#And we get this every night??? So many lights just beyond our reach???

[ramenwithbroccoli]

My mom said that we can go out at midnight to marvel at the beauty of the night and look straight into starry eyes of the universe, filled with nostalgia for space voyages beyond our comprehension. If it's alright with your mom.

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii! this request is based off of ur last one but can u pls do one where reader and tom are at a club or whatever and yn is the one getting rlly drunk and tom has to look after her 😭

love ur stuff btw baby, ur an awesome writer

TAKE CARE OF YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after you get a little more drunk than expected, it’s up to tom to take care of you - but you aren’t making it easy for him.

content: fluff

a/n: thankyou so much, i hope you like it!!

“baby, don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?” tom asks, reaching over and attempting to take the drink out of my hands. i quickly move away, shaking my head and putting the straw to my lips, the taste burning my throat as i swallow the liquid, the feeling only fuelling my excitement, a low buzz swelling my insides as all i want to do is smile.

the music pulses through my eardrums, lights flashing around the club as people messily dance to the beat whilst tom and i watch from a sofa tucked away in the corner, his arm loosely wrapped around my shoulder, his thumb stroking the bare skin, the spaghetti straps of my small black dress providing next to no coverage. our friends were somewhere within the crowd, tom not feeling like joining in, which meant that, much to my annoyance, i was stuck with him. he refused to leave my side the whole night, his protectiveness only increasing once i started to get a little tipsy.

i was now far beyond the point of being just a little bit hazy - i couldn’t even count how many drinks i’d had anymore, the alcohol pumping through my system the only thing on my mind, not considering tom’s growing worry as i become even more wasted.

“pleaseeee can we go dance?” i beg, looking upwards at him and trying my best to convince him, planting a small kiss on his neck as he sighs, looking downwards at me, shaking his head slowly.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, you’ve had way too much to drink schatz. i’m only trying to look out for you.” he replies gently, placing a small kiss on my forehead and tightening his hold on me. my shaky hand reaches for the tray of shots in the middle of the table, grabbing whichever one was closest to me, not caring what was in it - i just wanted it in my system.

“love…” tom starts, trying to stop me from taking it, leaning forward and placing both his hands on my shoulders.

i move away from his touch, downing the liquid and feeling it run down my throat before he can stop me, shivering slightly at it’s bitter taste. “stop treating me…like a fucking kid tom. let me have a drink and just, loosen up a little for fucks sake.” i slur, my words harsh as i roll my eyes and turn to him, his face slightly hurt, lips parted.

“i’m just trying to take care of you liebe, stop fighting with me.” he replies calmly, attempting to pull me back into his embrace, leaning backwards into the sofa.

“i’m going to dance.” i mumble, standing up as my body sways slightly, showing how wasted i really am. not giving tom any time to try stop me, i quickly walk towards the dance floor, though i hear him calling my name, the music soon drowning out his voice once i near the crowd of drunken bodies, beginning to sway my hips to the music. a grin takes over my expression, my arms swaying freely in the air, the alcohol controlling my every move. my head throbs, my body becoming sweaty, yet i tune it out, focusing only on the music, until i feel two strong arms wrap their way around my waist, their hold slightly foreign.

i turn around, expecting to see tom, but the deep blue eyes that are staring into mine take me aback, my hands roughly trying to pull his grip off of my waist with little success, the alcohol taking away the small strength that i had.

“get the fuck off of me! are you crazy?” i say, trying to sound as sober as i can, but my words are almost incoherent, the guy chuckling at my struggles.

“don’t be like that. what’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hm?” he asks, his hold on me only tightening as i begin to feel like a complete idiot for not listening to tom. if i had just stayed with him and appreciated his efforts to keep me safe, then i wouldn’t be in this situation.

“i have a boyfriend fuck off-” i begin, but my voice is soon cut off by the guy being roughly pulled away from me, all too familiar black braids soon coming into my view.

“you ever touch my girlfriend again and i swear to fucking god i will kill you.” tom threatens, holding the guy’s shirt until he scoffs, letting him go and watching him walk away.

tom’s attention soon turns to me, pulling me closer to him, holding my shoulders whilst he frantically checks my body, looking for any signs that the guy had hurt me. his eyes are glassy, lips parted as ragged breaths escape from them, his hold on me strong, yet he makes sure to not hurt me, attempting to study my expression. all that is clear to see is that i am wasted, my eyes empty, not even completely processing what has just happened, my mind only longing to carry on dancing.

“are you okay baby? did he hurt you?” he asks, sighing in relief when i shake my head, quickly pulling my body into his, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and refusing to let go.

“i’m fine tom, i promise.” i say, genuinely telling the truth.

“we’re leaving now. and don’t try fight me on it, okay?” he asserts, taking my hand in his and leading me out of the bar, my walking all over the place as the alcohol is still strong in my system.

despite what had just happened, i long to be back in there, tugging tom’s arm slightly, causing him to stop and turn around, waiting for me to speak.

“can we stay? just a little longer, please tom?” i plead, pulling him towards me slightly before he reaches the doors. his eyebrows furrow, confused at my question as if i had asked something completely crazy, because to him, i had.

“really? you want to stay, even after all that? you really are absolutely shitfaced.” he replied, lacing his fingers in mine once again. “we’re going home, it’s not safe for you to be here, not when you’re this drunk.”

“you’re so boring tom.” i mumble, having no choice but to leave with him, my body too weak to put up a fight, knowing that he would win and be able to carry me out of the club, which was an option too embarrassing for me to consider, even in this state.

“if wanting to keep my girlfriend safe makes me boring then fine, whatever baby.” tom sighs, opening the doors as the cold immediately hits me, the night bringing on a chilling breeze as the dress i am wearing gives me practically no warmth. i let go of tom’s hand, trying to warm myself up by wrapping my arms around my frame. tom picks up on this, taking off his oversized black jacket and slowly placing it on me, threading my arms through the material and holding my hand once again.

“better?” he asks.

i nod my head, not bothering to think of a quick remark, the throbbing in my head only increasing as the high i was on begins to wear off, leaving a nauseous feeling to spread in the bit of my stomach.

he guides me to his car, opening the door for me and gently placing me in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and stretching it around my tired frame.

“you okay?” he asks, his hand resting on the end of my seat to hold himself up as his upper body hovers over me from putting my seatbelt on, his brown eyes looking into mine. i nod my head, and he smiles, pecking my lips slowly before bending down to climb out of the car, walking over to the drivers side and hopping in. his hand rests on my thigh, his thumb comfortingly grazing over the soft skin, his other on the wheel as he pulls out, driving home through the empty streets, the early hours of the morning dawning over us.

my eyes falling shut, on the brink of falling asleep, i feel a strong grip lift me from the car, tom using his hands to wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me inside. he slips my heels off whilst still holding me, my head resting on his shoulder. he takes his own shoes off, placing his keys on the table and walking us upstairs.

“tom?” i say, my words muffled into his t-shirt, his jacket still draped over me.

“hm?” he says, moving one of his hands to rub my back.

“i don’t feel too good.” i admit, feeling the urge to throw up as he gets the hint, carrying me into the bathroom and switching the light on. he quickly sets me down as i hunch over the toilet, finally releasing the alcohol from my system. he holds my hair in his hand in a makeshift ponytail, using the other hand to comfortingly rub my back.

“you’re okay, i’m here.” he whispers, bent down beside me as i practically throw my guts up, regret quickly taking over as i wish that i hadn’t drank as much as i did.

i lift my head upwards, feeling completely sober now, tom looking at me sympathetically. he opens his arms for me as i fall into them, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“i’m sorry.” i mumble into him.

“why are you sorry baby?” he asks, running his hands through my hair, brushing out the knots the best he can.

“you’ve had to take care of me the whole night and now i’ve just thrown up and it’s all my fault!” i complain, my eyes welling up as i find myself becoming strangely emotional.

“don’t be sorry my love, that’s what i’m here for.” he begins, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “now let’s get you ready for bed, yeah? you must be exhausted.”

i nod my head as he pulls me upwards, walking me into our bedroom. i fall into bed, completely drained, not caring that my makeup is still on, or that i’m still in my dress. tom however, does, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently lifting me upwards.

“not yet, come on let’s get this off.” he says, pointing to my dress.

“you do it.” i mutter, too tired to even form complete sentence.

he nods, turning me around so that my back is facing him. his hand reaches for the zipper, pulling it downwards slowly, moving the straps off of my shoulders and getting up, grabbing one of his t-shirts and some fresh underwear for me. he pulls the dress off me and folds it neatly, putting it to the side.

“lift up.” he says, and i obey, allowing him to put his t-shirt on me. the material hangs from my frame, reaching my knees. he passes me my panties, and i put them on lethargically, my body almost passing out in exhaustion. tom gets up, saying nothing and walking to the bathroom, coming back with some makeup wipes.

“you go to sleep baby, i’ll do the rest.” he softly says as i fall backwards into the sheets, feeling him gently wipe the makeup from my face, making sure that he gets everything off, taking extra care to not apply too much pressure and hurt me. he puts the used makeup wipes in the trash, my body on the verge of falling asleep. he takes his clothes off, climbing into bed in his boxers and pulling me closer to him.

“thank you for taking care of me. i love you.” i whisper, my eyes still closed.

“i’ll always be here to look after you. even when you don’t want me to be.” he chuckles, kissing my forehead.

i smile, snuggling closer to him as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“goodnight schatz. i love you.” he says, his voice the last thing i hear before i fall asleep.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Goddess

Lily had a great time connecting with Gale in the astral plane and wonders if that's going to translate to "real" sex. (Spoiler alert: it does.) NSFW.

Lily stared at the moon shield and tried to imagine the stars in the sky beyond the Shadow Curse. Where we made love last night. Well, our souls did? Or something? It was romantic and lovely, but does this mean he doesn’t want to have physical sex? Ever?

She was taken out of her increasingly frantic thoughts by the object of her affection. Gale’s hand touched the small of her back, right at the base of her tail. “I still maintain that the incredibly terrible light here does nothing to diminish your beauty, sweetness. Remembering how you were bathed in starlight as our souls came together makes me feel such utter joy…joy I haven’t felt in some time.”

“Me too. It’s all been wonderful so far, and last night was incredible. Magical.” In so many ways…every way… “I just, well…” she fidgeted slightly. “You clearly enjoy being intimate in the astral but are we…you know…going to…” THIS IS SO AWKWARD! WHY AM I DOING THIS!??! “Have real sex?” Real sex?! Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m done for. She could feel her cheeks getting hotter with every passing second, her embarrassment rising.

Gale’s hand on her back stilled as his mouth dropped open, turning his head to face her. “Of course I do! Did I…oh gods…did I suggest in some way that I didn’t?”

She looked away from him, the embarrassment and now creeping shame too much. “No, but you just really seem to like that and made a point of saying that’s the way the gods do it.” Tears stung her demonic purple eyes. “I’m not a goddess, Gale.”

He shook his head vehemently. “To me you are. And if my beloved goddess wishes to have sex, then,” The hand at the base of her tail suddenly traveled further south, grabbing a generous handful of her behind. Lily let out a small squeak, her cheeks reddening more. “She shall be thoroughly fucked until satisfied by her most devoted supplicant.” His normally soft voice was now a low growl, and when she dared to glance at him, his brown eyes were blown wide with lust. “Would you like that, o goddess of war and beauty?”

It was not the first time Lily found herself speechless around Gale. She could only nod as she kissed him. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. The kiss grew more passionate every second. Both of his hands were on her ass now, squeezing as he moaned into her mouth.

“I will treat you like the deity you are, darling. I will spoil you. I will worship you. I will—”

She felt his very large erection against her thigh. “Go somewhere private before someone finds us?” Lily laughed softly, pushing him away slightly.

Nodding, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Yes. Of course.” When his eyes opened, he took her hand. “You’re sure? I-oh. It’s your first time, isn’t it? Gods, I—” He stopped speaking as one of her clawed fingers touched his lips.

“Yes it is. Yes I want this. Yes I want you, preferably inside me sooner than later.” She smiled warmly at him. “I love you.” Leaning her head down slightly, their foreheads touched briefly.

“I love you too.” They walked back to camp in a comfortable silence. When they reached her tent, he cleared his throat. “Meet me in the same spot as last night, my sweet. I’m not making love to you on a bloody bedroll in the middle of camp. You’ll have every comfort I can conjure; I promise.”

Oh Gale. “Love, you don’t have to do anything special—”

He grinned. “At the very least, you deserve a bed. And so do I, frankly. Sleeping on the ground has done a number on my back and hips.” Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to it. “Seek and you shall find me…”

Lily did find him a short while later, in the same field as the previous night. But unlike the previous night, there was a giant, four-poster bed in the middle of the field. Gale leaned rather cockily against one of the posters. “And here I was thinking you’d just make a really nice tent for us.” She giggled, pulling him into a hug.

“My dear lady, dream bigger! I beg of you!” He caressed her freckled pink cheek. “After all, I’m your magic man. I can make all your fantasies become reality. I can enchant you as well as the night sky. I can create illusions that exist solely to pleasure you. I can—”

She shook her head. “Gale, I want you. I just want you. I don’t need anything else.” I mean, I could use some chocolate, but that’s another thing entirely. Running her fingers through his gray-streaked brown hair, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You’re enough for me, love. Just as you are.”

He blinked. “I…A-are you quite sure, my dear? I can make this already wonderful night even more so for you. Truly magical.” It was his turn to shake his head. “You’d really have me as I am? A fat, middle-aged failure of a wizard—oh!” Grabbing his face with her hands, she kissed him soundly.

Still kissing him, she murmured, “Shut. Up. Gale. And. Fuck. Me. Senseless.” PLEASE.

“As the lady commands.” With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Gale snapped his fingers, leaving them naked and their clothes folded neatly on a blanket nearby. Of course he magicked them into little organized piles. Of course he did. The wizard drank in the sight of Lily, soulful brown eyes becoming wide. “Gods, you are gorgeous. Just look at you, my love---perfect in every way…” He breathed, hands going up and down her soft sides. “A goddess among us…how blessed am I?” As his lips touched hers, he reached for his bun and undid the tie, letting his gray-streaked locks flow. “Shall we?”

Lily lay down on the bed on her side, an arm trying to cover her breasts. “Sorry in advance if I’m not good.” She chuckled nervously, watching his expression change from playful to serious.

Now laying down and facing her, his brown eyes stared into hers. “Sweetest and dearest Lily, that won’t happen.” His lips captured hers in a slow yet passionate kiss. “I’ve done the calculations, you see, and it is mathematically impossible for you to be bad in bed, darling.”

She giggled softly, running a clawed hand down his hairy chest. “Is that so, Mr. Yummy Magic Man?” Gods, he is so hairy, and I fucking love it.

“Indeed. You cannot fail. It simply will not be. Do you know why, my beautiful flower?” Upon seeing her shake her head, he continued. “Because, no matter what, being with you in any way…in every way…will always be wonderful.” He kissed along her jaw, causing her to moan softly. “You are a goddess of passion---both on the battlefield and off.” His kisses became more frantic as he went down her neck to her chest. “To see you in a rage, wild magic positively erupting from you, as you cleave enemies like a hot knife through butter…gods,” His fingers traced along her ridges and then one of his perfect, just perfect hands began to caress one of her large breasts. “You don’t know what you do to me, my love.”

“I can imagine—oh gods, please…” She teased but then suddenly moaned as he took her other breast in his mouth.

Speak to me, sweetheart. Tell me how this feels.

Really nice. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.

Oh my love, I never plan to. I want to pleasure you. I want to worship you, sweet goddess of passion. Please give unto your humble supplicant a token of your favor.

After spending an equal amount of time worshipping her other breast, he pushed himself up and backwards. Now on his knees, Gale smiled as he nudged a pillow under Lily’s behind. “For your comfort and mine. Now, where was I? Oh yes!” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Time for my second supper.” He winked before diving towards the apex of her thick thighs.

Gods, you are incredible, darling. Simply incredible. Is…all this for me?

Yes. Been like this since…well, the night I tried to channel the Weave with you.

Sweetness, that was several weeks ago!!!!!! Are you telling me you’ve been suffering like this for that long?! And you didn’t say anything?!?!? You know I would’ve done something sooner had that been the case. By the gods, you will never go that long without relief ever again. Starting right now, my love.

I-I didn’t…I was really embarrassed, love.

Whatever for? It’s perfectly natural to feel sexual arousal. Goodness knows I’ve had quite a bit of it since we’ve started this journey, and well, until Elminster stabilized the orb, I couldn’t exactly do anything about it.

Are you saying that if you jacked off you might’ve set off the orb?

Yes?

Holy shit. If it weren’t so fucking serious, I’d find it really funny. I mean, it’s not funny at all. Nope.

Lily darling, many nights I felt the intense pull of desire, my loins positively aching—

She tried and failed to hold in a giggle.

You can’t just say loins and not expect me to giggle!

Poor me, my normally sweet lover teasing me when I suffered so.

Lily laughed and reached for his long locks, claws lightly scraping against his scalp.

Oh hush you! My poor handsome wizard, going to explode in another way if he didn’t touch himself.

The only exploding I wish to do, my dear, is inside you…that is, if that’s alright. I can always pull out—

No! It’s fine. I’d like that.

You’re sure?

I am…and thanks for asking. It’s weird to say, but…you know what I mean.

Her face turned hotter by the second between her embarrassment and his ministrations.

Gods Gale, where…how…did you learn to be so fucking good at this?

Plenty of practice, my beautiful flower. With practice, one perfects. I strive for perfection in all things. I would know you as well as you know yourself. Know how to make you sing so sweetly for me. Know how to draw out your pleasure until you’re screaming and begging me to give you bliss. Know how to give you all you desire.

Gale heard her pant and moan softly and felt no small modicum of pride.

Do you like this, sweetheart? Does this feel good?

Yes. Gods yes. Never felt like this ever…

Have you…have you never come before, my love?

No? I don’t think so?

Oh goodness me, well. I see. I must be perfect then. More than perfect. Universe shattering.

Wha—

“Oh gods!” She gasped as a long finger entered her.

If you think that’s wonderful, sweetness, just wait until I put a second finger inside. And a third. Must prepare you for me, after all.

W-what? Are you saying you’re as big as you were in the astral?

My dear lady, I am indeed that big.

He could not help but chuckle when he heard her gasp in as many moments.

What’s the matter? His Majesty got your tongue, Lady Lily?

You’re incredible.

Because I have a large cock, a large brain, or both?

Because you’re you, and I love you…

I love you too. So, so much.

Oh gods, that’s another finger…Gale, fucking hells…

Can you take one more? Just one more, darling.

Fuck yes, of course I can.

As the lady wishes…

His fingers curled inside her, and he felt begin to flutter around him. He sucked more and harder, his hips thrusting from his own arousal.

Gale. Gale. Gale. Oh gods. Gale love. Please. Oh gods.

Lily let out several soft pants as she came. Universe shattering. He was right on the money there.

Good to know.

Oops. Well. Yeah, that was amazing.

In turn licking her spend on his mouth and wiping his beard, he winked at her, head resting on her belly. “You should know, my sweet, I plan on doing that several times a day.”

“Is that so, love?” She traced the shell of an ear with a claw, a languid grin on her face. “Surely not after I’ve been fighting?” Oh please, he gets turned on when I’m covered in blood and guts. And Astarion said he’s always watching my ass in battle.

“I would live between your beautiful thighs if you let me.” Oh shit, he’s serious. “You are undoubtedly the sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” He heaved and positioned himself over her, one hand guiding himself to her entrance and the other next to her head. “Tell me if you’re at all uncomfortable, darling. Promise me you will.” Gale whispered, pressing a kiss beneath the base of a horn.

Her demonic purple eyes met his, and her heart melted into goo. He loves me. He really, really, really loves me. I love you too, my beautiful man. “I will.”

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me. G-good…gods…” Groaning, he stuttered as he began to slide inside her. “You are…so tight…heaven help me, Lily…my love…my goddess…my world…my everything…” It was some time (he went so slowly because he didn’t want me to experience any pain), but when he finally filled her completely, he moaned a long, drawn out, “fuck.”

Which Lily found quite funny! He’s so cute and funny and SO BIG. “Can we stay like this for a second, love?”

“Of course. Of course. As much time as you need, my love.”

Her hands that were on his shoulders moved down his soft sides. “You can be on top of me, you know. I don’t mind.”

He swallowed thickly. “I, erm…I-I worry about being too much—”

This is something we both need to get over, so I might as well have us start that little journey now. She caressed his sides and sighed. “I love you, and you’re never too much for me. Bigger, smaller…it doesn’t matter. It’s you I love. All of you.” It must be the same for me too. Mum always says I need to be kinder to myself. If I can be kind to him---the man I love---then I should at least try to be kind to me.

A noise that sounded like a choked sob emerged from him as he lowered the rest of his body onto hers. Sighing in relief, he whispered, “No one’s ever said that before.”

WHAT?! “Oh?”

“Never. Not until you….so, thank you. And before you think me a terrible lover, I, of course, think the same as you.” He pressed several kisses against her jaw. “You can never be too big for me, darling.” He said with a smile as he kissed her on her lips. OH?!?!?

One of the hands on his side traveled down to his behind, giving it a squeeze. “You can move now, Gale love.”

Rolling his hips slowly, he chuckled as he kissed her neck. “I notice you ignored that last bit, sweetness. Did that bother you?”

“No,” she said a few moments of thinking. “It doesn’t. I guess it’s just nice to know you won’t…” It’s too terrible to even say, because I know he never would. I…I…I need to know. “Leave me once I’m not swinging a sword around daily more.”

His thrusts increased in speed as she spoke. “Good gods, Lily! I would never. Never.” He grunted and did several hard thrusts. “I vow…here and now…I will…always…desire you…always…my sweet Lily…” One of his hands by her head reached towards her red curls at the apex of her thighs.

Come for me again, my love.

Gale…

Please. Please, darling. Please. I need you to come one more time for me. Just one more, sweetness.

So close…

Be a good girl and come for me…

When she cried out in pleasure a second later, Gale felt a joy he had not felt in a very long time.

Lily…my love…I…

With three more thrusts, he came. Feeling sated, truly sated, for the first time in a year, he sighed as her long arms hugged him tightly. Neither said anything for a few moments, content to stay as they were.

As Gale shifted and rolled off her, he conjured damp washcloth and began to clean her. “You feeling alright, my dear? Any soreness?” He murmured, his warm gaze meeting hers.

She shook her head. “No. Could…could I ask you something?” Don’t sound stupid. Don’t sound stupid. He hummed, and she took a deep breath. “Is it going to be like this every time?”

A small smirk tugged on his lips. “Oh darling, this is only the start. Our collective pleasure will only increase exponentially now. We can explore each other, find all the ways to please the other, give all of ourselves to the other…so no, it won’t be like this every time.” He conjured a second washcloth for himself. “It will be better.” His expression went from pleased to frankly smug as fuck. He’s so sexy. Fuck. “Would you like to hear about something I have in mind for a future lovemaking session, sweetness?”

She nodded, utterly transfixed by him.

“You sit on my face, I devour you, and your tail gives me the best…well, handjob of my life.” He scrunched his nose in the cutest way. “I suppose more accurately it’s a tailjob, but the tail is acting as a hand, so it could also be a handjob—”

Lily burst out laughing, her tail whacking him on his leg. “I get the bloody picture! Tail handjob! Got it!” She grinned widely at him. “I love you.”

He laughed softly and rolled his eyes. “I love you too.” Gale curled into Lily’s soft side and entwined one of his hands with hers.

“It sounds lovely, by the way. I’d be into doing that.” She said as her tail gently swayed back and forth. Just be very careful, Lily. Very careful.

“I’m glad.” He paused, his thumb rubbing her gently. “You may speak to me about any desires you have. You know that, yes?” Smiling, his gaze met hers. “And not simply desires, darling! Anything. Everything. I swear nothing can be too strange or outlandish for me. You wouldn’t believe—”

She giggled into the kiss that silenced him.

What I want is to cuddle with you as we sleep. We can figure out everything else later.

Right. Yes. Of course.

He ended the kiss (not a fan of that) and rolled over onto his other side, his backside now pressed against her front. “Darling, forgive me if I haven’t said this before now, but you feel incredible. How lucky am I to have bedded the goddess who walks among us mere mortals?” Her response was to giggle. “Oh, is that all you have to say, Lady Lily Wildheart? Or should I say, The Goddess of Passion?” As his voice became more dramatic, her giggles turned into laughter. “You are—”

“Totally and completely in love with you, Gale.”

He brought her hand that was on his side to his lips. “As am I, my dear. Since the moment you pulled me from that portal.” He murmured, holding her hand to his heart, over the now-silent orb. “I can never love another now that I have loved you.”

Oh fucking hells, there he goes again being so romantic and perfect and amazing and smart and funny and sexy and FUCK. “How is it you put my exact feelings into such lovely words?”

Gale stifled a yawn before answering. “Because, my dear, I’ve ready many, many, many books.”

Goodnight, my love. I shall try to dream of us and this wonderful night we shared.

One last thing…astral sex or what we just did?

Lily, both have their merits—

Gale.

Fine. Nothing can compare to eating your terribly delicious pussy. Absolutely nothing. Dying between your thighs is my preferred way to depart this world, I’ll have you know.

Gale. Love, you can die between my thighs when we’re very old. Not any time soon.

He did not answer her right away, humming softly as she drifted to sleep.

Then she heard him before it claimed her.

For you, my goddess, I will do my best to live.

[wheelercurse]

I have so many thoughts about byler and how their love for each other is represented by their love and wish to play d&d. They're queercoded using this game. 

Playing games is used as a metaphor to their wish to be together, and not just in a platonic way. It's confirmed that Will's feelings for Mike are beyond friendship, so why would it not apply the other way around?

The hidden meaning in Mike's question was: "What did you think really that we were never get girlfriends, that we would spend the rest of our lives together?" "Yeah, I guess I did; I really did." 

And in the end, we know that Mike still wants to play. That's why he looked worried when Will put his game in the donation box. Will told him they would use his when he returned if they still wanted to play. And Mike confirmed that he still wanna play, but what if he joined another party, Will told him, "not possible." Mike was worried about Will moving on, and that's impossible (so yeah, this story isn't ending with Will moving on from Mike and finding a new random love interest at the end). 

Another significant mention was Hopper's letter's voiceover when he said he was missing playing board games every night. It also illustrates Mike's feelings for Will, as you can see here. Again I don't think they're using d&d as platonic feelings for one and the other romantic. And also, in a scene before that, Mike could not say ILY, and he still couldn't do it until Will pushed him. 

In s4, we got more confirmation that Mike still wants to play d&d because he joined Hellfire Club. He's embracing more his nerdy side, but still, he's insecure about it because he feels like a random nerd next to El. 

Mike's arc is about accepting himself for who he is, including his queerness. Trying to leave d&d behind comes from his mindset that he shouldn't be playing games because he has grown up, but also he mentions that they have girlfriends. Can you see the heteronormative perspective? He thinks he can't play games with Will for the rest of his life, aka he can't be with Will, because he has to date girls. I don't think he wanted to change to impress El. But another reason he was dating El was that he thought it was cool to date a superhero; he didn't want to be just random guy. Not that he wanted to be cool for El. It goes deeper than that because his actions are coming from his insecurities, from him not being able to accept himself for who he is (yes, he's a nerd, and he's also queer) 

In s4, Will painted something d&d related to express his feelings for Mike. He's in love with him because he knows him. He describes him as this boy who leads the party and inspires them. He's the heart of their group friend and also his heart. But those feelings are still disguised. Yeah, the audience knows the truth, but inside the story, they are still a queercode to be deciphered. 

And the last thing, Will also told Mike in the van that he wants to play d&d for the rest of their lives. And when he's saying that, he's being illuminated. Because that's Mike's light and his wish for the future, he wants the same thing, but he responds with an unsure "Yeah Totally," because he isn't there yet. He hasn't embraced that truth about himself. But he’s also reaching through the light, he’s almost there. 

My point is that Will and Mike are gay and in love with each other. And their love has been queercoded through their favourite game because they're two big nerds. (just as the creators of the show) 

[pickalilywrites]

Aruani going to see a movie on Valentines day. Modern AU fic.

writing this fic made me feel better~ thank you

things best left unplanned

aruani. college au. 2122 words.

Armin Arlert is the type to meticulously plan everything down to the last second. It’s relaxing for him to come up with a detailed itinerary that includes bullets with sub-bullets that have their own sub-bullets that have their own sub-bullets. Crossing out completed tasks gives him a surge of dopamine like no other, but he knows that it’s not the lifestyle that other people would deem normal. The way Armin operates currently leaves hardly any wiggle room for error. Of course, Armin creates different scenarios in his mind and plans out alternative schedules should the original be abandoned due to circumstances beyond his control, but there are unexpected events that can avoid his foresight completely including (but not limited to): traffic jams that span half the city and render nearly every mode of transportation useless, restaurants closing for maintenance, and unplanned power outages. For Armin, these are catastrophic events that might as well be equivalent to the whole world crumbling around him. For Annie, it’s just another day and she takes everything the world throws at her in a stride no matter how unexpected. 

Although she’s very different from Armin, she doesn’t seem to mind the to-do list Armin brings to every date. She watched with amusement as he would cross out every activity they completed in their holiday-themed date to-do list even though other people would probably make fun of him. She even waits patiently for Armin if he has to pull out his alternative schedule if their original plans get derailed. She adjusts so calmly to Armin’s rigidly planned itinerary that Armin can’t believe it sometimes, especially considering how laissez faire Annie is with her own plans.  

When Armin asks Annie what her plans are for the weekend or the evening, she usually just shrugs her shoulders and tells him she hasn’t decided yet. She could watch a movie or read a book, but she doesn’t tie herself down with a detailed schedule that needs to be followed to the very letter. Maybe that’s why she has such a calm demeanor, especially compared to Armin’s tightly-wound personality that is threatening to snap at the nearest unexpected inconvenience.  

Armin knows that his rigid disposition is grating. Even his friends, despite their patience, can grow irritated when Armin displays his inflexibility one too many times. Armin doesn’t want his unyielding nature to wear Annie down, too. It’s a wonder she hasn’t grown tired of him already. He probably should have been more courteous towards her, especially when planning dates in the past. Heck, they had spent the entire winter going through a painstakingly planned list of holiday activities Armin had scheduled, so Armin decided to take a much less structured approach this upcoming Valentine’s Day by planning absolutely nothing besides a skeleton of an idea.  

“The movies?” Annie asks, looking up at the theater that Armin has led them to. Her ungloved hand is clasped in Armin’s mittened hand as she casts her boyfriend a skeptical glance. She’s used to Armin pulling out a list by now and going over each bullet even though he memorizes everything the night before, but he’s empty-handed now. She raises an eyebrow at Armin. “What movie are we going to watch?” 

Armin gives his girlfriend a strained smile. His hands are itching to reach into his pocket and pull out the schedule he didn’t make. His anxiety is spiking, his heart is racing, and he’s feeling light-headed. If he thinks about it too much, he might puke. He swallows down the bitter bile rising in his throat and says, “Oh, just whatever good is playing. Did you want to watch anything in particular?”  

Annie notices his uncharacteristic behavior, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she shrugs at his question and answers, “I’m good with whatever.”  

The response should ease Armin’s nerves, but it only makes him feel worse. It’s not Annie’s fault. There isn’t anything that would make him feel better in his current state.  

“Right, that’s great,” Armin says weakly. Hand in hand with Annie, Armin marches weakly up to the ticket booth and says, “Two tickets, please.”  

The high schooler working there glances up at Armin. He has bags under his eyes like he stayed up studying for an exam. He looks so miserable that Armin almost apologizes, but before he can the high schooler yawns, asking sleepily, “What movie?”  

“Er.” Armin glances up at the movies that are currently showing but is soon overwhelmed with all these titles he’s only seen in advertisements or commercial breaks on TV. “Do you have a recommendation? Anything that’s showing within the next hour or so should be fine.”  

The ticket stand worker hums and types something into the computer. The computer is a dinosaur, a boxy, old model that Armin hasn’t seen since at least elementary school, and the high schooler bangs on the monitor in the hopes that this will speed up the computer. He sighs through his nose when the computer fails to give him the movie schedule and taps his fingers impatiently, giving Armin and Annie a tight-lipped, apologetic smile as they wait. After a moment, the theater employee says, “Alright. Busy day, but holidays like Valentine’s Day usually are. All our romance movies are sold out until tomorrow evening. The action, sci-fi, and drama movies are all booked, too. We do have some seats open for the animated children’s film that’s screening as well as that horror movie that just came out. Do either of those sound good to you?”  

Neither of those sound good to Armin. Nothing about an animated children’s movie or a horror movie sounds remotely romantic to him, although he knows it won’t bother Annie whether they watch one or the other. He doesn’t want to leave the theater without having watched anything, though, and so he grits his teeth and asks politely for two tickets to the horror movie because he figures it would be more appropriate for people his and Annie’s age.  

“Are you okay?” Annie asks, glancing at Armin. She’s holding Armin’s hand, but his grip is much tighter than it was before they had stepped into the theater. If Armin were to take his mittens off, Annie would see that his knuckles have gone completely white.  

“Yep. I’m fine,” Armin says, although his answer comes out stilted and unconvincing. He tries to smile, hoping that his expression will be enough to fool his girlfriend. “I’m just excited to watch the movie.”  

“You hate horror movies,” Annie points out.  

“I ... I’m not opposed to watching them with you. I know you find them entertaining,” Armin says, and he gives Annie’s hand a quick squeeze. “Besides, it’s a horror movie that’s being released on Valentine’s Day. How scary can it be?”  

“Hmm” is all Annie says in response. She observes Armin for a moment before squeezing his hand back. “I’ll grab some snacks for us. I’ll be right back.”  

Normally, Armin would tag alongside her and insist on paying, but his nerves are absolutely wrecked and all he can do is nod numbly as Annie’s hand slips out of his and she heads towards the concession stand. She comes back shortly with a large bag of popcorn drizzled with butter and an assortment of candy.  

“Ready to go?” Annie asks. 

Absolutely not, Armin thinks, but he fakes a smile and nods before dragging his feet as he follows Annie into the theater.  

It turns out, Armin discovers, that a horror movie released in the middle of February can be absolutely horrifying. The movie itself is shot in highly saturated colors, a stark contrast to the typical horror movies that Armin is familiar with where most of the scenes are so dark that he can hardly tell what’s going on to begin with. At least with those types of movies Armin can’t make out what’s on the screen and only the fear of the unknown can scare him. In this movie, Armin can see everything and even the most mundane scenes terrify him because the eerily vibrant colors on the screen are assaulting his corneas. 

The movie starts out like any ordinary coming-of-age college movie about a film major with a seemingly normal life going about his day. It’s only the oversaturated color palette and odd shots that linger far too long on characters after they’ve finished speaking that give an indication that this isn’t an ordinary movie about a college student and self-actualization. Soon after the film major finishes a date with his girlfriend, he goes to bed and wakes up the next morning only to find out that his girlfriend has been murdered and all the clues lead to him only he has no recollection of killing her at all. As it turns out, his girlfriends have a habit of being murdered and he’s accused of murdering them each time, but nothing can ever tie him to the crime.  

Armin feels queasy after the first murder. The camera focuses too long on the girl’s body, her blood spilled across her bedsheets and pooling on the hardwood floor. The bright crimson blood that fills the screen is even worse than the dull merlot that Armin is used to in gory horror scenes. As the film student descends into madness, unable to recall if he’s really at fault for all his girlfriends’ murders, Armin can feel himself spiraling further and further into a wormhole of despair. He tries to minimize his fear by watching through his lashes, squinting but not quite closing his eyes so that he can at least say he watched the movie if Annie asks, but it doesn’t work. His hands clutch at the arms of his theater seat and he finds himself descending into the darkness as the minutes tick away until it overtakes him completely. 

Armin wakes with the theater lights shining in his eyes, flinching at the sudden light. “Wha’ happened?” he mumbles, sitting up in his seat. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and is horrified to find that he was drooling.  

“The movie ended. And I think you passed out in the middle of it,” Annie replies. She doesn’t seem at all bothered. In her arms is a bucket that had once been filled with butter but is now being used as an impromptu trashcan to hold the empty candy packages that Annie had somehow finished by herself. Annie notices Armin’s expression of despair and humiliation and assures him, “It’s fine. You’re actually lucky that you missed most of the movie. It wasn’t that good. Not the worst horror movie I’ve seen, but it’s also not one I’d write home about.”  

“Oh my god,” Armin groans, burying his face in his hand. He slips down in the faux leather seat and wills the earth to swallow him whole. He’s never been an impressive person, but he at least never wanted to look like a complete loser in front of Annie. It looks as if he’s failed today. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to bounce back from fainting during a horror movie. Annie must think he’s a complete idiot. “I’m the worst. I just wanted to be spontaneous for once, to be cool like you. I wanted to be able to go with the flow and plan things as they came up instead of being a stickler for schedules and rigid plans. I just ruined this Valentine’s date by trying to be cooler than I actually am and I -”  

Annie pulls away Armin’s hands and leans over to press against a kiss against his lips. It’s enough to shut him up completely. 

“Wh-what was that for?” Armin stammers. He can already feel his cheeks heat up. He can still feel Annie’s lips pressed against his and it takes all his self-restraint not to reach up and touch his fingers to where her lips once were.  

“You’re cute,” Annie says. She sits back in her seat and observes her boyfriend to see if he’s calmed down. She tilts her head to the side slightly and says, “I enjoyed today even if you thought it was a complete disaster. It’s sweet that you decided to be spontaneous, but it’s not something you have to do if it makes you uncomfortable. I actually like how structured our dates usually are, and I love that you take so much time to plan everything.” 

“Really?” Armin mumbles. 

“Really,” Annie replies. She stands up as the credits finish rolling and holds out a hand to Armin to help pull him out of his seat. “Come on. Let’s get dinner together. I’ll take the lead.”  

Knowing Annie, she doesn’t have a restaurant in mind at the moment, but she’ll be sure to find one soon enough. If Armin were in her shoes, he’d be nervously scrolling through Yelp for the suggestions and scouring by ratings, recent reviews, and distance. His palms should be itching to pull out his phone, but he feels strangely fine with Annie taking the lead.   

“I look forward to it,” Armin tells her. With a smile, Armin takes Annie’s hand. He doesn’t know what she has planned, but he trusts that she’ll lead them somewhere nice by the end of the evening and somehow that’s enough. 

[divinemare]

✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖙𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘!¡ •ଓ.°

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ azrielxfem!oc

part one

✁・・・ there are some pains that can never be healed, and the heart it’s certainly one of them. he never thought he would see her again, he wish he never had to, but the war is coming, and sometimes a monster is needed to defeat another monster.

𓆝 𓆜 ––––———–––––———–┊⁀➷

The House of Wind was filled with an unnerving silence. None of its inhabitants uttered a word or dared to breathe aloud. The High Lord of the Night Court stared into the void, one elbow on the table resting his chin, the wheels in his head seeming to work at their maximum, trying to devise a good strategy, something, anything, that would help him save his family from the war that was coming upon them. His beloved High Lady looked at him with sorrowful eyes, to see him so concerned and to feel that tug of worry and sadness in the mating bond, twisted her own heart.

But before she could reach for his hand, Rhysand spoke, not lifting his eyes from the place at the table where he was so focused on. His voice was rough, deadly serious.

"We need her."

Feyre raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Who?" She asked down the mating bond. Rhys looked at her, his beautiful violet eyes troubled by so many feelings she couldn't place them all, even if she felt them herself. But before her mate could give her an answer, the light in the room seemed to dim eerily, as if the shadows had invaded it with an unnatural darkness. The air turned cold, a glow of rage could be felt licking its way to every corner of the room, it sent goosebumps across Mor and Feyre, but Rhys and Cassian just sighed, Amren didn't seem bothered at all.

"No," Azriel, who had been as silent as always throughout the meeting, hidden in a shadowy corner, spoke with a deadly low voice as his face struggled not to lose its forced calm. But Feyre knew that this calm was nothing more than his usual mask speaking. Anger, and something akin to resentment, were undeniably hidden behind his unreadable face.

That only made the High Lady of the Night Court ten times more curious.

Mor sighed, and looked directly into Azriel's suddenly too cold eyes. "Az, please, you know we do need-".

"No," Mor froze at his harsh tone, they all did, even Amren looked up from her fingernails at the shadow-wrapped male.

Mor did her best not to look so hurt as she sat back down next to Feyre.

"Who is this she?" The female was beginning to lose a little patients at not knowing a secret that everyone else seemed to know.

"A cruel, selfish female that we'd best keep very fucking far away," before any of those who seemed to think more coldly than the Illyrian could answer, Azriel did so between gritted teeth. Goosebumps ran down Feyre's body, she had never seen Azriel like this, so heated.

"Enough," Rhysand snapped at his friend, his face cold, so much like the High Lord of the Night Court the world feared, but still a gleam of understanding towards his friend softened his eyes a little. "Az, this war is beyond anything we had imagined or feared, we are going to need every ally we can get, and if that ally happens to be a very powerful female with an army of her own, then we will surely need her on our side."

Azriel said nothing, for a moment they all thought the spymaster was going to stop arguing, but they could well see —and sense— the fury still in him.

"She's our friend, Az," Cassian muttered hoarsely, almost as if he was hurting for whatever it was that had Azriel so angry with that mystery female, and testing the waters of his friend's anger.

"She's not my friend," no one in that room had ever heard Azriel lash out at Cassian with such anger. And the male himself seemed to realise it as soon as the words left his mouth, as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon his usual mask of regal calm, but found it was impossible.

Azriel was wearing every emotion on his face right now, unable to control them all and bringing them all out of the depths of his being. And he hated it, that much was evident, he hated the way the nameless female continued to affect every inch of him.

"She'll bring trouble, and we already have too much on our hands," he somehow managed to regain the necessary amount of control that allowed him to look at Rhys and not yell at him for the stupidity of this foolish actions.

"You never seemed to care much about that trouble," the High Lord tried to relieve some of the tension that hung in the air with some joking, and failed spectacularly.

Azriel's shadows stirred around him even more wildly, as if remembering things his master loathed to do so, as if responding to the internal war and all the rage he felt at the moment.

Mor rose quickly from her seat and rested a hand on Azriel's grim shoulder, giving him a faint, almost too forced smile. Then turned her head to Rhys with her hand still on the Shadowsinger’s shoulder.

"I'll send her a message right now, Mother knows how the sea wind will carry it and how long it will take for her to receive it and respond, better to have any slightest second of a head start," and immediately she hurried out of the room, she had spoken long enough for Azriel to finally settle his emotions, and in the blink of an eye, the male had disappeared, entangled in shadows and trembling emotions.

Feyre glanced at her mate once Amren and Cassian had left the room as well, now alone, it was time to trust the female with one of the best kept secrets of his court. Rhysand took a deep breath and looked into those beautiful eyes that waited patiently until he was ready to speak. He didn't say much, but what little Feyre learned that night, left her questioning how right Azriel might actually be.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

The sea wind hit her face with a salty breath, blowing the loose strands of her braided hair from side to side. She stared out at the water on the horizon, the vast ocean that had long since become her home.

"Captain, our maps don't show this city of yours, are you sure your contact isn't leading you into a trap?” An old, gruff, masculine voice drew her thoughts away from the vastness of her home, but not her eyes from it.

"Are you suggesting that I would have let myself be tricked into a trap?" She asked in a peaceful tone of voice, calm as the waters around her. And yet, the sailor froze in place and went completely pale.

"No, of course not my captain, I would never suggest such a thing."

Kallistrade stopped looking at the sea in front of her to look at the sailor with an amused smile, the almost completely white haired man who looked much older than her, yet was much younger, swallowed his anxiousness hard.

"Relax, Fuge, I've been to those lands before, and my contact is an old friend, his word is truth."

The human man bowed his head once and then turned his back on her to continue his work, Kallistrade returned to gazing at the ocean once more, letting out a faint sigh that was audible only to her and the wind. Her heart belonged firmly to the ocean now, but it had not always been so. It had once belonged to a city of starlight. Velaris had once been her home, but that had been so long ago that she had forgotten its streets, its colours, its smells. But not its people, never its people.

A call from shore rang through the ship, beckoning each and every one of its members to stop for a second and take in what lay before them, including their captain. Kallistrade held her breath for what seemed like a moment too long, and then, as the mountain and the city came into view, she felt the small tightness in her chest dissipate in a second.

"My dear Bright Nightmare," she shouted to her crew; humans, Fae and Folks alike, all of them turning their impressed gazes to their captain, a smile playing at the tip of her blood red mouth. "Welcome to Velaris, City of Starlight."

Kallistrade, or as she was better known now, Captain Devilsbane, had already been to many parts of the world, if not every inch. From the darkest places to the brightest. It was one of the things she loved most about being a pirate: one was tied to nothing and no one but one’s ship, one’s crew and the sea.

But now, as she approached the shore of her late home, she felt a strange sense of.... Nervousness? She didn't know what it was, it had been so long since she had felt this way that she had forgotten even the name of it. As her mighty, intimidating ship approached the Velaris dock, that feeling only increased.

From the short distance the Bright Nightmare was now at, she could already see their figures on the ground. Bat wings, tall frames and short frames, blond and black and brown hairs, powerful beings waiting for her. Her other family. Or at least, they once were.

A few members —those with the highest ranks— of her crew disembarked alongside her, all walking behind their captain. The sailors and merchants of the port stopped all activity, conversation or song to look at the intimidating ship and the even more intimidating female descending from it like a queen, but she did not spare a single glance at any of them, her gaze was fixed on those ahead, on the High Lord and High Lady, on the General, on the Truth Speaker, on the Angel of Death, noticing then that the Shadowsinger was nowhere to be seen. She was not at all surprised, she was well aware of the hatred the male must feel for her, so surely he would not be there to greet the one who had hurt him the most, even if she had really hoped he would.

Once she turned her eyes back to the High Lord, she crushed that feeling in her chest at the thoughts of the spymaster and forced an amused smile to her lips.

"High Lord," once in front of everyone, she merely inclined her head towards the violet-eyed male, who like her, was wearing a smile of his own. She then stared at the female next to him, and though she did not yet knew her, there was no doubt who she was. "High Lady."

"Do you not bow to your High Lord, Lady Kallistrade? Or should I call you Lady Devilsbane now?" The High Lord’s tone was that of an old friend joking.

A small spark in her chest made her smile even wider.

"My dear Rhysand, we both know I am no Court Lady, nor you my High Lord," anyone else would probably consider her words an offense towards a male as powerful as Rhysand, probably even expect punishment for her insolence, but the male wasn’t offended in the slightest, instead, he tilted his head back slightly in a genuinely amused chuckle.

"It's good to have your ass back, Kallistrade," now it was her turn to laugh.

They both hugged each other. Neither of them had realized how much they wanted that hug before it happened, and neither wiped the grins off their faces once they stopped hugging.

"You bitch! You had no right to make me miss you this much," not a second after they broke their embrace, a blonde haired female leapt into her arms, causing Kallistrade to stumble a little but again laugh and return her friend's embrace.

"Apologies for my busy captain's life," Morrigan laughed and stepped back a little so she could Kallistrade’s her face.

The last time Morrigan had seen her dear friend, she had been a thin female, with pained eyes and a consuming rage and sorrow. Now, she was confidence in all its meaning. Kallistrade was the picture of power, she carried herself in that lethal, silent manner that Mor had seen Rhys do in these centuries of being the feared High Lord of the Night Court. Her skin was now a caramel-bronze colour, surely due to centuries constantly under the sun. Her clothes, almost all leather and fine cotton of surely foreign origin in black and red, did justice to her title of pirate, and the leather hat on her head gave her an even greater sense of power. She was the captain, and she had no modesty about it.

"My turn to hug the captain," Morrigan rolled her eyes but moved so Cassian could get closer. Once the giant male was in front of her, he lifted her off the ground in a big, bone-crushing hug, Kallistrade couldn't help but laugh at the big, adult boy, and then he put her feet back down to earth. "What happened to your ponytails, you look scarier now," he quipped, taking the hat off her head and placing it on his, giving her a small bow with his head and making her smile as she took the hat off him, putting it back on and twisting a lopsided grin. "I cut them off, and thank you, that's what they all said before I cut their throats too," Cassian let out a big laugh and patted her on the shoulder as he shook his head.

"Now, now, stop it, you're making me look less scary in front of people."

"Oh, don't worry, with the pirate outfit and the big ass ship, everyone nearby has already shit their trousers," Amren said, a smile that could only come from a face so far from human on her lips, the captain turned her head towards the short female, her eyes, liquid and foreign, seemed more deadly than the last time Kallistrade saw her, if anything.

Kallistrade chuckled, but cocked her head to one side with a pleased smile. "That's good to know. And good to see you again, Amren."

"Likewise, Kallistrade."

The pirate turned her head towards the High Lady, the pretty female was looking at her with a kind smile, but holding her ground like a queen. "You must be Feyre, I've heard quite a bit about you, High Lady."

The female smiled, "And you must be Kallistrade, I'm sorry I haven't heard as much about you, as I would have liked."

"Oh, don't worry, Rhysand often likes to keep his best treats a secret," she spoke not with any sense of hurt, but rather with warm amusement.

Rhys smiled showing his white teeth, Feyre was certainly surprised at how at ease, how familiar he seemed to be with this female, and how the female that had previously looked so untouchable, so deadly to even approach, was now smiling at her mate with such warmth, it was almost as if they were brother and sister reuniting after a long time.

"You are no treat, my dear Lis, you are a friend."

"And you haven't changed a bit, have you?" The female raised an eyebrow, the movement, combined with that smirk, left a cruel impression, and Feyre thought again that perhaps, what Azriel had said wasn't entirely wrong.

Kallistrade did look positively cruel and evil. Luckily for her, almost everyone around her also had that look, she did not shudder at the sight of the cruel looking captain, but became even more curious about this powerful and mysterious pirate. Feyre had never met a pirate before, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't half as powerful and scary as this female was. She stood up confidently, and the High Lady glanced at her companions. The way they held each other promised nothing but violence, death by the swipe of the blades sticking out of the hilt of their hips, if anyone dared to do more than look at their captain the wrong way, and she was also certain that if Kallistrade hadn't probably told them they were friends, they would have long since tried to slit her mates' throat.

As if confirming what Kallistrade had said, Rhys mimicked that dangerous smirk. "Have I had a chance to tell you how radiant you look today? Of course, the sea looks wonderful on you.

Kallistrade laughed, lifting her head. "Idiot."

Then Kallistrade’s eyes stopped on a new and foreign face. A smile curved her lips again, amused at the sight of the female that radiated danger and death. "And you must be one of the sisters. Let me guess; you're the one who threatened the King of Hybern and broke the motherfucking Cauldron."

"It’s Nesta, Devilsbane."

Kallistrade raised an eyebrow and took a step closer to the female. She felt everyone around her stiffen, even noticed the new paleness on Cassian's golden-brown face.

"Only my enemies call me Devilsbane. Are you my enemy, Nesta Archeron?"

Nesta only raised her head further, her neck large and regal, Kallistrade remembered the years when she had to use the same method to try and defend herself, only for her, it never really worked, Nesta would do it in such a way that it seemed illegal to ignore it, but, after all, pirates aren't known for their followership.

"I think that depends on you, Devilsbane," a moment of silence in which everyone stiffened. Nervous of any next move that might happen.

Rhys looked carefully at Cassian so that he knew what to do in case of anything. The male already knew perfectly well, he'd already moved a few inches closer to Nesta. But then, Kallistrade burst out laughing, so randomly that it surprised everyone around her, but certainly being a more pleasant reaction than what they feared could have been taken as an insult.

"You and I are going to be great friends, Nesta Archeron," she smiled devilishly, a smile full of mischief and slightly wicked.

"We shall see, Kallistrade," the other female replied. Everyone else was a little uneasy about what to expect from both females.

"Very well then, shall we move forward, Captain?" Rhys stepped forward, sketching his best smile, to which Kallistrade responded with a nod.

“Lead the way, High Lord."

[the-chipped-cup-awards]

Full List of 2023 Chipped Cup Award Winners

And so we reach the end of the first annual Chipped Cup Awards for 2023. Thank you to all of the creators in the Rumbelle fandom, not just those who were nominees and winners of this year’s awards.  Without you, Rumbelle would not exist, and every single one of you, creators, nominees and of course our winners deserve recognition, and many congratulations. 

Newbie Spotlight

Shout out to the following Rumbellers who are among our new creators this year

@serenalyon @chick-with-wifi @somethingcleverbutinswedish @boopsterliv @kaylahastoomanyships @tickletorso @personinthepalace @poorobscureplainandlittle

Fic/Art Shoutouts

The following are some of the works recommended by members of our Rumbelle community.

Neverland, by @emospritelet

Always One More Time, by @bad-faery

Need A Lift, by Bar_Purple

Alone In My Tower, by Crysania

For a Good Cause, by @rowofstars

On the Shores of Loch Katrine, by @phoenixtalon​

Forbidden Loves and Stormy Nights (multiple authors)

The Rose, by Kayla L https://youtu.be/3jxBT2ctWUo

The Sounding Sea, by @mareyshelley

There But By the Grace of God, by Shepherd23

Sinners and Spinners, by marchionessofblackadder

Stolen, by @thestraggletag

In the Blood, by Megara Bee

Me and Mine, by wandering_gypsy_feet

Finally, under the cut, please find the full list of this year’s Chipped Cup Award winners.

Fluff: Family - To Drive the Dark Away by  @bibliosauruswrecks​

Fluff: Comfort - The Dark One Doesn’t Get Sick, by @shadowedoracle​

Fluff: Reunion - The Other Fork in the Path, by @jackabelle73

Smut: Kink/BDSM - So You Want to Build a Sex Room, by @peacehopeandrats

Smut: Romance - Come Together, by thatravenclawbitch

Smut: Best First Time - Red Lights by,  @rufeepeach

Smut: PWP - Rack ‘Em Up, by @eirian-houpe

Angst: Death -  In the Shadow of Others, by @peacehopeandrats

Angst: Hurts So Good -  Beyond the Door, by @jackabelle73

Angst: Misunderstanding - Our Way to Fall, by @nerdrumple

Romance: Best Date (Overall) - The Worst Date, by @jackabelle73

Romance: Best Courtship - One Thing Forever True, by @deliriumsdelight7

Romance: Best First Meeting - Click, by @jackabelle73

General: Best One-Shot - The Gold Fleece, by @eirian-houpe​

General: Best Series - Precious Moments, by @jackabelle73​

General: Best Novel Length - Witness Protection, by @eirian-houpe​

General: Best Short Fic - Rain, Ruin, Roses, by @kelyon

General: Best Holiday-Centric - Comfort and Joy, by @emospritelet

General: Best Remix -Those We Left Behind, by @peacehopeandrats

General: Best Crossover - The City that Never Sleeps, by @peacehopeandrats

General: Best Dark Castle - An Unconventional Gift, by @shadowedoracle

General: Best Storybrooke - Beauty and the Beast, by @peacehopeandrats​

General: Best “Missing Years”- An Unexplored Realm, by @jackabelle73

Special: Best Golden Lace - Hot Cocoa and Stolen Kisses, by @kelyon

Special: Best Woven Lace - One Word, Many Meanings, by @peacehopeandrats

Special: Best Woven Beauty - Prima, by @eirian-houpe

Special: Best Afterlife Fic - Morning, by @peacehopeandrats

Special: Best Drama - The Monster in the Storm, by @peacehopeandrats

Special: Best Supernatural/Sci-fi/Horror - Live Wire, by @kelyon

Special: Best Comedy -  The Rare Book Crisis, by @tickletorso

Special: Best AU - Original - Rain, Ruin, Roses, by @kelyon

Special: Best AU - Based On Other Media - A Full Imagination, by @peacehopeandrats

Special: Best Creature - In the Moonlight Deep, by @jackabelle73

Special: Best Unexpected Twist - Inheritance, by @eirian-houpe​

Special:Best Trope - Love and Happiness, by @jackabelle73

Events: Best Secret Santa - The Best of the Season, by @lotus0kid

Character: Best Belle - Love and Happiness, by @jackabelle73​

Character: Best Dark One!Belle - Dark Mistress, by @kelyon

Character - Best Lacey - Hot Cocoa and Stolen Kisses, by @kelyon

Character: Best Spinner!Rumple - Dark Mistress, by @kelyon​

Character: Best Dark One Rumple - Inheritance, by @eirian-houpe

Character: Best Mr. Gold - Received, by @peacehopeandrats​

Character: Best Detective Weaver - Doppelgänger, by @celticheartedfangirl

Character: Best Baelfire/Neal - Welcome to Storybrooke, by @peacehopeandrats

Character: Best Gideon - The Visitor, by @jackabelle73

Character: Best (Worst) Villain - One Thing Forever True, by @deliriumsdelight7

Art: Best Graphic Art - If Alternate Universes Exist, by @jackabelle73

Art: Best AU in Art - Rumbelle EF AU, by @serenalyon

Art: Best Fluff Art - Rumbelle x Cockblock Brigade, by @serenalyon

Art: Best Angsty Art - You Can Hate Me If That Helps, by @serenalyon​

Art: Best Video- Dance Me to the End of Love, by @jackabelle73​

Superlative: Best New Artist - @serenalyon

Superlative: Best Author - @eirian-houpe

Superlative: Best New Author - @serenalyon

Superlative Best Rumbelle Fic - In All Things, by @rowofstars

Superlative: Best Anyelle Fic - Manifesto, by @emospritelet

Rumbelle Lifetime Achievement Award is @deliriumsdelight7

[reallygroovyninja]

Friday the 13th Tradition

The wind howled outside, causing the trees to groan and sway ominously. Inside a secluded cabin nestled deep within the woods, Clarke stoked the fire, casting flickering shadows against the wooden walls. The warmth was a stark contrast to the cold chill that had descended outside, amplified by the date's ominous significance: Friday the 13th.

Lexa leaned against the doorway; her silhouette framed by the dimming twilight. "You know, they say this forest is haunted, especially on nights like these," she teased with a smirk, stepping inside and shedding her wet coat.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Don't start with those stories, Lexa. It's just a regular day."

Pouring hot cocoa into two mugs, Lexa handed one to Clarke. "You don't believe in ghost stories? Even when we're in the middle of the woods, on the unluckiest day of the year?"

Clarke sipped her drink, feeling the warmth spread through her. "I believe in what I see. Ghosts aren't real."

Lexa moved closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They say that a century ago, two lovers took refuge in this very cabin, running away from the world that sought to keep them apart. They promised to return every Friday the 13th to relive their stolen moments."

The wind shrieked, causing the windows to rattle. Clarke shot Lexa an annoyed look. "Nice try. But I'm not scared."

Lexa chuckled, sitting down beside her. "I just thought it'd be fun to add a little thrill to our getaway."

"You really believe in all this, don't you?" Clarke finally asked, her tone light yet inquisitive.

Lexa shrugged, her gaze distant, "The woods hold many secrets. Who am I to dismiss them?"

Clarke chuckled softly, taking a sip of her cocoa. "I've always been more grounded, I guess. While these stories are captivating, I can't say I've ever believed in ghosts or spirits."

Lexa turned to her, a teasing smirk on her lips. "Not even a little?"

Clarke laughed, "Not even a little. The world is filled with so many tangible mysteries, so many things we can see and touch. I guess I've never found the need to look beyond that."

Lexa leaned in, her voice playful, "So, if I were to say there might be spirits watching us right now, you wouldn't be the slightest bit nervous?"

Clarke met Lexa's gaze, her confidence unwavering, "Not in the slightest. Though I'd be more concerned about the living watching us than the dead."

The two shared a laugh, finding comfort in their differences and the gentle teasing that came with it.

The wind outside had picked up its pace, and the rhythmic drumming of raindrops against the cabin windows added a cozy ambiance to the room. As the tales and laughter waned, a comforting silence enveloped the cabin, broken only by the occasional pop and hiss of the fire.

Lexa stretched, grabbing a plush blanket from the armrest. "It's getting chilly," she noted, her eyes meeting Clarke's.

Clarke nodded, scooting closer. "Share with me?"

Without a word, Lexa spread the blanket open, allowing Clarke to slide under it before wrapping it around them both. Their shoulders touched, and a rush of warmth spread between them, a warmth that had little to do with the blanket or the fire.

Lexa's fingers found Clarke's, intertwining them naturally. Their gazes locked for a moment, and there was a world of emotion in that fleeting connection – comfort, trust, and an intimacy that went beyond words.

Clarke rested her head on Lexa's shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. "This," she murmured, "is perfect."

Lexa hummed in agreement, her free hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from Clarke's face. "Moments like these make me cherish the simple things in life."

The soft glow from the fireplace danced upon their faces, casting the room in a warm orange hue. Outside, the storm raged on, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Time seemed to slow as the two women snuggled closer, lost in their shared warmth and the serenity of each other's company.

The world outside faded, its significance dwindling in the face of the simple, beautiful moment they shared. The storm, the legends of the forest, the weight of the world – all of it was momentarily forgotten.

As the minutes passed and the warmth of their closeness intensified, Lexa found herself drawn inexplicably to Clarke. The soft glow from the fire played upon Clarke's face, highlighting the gentle curve of her lips and the way her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks.

Unable to resist, Lexa slowly leaned in, her eyes searching Clarke's for any sign of hesitation. But Clarke's gaze was steady, an unspoken invitation in her cerulean eyes. Closing the gap, Lexa pressed her lips gently to Clarke's.

It was a soft, lingering kiss, filled with the promise of unspoken words and shared emotions. The world seemed to pause, and in that moment, nothing else mattered but the tender connection they shared.

The initial brush of their lips was hesitant, a fleeting touch that held the promise of more. Clarke's hand found its way to the nape of Lexa's neck, drawing her in, while Lexa's fingers gently caressed Clarke's jawline.

Their breaths mingled, and what began as a gentle exploration soon deepened into a more intense embrace. Their lips moved in harmony, each kiss revealing layers of pent-up emotions and longing. The world around them blurred, and in that instant, all that mattered was the profound connection they were forging, one kiss at a time.

Their bodies leaned into each other, the warmth of their closeness intensifying with every passing second. The cabin seemed to fade away, and they were lost in a realm of their own making. The crackling fire provided a symphony of background noise, complementing the symphony of their intertwined souls.

Time became irrelevant as they explored each other's lips, savoring the taste and texture, their kisses growing bolder and more passionate. Their hearts beat in sync, a rhythm of desire and longing that echoed through the room.

Lexa's hands ventured along Clarke's side, tracing the curves and contours, igniting a trail of electric sparks that danced across Clarke's skin. Clarke responded with a soft moan, her fingers gently tangling in Lexa's hair, pulling her closer, deepening their connection.

Their bodies pressed against each other, aching to be closer, to merge into one. The boundaries between them dissolved, and they reveled in the intoxicating sensation of their entwined beings. Their kisses became a language of their own, speaking volumes of love, passion, and an unspoken promise for the future.

Lost in the moment, they surrendered themselves to the power of their desires. The world outside ceased to exist as they explored the depths of their love, their bodies entangled in a dance as old as time itself. Each touch, each caress was an affirmation of their affection, a testament to the unbreakable bond they shared.

The storm outside continued to rage, but within the confines of the cabin, there was nothing but tranquility and the all-encompassing love that enveloped them. The fire crackled and popped, mirroring the intensity of their passion, while the raindrops on the windows provided a gentle backdrop to their symphony of love.

They kissed with a fervor, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, a testament to the profound connection they had forged. Time flew by unnoticed, and the world could have crumbled around them, but as long as they had each other, they were invincible.

Eventually, they pulled apart, their breaths mingling, foreheads resting against each other. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, they found solace, understanding, and a love that consumed them. No words were needed; their love spoke volumes.

They remained locked in each other's arms, cherishing the afterglow of their union. The storm outside had lost its power, its fury reduced to a distant memory. In the warmth of their embrace, they found sanctuary, a safe haven where their love could thrive.

Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Clarke and Lexa remained entwined, basking in the glow of the fire and the love that burned within their hearts. The world could wait; for now, they were content to exist in this moment of bliss, where their love flourished, unburdened by the outside world.

As they basked in the warmth of their embrace, Clarke couldn't resist teasing Lexa about the tale she had shared earlier. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Clarke playfully nudged Lexa's side and quipped, "You know, Lexa, if we keep coming back to this cabin every Friday the 13th, people might start thinking we're the modern-day version of those star-crossed lovers." She couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of it all, but deep down, a part of her secretly cherished the idea of creating their own magical tradition in this secluded haven.

Lexa's eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and affection as she gazed at Clarke. She leaned in, her voice laced with playful sincerity, and whispered, "Well, if that's the case, Clarke, I can't think of a more enchanting fate. To create our own story, to defy the odds, and to return to this cabin, year after year, reliving our stolen moments on Friday the 13th. It would be a tradition forged in love and defiance, just like those legendary lovers of old." Her words hung in the air, carrying a sense of possibility and a touch of daring, as if they were embarking on an adventure of their own making.

Clarke gazed into Lexa's eyes, seeing the sincerity behind her playful words. A smile tugged at her lips as she imagined them returning here year after year, building a lifetime of memories in this cozy cabin.

"You know what?" Clarke murmured, "I think I like the sound of that."

Lexa raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. "You do?"

Clarke nodded, snuggling even closer against Lexa's warm body. "I didn't believe in ghosts or fate before tonight. But being here with you, it feels magical somehow."

She glanced around the cabin, the firelight dancing across the walls. "It's like this place was waiting for us, like it exists just for you and me. Our own private world away from everything else."

Lexa smiled, understanding exactly how Clarke felt. In this cabin, surrounded by the storm outside, it was easy to believe they were the only two people in existence.

"Then it's settled," Lexa said softly. "This will be our tradition, our retreat from the world. Just you and me."

Clarke tilted her head up, meeting Lexa's lips in a slow, tender kiss. When they eventually parted, breathless, Clarke whispered, "I love you, Lexa."

It was the first time either had uttered those precious words. Lexa's eyes shone, her heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Clarke. So much."

They held each other close as the fire slowly dimmed, cocooned in their own private world. The past and future faded away; there was only this moment.

Eventually, they fell asleep in each other's arms, still embraced. The storm outside had long settled, giving way to a clear night sky. A blanket of stars shone down on the isolated cabin in the woods, standing as it had for over a century, keeping watch over the timeless love within its walls.

[asterhaze]

Get to Know My OC

As always, thank you @doublegoblin for the tag.

Honestly, I love this OC and I really need you all to love him too. So here is more stupid sexy vampire (Aka Glen) nonsense from my WIP Masterpiece.

Are you named after anyone?

Well, I'm not sure. I suppose sometimes I am and sometimes I'm not. More often, I think I'm named similarly to someone I made someone think of. So, in a way, I probably am sometimes.

When was the last time you cried?

Being a vampire comes with so many benefits. I have watched nature be slowly chewed into towers of concrete and steel. I have watched as artificial light stole the night sky and swallowed the stars. I am stronger than any living man, yet I am helpless to stop the tarnished hands of humanity from strangling the life out of our planet. I have seen humanity gaze at the stars with every plan to abandon our home for worlds that we may never be able to reach in time. I see all of this with unchanging eyes, an ageless body, and a mind that will never mature beyond 25.

So on my birthday when I glanced at my reflection in still water and saw that I look the same as I did a few centuries ago, with no wrinkles to prove my worries or lines to show my fear, I cried. Because I'm so, so, so damn pretty.

I cried because I'm still pretty.

Do you use sarcasm?

Me? Never.

Do you have kids?

It's a possibility.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

I'm supposed to notice the same thing consistently? Well, that sounds awfully boring. Is there something you notice first about everyone you see? Is it because you're looking for that one thing every time, always first, then deciding the rest later based on that? Are you obsessed with eyeballs or something? Or hair color? Or hands?

What if you always notice eyeballs and then find someone who doesn't have any? Does that throw you off guard? Does that ruin your whole viewing experience? Does--

What's your eye color?

Navy blue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

I don't watch television, so happy endings.

Any special talents?

All talents become professions with practice. I've lived a long time and I've practiced many things. So, no. I wouldn't say I do.

Where were you born?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

What are your hobbies?

I read whenever I can.

Have you any pets?

No.

What sports do you play/have played?

Well, you see, I wait for a while until I think there will be a thunderstorm. Then I go outside with a small team, a few baseball bats, and-- I can't say that? I can't make jokes?

Fine.

No, I don't play sports.

Favorite subject in school?

Oh, sweetheart. I mean...to answer as closely to the question as possible without rambling...I'd say art.

Dream job?

I've never really sat down and thought about it. In my human years I just did what I had to. There was no aimless dreaming for things that I couldn't achieve. I just did and hoped for the best. Now I'm dead and money isn't an issue. But being unemployed with enough money to survive the rest of your life is a dream for a lot of people, so maybe that should be mine too.

[razieltwelve]

Conversation (Final Rose)

Weiss shifted her hold on Luna slightly as the baby girl cooed and made another attempt to grab her hair. The baby seemed to be absolutely fascinated by the contrasts between their hair, from Weiss’s pale tresses, to Ruby’s darker locks, and Penny’s vibrant red hair.

“Are you talking to the refrigerator again?” Weiss asked, lips curved up in amusement. “Because I’m told he’s a bit of a curmudgeon.”

Penny’s attention shifted from the refrigerator. “I was just checking that we aren’t running low on anything.” She patted the refrigerator. “And I’m afraid that the refrigerator doesn’t really have much of a personality.”

“Oh?” Weiss settled down on one of the stools. Luna finally succeeded in grabbing some of her hair, and she eased it out of the girl’s grasp.

“Yes.” Penny sat down next to Weiss and leaned over Luna. The baby’s eyes immediately shifted to her. “Developing a personality requires a certain level of... technical sophistication. The refrigerator does have some processors built into it, but not nearly enough to allow for anything approaching true sentience.” She grinned. “After all, we have a normal refrigerator. Things at the professor’s house tend to be more... advanced.”

“Like the lawnmower?” Weiss asked. Like many of the people in their circle of friends, she had encountered the infamous lawnmower. He’d sprayed her with a hose after she’d stepped onto the freshly cut grass instead of staying on the path.

“Precisely.” Penny raised one hand, and strands of light appeared, a holographic projection of the link she had to every available device in their home. “One of the gifts I have is the ability to interface wirelessly with other devices. My father and the professor saw fit to give me priority access to the InfoNet, so I can subvert almost any device that is connected to it.” She chuckled and dismissed the hologram. “Although in our house that usually just means I can make sure we’re not running out of milk.”

“That is quite handy,” Weiss pointed out. In her arms, Luna had settled. The baby was surprisingly easy-going despite how active she could be at times. “Does that mean you can tell where Ruby is?”

“I can.” Penny gestured again, and another holographic display appeared. “Ruby’s location is logged via her scroll. For obvious reasons, that information is heavily classified on a need-to-know basis to prevent her being targeted by potential hostiles. In fact, that information is kept specifically on the professor’s servers, so it is, for all intents, impossible for anyone to access without permission. Thankfully, I have permission.”

“You can’t hack the professor’s servers?” Weiss asked, surprised.

“No.” Penny shook her head. “The professor’s servers are protected by multiple layers of security including defensive artificial intelligences. She, Diana, and Raine are kept aware of possible intrusions at all times. I might, at best, penetrate the outer layer of security, but reaching any important information would be beyond even me.” The holographic display shifted, showing a map and zooming in on a particular location. “However, I do have access to Ruby’s location. I asked for it some years ago and was granted access following approval from both the professor and Ruby herself.”

“You’ve never really mentioned you could do that,” Weiss murmured.

“It was rarely necessary.” Penny smiled. “We have been fortunate. Ruby has rarely been injured in the line of duty, and her most dangerous missions have often been undertaken with people that we know personally.”

“True.” Weiss watched the glowing red dot that symbolised Ruby for a moment longer before Penny dismissed the projection. “Thank you again for being the one who gets up to handle Luna at night.”

Penny stood and wrapped her arms around Weiss. “You are most welcome, but it is no trouble. Penny is my child too, as you have said many times, and unlike you and Ruby, I do not need sleep in the conventional sense.” She shrugged. “True, a certain level of rest is beneficial, but I do not need nearly as much rest as a standard human or Faunus. It makes perfect sense for me to tend to her at night.” She smiled gently. “Besides, there is a part of me that enjoys that time alone with Luna. Perhaps I am selfish, but I treasure those moments, even if she is asleep for much of it.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Weiss replied. “I... I didn’t know if I would ever be a mother. My own childhood was not... ideal.” Penny stiffened minutely, and Weiss pressed her cheek against her arm. Those old hurts had scarred over, but Penny had - and likely always would - feel enraged on her behalf. “But when Luna was born... I just... I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I want to protect her from anything that might harm her. I want her to go through life with a smile on her face without ever worrying about what the future may bring. I asked Uncle Snow about it, and he says he felt exactly the same way when he saw Claire.”

“The professor said much the same thing about her own children, and my father has talked at length about his feels regarding being a father.” Penny nodded. “You know, I was worried that it might be a wholly biological phenomenon, that I might not feel the same. But when I saw Luna for the first time, I too understood the feelings that you speak of.”

Weiss stood. “We should head up to bed. I only came down here because Luna likes to go for a bit of a walk before she sleeps and for some reason she finds it soothing to be in the kitchen.”

“I would guess that the hum of the appliances pleases her,” Penny replied. “My father mentioned that my sisters often liked to be in the laundry room before they slept. They enjoyed the sound of the tumble drier.”

“Is that so? I’ll have to see if that works for Luna too.”

[snehagoogle]

the sky is lost

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

This is a wonderful truth

The Milky Way has become the center

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

And in contrast to the Milky Way

This is a wonderful truth

The Milky Way has become the center

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

And in contrast to the Milky Way

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

This is not a dream

It's true that this thinking is out

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

the sky is there once again

This is not a dream

It's true that this thinking is out

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

the sky is there once again

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

our universe

Which we know as Milky Way or Galaxy

It is possible that we or our ancestors may have never been able to see that sky on the forehead of the Milky Way Universe.

But friends, you will be surprised to know this

We and our ancestors have been seeing the outer sky of the Milky Way Universe as a circular line for centuries.

According to NASA, Andromeda is the universe which we call M31 and there is also a third universe which we call M33.

Both universes M31 and M33 are rapidly rushing towards our Milky Way Universe.

Is our Milky Way Universe also running away like the M31 and M33 Universes?

Does the Milky Way Universe also move?

We can measure the motion of a galaxy relative to a neighboring galaxy, but this galaxy is also moving. The universe is full of huge islands of stars (just like the Milky Way) and each of them is moving in its own way. No galaxy sits still!

First evidence of identification of a planet beyond our galaxy

NASA Science (.gov)

https://science.nasa.gov › exoplanet-discoveries › first-e...

25 October 2021 – M51 will have an exoplanet about 28 million light years away, meaning it will be thousands of times more distant than the Milky Way.

So this means that once we lose a place in the sky, we can never get that place back again.

Can any of our descendants look back at the sky above our foreheads?

Are we seeing the past in the sky?

When we look at the night sky, we're looking back in time

This is how far back we can see. The time it takes for light from objects in space to reach Earth means that when we look at planets, stars and galaxies, we're actually peering back in time.10 Apr 2024

When we look up at the sky we are really looking back in time?

When observing through a telescope, we are seeing light that left some place in the past. Light travels at a specific speed in space (186 000 miles per second). If we know the distance to the point of origin, we can calculate the time it takes that light to get to Earth. For example, the Sun is 93 million miles away.

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

This is a wonderful truth

The Milky Way has become the center

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

And in contrast to the Milky Way

This is a wonderful truth

The Milky Way has become the center

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

The sky is like the Milky Way here

And in contrast to the Milky Way

And in contrast to the Milky Way

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

This is not a dream

It's true that this thinking is out

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

the sky is there once again

This is not a dream

It's true that this thinking is out

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

many centuries pass

the sky is there once again

the sky is there once again

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

the sky is lost

every moment every moment

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

today here where tomorrow

turns like unrestrained

turns like unrestrained

Translate Hindi

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बद��� जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

एक अद्भुत सच्चाई है यह

केंद्र बने है वो मिल्की वे

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

एक अद्भुत सच्चाई है यह

केंद्र बने है वो मिल्की वे

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

यह न है सपना

सच है यह सोच की बाहर

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

यह न है सपना

सच है यह सोच की बाहर

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

हमारा यूनिवर्स 

जिसे हम मिल्की वे या आकाशगंगा के नाम से जानते है

हो सकता है मिल्की वे यूनिवर्स के माथे पर वो आसमान को हम या हमारी पूर्वज कभी न देख पाए हो

मगर दोस्तों आपको यह जानकर हैरानी होगी 

मिल्की वे यूनिवर्स की बाहरी आसमान को वृत्ताकार रेखा बराबर हम और हमारी पूर्वज सदियों से ही देखते आ रहे है

नासा के अनुसार एंड्रोमेडा जिस यूनिवर्स को हम एम31 कहते है और भी एक तीसरा यूनिवर्स जिसे हम एम33 कहते है

दोनों यूनिवर्स एम31 और एम33 तेजी से हमारी मिल्की वे यूनिवर्स ओर भागे आ रहे है

क्या एम31 और एम33 यूनिवर्स की तरह हमारी मिल्की वे यूनिवर्स भी भागता रहता है

क्या मिल्की वे यूनिवर्स भी चलता फिरता है

हम पड़ोसी आकाशगंगा के सापेक्ष आकाशगंगा की गति को माप सकते हैं, लेकिन यह आकाशगंगा भी गतिमान है। ब्रह्मांड तारों के विशाल द्वीपों (बिल्कुल आकाशगंगा की तरह) से भरा हुआ है और उनमें से प्रत्येक अपने तरीके स��� आगे बढ़ रहा है। कोई आकाशगंगा स्थिर नहीं बैठी है!

हमारी आकाशगंगा से परे किसी ग्रह की पहचान का पहला साक्ष्य

नासा विज्ञान (.gov)

https://science.nasa.gov › exoplanet-discoveries › प्रथम-ई...

25 अक्टूबर 2021 - एम51 में एक एक्सोप्लैनेट लगभग 28 मिलियन प्रकाश वर्ष दूर होगा, जिसका अर्थ है कि यह आकाशगंगा की तुलना में हजारों गुना अधिक दूर होगा।

तो इसका मतलब हम आकाश की किसी एक जगह को एकबार खोने के बाद कभी भी दोबारा उसी जगह को वापस नहीं पा सकते

क्या हमारा माथे का आकाश हमारा कोई भी वंशज वापस देख सकता है

क्या हम अतीत को आकाश में देख रहे हैं?

जब हम रात के आकाश को देखते हैं, तो हम समय में पीछे देख रहे होते हैं

हम इतनी दूर तक देख सकते हैं। अंतरिक्ष में मौजूद वस्तुओं से प्रकाश को पृथ्वी तक पहुँचने में लगने वाले समय का मतलब है कि जब हम ग्रहों, तारों और आकाशगंगाओं को देखते हैं, तो हम वास्तव में समय में पीछे झाँक रहे होते हैं। 10 अप्रैल 2024

जब हम आकाश की ओर देखते हैं तो क्या हम वास्तव में समय में पीछे देख रहे होते हैं?

दूरबीन से देखने पर हमें वह प्रकाश दिखाई देता है जो अतीत में कहीं छूट गया था। प्रकाश अंतरिक्ष में एक विशिष्ट गति (186000 मील प्रति सेकंड) से यात्रा करता है। यदि हम उद्गम स्थल की दूरी जानते हैं, तो हम उस प्रकाश को पृथ्वी तक आने में लगने वाले समय की गणना कर सकते हैं। उदाहरण के लिए, सूर्य 93 मिलियन मील दूर है।

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

एक अद्भुत सच्चाई है यह

केंद्र बने है वो मिल्की वे

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

एक अद्भुत सच्चाई है यह

केंद्र बने है वो मिल्की वे

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

होते है आसमान मिल्की वे की यहां

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

और भी मिल्की वे की वीपरीत में

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

यह न है सपना

सच है यह सोच की बाहर

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

यह न है सपना

सच है यह सोच की बाहर

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

बीत ही जाता है कई सदियां

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

आसमान वहां फिर एक बार

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

खो जाता है आसमान

पल पल हर एक पल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

आज यहां कल कहां कहां

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

बदल जाता है जैसे अनर्गल

[marmaladerising]

Sisyphus and Skin Care

A group of friends and I were recently talking about generational differences. They referenced something they'd seen explaining Boomers as mindlessly optimistic with an unchecked faith in old-school institutions, Gen Z as overall pretty pessimistic, understandable as we are bequeathing them a burning planet, and Millenials caught in the middle as aware of the failures of all the institutions that Boomers told us to believe in but hopeful enough, most days, to wake up and keep doing our little part. 

[Dear Gen X - I didn't forget you, but as you are likely used to, you didn't come up.]

I commented that we, Millenials, sound like Sisyphus.

For those not lucky enough to know mythological-obsessed tweens who keep you informed on such beings, he is the god doomed to push a boulder up a mountain every day- only to watch it roll back down once he finished. We had an accidental moment of quiet at the table, and then someone commented on the realization that I think was sinking in for all of us, that we would never see the better world we were waking up each day, voting and marching for.

Of course, we will see changes, some improvements, and some setbacks, but a world of not just equality—but equity and an end to the violence against our planet and ourselves—will likely be beyond the reach of our lives. So, all we can do is push our little rocks up the hill and hope they will accumulate to take us all higher as they roll back down. 

I live a weird, often hypocritical existence between conflicting states of believing that "consumerism is an epidemic actively destroying our world" and deeply enjoying creature comforts as a means to satiate the way the institutions I exist within crush my soul. Locked in a perpetual chicken or the egg, I struggle to live in line with my big beliefs, as I suspect many do.

It's why, while I long for the security and stability that money yields, I am terrified of the moral conundrum that I worry would come with it. How much is 'enough'? What is the line in the sand that it seems so many with wealth cross over regarding how one who purports to care about the world and its troubles uses their money? When does buying all organic to avoid harmful chemicals in your food, which seems reasonable enough if you have the means, slip into, "Well, of course, I need a vacation house/ yacht/ million dollar pair of pants," which I feel safe in saying are all unnecessary in comparison to the good the cost of them could yield. At what point does your wealth, which is power, demand responsibility to limit your wealth in service of the good? The unpolitical, unreligious, equitable good?

  I must admit in my most disconnected moments, as a working-class mother of color, I allow myself to fantasize that it isn't my duty. My role as a ferry through life for my children is my sole responsibility, or else my hall pass is to not worry about anything else. Surviving while shaping them to be self-respecting, aware human beings takes so much that any means to get to that end must be justified, right? So another mother's child must dig for minerals I don't even know the names of for phones made to break so I can call mine. If I can play such mental acrobatics in my conscious line of awareness, what are the mental moves of the billionaires?

Now for some skincare, I've been loving. 

In 2023, I started using face masks as a little treat. Nothing fancy, just the ones hanging in the skin care section of Target; I'd put them in the fridge, let them chill, slap one on, and instantly feel pampered. No mask was safe in my house for longer than a week, and I think I owe my daughters three masks each from slipping theirs on after lights out at night. 

I was obsessed and noticed how healthy my skin looked post-mask. Aware that I wasn't getting much bang for my buck buying one mask a week, not to mention single-use items are embarrassing, I started to search for products similar to the "goo" on the masks. I tried TikTok and Google, putting my writing skills to shame in having no other way to explain what I was looking for. I'd made my own hyaluronic serum after Target stopped selling my favorite Bliss serum with much success; however, this wasn't that. The logical thing might have been to go to a beauty store and ask, but my mental health wasn't up for an interaction with one of their resident beauty queens, so I just accepted that it was a mystery I'd never solve. 

That was until I was looking through Target skincare aisle absentmindedly months later and found this:

Versed Dew Point Mostiruinzing Gel-Cream. 

GEL CREAM?! What a concise way to say exactly what I was looking for!

And let me tell you- this shit is GOLD. 

I am obsessed. The scent is cool and clean, the texture is perfect, and a little—we're talking no bigger than a dime—is perfect for my face and neck. 

This is a desert island-level favorite for me, which led me to try the brand's dark spot remover, Versed Out of Sight Dark Spot Gel. A month in, and it has made reasonable progress on some of my most persistent scarring.

Another product in my current rotation is CeraVe's Hyaluronic acid serum, which I got because I love their AM and PM moisturizers. Before the Verse, I used the PM moisturized daily- and the AM on days I knew I'd be out and about. 

Honestly, I hadn't tried these before despite TikTok dermatologists insisting they were the BEST because the branding wasn't very sexy. I am a sucker for fun stuff, man- I'm not saying it's right, but Cerve packaging didn't look so different from Preparation H packaging, and I like pretty things.

However, after my daughter's allergist said the brand's Moisturizing Cream was the best for her eczema (since she has a shea, cocoa, AND coconut allergy), I figured I'd give their other products a shot, too, and I am SO glad I did. They do their job, and they do it well. The AM takes a little work/time to soak in and become translucent, but I mix it with my tinted CC or BB cream and concealer, so it doesn't bother me. I also use their Hydrating facial cleanser, which does a fantastic job of cleaning my skin without stripping.

The newest item on my shelf is the Neutrogena Hydroboost Body Gel Cream.

After how much I loved Versed gel cream, I wondered if a similar product existed for a full-body moisturizer. I have always hated traditional lotions because of how sticky, oily, or slimy they left me feeling, preferring to be ashy rather than any of the above. So, I was pretty excited to try this. It is everything I ever wanted in a lotion—it's lightweight, spreads easily, and soaks right in. It leaves a temporary residue on my palms that irritates my sensitive skin, but it goes away within minutes and doesn't deter my use. I've started layering it on my face at night before I put on my CPAP- don't judge, and it's cut down on my CPAP acne and line in the morning.

This isn't a sponsored post (though #target and #versed are welcome).

[potterandpromises]

The Many Vortexes of Autumn: Chapter 3

Unbeknownst to the Time Team, a 20 year old David Rittenhouse catches a stray bullet on an otherwise average mission. When Lucy, Flynn, Rufus and Jiya return to 2018, they find Rittenhouse annulled along with all record of Lucy’s existence. Flynn goes home. Lucy tries to distance herself. Fate has other plans and three mouths later, so does Lorena.

{Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} Also on AO3

Lorena had a plan. The plan involved getting her ducks in a row and emotionally fulfilling sex. The plan did not involve a lighting strike obliterating a power pole.

“It looks like a snake trying to intimidate it’s enemies,” Iris observes from the porch, as if of an abstract painting. “Or like one of those things outside of car dealerships.”

Lorena keeps both hands firmly on her daughter's shoulders, in case she gets any bright ideas like her father, or she needs to shield her from an explosion. A scenario which seems highly unlikely, based on the lack of urgency from the first responders. One stands a dozen feet from the dancing blue, hands on hips. Lorena can’t be sure from this distance, but she thinks he’s shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Come on,” she says. “It’s too cold and wet to stay outside in your pajamas.”

Iris could have satisfied her curiosity through the window. Lorena wouldn’t have let her open the door if she’d asked, but she didn’t ask, and Lucy was next to her, so she let her kid have those few extra steps beyond what made her comfortable.

Iris glances up at her, forlorn, and kicks halfheartedly at the concrete. “But I want to watch the firefighters.”

“You can watch from inside.”

“Fine.” Begrudgingly, Iris opens the door and stomps her unlaced sneakers on the front mat.

Maybe it’s perfectly reasonable to watch from this distance with no cover and she needn’t have given it a second thought. Half a dozen of their neighbors stand on their porches. One walks down the sidewalk welding a camera wrapped in a plastic bag. Perhaps her instincts are misaligned. There’s nothing like having your kid decide to run away— however temporarily intended— actually go through with it, and almost get shot to make one reconsider every little parenting decision.

Lucy stares ahead, too. Mentally elsewhere, she makes no move to follow Iris inside. She’d stayed out when Lorena and Garcia went upstairs, to check on Iris and change clothes respectively. Lorena taps her shoulder, finds her sleeve damp from blusters.

Lucy startles, a half-hop. Her fingers curl into themselves, and down her arms go, pinned to the sides of her ribcage. She looks up at Lorena, searches.

“Are you okay?” She keeps her tone light, causal.

“I’m fine, it’s just—” Lucy gestures with one hand, fingers splaying. Her other hand finds her collarbone. Her fist closes as if to hold a necklace she doesn’t have. “This isn’t normal, right?”

“It isn’t,” she agrees.

They step inside. Iris already stands by the kitchen window, as close to the action as the countertop allows.

“But it happened on our street, so I shouldn’t be surprised, right?” It’s a turn of phrase, nothing more. But she likes that word ‘our’ in Lucy’s mouth.

Something crosses her face. Discomfort. Lorena looked too long, maybe, too eagerly, or else Lucy noticed her own word choice and thinks she’s misspoken. Regardless, she looks away, looks at the floor.

Lorena reaches out, swipes her thumb over Lucy’s forearm. “I’m going to see about Garcia," she says. "I think we’re going to be down here for the night, or at least until he’s decompressed and Iris gets sleepy.” She hesitates. “You’re welcome to sit with us, if you’re staying up, but, um, change into dry clothes first.”

Through the window, emergency vehicles dimly light Lucy’s surprise. It’s a muted version of what’s so sharply familiar from those first few days after she got out of the hospital, when she needed a lot of help but seemed to expect none. Today, rather then unease, curiously is in her dark eyes.

“We would appreciate it," Lorena adds.

Is that, like, way too much? She doesn’t think it is. A weird thing to say, maybe, because there’s actually no evidence to suggest Garcia would appreciate it, based on his behavior tonight, anyway; although she knows for him Lucy’s proximity is like morphine for the recently impaled.

She turns towards the stairs, hindering Lucy's chance to reply, She moves quickly, misses one step in the dark, and doesn’t slow until she’s at the bedroom door.

Garcia sits on the edge of their bed, his hair ruffled, a small towel in hand. He’s changed into a burgundy turtleneck. Next to him, a flashlight illuminates the closet door.

“Iris?”

“She’s fine.” Lorena closes the door. “She’s downstairs with Lucy now. She was actually asleep when it happened. I found her sitting up in bed rubbing her eyes, wondering if she’d dreamed it.”

Instead of a bedtime, Iris has lights out. They made that decision a few years ago, in order to save their sanities, after she began to insist she didn't sleep, not ever, would only stare at the ceiling extremely bored until the sun rose. Never mind that Lorena woke her up for school every morning.

She told him that story, and others, on the drive home, caught him up on his life. Or, the life of his counterpart? She can’t always find the right language for all this. 

“Are you feeling better?” As much as she hated it, she hopes the impulse— the danger, the water— helped him.

He balls up the towel and tosses it into his clothes hamper. “More or less.”

“Good.”

He's attracted to violence and danger. He's good at it, too, really truly good. War makes him feel helpful, so he's made that vocation his fate. The fact his vocation consistently leads him to make choices that harm himself has thus far been the hardest thing for her to accept within their marriage. It's harder then the post traumatic stress and the years of Iris’ childhood he lost to Rittenhouse. It's harder then when Iris was five and Lorena felt ready to suffer another pregnancy, and he told her he no longer felt any desire for a second child.

She has accepted it, has checked in again and again and found she still prefers being with him over not. But on their way home, she told him he'd gone back to his old profession for a while, and he scoffed, as if the update were about someone else entirely. She hopes that attitude will stick, this time. Of course—she couldn’t ever forget— that focused helpfulness is also what made her want him in the first place, so.

She crosses the flashlight’s beam and stands in front of him. He gives her his undivided, tired stare.

“Lucy needs to understand that she’s welcome to stay. Ideally she’d hear it from both of us, but I’ll talk to her about it regardless,” she pauses, “whenever we have electricity again and she looks less like a pitiful kitten.”

He nods once, in acceptance but not necessarily agreement.

She hesitates. “I’ll leave the romance out of it unless or until you’re okay with it.”

"I could have handled that a lot better.” He flicks his tongue, looks behind her, meets her eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't."

She hopes Lucy dismissed whatever heated Croatian she may have overheard, but that’s probably too much to ask.  

"You were surprised.” She half shrugs, moves to sit next to him. “I thought it was best to make sure about her first, but I still could have told you the day I realized.”

“I’m not sure it would have made much of a difference.” With the flashlight between them, she watches their shadows alive on the closet door, watches him rub his face. “I’ll tell you,” he says, finally, “all the details. But I need us to be on the same page first.”

She leans back, observes the man she loves in profile, this man she thinks she knows so well. “Right now I want that more then anything else.”

He nods, takes a full breath. “Lucy and I never talked about before we were a team, the things I did to her, both intentionally and unintentionally.” He twists his wedding ring. “I was never sure if an apology was something she wanted or if I’d be doing it for me. I didn’t want to do it for me. Now I know I would be because I want to and she— she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to see me more then she has to.”

“I know this is a weird situation,” Lorena cuts in. “I know she relies on us for her needs to be met and there’s a certain power imbalance there. I have thought all this through. It might be a dealbreaker for her, but it might not be.”

“How about the part where she doesn’t like me as a person?” His mouth corks upward into a self-deprecating smile, his eyes a challenge. “Is that a definite dealbreaker?“

She narrows her eyes.

Lorena wants, from deep in her soul, to discredit him. The thing is, so much of her evidence against his viewpoint is based on what he told her about his and Lucy’s relationship before the world changed. It’s true that these days they don’t spend much time together. Most of their conversations, at least that she’s aware of, revolve around coordinating responsibilities with Iris. Maybe he’s correct now, and had previously exaggerated the degree of his and Lucy’s closeness. Maybe he loves Lucy and Lucy hates him and it’s just Lorena's misfortune to love them both.

“I don’t know how else to say it," she crosses her legs, "I just don’t see that. “

He’s unimpressed.

“You saw how much she didn’t want me to touch her.” His voice is low and strained. “You heard her scream when I tried.”

Involuntarily, she rolls her eyes. “That? she was overwhelmed, embarrassed. You know how she is. She thinks she should carry it all on her own. ”

A few days into her stay with them. Lucy, with an empty water glass in her hand, fell, or possibly fainted— Lorena never got a sure answer— and cut her palm open. Garcia went to her. She’d half screamed something, Lorena doesn’t remember what, but it sent her into the room and made Garcia step back. Lorena helped her up and into the bathroom, took care of the minor but bloody wound, and made sure Lucy hadn’t sat on any of the glass shards while Garcia swept up.

What's sharp in Lorena’s memory, is how Lucy made herself stop crying. It was almost immediate. Then she’d apologized, which Lorena ignored.

“She doesn’t want my help,” he says. “She hasn’t wanted my help in a long time. When she was recovering I saw how— how unhappy she looked every time I did anything for her, brought her a meal or clean laundry.”

“You think she wanted my help?" Lorena says. "It made her so uncomfortable, and not just the physical stuff. She hated the situation, she hated needing help.”

Lorena insisted on picking Lucy up from the hospital alone. She wanted to have a full conversation with this women who'd saved Iris' life, who she'd already agreed to let live in her home, and whom she did not know from Eve. Plus, she'd thought it better for Garcia to watch Iris alone sooner rather then later.

She brought Lucy a change of clothes, because most of what Lucy owned had been logged into an evidence locker somewhere and, not having an ID, she could not prove she was not actually a dozen armadillos in a well-made human costume and therefore could not get her possessions back. That had been awkward, particularly for Lucy. She'd clearly expected Garcia, not his wife who could barely be called an acquaintance. There was a rigidness to her exhaustion, a guarded quality that slipped away in the days that followed.

In a gas station parking lot, she tried to use her crutches and fell twice. The instruction she received at the hospital was insufficient and Lorena said as much.

An arm around her shoulders, a body to lean on; she needed a lot of physical help, more then Lucy was comfortable with.

She'd needed so much sleep, which, paradoxically, even the good hospitals barely allow. At home, Lorena let go of her a few feet from the bed, allowed her awkward descent onto the covers. Garcia left a bottle of water on her nightstand and they let her sleep through dinner.

She didn't see Lucy again until that evening. Mysteriously, she sat on the kitchen island, and looked like she was genuinely considering playing it cool. With a tight smile, Lorena repressed her laugh, and asked what she was doing.

"I wanted," Lucy bit her lip, "to take a shower."

"And…?" Lorena prompted, gesturing at her choice in seating.

And she'd been told she should first wrap her bandage in plastic to keep it from getting wet. Instead of asking for help, she had, naturally, decided to hobble out of the bedroom, across the living room, and into the kitchen. She'd figured out the plastic wrap was stored in the top shelf of the pantry, out of her reach on a good day. She then, naturally, decided to climb up onto the island in order to try and reach it.

It did not work out the way she had intended.

And it must have been excessively painful.

Had anyone explained to her how to wrap her leg? No, they hadn't. Well, years ago in what Lorena would have once described as another life, before that term took on a sharper meaning, she had been a nurse. It was easier to just show Lucy what to do then it was to explain it.

Obviously, she could not get off the island by herself without a searing jolt of pain. To gentle the landing, Lorena placed her hands on Lucy’s waist and lowered her to the floor.

Her eyes were shut.

‘Alright?’ she'd asked, and Lucy nodded. The pain hadn't come.

Heavily, Lucy leaned on her. Together, they hobbled to the bathroom. Lorena had her sit on the rim of the tub. She got the plastic wrap from the kitchen while Lucy pulled down her sweatpants.

She wants to think, as she scrutinizes her words, her memories, that when she came back into the bathroom, Lucy looked nervous. She didn't. She looked scared. Not of Lorena, specifically, or at least she doesn't think so. No, it was like Lucy didn’t expect to be treated well.

Because they were, at best, acquaintances, she offered to get Garcia instead. Lucy, with something adjacent to a chuckle, said no. Lorena suspected her answer would have been different if Garcia were again a widower, or if it had been someone else asking. Then again, maybe not, because they were both women and that was how these things tended to go. She did not read too much into it, thank you very much.

She tried to make it as normal as possible, tried to present genuine care as normal. What happened to Lucy, and what certain people failed at, Lorena has her guesses, her leads, although she tries not to assume. She knelt, wrapped Lucy’s thigh in plastic, and Lucy said she didn't have to. But, she did. She told her as much. She should have said more. Maybe that would have helped.

"She was very thankful, though," Lorena muses. "Resistant, but thankful."

“We used to share a bed.” It isn’t news to her. She snaps to attention anyway. “She used to let me comfort her. She used to let me in.”

“But now I’m here.”

He grimaces, closes his eyes.

She knows the reminder of her own death is painful, so she doesn’t point out that he doesn’t have a comeback. “You said it yourself: she was in a similar situation before and the guy didn’t treat her well, so she wanted space.”

“I just don’t think that’s all it is. I can’t think that anymore.” He rubs his temple. “We would have adjusted by now if it was just awkward or a little painful, but we haven’t.”

“Don’t you think I would see it, if it were so much worse then all that? I am biased and I don’t know the full story but neither do you because” —she pokes her index finger into his chest— “you won’t ask her how she feels.”

"Lucy's had a hard year and a worse couple of months.” Garcia takes her hand in his, squeezes it, and lowers it onto the bed. “I don’t want to make things worse for her.” His eyes flick to hers. “Tell me you won’t make it worse by bringing up what I’m going to tell you.”

“I know she’s had a hard time.” It comes out almost a whisper, although she doesn’t intend it. His jaw tightens slightly. “Of course I’m going to be careful with her feelings. And, by the way, if you don’t want her to be uncomfortable, you have a strange way of showing it.”

He flicks his tongue. The little crease in the south-east corner of his forehead deepens. He has the audacity to be genuinely confused.

“When she was telling that story earlier, what was that conversation?”

If he were anyone else, she would think he was referencing some sensual encounter to tease Lucy. But, if such an encounter existed, he would have said by now.

She asked him, outside the motel, what his and Lucy's relationship was. He said he really didn't know how to answer. She asked if he slept with her. No, not in the way she meant. They had shared a bed some nights, not every night, and not because there weren’t enough beds, although there wasn’t enough beds. He made sure to emphasize that. He made sure to emphasize that there was an attraction there, one he’d never acted on, and he’d made sure to emphasize that it wasn’t because of her that he didn’t act.

Lucy didn’t feel the same way, he said. He'd wanted so very badly to be honest with Lorena, and had admitted, unprompted, that they’d never actually discussed it. How Lucy felt hadn’t been something Lorena particularly cared about at the time, so she hadn’t pressed him for how he came about the information.

“She left out some details for my sake,” he says. “I didn’t want her to do that.”

She narrows her eyes, shakes her head, doesn’t doubt it. It’s the kind of fucked up logic he uses sometimes.

(Yet, he’s so emotionally intelligent when he’s not in pain. Funny how that works.)

“Your self loathing isn’t helpful.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you could use the reminder.”

She could argue with him forever. It’s like arguing with herself. But it isn’t getting them downstairs. Sometimes people need a hug. Sometimes they need a shove.

“You know,” she stands up, in front of him, and crosses her arms, “If I believed everything I’d been told about you we’d have never gotten together and Iris would have never been born.”

He inhales sharply, rubs at a mark on his neck. That thought is almost unbearable. It's more unbearable then the knowledge that Iris was dead. It pains her to bring it up, but she needs him to see her side, to see how it's the possibility of joy, that love that become essential, which he’s lived without, that he now wants to say is impossible with Lucy, thus making it so.

“Maybe she won’t be interested, maybe she’ll be horrified at the idea," Lorena says. "But I know if I don’t say anything to her I will regret it. I don’t want to still regret it in 15 years, still think it’s too late.”

Garcia tugs on his turtleneck as if it were suffocating him. "I did something to risk that,” he says, “to risk Iris never being born.”

“What?”

He twists his wedding ring, squeezes his knuckle hard and looks up at her, his eyes full of remorse.

“Gabriel. I saved his life, and I knew the whole time I was planning it there was a chance it might make me disappear, or end up like Lucy is now, and I did it anyway.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I would never do that today. At the time it seemed—”

“Like the right thing to do?”

He loved his mother, did not want her to know the pain he suffered, the pain Lorena could only imagine. So he did the selfless thing, saved the child in front of him and she shouldn’t be angry. But she is.

She fidgets with the fabric of her nightdress, means to pace, to process this, steps forward and hugs him.

His hair is still damp under her fingers, against her chest.

They breathe together in rhythm. The weight is comfortable. She thinks only of this, their bodies, and her relief that this is where time and space ended up.

(Her relief that he did not end up like Lucy)

He stretches his fingers between her shoulder blades, pulls away slightly. “What you said before,” he starts softly, “this is nothing like that.”

She lets go, fingers uncurling in his hair, and steps back to look at his face. “I have no way of knowing.”

She waits a beat to see if he’ll tell now. He doesn’t. She doesn’t really want him to.

“Do you want to be near her?” He closes his eyes and the lines in his face deepen. He looks, momentarily, like he’ll cry.

"Do you want to go downstairs and sit with her? Because I told Lucy we’d be downstairs for the night, or for part of it at least, and I let her know she was welcome to...”  she searches for a phrase that won’t make his eyebrows raise, “hang out, with us. You think she doesn’t want to be near you? Let’s see what she does. Maybe she’ll prove you wrong.”

That possibility sparks his interest. “Okay,” he says after a beat, “I’d like that very much.”

She touches his check, because she wants to, and because she’s happy as a clam. Even he can’t find fault with her sound logic, thank you very much. He covers her fingers with his and their hands puddle together on his cheek.

She moves towards the door. Her hand glides from his check. He follows.

“If she’s in her room when we get downstairs, you’ll say she was just tired and it doesn’t necessary mean anything,” Garcia points out.

She pauses by the door, looks at him over her shoulder. “And I’d be right.”

“Yes.” He gives her a bone-tired, rueful smile.

They trudge downstairs and the door to Lucy’s room latches shut. Disappointment twinges in Lorena's stomach. Still, there’s plenty of time. Lucy won’t disappear into thin air.

Iris sits in the leather chair, which she's taken and arranged to face the window. Her feet are flat against the kitchen cabinets. Lorena lets that go on account of her near certainty that this whole situation will literally never happen again.

Garcia walks over to her. “What do you think of all this, sweetheart?”

“Really weird, but kind of cool," Iris says. “I want to sleep here."

He looks back at Lorena. In the low light, she can just make out his raised eyebrows and the hint of a smile. Until now, Iris has only ever declared wanting to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. There’s a first for everything, she supposes.

“Just this once." For all it’s wired them up (pun absolutely intended) there is a beauty in the sparks outside their window. There’s a comfort in seeing the minor catastrophe be repaired. “And you have to scooch a little further back from the window.”

Iris does as instructed, pushes the chair back maybe a few inches. Garcia finishes the job, pulls Iris in the chair across the kitchen, nearly knocks the opposite wall. Lorena sits on the coach and tosses him a stray throw blanket, which he sets in Iris' lap.

Lucy opens her bedroom door, comes out wearing a fresh sweater.

“Hi.” Lorena moves to one side of the couch, and grins at her. She doesn’t try to hide it; the half light will soften it.

Lucy smiles back, and joins her.

Garcia watches, doesn't say anything but slowly meanders towards them.

Lorena turns to Lucy, pride like a purring cat bubbling in her chest. “We should all go to the beach tomorrow.”

Garcia places his hands on the back on the couch, nods. "Just to walk around, get away from all this.”

“To relax,” Lorena agrees. "We could go first thing in the morning.”

“I’d like that,” Lucy says after a minute, “just maybe not the walking around part."

Her voice is steady, but she looks so burdened. Is it by her injury, or the fact her body isn't bulletproof?

“We could bring a picnic blanket and just sit for awhile."

"Just sit," Lucy echoes, and shifts to the middle of the couch.

“Are we going swimming?” Iris calls from across the room. Garcia smiles as he sits down on Lucy's other side. Lorena reminds herself to calculate all risks, to remember young ears are always listening.

“No, it’s too cold,” Garcia calls back.

Lorena twists around to look at Iris; her crossed arms and her straight stare out the window. “No swimming, but we might go to the beach tomorrow just to spend time in the sand.

“And look at the dead things that wash up there.”

Lucy's hand flies to her mouth, stifles a laugh.

“Look, but not touch,” Garcia says sternly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iris says. “I know.”

In the half dark, his eyebrows raise like a flag, but they don't hold, and his expression quickly crumples into soft admiration. “That’s our kid," he says softly.

“That’s our kid,” she agrees.

Between them, Lucy leans back into the couch, tries to shrink herself.

Lorena reaches for Lucy's hand, rests her fingertips in the slight indent where hand and wrist meet.

Lucy does not relax into her touch. But without looking at her, she intertwines their fingers.

Delight sparks in Lorena's chest. The night air is heavy. Garcia makes no move of his own but his desire shows in his eyes, in the set of his jaw.

Lorena plays with Lucy’s hand, rubs circles in the soft skin of her palm, finds a dent in one fingernail. “Do you remember when we first me met?”

“How could I forget?" She stares straight ahead, expression unreadable. Garcia meanwhile, is made nervous.

"Do you remember going back to your motel room, when you and Garcia were ahead of me on the stairs?"

Lucy exhales. "Yeah."

"You lost your balance and he caught you," Lorena says quietly. "That mattered to me."

Lucy looks at her, searching. "Why?"

Lorena shifts her gaze to Garcia. "You told me about all the bad things you did." His voice had cracked when he said he didn’t know if it’d be right to go home to Iris, if it’d be selfish, if he could still be her father. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. "But you were so—" she searches for the right word and turns back to Lucy, "he was so attuned to you, so caring. That's not something to take for granted in a person. I took it as a sign."

In Lorena's experience, that level of attentiveness towards another human being is rare and not to be dismissed. Garcia had it for Lucy, even when he was staring at Lorena like she might not be real, even when he was in a fog, utterly bewildered she didn’t immediately believe his story.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

“Because I think I should have said it sooner.” She hadn't told Lucy how grateful she was to her. She'd been too focused on trying to alleviate Lucy's discomfort through pretending this was all normal.

Garcia leans into the couch, sighs.

Lucy turns and looks at him. Her hand shifts, and Lorena's fingers find her pulse point.

He offers a crooked smile. "No one should be alone in the dark, Lucy."

Lucy's heartbeat quickens. Her face is as unchanged as a statue's.

"Is that why you're here?"

His smile fails. Caught out, he says nothing. Lorena experiments, moves a little closer, doesn't quite press against her.

"I'm here because—" his voice cracks, softens. He turns to face Lucy more completely, his gaze briefly flicking to Lorena's. "You matter to me, and this matters to me."

Lucy exhales.

"I think we're building something really amazing." Lucy looks at Lorena, their faces inches apart. "What do you think?"

"I think," Lucy's voice is low, almost a challenge, "it could be better."

"I agree."

Lorena doesn’t want to be on the edge, sit on the fence, wait. She presses her hip against Lucy’s before she can second guess herself.

Lucy closes her eyes, opens them, and draws in a shaky breath. She leans back, tilts her head to look at Garcia. Something passes between them, some context Lorena isn't privy to, and the tension melts away.

She relaxes, rubs a reassuring circle into Lucy's thigh. She hears the firetruck drive away, watches the headlight-cast shadows grace the far wall. In the leather chair, Iris is still, her head angled to one side. Their breathing grows deep and even. There's no real reason they can't be together, Lorena decides. She considers how their necks will hurt in the morning.

"You were right," Lucy mummers, almost too softly to hear. For a moment, Lorena thinks it's directed to her, and feels validated.

[denimbex1986]

'All of Us Strangers, starring Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal, is a realistic and deeply moving love story, much more than just a queer romance. A reminder of the tenderness sought by the alienated creatures of the adult world, a film that comes to exonerate loneliness and, above all, the shame that accompanies it.

In All of Us Strangers , shown in Greek cinemas from February 15 , Adam (Andrew Scott) is a lonely gay screenwriter in his forties and the only tenant - or so he thinks - in a skyscraper on the edge of modern London. One night Harry (Paul Mescal), the neighbor and only person living in the apartment building, knocks on his door . Despite Adam's initial hesitations, a romance soon begins between them that gradually leads to a deep bond and allows them to navigate the complexities of their loneliness together.

As their relationship develops, Adam is overwhelmed by memories of the past and back and forth between the country town where he grew up and his childhood home, in which his parents (Claire Foy & Jamie Bell) seem to still live , just like the day who were killed, 30 years ago.

Drawing inspiration from the Japanese novel "Strangers" (1987) by Taichi Yamada, but also Olivia Laing's book, "The Lonely City", the new film by the British Andrew Hague, one of the most resounding absences at this year's Oscars, delves into the often stigmatized feeling of loneliness and tells a heartbreaking, almost hypnotic story of love, loneliness and loss . As the director explains: "The protagonist feels like he's the only person there is, because that's loneliness - it doesn't matter if there are 10,000 people around - you just feel it instinctively."

A strange thing happens in Adam's life: in a mysterious way, although dead for many years, his parents still live in his father's house and even welcome him there.

The characters of All of Us Strangers have a realistic misery and a familiar loneliness that works multiplyingly as long as it is experienced against the background of the modern urban landscape of the bustling metropolis , where it is easier to get lost than to be found, where it is easier to close than to connect, where everyone is unknown to each other and unknown to themselves.

Our story takes us back in time and to the sudden coming of age of Adam, when a tragic event happened, the most tragic of all for the psyche of a small man: the sudden loss of his parents-caregivers, which marked the end of joy and carefree in his life. A story that reaches today, the "ghosts" of the mind and the desperate ease with which we are often led to resignation and alienation.

The emotional burden of the film is carried on his shoulders by the main character, played by Andrew Scott (Priest of " Fleabag ") in a role of a lifetime.-

Adam is an orphan, unrelated and lonely. He carries the burden of mourning from his parents' accident and beyond, a burden that in a climate of denial he himself characterizes as "cliché", with that -always- beautiful and unsurpassably sad smile that, however, lights up his entire face. "Adam is a very lonely figure. It was a difficult role in the sense that it puts you in difficult areas. But it's also a privilege in a way," comments actor Andrew Scott about the character he embodies better than anyone else could.

“Andrew Scott was on my mind from the beginning. I admire him as an actor . And while it's not necessary with every queer role, it was important to me that the protagonist share the same sexuality as the character. The film has many nuances and I needed someone who can understand it deeply ," explains the film's director, Andrew Haig.

All of Us Strangers is full of images of loneliness in the city, with the film's imagery echoing the solitary figures of Edward Hopper and the anguished portraits of Francis Bacon. "These images look like people trapped and lost in something," said the director after his film won seven awards at the British Independent Film Awards.

“Living in a big city, you feel like there should be so many possibilities to connect. There are so many other lives and yet you can't connect to them," he says.

Some things cannot be described in words

The performances of Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal are extremely strong, while the director of "Lean on Pete", "45 Years", "Weekend", "Greek Pete" signs here a transcendent masterpiece.

Even though Adam's parents have been dead for 30 years, the burden remains heavy. When he decides to share it, Harry stands by him in the most "empathetic" way:

– Harry: This your mum and dad? – Adam: Yeah. They died just before I was twelve. – Harry : I'm really sorry. – Adam : Oh, thanks. It was a long time ago. – Harry: I don't think that matters. I can't even begin to imagine how lonely you must have been.

And somewhere there, Adam's deeply personal experience becomes universal and "clips" on everything that is covered daily by a veil of silence: How to describe death and terror, loss or madness of the mind? How to share the content of one's existential void when there are no words to express it? Where, towards the other, we can simply listen, sympathize and empathize with the fact that we all contain the same void, possibly come from the same void, experience the same anguish , have the same questions and seek similar answers. " Our roots are common. We all come from the same womb. Each person is thrown from the same abyss, struggling to achieve his goal. We understand each other, but each man can only explain himself," writes Esse to "Demian". How different is the abyss that separates and unites the protagonists from ours? From our own difficulty to let the light in, to make love a purpose and connect ? Love is the light / Scaring darkness away, yeah / Purge the soul / Make love your goal which can also be heard in the final scene ...

According to the director, 'All of Us Strangers' is a realistic love story. We add: “Loving someone doesn't mean all your problems go away. I wish it were like that, but it isn't. These two people keep fighting to get back in the room with each other." And it's one of the most touching cinematic love stories precisely because it's realistic , while obviously being much more than just a tender queer romance. Adam himself catches up with us when, unraveling the tangle of his life and childhood pains, he tells Harry that his sexual identity has always been one of many - not painless - additions to the "knot" he felt inside him as a child , especially from the shock of loss onwards.

The film is a dramatic "jolt", a virtuoso reminder of the tenderness, acceptance and caress that human beings crave as an antidote to the loneliness of the adult world and the unseen and unspeakable that hurt and alienate us . And it's a film that takes part in the larger recent cinematic conversation about humanizing loneliness and challenging social stigma , like Sofia Coppola's Priscilla and Luna Carmoon 's Hoard .

"I know what it's like to not care about yourself anymore"

Andrew Hague's new film is showing in Greek cinemas from February 15 and is one of those that you should definitely see. It's also, sadly, one of the most resounding absences at the 2024 Oscars.

All of Us Strangers is a film that penetrates you in a unique, almost hypnotic way and you don't easily forget. You may feel identified with the melancholic story of the protagonists, you may not, but what is certain is that it cannot leave you unmoved . It is one of the best films of the year, without exaggeration we could say one of the best films we have seen in general.

With a disarming naturalness and an extraordinary sensitivity that does not stray into tearful melodrama, the film reminds us of the need for tenderness and the power of love which, although it does not save, heals at least temporarily, while it achieves what it probably intended from the beginning: to destigmatize loneliness and , mainly, to exonerate the shame that accompanies it in adult life - especially after thirty.

'I know what it's like to stop caring about yourself' , says Harry to Adam at one point. It is perhaps the most characteristic line of the film, the most visceral and "cathartic" admission that connects the two heroes. Their common abyss.'

[tkaulitzlvr]

Hi! :3

I had an idea for a request

I thought of a tom x reader loosely based on "Hungover you"

like him and reader being best friends and somewhere along the line they spend a night together, but decide to forget it for the sake of their friendship (maybe they were a little drunk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows)

then many years later they're still friends but they realise that they really love each other

even if you don't write this i wanted to tell you i think your writing is amazing! don't feel pressured to make content, I'm sure all of your followers don't mind waiting for your fics because they are really amazing!

aa sorry for the long text! <3

IT’S YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: they say feelings change with time, but yours couldn’t have stayed closer to the same. it has been three years since you hooked up with tom, and despite your promise to forget about it for the sake of your friendship, you can’t ignore the way you feel anymore.

content: smut (kinda) & fluff

a/n: thankyou soo much!! i put a christmas twist on this because i realised i haven’t made an xmas fic yet i hope that’s okay! pls be patient w me bc apparently i should spend every hour of every day writing fics according to some people… just to be clear this is a hobby and nothing more. i don’t get paid for this LMAOO sometimes i don’t want to write and that’s okay - most people are really understanding so thank you for that, but on a more positive note merry christmas i hope u all have a happy holidays!!!💗

the faint smell of gingerbread teases my senses, mind beyond overstimulated with the incomprehensible blur of conversations around me - the amount of alcohol in my system clearly not helping. every inch of the living room is pasted with the not so subtle reminder of the festive season: warm lights casting their glow across the walls, garlands decorated with small red and green baubles, though the most obvious sign sits in the corner of the room. adorned with baubles in every colour possible, with tinsel (quite messily) stretched across its dark green branches, multi-coloured lights twinkling dimly around it, reminding me why i love this time of year so much.

the chaos of the annual christmas party that had become tradition over the years never became something that i had gotten used to, the dull buzz in my stomach (admittedly from the alcohol too) never going away as i watch my surroundings, friends laughing obnoxiously loudly whilst their hands tear away the intricately decorated paper, revealing their presents.

“and this one is for you.” tom says, snapping me out of my daze as he reaches underneath the tree from where he sits beside me, returning with a small box in his hands. he passes it over to me, a proud smile on his face as i study the wrapping. a red bow placed messily on top, the wrapping paper creased at the sides, the tape used to hold it in place hanging off.

“did you wrap this?” i stifle a laugh, remembering how terrible my best friend is at anything remotely technical, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“yeah, why?” he seems genuinely proud, and i decide to give him that sense of fulfilment, ignoring that a child probably could have done a better job.

“nothing, nothing. it’s great.” i return my eyes to the present, hands moving to tear away the paper. tom’s eyes remain glued onto me, excitedly awaiting my reaction. i open the box inside, revealing a gold necklace, a small locket in its centre. my mouth falls open, fingers carefully lifting the jewellery from its box, eyes studying it in awe before i turn my attention to tom.

“are you kidding me? it’s beautiful, oh my god!”

an even wider smile rests on his face at my reaction, his leg bobbing up and down nervously. he gestures to the locket as i turn my attention back to it, thumb clicking it open. tom and i. the picture in the centre shows tom and i, far younger, far more innocent than we are now. cheesy grins plastered on our faces, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders as we look into the camera, wrapped up in our huge winter coats - standard for the weather in germany.

“i don’t even know what to say i- thank you.” i smile, reaching over and wrapping my arms around his frame. he seems taken aback, though soon returns the gesture, his arms resting on my upper back, hand patting it slowly.

“you’re welcome. i hope you like it.” he offers me a warm smile as we pull away, soon turning his eyes toward the rest of the room, watching as bill unwraps his present from georg.

hours have passed, and even if i tried, i don’t think i could come close to counting the amount of drinks i’ve had. i am beyond tipsy, swaying my head to the cheesy christmas songs that play from the tv whilst attempting to sing the lyrics - failing miserably as my voice comes out slurred and inaudible.

“you sound terrible.” tom’s voice, just as slurred as my own, causes me to stop my singing, turning to face him as he sits beside me, finishing off the remainder of whatever drink he has in his glass.

“thanks.” i mumble, grabbing the glass from his hands and shoving the last few drops down my throat, no longer flinching at its bitter taste. the room seems to become emptier, friends either leaving or finding a bedroom upstairs to sleep in, the darkness from outside reminding me that it is probably the early hours of the morning.

“they’re no fun.” i roll my eyes, pointing to the final few people walking out of the room tiredly, leaving tom and i alone. he hums in agreement as i reach forward, grabbing the half-empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table and pouring it into my mouth, taking a few large swigs. the faint burning in the back of my throat quickly subsides, prompting me to drink some more.

“lets play a game.” tom says from beside me, a loud giggle leaving my mouth at his sudden request.

“a game? what are we twelve?” i laugh, shaking my head and taking another drink, swirling the liquid that is still in the bottle around. “what game?”

“i don’t know, truth or dare?” he shrugs his shoulders, clearly not thinking straight. though i am in no position to judge him, the two of us too intoxicated to be able to think rationally.

“there’s only two of us though. that’s gonna be pretty fucking boring, don’t you think?”

he doesn’t respond, only shrugging his shoulders once again, prompting me to give in. i sit cross legged opposite him, signalling for him to go first.

“truth or dare?”

“hmmm….truth.” i mumble drunkenly, laughing to myself as my body sways to the side a little, almost falling completely off of the couch and onto the hard wood floor. he pauses, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he appears to think as deeply as his intoxicated state allows him to, his eyebrows raising as he finally thinks of an idea.

“have you ever had a crush on anyone at this party?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, chuckling quietly to himself.

“bill, like four years ago.” i shrug nonchalantly, taking another swig from the bottle. if i were even remotely sober, i would have come up with some completely unbelievable lie, though the alcohol gives me the sudden confidence to confess, this a secret which i had silently vowed to take to the grave - until now.

“my brother? are you kidding?” his laughter is much louder this time, the room filled with it as he clutches his chest, eyes squeezing shut. at one point, i swear i see tears fall down his cheeks, my hand reaching to swat his chest, the effort pathetic as the alcohol appears to take away every ounce of physical strength.

we continue the game for another thirty minutes, the questions becoming more senseless as time passes, the dares even more abnormal as i sit with my small mini skirt off of my body and on the ground somewhere, tom now shirtless. the sober versions of ourselves would be watching in pure shame, though in the moment, this is the funniest thing we have ever done, drunken laughter pouring from our lips at every word that we say.

“your turn.” tom begins. “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

i expect him to think deeply about what to do, about ways to humiliate me in the worst way possible, taking advantage of the fact that he is in control, possessing the ability to make me do whatever his heart desires. but not only is he much quicker this time, his mind seemingly made up the second i had uttered the four letter word, his reply is one that i could never had been prepared for. though my drunken state brushes it off, unable to question, let alone refuse his demand.

“i dare you…to kiss me.”

i giggle quietly at his statement, widening my eyes in forged surprise and tucking my hair behind my ears, tom’s lips curved into a soft smirk as i slowly shuffle toward him. my legs wrap around his waist, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as his own rest around my waist. our faces are inches apart, small chuckles still leaving our lips as i situate myself comfortably, losing my balance and falling forward, my body collapsing onto his chest.

“whoops.” i mumble, bursting into laughter as tom does the same, trying to pick me back up as his hands place themselves onto my shoulders, pushing me upward so that i sit on his lap once again. though once i regain my balance, the small smile that rests on tom’s lips soon disappears, the laughter replaced by a heavy silence, thick with unexpected tension. his hands rest more firmly on my waist now, face seeming to get closer and closer to my own, so close that his breath fans onto my face, lips ghosting just below my nose.

his eyes look into mine, darkened and filled with lust, almost questioning whether he should make the move. the alcohol is still in charge, still the thing that fuels both tom’s and my own decision making, but behind the drunkenness, i see the real tom, and somewhere amidst the blur of alcohol and lust, i can tell that he is fighting with himself. though after a few seconds, the decision is made, seemingly with little debate as he pushes his lips onto mine harshly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. the kiss is sloppy, messy, irrational, everything that it should be, fuelled by alcohol and unforeseen desire. but whether it is the bottle of vodka i had just drank talking, or the genuine need that only grows as each second passes, it feels right.

and tom’s actions show that he feels the same way. from our clothes being impatiently pulled off of our bodies, lips tangled in a heated mess, to his dick being inside me, something within me tells me that this should be happening, even if our drunken state is the cause.

“fuck…you feel so good.” he groans from above me, maintaining a steady pace, his words still slurred. sweat lines his body, starting at his forehead, his dreads resting on his shoulders, trailing down to his torso. and as i watch him move in and out of me, i take a second to admire his body - his skin, biceps, the way each muscle flexes slightly when he thrusts into me, my mind wondering how it had taken me this long to realise how hot he is. sure, i had known that he was attractive, his overly obsessive fans made that clear enough, but it had taken him being totally naked on top of me to realise that they have been right this entire time, and god, i want nothing more than this moment to last forever.

“i’m getting close.” he mumbles from above me, his head moving to rest in the crook of my neck, placing rough kisses there as his tongue moves across the skin in place of his mouth. when his dick begins to twitch inside of me, i soon realise that it can’t last forever, that in a few minutes, or when the alcohol wares off, we will have to go back to normal, to act like he didn’t just fuck me - his best friend of over ten years.

his head returns from my shoulder, a loud groan escaping his lips as i feel him shoot his cum inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut, lips slightly parted as he curses under his breath. and it doesn’t take long for my own release to follow, the loud moan that sounds from the back of my throat muffled by tom’s lips as he presses them onto my own, mumbling a quick ‘shhh’ against me. he rides out our highs, pulling out after a minute and collapsing on top of me, tired and breathless. we lay in silence, tom occasionally pressing quick kisses onto my shoulder, our bodies completely spent.

despite how little we speak about it, that night stays clear in my memory, able to remember it like it was yesterday, even though today marks three years since we did something that should have changed our friendship forever. sure, it was awkward for a little while after, but after the mutual decision to put it behind us ‘for the sake of our friendship’, blaming it purely on the alcohol, we had moved on, maintaining our close bond that had existed since we were kids. it seemed to special to ruin, too important to destroy for the sake of the possibility of falling in love, knowing that it would be too risky to pursue something, the small yet very real chance that it wouldn’t work out holding the ability to ruin our friendship forever.

but god, i would be stupid to deny the way my heart tugs at its strings whenever i see him, whenever i hug him in a way that is strictly platonic, wondering if somewhere he feels the same way as i do.

“you okay?” a voice snaps me out of my train of thought, my head turning to its source as tom’s brown eyes look into my own, a small smile on his face. i quickly nod my head, turning away and focusing on gustav as he takes a present from under the tree, flashing me a smile once he realises that it is from me.

tom doesn’t give in though, his voice interrupting my own from beside me as i am in the process of listening to gustav, a smile on his face whilst he thanks me for his gift.

“you sure?” tom asks, his voice low and uncertain, expression bordering confused when i forge a smile, reassuring him that i am fine, knowing that i am far from it, the reminder that three years ago things were so different still acting as a raw wound, despite how easily tom had seemed to get over it.

“no you’re not. come on.” he takes my hand, guiding me out of the room as i turn around, hoping that nobody had noticed, sighing in relief when i realise that they are all immersed in their own conversations. tom guides me into the kitchen, moving me so that my body is against the counter, his own in front of me, stopping me from leaving.

“what are you doing? the party is out there, bill was about to open the gift i got for him.” i furrow my eyebrows, attempting to leave the kitchen, though tom’s hand is quick to place itself on my wrist gently, pulling me back to rest against the counter.

“i can tell when you’re not okay. something is bothering you. what’s wrong?” his voice is much more serious this time, no longer holding that playful tone that it had before.

i sigh, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground, fingers reaching to play with the material of my christmas sweater, trying anything to distract myself from the tears that begin to pool at my waterline. i know that i can’t escape from this now, becoming aware that even if i attempt to lie, tom will see right through it.

“come on, you can talk to me you know? i’m your best friend-”

“that’s the fucking problem.” i mumble, silently cursing myself the second the words leave my mouth, praying that they were quiet enough for tom to not understand them. though when his eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, i quickly realise that he got every word. his mouth opens to speak, only for a few seconds as he closes it again, mind working faster than it ever has before, working to think of a response.

“what do you mean?” he asks eventually, my eyes meeting his own. his gaze softens when he registers the tears that fall down my cheeks. he reaches forward, his arms trying to wrap around my frame and pull me into a hug, though i refuse his embrace, not able to handle the emotional torture of another hug, knowing that it will never mean anything more than means of comfort, rather than an act of affection out of love. his eyebrows furrow in confusion when i push him away gently, his tongue moving outward to swipe against his lip ring, fingers adjusting the bandana that adorns his jet black braids - the one thing that is different about him since that day.

“why do you act like nothing happened?” i ask, my voice low and weak, eyes finally finding the courage to meet his own. he stays silent, knowing exactly what i am talking about without even mentioning it directly. because no matter how much we act like it never happened, i know that both of us will never be able to forget it, even if he acts like he has. i take his silence as i sign to continue, taking the opportunity to get this off of my chest. “you act like that night never happened, and it fucking infuriates me. you speak to me, you look at me, you hug me, but it’s not the same anymore. you can try and act like you don’t remember it, but i fucking can’t. i can’t sit back anymore and act normal around you knowing that we did it. and then you stand here and call me your fucking friend. it kills me that you don’t even care, that it means nothing at all to you-”

he cuts me off, though not with his voice. not with a quick remark, not with a reminder that we are just friends, that we can never be anything more; but with his lips, pressing them to my own. they are soft, just as i had remembered them, the coldness of his lip ring just as addictive as it had been the first time. and though it only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, it still ignites that spark within me that had been lifeless since we had promised to forget about what had happened. his forehead rests against mine, hands pulling my body against his own as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“who said that i don’t care about what happened, hm?” his face remains inches away from mine, his hands reaching upward to wipe the tears that rest on my cheeks. he doesn’t pull back, instead pressing my body against his once again. “i think about it, all the time. and every single time, i think about what could have happened if we didn’t push it aside, if we actually acted on it. but then i remind myself that you didn’t want that, and i can’t lose you. so i just decided to not speak about it. but don’t think for a second that i forgot.”

i stay silent, unsure of what to say, trying to fathom what his confession truly means. is he saying that he feels the same way, or was the kiss out of pity, one to stop the tears that continue to fall?

“what are you saying?” i whisper, pursing my lips and looking at the floor, breaking eye contact once again. though it is only short lived, my eyes soon returning to look at his own as he lifts my face up, his hands now resting on either side of it.

“i’m saying that i don’t want to be just your best friend anymore. i don’t think my heart can handle that.”

my eyes widen, mouth opening to speak, finding myself at a loss for words as no sound escapes. once again, tom’s actions seem to speak louder than any words would have been able to, his arms scooping me up as he kisses me once again. it is gentler this time, lacking the lust behind that it had the first time we had kissed. it holds much more meaning behind it than just drunken desire. this time, it carries the silent promise of every single thing that i have ever wanted since that night - love.

“you know…i wasn’t totally shitfaced when i asked you to kiss me that night.” he says once he pulls away, a playful smile now tugging on his lips. i shake my head, pulling him by his shirt and kissing him once again. he smiles into the kiss, quickly reciprocating as he moves his lips against my own.

“oh my god.”

i quickly push tom away, his lips pink and swollen as he turns around, my eyes widening once i see bill standing in the doorway of the kitchen with some empty plates in either hand. his mouth is wide open, body standing completely still in shock.

“i’ll just…leave these here.” he quickly says, rushing toward the sink and practically throwing the plates in there, shooting me a quick glance before leaving.

i look upward at tom, who seems to be unfazed by the situation, his thumb reaching upward to swipe at the lipgloss that had stained his lips. he meets my gaze, shrugging his shoulders and wrapping his arm around me, pulling my body to rest against his own, our chests together.

“at least we don’t have to figure out a way to tell everybody else. bill would have told them all by now.”

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[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort - Chapter 34 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

Fiona kicks away the books pooling around our ankles.

The action stirs up a flurry of dust.

It spreads into the air, its spindly fingers reaching into our throats and causing us both to cough.

Fiona swats away the particles while covering her mouth with the end of her sleeve.

Then she waves for me to follow her.

I swipe up my backpack and dust off my jeans.

The remaining shreds of sunlight are fading beyond the horizon and a heavy sense of panic settles against my chest as I realize we need to get home soon.

Brayden said he and Kelly would be back tonight.

He never specified the time but I can't imagine either of them will be overly pleased if they show up and we're both gone.

"I wish we had more time," I mutter with a sigh.

"If we could find even one book about the Secondaries, I think it'd make a world of difference in helping us find them."

Fiona climbs over another piles of books.

"I know. If we have another chance to come out here, we will. But we need to get going, Finn," her voice becomes strained, so thick with emotion that the last few words become caught in her throat.

She's right, if we don't get home before Brayden and Kelly do, finding the first clue to Brayden's past will be for nothing.

He'll be furious with the both of us and won't listen to a thing I have to say about it.

I nod in agreement and grab her hand without another word.

She follows a step behind me and I navigate the two of us as best I can with the minimal, fading light.

The musty smell of books taunts the chilling air.

By the time we clear the library, I'm happy to be rid of it.

My happiness is short-lived, however, when the smell of stale blood and rotting flesh take its place.

I grimace as I try to squint into the darkness.

The sun dips below the horizon, and the two of us huddle near the end of the walkway leading to the street.

The first glimpses of moonlight flicker from the night sky, bright enough to illuminate the shards of glass littering the street.

Each piece shimmers against the pale light, a macabre sight spilled across the floor of this broken town.

"We should have left earlier," Fiona whispers behind me.

I nod in agreement.

"Just stay close. We'll go nice and slow."

She clutches tightly to my side and the two of us weave through the path of destruction in silence.

Small pieces of glass crunch beneath my feet.

Fiona's right. We should have left earlier.

The stagnant, still air feels heavier than it did this afternoon.

Fear creeps through my temples and around my eyes, creating invisible blinders of trepidation with every step I take.

My lungs burn from the cold.

All I want to do is scream against the pain, yelling for Brayden to get us from this place.

But I can't.

For all I know, Brayden is still hundreds of miles away.

I swallow hard and keep moving.

The journey back to the house is taking longer than the trip out here.

It's like we're moving in slow motion.

Even our feet seem to be hesitant as we continue to move forward.

"Finn."

Fiona's hold tightens around my hand.

She jerks on my arm, forcing me to stop abruptly in the middle of the road.

She points forward and a little to the left, her finger trembling and her eyes widening in disbelief.

I follow her silent direction, squinting into the darkness until my eyes settle on a still figure sprawled across the sidewalk.

It's a man, one of the many I recognize from our trip to the library.

He's another victim to the ruthless carnage that took place in this town.

But as I continue to stare at him, I notice the ragged rise and fall of his chest.

He's alive.

My pulse quickens and I take a diffident step forward.

The glass seems to shatter the silence,and I swear I hear a whispered plea leaving the man's lips.

My eyes never leaving the man's lips.

My eyes never leave him as I lean back to whisper to Fiona.

"Should I go to him?"

"Finn, it's too dangerous," she whispers frantically.

"There's no way the two of us could carry him back."

I purse my lips, my moral compass quivering with indecision.

She's right, she's pregnant and I'm far too weak to carry a grown man's body on my back for another mile.

I shrug off her hold and turn to look at her.

"I have to at least talk to him," I say.

Fiona stares up at me, her eyes pleading.

"Finn..."

I side-step the glass as best I can, closing the distance between me and the man.

The closer I get, the more I can feel my chest tighten in anticipation.

The tips of my ears tingle from the cold and when I shudder, I'm not sure if it's from fear or from the cold.

My breath becomes caught in my throat when I stand beside him.

The man takes in a haggard breath, his limbs either too stiff or too weak to move.

His bottom lip is chapped from the cold, the skin so shredded it looks as is if its been put through a cheese grater.

I glance around and slowly lower to squat beside him.

"Hey," I whisper. "C-can you hear me?"

My trembling voice belies my attempt of courage but it's enough to cause the man's eyes to flutter open briefly before closing again.

He takes in another ragged breath, this one more promising than the last.

When he exhales, a scratching noise rumbles against his throat.

He's trying to talk.

"Don't talk," I say quietly.

"We're going to get help. Just relax and try to not use much energy. We'll be back with help as soon as we can."

The man groans in return, a pained plea that makes my heart sink.

Leo always told me stories about the cruelty of vampires.

A piece of me thought he was just being biased but this town is proof enough of it.

Seeing a man who is still suffering from their violence, however, jades my view of them even more.

"I'm going to get help," I say again.

"R..."

I lean down closer to his ear.

He trembles in an attempt to speak and it's clear despite my words of reassurance, he is trying to convey a message to me.

He groans in pain before trying again.

This time his body tenses as he takes a deep breath, forcing his lips to form the words pressing on his mind.

"Run..."