#/some say he was a superstitious person as well from what the stars said but we will likely never know

[darabeatha]

:enjoys stargazing with u:

[leannswritings]

“See you Later”

Warnings : Smut

Summary: After being trapped @ the greenhouse apartments, you find yourself reuniting with your boyfriend at the stadium

Pairing: Chanyoung x Fem!reader (?)

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen Chan-young, the sweet man you’ve grown to love over the past few years. Your boyfriend was known for being kind-hearted, so in this situation, you could only wonder if he was still alive, plenty of things flooded your brain as you were trapped at the green home apartments, and a simple sleepover turned into your worst nightmare.

“See you later” stuck to your mind like glue, traveling to the shelter gave you hope that his words would come true, and maybe you were overthinking and overwhelmed by the situation.

You find yourself traveling to the shelter alone after getting separated from the others during the mayhem in the passageway. The shelter seemed to be safe as it was cut off from the rest of the world, but your safety wasn’t what mattered anymore.

Days went past of you being in the shelter alone, giving you time to overhear the many things people talked about, many conversations with Chan as the topic. You once got so pissed at a girl named Ye-seul for how she talked about him that you may have hit her once..or a couple of times?

With him being such a huge topic, where is he at this point in time? I mean he’s got to be here? What other reason would he be brought up, I don’t think baseball is a huge topic right about now? The more you sit in the general area and question yourself it’s like you drew a circle and chanted his name by how quickly he’d had appeared. With many people gathered you thought you were maybe staring or thinking too hard, but no. You realized he was there, the real him.

His soft look that reminded you of stars, his shocked yet glad look. After most people dispersed from the general area, he walked over to you as if it’s been centuries since he’s last seen you, wrapping his arms around you and giving the tightest hug you've ever gotten, with all the overwhelming feelings In the last few weeks, you couldn’t help but tell him how much you’ve missed him.

Finally, you got to hear his voice.

“I told you, see you later”

Though it sounded sarcastic you knew he seriously meant it. Chan-young always took things to heart, even the littlest. Saying see you later is such a normal thing to say especially since we never knew this was going to happen, you were never superstitious but you couldn’t have been happier that he didn’t say bye instead.

You’ve never felt so fragile.

As days pass you begin to act like the couple you always were, with overwhelming upsetting feelings decreasing, you feel lust and other feelings growing. Hell, you thought you were going crazy, what type of person thinks about taking some guy in their uniform during an apocalypse? Or like sneaking into his room at night? Even at one point thinking how good he’d look as a dad. I mean you have to be some type of insane right?

“Hey? Are you ok? You keep staring off”

Chan-young of course notices you staring off into nothingness and not talking much while walking down the halls

“Is there anything you want to talk to me about? Is something bothering you?”

Usually, you could talk to him about all of your problems but right now? What else are you gonna say? “Lemme hit?” “I want you?” “Bend me over?” I mean how could you ask right now? Of course without realizing the more you thought on how to ask, one of your thoughts came out without realizing.

“I need you.”

He stops walking, which causes you to pay attention to your surroundings, realizing what you had said, you look around and thankfully no one is in the hall with you two.

“What?”

Hell. I mean you already said it. So you might as well get your thoughts out at this point, while no one was around at least.

“I need you, physically, I know this isn’t the right time but I mean hell, how could my thoughts not wander when I’m around you.”

You glance back over at Chan as he has this somewhat surprised look on his face, you can tell he is thinking hard as his face is turning more red by the second.

By this point, you were about to say hell with it and pretend you never said anything but before you could even think of saying never mind or walking away you found yourself against a wall and Chan’s lips crashing into yours, soon breaking away.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one thinking this”

Just as y’all were about to continue this session you could hear footsteps coming down the hall.

“Let's go, I don’t want anyone else to see what’s about to happen”

He grabs your hand and leads you down the hall, but all you can think about is him saying “What’s about to happen” I mean hell, how could not think about it, different scenarios played in your head as you walked which only got you even more excited.

Before you knew it you were in his room already on the bed, you couldn’t have been more excited in this moment. Chan-young’s face looked very different from what you were used to, his look being a nervous yet lustful look as he stood at the edge of the bed as if he couldn’t process what was happening was real, but hell you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you just gonna stand there and look pretty?”

You say quietly before grabbing his shirt pulling him into a kiss causing his body to lean forward and having both of his hands placed next to you on the bed. At one point you couldn’t hold back, both of you fought for dominance during this session, you licked the bottom of his lip asking for permission which he quickly gave you. His hand finally moves to your waist and then to your back so he can softly lay you onto your back while his free hand goes to your face. He uses his thumb to rub the side of your face as if he's in the middle of giving you comfort. Hell, guess even in this moment he can still be a sweetheart.

“You’re so gorgeous..”

He said after he pulled away from the sloppy make-out session. Looking at him he had this pleading face that you couldn’t seem to get enough of seeing how your body reacted, at this point you were ready to just overtake him. You slightly push against his chest signaling him to move from above you, of course, you weren't telling him to get off for Any pure reason or to call quits. You then stood up in front of him before putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to sit on the bed that you were previously on.

“Chan..let me lead, is that fine with you?”

Looking up at you with those same pleading eyes he nodded, that was all you needed before you found yourself placing your hand on his shoulder and lips on his neck, you were no different from a vampire at this point, trying to quickly unbutton his shirt with your free hand, in which he helped with. You could hear soft sounds coming from him, which only drove you to go further down, kissing his chest to his stomach, getting closer to his belt, you almost laughed to yourself when you saw how excited he was, you looked up to see him turning away due to embarrassment.

“Look at me, telling me what you want, if you don’t want to, I can stop here”

“No.., Please don’t stop.”

He looked down at you making direct eye contact, he looked as if he Almost teared up at the thought of you leaving him with no relief. Looking like that was enough for you. You unbuckled his belt before pulling down both layers that stood in your way, revealing him and all his glory, you’ve never been more pleased by just a sight. Using your spit and precum as lube, you wrapped your hand around him, giving him a few pumps before kissing and licking his tip which immediately got him to grip your hair. You try your hardest to take all of him in your mouth using your hand for what you can’t take, after getting used to him in your mouth you picked up your pace. Maybe it was the situation that made him so sensitive and needy as you’ve never seen him like this, he did not once push your head down, but gripping your hair with everything he had, he may have been fighting demons not to push you further, even in this situation he wants to make sure you comfortable.

“Can’t...I can’t anymore..”

With those words, you knew he was getting close which you couldn’t allow, not yet anyways. You took your mouth off of him, leaving him in a pleading state.

“My Love, Please..please don’t leave me like this..”

Such a pleading tone should be a sin for anyone but you to hear, you wanted to hear more, so you quickly remove your clothing with swiftness, seeing your body was like seeing the universe to Chan, it’s as if all his prayers and wishes at a fountain has been granted. You go to straddle him, placing your knees beside his sides, you slowly try to place yourself onto him, as he tries to help guide you by holding onto your hips.

“You’re a big boy now huh? Trying to not make me do all the work”

You say before plopping yourself fully onto him, causing him to let out a moan, his head falling onto your shoulders. You sat there for a little to get used to his length and shape, honestly, it didn’t take that long to get used to. The mix of wetness and how perfectly he fit inside you, your walls gripping onto him as if your life depended on it. One of Chan-young’s hands that he had placed at your hips had moved to your back so he could hold you closer during this moment, you thought it was cute, but that quickly left as that hand soon went back to your hips then to your clit rubbing it, his rough hands causing friction causes you to squirm, at this point you were sure he was more than ready for your moving, in which you took the hint to and started to go up and down. His grip on your hips, his cries and pleas, and the look in his eyes couldn’t have made you feel any more pleased.

“You’re so beautiful...Ma”

You felt yourself tighten around him because of his compliments, feeling a knot in your stomach, you knew you were close to your climax, due to his mumbling becoming more inconsistent and incoherent, hearing mixes of pet names like “princess” and “my love”, You try to Quicken your pace, but you find yourself getting tired from doing most of the work. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you even for a minute since you started, so he quickly noticed this and decided to use this as a moment to take some control, before you could even notice you were tossed further up the bed on your back, pissed that you lost that close feeling and most importantly him being inside of you.

“I'm sorry..,”

He found himself hovering over you, grabbing under your legs and moving them to wrap around his waist. His hand goes back to your Waist, while his left-hand goes to your face. Looking into your eyes even when In an attempt to take the lead he still looks helpless, looking for permission. His look couldn’t have seemed any more satisfying to you, at this point you couldn’t take it, it wasn’t just a want from him to be inside of you again it was a need. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, whimpering in his ear.

“You’re ok…you got it”

He didn’t know what was more attractive, the reassuring look on your face, how he could tell you were trying to hide your neediness, or you being verbal. He pushed himself into you, giving you this sense of euphoria. Something about this was different than when you straddled him, hell it was as if that was just a preview to this. At first, he went at a slow pace to make sure everything was okay with you, though you could tell he was on the verge of doing what he wanted. At that moment you moaned out his name begging him to pick up his pace, for someone who was calm and collected that all shattered when you saw how he looked above you. He immediately gave you compliance, he fastened his pace, thrusting in and out of you roughly.

His eyes still full of lustful helplessness, scanned up and down your body. Comments on how beautiful you looked, how grateful he is, and his pet names like Love and Princess continued coming out of his mouth. The knot in your stomach became more apparent, you could feel yourself getting closer. You couldn’t even be vocal by this point, you felt as if he fucked your brains out. All you could do was hit, grip, and scratch at his shoulders while moaning and mumbling.

“Close..I’m close..”

Chan-young finally said it took everything for him to say those words. You nodded in agreement, you noticed something way too late, but you couldn't care less as your reply went along the messy lines of.

“Inside..please just..”

You cut yourself off as you finally hit your climax, your back arching, hell your eyes almost rolled completely to the back of your head. He yet again picked up his pace after seeing this, hitting your sweet spot as you ride out your orgasm. He then shortly after followed you, covering your insides with the warmth of his cum. You both stayed in that spot for a few minutes trying to grasp back onto reality. He finally pulled out, leaving you lying there he went to grab something to clean you up somewhat.

“ I’m seriously grateful for you, I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re the only thing on my mind even in this hell, you make this world, my world so much better.”

He continued as he cleaned you. He was always one for comfort and sweetness, but this time it hit differently because of how the world is, every day is a struggle, yet both of you are worried about each other more than anything. While he got dressed, you sat there under the cover, holding it over your body, god if only you could see how messy you looked. The aftermath is a sight, and your crying a little due to overwhelming senses after he cleaned you up didn’t make it any better, so tear marks could be seen on your face.

Chan-young stood on the other side of the room to button up his shirt, and lawd he looked saur good, even from behind. All things were going well until you saw the door open.

“You’re on for watch - “

One of the other soldiers stood in the doorway staring at the current situation, you could only guess he had to be in a higher rank than Chan, but then you realized the ACTUAL situation that he walked into.

“Oh, uh. Yeah you’re on watch”

The soldier stared at Chan before closing the door. You two stare at each other for a hot minute. How are y’all supposed to process or explain that, at least he didn’t walk in earlier.

(I'm going insane, trust)

[friendlyneighborhoodmermaid]

The Murders of Starlight Lake

Detective Jacob King fiddled with his GPS as he drove to Starlight Lake, it was a rather small lake with streams running into and out of it. The stream that ran to it came from the White  mountains of New Hampshire and the one leading from the lake flowed far out of town. It was a pretty isolated place in a pretty small town filled with old superstitious people. The kind that practice Hoodoo and Voodoo and whatever else there is. 

When the GPS finally started working again he was only a few minutes away from his destination. 

He pulled off to the side of the dirt road and got out of his gray Ford and took in the scene in front of him. The EMT van was already there as well as his other colleges. He sighed and walked over to where they were standing. There was a body of a young man, about twenty half in the water. Detective King walked over to him and crouched down to get a better look. He noticed faint hand prints and scratches around the man's neck. He called the EMT over to come take a closer look. 

“You’re right,” the EMT said. “It looks like he was strangled. I can’t say exactly if that's how he died, but it’s definitely something.” 

After investigating the crime scene and trying to find anything that might help them in their investigation Detective King and his partner Detective Smith came up empty handed. Jacob finished tying up some loose ends and decided to visit the EMTs to see if Dr. Victoria had found anything helpful.

“What ya got for me Vic?”

“Nothing too much.” She said, “Strangulation wasn’t the cause of death, he drowned. There were some interesting marks on his body, some of them looked like bite marks but I’ve never seen an animal with teeth shaped like that.”

“Could it be human?” Jacob questioned. “Maybe he took someone down there to have a bit of fun and things went sideways.”

“I don’t think so, unless this person has modified dentures or they filed their teeth into points. But even then it would be near impossible to get them as sharp and strong as they would need to be to make these types of marks.

But I did find some fish scales.”

“Okay” Jacob said, rubbing his eyes. “Are those going to be any help?”

“Probably not. They're contaminated or something. I did some tests on them to find out what fish they came from, and the tests came back saying that they are half human.”

“That's impossible.”

“I know. Unless we have a killer mermaid on the loose.”

Jacob sighed as he walked across the parking lot to his car. He couldn’t wrap his head around this case. The victim was a healthy young man and when he talked to his parents they told him that he was always a star student. That he never got in trouble and even his girlfriend’s parents loved him. He was a good young man with a lot of potential.

Jacob got to his car and shook those thoughts out of his head before starting the drive home. The street lights reflected off the damp pavement, if it was any other time Jacob would think that it looked romantic. But after today he could only think of how easy it could be for someone to drown. 

Even after getting home and taking a shower his thoughts still returned to the young man in the morgue that would never get married to his high school sweetheart, never get that job that he wanted and never be able to have a life. 

Jacob couldn’t sleep that night. He got up at 2am and got dressed deciding that if he couldn't sleep he might as well get some work done. He got all his stuff together and got into his car and started the drive back to the station. When he got back to his desk he flipped open the case file and read it over again and again. He still couldn’t make sense of it. They should have found something by now, but there were no fibers, no DNA, no sign of struggle at the crime scene. 

It just didn’t make sense. 

He sighed and looked at the clock. It would still be a few more hours before anyone else came in. That gave him plenty of time to go back to Starlight Lake and look over the crime scene again.

Before he knew it he was in his car heading back to the lake.

Maybe we missed something. He thought that wouldn’t be impossible. Things like that have happened before.

He pulled off to the side of the road and reached over to the glove compartment to grab the flash light that he kept in there. He flicked it on and got out of the car shining his light around. If you didn’t know what happened here it would look like a lovely place to relax and escape to. But now it looked sinister. 

The water lapping at the shore that normally would have been a welcome sound now echoed through the night like a cry for help. But for some reason Jacob was drawn to it. Almost like it was calling him over. He shook his head, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that.

He started searching around where the crew had taped off. He was on his knees looking through the grass, trying to find something, anything, the crew might have missed. After twenty minutes he still hadn't found anything. He stood up and walked over to the shore of the lake. He stood on the pebbles that had small waves washing over them. He looked out at the water watching the breeze move the surface of the lake. Movement from in the water caught his eye, he shined his light onto the spot and focused on trying to see anything move. 

He heard a splash like a beaver's tail hitting the water a few feet to the left from where he saw something in the water. He moved his light to that spot, heart racing, breath shortening. He felt scared and excited at the same time. As he swapped the beam of light over the water he caught something shining just a few feet away from him.

He crouched down gazing into the dark water, curiosity taking over. The head of a beautiful young girl broke the surface. Jacob froze in place, he looked into her eyes and felt like he couldn’t move. She came closer to him, her eyes seeming to hold an entire world in them. She reached up to him and touched his face with her cold scaled hand. 

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He didn’t even care when she stretched her mouth open showing her impossibly sharp teeth or when her hand grabbed around his neck, her claws digging into his skin.

He felt his limbs give out as she pulled him closer. He grabbed onto her arms as she dragged him into the lake. The only thing on his mind was her.

a/n: All criticisms welcome. This it something I wrote a couple of years ago. I posted it on my wattpad but decided to post it here to. I'm still learning and want to improve my writing skills, any advice is appreciated.

Thank you and I hope you enjoyed reading this.

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

part v

~

cw: homophobic encounter.

~

November

November shadows, 

shade November change

November spells sweet memory, 

the season blue remains

~

“Lo!” Finn called. “Guess who just got traded to the Rags.”

Cool dread spun its way into Logan’s chest at full force. He felt the point of one of his hips knock against the counter. “Quoi?”

“Marshy and Morgs!” Finn said, and the appeared around the corner into the kitchen, red hair a mess. “Like, together. Like us.”

“These were Harvard teammates, yeah?” Leo asked, spooning sugar into Logan’s coffee.

“Like us?” Logan said. “They’re dating?”

“Oh, no,” Finn laughed. “I just meant together, like, at the same time. Around the same time, I guess I should say.”

“Wow,” Logan nodded, which prompted Finn to imitate the way he said wow, drawing out the W’s. Logan smiled, lifting his cup to his mouth. “We could visit them over the next free weekend maybe.”

“Damn, that’d be a blast to the past.”

“What are they like?” Leo asked, leaning into Logan’s side.

“You’d love Will. Will Morgan, Morgs,” Logan said. “Really level-headed, probably the nicest person I know. Marshy…”

“Percy Marshall is one crazy motherfucker,” Finn said, and poured his own cup of coffee, black.

Logan leaned into mock-whisper to Leo. “And Finn gets insane when they’re together.”

Finn shot him a look, but continued. “Best way to say it. He’ll party until the sun, he’s crazy superstitious—worse than Cap and Loops combined—and he’s also,” Finn slid onto a stool. “One of the hardest working guys you’ll ever met. Probably the hardest working.” Finn’s smile was one Logan’s favorite one, made even more so by the fact that he got to see it directed at Leo. “Until I met you, that is, Nut.”

Leo let out a pleased laugh and let Logan brush a hand through his hair. “Well, they’re in our division now. I’ll get to meet them.”

“Oh, man, we’re in for a fucking treat when we play New York next,” Finn grinned. “Gonna hit the town hard.”

Leo snorted. “You guys might.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek. “I know everyone we need to know.”

“And I can finally tell you,” Logan began. “That the first time you dragged me around New York knowing ever person you saw, I loved you.”

Finn blushed a little and let Leo pull him to settle in the V of his legs from where he was leaning back against the counter. “Well, it’ll be nice to see them.”

Logan nodded, but part of his chest pulled. He cleared his throat. “Ouais. Also…”

When he paused, Leo tapped their socked toes together encouragingly.

Logan shrugged and looked down into his coffee. He thought of Finn’s quick breaths when they took the Cup back to Harvard. He thought of kissing him in their old room. He thought of everything before. Percy and Will were a part of all of that. Not directly, maybe, but Logan knew what seeing them again would do.

“Memories,” Finn said, and Leo nudged him.

“Don’t say it for him.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Memories,” Logan agreed. “Good and bad.”

~

Remus missed the net three times in fifteen minutes, and only barely managed to keep himself from breaking his stick against the boards. He would be embarrassed afterwards if he had, but could it really be so much worse than the way that he felt now?

He accepted Thomas’ fist bump as he passed him going into the locker room and sat down heavily in his stall. The game had been close, but the Devils had won out in the end. He glanced at some of the assistant coaches, who were murmuring together. There was no guarantee it was about him, but it still felt as thought it was. Sirius was talking with Evgeni, Evgeni’s loud laugh warming up the room. Remus stripped out of his sweaty uniform quickly and was headed for the showers with a towel around his waist when someone slapped him on the back.

“It’s decided,” Logan’s accent came from beside him. He wasn’t bothering with his towel, which was slung over his bare shoulder. The fleur-de-lis tattoo on his hip—and everything else—was on full display. “Me and Talker are taking you out tonight.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean exactly?”

Logan just smiled. “No boyfriends. No hockey. We have a day off tomorrow, so no pressure. Just some drinks.”

“And some pool, maybe,” Thomas said, coming up to Remus’ other side. “What do you say, Loops? Fun, eh?”

“Okay, one of you is butt-naked right now and the other is in a three-piece suit. I’m going to say yes and shower, all right?”

Thomas gave a whoop, and Remus couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he dropped his towel in the change room and turned on the hot water. He felt like a sling-shot lately, being catapulted one way, and then in the opposite direction. He guessed he should feel thankful that his friends could pick him up like that, and he did, but another part of him caved in beneath the sheer affection.

I’m letting you down.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, and looked over his shoulder when he felt a gentle, quick kiss against the back of his neck.

“Bonsoir,” Sirius said with a soft smile, and went to the shower head beside him.

“Hi,” Remus smiled back. “Beautiful goal tonight.”

He watched the water lace over Sirius’ tan skin, darkening his hair further as he pushed it back, away from his face. “You’re beautiful.”

“Hey, Olli,” Finn called across the showers, making Olli look over at him. “You’re fucking beautiful, man.”

Olli just squeezed shampoo into his palm. “I know that, Harzy.”

Sirius’ laugh echoed through the showers, joined by others, and Remus let it warm around him like the steam.

“Apparently Tremz and Talkie are taking me out tonight,” he said to Sirius as they walked back into the locker room.

“Tremz,” Sirius called over to him. “Ouch.”

“Pas de capitaines,” Logan waved him off and went back to looking at whatever Leo was showing him on his phone. Sirius laughed and looked back to Remus.

“Sounds perfect,” he said. “Wake me up when you come in if I’m asleep.”

“And go to bed without a kiss?” Remus glanced down at the towel slung low across Sirius’ hips, then back up to his bright silver eyes. “I’d never.”

Sirius smiled and kissed him, but Remus felt the unspoken settling between them. Sirius had stopped bringing up wanting to help with Remus’ shortcomings on the ice. Remus knew he had brought that upon himself with refusals after refusals to talk about it, but now it felt more like a thing. An object. An ugly vase in the corner of the room.

Maybe he really did need to go out tonight.

Thomas settled in his stall beside Remus. “We’re gonna go to Red’s, yeah?”

Remus nodded as he pulled his gray t-shirt over his head. He held up his dark jeans. “I can wear this, right?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m not wearing this thing,” Thomas picked at the lapel of his suit. “Noelle already screen shotted the snapchat I sent her. Why keep it on now?”

Remus just laughed. “All right, Talkie. Lead the way.”

Red’s bar was shoved up against the side of a larger block of buildings in Gryffindor. Remus glanced up, one or two stars were poking through the increasingly cooling loud cover. Inside it was warm, though. Foggy in the way some rooms get when there are lots of happy people in them. Logan had chosen a long-sleeved, dark gray cotton shirt, so thin that Remus could see each ridge of his defined muscles and his necklace, too.

“What the fuck happens when that thing gets wet?” Remus snorted, plucking at it as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I’ll pretend we had a fight,” Thomas said. “Throw a drink on you, find out.”

Logan just eyed them suspiciously as they leaned against the bar. “You guys are strange.”

Thomas just flagged the bartender, stretching the white material of his thin knit sweater. He ordered a whiskey, Logan a rum and coke, and Remus opted for a lighter gin and tonic. They still had a game on barely 72 hours. Not that anyone was that much of a light weight, but he didn’t want any assumptions being made, any photographs taken that could put him in a worse light than he already was.

“I know what this is, you know,” he said after Logan and Thomas’ intense COD debate had gone on too long. They both looked over at him, the picture of innocence. Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Media’s a bitch,” Thomas said. “That’s all this is. Hockey’s hard. You can’t help that you live with Cap, who makes it all look like a piece of cake.”

Logan laughed. “I think Cap would disagree. He stinks after games, mon dieu.”

Remus and Thomas shared a look. “And you don’t?”

“Finn likes it,” Logan smirked. “Gets him going.”

“Are you sure its the stench and not the muscles?” Thomas raised an eyebrow.

Logan waved him off. “I’m not talking about this with you two. We’re here for Loops.”

Remus groaned. “Guys…it’s not…I mean every player goes through this, right?”

They both nodded.

“Sure,” Thomas said. “But it doesn’t help that some people—“

“Assholes,” Logan amended.

“Right. It doesn’t help that some assholes don’t think you deserve to be here.”

Remus tilted his glass towards him. “Yeah.”

“We just think…” Logan began uncertainly, tongue poking out to wet his full bottom lip. “Look, I love Cap. He’s like a brother. But he’s intense. For him…sometimes hockey solves hockey.”

Remus wavered. “Yes and no.”

“We just thought you might want some other ears,” Thomas offered a smile. “I mean we can’t offer a feel good night of lovin’ to make you feel better…”

Remus snorted. “Right. You know, Talkie, that’s exactly what Sirius calls it.”

Thomas cracked up, too. “But we can offer drinks. And, you know…”

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Ears?”

“Right,” Thomas nodded. “Look at Tremzy over here, finishing my sentences.”

Remus let his smile die down a little. “I…thanks, guys. I mean, I love talking to Sirius, but I also…he is the Captain. He’s a representation of all of us. I feel a little…” Remus took a slow breath, not sure if he was even ready for the words to come out of his mouth. “I feel a little like I’m letting him, and you all, down sometimes.”

“Aw, Loops,” Thomas said, voice softened.

“I know,” Remus sighed. “It’s just…it creeps in sometimes.”

Remus watched Logan swallow. “I get it. If there’s anything I can understand it’s guilt.”

“Tremz,” Remus said comfortingly. “I guess I should listen to my own advice here, but it’s not your fault. I can be ears, too, you know.”

“Is this…” Thomas said quietly. “Carrot?”

They both stared at him. “Carrot?”

“Code names,” Thomas whispered, even though the tables were noisy and the bar was somewhat empty.

Logan laughed a little, and nodded.

Remus waited. Logan gathered thoughts slowly, carefully. Interrupting, he’d learned while talking with Leo, tended to scatter them. He was also happy that the spotlight wasn’t entirely on him anymore.

“I found him at Harvard,” Logan began, swallowing dryly despite the drink in his hand. “And I was a mess. And then we spent that year apart, and I was a mess. And then I found him again, in Gryffindor, and I was a mess. I fell in love with Leo and I was a mess.” He looked at them, eyes pleading, then back down at his drink. “I am so, so happy now. It worked out. I can’t believe my luck. I wake up so fucking happy every morning. Every little look at them, my life with them, is incredible.”

Remus and Thomas waited some more. Thomas sent Remus a half smile across him, then leaned his cheek on his fist.

Finally, Logan finished. “But I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t a mess without them.” He closed his eyes, exhaled a frustrated breath through his nose. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah, it really does. Tremz, I get it.” He tilted his glass, making his ice cubes stir the liquid inside. “You’re someone when you’re with who you love. But you gotta be your own someone, too.”

“Ouais,” Logan was already nodded. “Right, like…Re, you’re you, no matter what. Leo, he’s the same way. Finn, too.”

Remus sighed. “I’m not so sure right now. But I think what you’re saying makes sense. Tremz, you’re allowed to want that for yourself. It’s not a slight to the boys. At all.”

Logan laughed, still laced with frustration. He rubbed at his eyes. “But I don’t even know what I’m asking for.”

Remus smiled. “Hate to break it to you, but you’ve got a pretty level-headed duo in your corner. I mean, Finn’s Finn.”

Thomas snorted. “Might take him a second.”

Logan smiled and it was fond. “Yeah.”

“But Leo…” Remus snapped his fingers. “He’ll get it. They both will.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the bar. “I’m not asking for space. I don’t want space. I don’t want anything to change I just want to stop feeling like I’ll crash and burn by myself.”

“Me too,” Remus admitted. “Maybe in a different way, but…me too.”

“I don’t know if I feel like I’m gonna crash,” Thomas said thoughtfully. “But hey, life’s tough sometimes.” He smiled and raised his glass. “Friends.”

They clinked their glasses together, laughing, the conversation turning to organizing a pick-up game in the park that weekend—if it didn’t snow. 

“Gotta use the big WC, gents,” Thomas said after a while, picking up his crutches. “Then pool?”

“Who the hell calls it that?” Remus snorted.

“Me,” Thomas called over his shoulder, politely excusing his way through the crowd with his charming smile and causing a few longing looks to follow him at his back.

Logan drained the last of his rum and coke. “You don’t feel like Cap’s putting pressure on you, do you?”

Remus looked at him, eyes widening for a moment. “God, no. No, he’s been nothing but supportive. It’s mostly me, I think. He even wants to talk about it. Sometimes I just…can’t.”

Logan nodded. “Good. No, good, I just thought I’d ask. When I first met him, he’d get like that with me sometimes. Wanting to run extra drills or talk through tape. I snapped at him for it a bit. This was before he was really who he is now.”

“Parents were lingering in him,” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

A man came to lean against the bar beside Remus, then, and Remus shot him a smile that he hoped looked friendly rather than uneasy. The guy was really in his space. He shared a look with Logan, who’s shoulders were rounded a little in alert, green eyes narrowed in on the guy.

“You’re Lupin, eh?” the man said.

Remus sighed softly, looking down at his now watery drink. He should’ve known.

“Yep,” he replied, and looked at the man. He had two friends, hovering a little ways back.

“What’s going on this season, huh?”

The worst part was that the man was smiling, as if he thought this conversation was going to go well.

“I mean, I know you’re with the Captain and all,” the man said. “But, I mean…come on. Some of us care about how the team does.”

“Excuse me?” Remus replied.

The man tilted his head, looking mockingly regretful. “It’s not just about you.”

“Okay,” Remus said, keeping his voice flat.

“What he do to get you there?” the man asked, leaning in like they were friends. “I mean, like…some type of reward, or does he already give you those at home?”

Remus flushed. “I think we’re done talking.”

At least his friends had the decency to look a little nervous.

The man narrowed his eyes. “I’m just saying.”

“Fuck off, man,” Logan said in a low tone.

“What,” he sneered. “You got yourself a boyfriend, too, Tremblay?”

Logan was on his feet then, stools screeching back, taller than the man, stronger. Remus’ arm shot out against his chest, keeping him and his balled fists back. The man’s friend stepped forward, too.

“Whoa, Mike,” one of the friends said, hesitating. “That’s not why we…that’s not what this is.”

“Oh,” Thomas scoffed, announcing himself as he made his way back to them. He somehow made his crutches and boot look threatening. “Wrong type of harassment for you, my guy?”

The fans’ eyes went large. “Talker…”

Thomas just stared at them, and Remus watched him go from Thomas Walker with his friends to Thomas Walker on the ice, defensemen. Enforcer. “Only my friends call me that. Sit down at your own table or get out.”

Thomas shouldered through them, one crutch landing briefly on Mike’s shoe, who only just bit back a groan. Thomas was all bright, sharp grin as he sat down, leaning his crutches against the bar again. He waved the bartender over, then looked at Mike who was still standing there.

“Do I have say it again for you?” Logan snarled. “Trust me, you don’t want me to.”

Logan sat down slowly as the three men backed up and turned away. Remus pressed a thankful hand to his shoulder, also meant to calm him down a bit.

“Well, that was fun,” Thomas sighed. “Jesus. We take you out to forget about it and those three show up.”

“It’s fine,” Remus said, though his heart was pounding. “I’m surprised that was the first time it happened. Had a close call at the grocery store the other day.”

“Another round?” Logan asked. “Then pool?”

“Ouais,” Remus smiled, in his best impression of Sirius.

~

Most of November passed without change. Remus felt the stagnant ball of frustration in his stomach. He and Sirius cooked together, slowly mastering more and more recipes. Remus lived for the triumphant look on Sirius’ face when a dish came out just right. He went out with Logan and Thomas, with James and Sirius, Finn and Jackson and Kasey. He never felt more at home than when he was tucked against Sirius’ side at a team dinner, watching Logan toss food into Finn’s mouth from across the table, hollering when he caught it and then ruffling an embarrassed Leo’s hair, who was shushing them.

The weather had officially turned to Gryffindor winter, biting harsher and harsher with each night. It got to the point where Marlene started bugging them all about the Christmas video—for the fans, she kept insisting. Come on guys, it’ll be fun!

Evgeni seemed to be the only one who was truly game for it.

Remus wasn’t unhappy, but the media was growing more and more aggravated with him, the fans’ patience was running thin like ice, and now Arthur had started sending him glancing looks until, finally, he pulled Remus into his office as the boys were packing up.

The ball rolled around Remus’ ribs, fighting for space with his heart, and he sat in the leather chair across from Arthur’s desk.

Arthur took off his glasses, which was a bad sign. He didn’t say anything for a long time and Remus didn’t have the courage to make him.

“I know,” Remus finally said, and then his throat choked up. “I’m…”

“I don’t want any apologies,” Arthur said. “And, God, Lupin, I didn’t bring you in here to yell at your so get that look off your face.”

Remus blinked through the scarce relief and looked down at his hands.

“Media’s being real tough, I know,” Arthur sighed. “I know. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Remus said. “I’m just…it’s not connecting, I…I don’t know. Maybe I could put in more time one-on-one with one of the coaches. Or ground work with the trainers. I know we’re about to go on the road. Maybe tomorrow morning before practice.”

Arthur hesitated, then nodded. “If you’d like. But overworking yourself isn’t gonna help if that’s not the issue. Frankly, I don’t think skill is the issue. You’re a beautiful skater out there. You’re wicked fast and can misdirect hits like I’ve never seen. But…”

“No net,” Remus mumbled.

Arthur looked regretful. “No net.”

Remus nodded. “I’m working on it. I’m doing everything I can.”

“I don’t doubt that, Remus. Really. Don’t think I do. I’ll be seeing you at the Dumais Thanksgiving, yeah?” Arthur asked.

Remus nodded, spared a smile. “Of course.”

Arthur smiled back and rose. He clapped Remus on the back as he opened the door to his office again. “Good. Try and relax over the break, okay? I know it’s short, but sometimes its less work that pays off. It doesn’t always have to be more.” He looked up. “Ah, another young rascal I’ve had to say that to.”

Remus looked up to see Sirius’ smile, his dark hair curling against his neck, but otherwise tucked under a thick black winter hat. Every muscle in Remus’ body eased at the sight of him. He wanted to wrap himself up in Sirius, tuck himself inside of his winter coat and never leave.

“Cap,” Arthur gave him a nod. “See you for Turkey. Who you’ve got for the big game?”

Sirius just shrugged. “American football. Who cares?”

Arthur made a wounded noise—and another one came from Leo and Thomas down the hall as they were bundling up for the cold. Evgeni was holding Thomas’ crutches for him as Jackson helped him into his coat. Remus cracked up and took the warm palm Sirius held out. They walked down the hallway that smelled familiar and warm, under toned by the scent of carpet and cleaner that, had it been any stronger, would have been unpleasant, but it just added to the familiarity.

The garage door rattled shut behind them as Sirius unlocked their back door, letting them into their warm kitchen. Remus shook out of his coat, hanging it in the closet and rubbing his hands together. With his coat and bag, he tried to drop everything else at the door. This was his and Sirius’ space. This wasn’t a rink, or a locker room, or the press room. Theirs. The word was warmer than the heat Sirius had set to come on a half hour before they got home.

“I’m starving,” he said. “What do you feel like? I maybe want pasta.”

“I feel like you,” came the reply from behind him.

Remus’ smile was slow and he turned to see a glint in Sirius’ eye. “What is it, the cold weather? You’ve been all riled up after games lately.”

Sirius just grinned, hands squeezing Remus’ hips. “I love watching you out there.” He pressed a kiss to Remus’ cheek, his neck and his nose, between each phrase. “I love your face, I love your feet, I love your shoulders, and the way you bite the finger of your glove while you watch the game between shifts.” The kisses got considerably more heavy, lingering and accompanied by the the brush of a tongue and teeth. “I love the way you cradle a puck and the way you tape your stick. The way your hair sticks to your neck.”

Remus just smiled, eyes closed. “I’ve been playing like shit.”

“Nu-uh,” Sirius said, and Remus whined a little at the next nip, letting Sirius rock him back against the kitchen counter. “Slumps are normal. You play amazing. Just no points. Shit and slumps,” Sirius said, and Remus’ mouth went dry as he was lowering himself to his knees. “Shit and slumps are different.”

Remus let out a laugh. “Aren’t those the words to turn a guy on.”

Sirius just grinned and bit at his pants zipper. “I love you.”

“Better choice.”

Sirius carefully pulled Remus’ zipper down. “Can I? Here?”

Remus only reply was tugging Sirius’ hat free to get at his hair, the thick strands weaving between his fingers. He could already feel himself getting interested, pressing against the slip of his boxers by Sirius’ proximity alone.

“Sirius Black,” Remus sighed as Sirius nuzzled against him.  He stroked over his hair, overwhelmed with how much every part of Sirius meant to him. “I love you.”

Sirius took one of the hands Remus had in his hair by and kissed the inside of his wrist.

Remus let Sirius’ mouth fuzz his mind out, moaning softly at his hollowed out cheeks, laughing at the gentle nips to his hips and thighs. After, Sirius kissed him against the counter until both of their stomachs growled. Remus pressed his mouth against Sirius’ flushed hot cheek.

“I feel like a million bucks, thanks, baby.”

Sirius just smiled, tucking himself away.

It was true. Remus felt home. Settled. Almost as if he could forget the conversation today. Maybe even like he wanted to go down the the basement rink, just for fun, which he hadn’t felt like in a while.

“D’accord,” Remus sing-songed. “We have pasta or chicken or both.”

Sirius grinned. “Both.”

They were mostly quiet as they cooked, bumping hips, iPhone playing softly through their speakers. Remus watched the way Sirius kept his fingers carefully curled away from the knife, like Remus’ mom had taught him that summer. His tongue peaked out of the corner of his mouth, the same way it did when he was carrying a puck up the ice.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius asked softly as Remus minced garlic.

Remus glanced over at him, then kept his eyes on his fingers, so close to the sharp blade. “Um. Coach says it’s not my fault. He says I’m playing well. It’s just…pointless.”

“C’est pas—”

“No, not like pointless, like, pointless. Like I’m not getting net.”

“Ah.”

They smiled at each other, Remus’ a little shakier.

“Yeah.”

I feel like I’m letting you down.

“I feel…” Remus began, and the words caught. “Um. I mean, it’ll get better. It has to.”

Sirius’ expression flickered, but he nodded. “Mhm.”

“Do you feel like a white sauce?” Remus asked, turning to the refrigerator. “Go well with the chicken.”

“Sure,” Sirius nodded. “Sounds perfect, mon loup.”

Remus took a long breath as he opened the refrigerator doors, maybe taking longer than necessary to find the half & half. He was angry at himself. He didn’t know why the words were sticking to the back of his throat. He didn’t want pity, he supposed. He didn’t want Sirius to feel like he had to comfort him. Remus closed his eyes.

He’d do better.

~

Leo and Finn had their shoulders pressed together, each with their own book in their hands, when Logan opened the apartment door.

“Got the cream,” Logan raised the shopping back, and Leo all but leapt from the cushions.

“Yeah you do,” Finn said without looking up.

“Thank you,” Leo slid on his socks in his rush to get to Logan. He pressed his palms to Logan’s cold cheeks, kissing him in a quick burst. “Thank you, thank you, I love you.”

Logan smiled as Leo scurried back into the kitchen to finish making his part of the the American Thanksgiving dinner Pascal was hosting.

“I can’t believe I ran out,” Leo said, stirring something on the stove.

“It’s fine, Le,” Logan said, shrugging out of his jacket and following him in. “Happy to get you whatever you need.”

Leo turned, a touched pout on his face, and Logan beat him to it this time with a slower kiss of his own. Leo tasted like the caramel he had had them all taste test earlier and Logan licked into his mouth eagerly.

“I love you, too,” Logan mumbled.

Leo’s expression softened in the way it always did when one of them said that. Maybe Logan wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe his luck.

“Want to peel sweet potatoes?” Leo asked with a hopeful grin, and Logan laughed.

“Sure, soleil.”

Finn gasped from the couch, eyes on his book, glasses on his nose. “They kissed. I fucking knew they would.”

Leo gasped, too. “No. Harzy, spoilers, you’re faster than me.”

Logan looked between them. “Are you guys reading the same book again, like, next to each other?”

“Sorry,” Finn said, but he was gripping the book like another secret might spill out. “And yes.”

Leo pressed a peeler into his hands with another kiss, this one fast and skittering across his cheekbone.

“I love both of you,” Logan sighed as he picked up the first potato. “You’re weird.”

Finn closed his book without marking his place and heaved himself up with a groan, cracking his back. He came to sit at the bar counter across from where Logan was peeling.

“Thanks for the help, Harz,” Logan said.

“I don’t like it when my hands smell like potato.”

Leo laughed. “Sweetheart, how’d you ever survive on your own?”

“Take out,” Finn and Logan answered at the same time.

“And catering,” Finn added. “I think the NHL is used to boys who can’t cook. Marlene just slid the caterer’s card into my hand without a word.”

Leo just shook his head. “She tried the same thing on me. Honey, please.”

Logan and Finn shared a smile, both turning to gaze at Leo’s back.

“How much time do we have?” Leo asked.

“Like, two hours, babe, you’re good,” Finn said.

“Do I have time to ravish you in your glasses?” Logan asked.

Finn raised a teasing eyebrow. “Oh, these old things? You want to wear them?”

Logan dropped his peeler and walked around the counter. He spun Finn to face him on the stool and Finn’s feet hooked around his calves, holding him there. “Non.”

Finn smiled, leaning forward to nip at Logan’s bottom lip and pull.

“Tremblay, potatoes.”

Logan groaned and Finn gave his butt a firm slap as he pulled away. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

~

“Uh, hey dad,” Cole cleared his throat. “It’s me. I just um. I’m in Pascal Dumais’ house. Can you believe that? Uh, I just wanted to say…you know, happy Thanksgiving, and all that. Maybe you can come out to a game soon? Yeah…let me know, I can get you tickets. Okay. Okay, see you. Merry—or happy Thanksgiving. Yeah, okay. Bye.”

Cole sighed as he put his phone down and looked around the Dumais’ sitting room. It was tidy, with food laid out every table, ready for guests. Cole, after that phone call, already felt tired.

There was a knock on the doorframe and he turned to see Layla, smiling at him hesitantly. She held out a glass of a deep colored wine. “I thought maybe you’d want some.”

“Oh, I can’t, uh…” Cole began.

Layla snorted. “Me neither, but…” she glanced around the tall-ceilinged living room. “Who’s gonna tell? Dumo? Please.”

Cole laughed a little and took the thin stem from her fingers. “Thank you.”

Layla nodded, bending for a cheese and cracker. “That sounded a little tough. If you don’t mind me saying.”

Cole pocketed his phone. “It’s not really. Well…maybe now it is. But I don’t think of him that way, of this that way. He’s a good father.”

He sounded defensive even to himself and sighed. “When he decides to be.”

“He hard on you?” Layla asked. She took a seat on the couch and Cole glanced around before settling on the ottoman of one of the fat leather chairs. “About all this?”

“Hockey?” Cole said, then laughed. “No. No way, he doesn’t give a shit about ice hockey. My mom got me into hockey. My dad still hopes I’ll be, like, I don’t know…I don’t know what.”

Layla frowned. “It’s not like you could’ve been a money-bags doctor and chose to paint watercolors instead?”

Cole cracked a smile. “Yeah…Yeah, he sort of skipped around a lot before I actually started getting good.”

“Oh,” Layla said softly.

The doorbell rang. And then rang again and again, like someone was jamming their finger into it repeatedly.

“Tremzy!” he heard Katie shriek a moment later.

Warm voices filled the hall.

Cole rose and, after a moment, offered Layla a hand. She smiled, letting him pull her up. “It’s not as sob-story as it sounds.”

“I get it,” Layla nodded. “My older sister skipped altogether when I was little. Still don’t know why. I know it’s not the same but…”

“I’m sorry,” Cole said.

Layla just smiled, one of her bright ones, and wrapped her hand—gold rings and all—around his arm. “Come on. Shit’s about to get wild.”

“And delicious,” Cole said, turning towards the smells coming from the kitchen.

Layla laughed, and Cole wanted to hear that sound twenty more times.

[jaskierswolf]

Hey babe <3 Here's a soulmate concept for you: soulmates share a braincell and all of the same kinks. (It's us. This is a callout post for us)

Soooo this is going undercut from the get go... I wasn’t sure how I was going to write this but once I started I kinda fell in love with it. It’s also late so I’m not sure how effective proof reading was....

Geraskier modern AU - Soulmates but kinky? 1.4k.

Warning: 18+, no actual sex but this is very horny...., mentions of sex toys, masturbation, handcuffs... and more? Seriously... 18+ Only.

Now with a sequel by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

Part Three now up

Also on AO3

Geralt was having a shit day, shit week really. Ciri had been sent home from school the day before for fighting with one her classmates, despite the fact that she had been defending herself from a bully. Work at the fire station had been especially draining too, non-stop calls all week. He was irrationally angry at the world, not helped by the burning itch under his skin. He’d been unbelievably frustrated all week and no matter how much he jerked off in the shower, he just couldn’t get rid of that ache at his core. His dreams this week had been pure filth, dreams of bursting through a window into a burning building to rescue the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, gorgeous cornflower blue eyes that haunted him even during his waking hours.

Dandelion’s eyes.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. His infatuation with the OnlyFans star was getting out of hand. He’d discovered Dandelion just over a year ago, his dating life was non-existent and he had been getting unbearably horny. He’d stumbled upon Dandelion on a desperate bid to sate his growing urges. It had worked for a few months, but lately it had only been getting worse again. Every Monday evening he’d spend in frustrated torment, dreaming of Dandelion in lingerie, or watching him as he brought himself to the edge of an orgasm before letting out a pitiful whine as he gripped the base of his cock before he could come. This week he’d been plagued with the thought of Dandelion going about his day with a plug up his arse so that, by the time he was ready to record his video, he could get straight to fucking himself on his favourite bright pink vibrator.

The thought of the lube sliding down Dandelion’s thick thighs as he pulled out the plug had been enough to send Geralt over the edge as he bit down on his hand, come painting the bathroom tiles white before being washed away.

The weirdest part about Geralt’s fantasies was that no matter what he thought, or dreamt during the week, Dandelion’s videos would match when they were released on Wednesday. So Geralt was taking bets on either a role-play where Dandelion needed rescuing or the butt plug, he was secretly hoping butt plug, the fireman rescue scenario would be too close to home. He was already struggling to put distance between his life and Dandelion’s online one. He sighed and pulled out his phone to check the time. The video wouldn’t be released for another couple of hours at least, which was fine. He wouldn’t be able to watch it until Ciri was safely tucked up in bed, the unenviable life of a single parent. First he needed to finish the grocery shopping, pick up Ciri from school, cook dinner, help Ciri with her homework and then maybe watch some TV with her before he could bundle her upstairs to bed. It felt like an awful lot of work for his day off.

He groaned again, thinking about Dandelion in public had been a mistake, and one he’d made countless times before. If he were the superstitious type, he might have said that Dandelion was his soulmate. There were all sorts of papers and articles that suggested that soulmates existed, that your soulmate was one that understood you on a level that no one else did, that you in some way were telepathically linked. On one hand it would explain how a random OnlyFans porn star knew exactly what Geralt had been dreaming of all week despite the fact he never mentioned it in his comments, on the other hand it was bullshit.

Utter bullshit.

He grumbled under his breath and went in search of the snack aisle. He’d been craving white chocolate covered pretzels all day and Ciri had finished his supply off without telling him. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the other man standing by his favourite snacks until it was too late. He crashed into him, putting his arms around the other man to stop him from falling.

And suddenly bright cornflower blue eyes were staring up at him.

“Fuck!”

Geralt stared back into the eyes of Dandelion… the man he’d been infatuated with for months.

“Umm… hi?” Dandelion gave a little wave, biting his lip and running his hand through his soft brunet hair. Geralt swallowed as Dandelion released his lip, a move he’d done thousands of times in his videos.

“Sorry,” Geralt grumbled. “Wasn’t thinking straight.”

Dandelion laughed, a beautiful musical laugh that was even more captivating in person. “Oh darling, I never think straight. I’m Jaskier, by the way.”

Dandelion, no Jaskier, extended his hand and Geralt took it, surprised by his firm grip.

“Geralt.”

“White chocolate covered pretzel?” Jaskier asked, tilting his head and passing Geralt a box.

Geralt blinked and took the box without thinking. “Thanks.”

Geralt’s thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour and yet he could only manage single syllable words whilst Jaskier smiled at him, brighter than the fucking sun. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so smitten.

Shit.

Jaskier just laughed again, his hand gripping Geralt’s arm. “Forgive me for being bold, but you sir, are fucking gorgeous.”

Geralt licked his lips, barely resisting the urge to push the brunet up against the shelves and kiss him senseless, but he knew he needed to tell Jaskier the truth before anything else was said. “You’re Dandelion.”

Jaskier blushed very prettily and scratched the back of his neck. “Ah. Yes. Hello.”

“Sorry, I thought you should know,” Geralt frowned, he hadn’t meant to make Jaskier uncomfortable. “I umm… I like your videos.”

Fuck, why had he said that?

Jaskier laughed, the sounding easing the tension in Geralt’s shoulders, and winked. “Oh so do I, they’re a pleasure to make.”

Geralt smiled at the joke. “What’s the video this week?”

“That would be telling. What would you like it to be, Geralt?” Geralt name fell from his lips like fucking prayer.

Geralt’s mouth went dry as he thought about his fantasies from Monday night, and the dreams of rescuing Dandelion that had he rutting against his bedsheets in his sleep. “Had a couple of ideas.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well how about you give me your number, and we can discuss this somewhere more… private?”

Geralt nodded and they exchanged numbers. Geralt felt like he’d stepped into a fever dream, why Jaskier hadn’t been put off when he’d admitted he was a fan, he had no idea, but he wasn’t complaining. They’d only just met but Geralt couldn’t shake the feeling that Jaskier was going to change his life. He felt lighter already, the day seemed brighter. He was just saying goodbye to Jaskier when the man shuffled awkwardly, letting out a soft moan, his face flushing deep crimson.

“Jaskier?”

“Fuck, sorry. I umm, I’m filming a bonus video later tonight. Once I’ve posted Monday’s. It needed a little prep work,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile. “If you catch my drift.”

Geralt blinked at Jaskier. “The fuck?” He muttered mostly to himself. “You didn’t happen to record a role-play on Monday did you?”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Tell me.”

Geralt took a deep breath and then closed his eyes, not wanting to see Jaskier’s face when he admitted it. “Been dreaming about it. Your videos always seem to align with my dreams, or umm… thoughts when I’m alone.”

“Like… soulmates?” Jaskier’s hand was on his cheek, the contact burning his skin and he felt a swell of arousal, heat prickling his skin.

“Never believed in that,” Geralt admitted, opening his eyes to find Jaskier gazing back at him with wide hopeful eyes that made Geralt feel strangely warm inside. “Starting to wonder though.”

Jaskier leaned in, brushing his lips against Geralt’s cheek. “Call me, Geralt, who knows maybe I’ll even make a video specially for you? Or…” Jaskier smirked, winking in a way that should have been illegal “you could always join me. There’s some things I’ve been dying to film that simply require a partner.”

“I’ll bring the handcuffs,” Geralt murmured so that only Jaskier could hear.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh we are going to get along splendidly, Geralt.”

Geralt chuckled as Jaskier sauntered away down the aisle, filling his basket with Geralt’s favourite foods. “Soulmates,” he scoffed.

Maybe it wasn’t bullshit after all.

[cottoncandyjester]

🥺🥺 I love Luis, Azul, and Iago. Can we meet the final alters too?

Of course! Let’s go down the roster and kinda talk about their roles

Warning this contains: talk about self harm, suicide, DID, yandere behavior, violence

Iago- protector, 33

Iago is the system’s main protector

He usually only fronts when they are stressed out

The smell and sight of Blood also triggers him out since blood always startles luis

There are times where members of the gang force him out and it’s quite painful and annoying

He is so hostile to people cause he is doing everything he can to scare off whatever the threat to the system is

When around their partner he’s a lot more relaxed and calm though he still a tad grumpy

He usually doesn’t care about what they wear or appearance since he is never fronting that much but he can’t stand azul’s style and finds it embarrassing.

Is very violent and willing to kill to protect the system

He often only protects the system via physical violence or taking the physical abuse while astro is more of an emotional protector and takes the emotional abuse

Azul- gatekeeper, 25

Azul is an alter with an interesting personality for sure

He’s a dreamer and constantly has his head in the clouds

He loves to star gaze

Is such a romantic that it’s almost insanely cheesy

His role as gatekeeper is to ensure that no one fronts when they aren’t supposed to

He also helps ensure everything is running smoothly

Due to his ability to force certain alters from fronting whenever he wants he sometimes abuses that power though he feels a tad guilty afterwards

He loves pastel colors so if he’s fronting when it’s time for them to get ready he will absolutely dress them in pastels(much to luis annoyance)

He often is co fronting instead of fronting all the way since it’s faster to block someone else out so due to this he’s seen a lot of their trauma and is always ready to quickly switch in when needed

He loves painting and their clothes will be covered in paint splatters from painting when we he has an ounce of control

He is the most knowledgeable about the system knowing almost everything about it

He’s such a pervert it’s awful

He loves to tease their darling

From sexual hand gestures to “innocently” eating food in a sexual manner

He of course would never act on these urges without everyone’s permission since it feels disrespectful and could be traumatizing but he’s excited for the day where their lovely host loses his virginity

Blaise- trauma holder,18

Paranoid French boy

While the protectors and azul have some memories of the trauma, Blaise ensure none of the others confront the awful memories and relive it

Blaise doesn’t front often due to their extreme paranoia of everything and everyone as well as

When they do front they usually space out reliving those memories or fronts to take even more trauma

Hella thick French accent

When panicked they will start crying and ranting in French

Very sensitive

They definitely do not trust their darling at first no matter how much the alters adore them

The first time they fronted infront of their darling they hid under a table for about an hour rocking back and forth praying in French while the trauma memories played in their head for god knows how long until another alter took over

Even now he’ll say a polite greeting to their darling before keeping his distance.

This being said he will watch their darling from afar, just watching as they do random things looking all lovestruck

The moment their darling sees him staring though he’s looking down

Any type of yelling and it’s immediately going to apologize or covering their face waiting to be hit

He slouches the most out of all the alters

He is constantly stuttering

He is very superstitious

Like he believes in all the superstitions which is why he’s deathly afraid of black cats

Caligo-persecutor,22

He terrorizes the alters into being antisocial

In his eyes they don’t need help they don’t need anyone else

Cause of this they would try to kill their darling or at least get them to leave claiming to hate them and how utterly dangerous they are

Will and does engage in self harm as well as flooding the system with thoughts of suicide

The way he sees it he’s protecting the system from outside trauma by whipping them into acting reserved and distant

Cause of him their body has scars and burn marks on their inner thigh

If one of the alters act out he’ll punish the body for it through verbal and physical abuse

He is constantly reminding them that they deserve this abuse and that’s what they get for getting close to people

They want the system to be isolated from everyone, it’s safer that way.

Everyone in the system fears/ hates them

Despite their abuse to the system he was once a great protector like iago but he realized how Dangerous it is to get attached to life and people

When in control he lashes out at everyone in the gang causing them to distant themselves from the system.

Will also starve the body when in control as punishment for doing something “dangerous”

No matter how much azul tries to keep him out it takes so much energy to that he sometimes slips through

To make it worse the more Luis tries to ignore him and the more intense he gets. He truly wants to protect but all the alters see him as nothing but a pain

He gets pissed when ignored and abandoned so when his rage hits a boiling point he tends to just snap and go on a warpath destroying everything and everyone in his way

Astro-caregiver/ protector

He usually takes care of blaise and the other alters giving them words of praise and encouragement

He is an older brother/ fatherly type figure

Despite this he’s ageless though he presents himself as a young male

He would definitely baby their darling calling them nicknames like sweetpea or honey

He also tends to front when around kids or someone behaving in a weak or childlike manner

He usually doesn’t front though and mostly just hangs around giving pep talks and words of wisdom

When emotional abuse happens he relaxes and comforts the system to keep them calm

Is very nurturing and the others usually beg him to front when their darling is distressed since they have no idea what to do

He also helps the system cope in healthy positive ways

So him and caligo don’t get along too much

Despite this he sees all the alters as important members of the system saying that without them luis wouldn’t be able to cope

He also remind the body to yonow eat and stuff

All around just so loving

[onlydreamofmysoul]

The new (and last 😭)sweater weather chapter put this situation in my head and I don’t have the talent to make it real:

How would Remus react after he learns he can be a player on the team? and how does the rest of the team react? and how does the media react? and what does Sirius say? and what is his first game like? And what does Jules and his family think? AND AND AND ????

Of course u don’t have to do anything and I adore your writing just thought I would share some of my frantic ramblings.

I’m getting lots of ones like these! My brain has been spinning with so many ideas but one that stuck with me were Remus’ old superstitions.

Characters and their wonderful world by @lumosinlove

Half Sheer Dumb Luck

Calf stretches before thigh

Remus just stared at coach Weasley.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’d like to offer you a place on the team.”

Remus wasn’t sure he could trust himself to blink, never mind talk. “Is this a joke?”

Arthur stepped forward, his face calm and reassuring. “Remus, no, of course not. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do that to you. We, all of us, the organisation, the team, we’ve reviewed your tapes. We’ve seen you play. And we want you on the team.”

“The team knows.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Arthur nodded.

“Sirius knows.”

He nodded again.

“This is real?”

Arthur smiled as he nodded this time. “As real as me standing here right now.”

“I’ll have to be ready.” Remus’ hands were shaking. “There’s so much to do.”

Coach stepped forward and placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Yeah, there is. But I don’t think there’s a better man up for the job.”

“Oh my god.” Remus thought his knees were going to give way.

Arthur grinned and pushed Remus away from him lightly. “Now go talk to your boy. Not being able to tell you has been killing him.”

Remus nodded and walked away in a daze. Sirius was right where he left him, chatting to Thomas and Noelle. He smiled when he saw Remus.

“He… he wants me to join the team?”

Thomas let out a whoop. “Loops knows!”

The tent went up in cheers but Remus could only see Sirius.

“Is.. Would that be okay for you?”

Sirius frowned, pulling Remus right up against his chest. “Would that be okay? Oh my love, there’s nothing in the world that I would love more.”

Remus laughed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I’m going to be on the Lions.”

Sirius kissed him, slow and filled with love. “You already are.”

“I’m going to have to train non-stop.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You’ll train over the summer?” Remus asked disbelievingly. Sirius kissed his forehead, then his nose and finally his lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

The rest of the team then decided they had enough waiting and piled on, a massive group hug in the middle of the wedding reception, Remus right in the centre.

Two bottles of water on the bench.

“Mom, I have some news.” Remus said over the video call, his voice shaking. He could practically see his mother looking at his hand to see if there was a ring.

“It’s not that mom jeez, can you grab dad and Jules too?”

Remus waited until they were all together for him to speak again.

“So, the Lions organisation found my old tapes.” He began, “They started looking after they saw me play at family skate.”

Jules was just listening, bouncing in his seat waiting for Remus to get to the point. His mother looked concerned, but his father looked, almost knowing.

Remus swallowed, wishing he could tell them in person - he and Sirius were visiting next week but Remus needed to tell them in order for it to feel real. He was glad he was sitting on the couch at home, he needed some sense of normality.

“I’ve been asked to join the Lions.”

“I don’t understand. You already work with the Lions?”

“No mom, not as staff. I’ve been asked to join. As a player.”

Julian let out a whoop so loud Remus might have heard it without a phone. “Re, did you say yes? You had to say yes, please tell me you said yes!”

Remus laughed, nodding his head. “Of course I said yes.”

Hope promptly burst into tears and there was a definite pool forming in his dad’s eyes.

“Oh Re,” His mother breathed, “Oh my darling this is so, so wonderful.”

“No one deserves this more than you.” His dad was saying. “I am so proud.”

“Re does that mean I get to come to all of your games! Oh my god, you’ll be famous! I mean, you’re already famous, but you’ll be more famous! Re! You’ll be rich!”

Remus burst out laughing, looking around at the ridiculously large house he was in already, “I don’t think I need the money Jules.” While his mother rolled her eyes.

Julian gasped as another thought flew into his head. “Remus! I need to get your jersey!”

Sirius walked into the room, and perked up, “Oui! We need your jersey Re!”

Remus covered his face with his hands. “I don’t even have a jersey.”

“Yet.” Sirius corrected, curling up next to him and kissing his cheek. “You don’t have a jersey yet.”

Right foot first to step onto the ice.

“Es-tu prêt?” Sirius asked as they stood outside the locker room. Remus took a deep breath in.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The clamour of the locker room was deafening, but Remus wouldn't have it any other way.. He nearly cried laughing when he saw that Nado and Kuny had decorated his new stall with pictures of Sirius, all copied and printed from social media with edits of Sirius shirtless and captions and endless heart-eyed emojis. He hugged Leo who was in the stall next to him and when he sat down to lace up his skates, he relished the feeling that he was part of the team. Because he was part of the team now, really and truly.

He met the new PT - Dorcas, with whom he knew he’d become fast friends. He also set about telling her all the ins and outs of working with the boys, their little superstitions, their tells when they were lying about their injuries. She just smiled and thanked him and told him to kindly fuck off and enjoy his first day, he could tell her all this another time.

The boys made a big show of letting Remus be the first out onto the ice (After you my good man) and while Remus rolled his eyes and smacked the back of a few heads playfully (Finn, Thomas and James), this was the moment he had waited for all of his life.

Right foot first, he stepped onto the ice.

Pasta and marinara before home games,

“Loops, what are you doing? I told you I would cook before your first game!”

Remus smiled and tilted his head up to kiss his boyfriend, placing both hands on his chest. “Baby, I love you, but you can cook precisely three dishes, and this isn’t one of them.”

Sirius pouted. “Your mom is teaching me.”

Remus nodded, “I know, that’s the only reason you can make those three dishes.”

Sirius shook his head smiling but he kissed Remus, nipping his bottom lip playfully.

“Are you nervous?”

“Terrified.”

“You’ll be incredible.”

“And if I’m not.”

Sirius kissed him. “If you’re not well then,” Sirius shrugged with one shoulder, “Then you try again next time. What was it a wise man once said? You always have more than one shot.”

Remus scrunched his nose. “That makes me sound like an old man.”

“A sexy old man.” Sirius commented and Remus just groaned. “Oh my god get out of here.”

Chicken and broccoli before away.

“Ha!” Sirius exclaimed when Remus walked into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of his boyfriend cooking. “Je prépare le dîner ce soir.”

“... You don’t know how to make this one.”

Sirius put a hand to his chest in a wounded gesture. “You think I would give you food that is not good on a game day? Mon loup, how little faith you have.”

Remus felt a smile playing on his lips. “So you’ve magically learned how to cook?”

Sirius shook his head. “Non, that wouldn’t be magic, that would be a miracle. I have however, been taking lessons from your mother. Secret face-time lessons, when you’re out. I’m getting quite good.”

“You’ve been taking secret fact-time cooking lessons from my mother?”

Sirius nodded and held out a spoon for Remus to try. Remus dodged the spoon and kissed him instead. “I love you.”

Eggs morning of, pancakes after a win

“So,” Remus said, stepping into the locker room. “Who’s up for some pancakes?”

The roaring affirmative made Remus laugh before a warm weight barrelled into him.

“Hi Jules!”

Jules had taken to wearing both Remus and Sirius’ jersey at the same time to games, because he apparently couldn’t choose a favourite. He alternated between which one he wore on the outside. Today, it was Remus’, with LUPIN splashed across the back, the number 6 bold in the centre.

“Can I come get pancakes too?”

Sirius appeared behind Julian and threw him up into the air before setting him back on his feet, Jules giggling the whole time. 

“We could never get pancakes without my favourite Lupin!”

“Hey!” Remus protested, but he looked at Julian’s set of jerseys and smiled. 

“I suppose you can have two favourites.”

Finn, walking by, cupped his hands to his mouth. “Preach!”

Drag the puck around the crease twelve times.

“Hey Loops, are you coming to stretch?”

Remus smiled at James. “I’ll be over in a second Pots, I just have to do something first.”

James nodded and went to skate away before pausing. “Wait!” He looked at Remus sheepishly. “Blue?”

Remus shook his head fondly. “You’re so lucky I knew you’d ask for that.” He said ducking to grab a bottle of blue Gatorade he had taken from the kitchen for exactly this purpose. “Love you Fruit Loop!”

“Not as much as me, I hope.” Sirius commented as he stepped out onto the ice. “You coming?”

Remus shook his head. “Just gotta, you know.”

“Skate around the crease twelve times.” Sirius smirked. “I thought you weren’t superstitious.”

Remus flushed a dark red. “I’m not! But I’m not going to risk it either!” He laughed when he realised Sirius was teasing him and pushed him away lightly.

“Oh shove off, you can’t say anything.”

Sirius just continued to smirk at him as he skated backwards. “Love you too.”

Remus looked around the packed stadium as the anthem played and he pressed his star necklace to his lips. Looks like he had another tradition.

[accio-victuuri]

Style Guide : Xiao Zhan

Zhan Zhan’s style evolution from the cute and warm boy next door to a Top Entertainer. from his trending airport fashion, designer bags and transition to streetwear— here is his story.

I originally wanted to include stuff from his university days but settled on when he started on c-ent. It’s not secret that he was popular in his University and is a fan of designer brands from the start. I will also use airport photos before the ban. for the clothes after, I will just post the picture of what he wore.

I. XFIRE & Idol career

He initially started as a contestant in survival show called x-fire where people saw him as this warm guy who had a really good voice. Once he debuted as part of XNINE, more and more people started noticing him. His unique style that leans more on Japanese chic is what makes him a favorite of fans to photograph in the Airport.

You will see videos of him talking to fans who are there and visiting. You would not think he is as tall he is when you look at his photos. With X-NINE, he blended well with the concepts they have and it’s not as drastic as how KPOP acts do it. He still preserved the quiet and gentle image.

II. Life as an Actor

Xiao Zhan was still promoting with XNINE when he started being active in Dramas. Including the Wolf, that made him decide he wants to be an Actor.

Around this time, he also started shooting the Untamed. His style pretty much remained the same. With his soft and oversized cardigans. However, we get glimpses of him starting to use streetwear. And definitely darker colors.

III. Rising Star

In 2019 and with the Untamed making him a household name— his style has transitioned into a less complicated one. He still had the quirky tops from time to time but his general style has moved into street. I don’t think he ever had an interview where he addressed this and why he changed. One thing is, this makes him less recognizable by people.

In events, he always stuns with high end brands that he partners with. You can also notice that his style has a more matured edge to it. A top actor who is confident who he is and it just make the clothes match him so much better.

IV. Spotlight

After the ban of airport photos and anything outside of his live events— he still continues to carry himself with the same style. oftentimes with a cap and his mask on, completely covering his face. He also preferred baggy pants and nike shoes.

In his rehearsal pictures, the same style is also seen.

HIS STYLE QUIRKS.

1. Oversized cardigans - This is his signature style especially in the early days. It’s impossible to not search for him and not see these moments. In his interviews, he is always asked about this type of style and how achieves it. He countered saying that just use clothes that are comfortable to you. Yeah, those big cardigans really look soft and comfy.

One other thing is that he became really know for a few that he wore at that time. They either get sold out or someone makes knock offs.

2. Eyeglasses - This is more of a necessity than a fashion statement for him but he looks good on them anyway. it adds something special & it just adds to his charm.

3. Stuffed toys - Aaaahhhh! The ones he carries with him at airports. Who can forget? He even accepts ones given by fans and carries it with him. He stopped doing this in 2019 onwards but it’s still nice to reminisce.

4. Bags - Men usually don’t pay that much attention to bags. Just one or two that they use regularly, but it’s different for Xiao Zhan. In one interview, he said that it’s a good accessory. from backpacks, slings and really small ones— he uses it. The Tod’s bag from his shanghai vlog? Sold out so quick.

5. Red bracelet - This one is actually not a fashion statement. GG started wearing this bracelet that his mom made for him in 2015. Since it was his year, he was told to wear it and so he followed. We know how superstitious he is and so it’s not a surprise to see him wear something that is supposed to keep bad things away. This gained more attention to fans when he was seen wearing it in his appearance after the 2*7 fiasco. KXZ, a brand he endorses even popularized it by allowing fans to put red bracelets on his standees in stores. To this day, you can still see him wearing it in his personal time.

TOP BRANDS HE LOVES THE MOST.

1. Gucci - The real leader of the Gucci Gang. If he wears something, the first thing that comes to mind is Gucci. No matter how generic it is, like some baggy jeans or simple shirt— it’s gotta be Gucci. both as a personal preference and what he wears in events. Gucci even invited him for their 2019 fashion week.

2. Balenciaga - I am adding it here because of his iconic balenciaga cap. He wears it frequently and has been associated with it.

3. Nike - I mean, who doesn’t love Nike. Especially Air Jordans. He’s been seen wearing the same pairs multiple times. In 2019, he was even seen wearing a pair of that much coveted paranoise shoes.

4. Off white - Is a streetwear brand is based in Milan. The name of the brand is defined as the grey colour zone in between black and white. They collaborated with a lot of other brands & cater more to the millennial generation. Xiao Zhan has been seen wearing this brand frequently.

5. Stussy - is a brand that started from the surf scene in California. They have a store opened in Shanghai and has a special collection dedicated to it. Xiao Zhan has been seen wearing it since 2016 at the earliest during his off time.

That’s it for Xiao Zhan. I would like to add that it’s really exciting to see what he will wear next, especially in events. In his track record, he prefers Gucci, Dior, Yves Saint Laurent and Balmain.<3

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust  / 3

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---

ch 3 | first impressions

    Please, sit,” the man offered. His voice was back to the way it was before, quiet, gentle and solemn. You obeyed, sitting gingerly on the edge of one of the wooden seats. “May I have your name?”

    “Hansi, sir.” Quickly, you add, “though sir can call me whatever sir likes.”

    “Hansi,” he murmured. In his lips, your name — something that’s been baggage all your life, a reminder of the woman who threw you away — sounded like divinity. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

    Okay. The meeting was not going at all how you expected. But then again, it was what you figured: honorable in public, but behind closed doors—

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you nodded.

    “Would you like some tea?” He gestured to the other cup in the middle of the table. It was filled with a faint, golden liquid. “Please, help yourself. It’s Pu’Er.”

    You only froze for a second. Sure, you’d play along. You thanked him, reaching for the cup. It burned your fingers through the porcelain, but Archons be damned if you were going to drop and break it. You took a small sip. It scorched your parched throat all the way down.

    “How is it?”

    “It’s good, sir—“

    “Zhongli,” he reminded you gently.

    “It’s good, Mr. Zhongli.” It was not a lie — you wouldn’t be able to tell good tea from boiled grass, but the cup you just downed warmed your stomach and soothed your frayed nerves.

    “I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, and suddenly — too late — you realized that maybe you shouldn’t have drunk something that you hadn’t watched this strange man prepare. You knew of the drugs that these men sometimes slipped into the food they gave to street rats like you, you’d seen many a woman and child stolen away because of it.

    You cursed yourself — what had happened to keeping your guard up? Was a soothing voice and pretty face all it took to earn your trust these days?

    You stiffened as he raised a gloved hand. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you certainly were not expecting him to launch into a monologue about the history of Pu’Er tea.

    He did, anyway, losing you somewhere between “harvested from the caves of Ling’ju Pass” and “aged delicately for fifteen years”. To say that his behavior had transcended bewildering was an understatement. Was this some kind of setup? A sick joke that rich people played on their new servants and slaves?

    You realized that he’d stopped talking, clearly awaiting a response.

    “Wow, aged for fifteen years. That’s a uh, long time,” you offered lamely. Archon help you.

    “It may seem so,” Zhongli mused, “but it’s precisely that fermentation process that gives the Pu’Er tea its signature flavor. Fifteen years is but a small price to pay for such a unique experience, don’t you think?”

    Briefly, you remembered all the trinkets and wallets and jewelry you’d stolen from passersby, how desperately you’d pawned them off at the nearest willing merchant for the promise of a meal or two.

    “Yes,” you agreed, even though you couldn’t begin to imagine being rich enough to wait fifteen years to sell something.

    It had been a few minutes since you’d drunk the first sip of tea, and you were still fine. Besides, he was drinking from the same pot. Maybe the tea was safe, after all. You took another sip, finishing your cup. Despite yourself, you found yourself hoping that Zhongli would continue talking in that silky voice of his, even if it was just about fermented tea leaves.

    “I do apologize for rambling the evening away. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your journey.” He continued, “If you’re finished with your tea, perhaps we should head home. We can talk tomorrow, once you’ve rested.”

    Home. You swallowed a dry retch, the implications stuck in your throat. Of course. It served you right for forgetting what you were here for. Behind closed doors—

    “Yes. We can go if that’s what pleases you, Mr. Zhongli.” Your voice broke twice in that sentence. If Zhongli noticed, he did not say anything about it.

    He rose from his seat, and suddenly you realized just how tall, how solid he was. If you ran, he would catch you. If you fought back—

    Sweeping by you, he opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing into the night air. “After you.”

---

    You trailed a few feet behind him as you two walked through the quiet, twisting alleys of Liyue. You thought you knew the city well enough, having lived on its streets for as long as you had, but he seemed to know the back roads of the city like it were an extension of his own body.

    You took a deep breath to calm yourself. He left behind a faint lingering scent of flowers — like the glaze lilies you’d stolen from Yujing Terrace to pawn, but mostly, he smelled of warmth — earthy, spices, the fresh spring grass.

    Seeing Zhongli in all his standing glory made you suddenly and horribly aware of how unsightly you were in comparison. You’d been cleaned up before the escort, but there were still yellowing bruises that the damp cloth couldn’t erase, chewed fingernails and frayed hair and rib bones that jut out from under pallid skin. And while the dress you were wearing was the nicest thing you’d ever owned, it was but rags in comparison to the elegant outfit Zhongli was clad in.

    Your gaze stopped at his waist, and the golden gem dangling at his belt.

    “Is that a Vision?” you blurted, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask about you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    “Please, never apologize for speaking your mind,” Zhongli answered, without missing a stride. “And to answer your question, yes. A Geo Vision.”

    The one at your chest is still warm against your skin. “That’s amazing,” you say, and you meant it. Vision users were powerful people capable of unbelievable feats — even raised on the streets, you knew that. You wondered how Zhongli got his Vision: a fight, perhaps, against the ferocious monsters that roamed the wilderness outside Liyue Harbor?

    If Zhongli had a Vision, there was no longer any doubt about it: the Vision given to you was a mistake. How could you ever hope to compare to someone like him? “You must be an incredible person, if Rex Lapis himself acknowledged you.”

    Zhongli did take pause at that, peering at you with a strange look in his eyes. A small smile danced across his lips. “That is one way to think of it,” he acknowledged, as he continued walking. “It has been said that Rex Lapis only grants Visions to those he deems the most worthy.”

    The rest of the trek was silent, until he stopped walking so suddenly that you almost bumped into him. You looked up from the ground, and found your breath taken away by the sculpture before you. It was a statue of Rex Lapis — there were plenty around Liyue, but tonight, silver stone gleaming under a sky full of stars, he looked ethereal.

    “This was cast by the first generation of Hanfeng Ironmongers, long before mankind mastered the properties of flame and the forge,” Zhongli said, citing the name of the most famous clan of blacksmiths in Liyue Harbor. “Each time I pass it, I like to take a moment to stop and admire it. It’s a beautiful statue.”

    “Beautiful,” you echoed absently, “he’s beautiful.” This was the Archon who had saved your life with that Vision, whether he’d meant to or not. You offered a silent prayer — of unyielding gratitude, for forgiveness, and for mercy. When you opened your eyes, Zhongli was eyeing you with a strange look on his face.

    “I would ask you what you prayed for,” he chuckles, “but some superstitious folk would say then that your prayers won’t come true. Shall we continue? We are almost home.”

---

    After ten more minutes of walking, you could feel your ankles trembling under the weight of your body. You and Zhongli had left Liyue, and begun walking through the forests on the outskirts of the city. Finally, he came to a stop in front of a house tucked into the foliage of a valley. It was a sizable estate, with a walled back garden and two floors, but you were mildly surprised that he hadn’t brought you to a castle, at this point.

    Zhongli unlocked the door and gestured, again, for you to go ahead. Your stomach in knots, you took your first step into your new home — and prison.

    It was warm.

    Embers crackled in the fireplace of the living room, casting a faint golden glow on the tasteful, lavish furniture that lined the floor. There were tapestry scrolls on either side of the fireplace here too. You don’t understand the poetry written on these ones, either.

    “Welcome to my home,” Zhongli said, walking past you. He did not touch you. “We have much to discuss, but that can wait until tomorrow. You look like you’re on the brink of collapse, and we can’t have you getting sick from exhaustion.” Despite yourself, you feel a small twinge of something at that — you’d never, in your life, had someone care about your health. He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of a sick servant, you told yourself.

    “Let us go to bed and have a good night’s sleep first,” Zhongli continued, and anything you’d felt quickly soured.

    Bed. You swallowed the panic rising bright and hot in your lungs. You might not be as educated as he surely was, but you were not naive. You knew that sleep was not what you would be getting tonight. The plea got stuck on your tongue. What could you say, to stop this rich, powerful man from claiming what was his?

    “Let me show you to your room.” He beckoned at you to follow as he strode down a long hallway. You blinked, too stunned to obey for a moment, before running after him.

    “My room?” You asked.

    “Yes.” He paused at the end of the hallway, opening one of the doors to reveal a cozy bedroom. Like everything else about Zhongli, it was tastefully decorated — lush, dark green curtains framing a circular window. A bed sat in the corner of the room, adorned with thick blankets and more pillows than you’d ever seen in your life.

    “This room was a study until very recently, and so these drawers are still currently full of my things,” Zhongli gestured to the bedside table, “but the closets are empty and free for you to use. I was thinking that we could go shopping for some clothes for you tomorrow, if you were feeling well enough. I do apologize for not purchasing any in advance, I was not sure of your measurements—“

    “Wait,” you said, afraid to let yourself hope. “Wait. We won’t be sharing a bed?”

    He turned to look at you, surprise briefly flashing in his eyes, and you’d never wanted to take back a sentence so badly in your life. A palpable silence draped the room, as Zhongli studied you so intently that you thought you might fall over dead, right then and there.

    “Truthfully tell me,” he said, voice as low as a hum. “Is that what you would want?”

    It took all of your courage to shake your head.

    “Then we will have our separate rooms,” Zhongli said, with an air of decisive finality, and continued like he hadn’t just shaken your world. “I will show you around the house tomorrow. There is water in the jug by your bed. Is there anything you might need for the night?”

    You shake your head mutely, again.

    “Very well. My room is right across the hall — please do not hesitate to shout if you need anything.” Zhongli smiled, and it’s so beautiful that you had to shake the shivers from your spine. “Good night, Hansi.”

    There it was again, your name in his lips — divine.

    Zhongli closed the door gently behind him, and you sunk to your knees, all the strength suddenly gone from your body. You’d survived the first evening with your new master. You’d survived.

    Once you picked yourself back up, you peeled your Geo Vision out from under the dress, taking your first look at it under the proper light of an oil lamp. It’s unframed, of course, unlike Zhongli’s, but the golden gemstone was identical in all other ways — catching the light in all its facets with a dazzling shimmer. When you put it into the bedside drawer, shoving it under the piles of scrolls and parchments, you were surprised to feel a twinge of sadness.

    Stupid. How could you miss something that was not rightfully yours?

    Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited as you clambered into the bed — your first very bed! Sinking into the sheets (they smelled heavenly), you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of contentment.

    There was a little voice in the back of your head screaming — and part of you still knew, irrefutably, that you can’t trust Zhongli — but the call of sleep is much, much louder. You let your heavy lids fall shut, and quickly fell into the most comfortable slumber of your life.

[oreoambitions]

Part 7 of 9

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Ao3 

Lena handles the bouquet like it’s a talisman, like these sprigs of white mountain flowers might shield her from the inevitability of Kara’s decision. She stands on the porch feeling suddenly inadequate in the clothes Sam picked out for her: red button down, red converse, black slacks, black blazer, hair plaited. She should have gone for something dazzling, something that shows off her body, something that implies sex and grace and power. But Sam said, "Something comfortable, classy, and red. Let’s go for something understated. A Kryptonian wedding is not about the dress."

Lena has long been accustomed to wearing dresses like armor, and so she feels naked now under Kara's gaze, the bouquet her only protection. Sam's done her best to prepare her for this moment. She knows that if Kara means to go through with the wedding she will remain silent until the vows. She knows that if Kara means to break from the plan she can end as easily as greeting Lena when she returns from her contemplation in the woods. And perhaps that would be for the best, but there is a preemptive feeling of loss and grief in Lena's chest that has nothing to do with the fear of what might happen to her if she gets caught out for lying under oath.

So when Kara approaches the porch, brow furrowed, and opens her mouth to speak, Lena rushes forward and presses the flowers into her hands.

"I gathered these for you," she says, stumbling over the last porch step in her urgency. "Before dawn. I couldn't find red, but..."

Kara's expression softens. She spends a long moment admiring the flowers, and longer still studying Lena. Then she looks up to where Clark is standing by the kitchen door, watching, and she nods just once.

There will be a wedding today after all.

They stand in a circle in the woods behind the cabin, all seven of them: Kara and Lena to be married, Clark to marry them, Alex, Nia and Sam to witness, and, ostensibly, Rao to bless the union. Lena doesn't miss the way Kara's eyes keep drifting to that empty space in the circle, to the sky, to her own feet, to the flowers carried by Alex now so that Kara will have both of her hands free for the ceremony.

"Are you ready?" Sam whispers in Lena's ear.

No. "Yeah," she breathes. "Anything else I should know?"

Sam makes a noncommittal gesture. "I really hope not."

How reassuring. And then Clark is clearing his throat, and Sam is taking her place again with a guilty expression, and Alex is nodding slowly to Kara as if to say this is going to be okay, and Lena is cursing every Krpytonian who ever said there had to be silence between communion with Rao and the offering of the vows because all she wants on this whole Earth is to ask Kara if she's sure. She settles for flashing Kara a shy smile. Kara smiles back weakly, and Lena's stomach twists as the ceremony begins.

Clark speaks slowly and clearly, his voice even though his hands tremble. The ceremony is in Krpytonian, and so Lena understands only a word or two here and there but she tries to listen anyway, tries to feel the gravity of the moment. She wonders idly whether Sam or Kara have told Alex and Nia what to expect. Clark has gone over this with Lena in exhaustive detail, and so she recognizes the steps: the summoning of Rao, the official announcement of Clark's intention to bind Kara and Lena, the blessing of the witnesses. There is no opportunity given for an objection; only Rao or the couple themselves may put a stop to this now.

And then there is the exchanging of the bracelets. Lena silently wills her body to stop shaking as Kara approaches, shy and soft in the morning light, holding out a band of braided metal. This is the first of two opportunities to back out: Lena can reject Kara's gift here and now in front of everyone and call the whole thing off. But she is still as Kara meets her eyes, as she fits the bracelet to Lena's left wrist with a silent reverence that raises the hair on the back of Lena's neck. And Kara is still in turn when Lena offers her the bracelet Sam has helped her to acquire: a simple thing, slim and flat so that Kara can hide it under her watch at work if she should wish to.

Clark is moving on, but Lena is caught in that moment, her eyes lingering on a promise made physical, a band across Kara's skin that marks her as Lena's and Lena's only, and she almost misses the transition into the binding. Almost. And then Kara is smiling at her, laughter in her eyes though she remains silent still, the fingers of her right hand weaving through Lena's left. Clark fastens a single thread to Kara's wedding bracelet and then he waits.

There is a silence over the woods so profound that Lena wonders whether all the world is holding its breath. Kara's lips part, but for a long moment she doesn't speak, her eyes darting back and forth between Lena's as though she's still deciding. This is the second and last opportunity to back out: Kara could refuse to say the vows.

But the words that fall from her lips are familiar to Lena, ancient and well worn, melodic in Kara's first language. Clark wraps the thread around their wrists as Kara speaks. To you I make this promise, my love, before Rao that it may be the truth this day and all days to follow. From the moment of this binding your needs will be as my needs, your blood my blood, the desires of your heart my desires too. We are to be no longer two strangers on the road, but one traveler bound to a common destination and a common cause. This in Rao's light I freely swear to you.

Lena wants to look to Sam for reassurance but she feels caught in Kara's eyes. Clark's hands have paused in their work, three and a half turns around, and Lena knows she's supposed to speak now. Sam's words echo in the back of her mind, reminding her that she can always give the vows in English if she's afraid, and she is afraid afraid afraid, but not afraid enough to let Kara commit to this alone. She licks her lips and swallows. Kara's eyes dart down to her mouth for a split second, and Lena is suddenly aware of how close they are.

"To you I make this promise," she begins, Kryptonian words a little more awkward in her mouth than in Kara's.

Kara's eyes go wide as Lena speaks, a gasp slipping unbidden from her lips. Lena can see the tears gathering, can feel Kara trembling, and enough doubt creeps into her mind that she very nearly trips over her own tongue. But Lena didn't survive a Luthor upbringing for nothing; she's not about to let doubt interrupt a well prepared speech. Clark finishes as Lena does, seven turns of the thread around their hands, and fastens the end to Lena's wedding band.

"In Rao's light, so may it be," he intones.

Sam has gone over this particular moment with Lena a couple of times, double and triple checking that she’s emotionally prepared, because on Krpyton as on Earth the vows are sealed with a kiss. And Lena is expecting something chaste, something simple and symbolic. Nothing has prepared her for Kara to step suddenly into her space with a dark expression and tears in her eyes. Nothing has prepared her for Kara's unbound hand tangling in her hair, holding her still as Kara hovers devastatingly close, her nose just brushing Lena's, her breath unnaturally ragged for a being who could break the very Earth apart with her hands should she choose to.

The kiss is, if not chaste, respectful. It's slow and deliberate and Kara doesn't pull back so quickly that Lena doesn't have time to put her own unbound hand on Kara's waist, to kiss Kara back, to feel the barest brush of Kara's tongue against her own before they part.

"In Rao's light, so it is done," Clark says.

And so it is. Lena doesn’t want to move, lost still in Kara’s eyes. All that's left now is to survive the relentless teasing of their witnesses until sundown, whereupon the thread binding them symbolically together can be undone and they can return to their lives. Lena will go home to L-Corp and await the inevitable legal complications against which this marriage is intended to protect her. Kara will return to her dual life as CatCo’s star journalist and Earth's bright eyed champion. They'll have lunches and movie nights and never speak of this outside of the public appearances they'll have to make once in a while for credibility's sake. And that, Lena tells herself, swallowing down the lump that has suddenly appeared in her throat, will have to be enough.

But Kara leans forward, lips brushing against her ear, to whisper in Krpytonian words that are not unfamiliar to Lena after these past few days with Sam. "I'm sorry, my love," she says. And then, to Lena's horror, she pulls away. Not just out of Lena's personal space, but away from Lena altogether, snapping the thread that binds them as she goes. And it's just a symbol, doesn't impact the validity of the marriage, but Sam has warned Lena in advance that breaking the thread before sundown is considered a dark omen or, in some cases, a curse. Lena isn't superstitious, but something in her sickens as Kara stalks across the circle to stand face to face with Sam, a little too close, her eyes faintly aglow, her right hand clenched.

"It was you," Kara says. There's no question in her tone. "You taught her the vows."

Sam meets Kara's eyes, unflinching, her expression impassive.

"You had no right," Kara hisses.

"I had every right," Sam replies.

Kara reaches out and for one terrifying moment Lena thinks she might strike Sam, but all she does is rest a hand against Sam's chest as if she's going to shove her, as if there's going to be a fight right here in the middle of what should be, if not a beautiful moment, at least a moment of relief.

And then Kara turns and walks away back into the woods without another word, and Lena feels as though her legs are going to give out beneath her.

[lostinthosebrowneyes]

Pedro Character HCs | Do they believe in ghosts?

Din Djarin

Agnostic would be the best word for Din. He’s about 50/50 skepticism and “well this might as well happen”. His son is a wizard, he’s not about to discount anything. That said, as much as he’d like to see his parents again, he’s not too convinced about the idea of ghosts... At least, not until Luke ever introduces him to his dad and mentors, then Din might start reevaluating some things.

BONUS (Aliens): His son is a little green man from outer space, so... yeah. I think we can safely say he believes in aliens.

Ezra

Ezra is one of those people who will play up believing in ghosts for the entertainment factor but he is a complete skeptic in reality. He tells a great ghost story, sometimes he even manages to fool himself with the noises he’s heard on alien planets, but at the end of the day the dead are just meat. He’d know if it were otherwise; he has accumulated multiple reasons to be haunted over the years.

BONUS (Aliens): Aliens as in a super-intelligent race that abducts and experiments on people, whose existence has never been proven? No. Aliens as in local fauna on alien planets? Sure, he bears witness to those nettlesome little critters all the time.

Frankie Morales

Frankie has seen far too much to be scared of the noncorporeal. He had a healthy sense of fear of the unknown as a kid but after he came back from combat, it all changed. Just because he’s a skeptic doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the thrill. Strangely, supernatural horror almost became... comforting? Nostalgic? Like he missed when the worst thing he saw was bad SFX and somebody floating on strings. It’s not a real danger and that makes it a “safe” scare, like a roller coaster or some other adrenaline high. He loves haunted houses, especially if he goes with Benny who is secretly a believer in the supernatural ever since a young Will fooled him into thinking their attic was haunted.

BONUS (Aliens, Cryptids): I think Frankie is less committal about his feelings on aliens and cryptids. Aliens in the “it’s a big universe, who knows” kind of way, when he’s out camping and gazing at the vastness of the stars above him. Cryptids in the “look, most of it is guys in suits but my cousin’s best friend’s dog was supposedly eaten by a chupacabra” kind of way.

Javier Peña

Javier will never admit to believing in the supernatural. He has seen a lot of bodies and he’s never been haunted -- not supernaturally, anyway. He has superstitious family members so he won’t speak ill of ghosts, but it’s not his personal belief. He’s witnessed a lot of pain and death and he understands the need for the coping mechanism, but that’s all it is. At least, that’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

BONUS (Demons): The thing is, Javi has seen a lot of things over his career. He has seen evil in the hearts of men too many times to deny the concept of it. Javier will tell you to your face that he doesn’t believe in demons, but that doesn’t mean he’s going anywhere near that famous site of a demonic possession. It’s not because he’s scared, it’s because it’s a waste of time. And it’s late. And he has better things to do. Like you. Let’s get home. (Get in the fucking car and let’s gooooo.)

Marcus Moreno

Marcus Moreno isn’t a skeptic, he just doesn’t believe in ghosts. He and Missy would have heard something by now.

BONUS (Everything else): I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Marcus has fought a demon. If not, he still believes in them. He also believes in mermaids, aliens (hello!), extra-dimensional entities and Bigfoot. Marcus will believe anything until proven false, including but not limited to The Loch Ness Monster. You say they’ve checked the loch top to bottom with cameras and found nothing? Maybe Nessie just can’t be captured by cameras. Marcus is friends with someone named Sharkboy. There are no limits.

Marcus Pike

As I said here, Marcus Pike believes in ghosts. Marcus had ~an experience~ in his college days after he and some friends spent the night in a haunted house on a dare. Ever since he has been convinced there is some form of life after death, even if he doesn’t subscribe to a specific theory of how it all works. He’s not particularly vocal about it, but if you try to make fun of people who believe in ghosts be prepared for him to make the case, “Well you know just because science hasn’t proven it yet-”. In general he’s more into the idea of gentle hauntings than your malevolent poltergeist situation. Ghosts who hold on after death to comfort their loved ones are the kinds of ghost stories that he’s really into.

BONUS (Aliens): As for other supernatural beings, cryptids are all hoaxes and he doesn’t buy the idea of demonic possession. But like Frankie, he thinks it’s not impossible to imagine among all of those stars there might be other worlds with sentient life. Yeah, Marcus believes in aliens, too.

Maxwell Lord

Maxwell is like Marcus Moreno in that he’ll believe almost anything, but like Javier in that he will never admit it. He is incredibly easy to scare but after you get him he will refuse to acknowledge that it happened. If Alistair says he saw a ghost in his closet, Maxwell will not be going to check the closet and show his son everything is fine. He doesn’t want to see a ghost! Alistair can just sleep in his room tonight and they’ll sort it out in the morning. Of course he’ll be telling Alistair how silly he’s being the entire time because ghosts aren’t real obviously! (What was that sound???)

BONUS (Everything Else): Demons, aliens, that’s just another Monday in the DCEU. Of course he believes in those. Magic and gods? Proven fact. Curses? He always keeps a good luck charm on him rather than tempt fate. Cryptids? Well, just because some of those photos have been debunked doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Maybe he should ask his acquaintances the daughter of Zeus and a literal cat lady.

[absideon-ephemeral]

III - INFORMANT

Warnings: mild language.

____________

This one is a bit short but worth it. 

METANOIA Master list

_________

     At that moment, I wish I didn't exist.

     The men parted ways, allowing the terrifying Commander through. His footsteps were heavy and threatening as he walked towards the General and me.

     "What's the issue General?" This was the first time I heard his modulated voice, and it was as scary as it was said to be.

     The General did little to show his disgust at being near the Commander, "This technician is working where a confidential meeting is to be held. Unfortunately, she has no other work to attend to and I don't want her just lying around being useless."

     The Commander stared at Hux for a moment then turned to me; the black holes of his mask once again boring into my soul.

     Taking a few more steps towards me, he raises his hand. I brace myself for any type of physical contact, not taking my eyes off of his helmet.

     "You are to stay and continue your work, but you are to not listen to a word said during this meeting," His modulated voice sent a chill down my spine.

     I wanted to reply, but I couldn't. My body was no longer under my control.

     "I will stay and continue my work. I will not listen to a word said during the meeting," I repeated his words against my will. It was like I could no longer control myself, and I just had to watch it all happen through my eyes.

     I turned and went back to work, lying on the floor and wedging myself back into the vent. Once again becoming oblivious to the world.

_____________

     I wasn't sure how long I had been working in the vent. My body was on autopilot the whole time. It could've been a few hours or thirty minutes when I re-emerged. The high-class men, General, and Commander were still sitting at the long meeting table, discussing something intelligible. Any word they said went through one ear and out the other.

     I got up off the ground and went to my tool bag, looking for the necessary items to begin fixing another wiring panel. As I rummaged through my bag, I got a glance at the holo map floating a few inches off the table. I froze; disobeying the hold over me. I knew exactly what that map was, but it wasn't right. I fought against the hold on my mind, eventually breaking it into millions of little pieces. Not knowing that my next words would determine my fate, I spoke.

     "That map is wrong."

     All heads turned towards me. The General's and Commander's stares were harsh.

     "Excuse me?" General Hux asked, his voice laced in venom.

     I gestured at the holo map, "That map is wrong."

     The General, who was standing by the holo controls, was ready to bash and possibly kill me for pointing something out. But before he could speak, someone else spoke.

     "Sit down General." The Commander ordered.

     "But sir, she isn't supposed to -"

     "Sit. Down. General,"

     Hux went and sat, not without a huff of frustration. The Commander bore into me.

     "How?" That was all he asked.

     "Well," I walked over to the controls, "while I have no clue as to what you all were talking about, I do know that this map is incorrect."

     The General scoffed, "How do you know if it's wrong if you don't even know what the map is?"

     "With all due respect, General, I know what this map is. It's a portion of the planet Adoni. A forested planet lush with greenery and an unlimited source of Iadrite. This is the area where one of the main cities is located. Everything on this map is accurate except for two things."

     I point to the eastern side of the city, "One, there should be a small village right where that forest is, and two," I point to the northern side of the mountain near the city, "right here should be the landing pad and entrance of an old abandoned Resistance base. It was up and running during the time of the Empire, but was abandoned shortly after the fall of the Death star."

     I pause; every person at the table is staring at me: some with indifference, surprise, and others (mainly the General) with murderous intent. Clearing my throat, I begin to type into the control panel.

     "That's how the map is wrong, sirs."

     "But that's impossible! We just received this map from the Senator of Adoni today!" The General exclaimed.

     I continued to type, "Well, the Senator, or whoever made the map, lied to you." With a few more clicks, the holo map disappears and is replaced by a similar one. "I was just able to hack into the geographical records of Adoni, speaking of which they need to up their firewalls, but this is what the map should truly look like."

     On the map, right as I said there would be, was a village to the east of the city and a landing dock to the north of the mountain.

     No one spoke. It was as if no one was breathing. They all just stared at me. The Commander, who had been extremely quiet the whole time, spoke.

     "And how do you know all this?" His voice was calm with a hint of interest.

     "I was born there sir. Lived there until I was five then went traveling and learning the galaxy with my father. If you don't believe me, sir, you can check my records."

      "How can we believe you? For all we know, your records may be a fake as well!" Hux accused.

     I was going to speak, going to defend myself, but the prickling sensation returned to my mind. The Commander. He was going through my brain again.

     "She tells the truth. Her mind shows no signs of lying." He states. Hux could do nothing but huff.

     I shift on my feet, "I'm sorry sirs, I've just realized my actions. My input wasn't needed, but whatever you are planning, I didn't want you all to walk into something and get ambushed due to false information.

     "Your insubordination will be punished, little technician. It was not your place to-" The General began but was cut off. He began to cough, clawing at his throat to breathe. He was suffocating. The Commander was now staring at him.

     After a few, agonizing seconds, the General was able to breathe again and the Commander looked to me.

     "Leave, all of you."

     Taking no chance, everyone stood up, hasty to leave. I bowed my head and too began to leave but was stopped.

     "Not you, little technician."

     I fully regret opening my mouth now, he's gonna kill me.

      "I won't kill you. Sit. We have a matter to discuss." 

     I cautiously make my way to a seat at the other end of the table, near the control panel. The seat is still warm when I sit, and the Commander's mask bores into my eyes.

     "You've shown a great deal of knowledge. Had you not pointed it out, my men would have surely walked into something. That being said, you mentioned traveling and studying the galaxy, yes?"

     "Yes sir."

     "Tell me about it."

     His words caught me off guard, "I'm sorry?"

     "Tell me about your travels." He leaned back in his chair.

     "Um, well, I lived on Adoni 'till I was five like I had said, then left and went to Ryloth. I was there for half a year, learned the language, culture, all that, then we picked up again and went to Mandalore. Then Shili, Pillo, Malastare, you name it. I studied every language, every culture, every aspect of that planet. The only planet I haven't been to is Mustafar."

     "Why not Mustafar?"

     "My father said that it was a haunted planet. Full of death and sadness. Told me that sometimes, the ghost of Padme Amidala could be heard; wailing for her husband and children, and would take revenge on any childbearing woman who stepped onto the planet."

     "Interesting. Wouldn't have taken you for someone superstitious.”

     "I'm not. My father was."

     The Commander let out something that sounded like a chuckle, but it was distorted by his helmet. "Why travel?"

     "My father wanted me to be educated on the galaxy. He hoped that one day I may become a royal translator or something. I just wanted to see the world and learn."

     The Commander took a moment to ponder. "Why did you stop?"

     "My father died when I was eighteen. We had just landed on Nevarro when he got sick. Passed a few days later. I had hardly any money, so when the recruitment ship for the first order showed up, it was my only option at the time, so I took it."

     "You could've joined the Resistance."

     "True, true. But the First Order didn't have a vendetta against me, so I went with it."

     "Interesting. What did you do?"

     I rubbed the back of my neck, "Uh, I would rather not talk about it. It's personal. But if you don't mind me asking sir, why the sudden interest in my past? What benefit can you get out of it?" 

     He hummed in acknowledgment, "Well, based on your knowledge and past, I have a proposition for you.

      "Yes, sir?"

     "Be my informant. My diplomatic ambassador. Translator. Your rank would be higher, you'd be in charge of diplomatic missions, treaties, alliances; you'd be the First Order's informant; bringing us more power through alliances and knowledge," he paused, "or you can stay a technician. Live your life fixing broken things; toiling away among metal and screws. The choice is yours."

     My thoughts are running. It's a tempting deal.

     This was what my father wanted me to be.

      But do I want this?

     "So, what will your answer be?" 

     I stayed silent. I didn't know what to say. This could all be some joke and I end up being his informant for a week and then I'm cast off to the side again. But hell, his offer sounded too good to pass up.

     "I don't have all day. What is your answer?"

     A beat of silence.

     "I'll do it."

[mst3kproject]

Countess Dracula

In Countess Dracula we have the tale of a lonely old woman who discovers that she can make herself young again, just so long as she doesn’t mind having to murder somebody to do it (she doesn’t).  Our antiheroine uses this newfound youth to seduce the least interesting man in the movie, until at last her misdeeds catch up with her when her latest victim turns out to have been the wrong demographic to make the magic work.

Does that sound familiar?  Yeah, this is a very Leech-Woman-y movie.  It stars Nigel Green, the news announcer from Gorgo, and comes to us from Hammer Studios, home of Moon Zero-Two.  The director, Peter Sasdy, never made anything that wound up on MST3K but he did work on the legendary Pia Zadora bomb, The Lonely Lady.  Countess Dracula is not a wild ride, as its pace is fairly sedate, but it is certainly a ride nonetheless.

The count of somewhere or other has just died, leaving his realm to his nineteen-year-old daughter Ilona – and technically also leaving his spiteful widow, Elizabeth, free to marry her longtime lover Captain Dobi.  Most people would consider this a perfectly acceptable retirement, but Elizabeth is impossible to satisfy.  She doesn’t want to grow old while Ilona (currently on her way home from finishing school in Vienna) rules the county and gets all the attention.  When Elizabeth discovers that bathing in the blood of virgins restores her youth, she embraces murder as a hobby and has Ilona locked up so she can stay in charge while posing as her own daughter!  In that guise she sets out to pursue handsome young Imre, the son of her husband’s most trusted general, while jealous Dobi can only sit and seethe.

I bet you think you can guess how this movie ends.  I bet you think Dobi tells Imre the countess’ secret, and the two of them defeat her.  Or else the real Ilona escapes and meets him, they expose Elizabeth as a fraud, and then get married and rule the land with justice and mercy or something.  That’s what would happen in a normal movie… but you guys know I don’t watch normal movies.  Maybe instead you’re guessing that nobody does shit and Elizabeth just carries on her merry way until she’d destroyed by her own hubris?  That’s more like it.

Not all of Hammer’s films were good, but they were generally pretty well-made and Countess Dracula is not an exception.  The elaborate costumes and sets are very nice, although areas like the town square are obviously artificial and the old lady makeup on Ingrid Pitt as Elizabeth is pretty bad.  There’s also a young woman made up in very ugly brownface as a ‘gypsy girl’, except they totally forgot to do any makeup on her for the scene where her naked corpse is discovered in the woods.

There are even a couple really well-done moments of storytelling and worldbuilding.  A scene in a pub, when everybody falls silent as Dobi and Imre enter, shows eloquently how terrified the peasants are of the aristocracy. Elizabeth gets some chilling bits when we see the true depth of her depravity.  She sees no difference between controlling people through love and controlling them through fear – either way, she gets what she wants, and their feelings don’t matter.  My favourite detail is the subtle cultural conflict going on in the background, as the characters speak disparagingly of ‘Turks’ and yet have clearly picked up some bits and pieces of Ottoman culture.

Although its plot outline is very similar to The Leech Woman, the philosophy of Countess Dracula is completely different.  The Leech Woman didn’t really give June a viable alternative to her poisoned fountain of youth.  Old women in its world can only sit around and drink and know that nobody loves them. Elizabeth, however, has a possible future – Dobi repeatedly notes that he’s been waiting twenty years for the opportunity to legitimatize his relationship with her.  He would have happily devoted himself to her for the rest of his life, and the two of them could have lived in retirement while Imre and Ilona gave them grandchildren to spoil.  Dobi even says there is dignity in age, directly contradicting The Leech Woman by applying it equally to both sexes.  June was more or less forced to become a monster, while Elizabeth chooses it explicitly.

So there’s honestly some pretty good stuff in this film.  Where it unfortunately falls on its face is with the characters, none of whom can really be said to have an arc, and the ending, which is rushed and unsatisfying.

The movie’s main focus is always on Elizabeth, but she refuses to grow or learn anything at any point.  She starts off as a nasty, selfish bitch and just stays a nasty, selfish bitch.  She has no actual master plan, but seems convinced that she can keep up this charade indefinitely, even though Dobi points out the impracticality of that.  Dobi believes she’s going mad, but the truth seems to be she’s just horrible.  She is evidently terrified of growing old, but that is never explored.  We see her react to aging, rather violently at times, but we never find out what the root of this fear is.

All this means that Elizabeth, despite being the focal character, is never sympathetic.  June in The Leech Woman at least started off as somebody we could pity, before she descended into depravity.  Elizabeth is a terrible person from the get-go, as illustrated in the very opening when she has her coachman run over a peasant who wants her to fulfill a promise her late husband made her.

Imre and Ilona are pretty much complete ciphers. Imre spends the entire movie in Elizabeth’s thrall one way or another.  He is madly in love with her in her guise as Ilona, and after finding out the truth he’s too scared of her to openly defy her.  The only personality trait he manifests is gullible foolishness, and any sympathy we might have had for him evaporates when he cheerfully kisses a barmaid’s tit on the same day when he’s proposed marriage to the woman he believes is his true love.  Ilona spends most of the movie locked up in some mute peasant’s hut doing not much. When she finally enters the story properly, she comes across as stunningly stupid.

The character who does the most to try to thwart Elizabeth is her lover Dobi, but he’s less interested in stopping her from killing virgins than he is in having her to himself.  He gets Imre drunk and tosses him in bed with the barmaid in the hope that Elizabeth will reject him, and later takes Imre to see Elizabeth bathing in blood to youthen herself.  These things don’t work, partly because Imre is an idiot and partly because Elizabeth is always more evil than he thought she was, but at least he tries.

At the end of the movie, Elizabeth’s latest bloodbath wears off in the middle of her wedding to Imre, and she runs off to murder Ilona in order to make herself young again.  Imre tries to stop her and gets stabbed for his trouble, which does at least expose Elizabeth’s evildoing to one and all, and she and Dobi are hanged. What happens to Ilona I’m not sure, but I know they didn’t have therapists in the seventeenth century.  Nobody wins here.  It’s a downer for everybody, including the superstitious peasants, who will continue to be terrified of their rulers now that their worst fears have been confirmed.

Several things might be made of the fact that it’s young women Elizabeth is killing.  It’s interesting to note that the idea of male virginity is never even brought up.  We could contrast two depictions of motherhood, in the form of Elizabeth’s jealousy of Ilona versus Juli the nurse’s unconditional love for her.  There’s Imre’s description of ‘Ilona’ as embodying all aspects of womanhood, to which Dobi replies that no woman can be maiden, mother, and whore all at once… yet that is just what Elizabeth is trying to be.  What I find interesting in this, however, is how the movie depicts Elizabeth’s own internalized misogyny, in the fucked-up attitudes she displays towards youth, beauty, and gender.

Elizabeth feels that age and experience have made her undesirable.  Dobi assures her that he finds her as attractive as he ever did, but she evidently does not believe him, and her mistreatment of her female servants has a definite note of jealousy in it.  She kills young virgins not only to gain their desirability, but because she hates them for what they have and she does not.

What’s unusual is that she applies this same attitude towards the men in her life.  Elizabeth is no longer attracted to Dobi, because he is old and experienced. Their affair has gone on for years, and in Dobi’s mind this has only deepened his love for her – but Elizabeth is tired of it and wants something new.  Imre is young, handsome, and innocent.  He has no wealth of his own and has not yet really accomplished much in life, but Elizabeth doesn’t care.  If all she has to be is young and pretty, then how could she ask anything more of him?

Here, Dobi and Elizabeth represent two different versions of gender equality as it applies to sexual attractiveness, with him raising Elizabeth to his level, and her lowering Dobi and Imre to hers!  Elizabeth treating the men in her life as she has been treated illustrates the inequality quite sharply, but what ultimately destroys her is applying the same standards to herself.  She believes so totally that nothing else matters as long as she is beautiful that she doesn’t care what she has to do to accomplish it, or who sees her do it.  In the end, she is undone by her own self-loathing.

[random-thought-depository]

The infamously corny Star Trek TOS episode The Omega Glory was on TV last night and I watched it. My ideas for how I’d rewrite it to make it less silly:

---

The Yang ancestral culture wasn’t literally the USA, it was just a society that looked kind-of sort-of like the USA in the same way some pre-Columbian American and ancient Indian societies may have looked kind-of sort-of like ancient Athens. That by itself would make the episode much less stupid, and you could keep most of the same basic ideas.

Since we’re not bound to absurd levels of parallelism anymore, I’d personally be inclined to make the Kohms light-skinned blue-eyed blond(e)s and make the Yangs darker-skinned with darker hair and eyes, and imply that the Kohm ancestral society was fascist instead of communist. Maybe sprinkle some symbols distantly reminiscent of Nazi iconography around the Kohm village. It’s not like there was any meaningful connection between the Kohms and communism anyway, and I feel this resonates better with a lot of the ideas the episode was going for. Admittedly, this is probably influenced by my own biases.

---

Basically swap the roles of Cloud Williams and his mostly silent female companion who doesn’t really do much.

Why? Let’s think about how Yang society might work for a moment. I’m going to say they’re horse-riding big game hunters, like the nineteenth century Great Plains native American cultures on Earth, because 1) that fits with the idea that they’ve been driven into marginal lands and had to become nomads, 2) if you want nomads capable of assembling armies of thousands of people it’s either that or Eurasian-style herders, 3) it fits with the “they’ve become like native Americans” idea. They’re very slow-aging, theoretically capable of living over a thousand years ... but if they’re like their precedent cultures on Earth they probably live fairly rough and dangerous lives and I think would probably tend to live only a few decades or centuries before dying in a hunting accident or battle or something like that. But... going by Earth precedent, it would probably be mostly the men who do the most high-risk activities of hunting and war, which might result in very gender-asymmetrical life expectancy patterns, where men tend to only live a few decades or centuries while women stay relatively safe and have a decent chance of living to be thousand year old ancients. This would be compounded by 1) a lower death rate would mean a lower birth rate for replacement rate reproduction, 2) they’re almost immune to infectious diseases, which would make childbirth in primitive conditions much safer, so that would greatly reduce the probable primary cause of death for women in such a society (childbirth complications). So I think it’s pretty plausible that they’d have a more-or-less matriarchal society where women have a lot of power because they live a lot longer and hence have a lot more time to accumulate experience and become repositories of culture (important for a low-tech nomadic society that will have a mostly oral culture!).

So, I’d gender-swap Cloud Williams; my version of her would a matriarch with a leadership position in her tribe because she’s one of its oldest able-bodied members, she’s got a thousand years of experience and she’s had time to memorize a lot of the oral histories of her tribe and become basically a living library. Why would such a person be anywhere near a battlefield? Well, “the oral histories of her tribe” would include a lot of war stories, with detailed and often basically accurate descriptions of tactics and strategy because that’s how knowledge of how to win wars against Kohms and rival Yang tribes is transmitted in her society. She’s a living tactical manual, so of course she leads her tribe’s warriors in battle.

She could have a companion who’s a big guy who doesn’t talk much and does the brute strength side of what in the episode is Cloud Williams’s role (fighting Kirk in the cell, ripping out the bars). Maybe he’s her grandson, and was captured with her because one of his roles in the tribe is to be her bodyguard in battle.

----

Related to what I just said, have a bit where Captain Tracey says that he expected the primitive and superstitious Yangs to be overawed by phasers, but instead it was almost like they have a recent cultural memory of war with modern weapons and war against technologically superior opponents and they quickly started using effective counter tactics. Given the explanation in the episode for the long lifespans of people on Omega IV (very strong selection pressure for disease resistance), none of the Yangs would actually remember the ancient high-tech Yang civilization and original war against the Kohms, but the generational transmission chains from a lot of presently living Yang matriarchs to that time might be relatively short. For a lot of the presently living Yang matriarchs shooting down Kohm helicopters with surface-to-air missiles and ambushing Kohm armored columns in mountain passes might be something like “my grandma’s time.”

----

The reason the “Eee Plab Neesta” sounds like gibberish is that Cloud Williams is reciting it in its archaic original language, which the living Yang language has evolved into mutual incomprehensibility with. The Yangs might have one lovingly preserved paper copy of their equivalent of the Declaration of Independence, but their culture is mostly oral, and they mostly preserve the “holy words” in the heads of the matriarchs, who memorize it and transmit it from mother to daughter exactly (“by heart”), being careful to get every syllable right so it does not become distorted. The oldest matriarchs can still speak the ancient language, but for most of the Yangs, especially the relatively short-lived men, it’s like me listening to somebody recite Beowulf in its original language.

This is more-or-less my headcanon for what’s going in the actual episode too: the “Eee Plab Neesta” is just the text in its original now archaic form of the Yang language, which the universal translator can’t translate because it doesn’t have a big enough sample to work on. I’d make that much more explicit though.

The way I’d handle the scene is to have Cloud Williams start to recite the Eee Plan Neesta, and then have Kirk ask her what it means and suggest that she try to translate it into the everyday language of the Yangs so all her people could hear it with understanding, and of course it wouldn’t be the actual Declaration of Independence but something different but with a similar spirit, something like this:

“We the people of these five colonies of the nation across the sea and seven nations of the original inhabitants of this land, establish a Union, which we found in and organize according to the following principles: that all people are equally precious, that laws exist by the consent of the people and to serve the people, that leaders serve the people and hold their offices by the consent of the people...”

Then have Kirk give his speech about how these words are meant for everyone and not just for chiefs and should be something shared among all the people and lived by and not something gatekept behind archaic language most people can’t understand. Have him reference the USA founding documents by saying that his world has something very similar and he knows from the history of his own world how world-changing these ideas can be and how precious they are.

----

Obviously you can’t do that “the Yangs try to find out if Kirk recognizes the holy words, and Kirk almost recognizes them but not quite” thing with this version, so the equivalent I propose is:

Kirk recognizes the original functions of Yang “holy relics,” i.e. relics from the ancient Yang civilization: one is part of a machine that once carried people through the air (it’s a snapped-off piece of a helicopter blade), one was a device for seeing far away things as if they’re near (it’s a broken pair of binoculars), one was a machine which people could use to talk to people who were beyond the horizon (it’s a broken-down cell phone), etc.. OK, the last thing is anachronistic for TOS, but if I were writing this as a fanfic it’s what I’d do.

Cloud Williams starts to recite a long epic poem the Yangs have that tells their entire history, to see if Kirk will recognize it. Of course Kirk doesn’t, but while the Yangs don’t have history books they do use visual textile art as an aid to memory and they’ve set up a big story cloth that depicts the narrative in the room and Kirk goes over to it and starts pointing to pictures on it and correctly interpreting them:

“Here, the Yangs were oppressed by kings. The Yangs rebelled and overthrew their kings and made a new nation that had no kings. After this the Yangs became very rich and very powerful, they built great cities. The lords of the Kohms were threatened by this and they used terrible weapons on the Yangs and invaded the Yang land with great armies. Here’s a Yang city being destroyed in an instant by a Kohm weapon. The Kohm lords were so threatened that they tried to destroy the Yangs’ whole way of life. The Yangs retreated to the bad lands and kept fighting. Here are Kohm flying machines attacking a Yang village, and a Yang warrior hiding behind a rock destroying one of those flying machines with a lance of fire. The Kohm lords couldn’t overcome the Yangs until they brought the Death Thirst to the Yang lands in a box and let it out. But that weapon had a life of its own, and turned against the Kohms, and almost destroyed them too. Only a few Yangs survived in the bad lands, and the Kohms claimed the good Yang lands and settled them. But the Yangs survived, they learned the bow and the lance, and eventually their numbers started to increase. The survivors lived longer than people had before; you interpreted this as a gift for the Yangs and curse on the Kohms by the Great Spirit, so that both might live to see you retake what was once yours. And little by little, you did retake what was once yours...”

----

One way to suggest the Enterprise crew making a positive difference on Omega IV at the end of the episode: have Kirk convince the Yangs to spare the Kohm civilians in that village.

The victorious Yangs are all set to give the last Kohms the Numbers 31 treatment, which is what they usually do when they overrun a Kohm community. Of course, Kirk is horrified by this, and he manages to use arguments involving the Yang “holy words” to convince the Yangs to be merciful instead. “Your own holy words say that every person is equally precious! Every person! That includes the Kohms too! If you really mean it, it includes the Kohms too! They’re no threat to you anymore! Did you fight for so long just for a chance to do to them what they tried to do to you? If so, how are you any better than them? Your own holy words claim to be for all people! Your own holy words say that all people are more alike than they are different, and all people are capable of appreciating the gift of freedom! If that’s true, then your holy words are for the Kohms too! That’s why the Kohm lords were so threatened by you, because they were afraid of what would happen if the Kohm people heard those powerful, good words! Tell the Kohms about your holy words!”

So Cloud Williams agrees to make a merciful and peaceful settlement with the “last of the Kohm places,” let it integrate peacefully into Yang society with no further bloodshed and no abuse inflicted or spoils taken. And then Kirk says “If you mean your words of freedom, your work didn’t end today, it’s just starting. Build good seaworthy boats that can cross the ocean, and send people to the Kohms across the sea, so they can hear your words of freedom too! The words of your ancestors are for them too! You’d never be able to conquer them, but they can hear your words!”

[hockeyblogg]

you’re all I want - f.andersen

a/n: bringing this back, one of my first Freddie writings that was totally inspired by this picture and the all stars in general. sorry that I haven’t written anything in a long while, I always get super busy for some reason, but hope you enjoy this one !!

warnings: insecure freddie.

You sat on the bench, looking up and watching as Freddie taped his stick.

He had asked if you wanted to attend the NHL All Star weekend and of course you weren’t going to turn him down, but what you hadn’t expected was for him to keep you at his side the entire time. When he was doing media; he had asked if you could stay behind the scenes, when he was meeting with all the other players; he was introducing you to them as well, and now when he finally got to the locker room where everyone was preparing for the skills competition; he asked if you could stay with him until it was time to get dressed. 

You didn’t want to seem like the clingy girlfriend and also be the only girlfriend in the room, so you were about to turn it down and tell Fred that you could just go find his family and sit down with them as you waited, but after seeing a couple of other wives and girls go in, you decided to stay with Freddie.

And you’re kind of glad for that decision.

You watched as he bit his lip in concentration, his eyes focused solely on his stick. You took this time to take him all in; the way the hair on his face was slightly scruffy, his moustache shorter than his beard. You looked at his eyebrows and how they were scrunched together, causing the wrinkle in his forehead to cease more.

You watched his hands and how they worked, how much more bigger they were compared to yours but let’s be honest; everything about this man was much more bigger than you, and you smile at the fact that he’s yours.

Those thoughts don’t last long though, you’re knocked out of them by the calling of your name, and considering you only know two other people in this locker room, you know it’s either Mitch or Auston.

You turn your head and when you catch Mitch’s stare, he’s smiling and waving you over, “C’mere a sec!” You look back at Freddie and he softly smiles, gesturing to his teammate, “Go on then elskede.” Standing up, you walk up to the two boys, “What’s up?”

“Figured you were a little bored, you wanna help me tape my stick?” You merely nod and he hands you the piece of wood, “Just hold it there while I do the top...”

You watched carefully as he taped the top of his stick and you noticed that it was different from the way Fred does his, “Are all sticks different?” you find yourself asking, and Mitch raises his brow, “like taping?” he nods and bites off the end, smoothing it down with his thumb.

“I mean, some are the same way, like the top part, but most of the bottoms are different, especially with goalies, since their sticks are bigger and thicker.” You nod along at his words, “are players picky about their sticks, or is it any way every game?” he flips his stick and leans on it, “well, some players are really suspicious and try to get it right every time, but others; like myself, it doesn’t really matter.”

“here, you try.” he hands you the tape this time, and you shake your head, “No no, I don’t want to mess your stick up.” Mitch simply laughs, “Like I said Y/N, I'm not too picky, go ahead.” You hesitantly took the tape from his hands and he slowly shows you how to do it.

You’re on your last wrap around and Mitch gently smoothes it down, taking his stick back and inspecting it, “This is a great job Y/N.” You make a face, “You don't have to lie.” He laughs, “No really, this is great...” he turns around and taps Auston on the shoulder, “Hey Aus, look at Y/N’s tape job, it’s her first one.” Auston comes around and nods his head, “Hey look at that, that’s amazing.” 

“Really?” You ask suspiciously and they nod their heads, “Yeah, here look, just ask the guys.” Auston tells you and brings a few of the other players over to take a look at it. Pretty soon, Jack Eichel, Travis Konecny, Mat Barzal, and Connor McDavid himself are all praising your work. 

“That’s really great for a first time, might be better than all of ours.”

“Are you sure you did that and not Mitch?”

“Who knows, maybe she’s the one doing all of Mitch’s tape.”

“I’m not even that good.”

Mitch was happy his friends were playing along, if he was being honest, there were some lumps here and there and he knew that he would actually have to redo it, but he didn't want you to feel bad, especially after he told you it was fine no matter how you did it. He especially didn't want Fred to come after him for making you upset. 

So, he watched as you smiled brightly at the praise, and eventually the conversation turned to the competition, you asking each of the guys which skill they were in and them asking more about you, telling you; any friend of Mitch is a friend of ours.

However, as you were talking with the younger guys, your boyfriend was on the other side of the room with a frown set on his face.

Freddie hated when he got this way, when he felt so, old.

He didn’t mind it at all when he saw you with guys you’re age, he’s not a controlling person, but there’s just something inside that makes him feel guilty, as if he's keeping you from living your life the way he thinks you should be.

Watching them all make you laugh, seeing how well you vibe with them and relate to them, the way he feels he can’t, makes him feel, dare he say it, insecure about his place in your life. You need someone who can converse with you like that, someone who's young, fun, and carefree. Fred’s too old to do the fortnite dances, too old to be speaking in ‘vine talk.’

I mean, he couldn’t even offer you to tape his stick, which would’ve been a young, fun thing to do. Instead, he did it himself because he was too superstitious that he wouldn’t play properly if anyone but him got his equipment ready. Something only the old guys do.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice you're staring and when he hears your footsteps coming toward him, he averts his eyes from the floor to his pads, trying to make it look like he wasn’t just doubting himself.

As soon as you saw his frown and the crease on his forehead, you knew something was bothering him and so you wished all the boys good luck and walked over, sitting beside him and grabbing hand, “You alright bub?” He nods and sits down, undoing all the straps and you place your hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at yours, “Bub, talk to me.” He stares at you for a second and sighs.

“I just, I'm sorry that I didn't ask if you wanted to tape my stick, I'm sorry if I didn’t notice that you were bored just sitting on the bench-” His words confuse you and you shake your head, causing him to stop, “Fred, I wasn’t bored, and I hadn’t meant to tape Mitch’s stick, he just offered. I’m fine with just watching you get your equipment ready, it’s yours anyway.” He’s still not buying it and you sigh, putting your hand on his knee, “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs, “Every time I see you around people your age, guys your age, I can't help but feel out of place, and it’s not that you can’t hang out with them but I always get this feeling of...” he trails off and you finish for him, “Guilt?” he nods but his eyebrows are furrowed and you huff a laugh, “I feel the same way too Freddie, whenever I see you with people your age, I always feel like I'm a little kid you have to watch over. But, at the end of the day, we have each other to remind ourselves of how much we love each other. I love you so much Fred, I could care less of how old you are. I could care less if you have a ten ‘o’ clock bedtime, if you only watch golf all day, and if you don’t find some memes funny. You’re amazing just the way you are, you’re all I want Freddie.” 

He nods and leans in to place a kiss to your temple, “Thank you elskede, I love you too.” You smile and run your fingers through his hair, “I’m very lucky to have you.” He shakes his head and chuckles, “Darling I think I'm the lucky one.” 

You both sit there as he finishes up with his equipment, glancing at each other and giggling when you catch the other’s eye. Soon after, it’s time for you to leave the room so you wish him luck, and whisper that you love him while connecting your lips. 

Fred watches as you retreat down the hallway and Mitch comes up behind him, “You little sap.” 

[fictionadventurer]

Father Brown Reread: The Absence of Mr. Glass

The consulting-rooms of Dr Orion Hood, the eminent criminologist and specialist in certain moral disorders, lay along the sea-front at Scarborough, in a series of very large and well-lighted french windows, which showed the North Sea like one endless outer wall of blue-green marble.

I like how the first and second collections both start with a story focusing on a professional detective who’s not Father Brown.

True to form, we’ve got a color word in the first sentence. And not only that--a hypenated color word! You don’t get much more Chesterton than that.

Everything about him and his room indicated something at once rigid and restless, like that great northern sea by which (on pure principles of hygiene) he had built his home. Fate, being in a funny mood, pushed the door open and introduced into those long, strict, sea-flanked apartments one who was perhaps the most startling opposite of them and their master.

Highlighting this because “Fate, being in a funny mood” is a great phrase.

But also because I love when the stories contrast Father Brown’s clumsy, homely shabbiness with characters who look more distinguished and accomplished.

"My name is Brown. Pray excuse me. I've come about that business of the MacNabs. I have heard, you often help people out of such troubles. Pray excuse me if I am wrong."

It’s odd that Father Brown is consulting another detective on this. He doesn’t seem the sort to seek out other help. He usually just winds up on the scene of the crime by accident.

It seems like he should have the confidence to solve the mystery himself.

It seems like the more natural way to bring Hood into the story would be to have the girl approach Dr. Hood and Father Brown just to be at the house for priest reasons before figuring out the mystery.

But maybe Father Brown’s stumped from lack of evidence and doesn’t have the time for an investigation. (Actually paying attention to his priestly duties for once?)

After all, it’s only luck that the crisis that gives them an excuse to investigate the apartment happens two minutes later.

And of course, the whole point of the story is getting this Holmes detective to the same crime scene as Father Brown to contrast their methods, so it doesn’t much matter how he gets there.

And there is a lot of fun in seeing shabby little Father Brown in this professional detective’s immaculate study.

"Oh, this is of the greatest importance," broke in the little man called Brown. "Why, her mother won't let them get engaged." And he leaned back in his chair in radiant rationality.

It’s not a full-fledged Father Brown story unless the mystery is centered on a romance, is it?

A stock Chesterton exchange: foolish-looking character says simple, silly-sounding statement as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world, before being forced to elaborate by a confused listener.

This story gives us Father Brown at his most silly-seeming. Here he’s not just unassuming and sheltered; he seems like one of Chesterton’s holy fools. He hasn’t looked this simple-minded since “The Blue Cross”

"Mr Brown," he said gravely, "it is quite fourteen and a half years since I was personally asked to test a personal problem: then it was the case of an attempt to poison the French President at a Lord Mayor's Banquet.  It is now, I understand, a question of whether some friend of yours called Maggie is a suitable fiancee for some friend of hers called Todhunter.  Well, Mr Brown, I am a sportsman. I will take it on.  I will give the MacNab family my best advice, as good as I gave the French Republic and the King of England--no, better: fourteen years better.  I have nothing else to do this afternoon. Tell me your story."

Sure, he’s a condescending ass, but I can’t help liking this guy. He’s got a good heart and a good sense of humor.

I kind of wish he’d have showed up in at least one or two other stories (preferably with a better end than Valentine).

The little clergyman called Brown thanked him with unquestionable warmth, but still with a queer kind of simplicity. It was rather as if he were thanking a stranger in a smoking-room for some trouble in passing the matches, than as if he were (as he was) practically thanking the Curator of Kew Gardens for coming with him into a field to find a four-leaved clover.

I like this metaphor very much.

Brown is still very, very much the simple little curate of “The Blue Cross”. But with the bumpkin traits turned up to eleven.

I’m very curious about Dr. Hood’s past cases, and how he achieved such renown.

"I told you my name was Brown; well, that's the fact, and I'm the priest of the little Catholic Church I dare say you've seen beyond those straggly streets, where the town ends towards the north.

Yet another parish! How many is this? This seems like the most distant, rural parish that Father Brown has yet had.

And Father Brown’s actually doing some work at it!

He seems to have quite a pocketful of money, but nobody knows what his trade is.  Mrs MacNab, therefore (being of a pessimistic turn), is quite sure it is something dreadful, and probably connected with dynamite. The dynamite must be of a shy and noiseless sort, for the poor fellow only shuts himself up for several hours of the day and studies something behind a locked door.  He declares his privacy is temporary and justified, and promises to explain before the wedding.  

Doesn’t the landlady have a key to the door of her own lodger? Can’t she just demand to look?

British people, I tell you.

Unless the daughter is preventing her from looking, out of respect for her beloved.

And, you know, he does promise to explain, so it’d be rude to just barge in.

So why bother consulting the great detective in the first place? If Todhunter’s really on the up-and-up, he’ll explain eventually, they’ll get engaged, and all will be well.

he is tirelessly kind with the younger children, and can keep them amused for a day on end

Given Todhunter’s chosen profession, this makes perfect sense.

You see, therefore, how this sealed door of Todhunter's is treated as the gate of all the fancies and monstrosities of the 'Thousand and One Nights'.

Another Father Brown mystery built upon a fairy tale atmosphere.

To the scientific eye all human history is a series of collective movements, destructions or migrations, like the massacre of flies in winter or the return of birds in spring. Now the root fact in all history is Race. Race produces religion; Race produces legal and ethical wars. There is no stronger case than that of the wild, unworldly and perishing stock which we commonly call the Celts, of whom your friends the MacNabs are specimens. Small, swarthy, and of this dreamy and drifting blood, they accept easily the superstitious explanation of any incidents, just as they still accept (you will excuse me for saying) that superstitious explanation of all incidents which you and your Church represent.

A lot of the most racist characters in Chesterton are the most educated, scientific and progressive.

Granted, Chesterton does a lot of stereotyping along national lines himself. But usually it’s not with the idea that these differences are bad things. And certainly not with the idea that race is the cause of all war.

the door opened on a young girl, decently dressed but disordered and red-hot with haste. She had sea-blown blonde hair,

Is this the first blonde female love interest in these stories?

They were quarrelling—about money, I think—for I heard James say again and again, 'That's right, Mr Glass,' or 'No, Mr Glass,' and then, 'Two or three, Mr Glass.'

Given the eventual explanation of what’s really happening here, wouldn’t she have heard some other noises (possibly crashing noises?) alongside this?

"I do not think this young lady is so Celtic as I had supposed. As I have nothing else to do, I will put on my hat and stroll down town with you."

Wow, you were really just going to disbelieve her because of her nationality, weren’t you?

Playing-cards lay littered across the table or fluttered about the floor as if a game had been interrupted. Two wine glasses stood ready for wine on a side-table, but a third lay smashed in a star of crystal upon the carpet. A few feet from it lay what looked like a long knife or short sword, straight, but with an ornamental and pictured handle, its dull blade just caught a grey glint from the dreary window behind, which showed the black trees against the leaden level of the sea. Towards the opposite corner of the room was rolled a gentleman's silk top hat, as if it had just been knocked off his head; so much so, indeed, that one almost looked to see it still rolling. And in the corner behind it, thrown like a sack of potatoes, but corded like a railway trunk, lay Mr James Todhunter, with a scarf across his mouth, and six or seven ropes knotted round his elbows and ankles. His brown eyes were alive and shifted alertly.

The clues are laid out very nicely here.

This is one of the most Romantic (in the literary sense of the term) crime scenes in all of fiction. Every clue is as picturesque as possible.

"How to explain the absence of Mr Glass and the presence of Mr Glass's hat? For Mr Glass is not a careless man with his clothes. That hat is of a stylish shape and systematically brushed and burnished, though not very new. An old dandy, I should think." "But, good heavens!" called out Miss MacNab, "aren't you going to untie the man first?"

This entire segment is so funny. I laugh every time one of his long-winded deductions is interrupted by the common-sense demand to untie the man.

Now, surely it is obvious that there are the three chief marks of the kind of man who is blackmailed. And surely it is equally obvious that the faded finery, the profligate habits, and the shrill irritation of Mr Glass are the unmistakable marks of the kind of man who blackmails him. We have the two typical figures of a tragedy of hush money:

So much of the Holmesian deduction process relies on stereotypes, doesn’t it? Sure, Holmes doesn’t label people in “types” quite this way, but it relies on using the evidence to reach the most stereotypical conclusion without factoring in the random possibilities of life. (The suspect might have ink on his hands, but it doesn’t mean he’s a clerk). It’s fun that this story calls out that conceit.

"No; I think these ropes will do very well till your friends the police bring the handcuffs."

Okay, so there’s a sensible explanation for why Hood ignores their cries to untie Todhunter. But it doesn’t make the previous exchanges any less funny to read.

"But the ropes?" inquired the priest, whose eyes had remained open with a rather vacant admiration.

It’s interesting that Father Brown’s actually buying into this. My memory had him being more skeptical of the deductions, but he’s admiring the chain of logic being built here.

It’s kind of a nice change from the usual Chesterton tack of the mouthpiece character disdaining every scientific explanation.

It was not the blank curiosity of his first innocence. It was rather that creative curiosity which comes when a man has the beginnings of an idea. "Say it again, please," he said in a simple, bothered manner; "do you mean that Todhunter can tie himself up all alone and untie himself all alone?" "That is what I mean," said the doctor. "Jerusalem!" ejaculated Brown suddenly, "I wonder if it could possibly be that!"

And we’re off! I always love the moment when Father Brown puts everything together, and it’s especially satisfying here, after he’s spent the whole story sitting back and letting another man do all the detective work.

"His eyes do look queer," cried the young woman, strongly moved. "You brutes; I believe it's hurting him!" "Not that, I think," said Dr Hood; "the eyes have certainly a singular expression. But I should interpret those transverse wrinkles as expressing rather such slight psychological abnormality—" "Oh, bosh!" cried Father Brown: "can't you see he's laughing?"

Each sentence gives a vivid picture of the three different personalities here. The tender-hearted young woman. The too-practical man of science. And the brash common sense of Father Brown.

He shuffled about the room, looking at one object after another with what seemed to be a vacant stare, and then invariably bursting into an equally vacant laugh, a highly irritating process for those who had to watch it.

Irritating to watch, I’m sure, but very amusing to imagine.

"But a hatter," protested Hood, "can get money out of his stock of new hats. What could Todhunter get out of this one old hat?" "Rabbits," replied Father Brown promptly.

I love the hat conversation and these lines in particular.

He was also practising the trick of a release from ropes, like the Davenport Brothers

According to Wikipedia, the Davenport Brothers were an American magician act that toured England in the 1860s. They built on the Spiritualism craze and claimed all their tricks were done by spirit power. There isn’t much about what their tricks wer, (besides a couple of escape tricks and spirit cabinet things). Most of the Wikipedia article is about the many times their tricks were debunked. (Naturally, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle refused to believe they were frauds).

But the mere fact of an idler in a top hat having once looked in at his back window, and been driven away by him with great indignation, was enough to set us all on a wrong track of romance, and make us imagine his whole life overshadowed by the silk-hatted spectre of Mr Glass."

This isn’t so much a debunking of the Holmesian deduction methods as a case study proving why logical deductions have to be built upon sound premises. One mistake at the beginning can send you in a completely false direction.

"You are certainly a very ingenious person," he said; "it could not have been done better in a book.

I love when the characters get meta.

This is a very snide remark in context, but of course Father Brown proves himself.

Mr Brown broke into a rather childish giggle. "Well, that," he said, "that's the silliest part of the whole silly story. When our juggling friend here threw up the three glasses in turn, he counted them aloud as he caught them, and also commented aloud when he failed to catch them. What he really said was: 'One, two and three—missed a glass one, two—missed a glass.' And so on."

I can’t explain how deeply I love that the entire mystery is built on a pun. This one section is the reason this is one of my favorite Father Brown stories.

This drives home the idea that mysteries and jokes are the same types of story. They both require laying out information that’s put together into a surprising conclusion.

There was a second of stillness in the room, and then everyone with one accord burst out laughing.  As they did so the figure in the corner complacently uncoiled all the ropes and let them fall with a flourish.  Then, advancing into the middle of the room with a bow, he produced from his pocket a big bill printed in blue and red, which announced that ZALADIN, the World's Greatest Conjurer, Contortionist, Ventriloquist and Human Kangaroo would be ready with an entirely new series of Tricks at the Empire Pavilion, Scarborough, on Monday next at eight o'clock precisely.

I grew up on cheesy sitcoms. I’m a sucker for the “everyone laughs” ending.

If Todhunter’s willing to admit the truth here, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble by just admitting the truth right away. (I don’t buy the “he keeps it secret to keep his tricks secret” explanation. You can tell people you’d a magician without giving away everything about your act).

Does Mrs. MacNab let them get married? Now she knows he has a harmless vocation, but it’s not exactly a stable one. Would she let her daughter marry a guy so flighty that he can’t even settle on a coherent focus for his own stage show?

Given that the story ends here, we’re supposed to assume that she does. I guess he must be a successful performer--part of her mistrust came from the fact that he had too much money. So he and Maggie should have a comfortable life together.

I’m glad. He seems like a nice young man.