mother load up the car with all those ragdolls and Alex makes sure to distract Franny until they are all concealed. The whole car ride to the flea market Franny chants, “Market time! Market time! Market time!”

Typically this would annoy the shit out of Lottie but there is something so endearing when Alex joins in making a little song out of it. Lulu joins in with her little squeaks. Lottie allows it, but only for the five-minute car ride. She forbids it for the whole time they are at the market.

Alex walks around with Franny while Lottie helps her mother set up. Franny tugs on his hand, pulling him to the booths she finds most interesting. The first is a candle booth that Alex feels like he might barf because all the scents are so overwhelming. The second is a fruit stand where he has to hold Franny’s hands back from contaminating every piece of fruit. The third is a pastry stand where Franny presses her face up to the glass and demands a chocolate croissant. Alex’s mouth begins to water and he kind of wants one too. 

“Bonjour. Uh, deux pain au chocolat.” He holds two fingers up to assist with his request. Franny digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet for him because she wants to “pay” for it. The cashier takes the money from Franny and gives the bag to Alex. “Merci. Beaucoup.” 

She tugs on his leg as they walk back in the direction of Agathe’s booth. “Gimme. Gimme.”

“Keep your greedy little hands to yourself or I’ll eat both,” he warns.

Her paws come back to her side. “Please.”

Alex takes one out and bites into it, moaning at the taste. “God, I’m so hungry, Franny.”

She crosses her arms. “Don’t tease, daddy, it’s rude.” Everyone can say Franny looks or acts like Alex, but she’s Lottie down to her core.

He quits testing her patience and gives the bag to her. “Thank you,” she says in her cutest voice—a grade A manipulator in the making.

They stroll through the market like two old pals. Franny devours the treat so quickly you would think it evaporated into the air. Chocolate is smeared around her mouth. Alex hands her a napkin and says, “You got a little something there, mate.”

“Cheers, love,” she imitates. She dirties up the napkin and hands the trash back to Alex. “Merci beaucoup. We should eat those every day.”

He wouldn’t mind that either but he smiles and tells her the parental thing, “I think we’ll settle for special occasions. Nothing is as good as it is in France.”

“That’s what mummy says.”

“I know.”

Franny clings to his side as they near the rag dolls. She looks anywhere but the table they’re sitting on. “They better sell out or Franny will never go near me again,” Agathe says.

“I want to keep walking around,” Franny says.

“I’ll watch Lulu,” Agathe offers Lottie. It’s not much work, Lulu is conked out in the stroller anyway.

Lottie promises, “We won’t be long.” Mainly because she doesn’t want to hang around here too long. These things bore her and Alex swore last night to take her to Saint Stephen's Cathedral. Churches are an aphrodisiac for her and they’re only a couple of blocks from it.

But Franny wants to see the florist booth first. She walks a few paces ahead, skipping away, giving a chance for Alex to put his arm around Lottie. “We got two pain au chocolat and the cashier didn’t think I wasn’t French for a second.” 

He’s exaggerating a little but the dramatics make Lottie giggle. “Did he say you were the greatest French speaker of all time?”

“Oh, yeah, he said I should run for president.”

In these short few moments, it feels like it’s just him and Lottie on a street. They could be anywhere, it doesn’t matter. It feels like the whole world is in her eyes. “Well, I bet you sounded very sexy.” She taunts him by wiggling her eyebrows too. She’s playing his game.

He stares at her then at her lips then at her again. Sometimes she makes him feel young and horny like he could fuck her in the middle of the street. His blood is pumping and he sees the image of it in his head. It would be nice if everyone else could piss off and just let them fuck here. 

He reaches down and pinches her butt just to get one touch in. She squeals and knocks into his chest. “Oui oui,” he says.

She fist bumps his arm but reaches down with her other hand to give him a pinch of his own. He shrieks from surprise and covers his mouth in embarrassment. Lottie giggles. He supposes his shame is worth that much.

Franny loves sunflowers the best because that’s what was embroidered on her favourite overalls, which she’s since outgrown. She goes through the stand and smells each flower one by one trying to figure out which one smells the best. 

Lottie buys a small bouquet of lilies. She holds them down to Franny to smell each offering first before she selects which group of lilies smells the best. She pays for them and sets off for whatever Franny deems is the next booth.

She stops Alex first. She pulls a flower out of the bouquet and snaps the stem off. “For you,” she says, brushing his hair behind his left ear and placing it there. 

It’s evocative. He could cry. It pulls on every piece of him. It takes him a deep breath to remember how to compute. Then, he does the same thing he did the first time: he kisses her. It’s slow and gets the job done. It’s romantic, not sexual, purely a kiss to say “I love you” because he does.

For good measure, when he pulls away he says, “I love you.”

She smiles and says, “Pussy.” She leaves him behind and follows Franny. He takes his first few steps slowly just to make sure he has control of his legs and they don’t give out from under him. He watches her move from behind. She fills out his trousers perfectly like they were made for her. He adds it to the list of things that are a perfect match between him and her.

He feels like a dork for having a list but he’s always thinking these things. One night he wrote it out. They had a fight before bed, something inconsequential, but he could tell Lottie had been hurt by the things said, frustrated by him. After a night of tossing and turning, he debated waking her up to apologize but he figured that would piss her off more.

He went into the living room and dug out one of the legal pads and wrote out those things about them that align in all the right places from the gift of children to how their hands fit in one another to their first conversation to all the books they have duplicates of, except hers are in French and his are in English. It made him feel better and he finally fell asleep after.

She woke him up with a kiss, clutching the list in one hand. It was a brief interaction before she told him to go back to bed. When he woke up she wrote a note of her own about how they’re puzzle pieces that slide into one another and how he picks up where she ends off. She wrote that he fits the hole inside her. That night he said he’d like to fit the hole and she got mad at making a sex joke out of her love note. She’s under a sick twisted belief he’s secretly always mocking her. But after she showered, they had sex and she said they’re learning to understand each other every day and there is no one else she would rather get to know. She’s the romantic poet, not him.

He catches up to them at a jewelry booth. They poke around and Alex offers to buy something for Lottie but she fiddles with the blue pendant hanging from her necklace and says she has all the jewelry she needs. That’s enough to make any boy blush.

They buy Franny a little charm bracelet. She shakes her wrist in the air to jingle the charms together. She stares at it for the rest of the day when they return to Agathe’s booth, she rushes up, paying no attention to those evil dolls, and presents her new dazzling charm bracelet. It seems to yield magic to fight off the dolls’ curse.

Agathe shoos Alex and Lottie off, allowing them momentary alone time to head to the cathedral together. They walk on the stone road hand in hand, in pace with one another, repeating patterns from a thousand times before. There’s a version of them from hundreds of years ago that walked these roads before they were made of stone, only following the natural path they had with one another.

“Franny will probably have a doll nightmare tonight,” Lottie says.

Alex swings their hands. “She’s got her bracelet now. I think we can play up the narrative that it fights off the dolls for long enough that she’ll no longer be scared of the dolls when she realizes it isn’t true.”

“Then, Lulu will probably be scared of them. Franny will tell her stories of them coming to scare her in the middle of the night. Gabriel did that with me, scared me for years with stories of phantoms.”

Alex sighs and shakes his head. “Kids. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

Lottie grants him a laugh. “If they weren’t so cute we’d probably eat them.”

“I’m glad evolution has moved us past that point.”

They come up on the cathedral, the steeple covers the sun and the sky is a clear blue. He feels like he’s looking at a giant. They come here each time but Lottie likes to stand across the street for a few minutes to take it in all over again. During that time, he takes her in. “I should build an altar to you,” he says.

She casts her eyes down from the sky to him. “You’re corny. It’s pathological.”

He moves forward, pulling her behind him. “Most women would swoon at that.”

“Well, I have to stay on my own two feet unless you want to carry all of us girls back home.” She takes his arm and wraps it around herself, personally hugging herself to him. It’s her version of corny words, her whispering back her love. He knows this. It’s just the way they work.

“Emmanuel is going to make dinner tonight, which means maman can watch the girls and you and I can…” She trails off suggestively.

Alex leans closer, rubbing himself up against her. “Can?”

“Have a romantic evening,” she vaguely says because they’re in a church and she can’t start speaking of vulgar things even if they are both thinking it. “I meant you take me out to dinner, not whatever you’re thinking.”

His hand trails lower but doesn’t grab her ass because she would yell at him and say the eyes of god are watching, even though she doesn’t believe in that kind of thing anymore. “I was thinking dinner. And dessert.”

“Of course you were. We have to be back to tuck Franny in and kiss Lulu goodnight.”

Alex corrects her, “You mean, I have to be back in time to tuck the girls in and you have to be back in time to have wine with your mother.”

She smiles at him, her lips are close by but they can’t kiss in a place like this with Saint Stephen watching. He’d throw a brick at them or something. “You’ve been trained very well.”

“Good teacher,” he replies with darkened eyes. He’s dirty. Something about a church makes him filthy. It’s something about not being able to that makes his flirtation stronger. He can’t lay one on her so he has to speak it, to convey it in a look.

He conveys it all right. Enough for her to pull away under the claim of looking around, but more not wanting him to see the look on her face and how she squeezes her thighs together. He’s too much; it feels like she could choke. One day, she’ll choke on all the things he says and does and end up spitting everything out, not being able to contain all this love inside her.

He lets her be and looks around on his own. His eyes forever attracted back to her, the unavoidable magnet pulling him closer and closer. It’s irresistible. She’s too alluring to keep away from.

Alex slides up next to her. “Can I take you out sometime this evening, ma’am?” He bows his head like he’s tipping his imaginary hat to her.

“Are we roleplaying now? Are you in a play and you didn’t tell me?”

“There’s this lovely place on the Marne I thought we could go to.”

She smiles because he always seems to remember these things. The ones she can’t even perfectly recall. “La Péniche?”

“Yes. Have you been before?” 

“Once or twice.” The first time they came to Meaux they went to La Péniche. They got hammered and had sex in the car. It was the first time they had sex after Franny. The locale could be perceived as unromantic but they both would argue otherwise, mainly because there were no crying babies, among other tantalizing things.

La Péniche is a restaurant on the water. It’s a tiny little boat with beautiful views and a feeling of seclusion even when surrounded by people. Alex gets a steak and Lottie gets foie gras and they share a cheese platter. Lottie ends up eating most of the cheese and Alex ends up eating most of her foie gras.

“I forgot what it’s like to have a meal without having to feed someone else,” Lottie complains. They’ve had plenty of meals without the kids but she’s been a bit hazy these days. He can tell she is hungry by the way she munches the cheese two cubes at a time.

“Does that mean I can’t count on you spoon-feeding me dessert?”

“I thought I was getting the special treatment tonight.”

He smirks. “I was referring to other things.”

“Foot massage?”

“Oh, I’ll give you a massage.”

“You’re gross.”

“I could go under the table right now if you’d like.” He’s trying to embarrass her. He does everything to prompt the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

Alex begins to bend down under the table when she kicks him. “Will you stop it? I don’t want to get thrown overboard.”

“Too wet?”

She focuses back on her food before changing the subject, “Gabriel is only bringing Elias. Sacha and Lena are staying with Brigitte.”

Alex groans. “He’s got to bring the annoying one.”

“Al,” she lightly scolds. “Gabriel is upset according to maman. All this divorce drama.”

They’ve all been on the receiving end of a mouthy Gabriel about his divorce from Brigitte, still stretching on. “Let’s promise to never get divorced.”

Lottie smiles across the candlelight to him. She places her head on her chin. “If only for your assets.”

“Like my dick?”

She scoffs. “What is with you tonight?”

“We’re on holiday. I’m horny.”

Her brows furrow. “You’re always horny. What’s so special about tonight?”

He becomes timid, placing his chin to his chest. “I don’t know how else to say this, Lot, but…I’m pregnant.”

She throws her napkin at him. “Don’t mock.”

Across the bridge, they get ice cream. Lottie gets coffee-flavoured. Alex gets one scoop of salted caramel and one of marshmallow but ends up not liking the salted caramel so Lottie has to spoon it out of his cup for him before it infects the marshmallow. He could almost be mistaken for another child.

Alex fails to spoon-feed her ice cream instead ending up getting it on her cheek instead of her mouth. She refuses to let him try again, even if he begs on the drive back home. 

Franny scurries across the room in her pyjamas right when they walk in. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she says with her hands on her hips.

Alex has always been in charge of bedtime. He likes it, especially after over a year of not being able to do it. Franny always demands two stories unless she falls asleep before the first one is finished. Lulu is too young to comprehend more than the sound of his voice is soothing. She’s already asleep in her crib when Lottie goes in to kiss her goodnight.

Lottie and Agathe uncork a bottle of wine and sit in the sunroom. They could gab for hours and hours in the same ways they did when Lottie was Franny’s age. They gossip, Lottie told him that. 

Franny knocks out halfway through storytime. She’s had a long and big day. Alex nearly falls asleep next to her. He checks on Lulu adjusting the stuffed polar bear that now belongs to her. Franny gave it to her when she was born. Something in him reels every time he sees it.

Alex pours himself a glass of wine and sits beside Lottie. The three of them smoke enough cigarettes to put the Zog of Albania to shame, but when in Rome or Meaux or France or wherever. Emmanuel went to bed before Franny. He seems like a ghost in this house, coming home from work, eating dinner, and then crashing.

“He was such a brilliant child and now he’s an idiot,” Agathe said. “I love him. He is very special but he’s never been able to handle women.” Alex tries to play catch-up.

“Ma, you hated Brigitte,” Lottie says while swirling her wine glass around. Ah, Gabriel, yet again.

“Yes, but she’s a smart, strong woman. He was off sticking his cock in the wrong places. I didn’t set a good example.”

Lottie ducks her head down. “Gabriel will get mad at you for saying these things to me.”

“So sensitive,” Agathe snips. She relaxes back into her chair. “You’re right. Alex, supply.”

He looks around. Agathe has never prompted him to come up with a subject matter. “I can’t help you much there. Only child.”

Agathe softly smiles at him ending in a yawn. “I should be heading to bed. Wash the glasses out for me.” She kisses each of their cheeks good night, leaving them alone with the moonlight.

“If it wasn’t so dark I’d suggest a bike ride,” Lottie says.

“Franny would curse you out for that.”

Lottie shushes him. “It could be our little secret.”

Alex shakes his head at her. He doesn’t speak, sending the room into a quiet comfort. He leans his head onto her shoulder wanting to feel like her pet for a moment, wanting to know what it’s like to give his weight over to her. She knows exactly how to move up his back before combing her hand through his hair. He feels settled. 

He drifts away for a moment, shutting his eyes and letting the tension in his shoulders go. Eventually, he flashes back and raises his head. She looks toward him expectantly, waiting for his words. “What was the name of that porn addict boyfriend?”

She giggles confusedly. “What?”

“We’ve told so many jokes about him and you’ve never told me his name.”

She smiles at him and something ticks away in her head that he can’t read but her eyes shift all over his face as if she’s trying to read him as well. “Hans.”

“Hans was handsy.”

She laughs again. This time she lays her head on his shoulder and he flops his on top of hers like two books falling on each other. They sit there until her neck begins to ache. She stands and silently holds her hand out.

They go about their nightly routine. He’s in bed reading when she supposedly goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth but suspiciously shuts the door behind her. He’s not shocked when she comes out in lingerie but he won’t complain.

She crawls into his lap but he stays focused on the book. His mouth quirks up before he turns a page. Lottie sits there in unusual uncertainty, feeling space between them even when they are so close together. She touches his forearm greeted by warmth and hardness. She straddles his waist and waits, but he keeps his eyes on the pages. She scowls. “Okay, I’m sorry, but there’s no way whatever you are reading is more interesting than me.” 

“Yeah? How do you figure?” 

She snatches the book away, tossing it somewhere over her shoulder, and he gets all affronted. “Hey, I was reading that.” 

Lottie manually puts his hands on her thighs. His grip there tightens on his own. “Don’t play games with me. You talked a big game today just to ignore me.” 

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get all riled up crawl into my lap. It’s very cute.” 

“Conniving,” Lottie accuses. 

He grins, pulling her closer, and wrapping his arms around her waist. Their foreheads touch. “It’s nice to know you want me too.”

“If I haven’t given you that impression then you’ve been checked out.” 

His voice is low, face in the crook of her neck now like he’s talking right to her heart. “I like it when you get all hot and bothered like Hans for me.”

She snorts. “Are we including him in our foreplay now?”

“If it gets you flustered.”

She sighs and pulls away from him. “Remember when we used to talk about intellectual things.”

“I’ve watched too much Teletubbies, my brain’s fried.”

She rubs his ear in between her fingers. “Alright, Tinky-Winky.”

“Eh-oh!” He exclaims before pushing her onto her back. He kisses down her neck. His hands feel up her breasts, sitting low in her barely-there bra. He squeezes one, unleashing a yelp from her. She pushes the tight grip off of her and sits up.

He chases after a kiss. A static shock is sent through him and he continues to follow after her. His fingers fiddle until her bra is undone and off. She caresses her way down the planes of his chest. She pushes like he pushes her bottoms off until they’re both pleasantly naked. 

She places her hands on either side of his face and leans up to lock her lips on his. It’s carnal. They rarely get time to do just this. Just sit and kiss. He can’t remember the last time they took it slow and weren’t racing against a privacy clock.

Despite their desperation, neither wishes to rush this. He gets to feel every inch of her, refamiliarizing himself with how soft her skin feels up against his. She grows warmer from his body heat and remembers what it feels like to be moved. 

His cock rubs against her bareness, planted right between their two bodies. He lays her down on the sheets. He nuzzles his nose against her collarbone. He lightly kisses down her breastbone. His fingers feel along the indentations of her ribs. He licks her midriff before raising his head when he meets her pelvis.

“What do you want?” He asks because all he’s ever wanted to do is please her.

She bends her legs around him, pulling him back to her. He skims his finger along the curve of her leg. Lottie responds with a shiver. “Get in me.”

Alex’s smile and dick grow about twice as large from that. He runs himself through her folds. She lets out a whimper giving him permission to slide into her. He pushes in until he meets the bottom of her and then he stays there with them lying skin to skin. He breathes her in. Her hands run through his hair, combing her fingernails down his back, so faint it makes him shift into her. She moans against his ear and it almost breaks him right there.

He tries to replicate it, repeating the small movement to pull the same noise from her. She reciprocates until they are going back and forth with the slightest of moves. It’s so little but so erotic. He whimpers. He can’t remember the last time something so vulnerable fell out of his mouth.

Everything is breathy, each noise a whisper in the wind. She quivers under his hand and clutches his back. Her fingernails scratch down his back. He thrusts harder into her. He starts to move in and out of her. He pulls out to the tip gradually. She wiggles around the tip of him, savouring every piece of him.

She reaches her hand down in between them and starts to rub her clit. He feels like he has to touch every inch of her. He begins mouthing her breast as he rocks in and out of her. He groans at how tight she feels and she begins muttering words so gently he can’t understand them. 

She pushes his hips down, wanting him to hit the back of her. She grabs his back, trying to grab a hold of something before she flexes, arching her back up, coming. The sound of her moan escapes through her shut lips. He keeps moving to let her ride it out. “Feels so fucking good,” he whispers to her.

Alex pauses when she finishes, holding himself away in the back of her. He kisses her to let the memory sink in. He waits his turn simply wanting her to bask in this feeling first before he makes it about himself. She hugs him to her chest as her panting slows.

When she lifts her hips up, he resumes, shifting up to feel the core of her. He bucks his hips as he approaches that edge. She starts bouncing up. “Fucking hell,” he says because he can’t take it anymore. Before he can manage to say anything else he comes in her. His eyes squeeze shut and press all the way into her.

“That’s it,” she says. Her hand idly strokes down his spine, making him tremble in her arms. He lays there with her like he’s done so many times before. He relaxes into that familiar way she holds him. His heart rate calms and soon he’s just resting with her.

He tucks his head into her neck and feels her pulse against his cheek. It’s a lullaby to him. He almost falls asleep before she shakes him. “You have to let me up, honey.” She only calls him pet names like that when she’s being schmaltzy, the moment too tender for their own names. Honey, love, sweetheart, snookums.

His skin peels from hers, his arms pushing him up and out of her until he sluggishly lands on his side of the bed. She sits up, putting her feet on the floor. He grabs her hand, pulling her attention. She looks at him with those eyes he could drown in—probably already has drowned in, a complete goner. She’s a siren and he’s shipwrecked. 

“What?” She asks.

Alex takes each part of her in. He’s seen her like this so many times before but sometimes he likes to hold her here and take her all in for a few minutes. She looks the same as she did at 21, at 32, at 36, yesterday, and yet there’s always something new to admire. He always finds something to tick up his smile in a new way. One day he might know all of her, every bump, freckle, eyelash, that small scar she has on her knee from the time she fell off her bike and kept picking at the scab.

She leans down over him with a grin. “I’m gonna make a mess on the sheets if I don’t move.”

He squeezes her hand just to hold her a little longer. “Okay. Come back quick.” He lifts his head to kiss her.

She’s amused by him but doesn’t laugh. She knows that look in his eyes. “I won’t be too far.”

He watches her go, keeping his eyes trained on her until she disappears into the bathroom. He shuts his eyes to see her. In this lifetime of coming and going, it’s nice to feel like this will always remain. He’ll end every night for the rest of his life with her either next to him or on his mind. He’ll think of all the little details and trace them in his mind. He can feel her right beside him, even when she’s not in the room.

It’s been a line throughout their entire relationship. Her presence in his life has been permanent since he met her. She’s an expanse, a horizon, setting out across the sky with no end in sight. He can reach his hands out, touch every piece of her, and never reach the end. There is always something new to hold on to. There’s an immensity to this sentiment.

The bed dips and she lands on his chest. “Hi.” She smiles, greeting him like a long-lost divinity. 

He pets her hair back to see her clearly. “Where have you been?”

She giggles at him, reeling him back into her. His arms embrace her, grabbing a hold of her and bringing her body as close to him as possible. “I was just in the bathroom.”

Alex’s smile pokes through. “I know.” He kisses her nose first. He grabs her arms and pulls her up more until her face is right above his. He strokes her cheek before passing his hand down to her shoulder. She gets lost in him when he kisses her, falling straight into him. They break apart to breathe. “I know. I just wanted you here.”

She hooks herself around him and reverently kisses his cheek. Her thumb brushes the part behind his ear that gets him exhaling. She whispers, “I’m right here.”

*

a/n: this might contradict facts in previous parts but if you noticed that then you care more than i do. also this takes place in the future i think. if my math is right this is july 2025 but i'm sure nothing new will happen before then because alex probably won't be spotted again until 2030. thanks. i always like writing them, it just takes me a while to figure it all out. but i like this. hopefully, you did too. okay. bye. also can we get another alex recent? it took me forever to decide on this picture and it's not even that good of quality but i couldn't find anything else. okay. bye again.

[midnight-in-town]

My thoughts on WHA's latest chapter (big spoilers !)

otherwise titled "THE TRAGEDY T_T"

Thank you Dagda for saying out loud what everybody is thinking, which is to say trust people and stop erasing memories whenever it's convenient for the system (and not for the victims).

What a guy, not only does Dagda have a better solution than magic to offer (because magic can't solve everything when it's used for the wellfare of the oppressive system in place and not for the people), but most importantly, only a true father would have been able to find that answer.

His relationship with Coustas is beautiful and I wonder if Sensei is making a criticism of the often terrible master/students dynamics we've seen throughout the series, through Dagda and Coustas.

I mean, amongst magic users, it's not family that seems to bind the most (see Agathe and her mom, or Riché and how close she is to her brother but no real mention of their parents, or Tartar and his folks iirc whereas his grandfather means well), but beyond that we've had many distasteful masters who only care about their name & reputation, instead of the education & wellbeing of their students.

It seems like Dagda & Coustas (and to some extent, Eoleo the Prince and his parents) are really criticism of that, considering that the education of children (to help them understand and decide what's allowed & forbidden, what's good or bad) is really a main theme of WHA.

It's very sad that Dagda has to die for Coustas to live, but at least we have high ranked witches like Lulucy who will probably be able to use Dagda's example to change things. Hopefully.

Last but DEFINITELY not least,

it was already so painful for Coco to witness Dagda giving his life to save his son, her friend, but the fact that it wasn't enough (because of Ininia ?) caused her immense grief. Gosh, how I hate to see the despair and anger in her eyes ! :(

And just as I hoped we wouldn't be able to reach an even lower and more painful moment for her...

She will now have to face Ininia and Tartar, while still having to save Coustas.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Tartar joined Ininia or the Brim Hats off screen, none of that. Tartar is as much Coustas' friend as Coco is so it makes sense that he's there, to help Coustas' condition. However, Tartar's fate is as threatened by the Brim Hats, as Coco's is.

We've been warned from the start that Coco is Iguin's hope, precisely because she's torn between upholding the Witches' (unfair) system and fully understanding what the non-magic folk feel like. Tartar is similar : with his questioning of why the separation of magic and medicine is necessary, he borders dangerously on the same edge as Coco, which is why they get along so well and why they perfectly understood Coustas' anger and resentment.

This above (from ch51) is what the cliffhanger calls back to : Coco keeps facing that the Witches don't always have the best answers to offer with their rules and Tartar wonders about how responsible he is, for upholding rules without questioning how relevant or fair they are.

Meanwhile, Ininia represents the Brim Hats'. She's there as a temptation for Tartar and Coco, since Coustas is not yet saved. Again, she's not to blame, Lord Restis who's using her is (which is why it's quite heartwarming to see Galga and Atuarto trying to get her back from Coustas' Silverwood tree).

Speaking of tentation, in my opinion, I think it's too soon for Coco : the Brim Hats keep trying and, with every arc that ends, she's walking closer to that edge, but I am not sure this arc will be the final step for her fall into the abyss, because she still trusts Qifrey.

Tartar however ? He was questioning everything more than Coco initially did, because of his own medical condition and not having found a master who would try their hardest to teach him, despite his illness. Also he was saved by medicine just a few moments ago in the current arc, so... to quote ch42 :

Narratively, he and Coustas are very similar, which is why I once thought it'd be very symbolic for them to be taken in by the same master. I once thought Atuarto would be that guy and I still hope it's going to be the case, because otherwise I fear the Brim Hats' way is going to be too tempting for these boys.

Hopefully I'm dead wrong about this, because I can't take more of these devastatingly good chapters.

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Take me back

Kinktober day 7

Rio Vidal x Agatha Harkness

Main kinks: Power play, use of magic, knife kink.

Word count: 1,3K

Summary: Just when Agatha is about to take her shower, her arch nemesis (who happens to be the love of her life) appears, invading her home. She claims to be there 'just to check'.

Warnings: Smut, shower sex, knife play, use of magic, switch x switch but Rio is more dominant, finger fucking.

(Please tell me if I missed anything)

The brunette turns herself around, facing the green witch. Agatha has to hold back a sigh, Rio Vidal looks as beautiful as ever. Even with wild, untamed hair and smudges of whatever all over her face.

~

"I'm joining." Agatha jumps at Rio's voice. The ages old witch - with the body of a middle-aged woman - was just about to get into the shower when she heard the voice of her annoying, crazy situationship.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Agatha quickly snatches her towel off the rack, covering up as much of her body as possible.

"Oh, come on, Agatha. It's nothing I haven't seen before." Rio steps forward with her arched knife, the one she always carries on her. She uses it to pry the towel out of the brunette's hands, making it fall to the floor. "I've come here to check up on my lady. It has been a long time, after all. I consider myself lucky to walk in on you like this," Rio says with a playful ring in her voice. The green witch takes another step forward, softly pressing the knife under Agatha's chin while looking down at her with a wicked smile. Usually, they would be about the same height, Agatha may be taller. Rio wearing heels and Agatha being entirely bare makes the difference.

"I hate you." Agatha is forced to walk backwards when the point of Rio's knife stings her neck. She didn't notice she had walked into the shower cabin until Rio reaches forward past her and turns on the water. An audible gasp leaves her mouth when the water unexpectedly hits her body.

When Agatha notices how Rio has vanished and the curtain is closed, she takes a quick peek around it. There is the slim witch, standing in her bathroom, taking off her black clothes. "See something you like?" Rio questions, without having to turn her head to notice Agatha looking.

"Shut up." Agatha pulls her head back from the curtains, reaching for shower gel bottle on the floor when Rio comes in.

"What a sight," the green witch sighs when she sees her former lover bent over to pick something up under the steaming hot water. Instinctively, she caresses Agatha's lower back, sliding down to the swell of her butt.

When Agatha stands straight up, Rio immediately snatches the bottle out of her hand. "Oh, don't you dare. I can wash myself," the brunette hisses. She's furious at Rio. Invading her home of all moments when she is taking a shower and then being arrogant enough to get in with her and demand to intimately wash her naked body.

"Oh please just fucking relax, Agatha. I'm doing you a favour. How long have you been touch deprived? I bet you haven't had anyone over since we parted." Rio is entirely calm. Normally, she's psycho, crazy, fucked in the head. With Agatha, she is almost zen.

Agaths sighs when Rio's hands rub the honey scented shower gel on her shoulders, massaging her neck and eventually wandering her hands down to her breasts. The witch takes all her time to sensually wash her former lover's body. Agatha can hear the grin in Rio's voice when she speaks, "Do you still hate me now?"

"Yes." The response is breathy, full of emotion that proves the opposite of her words. Agatha drops her head back when Rio's hands touch her sensitive waist. It seems to be seen as an invite because Rio's lips latch onto her neck, which makes a moan escape.

"You're desperate. You just won't admit it." Rio's hand slides down to Agatha's damp curls and latches onto her neck again. Right after dipping her fingers in the wetness between her legs, the witch pulls back again. "So filthy, Agatha. But you'll have to wait just a bit longer." Rio goes on to casually wash Agatha's hair like it's her own. The rest of the shower session, the sexual atmosphere lies ignored around them.

~

"Oh that guy is a bitch." Rio is sitting next to Agatha in her bed, watching a random movie. She's wearing an oversized T-shirt, which she stole from Agatha's closet since the slut wouldn't offer her any.

Agatha, in fact, isn't paying attention to the movie at all. Instead, she is busy stealing glances of woman next to her. The black haired witch is only wearing undies and one of her shirts, which looks so much bigger on her. Rio has this compelling thing about her face. No matter how much Agatha wants to hate her, she is drawn to this annoying but gorgeous being.

In the middle of an action scene, when Rio is paying close attention to the tv, Agatha takes her chance. She quickly throws her clothed leg over the green witches bare ones, straddling her. She takes that gorgeous face into her hands and presses her lips down hard, starved and craving only one thing, her.

Before she knows it, Agatha is slammed into her own mattress. Rio is now on top of her, holding her hands up above her head. Branches grow around her wrists, serving as a rope, tying her hands together. "I don't think so, M'lady."

Rio reaches behind her to turn off the movie, her damp black hair whipping Agatha in the face. "Now, let's have some fun, shall we?" There's a wicked, unsettling smile on the witches face. Agatha feels as much irritation as arousal due to how the tables have turned, but deep down, this is what she wanted. Rio pries her joggers off and slices her shirt with the terrifying knife she is apparently still keeping close to her. "Don't worry, I'll give you a shirt of mine some time, I bet you'd wear it every night with your fingers deep in your cunt."

Agatha groans at Rio's words, but it's immediately followed by a shriek as Rio starts sucking on her tits. The green witch chuckles and softly bites down on one.

"Mhm, I wonder..." Rio sheaths her knife, which makes Agatha sigh in relief. But that relief quickly passes when the tip is pushed onto her clit, making a sensation shoot through her entire body. She hasn't been touched in so long that she could already come from Rio just telling her to.

"Do you want me to make you come?" Rio pushes a finger into her wet pussy, not even slightly warning her. Agatha's entire body jolts as Rio starts stretching her out.

"Yes, please." The response coming from Agatha is beneath her breath, as Rio is now pumping two fingers into her, meeting her sensitive spot every time. The tip of the knife still on her clit isn't helping either. Rio knows exactly how to move the knife and stimulate the sensitive nub without making it slip away.

"Come whenever you want to." She adds a third finger, making Agatha feel fuller than ever. The moan that's ripped from the brunette's throat might be loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear, but both witches don't care. Rio keeps ripping strangled and loud moans from Agatha, pumping her fingers slow paced and hard into her.

"I'm gonna..." Agatha comes with a cry, tears roll down her cheeks. The intense orgasm seems to be lasting for ages. It takes about ten minutes for Agatha to come back to full consciousness.

When she opens her eyes again, the shirt and undies Rio was wearing had vanished off her body, they were probably somewhere on the floor now. Agatha also notices that her hands are no longer tied together, she she wraps her arms around the woman who is resting on top of her.

Rio reaches up to kiss Agatha sloppily. It's as sensual as it can get, with their clotheless bodies collided into each other. "Take me back, Agatha."

[thegraveyardshifts]

She never once broke away from his gaze, taking her glass back within delicate fingers and taking a deep drink, idly swirling around the last dregs of a particularly average martini. Was it a challenge? No, Agathe simply wondered about Suresh, his life, what he was and who he was. Was he as radically honest about himself as he was about hedonism and the pursuit of pleasure?

They were things Agathe would never know the answers to. Maybe, if she hadn't experienced another god talking to her, she would've fit in nicely among the Lotus Eaters. Always a slave to her whims, a predator wearing the porcelain skin of a beautiful woman.

"Asking for forgiveness doesn't suit you. Tell me, what do you plan to do tonight? Surely hanging around your empires becomes boring, even for the emperor," They seemed to run themselves, after all.

He smiled at the retort giving a small nod, "Always a boon to be so flexible in our enjoyments." Suresh's golden eyes staying on the vampire's face, watching her with a deep amusement. A very lovely laugh as well. But she was a creature very aware of herself though there was an effortless quality in her movements probably from practice. A gorgeous predator. He raised an eyebrow at the comment about them being similar, she was correct in the assumption. "Indeed, I'm not much for the sidelines. But I also would consider myself rather flexible in my enjoyments. "

Immortality required a certain level of stamina that most lacked. And Vampires, curious creatures that had started their existences as humans often lacked that stamina. But there were a few that seemed to have far more than others. Reinvention and avoiding monotony. Suresh chuckled when she called him rude. He gave a small bow of his head in apology. "Forgive the unintentional rudeness. It comes from a place of care."

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 5

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother.

Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / Next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes, but no smut, English is not my first language, sorry if it's too much exposition, it's my first fic.

Ónoma literally means name in Greek, at least according to google translate. View this as the y/n of this fic.

“When that man went to far, you slayed him without second thought, but now, when a woman does the same, you let her off with a warning. Why?” A voice sounded. As she looked around no-one else seemed to have heard it. She wanted to reply, but had no clue how, would she have to speak aloud?

“I’m in your head, there no need to speak.” Well, that cleared one thing up, she still had no idea who it was, or how they could get in her head. Was she going insane? Or had the sleep deprivation finally caught up to her.

She’d given the man, the same courtesy she’d given Agathe, but while Agathe had realized she’d gone to far, the man had doubled down on his behaviour. Both Ares and Dionysus had given her permission to protect the priestesses.

If Agathe had not stopped, she wondered what she would’ve done. The choice was easy to make if she had divine permission, but if she hadn’t been granted that, what would she have done? Stop her and possibly face the wrath of an angry God? She imagined Dionysus would not take kindly to an attack on his priestesses.

Even if had not minded it, would she be willing to face the consequences in town? Agathe was very influential, her mother would not forgive her, she’d be living a personalized hell. And what of Irene? She was incredibly fond of the girl and could not imagine how hurt she would be.

“You mortals are so, Complex. All those feelings, and rules, and repercussions.” Mortals? Not another God. Gods had only brought death in her life. If her past was anything to go by, this exchange was not a good omen.

“Now, now, I never told you to stop playing. I just wanted to pick at your brain a bit, see what all the fuss is about. You’ve caught quite a few eyes, you know.”

Poseidon had used up all his energy to call off the storm after his humiliating fight with Odysseus. Healing would take some time, but he was mortified at the idea of anyone seeing his godly form so injured. He pushed himself even further, just so he would not be recognized in his wounded state and then he promptly passed out.

When he woke up he was disoriented, without opening his eyes he realized he was on something softer than sand or stone. There was more covering his figure then when he’d fallen asleep, when he opened his eyes, he saw that he was in a room. A very pretty girl was sleeping on a chair next to the bed he was on.

For a moment it distracted him from the fact that he had no clue how he’d gotten here. Wherever here was, anyways. In addition to that, the pretty girl was covered in blood.

The things that covered him turned out to be bandages, but they could’ve been laced with poison, for all he knew. He had to get out, and quick, but his body betrayed him. Every movement felt like he was getting stabbed all over again.

He’d been caught off guard when the previously sleeping girl chastised him for ruining her handiwork. So, she’d been the one to patch him up, then. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or worried because of that. For a moment he thought the blood that stained her must have been his, but then he noticed her wounds and the bloody axes by the door.

Soon after he woke up she’d left. His voice had been croakier than he’d expected. How long had he been out for? He’d smiled at the prayer the girl had sent his way, how amusing, sending a prayer to a God, all the while he’s in your home.

The next day had been more eventful, he’d not seen the girl when he initially awoke, but when he heard someone rummaging in the other room he figured she must have slept there. He’d kept his eyes closed as he heard her return and leave once again, but not before checking on him. Once he thought she wouldn’t return anytime soon he started prying off his bandages again.

They’d been neatly wrapped around him, he’d almost found it a waste to remove them, but he had to see his wounds for himself. He was a God damn it; he should’ve healed by now. Of course, that would be the time that the woman decided to walk inside. She’d helped him, offered him a bath. He could not stop himself from teasing her.

He’d expected her to run away like a blushing virgin or jump his bones, the former was more likely after her reaction to his actions, but she’d gritted her teeth and actually helped him. He’d hoped for the latter. Poseidon, or Perikles as he’d introduced himself as, had taken many lovers in his life, but not many were as beautiful as she.

Her friendship with the prince had been a shock, for someone who lived as humbly as she, to be close to a member of the royal family? It was unheard of. Then there was the fact that this was the son of the man who’d done this to him, who’d caused him this pain. He’d not had the chance to talk much with the girl that day, but she intrigued him.

What business did she have at the temple, who’s temple was it anyway? Where’d she learn to play the lyre like that? Why was Athena following her and her friend? Where was her family? Surely a girl her age would not live here alone? From what he’d observed the shack she called home was quite secluded. Was she widowed? She was hardly of age to be married, so likely not.

Who was Ónoma, and why had she been covered in blood?

Next

Taglist:

@suckerforblondies

@barrythestrawberry041

[thegraveyardshifts]

@sanguisxferox ft. Leto.

She’s smoking outside Venus In Furs, those iconic blonde locks artfully scooped up into a curled updo and dyed red for the persona of The Madame – even her eyes, covered by a mask of black lace that adds more drama to her look, if possible. Agathe’s day dress has been swapped for a large fur coat closed tight around her thin frame, hiding underneath barely anything at all. Though at work, the vampire doesn't plan on staying long, just enough to get a drink and then bounce somewhere else within New Orleans. Maybe that new casino. Yet, clientele are thin, and so Agathe looks over the multiple people walking the streets in order to find dinner. One of them has such an aura of sadness it's almost intoxicating -she wonders if he plans to drown his sorrows tonight? "Having a good night?" She calls up, sizing up a potential meal.

[heartvshand]

No One Can Force Us Out of Our Pajamas

Arranged marriage AU. AAA Week Day 6

Evanora Harkness needs the Vidals to save her company. What's the fastest way for her to achieve this goal? Marry into the family.

No One Can Force Us Out of Our Pajamas  

“Come on, Agatha, get out of bed. We’re supposed to meet with the Vidals today. Rio will be there.” Evanora tapped her wristwatch before leaving the doorway of Agatha’s room, heels clacking on the hardwood floor.

“Finally meeting my betrothed in person? Shocker.” Agatha rolled her eyes and slowly lugged herself out of bed.

“What was that?” Evanora shouted over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Agatha said, loudly enough to be heard over the sound of her mother’s receding footsteps.

When Agatha joined her mother downstairs, she wore the dress her mother had picked out for her and braced herself for more criticism.

“There you are. Finally. Let’s go.” Evanora led the way to the car. “Keep your snide remarks to yourself today. Don’t be rude to Rio.”

Agatha sighed. “I won’t be rude unless she is.”

“Rio has manners. She wouldn’t be rude to a fly.” Evanora slid into the limousine with a nod to the driver.

“Thanks, Ernie,” Agatha said, sliding in after her.

Ernie shut the door once Agatha was inside. Agatha watched him hustle around to the driver’s side door and open it instead of listening to her mother’s incessant lecturing.

“Agatha, are you listening at all?”

“Mom, I’m twenty-two. I know how to have a relationship with another person.” Agatha didn’t mean to snap; she shut her eyes.

“Don’t take that tone with me.” Evanora slapped her cheek. “And don’t you dare take that tone with the Vidals.”

Agatha huffed and tried to ignore the sting of her mother’s hand. She stayed quiet, staring out the window as they drove to the Vidals’ home.

“You know that Harkness Industries is going to go under if the Vidals don’t buy it. We will lose everything.” Evanora’s voice had an edge; Agatha knew it was her usual warning tone, but she could hear an extra layer of nerves.

She nodded, still determined not to talk to her mother anymore for the rest of the ride.

When they arrived, Agatha saw the Vidals standing outside to greet them. A dark-haired woman she hadn’t met before stood with them, wearing a nicely fitted suit. Agatha’s stomach did a weird flip at the sight, but she tried to ignore that feeling.

“That must be Rio.” Evanora eyed the young woman. “Do whatever she says, you hear me?”

Agatha frowned, already prepared to be defiant.

“Fine, don’t talk to me, but when we open this door, you better speak like your life depends on it, damn it.” Evanora’s face was twisted with anger. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

“Yes,” she said, quietly, through clenched teeth.

Ernie opened the door.

Evanora slipped out first, and when Agatha joined her, she had a tight smile in place, ready to perform.

Once the initial greetings were over, Mrs. Vidal turned to Agatha with a smile.

“We thought you and Rio could spend the day together, get to know each other a little, while we discuss business,” she said, motioning to Rio.

Rio stepped forward without a word and held out her hand.

“Yes, of course.” Agatha nodded, smile still intact, and took Rio’s hand.

Rio led Agatha away quietly. They headed inside and up a giant set of stairs; all the while Rio held her hand.

Agatha stole glances at her as they walked down a hallway. Up close, she was even more beautiful. She swallowed and tried to ignore her attraction. This was a business arrangement.

Rio let out a heavy exhale once they were standing in a smaller room with several fancy, cushioned chairs, and art on the walls instead of windows. She gestured to the chairs with her free hand. “Have a seat wherever.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” Agatha let go of Rio’s hand and sat down in the first chair. 

“So,” Rio said, holding the ‘o’ a little longer. “I’m Rio. Nice to actually meet you.”

She plopped down in the chair across from Agatha, a softer smile had replaced her public one.

Agatha eyed her. “I’m Agatha. Nice to meet you, too. But. This is all so stupid.”

Rio laughed. “Yeah, super archaic practice, right?”

Agatha nodded vigorously. “Yes! It’s so creepy.”

Smiling, Rio rested her head in her hand. “Yeah. So. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. You?”

“Twenty-three.” Rio rolled her eyes. “We’re adults. We really shouldn’t let them have a say in our love lives like this.”

Tension loosened in Agatha’s shoulders. “Yeah. Were you seeing anyone? Before this matchmaking happened, I mean?”

Rio shook her head. “No, which is probably why they thought they could get away with this nonsense. What about you?”

“Yeah, this woman named Jen. But I was on the brink of breaking up with her anyway.” Agatha sighed. “But when my mom said I needed to break up with her and marry you, I kinda just wanted to keep seeing Jen out of spite. But…I couldn’t. Obviously.”

She looked at Agatha with a sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry your mom did that to you.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Like I said, Jen was getting on my nerves, the relationship was over. I just didn’t want my mom to tell me I had to do something.”

With a small chuckle, Rio said, “I get it. I’m still sorry. Your mother shouldn’t have that kind of say over your life.”

She shifted in the chair, averting her gaze from Rio’s to the floor. “Yeah. Not the worst thing she’s done to me, so I guess it pales in comparison.”

Rio’s brow furrowed. “Oh. I’m sorry you have that kind of parent.”

Agatha looked up. “Thanks. Um, so anyway. What do you…do?”

Rio shifted, angling herself toward Agatha more. “I’m the heir to the business, of course. But.”

She looked out into the hallway and then looked back to Agatha with a mischievous glint in her eye. “That isn’t my dream job.”

Agatha laughed, looking at her with curiosity. “Okay, then what is?”

“I want to make movies.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen for a brief moment. “Look. These are mine.”

She tilted her phone toward Agatha and scrolled slowly through a website with a bunch of short film titles and embedded videos.

“Who is Lady Death?” I frowned.

“Oh. It’s an alias. I can’t be me, you know? Nobody can know.” Rio slid her phone back into her pocket.

“Oh.” Agatha swallowed. “I’m sorry. Those seem fun.”

“It’s okay. My parents can’t tell me to stop since they don’t know.” She gave a wide smile and chuckled.

Agatha ran her fingers over the cushion of the chair and studied the other lady, unsure what to say. She felt a little jealous that Rio had a secret that her parents couldn’t touch; she couldn’t think of anything she could share that was like that.

She was enjoying looking into Rio’s eyes and felt unsure how to continue the conversation. She wanted to ask something, but suddenly, she couldn’t remember what kinds of questions to even ask. She eyed the suit and the way Rio’s fingers drummed on the armrests.

When she looked back to her face, she found Rio watching her with a soft gaze.

“Hey,” Rio said, quietly. “I know all this is weird and stupid. But I want you to know I’ll look out for you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, and…I won’t hurt you. Like, I know sometimes people get into situations like this, and they wind up with someone who…hurts them. Or is cruel. I-I’m not like that. I don’t want that to be our dynamic.”

Agatha’s chest fluttered. She swallowed and nodded. “Thank you. I don’t want that either. I…I have to admit I was nervous you were going to lead me to some sex dungeon or something, because the last thing my mom did before we got out of the car was threaten me and tell me to do whatever you said. Then you led me away. So…you know.”

Agatha laughed, shook her head, and looked down; her hair fell forward hiding her face a little. She pulled it back.

Rio shook her head and crossed her arms. “Yeah, no, that would have been insane. I would have cried if you’d done that to me. I don’t have a sex dungeon. And I-I mean, you’re very pretty, and I would be with you for real, but I respect you and want that to be a choice we choose together.”

She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and picked at the cushion, keeping her eyes on Agatha. “I’m okay if this is just a…friendship. I want it to be whatever you want it to be, okay? And it can change obviously, like, we decide on something now and change our minds later, but…you know, I—I don’t want either of us to feel like…hostages or—or um, you know, captives or something.”

Agatha felt all of the tension and nerves fade. She nodded furiously. “Thank you for saying that. I really appreciate that and agree.”

Agatha took a deep breath and let out a shaky exhale. She ran her fingers through her hair and bit her lip. She eyed the walls, wondering if Rio had made these strange paintings or if her parents would allow such a thing. She was just thankful she didn’t have anyone to answer to right now. Nobody could see her. There weren’t any spots for someone to look in at them, paparazzi or otherwise. “I’m glad this room doesn’t have windows.”

Rio laughed and leaned forward. “I picked it on purpose for that reason. I hate when people can get photos of private moments like this.”

“Me, too.” She held her gaze, a small smile on her lips. “And, um, you’re very pretty, too.”

Rio smirked. “Thanks.”

Agatha pointed to the paintings. “Did you paint these? They’re kind of…haunting.”

“I did!” Rio sat up straighter. “I told my parents I bought them from an independent artist online. They didn’t want them in any of the shared spaces. But we came to the compromise that they could go in my bedroom or my office. Those were the only acceptable options.”

Laughing, she followed Agatha’s gaze. Agatha was staring at the one closest to the door. It was a white mask, with a dark silhouette of a person behind it, there was a hand removing the mask from the face. Peeking out from behind the mask was a skeletal face that Agatha couldn’t look away from.

“For a skeleton, it feels like there’s a lot of emotion in that image.” Agatha turned her attention back to the other woman. “What’s that one called?”

Rio’s face warmed. “A Peek Behind the Mask.”

“I like it.” Agatha was quiet for a moment, studying one of the other paintings. She pointed to it. “Is that one inspired by the Salem witch trials?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I really like witches.”

“Are you a witch?” Agatha said, narrowing her eyes.

“Maybe someday, when the time is right.” Rio laughed. “Are you?”

“I wish. It would really…fix some things in my life.” She sighed and then realized something and quickly turned her attention from the painting to Rio. “Wait. You live here?”

“Yep.” Rio rubbed her neck. “Why?”

“I live with my mom.” Agatha felt a weird sensation coming over her. “Will you and I live together?”

Rio smiled, nodding slowly. “Yes, I believe they’ll expect us to do that.”

“Without our parents?” She felt her body tense with anticipation.

“OH! Yeah, definitely not living with them. Nobody needs to live with their in-laws, arranged marriage or not.” Rio shuddered at the idea.

Agatha’s soul soared with this revelation. “Oh my god. This might give us both the most freedom we’ve ever had.”

Rio cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your paintings, your movies, you could…we could have a space for those things. It would be wherever you wanted to have them.” Agatha was nearly bouncing in her chair with excitement.

Rio’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re right. Hot damn. We’re going to have so much fun. We have my art to account for. What do you want to be able to do at home that you can’t now?”

Agatha’s expression was unreadable for a moment. She bit her lip and after a lot of roving around the room, her eyes landed back on Rio.

“I’d like to be able to just…exist without being expected to be a certain way.”

Rio tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

She sighed and threw her hands up. “I don’t know. I want-I want to be able to wear my pajamas after ten in the morning without it meaning I’m depressed or letting myself go. I want to be able to read, do puzzles, play games, without worrying about how that might look to the staff or, like, what they could leak about me or what my mother might say or do if I’m doing things her way.”

She ran her hand through her hair and shrugged. She stood up and paced, walking the length of the rug in one direction, then turning back and following to its other end. She stopped in front of Rio’s painting with the witches lined up, burning at the stake.

Rio stayed quiet, watching her.

Agatha turned to look at her. “Is that…okay?”

“Of course.” Rio nodded. She got up and walked over to stand next to Agatha. “We’ll live on our own terms for once. Whatever makes you happy, okay?”

“Whatever makes you happy, too,” Agatha said, glancing at her lips and back to her eyes.

Rio smiled. “This will be fun.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“I-I do hate to ask, but I need to. Is it okay if we start as friends and work our way to a real engagement?” Rio said. “I’d prefer to take it slow, get to know each other.”

She nodded. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Way better than what I was worried about when I showed up.”

“Thanks. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Um. Would it be okay if I hugged you?” she said, timidly.

Agatha wrapped her arms around Rio and gave her a good squeeze. When Rio’s arms were around her, their bodies pressed together, her breath hitched. This was nice. She felt…safe. She rested her head on Rio’s shoulder and held on to her tightly, staring at the skeletal face on the wall, wondering if that was maybe intended to be a self-portrait. Her eyes fluttered shut and she stayed quiet, holding on to Rio.

Rio held on to her, cradling her head. She was careful not to mess up Agatha’s hair as she gently stroked it. She could tell Agatha found relief in the hug, so she didn’t want to be the one to disengage. She wondered how often Agatha was afforded comfort. From the little she’d learned about the relationship between Agatha and her mother, Rio suspected it might not be very often.

Agatha let out a big sigh and pulled away. “Sorry. I-um, thank you. I needed that.”

Rio smiled. “Of course. Anything you need, Agatha. I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she said, staying put. Her hand still cupping Rio’s elbow fell away, but neither of them moved. They stood in front of each other while Rio worked up the nerve to bring up the business aspect of this whole situation. She rubbed her neck and stuck her hand in her pocket.

Finally, she said, “Um. I-I was asking if that was okay, because that’s what I’d like for us privately. But, um, you know, publicly, we will have to start being seen on dates, and I’ll have to propose after, like, the fifth date. And I don’t want that public stuff to…put pressure on anything between us.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed as she listened. “Oh. Yeah, okay. Sure. You mean, we’ll have the pretend relationship for our parents and the public, and we’ll have our real one for…just us.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want all of that to make you feel any kind of way about me, or us, or anything. They can force us to do certain things, but…you know, they can’t force us out of our pajamas in our own home.” Rio scratched her head. “I think that’s an old saying.”

Leaning into Rio, Agatha laughed and gripped her arm. “They can’t force us out of our pajamas in our own home. If it’s not an old saying, we can make it one.”

Rio smiled, feeling the warmth of Agatha’s hand through her jacket. She was thrilled she actually liked the woman standing in front of her. She’d be scared Agatha would be horrible, and mean, and hateful to her. But here they were, laughing and sharing secrets, already creating inside jokes.

Rio’s phone buzzed, which caused her to let out a groan.

Agatha frowned. “What is it?”

“Pretty sure that means it’s time to go.” Rio pulled her phone out to double check. “Yeah. They’re done with their meeting.”

Rio licked her lips. “Listen, they’re expecting some sort of confirmation we’re good to go. So. I-maybe this is stupid. I got us these…I don’t know. We can call them promise rings or something.” She fumbled with a small box she pulled from her jacket pocket.

“They’re just, like, silver little bands. They have our names engraved on the inside. My parents made some calls and got your ring size from your preferred jewelry shop. Or—um, well, it’s probably your mom’s shop, yeah?” Rio shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m way better at being romantic when it’s not…a business transaction. I swear.”

Agatha giggled. “You’re doing great.”

Rio’s fingers shook a little as she opened the box. Two, thin, matching silver bands rested inside. Rio picked up one and held it out for Agatha to see the engraving on the inside.

“See, it says Rio,” she said, handing it to Agatha. “And this one says Agatha.”

She held on to that one and slipped the empty box back in her pocket.

“OH. Shit. Wait.” Rio laughed and shook her head. “Oh my god. I did that wrong. Here, switch me please?”

Agatha, smiling wide, handed her the ring that said Rio.

Rio paused again. “Wait. Do you want the one that says Rio or the one that says Agatha? I—I got them sized for us to have each other’s names, but we can get them resized if you want us to have our own names.”

Agatha placed a hand on hers. “The way you did it sounds great and will probably be better for appearances, you know? You’ve done great. This is really neat. Thank you.”

Rio, still feeling flustered, nodded with a half-smile. “Thanks.”

Agatha smiled, encouraging her to continue.

Rio licked her lips and said, “Um, in that case, here you go.”

She handed Agatha the ring that said Agatha. “You can put that one on me, and I’ll put the one that says Rio on you.”

Agatha fumbled with Rio’s hand for a moment and slowly slid the ring over Rio’s finger. Once she was done, she held her hand out, and Rio slipped the matching band on to Agatha’s finger.

“Thanks. Sorry. Please don’t let that influence how cool you think I am.” Rio flipped her hair over her shoulder, smirking.

Agatha shook her head. “It was incredibly endearing. If I was nervous about anything before, you’ve just put it all to bed.”

Rio raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’re very sweet.” Agatha bit her lip. “And kind.”

Rio’s phone buzzed again. She closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. We’ve gotta go. Let’s exchange numbers and message, okay?”

They quickly exchanged numbers before Rio led her from the room, once again, holding her hand from the moment they exited the room.

Agatha got the impression that any questions she might still have, she should wait until she was able to send her a message privately, so she refrained from speaking.

Rio smiled at her. “I’ve enjoyed our time together today.”

Agatha eyed the photographs and plaques on the walls around them, paying more attention to her surroundings on the walk out.

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “I’ve really had a good time. When will we see each other again?”

Rio tilted her head. “When do you want to?”

“Soon?” Agatha glanced at the curio cabinets with the trinkets. “Those are fun.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” Rio glanced to where she was pointing. “Yeah, that’s my glass menagerie. I got obsessed with that play and started my own little glass animal collection.”

She leaned in, pressing her lips to Agatha’s hair. “It’s the only acceptable hobby I have.”

Agatha laughed and felt a shiver go down her spine. Rio’s breath against her ear was a sensation she’d certainly be thinking about later.

Agatha saw the staircase up ahead and abruptly fell silent.

Rio winked and mouthed, “Good idea,” before leading the way downstairs.

Once they were downstairs, Evanora and Mr. and Mrs. Vidal greeted them. They eyed the two, bright smiles on everyone’s faces.

“It was great seeing you again, Agatha,” Mrs. Vidal said, taking her hand and patting it. “So glad you and Rio seem to get on well.”

Her finger tapped the new ring on Agatha’s hand.

Agatha nodded, her big smile in place. “Yes, it’s great to see you, and Rio, she’s lovely. Thank you for having me.”

Rio and Agatha shared a brief glance as the goodbyes continued.

Once they were back in the car, Evanora eyed her hand. “So, it went well?”

Agatha held up her hand. “Yep.”

Evanora made a small noise and returned to her phone. “Good. Maybe she’ll keep you in line. We’re closing on our deal once you two are engaged. Do you know when you plan to make the engagement announcement?”

Agatha thought of several biting comebacks, but instead, she shut her eyes and thought of Rio and their future home where no one could tell them what to do. She thought of the way hugging Rio felt. Exhaling, she said, “During the fifth date, we’ll get engaged.”

“Good. That’s sooner than we had speculated during our meeting. Excellent.” Evanora paused with her typing on her phone screen. “When’s the first date?”

Agatha pulled out her phone. “Oh, um, let me double check my calendar.”

Instead of checking her calendar, she quickly texted Rio.

Agatha: Mom’s asking when our first date is, help!

Rio: Friday, I’ll pick you up at 4pm, and we will be out extremely late.

Agatha appreciated how quickly Rio had replied. She was able to play it off like it was a note in her calendar.

She looked up at her mom and said, “This Friday. She’s picking me up at four, and we’re going to be out very late.”

“Oh, what will you be doing?” Evanora said, her fingers still hovering over her screen.

Agatha shrugged. “She said it was a surprise.”

Evanora nodded and went back to tapping on her phone.

Agatha looked back down at her phone and sent a message to Rio.

Agatha: Thanks. She started grilling me in the car. Really appreciated your quick reply.

Rio: No problem. Did you want to video chat later or we could sneak out and hang out somewhere privately? No pressure. I get the sense it might be a bit…lonely at home.

Agatha smiled and glanced out the window. They were arriving home already. She sighed and headed inside. She shut herself away in her room and flopped down on the bed. She looked at her phone. She wasn’t sure if she’d said enough that Rio had understood what she didn’t say, or Rio was perceptive. Either way, it was a relief to know someone knew her home life wasn’t whatever the public assumed about it.

She tapped out a response and hit send.

 Agatha: It is. Yeah, I’d love to do both of those things. Maybe a video chat later today, but maybe we could hang out before our first date? Without them knowing?

Rio: Perfect. We could grab coffee tomorrow. I know a place. I can pick you up.

Agatha: Excellent. I’m thankful you’re cool.

Agatha nervously awaited a reply, but Rio didn’t keep her waiting long. Just long enough to type something back.

Rio: I’m happy you’re cool, too, and I’m glad we’re on the same page about everything. It’s a really big relief. I thought…I don’t know…I was nervous we wouldn’t get along.

Agatha: Same here. What time do you want to chat later?

Rio looked at her phone and thought for a moment. She wanted to say they could chat now, but would that be too much? She bit her lip and went for it.

Rio:Wanna chat now? I mean, we can later, too, but no pressure.

Agatha didn’t reply, instead, she hit the button and started a video call. Rio hurried to her room and answered.

“Hey,” Rio said, resting her head against the headrest. She stretched out on her bed and smiled.

Agatha was grinning ear to ear. “Hey.”

“What are you up to?” Rio eyed the background. “Are you in your room, too?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Want to see it?”

“Sure.” Agatha flipped the camera around. “Be warned that this is not how I decorate. This is all the approved things I was able to decorate with.”

Rio laughed and took in the view.

“Lots of ceramics, feels kinda boring, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just boring because I didn’t have much say.” Agatha laughed. “Feels like I picked the most interesting things out of a boring catalog.”

“It’s nice, but I’m curious. How would you decorate if you had full creative control?” Rio’s hair fell across her face.

Agatha watched Rio flip the stray hair out of her face. She smiled, flipping the camera back to face herself.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll talk your ear off if you ask me that.”

Rio tilted her hair. “I’ll listen until my ears fall off. Tell me about it.”

Agatha beamed. She took a deep breath and launched into her dream room while Rio listened attentively, weighing in with affirmative murmurs and questions at all the right times.

Agatha felt the hopefulness swell up inside her chest for the second time that day. Maybe this really wouldn’t be the worst arrangement.

____

This is all I could write for the day, but I might come back add chapters later.

[thegraveyardshifts]

She couldn't relate to it, wanting somewhere quiet and all to oneself, if just for a little time. Perhaps Agathe was just too old to sit in the quiet of the night with only her thoughts, sure that such a thing would surely drive her to madness at it had done so many other immortals. Agathe had to keep moving forwards, always occupied, chatting or feeding or teasing or helping to further the will of her god. To stop meant stagnation, meant death, to her anyways.

"Strange how small the world feels now, there are so few places left like this," The vampire humms softly, talking as if she personally had visited half of them which, she hadn't. Agathe had no idea how old the woman in-front of her was, curious about such a thing.

"A curious passerby," There was a smirk in her voice. "Agathe. Might you have a name, to?"

⸻ Liesl was staring at the water, though her thoughts were adrift — scattered somewhere between memory and melancholy. She missed seeing her reflection, that faint proof of self she used to take for granted. The moonlight danced on the surface, fractured silver ripples, and she held her knees close to her chest, as if trying to keep herself from unraveling. Her eyes lifted as the voice reached her, smooth and sharp like glass in velvet.

❛ No. ❜ she replied softly, voice barely louder than the breeze. ❛ I just wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere the stars still feel... untouched. ❜ A pause. She studied the woman in silence — cold elegance, predatory stillness. One of their kind, unmistakably. But not someone she recognized. ❛ Who are you? ❜ Liesl asked, not with suspicion, but a subdued curiosity. The kind reserved for those who’ve lived too long to be startled easily, yet still find themselves drawn to what lingers in the dark.

[alyscat]

Homecoming Snippet

Note: While I was inspired to write this after the Ithaca saga came out, the story is based on the Odyssey, so there may be some variations from Epic the Musical! Master page here. Enjoy Penelope being a badass and tearing into the suitors!

I straighten. By now, everyone in the feasting hall has noticed me. The suitors conversations around the table carry on quietly. The beggar has retreated to a corner of the banquet hall, next to one of the pillars, where he nibbles at his plunder. Today is the Feast of Apollo. The food is excellent, the wine is plenty, and it seems a fitting day for the challenge I have prepared. “Telemachus,” I call softly. He hasn’t gone far, and the young man hurries to my side. “Fetch your father’s bow from the storage room.”

That shadow crosses his face again, but he nods. “Of course,” 

The moment he leaves, I raise my voice. It echoes across the room in a booming thunder that grabs the attention of all within. “Listen to me, all you suitors!” Even the servants stop their work. On either side of me, Agathe and Melantho take a small step closer to show their support. “You have been a plague upon this house, draining our resources with your constant eating and drinking while you do nothing to show gratitude for my hospitality. Your only excuse was to take me in the absence of my husband, who fought valiantly in the war against Troy. If that is your pize, to marry me and make me yours, come then! Claim your prize!”

I step forward, approaching the head of the table, and the nearest of the men flinches away from me. Telemachus returns with that great bow in his hands and offers it to me with a nod. A tear has fallen from the corner of his eye, and I turn away, raising the weapon to the sky. “This is the bow of my husband, the god-like Odysseus. If one among you can easily string this bow and shoot through the twelve axes placed in the courtyard without error, that is the man I will follow. I will leave this house of my life with Odysseus behind, only visiting in my dreams.” My stare dares any of them to speak out against me as I lower the weapon. “This is my challenge. An honest test of skill. This is a task my husband would do for sport, nearly every day. Who among you is worthy?” 

Tag list! Let me know if you want to be added or removed @adastra36 @dorcaloveskotlc @apolloinaplaguemask @hatima-cries-epicly @fireflychaosdemon

[lonesomeseafairy]

> 🜸 “Silence is not absence.

It is the shape of memory—folded and drifting.”

---

✦ ✦ ✦ IDENTITY FILE ✦ ✦ ✦

Full Name: Jovil ( ? ) San Jose–Grimmoire

Age: 560

Species: Nocturnal Fae (Lizard) × Owl Beastman

Gender: Non-Confirming (Feminine-presenting)

Pronouns: Any

Height: 5’6 ft.

Sexuality: Questioning

Birthday: July 4th

Affiliation: Diasomnia Student

Title: “The Isolated Wise Man” of Diasomnia

Familiar: Clawster – a snippy owl who guards her ink pens like treasure

Unique Magic:

Forget-Me-Knot – Paper-based knowledge transfer. When a paper talisman touches someone, Jovil can give them information—at the cost of losing that knowledge from her own memory.

---

✦ ✦ ✦ PERSONALITY SNAPSHOT ✦ ✦ ✦

A soft-spoken ghost of the past, Jovil rarely speaks at all—her voice lost to her own magic. She communicates through whistles, chirps, gestures, or scribbled notes in her pocket-worn journal.

Jovil is not cold—just quiet. Gentle but distant. Awkward but deeply observant. Her kindness feels like autumn wind: unseen, but always brushing past you.

> 🕯️ “She never says much. But you’ll feel it when she knows you.”

---

✦ ✦ ✦ ABILITIES + FLAWS ✦ ✦ ✦

STRENGTHS:

• Keen Spacial Awareness

• Silent and Agile (especially aerial)

• Strategic and Inquisitive

• Skilled with Paper Magic, Espionage, and Melee Defense

WEAKNESSES:

• Long-Term Memory Loss

• Difficulty Speaking

• Cannot Perceive Glass (seriously—owls)

• Isolates when overwhelmed

• Avoids physical affection like it's contagious

---

✦ ✦ ✦ PAST + PURPOSE ✦ ✦ ✦

Jovil was born from a political union—a cage in satin lace. Her mother, Agathe, ensured she was a “planned asset,” while her father remained a Absent yet Bitter presence she grew to loathe.

Jovil joined Queen Malenoir’s military to escape that life, becoming a gifted but haunted member of Lilia’s Intelligence Unit. As her rank rose, so did her sacrifice—overusing her Unique Magic until her voice and memories frayed like old thread.

Now, per Lilia’s guidance, Jovil studies at Night Raven College: part babysitter to Malleus, part amnesiac trying to relive a childhood stolen by war.

> ✦ “She carries rose-thorns in her pocket and forgets why they’re bleeding.”

---

✦ ✦ ✦ RELATIONSHIPS – DIASOMNIA ✦ ✦ ✦

➤ MALLEUS DRACONIA

Title in her notes: “Lightning Bug King”

Malleus finds Jovil comforting—not in words, but in stillness. He often joins her for wordless walks or shares glowing flowers with no explanation. She, in turn, leaves pressed herbs or weathered notes where she knows he’ll find them.

> ❝ Thunder doesn't scare her. That makes her precious. ❞

—

➤ LILIA VANROUGE

Title in her notes: “Commander Bat”

He trained her. He watched her break. Now he watches her rebuild. Jovil doesn’t laugh at his jokes, but she always chirps after them. A sign of respect. She doesn't call him father—but he acts like one when no one’s watching.

> ❝ I once taught her war. Now I teach her how to laugh again. ❞

—

➤ SILVER

Title in her notes: “Sleeping Prince (maybe real)”

They often nap near each other in the garden. Silver once woke up to find a paper bird with his dream folded inside it. Jovil doesn’t explain things, but she leaves behind moments. They understand each other in silence.

> ❝ She whispers like wind. That’s all I need. ❞

—

➤ SEBEK ZIGVOLT

Title in her notes: “Yelling Lizard (might be kin)”

Sebek cannot handle how unbothered Jovil is by everything. She doesn’t salute, forgets formalities, and once called him “Sir Barkscale.” Yet… he now leaves small supplies for her “unofficially,” like bandages or enchanted candies.

> ❝ SHE IS A MENACE TO LORD MALLEUS’S DIGNITY—

…why is there soup on my desk? ❞

---

✦ ✦ ✦ LITTLE HABITS ✦ ✦ ✦

🦉 Sleeps in trees when anxious.

🍬 Chews honey candy when nervous (Malleus restocks it).

🖋️ Writes poetry in three languages—one of them only she understands.

🌸 Hums lullabies she doesn’t remember learning.

🪞 Walks into glass constantly. Doesn’t believe it’s her fault.

📜 Uses origami cranes to pass notes across the school.

---

🕯️⟢ 𝐉𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 ⟣🕯️

> "Somewhere between a cryptid and a sweetheart."

---

Voice Claims

JP:

Maaya Sakamoto (think Shiki Ryougi or Crona) – soft, distant, whispery with surreal detachment.

ENG:

Erika Lindbeck (Cassie Cage, Futaba Sakura) – muted tone with dreamlike pause; like she’s half in the spirit realm.

Note: She rarely speaks at all—so when she does, her voice often sounds foreign to even herself.

---

Handwriting Style

- Slanted cursive with very thin strokes

- Writes in vertical columns when emotional

- Likes doodling feathered creatures in page corners

- Uses black or green ink exclusively

- Favors pressed leaves as bookmarks and occasionally leaves post-its with small pressed petals inside for people she cares about (even if she doesn’t sign them)

---

Specific Tastes

- Favorite Tea: Peppermint + Basil (for clarity)

- Favorite Food: Sticky rice with tamarind jam (nostalgic)

- Favorite Texture: Smooth parchment or polished stone

- Favorite Scent: Thunderstorm air & candle wax

- Dislikes: Slimy textures, overly sweet foods, perfumes with alcohol base

---

Weird Quirks

- Chirps like a bird when startled (involuntary).

- Can sense emotional “aura shifts” in a room but often misinterprets them (e.g., assumes rage is hunger).

- Sleeps with her face hidden under a cloth or mask (a habit from war days).

- Keeps acorns and small bones in her pocket for "blessing rituals" no one understands.

- Mistakes vending machines for enchanted shrines.

- Will follow a shiny object for absurd distances.

- Collects people’s forgotten things and returns them weeks later—gently cleaned and tied with ribbon.

---

◆ STAFF OBSERVATION NOTES

(confidential, internal NRC circulation only)

---

◆ Professor Crewel

> "Her sense of fashion is… tragic. Combat boots and embroidery? Haute warcore? But she’s respectful, turns in papers on time, and uses unironically perfect calligraphy on spellcraft reports.

Still, I swear she put herbs under my chair once."

---

◆ Professor Trein

> "A very curious case. Her magical theory essays often include diagrams I can’t trace to any known textbook, and yet they work. Lucius seems to like her, though I’ve caught her giving him origami birds.

Possibly an ancient soul. Possibly just awkward."

---

◆ Headmage Crowley

> "Ah yes, Lady Jovil—an exemplary student! …I think.

Wait—has anyone actually confirmed she attends classes? She submitted something yesterday by… carrier owl?

Nevertheless, a mysterious delight. I admire her ability to haunt the school without dying once!"

---

◆ Sam

> "Oooohoho, now this one's got old magic in her bones. She buys gravewax, dream filters, and anti-memory-loss powder in bulk. I don't ask why.

She once paid me with an ancient locket that showed my late grandmother in it. …I still accepted."

---

◆ Coach Vargas

> "STUDENT REFUSES TO PARTICIPATE IN STANDARD PHYSICAL TRAINING.

However! Extremely agile, leapt 12 feet into a tree when startled. Displays predator-level reflexes. Suspect she may be part owl. Encouraged to join track team. Denied.

I respect it."

ᯓᡣ𐭩

" To maintain a Memory, is as Powerful as a Curse "

[perle-cerise]

Articulez Agathe ma fille....je ne comprends rien! Speak Agathe my daughter...I don't understand anything!

[thegraveyardshifts]

She haunts the bars of Gentilly and the surrounding areas, a specter in silk with alluring eyes and a smooth voice - all of course to lure in her favourite type of prey; easy men. Agathe sits barside, idly tracing circles around the rim of her glass as she dangles herself as bait for the unsuspecting in the area.

It pays off, a stranger sits next to her and greets her before ordering a drink and Agathe turns her attention to them before...hesitating. No, not hesitation, a pause at a profile she recognises all to well. Someone she knows cannot be dinner, which is annoying but, Knox had always been interesting in a way few were. When you lived forever, it is those people who stand out.

"What, no flowers for Agathe?" The blonde says, thinking that Knox was just being ignorant, playing dumb...even if there is something different about them.

"It hasn't been that long, has it? Am I that forgettable? Such a wound, Knox,"

―Random bar. Nighttime. (Gentilly)

Their hair have been growing back slowly; not even half an inch, but at least, they'll be able to cut them or do some type of haircut to make themselves believe the change had been deliberate. His beard is also getting there, but struggling more. Knox knows healing from what had happened to them would take some time. But at least, he sees the progress now. Especially with their muscle mass fully back. They can deal with less hair, but feeling so weak had annoyed them the most.

They're also in a better mindset―seeing Sebastian had really done them some good. So he's back to forcing himself to be social. They might even humor the idea of checking up on people―but that's for another day. They approach the bar, sitting beside a blonde. They grin, but doesn't say much more than―"Hi darling―" before turning their attention back to the barman, utterly unaware that they've met many times before at a time when he was still not fully alive.

@thegraveyardshifts