#I like how whenever I come back it’s always a drawing of Alexis

[spookybeandoodle]

[trips]

Oh no! I dropped my Alexis! I hope someone doesn’t pick it up and look at it and see my doodles of little ole Alexis! That would be so so so bad-

But in all seriousness here she is! Sorry they are messy I honestly really rushed these last night cause I was sleepy!

[the-hero-story]

Because the html formatting doesn't work on mobile (not even on a browser, I checked), I'm posting the whole story here too :)

We were married in the spring. 

No one liked the idea of a spring wedding, least of all my husband, who complained about it as we drove away from the cathedral. It was rotten in Moscow in April, and worse in Petersburg, where the snow hadn’t even begun to melt. I had wanted the wedding at Voronetskoye, the old estate, the lynchpin of our world, but my husband refused: staying in Moscow would be impractical, and God forbid, unfashionable. Because it was his reputation at stake, and not mine, I agreed. 

That summer, after our honeymoon in Paris, we came back to Russia and met my father at Voronetskoye. My father worked in Petersburg, but since my mother died he spent most of his time at the estate, reading and drinking. It was a beautiful place to grieve, a manor surrounded by acres of lush green fields. We arrived in the evening, with an hour to spare; my father’s carriage waited for us at the station. 

If there was any time when the estate looked most perfect, it was, perhaps, evening in early summer. I never looked forward to these trips, yet whenever I came to Voronetskoye I felt as if I was returning home after many years away. It was always frozen in time, fading family portraits hanging on the walls and old heirlooms hiding under canopied beds. My father hadn’t wanted to make it a time capsule; the time had just passed, and the dust had eaten away at everything it could find. 

My husband hated it there. Whenever he left Petersburg he was like a sailor on land. He needed the city air: it was fast, it was relevant, there was always something to do. 

“We’ll go back Saturday,” he had said on the train to Moscow, pinching his mustache as he liked to.

“Father asked us to stay the week. We talked about it earlier today, Vasya. Please, just this one time — you know how lonely he is down there.”

“The man doesn’t own you.”

“Neither do you.” 

Vasily rolled his eyes. “It’s exactly this kind of talk that makes me—”

At that moment the attendant came through with the baby, and we dropped the argument. 

When we got to the manor, it was empty and silent, practically deserted. For a minute, as I climbed the double staircase, suitcase in hand, I thought my father had died. Then I heard my brother’s voice, coming from the drawing room. 

“Kitty,” he called, that old familiar sneer.

“Where’s Father?”

“Upstairs.” Alexis emerged in the doorway, his pale face framed by a mess of black hair. He was flushed, dressed hastily in his robe. “I thought you were in Petersburg.”

“We were. Don’t you have a concert tonight?”

He pulled his lighter from his pocket and took out a cigarette, tapping it against the gilded lid. “Postponed.” The flame flashed before his face, and he took a long drag, looking off towards the corner. “I was practicing all day,” he mumbled. “Had no idea you were coming. 

I knew what his days consisted of. Since he’d been expelled from military school two years ago, he had taken up a career as a pianist. He was a genius at the piano, there was no denying it, but he spent most of his time in bed, God only knows with whom. 

“Isn’t he cute?” he said, gesturing to the baby, who was swaddled in cotton on Vasily’s shoulder. “What’s his name?”

“Maria,” I said. “It’s a girl.”

My brother blushed.

“Father didn’t mention anything to you?” I asked, taking my suitcase and walking towards the stairs. “He wrote to us a month ago.”

“He’s probably forgotten about it by now.”

“Alyosha, he’s been through hell. Try to understand.”

My brother shot a grimace in my direction. “Your room’s in the west wing, isn’t it? Right, I’ll be in the drawing room. Holler if you need anything. I think Father’s in his study — you can go knock if you want.”

Shutting the door behind me, I put my suitcase at the foot of the bed. 

“God, that boy is insolent,” Vasily said, gazing out the musty windows. “Any idea what he did to get himself kicked out of the Cadet Corps?”

“Vasya, we’ve been over this. I’d rather it stayed a mystery.” I brushed a cobweb from the wooden footboard. “It’s his career, not mine. Besides, he does well as a pianist. Lots of attention.”

“I’m sure he likes that.”

“Really, Vasya, drop it. He’s practically a child.”

My father did appear at dinner that night, late and still wearing his uniform. He was a sad sight: his disheveled shirt and his unshaven, once-handsome face. Out of deference, we all stood up as he entered.

“Sit down, sit down,” he said, slowly walking across the room and taking his place at the head of the table. 

We obeyed. The dining hall had never been my favorite room in the manor: it was squat, gloomy, and lined with old portraits and older statues. The heirloom silver tray, which still stood in the corner on a pedestal, had once been as pristine as a mirror; now it was stained, tarnished, and edged with cobwebs. Opposite it was an ancient family portrait from the nineties. It was the best likeness of my mother, the last one drawn before her sickness. She was the spitting image of Alexis; her dark hair curled around her luminous face in intricate coils, her dark, ceaseless eyes gazing at an unseen sky. He had gotten her beauty; I had gotten her heart. 

My brother’s friends were there, a frilly girl called Sonya and a boy named Petr, who had been at school with him before the expulsion. They were strangely cheerful; though Alexis was prone to gloominess and violence, the three of them talked about opera and would not look at me. Vasily and I were left with my father. 

“It’s been so long,” he said, though it had only really been a matter of months. “You look so much older. That new wardrobe… very au courant. How was it in France?”

I had hated France. Paris was overcrowded and obnoxious, but, as Vasily said, fashionable. He was desperate to make a good impression on the world, and Paris was the way to do it: the opera, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the brainless shop clerks who couldn’t figure out how to spell our last name. 

“Lovely,” I said. “It’s so fresh there.”

Vasily nodded. “Paris is a perfect city. We’d stay there all year round if we could.”

My father smiled. “God knows it’s a good time to leave Russia.” He gestured to Alexis and his friends. “Take him with you. He’s wasting his days here, and it’s a terrible place to be young. I want him to live.”

“You’re a pianist, aren’t you, Alexis?” my husband asked, glancing across the table. 

My brother looked up, surprised. “Yes. I play at the Bolshoi Theatre.”

“Why piano?”

“I’m good at it, that’s all.”

I saw my husband smile. “Why don’t you play for us sometime?”

My brother’s eyes flitted over to me and back to him. “Of course,” he said, but sounded ill at ease. “You like music?”

“Mostly just Tchaikovsky.” Vasily set down his fork and fixed my brother with a piercing stare. “Did you start playing before or after you got kicked out of the Cadet Corps?”

A wave of angry embarrassment flashed across my brother’s face. “Before,” he muttered. “Years before.”

In our bedroom after dinner I sat by the window and nursed the baby. Vasily was in the brocade armchair, smoking, the lamplight dancing across his face. 

“Even the paper’s out of date,” he muttered, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air. “We can’t stay here, Kitty.”

“We can leave a day early, if you hate it so much.”

“What, you’re having fun? You don’t have to pretend you like it here just to appease your father. You can’t convince me you really want to spend more than an hour here with that whore brother of yours and his school friends? I swear to God I could kill that boy.”

“Vasya, you agreed to spend one week here with me. As soon as the week is over, we’ll leave, I promise. Lord knows we’ll live the rest of our lives in Petersburg, so let me have this week with my father before he dies.” 

Vasily held up his hands. “As you wish.”

By the time I woke up the next morning, Vasily was gone. He enjoyed an early morning walk; he said the world was most beautiful before sunrise. I sat in bed with the baby, brushing her shock of auburn curls out of her soft face and pinching her chubby cheeks. I had named her after my mother, a last-ditch effort to keep her with me, but the only resemblance was in my baby’s eyes. Even when she was smiling, there was a light in her eyes that seemed to belong to another world, one I knew I would never see. 

Half an hour passed, and there was a knock on the door. It was my brother. 

“Oh, you’ve got little Masha,” he said, peeking around the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. Up early?”

“Rather. Couldn’t sleep last night — had all these awful nightmares. Where’s your husband?”

I laughed. “Out walking, I think. Maybe hunting. He left before I woke up. Here, come sit.”

He crossed and settled himself beside me on the bed. “Can I hold her?”

Gathering her linens, I passed the baby to him. He smiled, touching her nose. “Your husband’s rotten, isn’t he?”

“Alyosha, that’s a bit on the nose.”

“But he is.”

I hesitated. “Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it isn’t. That’s how marriage is. You’ll understand when you’re married.”

“I don’t want to marry. Seems pretty awful, as far as I can see. Gosh, Kitty, she is cute. How old is she?”

“Two months.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t look pregnant at your wedding, otherwise all of Russia would’ve been talking about it,” he said. “If they knew—”

“Alyosha, have you just come in here to pick a bone with me?”

My brother rolled his eyes. “Course not. You’re here for the rest of the week, aren’t you? Why’d you come back, anyway?”

“Father asked me.”

He made a face. “Since when did you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t know. Since when do you care about me?”

His cheeks went red, and he got quiet. 

“Not so nice to be interrogated, is it?” I took the baby back — she had started crying. “I came back because I wanted to see Father one last time. Not that he’s on death’s door, but with the way he drinks you never know. I’m sorry, that’s grim. But there it is — that’s the reason. And I suppose I missed it here.” 

“I miss it too, whenever I leave. It’s great here, isn’t it? The huge gardens, the dusty rooms… You could spend the rest of your life just exploring the east wing.” He sat back, looking up at the ceiling. “Isn’t this place funny?”

Behind us, on either side of the bed, a pair of French windows were glowing in the palm of the sun. The curtains, lacy and sheer, were fluttering in the breeze. On the far wall, the paint had begun to chip. It was as if the house itself was dying. 

My husband did not come back for another several hours. When my brother left I heard their voices in the hall, and waited for Vasily to come in, but he never did. Soon the sound faded, and I was alone again. The baby had fallen asleep, and I put her in her crib. By then it was getting brighter, and warmer. There was, for once in my life, no urgency in the air. I found a book in the mahogany bedside table and flipped through it, careful not to crease the spine. The title page said “Katya’s Book” in ugly Russian cursive. My childhood handwriting had never won any awards. 

I got back into bed, the baby in my line of sight, and began to read. It was an old book about a countess escaping from an evil huntsman. She had gotten lost in the woods looking for her dog — an amateurish mistake — and the huntsman had captured her, carrying her over his shoulder like a featherweight piece of cargo. I had annotated it liberally as a child, and enjoyed reading notes such as “this is very stupid” and “why doesn’t she just try climbing out the window?” — notes which, I’m sure, would have amused the poor author. 

The countess had just managed to break out of the house when I heard a strange noise coming from the east wing. It sounded like a scream, an awful scream, like someone’s heart had been ripped open. The halls were silent, then I heard it again. It was my brother’s voice. 

“Dunya,” I called to the maid, who was ironing in the room next door. 

She appeared a moment later. “Yes, Your Serenity?”

“You hear that sound? What is it?”

Pausing to listen, she frowned. “I’m sorry, Your Serenity, I don’t know.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, as far as I know.”

I dismissed her — she was no help — and went back to the book. The countess was deep in the woods now, running for her life. She could hear the huntsman shouting behind her, but in the distance she saw a flickering light. She ran faster and faster, and the light got closer and closer. She was almost there. 

That scream rang out through the manor again. Then a second time. My heart began to drum inside my chest. 

“Dunya,” I hollered. 

“Yes, Serenity?”

“I think my brother’s hurt. Will you stay with the baby while I check?”

“Yes, Serenity.”

Of course, as soon as I left, the whole manor was silent. All I could hear was the dust billowing up from the floor as I walked towards the east wing. As I got closer to his room I heard something else — a persistent moaning that made me blush. Looking through the keyhole, I saw him tangled up with another man: Petr, I thought. Feeling sheepish, I retraced my steps and went outside. 

It was a perfect day. The sun pierced the vast blue sky; a dappling of clouds lined the horizon. The copse behind the manor was a glowing canopy of leaves, green above and green below. Far away, there was the sound of water trickling down a creek. Years had passed since I had last walked through the grounds; everything had been so different when I was a little girl. I remembered the vastness of the sky — gazing up at it while lying in the grass and thinking it could’ve swallowed me whole. 

My mother loved the gardens. Even when she was dying, she used to sit under the old oak tree for hours, needlework in hands. During my French lessons I could look out the windows and see her, smiling and stitching away. She liked to sing as she worked, and I would hear the strains of old folk songs; the words, all in Russian, were almost familiar. Now, standing by the oak, my hand on the chipping bark, I almost heard the song again. 

When I went back in, the manor was quieter than ever. Even the wind had hushed up. The silence was eerie and strange. In my room, Dunya was sitting in the armchair with the baby, softly speaking to her in Russian. I was almost hesitant to disturb her; I loved her round, smiling face beaming down at Masha. But she heard the door creaking, and looked up as I came in. 

“Where’s Vasily?” I said, taking off my jacket. “He came back, didn’t he?”

Dunya shook her head. “No, Serenity. I haven’t seen Prince Golitsyn since morning.” 

“Did he tell you where he went?”

Again she shook her head. “No, Serenity. I hardly saw him before he left.”

“Well, I’ll find him.” 

Back in the east wing, I searched the library and the lounge, but both were empty and decaying. As I walked back towards the center of the manor, I passed my brother’s room — it was silent. 

I knocked on the door and called his name, but there was no response. I thought I heard a fluttering sound, but I couldn’t be sure, and knocked again. I didn’t know why, but I felt a little breathless, almost scared. Curious, I tried the door. It was locked. 

“Alyosha, open the door,” I called. “I know you’re in there.”

Nothing. I rattled the handle. 

“Alyosha, you’re scaring me. I’m not upset with you, I just want to talk.”

I took one of the pins from my hair and stuck it in the lock. It was a dirty trick, one that my friend had taught me when we were both young girls. The lock gave, the door swung open. 

The bed was empty. I thought it was strange, the rumpled sheets and displaced pillows, but stranger things had happened in my brother’s room. I stepped inside, and felt something soft under my foot. It was my brother’s robe. A moment later I saw his face, as placid as ever, his eyes open and unmoving. A thin red line ran across his forehead. He was dead. Beside him was my husband, a hole in the side of his head and a gun in his hand. I leaned down to touch my fingertips to his cheek — his skin was still warm. When I stood back up my petticoat was edged in blood. 

That night, Dunya and I boarded a train for Crimea. She sat across from me, the first time we had ever been equals, and held the baby in her arms. It was dark, but the lamplight slipped over her cheeks and glinted in her eyes.

The train started up. The clicking of the wheels grew louder. I glanced toward the window, feeling the tears in the corners of my eyes. I looked back. A beam of light flooded the compartment: a lamp on a passing platform. The moment was over; the light became weaker, then faded altogether, and we went on, as the landscape danced in the windows and the track slowly split the country in two. 

[lightsonparkave]

HAPPY TWO-YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO LIGHTS ON PARK AVE! 🎂🎉 In celebration of LoPA’s birthday (August 22, to be exact), all of the prompts from the previous year are up for grabs.

Round 24 will end on August 31, 11:59 PM ET (what time is that for me?).

As always, you’re free to jump in whenever you’d like during the round, a wide variety of work types is accepted, and there are no minimum work requirements. Unfinished works and works for other fandom events are allowed. You can find more information about Lights on Park Ave and the participation guidelines here.

Here are all 149 prompts. Go crazy and have fun! 🎈

ROUND 13: TIME

A quote about being infinite in the present moment from The Perks of Being a Wallflower

“Vellichor,” the the strange wistfulness of used bookstores

“How long is forever?” dialogue from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

“Time” - Hans Zimmer (Inception OST)

A quote and gifset from Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival (2016) about the nonlinear structure of time

Agnès Varda’s portraits when she was 20, 36, and 80 years old

A John Irving quote about what time does to the people who matter to us

Ten traveling back to see Rose on New Year’s Day in 2005 before he dies and reincarnates in Doctor Who

Future inventions in 2015 as seen in Robert Zemeckis’s Back to the Future Part II (1989)

A quote about what time does for wounds

ROUND 14: LIMINALITY

A photoset of various liminal spaces

Illustration of a black cat in front of a red-lit house with the caption, “They say no one is living here—but the lights come on, once every year”

A photoset of Victorian-era spirit photography, an art form that attempted to capture the ghost of a deceased loved one

Information on the famous Mojave phone booth, a lone telephone booth in the middle of the desert that received calls from all over the world

Rosemary Ellen Guiley’s The Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Spirits Third Edition’s definition of “witching hour”

Illustration of a ghost train on an abandoned trestle bridge in the Pacific Northwest

A quote by Isabel Allende about spirits coming out at night in the library

Gifset of the spirit world in Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (2001)

Illustration of a neon roadside sign of a motel that only appears at night by a long-forgotten highway

“Pacific Coast Highway” - Kavinsky

A gifset quote from The Twilight Zone (1959)

Scenery from Twin Peaks season 1 (1990)

A quote about something shifting into a strange, new place inside of a person from Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado

ROUND 15: LOSS

A quote about being lost and found by someone special by Sue Zhao

A photo of the Mildred, wrecked off Gurnard’s Head, Cornwall in 1912

A quote about ephemerality and the beauty of it from Troy (2004)

Two paintings of people visiting ruins by Caspar David Friedrich

A quote about desire and loss by Lara Mimosa Montes

A photo of an overgrown, abandoned conservatory

A passage about what disappears and what remains in ruins from Suicide by Édouard Levé

Dialogue about gratitude for people who aren’t meant to stay in your life but shape who you are from BoJack Horseman

A scene from Fleabag where the Priest chooses God over Fleabag and gently tells Fleabag that her love for him will pass before they part ways

A prayer to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things, people, and souls

Oscar Wilde’s tomb in Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris, covered in lipstick kisses from admirers

Photos of a cemetery statue in Austria, wrapped in branches and dead leaves, holding a single flower

ROUND 16: DEVOTION/SERVICE

A gifset of Kevin on the phone, telling Chiron he’ll cook food for him from Barry Jenkin’s Moonlight (2016)

Buttercup’s monologue to Westley about how she would do anything for him from The Princess Bride by William Goldman

Gifs of Merlin saying that he was born to serve Arthur from BBC’s Merlin

An excerpt about giving all of oneself to someone despite what it costs from House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

A gifset of various times Jaime and Brienne demonstrate their loyalty to and love for each other in Game of Thrones

A gifset of all the different ways Cliff is there for Rick in Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019)

A gifset of Nadia deciding to be by Alan’s side no matter what in Russian Doll

“Devotion” - Ocean Vuong

A gifset of Bond comforting a traumatized Vesper in the shower in Casino Royale (2006)

A gifset of Sookhee refusing to leave Hideko, saying her job is to look after her in Park Chanwook’s The Handmaiden (2016)

ROUND 17: DREAMS

A dreamscape gifset and quote about repressed thoughts in dreams and the Internet from Satoshi Kon’s Paprika (2006)

A gifset of Mitsuha and Taki finally meeting in their own bodies in a dream from Shinkai Makoto’s Kimi no Na wa (Your Name) (2016)

A quote by Tinker Bell telling Peter Pan where he can find her and where she’ll always love him in Steven Spielberg’s Hook (1991)

The scene where Keating tells his students that poetry, beauty, romance, and love give life meaning in Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society (1989)

An animated illustration of a storefront called “Hauntings” with a flickering “99¢ dreams” neon sign

Various dreamscape scenes and a quote about ideas being the most resilient parasite from Christopher Nolan’s Inception (2010)

A quote about how all living beings must dream to survive reality from The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

A comic about people we love taking turns to visit us in dreams every night

Lovers and Sleeping Couple, two drawings by Egon Schiele

A quote about belief in a better world by Robert Frobisher to his lover, Rufus Sixsmith, in Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

A quote about the feeling of falling in love lingering when you wake up from a dream in Alexis Dos Santos’s Unmade Beds (2009)

A photo of subway graffiti by an unknown author insisting that they’ll never give up making the world a better place to live in

ROUND 18: PHYSICAL TOUCH

A scene about how to return a stolen kiss from Daniel Ribeiro’s The Way He Looks (2014)

A line about kissing someone the way a flower opens from “I Know Someone” by Mary Oliver

A gifset focusing on showing affection and care through hands from Park Chanwook’s The Handmaiden (2016)

A passage about two people leaving invisible marks on each other through the accumulation of touches over the years from A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood

Two conversations about never being touched before and only being touched by one person from Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight (2016)

Going from yearning to touch someone but stopping oneself to being allowed to touch them from Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy

Moving art of two bodies made of stars and the cosmos embracing

A quote about maintaining sanity by touching someone but being separated despite proximity from The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje

A line about proving that one still exists and is real through touch from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

Different touches between Villanelle and Eve expressing violence, threat, sexual tension, comfort, and companionship in Killing Eve

A juxtaposition of two scenes from Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love (2000) of Su Li-zhen rejecting and accepting Chow Mo-wan’s hand

A compilation of marble sculptures by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Syd (Chris Evans) trailing kisses down London’s back in London (2005)

ROUND 19: IMMORTALITY

James Baldwin talking about how art helps you discover that people before you have experienced the same thing as you and you are not alone

Dr. Brand saying that love transcends time and space in Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar (2014)

Nadia and Alan meeting for the first time as they’re about to die and relive the same day again in Russian Doll

The loneliness of losing everyone by having a long life as expressed by Ten in Doctor Who

The doomed eternal time loop romance of Simon and Alisha from Misfits

A quote by Edvard Munch about becoming eternal through the flowers that grow from his body after death

Nagai Kei recalling the traffic accident that killed him and triggered his immortality, making him one of the rare persecuted humans to possess the power, in Ajin

A collection of moments from Jay Russell’s Tuck Everlasting (2002)

A quote by Mary Wollstonecraft hoping for something that lasts inside the heart

Various scenes with Jack Harkness from Doctor Who

Aya telling Asou-kun to live on and live forever as she nears the end of her life in 1 Litre of Tears

An excerpt about the immortalization of the self through love from “Love of the Wolf” in Hélène Cixous’s Stigmata

A collection of scenes from the Black Mirror episode “San Junipero”

Naoko telling Toru to always remember her and remember that she existed in Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

Dom explaining to Ariadne that he uses the PASIV to dream as it’s the only way that he can be with his wife and children in Christopher Nolan’s Inception (2010)

ROUND 20: POETRY

“I’m Going Back to Minnesota Where Sadness Makes Sense” - Danez Smith

A line about wanting to forget how much you loved someone and then actually forgetting from Bluets by Maggie Nelson

“Perhaps the World Ends Here” - Joy Harjo

“In Time” - W. S. Merwin

“By Small and Small: Midnight to Four A.M.” - Jack Gilbert

“Magdalene: The Addict” - Marie Howe

“Wild Geese” - Mary Oliver

“Morphology 2″ - CJ Scruton

“20″ from Moscow in the Plague Year by Marina Tsvetaeva

“To Hold” - Li-Young Lee

ROUND 21: LONGING

“I Loved You Before I Was Born” - Li-Young Lee

A poem about longing for someone through worlds by Izumi Shikibu

A gifset of Marianne and Héloïse falling in love from Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

“Make Me Feel” - Janelle Monáe

A quote about living in longing being better than realizing that longing from 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

“I Want You” - Mitski

Orpheus and Eurydice in Hades - Friedrich Heinrich Füger

Long definition of the word “saudade”

Definition of the word “hiraeth”

“Something About Us” - Daft Punk

Two lines about burning quietly from the poem “The Pillowcase” by Annelyse Gelman

A conversation about wanting each other after decades of separation from Pedro Almodóvar’s Pain and Glory (2019)

A Hanahaki disease mood board

“Shrike” - Hozier

Two lines about wanting someone to return from Herakles by Euripides

“Love of My Life” - Queen

“Eyes, Nose, Lips” - Taeyang

A screenshot of Kathy and Tommy holding onto each other desperately from Mark Romanek’s Never Let Me Go (2010) and a quote from Kazuo Ishiguro’s eponymous novel

ROUND 22: YOUTH

“Perfect Places” - Lorde

A piece about realizing you’ll never be this young again, but it’s the first time you’re this old by Kalyn Roseanne Livernois

A conversation between Neil and Mr. Keating about Neil feeling trapped and unable to live the life he wants because of his father from Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society (1989)

An excerpt about being too young to know how to love properly from Le Petit Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” - Arctic Monkeys

Elio’s father telling Elio not to try to rid himself of his sorrow and pain—and with that joy—which he feels so strongly because he’s so young from Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman

A quote about how everything feels final to young people because they’re experiencing it for the first time from Middlemarch by George Eliot

Lara Jean telling Peter that she had to make it seem like she liked him to deal with her love letter fiasco in Susan Johnson’s To All the Boys I Loved Before (2018)

Rue and Jules dancing together and partying it up in Euphoria

“Le Plongeoir” by Laurent Roch

A quote about being pushed into adulthood and not being ready from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

A photo of a roller rink illuminated by pink and purple lights

Pastel photo series of Coney Island by Mijoo Kim and Minjin Kang

“Hips Don’t Lie” - Shakira feat. Wyclef Jean

“Young Dumb & Broke” - Khalid

Different moments accompanied by the letter to Mr. Vernon at the end of detention from John Hughes’s The Breakfast Club (1985)

Various scenes and a quote about growing up and realizing life isn’t like a fairy tale from Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)

Stills of the young lesbian couple in love from the music video of “You Know” - Jaurim

Lines by Effy about her emotional and mental struggles from Skins

Nathan chiding the group for not taking advantage of their superpowers as young offenders from Misfits

ROUND 23: HEDONISM

A passage about giving into passion and losing control from The Secret History by Donna Tartt

“Thot Shit” - Megan Thee Stallion

An aesthetic photoset of the Greek god Dionysus

A quote about living for ecstasy rather than balance from From a Journal of Love by Anaïs Nin

A photo of an anonymous person in nothing but a silk robe and lingerie

A photo of Donatella Versace lounging in a chair, surrounded by shirtless, muscular men sunbathing around her in Capri, Italy in 1994

An aesthetic photoset based on The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

The music video for “Heartless” by The Weeknd

A plea for summer to never end from Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman

“Plastic Love” - Mariya Takeuchi

A gifset from the music video of “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd, a continuation of the “Heartless” music video

“XS” - Rina Sawayama

A gifset from the music video of “Body” by Mino

Photos of people dancing at the legendary Studio 54

Photos and a description of the party scene at Studio 54

Chris Evans and Evan Rachel Wood hooking up in a car in the “Gucci Guilty Black” commercial

[mfingenius]

Wow, your writing is so good! I hope you still take requests. I was wondering if you could write a kind of a kid fic. Where draco is a healer and Harry is an Auror ( also where draco has a bunch of adopted kids or smh)? Happy ending and all that jazz. Thank you very much! 💖💖💖

“Mr. Potter!” Harry groans when a knee practically slams into his thigh, thankfully missing his stomach and the recently healed scar there.

“Amelia, I told you to be careful,” Draco chastises, grabbing Amelia by the waist and taking her off Harry’s bed, placing her on the ground again. She pouts. “Mr. Potter is hurt, and you don’t want to hurt him more, do you?”

“No,” Amelia says, resigned. She crosses her small arms against her chest, a perfect picture of three-year old fury, and then looks at Harry with her big dark eyes; she has three big scars across her face, and a bite mark at her jaw. She was the only one to survive the werewolf attack on her family, and, after Harry had taken the case and brought her in, Draco had predictably adopted her. “How are you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smiles. “I’m-”

“Terrible.” Santiago, an eight year old Ron rescued from drowning after the orphanage had taken them to swim in a lake and he’d jumped in without actually knowing how to swim - and Draco had then, predictably, adopted - says, grinning at Harry. He’s missing his two front teeth. “A ‘reckless idiot’.”

“Some people might consider that impolite, you know.” Harry says, unable to help his smile.

“Daddy gave us permission to say it to your face,” Cleopatra is five, Egyptian, and had been one of the kids Draco had adopted on his brief stay in Egypt. He’d traveled all around the globe before settling back in England, and now has kids from everywhere. “He said we might get through to you, if he couldn’t.”

“I did,” Draco says, helpfully, from where he’s putting on gloves to examine Harry. “Is it working, Potter?”

Harry grins. “I don’t know. I think you could find ways to be a little more persuasive.”

Draco’s cheeks darken slightly, and he gives Harry a weak glare.

“You’re flirting,” Alexis says, nose wrinkled. They have red hair and freckles all over their skin. When Draco had first adopted them, Harry had joked he was adopting a secret Weasley. Draco had smacked him for it. “It’s gross.”

“He’s not flirting, Alexis.” Draco says.

“No, I am.” Harry assures him. Alexis grins at him, and Harry bumps their fists. They know each other since Alexis was a one year old and Draco adopted them after they’d landed in the hospital with injuries their parents had given them. Harry had been in St. Mungo’s recovering from a concussion at the time, so he’d gotten to see the exact moment Draco went all teary eyed and wobbly-lipped and decided to adopt the first kid. 

Many have followed after that.

“May I remind you you have a serious injury,” Draco says, rolling his eyes and untying Harry’s robe so he’s naked from the waist up. The scar is healing quite nicely, really, as they do when Draco heals them. He’s not St. Mungo’s best healer for nothing.

“Oh, I know.” Harry tells him. 

He feels the hospital bed dip beside him, and turns to see Carina and Avik sitting next to him; Draco picked up Carina when he was in italy, and Avik when he was in India. Carina’s thirteen, but hasn’t spoken in four years, since Draco got her out of the Potions ring she’d been forced into, but Draco seems to understand her anyways. Avik is only eight, and he doesn’t speak either, though he communicates through writing and drawing without problem, unlike Carina.

“Hey,” He smiles.

Carina doesn’t smile - she only ever smiles at Draco or her adopted siblings - but she hands Harry a knit flower. 

“For me?” Harry asks, surprised. Avik nods, handing him a letter as well, and Harry looks at them, touched. “Thank you.”

“See?” Draco tells him. “They care about you. So stop being-”

“A reckless idiot,” The kids chorus together, then burst out into giggles.

“Exactly,” Draco feels around his scar with gentle fingers, and then casts a few spells to make sure everything is alright. Eva and Lilith are perched on his hip - twins, seven months old, no father and mother died in labor, with no family - Eva drooling on her fist, and Lilith staring unnervingly at Harry, and it might be an obstacle to do anything with two children on your hip, but Draco has so much practice - and the help of magic holding the babies to his hip - that he does it without a second thought.

Whenever Harry lands himself in the hospital - by being a reckless idiot, according to Draco - Draco brings his kids to see Harry at least once. Harry loves the little runts, and their visits always make him feel better.

“Can’t get mad at me,” Harry tells him. “Saved a kid.”

Draco hums, non committal, even if he knows Harry knows how he is with kids.

“Adoption paperwork through, yet?” Harry teases him.

“You think you know me so well,” Draco remarks, eyebrow arched.

“Don’t I?” Harry challenges.

“No.”

“Yes,” Alexis says, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. “Adoption paperwork is through, Astrid is just recovering in her room before she comes home with us.”

Harry snickers, and Draco rolls his eyes as he ties Harry’s robe up again.

“I haven’t met this one, yet.” Harry remarks in a gentle voice as he looks at the little boy hiding behind Draco’s legs. He must be four or five, and has black hair and a tight grip on Draco’s trousers, a thumb stuck in his mouth. He’s wearing a dragon costume with a skirt over it.

“Rafael.” Draco says, and his voice is gentle, gentler even than it is with patients. “This is Harry.”

The boy blinks at Harry but doesn’t otherwise move, and Alexis takes Eva off Draco’s hip. She doesn’t take Lilith, because the baby’s a little demon who bites and scratches and spits at anyone who isn’t Draco. Harry tried to hold her once - against Draco’s advice - and she poked him in the eye.

“This is Rafael,” Draco tells Harry. “Still getting used to things, but he wanted to say hello.”

“Hello.” Harry smiles at him.

Rafael murmurs something like a greeting around his thumb.

“Your scar is healing well.” Draco tells him. “Most of the damage was superficial, which is good, but I mean it Potter. You need to stop being a reckless idiot.”

“I’ll try,” Harry says, which is what he says every time.

And Draco gives him a look, which he also does every time. 

“I promise,” Harry tells him. 

“You better.” Draco says. “I’m beginning to think Lilith will have to babysit you at this point.”

Harry grimaces at the thought of having to stay with the demon baby all day.

“It won’t come to that,” He swears. “If only to avoid her poking my eye again.”

Draco snickers.

“It better not,” He says, menacing. “Well, children, I’m sure Mr. Potter is tired now, so-”

“No,” the children begin whining, and Harry grins.

“I mean, I’m not tired.” He says. “They can stay here with me while you finish your shift.”

Draco chews on his lower lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Harry says.

“You’ll have to watch Lilith.” Draco tells him with raised eyebrows.

Harry shrugs, even through a grimace. “Give her here. Maybe we’ll become friends before you come back.”

Draco grins. “Doubt it.”

—————————————

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[howaboutalittlehelpneos]

YGO! Questionnaire

Tagged by @cipher-wise

Pleasantly surprised to be in one of these, so let’s go

Favorite series: *Gestures to icon* Is it any surprise I’ll be picking GX? I love GX with all my heart and soul. The story’s pacing is very good and never feels like it’s dragging its feet to get to where it’s going, most duels are over in less than a full episode with the longest one being three, there are so many good characters to get invested in, and this boy right here is your protagonist.

Look at him blow kisses to the audience after beating Crowler, how could anyone not love Jaden Yuki? I care him so much. Even the filler episodes in GX are pretty fun to watch most of the time, and it’s the good kind of filler that may not advance the plot much or at all, but it’ll give you plenty of good memories to take with you. Who could possibly forget the eggwich thief? Not to mention the soundtrack fucking slaps.

Favorite protagonist: I mean...

Yeah it’s Jaden. GX hooked me immediately when I started watching it because of how much I loved this boy. He’s that perfect mix of cocky and sweet when it comes to dueling because he’s confident in his own abilities, but he never stops having fun and being amazed at what his opponent can do, he cares about all of his friends and does his best to help them with their problems, he’s kind to strangers, and he has exactly half a brain cell. 

I feel the gif speaks for itself, but Jaden’s dialogue when he turns around here is “I’m such a sucker for things like this! I’ll help you, ma’am!” Dorothy says “No, you’ll be late... Don’t you have a test today?” And Jaden replies with “Who cares if I’m late? I couldn’t leave a lady in trouble!” Jaden Yuki is my absolute favorite protagonist.

Favorite rival: Oh man is that a tough one. Am I allowed to pick two? It’s a hard call to make between this dumb edgy bitch-

And this dumb gay bitch

Honestly they’re tied for favorite rival in my book. I absolutely loved Chazz when I watched GX, and I thought his arc about breaking through his inferiority/superiority complex and learning to accept loss as a part of life without letting it define him was wonderfully written, and seeing him grow as a person throughout the show just made me feel happy for him. Shark... I really thought I wasn’t going to end up liking Shark at first, but god he just gets so much better as Zexal goes on, starting out as this mean spirited middle school bully in episode one, and slowly ending up as Yuma’s boyfriend closest friend. It’s incredible to look back at how Shark acts when he’s first introduced and compare it to... season 3, I think it was, where just hearing the words “Yuma’s in danger” is enough to send him running to his rival’s side. Chazz and Shark. They are my favorites.

Favorite BFF: Him

Crow Hogan is an absolute treasure and he was my favorite part about watching 5Ds. This little bird man first gets introduced by stealing cards for his kids and clowning on Sector Security, and he’s a source of so much good throughout the show. Excellent best friend (technically brother but I’m counting him), wonderful father, 10/10 person all around. Plus the fact that the only thing stopping him from berating his bitchass brother even more was Yusei having to literally pick him up and pull him away is definitely extra points in my book. What a powerful little bird. His only weakness is people that are taller than him, which is unfortunately most people.

Favorite GFF:

Yuzu. Have I actually watched Arc V yet? No, but I’m still picking Yuzu for my number one here. Tea and Tori are just awful characters, I’m neutral towards Alexis, and Akiza... Did have potential to be something interesting on her own, despite how uncomfortable she made me in seasons 1-2 of 5Ds, but her relevance is alllll downhill from there. I’ve seen one clip of Yuzu yelling at a man eating pie and calling him a 100th rate duelist, and that was all I needed to know she would be my favorite. (Clip here) 

Favorite villain: Oh boy

The fuckin carrot is my favorite villain, and I say this as someone who fully believes he didn’t deserve to be in the last episode. Vector did some fucked up shit in his day, and he only continued to do fucked up shit in Yuma’s day, but I have to say he was pretty effective when it came down to his goals. He got things done and went right for what he wanted by taking direct action to seize Don Thousand’s power, and he manipulated Yuma perfectly by preying on his kind nature and love for Astral to use him to further his goals. 

...Plus I mean just look at his subbed dialogue God he’s such a slut. Evil slutty alien.

Tl;dr Vector was a horrible horrible person, but he was a good villain, and he was so entertaining whenever he was on screen that it was impossible not to like him. Still kinda wish he got what he deserved though, and what he deserved definitely wasn’t another chance.

Speaking of Don Thousand though, can we talk about how unfairly pretty he is? If I had to pick a runner up villain in terms of looks alone, it would definitely be him.

God it was not fair how pretty the big bad of Zexal was. He’s fucking gorgeous, and in my opinion, the best looking villain at the very least.

Favorite card: *Sweats in Duel Links* Favorite? There’s so many cards out there to pick from, but since I’ve already broken the rules with my two favorite rivals, I’ll be picking two of each card type: Spells, traps, and monsters. One for the aesthetic, and one for how often I make use of it.

First up, the Aesthetics group

What can I say, Vampiric Koala is such a cutie, Dwimmered Path has some really pretty card art, and Rainbow Life is an eternal flex on any heteros I may encounter while playing Duel Links. Nothing better than a gay trap card.

Now for usability

Dragon Knight of Creation is suuuper helpful in any dragon themed deck and has a permanent slot in my decks for Mokuba and Kaiba, PoG is always a fun way to boost up weak monsters to ridiculous heights, and Dark Bribe just lets you block your opponent like “Okay I know you wanna hurt me but I will let you draw another card if you do not do that thing”, and they can’t refuse you.

Favorite episode: I’ll be copying cipher’s format here and picking one for each series, but this will still only total out to five for me since I’ve yet to watch past Zexal ^^; Soon I’ll get to Arc V! One day...

Season 0: Episode 16:  Turnabout by a Hair's Breadth - The White-Robed Crisis I’m a sucker for my son Joey, and this was a good Joey episode about him and his sister, plus it was nice seeing that doctor get what he deserved :) Duel Monsters: Season 5, episode 12-14:  The Deciding Match for Duel King - Yugi vs. Leon/Golden Castle of Stromberg/KC Grand Prix Ends  Probably a weird batch of episodes to pick, I know, but a lot of DM was kinda forgettable to me, and these are some of the few episodes I do recall. I just... really felt for Leon’s situation, and I wanted good things for that boy. I care him. GX: Season 3, episode 34: Dark Fusion! Inferno Wing!! Jim. Jim Jim Jimmmmm. This was the episode that finally made me understand why saviorshipping was a thing because it hits you with all these memories Jim has of Jaden and shows how they bonded before all this Dark World shit happened, and the whole thing was very emotional. 5Ds: Season 4, episode 2-3:  Recollections, Entrusted with a Friend's Dying Wish God Crow, my precious bird son. I really liked the backstory they gave him, despite how much it hurt. It was probably the best character development he got in the whole of 5Ds, and let you see a side to him you probably wouldn’t expect. I loved watching him get his justice. Zexal II: Season 2, episode 5-6:  Alito the Silent Fighter - Reunion of the Passionate Duelists!/ Be Revived! The Duelist Soul That Transcends Life!! I picked these episodes for Nistro and Nistro alone. He was one of my absolute favorites in Zexal, and seeing how well he and Dextra were doing was good for the soul. Just look at this good lion man right here.

Look at him!!!

Favorite decks to use: Elemental Heroes, Aromages, Red Eyes, Six Samurai, and Crystal Beasts.

Fusion, Ritual, Synchro, Xyz, Pendulum, or Link: I’m a simple girl, I love fusion/tributes for how easy they are, but synchro can be pretty fun, too

Years in fandom: ??? Even I don’t know the answer to this one, friends. I used to be in the fandom when I was in middle school, wrote/read a few fanfics here and there, but then I fell out of it for... Well I’m 22 now and only got back into things 6 months ago? I started rewatching the abridged series of Duel Monsters in March, and from there I just wanted to consume actual Yugioh content and never went back.

Who am I tagging: @finding-fallen-petals @dizziedaikonn​ @chazzaroo​ Go wild y’all

[akaluan]

Erich/Kisuke/Alexis: Soulmate AU + Character in Peril Part 8

He drifts awake to the murmur of quiet-familiar-safe voices in his ear and a slender, calloused hand combing through his hair. Everything is warm-safe-content, from the hum of Alexis’ soulmark to the press of spiritual power all around them, and he turns his head slightly to bury his face a bit more in his pillow.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Alexis says kindly, leaning over to press a kiss to his temple.

Erich grunts. Turns his head a bit more. Gets distracted by the muffled laughter that definitely isn’t coming from his wife.

“I told you,” Alexis says in amusement. “Given half the chance, Erich’s a night owl at heart.”

“I see that,” Degurechaff replies, and maybe he should be embarrassed, maybe he should force himself up, but…

Why should he bother?

(She’s seen him panicked and exhausted and wounded and helpless, and still she’s stood by him.)

(Why would this be the thing that changes her mind?)

Alexis’ fingers run through his hair again, fingernails lightly scraping his scalp, and he hums in enjoyment. He doesn’t have many opportunities to rest these days, and if they’re going to let him then he’s going to take advantage of it.

“Degurechaff and I have been discussing what happened yesterday evening and the training she’s going to need now,” Alexis informs him, knowing full-well that he’s perfectly capable of remembering even if he rarely responds when he’s in this state. “I offered to give her the basics she’s going to need for control, but you’re probably the best one to guide her after that.”

Erich makes an agreeable noise. Either of them could teach Degurechaff the basics, but if Alexis is offering then that’s fine by him. It frees him up to observe and make notes on how Degurechaff’s abilities differ from a Quincy’s, which will be important when they try to advance her training any further.

(He’s always been better at improvising and innovating, always trying to push the boundaries of his skills when he can…)

(It will be fascinating to see what Degurechaff is capable of.)

“She’s quite the talent,” Alexis continues, a hint of pride in her voice and contentment-pleasure-confidence sliding through their mark. “I’m certain she’ll have much of the basics mastered in no time at all.”

“I do my best,” Degurechaff demurs, then hesitates a moment before she blurts out, “Sir, I think you should take the day to rest and recover. I can handle the men just fine, and we’re not planning on doing more than sending a few scouts out. We’ve got the chance and I know most of the men are going to use it to sleep in, so…”

Alexis presses need-want-listen across their bond and Erich snorts at the heavy-handedness she’s displaying but… he can’t disagree.

(Almost collapsing after the Reaper left was… not a good sign.)

“He’ll listen,” Alexis says for him as he lets sleepy agreement-acceptance-calm drift back to her. “Thank you again, Colonel Degurechaff. Remember to practice what I taught you whenever you think of it today, it needs to become almost as automatic as breathing.”

“I will.” There’s a rustle, quiet steps that fade away, and then the presence pressing like a heavy blanket across his body lifts.

(She’s stronger than he thought.)

(Oh dear…)

“Well then, now that I’ve got you alone…”

Erich twitches as Alexis kisses his cheek, her hand sliding from his hair and down his neck and side. Her hand is warm against his skin when she slips it beneath his shirt, her fingers tracing absent patterns that makes him shiver. Love-warmth-intent presses like fire through their bond, making the breath catch in his throat and the half-hearted protests die unvoiced in his throat.

(They’ll just have to be quiet.)

(It has been far too long, after all…)

He stretches. Reaches out. Pulls Alexis on top of him and into a kiss.

The world can wait a few hours.

***

“So, what do you want to do about our little soulmate problem?” Alexis asks as she sits up, one hand braced on his chest and her back arching into a stretch.

Erich takes a moment to admire his wife as he considers the question, trying to find the words he needs to answer it. He’s… conflicted about the Reaper, fear and caution and a touch of hate warring with the hope he’d once had and the spark of fondness that had grown in those first few days.

(He can’t forget that he slept the best he had in years because of the man.)

(He can’t forget that he’s healed because of him…)

“I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, reaching to the side to fumble for his glasses. “He’s a Reaper, but…”

“Pretty odd actions for a Reaper,” Alexis finishes for him as she settles back, the hand on his chest sliding down to rest on his hip. “Think he has actually left them?”

“Or been kicked out.” Which Erich suspects is the more likely scenario. There’s something about the man and the emotions he can sense from him that… make him suspect the current situation is not entirely of the Reaper’s free will. Not that that absolves the Reaper of anything; without knowing the reason, he can’t fairly judge anything about the situation.

(Can he even trust anything the Reaper says…?)

Alexis hums and glances aside, fingers drumming against his hip as she thinks. “We’ll need to talk with him, which will be… awkward. We’ll have to involve Colonel Degurechaff for translation, and even then…”

“Think he knows anything about emotion-sensing?” Erich asks on a whim, knowing exactly how Alexis feels about the imprecision of the method. The look she fixes him with is dust dry and exasperated, and he can’t resist a smirk in return. “Well, why not?”

“We’ll not leaving our decision to emotional interpretation, love,” she says firmly, leaning forward to jab a finger into his sternum. “We’re Quincy, not gods.”

Erich laughs and catches her hand, bringing it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I know, Lexi, I know. But it can help us get a better read on him and his reactions.”

“If we have a baseline for understanding, which we don’t,” she counters with a frown. “I’m not yet as connected to him as you are, but what I feel is… concerning.”

“The loyalty.”

She nods. “The loyalty. Even I can feel how centered upon you it is, and that’s…”

“I know.” He’d already thought it before; what sort of man is capable of that level of loyalty to someone they don’t even know?

(It makes him wonder if the Reaper knows any other way of living.)

(If he was like Degurechaff, pressed into service too young to understand the repercussions, and now…)

(Now he’s adrift and lost and hurting from the rejection.)

“If we could guarantee that loyalty for us…” Alexis murmurs almost absently, her gaze turning distant.

Erich can almost see the wheels spinning in her mind, the potential plans forming and being discarded and—

If he looks at the whole thing from an officer’s point of view, he absolutely agrees. A man with the abilities of a Reaper on their side would be a boon, would help them survive the aftermath of this endless, brutal war that’s spawned for Hollows than Erich has ever seen before. With luck and patience they might even be able to adapt their skills to be more akin to a Reaper’s as well, which would make their descendants less of a target.

(He’s not naive enough to believe that the Reapers will leave them be, but… anything is better than nothing.)

Still…

“He’s a person, not an asset,” he reminds her softly, squeezing her hand to draw her attention back to him. It’s a way of thinking that’s all too common amongst the brass — a way of thinking even he falls into more often than not — but this isn’t a military problem, this is a personal problem, and he cannot bring military coldness to the table if they want something that will last. “Abusing his trust like that puts us dangerously close to becoming a reflection of our ancestors, love…”

She stares down at him, gaze unreadable and her emotions a jangling, discordant mess, before she sighs and closes her eyes as she slumps forward. “I know,” she mutters, hand tightening around his. “I know,” she repeats, voice stronger as her emotions finally begin to settle. “We approach this honestly and together or not at all. I know.”

Erich rubs his thumb across the back of her hand, pressing warmth-love-reassurance down their connection. “We’ll need to step cautiously even so,” he says with a bit of a frown, mind circling back to his previous thoughts. “There’s a chance that being a Reaper is all he ever knew, and if they cast him aside…”

Alexis snorts and shakes her head. “No bet,” she grumbles, a touch of weary resignation slipping in. “With the sort of loyalty he feels to you? No bet.” She slowly straightens back up and fixes him with a steady look, asking, “Is that our decision then? We’re giving him a chance?”

“Do you… not want to?” Erich asks, wondering if he’s managed to read her wrong for the first time in years.

“I think it’s dangerous. I think Colonel Degurechaff is going to have opinions about this decision. I think we could end up welcoming a viper amongst our family and that history will not look kindly upon us for doing so, if any of our people survive the fallout.” Alexis takes a deep breath, shoulders pulling back and chin tipping up a bit, her gaze steady on him as she finishes, “But I also think we can’t let fear determine our actions. He gets one chance, and we don’t bring him home until we are certain that he’s ours.”

The reaction of their family to this is going to be… a mess, Erich knows. Having a soulmate who’s older than him is already fertile ground for rumors, but bringing a Reaper home? To the place where their children are supposed to be safe? Where their elderly retire? Where their wounded recover?

They’re going to have to step very, very carefully, especially if they want to try and leverage Reaper skills into their own repertoire.

But it all starts with a single step.

“Tonight?” Erich asks, feeling something settle in him as the uncertainty drops away and a path clears in front of him.

“Tonight,” Alexis agrees. “We’ll see where we go from there.”

He breathes out a sigh and presses a kiss to her hand. “Beloved,” he murmurs against her skin, letting his love for her rise to the surface.

She meets his love with her own. Leans down and claims his mouth in a kiss. Skims her fingers across his chin to cradle his head in a gentle hand.

For a moment, they breathe each other in and let the world fade away.

For a moment, they drown in love reflected.

But only for a moment.

There’s work to be done.

It’s time to get started.

[staystrange]

i’m gonna make this place your home

Schitt’s Creek • Patrick Brewer/David Rose Rating: T • ~2.5k words • ao3

Who knew that when his dad had bought David this town as a joke, he’d actually bought him the life he’d always dreamed of but never thought he could possibly have?

-or-

David and Patrick visit the house, tour the house, and move into the house.

Title: "Home" by Phillip Phillips. Yes, I know, this is the cheesiest and most obvious choice, but Patrick kinda did make "this place" (Schitt's Creek) David's home, so I stand by it.

“I just don’t think I’m finished with this place.”

If you had told David when he first moved to Schitt’s Creek that he’d face his parents and his sister in the motel room they grew to call home and say those nine words out loud and mean every single one of them, he’d have told you that you were absolutely incorrect. It did feel a little scary to say them out loud so definitively, even though he knew it was the right — heck, the only — decision; his stomach was tight with anxiety the entire day, only loosening its hold when he saw the joy on Patrick’s face as David stood with Patrick in front of the house and told him he’d put an offer in for it. Or at least, he’d tried to put an offer in; his heart was in the right place, but he had no idea what he was doing.

It had been a combination of his conversation with Patrick and his heart to heart with Stevie that had opened his eyes to the fact that everything he had always wanted that he thought he would find in New York was actually right there in Schitt’s Creek, in the last place he’d ever thought he’d find it. Who knew that when his dad had bought David this town as a joke, he’d actually bought him the life he’d always dreamed of but never thought he could possibly have? People always said that money can’t buy happiness, but David honestly thought he had a uniquely strong example to prove those people wrong. It was a little bit too much to wrap his head around, and the thought of it brought tears to his eyes, something he’d realized had been happening a lot more since Patrick wandered into his life.

Patrick, who stands next to him as they face the house they will soon be calling their home, the two of them alternating between staring at the house and staring at each other. They probably stand in front of the house for longer than is considered socially acceptable for two almost-married people who had just bought their first house together (especially because they have no idea if anyone is even home, and if they are, whether they saw any of the makeout session they’d just had on the front lawn), but they are too happy to care. They are going to get married, they are going be husbands, and this house is going to be theirs.

“At this point, who even needs a wedding, am I right?” Patrick asks David.

“Oh, I do, I need a wedding, big time,” David replies, and Patrick just smiles.

———

Even in the midst of all of the last minute wedding planning (“Oh my God, Patrick, I forgot to pick up the flowers for my bouquet and your boutonniere from the florist!” “It’s okay, David, I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”) David makes sure that he and Patrick find time to actually see the inside of the house; he thinks it would be a good idea to actually make a plan with the current owners instead of just driving by the house and staring at it like he’d done every day, sometimes multiple times a day, since they’d put the offer in.

They close the store early that afternoon and drive over to the house, David’s hand holding Patrick’s tightly between them as Patrick drives. Patrick pulls up smoothly to the curb, putting the car in park before opening the driver’s side door and quickly walking around to the passenger side to open the door for David, who can’t help but smile at his husband’s unnecessary chivalry. Patrick holds his hand out to David, who takes it, standing and using the momentum to pull his almost-husband into a gentle kiss. They walk hand and hand up the path to the front porch, Patrick ringing the bell before smiling at David.

A woman opens the door after a few moments, her eyes crinkling in the corners as her smile spreads across her face. “Well hello again, Patrick,” she begins, recognizing him from their previous meeting, “and you must be David! It’s so great to finally meet you in person — I’ve heard so much about you from your fiancé.”

David blushes a little, though he makes a futile attempt to hide it since he’s in the presence of a complete stranger who is selling them her family’s house; he’s trying to make at least a decent impression so they’ll know their house is in good hands. “It’s lovely you to meet you as well…” he trails off, realizing he doesn’t actually know her name.

“Penny,” she replies, holding out her hand.

“Penny,” David repeats, shaking her hand. Penny looks out behind him and Patrick down the path that lead back to the street, confusion shaping her features. “Is something wrong?” David asks, sudden concern bleeding into his voice.

“Oh, I just figured Ray would be here to facilitate this tour since he’s the realtor.”

Patrick can’t help but let a burst of laughter escape his lungs, prompting David to direct a horrified look at his fiancé. “I used to live with Ray when I first moved here,” Patrick explains to Penny. “I think David and I have spent enough time with him to last a lifetime.”

“Say no more, I totally understand. Why don’t you two come in?” Penny replies, opening the door wide.

“Thank you so much,” David says, he and Patrick following her inside.

David fiddles with the lower of the two rings on his left ring finger as Penny closes and latches the door behind them. As she does, another woman walks into the room, her hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. There are paint splotches all over her light wash jeans and grey shirt and a paintbrush is tucked behind her ear. “Hi David and Patrick, I’m so sorry I look like this; inspiration struck this morning and I just had to get started on this painting before the idea slipped out of my head.” David smiles in understanding, as does Patrick.

“This is my wife Noelle,” Penny says to David.

“Nice to meet you, Noelle,” David says. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He trails off, nodding at the paint splotches on Noelle’s hands.

“No worries, I wouldn’t shake my hands in this state either,” Noelle replies. David immediately likes her.

“Shall we begin the grand tour, then?” Penny asks.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Patrick answers politely.

“I’m going to head back to the garage and work on this painting — I mean, pack up all of the stuff that’s left in there,” Noelle finishes hastily off a stern look from Penny, but David can tell there’s no real force behind it. She waves as she heads back to the garage, and Penny smiles quietly to herself with a look on her face not unlike the one David often sees on Patrick’s face when David gets overexcited like that.

“So as I told Patrick when I called him about the house, our daughters Alexis and Daisy are off to college this fall, so we’re moving down to Florida to be near them. Not too near them though, we want to give them their space and their freedom, but we’d at least like to be in the same country.” Penny laughs. “And we know them well enough that they’ll want us to be close by for when something inevitably goes wrong in their apartment.”

“Your daughter’s name is Alexis?” David asks Penny as she leads him and Patrick into the kitchen. “That’s my younger sister’s name, too.”

“Oh, really? What a lovely coincidence.” David smiles softly. “Does she live here in Schitt’s Creek?”

“She does, but she’s moving to New York City to pursue a career in PR after our wedding.”

“Oh, how exciting!” Penny leans her back against the kitchen counter. “And speaking of, congratulations!” She gestures to David’s rings. “When’s the wedding?”

“September 3rd,” Patrick replies, a huge grin on his face.

“Oh, wow, that’s coming up! I can’t believe you two managed to find time to visit the house with all of that going on; we certainly wouldn’t have had time for anything like this that close to our wedding. And speaking of, let me actually give you the tour instead of talking your ears off.”

Penny shows them around the whole house, ideas for furnishings and color schemes popping into David’s head so fast he can barely type them down into the notes app on his phone. He shares some of them out loud with Patrick as well, and based on the grin on his face that has somehow gotten bigger as the day goes on, he loves them all. By the time they’re about to leave, David has a clear picture of exactly what he wants their home to look like, and he’s itching to grab a pencil and sketch it all out to show Patrick.

“Thank you so much for showing us around,” Patrick says when they’re back at the front door again. “And thank you so much for taking me seriously and actually calling me when you decided to sell. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t just think I was crazy or something.

Penny looks surprised for a moment. “No, of course we didn’t think you were crazy! We thought it was very sweet actually, and I’m glad we could make this happen for you.”

“Us too,” Patrick responds, glancing at David to confirm, which he does with a smile and a nod.

Later that night, David’s at Patrick’s (he basically lives there at this point, if he’s being quite honest) and he’s sitting on the couch with his back against the arm, his sock-covered feet on the cushions and his sketchbook in his lap. Patrick is draped over his shoulders, his arms crossed over David’s chest, pressing kisses to David’s neck as David draws out some of his ideas for their house from earlier that day. He’s sketching out their bedroom, humming to himself as the pencil moves on the page. After a few minutes, he turns around toward Patrick and sets the sketchbook on the arm of the couch so that he can see the page right side up.

“So this is what I’m thinking for our room. We could put the bed against the wall and paint the walls that dark blue that you like and we could get bedding to match and —” David looks up at Patrick and stops, realizing that Patrick has been staring at him the whole time he’s been talking instead of at the drawing of what David’s describing. “Honey, you’re not even looking at it.”

“Hmm, you’re very distracting when you’re excited,” Patrick responds.

“Okay, Patrick, but I need you to look at what I’m describing because I want to make sure you like it so we can order this stuff and get this all ready to go because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be worrying about all of this while we’re on our honeymoon. I just want to focus on being with you.”

David didn’t expect to get this sappy; it must have been seeing the house with Patrick that turned him all soft. Actually, maybe it was just Patrick.

“Fine,” Patrick whines over-dramatically, kissing David’s cheek before picking the sketchbook up and leaning his elbows onto the arm of the couch. He takes his time, running his fingers over the page, careful not to smudge the pencil lines. “I love it. I love you.”

Patrick hands the sketchbook back to David, who takes it with a smile. “Thank you, I love you too. Now let me sketch out the rest of the rooms because I have so many ideas to run by you.” David turns to a blank page in the sketchbook, tapping his pencil against the page as he decides which room he wants to visualize next.

He’s just decided on the dining room when Patrick takes the pencil out of his hand. David whips his head around, incredulous. “And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Making sure that my fiancé takes a break from the constant planning and actually gets some rest since our wedding is only a few days away and I know he certainly doesn’t want the exhaustion to show on his face in our wedding photos,” Patrick replies, holding the pencil above his head where David can’t reach it from his seat on the couch. “You know I’m right.”

“Fine,” David says, closing the sketchbook and resigning himself to his fate. “But you have to come to bed too; I don’t want you to have exhaustion showing on your beautiful face either. And that goes for always, not just at our wedding. You spend way too much time working on spreadsheets and not enough time sleeping.”

Patrick laughs. “Whatever you say, David.”

———

The wedding is beautiful. Even though the rain throws a bit of a wrench into things, everyone in David’s life in Schitt’s Creek rallies together to make the day as perfect as it could possibly be. David has never felt more loved in his entire life.

None of it feels real until the day David and Patrick actually move into their house. He hadn’t realized how much stuff he’d managed to accumulate since moving to Schitt’s Creek until he had to pack all of it up and load it into the moving van. He’d helped Patrick too, especially because so many of his things had ended up at Patrick’s apartment anyway.

They stand in front of the house again, just like they had the day David told Patrick he wanted to stay in Schitt’s Creek, but this time with the moving van in the driveway and the empty house in front of them waiting to be filled with them and their lives and their love. They hold each other close, excited to begin their lives together but not really looking forward to the actual manual labor involved in unpacking everything they own. So instead they procrastinate in each other’s arms, in each other’s faces, in each other’s kisses.

When they’re finally finished unpacking, or at least as finished as they’re going to get on the first day in their new home, David sits down on their bed, pulling Patrick down beside him. “Hi,” he says simply.

“Hi,” Patrick replies. “Welcome home.”

It’s in that moment that everything hits David, even as he’s extremely distracted by Patrick’s mouth on his. He feels a sudden warmth in his chest, and he knows that Stevie was right that day they visited the house — he’d won. He’d really won.

David and Patrick wear identical ear-to-ear grins when they break apart. “I guess it’s time to start thinking about another housewarming party,” Patrick says.

“Sure, but make no mistake, I will be doing the planning this time,” David replies.

[queenvidal]

Reuinons

- 6 months are a long time, they have a lot of catching up to do -

- Work on AO3 -

Chapter 1:

Shepard escapes the elevator to go for the cockpit, Joker pinged her, said she needs to see it herself. What  it is, he did not elaborate but she went nevertheless. Quickly she hurries to her spot to the left side of the pilot seat. “What’s wrong?”

Joker activates his console. A small map of the cluster opens up with three glowing dots on the left corner. This must be the Dalatrass, Victus men and the krogan Clan-Chief. “See that?" Joker asks, his voice barely over a whisper, he is nervous. "They are all just far enough from each other to be not in weapon range. I’m mean no pressure Shep but that is next level tense.”

“Yeah, Wrex told me they could not agree on a neutral meeting ground until now.” She could hear the tiredness in Wrex voice on their last vid-call. When she told him about Victus suggestion of holding the negotiation meeting here on the Normandy, he visibly relaxed. Certainly he would never admit it but Shepard assumed or hoped, it's been mostly because they would be able to finally see each other in person again.

Joker clears his throat, not knowing how to express his concern. “Shep, don’t get me wrong but with you and Wrex… you know, aren’t we considered biased technically?”

Shepard sighs. Not only technically. “Yup, but in the end all three of them agreed. So either they don’t know or don’t care. In worst case though, they will use it against Wrex. We’ll see.” She and Wrex kept their affair private but they didn't hide, still from Shepards point of view, it doesn't seem too likely for Victus and the Dalatrass to know about them. And even if they did, with their consent to the meeting ground and Shepards presence, they agreed on letting private matters slip.

Joker turns his head back to his console again. With a few hand movements over the screens he sends all three fleets a notification of their arrival and their location for the meeting. “I don't like this.” He mumbles. “I really don’t, Lex.”

She pats him on his shoulder lightly, careful not to injure him. “Me neither, Joker. Let’s hope we don’t cause another war.”

All three lights on the map start to move, Shepards sign to get moving as well. She turns on her heels to go back to the elevator. As comfortable as her leggings and the training jacket are, she can’t hold a diplomatic meeting dressed this way.

When she arrives in her cabin, she hangs her jacket over her desk chair. Her long black locks are getting fumbled into a bun before she takes the captain attire out of her small closet. After all this time it still feels wrong to wear what should have been Andersons uniform.

Shep takes a look in the mirror for a second, trying to calm her nerves. As much as she dispides the idea of her being the one who has to beg the other species for help, all of this bullshit has its perks, she'll finally see Wrex again.

But even though Alexis is looking forward to it, she wished it would be under different circumstances. This is going to suck, no matter the outcome. And she has to stay neutral and diplomatic, both are attributes she was always lacking of. She is a soldier, not a politician, she should be fighting alongside with Anderson on earth and not trying to form a alliance between three species, that are hostile towards each other for centuries.

Traynors voice sounds over the speakers, breaking the Shepards train of thought. “Commander, the salarian Dalatrass and the krogan Clan-Chief are ready to come aboard.”

“Have them brought to the conference room, I’ll join in a second.” Shepard buttoms up her formal jacket and checks her reflection one final time before turning to leave her cabin.

Usually she’d be mad that their elevator is taking so long but right now she is thankful for every second she can stay in its small space. But eventually it opens its doors with a woosh, releasing her.

Traynor nods at her Commander with a compassionate smile on her face. Shepard smiles back but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It's uncharacteristically quiet on the deck, everyone is on high alert. The tension is sickening. The two Privates in the scan area salute Shepard as she slowly passes them. They are also absolute quiet.

When nearing the final door to the conference room, Wrex and the Dalatrass can already be heard arguing. Loudly. Alexis takes a deep breath before she opens the door to join them.

The Dalatrass is pacing around. “The krogan is in no position to make demands!”

Wrex just folds his arms unimpressed. “The krogan has a name, Urdnot Wrex. And I am not just some junkyard varren you unleash whenever you’re in trouble."

Perfect. They've just stared and are already on each others throats. Shepard takes her spot at the table, returning to her commander face but the moment her grey eyes lock with Wrex red ones, Shepard can't help but let a tiny smile slip through. The krogan acknowledges her arrival with a nod. Not what Shepard expected after they have been apart for almost six months but considering the circumstances and the audience it is more than she can ask for.

Wrex eyes stay on her a few seconds longer before he continues. “I’ve got my own problems. Reaper scouts have arrived on Tuchanka. So why should I care if a few turians go extinct?”

Primarch Victus mirrors Wrex posture, not impressed either. “Trying to draw out negotiations will get you nowhere, Wrex. I have no time for it! Just tell us what you want for your help.”

The Clan-Chief leans on the table and turns his red eyes to the Dalatrass. “I’ll tell you what I need. A cure for the genophage!”

The eyes of the salarian go wide in shock, everyone at the table is surprised by Wrex demand. Alexis decides to keep her mouth shut, but not so the Dalatrass. “Oh, Absolutely not! The genophage is non negotiable!”

"Wanna bet? Sur'Kesh is still untouched but I wonder how long that will be the case." Wrex voice is dropping even lower. It almost sounds like a threat, making Shepard finally join in.

"Dalatrass, the genophage should be discussed. You can't expect Wrex to sacrifice the krogan race like that! I understand you are opposed with the idea but we are past problems like the krogan rebellion. We have worse to fear.”

But the other woman waves her off. “You are not in the position to say that, Shepard. My people know them best.”

Wrex sneers at her. “According to you no one is in the position to do shit. You used us to fight a war you couldn't win. It wasn’t any of your species or the asari that stopped the rachni. It was krogan blood that turned the tide!”

“Yes.” The Dalatrass admits. “And after that you ceased to be useful! The genophage was the only way to keep your ‘urges’ in check.”

If Wrex eyes could light fire, the salarian would be a pile of ash. Shepard can see how hard he is holding himself back. Back in the day, he would have jumped over the table and snap the womans neck.

Victus interferes, “Dalatrass, you may not like him but Wrex is right. Insulting him won’t change that."

But she just waves him off as well. “I won't apologize for speaking the truth. We uplifted the krogan to do one thing: wage war. It is all they know because it is all we wanted them to know.”

Shepard has to sigh in annoyance again, this is leading nowhere. “Yeah, I think we all went to school and learned about the rachni war, your people's morals behind their actions is a matter to debate but not here-

“I won’t let history repeat!” The Dalatrass interrupts. “Cure the genophage and you doom us all.”

Shepard has enough of this overly dramatic woman. “Whether you like it or not, we all need krogan help to win this war! And obviously and quite understandably they won't fight to extinction, not for you, not for me. They and with that we need a cure!"

“And then what once it is over? We'll simply trade one enemy for another. There won’t be peace because krogans don’t know how-”

Victus slams his fist on the table in frustration “Enough! This is all theoretical. It would take years to formulate a cure. Time we simply don’t have.”

Wrex huffs a sarcastic laugh. “My information says otherwise.” He moves from his spot to the small console on the desk in front of Shepard. While typing in some codes he continues. “A salarian scientist, Maelon. He was on my planet testing a cure on our females.”

He turns his face to Shepard. “You met him.”

She nods. “Yeah and I remember his methods to be baberic.”

“But what you didn’t know is that other females survived his experiments.” He opens up a file and the screen behind them starts to play a video. It shows secret recordings in a salarian laboratory, krogan females locked away in small glass cabins.

“So…” Wrex continues. “The Dalatrass sent in a team to clean up the whole mess and to take them prisoners.”

Oh no. That’s not good. Shepard and Wrex turn to the Dalatrass who seems to be lost for words. “Where did you get this? This could be just a fabrication!”

Wrex storms to her, glaring at her with fury in his eyes. “Don’t dare to insult me! Those are my people and they are immune to the genophage. And you. Give. Them. Back!”

Shepard steps in between them before it escalates, she gently pushes Wrex back who looks at her for a moment before he retreats.

The Primarch leaves his spot as well. “Dalatrass, is this really true?”

But she isn’t answering, instead she ignores both men and turns to Shepard. “How will a cure benefit my people?”

Okay, fuck diplomats and fuck being biased.

“What the hell, are you really that blind? Pallavan is burning right now, Earth is burning right now! And so will Sur'kesh, Thessia and every other damn planet in this galaxy if we won’t cement this alliance. The genophage is going on for almost fifteen-thousand years, the krogan paid for the rebellion, a lot has changed since then! They deserve to be cured.”

The Primarch agrees. “She is right. The hard truth is we don’t have a choice.” He steps closer to the salarian. “Give Wrex what he wants.”

But the Dalatrass just keeps looking at Shepard. "I'm the blind one? Actually I'm afraid your 'sympathy' towards krogans is clouding your judgment."

And here they go. Shepard figured it would be only a matter of time for one of them to bring up their relationship. She wants to answer but Wrex is faster than her.

"Shut the fuck up! Dragging private affairs into this discussion to save your own skin, we all agreed for the Normandy to be the neutral ground, so treat it that way!"

Shepard tries again, in a now calmer voice. “Dalatrass, see that way. Either a cure or a harvested galaxy. Your call."

The salarian woman sighs, finally realising she has been defeated. “The females are being kept at one of our STG bases on Sur'kesh.” She turns to face Shepard again. “But I warn you, Commander. The consequences of this will be felt for centuries to come!”

“Fine by me.” Shepard simply says as she rounds the table to get to the exit “They’ll be nothing compared to what happens if the Reapers win.”

Wrex smiles at his human. “Let's get the my women.”

But the Dalatrass interferes again “You are not setting foot on Sur'kesh! This will take time to-”

“Now!” Victus growls. “It happens now. As a Council Spectre, Shepard can oversee the exchange.”

After a moment of silence all three turn and leave the Dalatrass alone but she speaks up again one final time to threaten Shepard. “I won’t forget this, Commander. A bully has few friends when he needs them most!”

Now it's Alexis time to wave the Dalatrass off with her hand before the door closes behind her. It won't be Shepard, who’ll have to face the Reapers on her own, it’s the salarians if they won’t cooperate.

When the they enter the CIC, both Victus and Wrex turn around to talk to her at the same time. Wrex glares at Victus while trying to dwarf him by looming over the turian. It's obviously a threatening attempt and Victus is getting the hint. He tells Shepard, that he has important business with her to discuss and asks her to see him once she and the Clan-Chief are 'done'.

Both her and Wrex are looking after him, waiting for him to get out of earshot. When the krogan is certain no one dares to listen to them, he returns his focus back to the Commander. “I have to talk with you. One to one, business related, but that can wait.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow in question. “Uhm, okay. Then why did you scare off the Primarch?”

He comes a step closer, entering her personal space. “Private matters.”

Alexis can't help but snort a laugh. “Very smooth, Wrex.” She hopes no one can see the blush of her face when she's making her way to the galaxy map to order Traynor to set course to Sur'Kesh once the Dalatrass passed the exact position of the lab with the krogan women.

Wrex is already standing in the elevator waiting for his human. His eyes are not leaving hers. The blush intensifies and her heart is picking up speed. Wrex ruby eyes always did things to her but right now it's all her mind can think about.

Finally dropping her Commander face, she joins him, smiling from ear to ear. The Clan-Chief slams his fist on the button for Shepards cabin, not paying any attention to the startled humans on deck. Once the doors are closed, they can have the reunion both were looking forward to.

[bravevulnerability]

lover by taylor swift. that’s it, that’s the prompt.

A/N: Set post 4x11, Till Death Do Us Part, during Ryan’s wedding.

“Can I go where you go?Can we always be this close forever and ever?And take me out, and take me home…All’s well that ends well to end up with you” 

-

“One last dance, Beckett?”

Kate turns her attention from the lonely company of her champagne flute to meet Richard Castle’s eyes. He looks dazzling tonight, dapper in his suit with eyes shining so blue; she can’t help but smile automatically. 

“Last dance?” she echoes, abandoning her glass on the bar in favor of his open hand. 

He draws her away from the sidelines and towards the floor.

“Yeah, I hear the band’s playing their final song of the night,” he sighs, casting mournful eyes to the endearing group on the stage. Of Ryan’s many cousins, one happens to be pursuing a career in music and the curly haired blonde stands front and center on the stage, tuning her guitar. 

“Want me to buy you one of their CDs, Castle?” she teases, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the floor by the hand. 

He draws her in with such ease, her body swaying into his like it belongs there. His eyes flash with amusement. “Would you?”

“If that’s what you want,” she muses, finding herself relaxing rather than tensing when his palm drapes at her waist. 

“I’ve got what I want,” he fires back quick, too quick. The lack of thought the comment contained is written all over his wide eyed face. It makes her heart pound wildly, in ways both good and bad, and she so badly wants to reply with just as little thought. Just as much honesty. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I - too much to drink after that first toast-”

“Castle,” she murmurs, tucking her chin into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. His chest shudders against hers, a sigh of relief, and she squeezes the hand holding hers as they begin to sway to the soft swell of the music. 

“Forget I said that,” he chuckles into her ear, so sheepish and shy. Tugging at her heart strings. 

She doesn’t want to forget; she curls her free hand at his shoulder, eases her cheek to rest against the firm bone of his clavicle. She doesn’t want to have to forget this too.

“Shh,” she quiets him instead, quiets the worry she can feel raving through his system. “Just dance with me, Rick.”

The use of his first name has him shifting closer to her, his chin brushing her skull as he lowers his cheek to rest against her forehead.

Her eyes flutter closed like that, with Rick Castle holding her close and safe, letting her forget everything but the sensation of his heart beating steadily against hers. Combined with the slow thump of the drum, the soft whispers of a tambourine, and the low thrum of a bass’s strings, she drifts in a sense of serenity, lets the music, their lyrics, leak into her ears.

And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you,I’ve loved you three summers now, honey, but I want ‘em all.

Kate blinks her eyes open, tries her best not to relate, to think about summers past, about jealousy and old wounds, about how she really doesn’t want to spend this summer apart. 

“Castle?” she murmurs, tilting her head just slightly to catch a glimpse of him. 

“Yeah,” he hums in response, the sound rumbling low and lovely in his chest.

“What are you doing this summer?” 

She catches the confused crinkle of his brow, the flicker of his lashes lowering as his gaze dips to meet hers. 

“This summer?” he repeats.

Her cheeks are growing hot, nerves encroaching on the pleasant warmth in her stomach, and she sucks in a shallow breath for courage. 

“I was just… thinking,” she starts, lifting her head and easing her hand from the embrace of his to converge with her other at the nape of his neck. “The first summer I knew you, not long after you started shadowing me… I didn’t see you that summer, did I?”

“Ah, no,” he winces. “I was banned from the precinct and from your life in general after violating your trust and looking into your mom’s case for the first time.”

And after that was the Hamptons, that dreadful summer he spent with his ex wife and she spent with her bitter regrets. The summer that followed even worse; both of them alone, her with a bullet hole in her chest and him with nothing but her silence. 

She isn’t sure when she fell in love with Rick Castle, but she’s tired of loving him with such loneliness. 

“Any particular reason for this line of questioning?” Castle asks with that tentative but true lopsided grin of his. His eyes are a little anxious when she meets them, anticipating whatever could possibly come next.

“The song… it just-” She bites her lip, feeling foolish, but he isn’t looking at her with anything but sincere interest, patience. Always so patient with her. “Made me think about how I want to see you this summer.”

He stares down at her as if she’s made his entire year. 

“You… want to see me this summer?” he murmurs, curling gentle hands at the bones of her hips. 

Her fingers comb through the fine hairs at the base of his skull and her lips quiver with the yearning for a smile.

She nods. “Yeah. I know you probably have plans for the Hamptons, for you and Alexis, and time for writing-”

“Kate,” he stops her short, stops their tentative dance in the middle of the floor. “I want plans with you,” he confesses, his voice dropping to a quiet husk that has her spine aching to arch, to be closer. “I want to go wherever you go. But that applies to every day life, not just summertime plans.”

She huffs at his smile, crooked and beautiful and reaching his eyes. She buries her own grin in his cheek, feels his breath catch against hers. 

“I just… want you, Kate,” he whispers, a gentle sigh escaping his lips, the heat of his breath trembling along her throat at the admission. “I can wait. For as long as you need, I can wait. I just want you to know that whenever you’re ready-” The graze of his nose to her temple has goosebumps racing down her vertebrae. “I’m here.”

The song they were dancing to comes to a close, tambourine shivering to an end, the crowd slowing to a stop to applaud the band on stage. 

“I still need… a little more time,” she confesses, her own sigh of frustration breaking free. She curls her arms a little tighter around his neck though, prays that he understands, that he can wait a little longer, that he can stay. “But you’re not alone in that, Castle,” she breathes, her heart rioting and risking injury against her ribs. “The wanting.”

His hands leave her waist and her heart seizes, prepares to drop, but then his arms are banding firm and assuring around her waist. 

He turns his head ever so slightly to dust his lips to her cheek, just barely grazing the corner of her mouth.

“All this was inspired by the song that little band on stage played?”

She nearly chokes on her laughter, the relief bubbling in her chest as she nods. The hug of his arms around her frame makes her feel whole, more put together than she has in a long time, smothering the doubts and soothing the spaces inside her that have remained so cold and ragged. 

Beckett sighs, content and letting the curl of her lips linger. “Kinda, yeah.”

Castle eases the strength of his embrace to pull back, allow her a look at his beaming face, his sparkling eyes, the love for her lining the smile claiming his mouth.

“We’re definitely buying their CD.”

[language-of-love]

sweater weather: knitting and scarves…

This is the 2nd part of my sweater weather series. These prompts were submitted by a bunch of you either alone or together (@hullomoon @softjakeperalta and two nonnies). (1300 words, G rated, AO3) I did a unique POV for this one, so I hope you like it!

🍂

“I promise, it’s just yarn. She left the cat hair at home.”

Sally looks up from her seat at the head of the folding table over at David and Patrick by the counter, interest peaked as she hears herself being spoken about. Patrick looks paler than normal, which is actually alarming considering his usual ivory complexion. David had been very clear about Patrick’s allergy, so she’d taken precautions, making sure all the tools she brought for this workshop are free of cat hair and dander. It had given her a good excuse to do a long overdue sanitation.

Looking back at her small gathering of aspiring knitters, she does a quick scan of everyone’s progress to see who might need a bit of guidance.

“Twyla, make sure that yarn is beneath both needles,” she says as she stands to correct Twyla’s fingers. 

The colors of the yarn strewn about the table are a true cornucopia of autumn hues, bright oranges and deep maroon, chocolate brown and even some moss green. Gwen, however, is using jet black and seems to be knitting a mask of some sort, but Sally has learned to just roll with the punches where Gwen is concerned. In a town full of odd ducks, Gwen swims in a pond all her own. Plus, with this being Sally’s first knitting workshop at Rose Apothecary, she aims to just give everyone a fun time and hopefully learn a thing or two (and maybe buy enough merchandise to make David and Patrick want to have her back).

Glancing back over at the counter, she sees Patrick leaning against the register, eyes focused somewhere over Sally’s shoulder. There’s a fond look on his face with a small smile and warm eyes, a not unfamiliar expression whenever she’s caught him in a similar condition. She’d bet good money that David is standing behind her, probably just stocking a shelf or dusting or something equally innocuous. Patrick is the definition of smitten where David is concerned and Sally thinks it’s just the cutest thing she’s ever seen. Sure, David is lovestruck, too, but there’s just something about Patrick’s big round eyes and how whenever David is around there just isn’t anyone or anything else he’d rather see. 

“Hey Sally, I’m getting all tied up here,” Lena calls out, prying Sally’s attention back to the task at hand. Rushing over, she chuckles kindly as Lena lifts her hands and is, indeed, tied in knots. It takes almost ten minutes to extricate her and get her started again, but it proves to be a good primer for the rest of the group as they watch Lena get back on the right track. 

“Everything going okay over here?” David asks as he appears at Sally’s side, his usual congenial smile in place, doing a pretty good job of masking the simmering anxiety that always seems to live somewhere on David’s face. 

“Going great, David. Thanks again for including me in your Autumn Workshop Series. Every little bit of promotion helps, as you obviously know.” 

That anxiety Sally was referring to, it escapes David on a knowing sigh, his facade slipping away as he leans his hip against the shelving. “Oh man, it’s tough, but as long as we all have each other’s backs, we’ll have a good season.”

“Agreed! You guys will be at Saturday’s craft fair in Elmdale, right?”

He straightens at that and sends a wide grin over Sally’s shoulder at Patrick. “We’re sponsoring the awards. And don’t tell him I told you, but that was one of Patrick’s better ideas.”

Sally leans in, whispering under her breath, “Your secret is safe with me. But if you keep smiling at him like that, I think the jig will be up.”

David’s cheeks turn rosy and his eyes shoo away from his partner towards the door and Sally smiles, soaking up as much of the good energy she can from these two before she has to head home to her apartment. It’s been a few years since she lost her beloved Jim and the quiet at home can be overwhelming sometimes. One benefit of small town living though is you never have to be alone for long, unless you want to be. And sure, she never could have imagined that she’d find such joy in the romantic comings and goings of two men, but if you live long enough you eventually come to learn that the less boundaries put on love, the greater joy there is to be found in the world. And David and Patrick, they bring joy to everyone around them.

The workshop ends with everyone promising to check out Sally’s website (the one Alexis helped her get set up that she has no idea how to update) and call her if they have any questions. She lets everyone know that she’ll email them if another workshop gets planned, which David assures everyone will definitely happen. After gathering up all of her supplies, she gratefully accepts Patrick’s help loading everything into her car.

“You can just toss it all in the trunk, thank you, Patrick.”

“No, thank you, Sally, we loved having you.”

Patrick closes the trunk and follows Sally back to the door to get the last of her things. 

“Next time we should make David sit and try to knit something. I have a sneaking suspicion he’d actually be really good at it,” she ventures, imagining David’s meticulous nature could make him an excellent knitter.

“He’d either master it immediately or get completely frustrated, both of which would be endlessly entertaining,” Patrick agrees with a smile. They both laugh as they walk back into the store together.

Reaching into her big bag perched on the folding table, she pulls out two scarves she’d tied up back home with white ribbon.

“Patrick, I wanted to give these to you and David. Just to say thank you, for everything.” Patrick’s eyes widen slightly and she laughs, quickly adding, “They’re cat hair free, only the best yarn for my two favorite guys.”

David steps out of the back room at that moment and crosses over to stand next to Patrick, his smile making it clear he’d heard mention of a gift.

“Oh Sally, you shouldn’t have,” David says as he reaches out for the scarves, looking down to see his name is on one label and the other is for Patrick. Handing Patrick his, David unties the ribbon and lets the scarf unfurl, revealing navy blue ends fading into a jet black center. Patrick does the same and sees that his is the opposite, with black on each end with the same navy in the middle. Sally watches as the two men take in their gifts and both smile almost simultaneously, first at each other and then over at Sally.

“These are perfect, Sally, really…” Patrick says softly as he lifts his new scarf over his head and places it over his shoulders. 

But David, he does the unexpected, stepping forward and drawing Sally into a slightly awkward hug. She smiles into the much taller man’s shoulder, giving his back a gentle pat before he pulls back with a crooked smile.

“I’m so glad you like them. You both seem to have a signature color and I just loved seeing how they worked together in such a beautifully simple way. Much like the two of you, but I won’t embarrass you further with my old lady ramblings.”

They both stumble over their own tongues in an attempt to reassure her that she’s not old and other nonsense, but she just smiles and shuffles them back to work as she heads out the door. As she’s turning the corner, she looks back into the window and catches them wrapped in an embrace, both of them now wearing their new scarves as they share a kiss. 

The joy in Sally’s heart bubbles over into her chest, thankful her small gifts were appreciated. And now, as the weather grows colder, she’ll see them both around town wearing her scarves, reminding her love can often be found in the most unexpected of places. 

[turn-it-off-5s]

ZELDER THAT IS A LOT OF SIBLINGS !!!

Zelder : YES!! And I'm going to tell you about each and every one of them!

Zelder: First up is Noel ! She's 12 and the youngest in the family. Mom says she's going through a bit of a "phase" at the moment but- I guess it's a healthy way of expressing herself ? But anyway, she's great at singing and won quite a few talent shows despite being super shy and, as most of my siblings are, she's great on the farm! She mostly helps with the planting when she's not busy with homework. Oh and I may or may not have cried when she was born. In my defense she was the cutest baby ever. (still kinda is)

Zelder : Next is Philippe. He's 13 and sadly going through this horrible phase of teenage hood where everything is terrible, awkward and. Very sweaty. Hang in there buddy. I heard he spends a lot more time in his room playing video games now but he does have some sort of connection with cows- not in a bad way obviously, the cows really love him is all ! Dad keeps sending me pictures of him stuck in a field because of a cow napping on him. Dad thinks it's absolutely hilarious

Zelder: Oh Bertie!!! I love her- she's 15 and insanely talented! We spent a lot of time watching cartoons together and she kept drawing the characters so now she is an amazing artist! She wants to be an animator so my parents are trying to save up money to send her to a good art school once she's done with high school. She's also very funny and nice and not as shy as you'd expect her to be, I love spending time with her whenever I can!

Zelder : Woop woop! Give it up for the twins! (I'm sorry I don't know what I tried to do here oh gosh) Caroline and Alexis ! Both are 17 but Caroline was born 20 minutes earlier and won't let him live it down. These two are like cats and dogs : Caroline has always been this very extroverted, bright and childish girl while Alexis is much more introverted, calm and- no offense Alex if you're reading this but- terrible at any sort of social interaction. He's very different from the rest of the family but I do like that about him ! Oh and the twins are both Very very strong, I'm sure they could lift a truck if they wanted to!

Next in the family is me so- hi ! Yall already know me so let's move on to...

Zelder : woah I'm surprised I never talked to yall about him before! Okay- no joke but his name is Micheal and he's 20. Yes we do make a lot of jokes about him and Micheals having the same name and my parents would go around at church telling people about their two sons named Micheal or that they should make a group called "The Micheals" since they're both musicians- it was actually very cute~ Anyhow! He's a Mormon like the rest of the family but he decided to not go on his mission to focus on his music career. He's a singer and guitarist! He's got a few songs out which I listen to a lot and my parents try to drag Philippe and Noel to every single one of his concerts. I hope I'll be able to see him play soon!

Zelder: Oooh Jacqueline~ She's 21 and almost done with her mission in Switzerland! We haven't gotten to talk to her a lot since her mission started but let's just say she's doing way better at it than I am (her district is still standing and now that I'm thinking about it, it's not a very high standard...).

Growing up with her she was always really relaxed and chill, she's great at handling other people's tantrums and giving vague yet good advice. She has the same "older sibling vibes" as Davis so I really appreciate having this little piece of home around. Also she has a huge collection of crystals back home and a Kidz Bop mixtape she made for us when we were kids! I miss her a lot ❤️

Zelder : This is Charlotte! She's 26 and recently got married to a man she met on her mission in France. They're both in America right now but they're saving up money to go live in Paris. It's very slow since she's a French teacher in a little high school in Texas but she's very hard working and determined to make her dreams come true so I'm sure she can do it ! What else... Oh right. We used to get into a lot of arguments about everything when we were younger but I still cried when she left to go on her mission... And at her wedding... But I can finally say now that I love her a lot and I know deep down I cared for her back then... She will definitely be using this to blackmail me later. Oh gosh...

Zelder: And finally we have Joseph (we all call him Joe), the oldest at 29 years old ! We are honestly all so proud of him since he dealt with a lot of of problems with his mental health and yknow it was... A lot. But now look at him ! He used to love baking pies with mom and now he has a lovely pie shop in the city, he has an amazing wife and the cutest daughter, his recovery is going so well and he's a wonderful person ! He also spent a lot of time elder Micheals (not my brother) at the worst of his depression, which helped a lot since I didn't always know how to help him and he was there for me too when I wasn't doing too well either. The three of us are really close ! It's amazing to see him now as an adult, he's so wise and so much happier. Things really do get better and I couldn't be more proud of my big brother.

[tetrakys]

Payback

My rewrite of Castie’s date from episode 13. I liked the original one so this is just an extra.

While playing these games I found out I can be a petty person sometimes… apparently my Candy is too.

 —————————————————————————–

This was supposed to be a romantic night out, instead I had never felt this uncomfortable watching a movie before. Castiel was sitting right next to me, but it was like he was far, far away. He was mad, and I knew exactly the reason why.

It had started so well, we had finally found a way to spend some time together. Going to the cinema on a Sunday night wasn’t ideal, but I would have done anything to have a proper date with him. There wasn’t a huge crowd in the movie theatre, still he hadn’t gone unnoticed. People were either looking at us or asking him for news about his next concert. I could tell this made him a little uncomfortable, but when we’d finally taken our seats, he was back to his usual flirty self, ready to spend the next two hours in the dark not watching a single minute of the film.

Right then, a paparazzi had taken our picture. I was surprised and yes, a little annoyed, but whatever, our pictures had already been plastered all over the internet, what was one more at this point. Castiel, instead, was furious. After trying in vain to catch the photographer, he had announced we were leaving.

Just like that.

That irked me like nothing else. A few days ago, he had explained how this was his life now, and I had to get used to it if I wanted to be with him. Was it ideal? No, of course not. But was I complaining? Not at all. Apparently, I wasn’t the one who had problems getting used to it.

I could have behaved as the understanding girlfriend, taken his hand and left the cinema without a word, but that wasn’t me, he knew it very well. He had never been able to boss me around when we were teens, I wasn’t going to let him now. That was actually one of the things he loved about me at the time but, considering the cold vibes he was emanating, I wasn’t sure he still felt the same way right this moment.

All our encounters since we had started dating again added to either locking ourselves in my room for half an hour, or spending the night in his flat. I was his girlfriend, not his secret hook-up, I was promised a real date and that was what I was going to get. I stood my ground and said that I was staying, he was free to leave if he wanted.

For ten excruciating seconds I thought he was really going to take off and stand me up, but he didn’t. He had taken his seat again and hadn’t said a word to me since. We were almost at the end of the movie and he hadn’t touched me one single time.

I felt slightly guilty for sort of forcing him to stay and, to be honest, I would have been more accommodating if it wasn’t for what had happened before the incident. I had kissed him in the hall of the cinema and he had distanced himself, saying that he didn’t like public demonstrations of affection.

SINCE WHEN???

In the past he had been all over me all the time, he didn’t care about what other people thought. I remembered one specific event when he had been a big fan of having an audience.

———————————————————————–

“Woooooow it landed on the student body president!” Alexy cried excitedly. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

I waited several seconds before looking up. How was I going to get out of the situation?! I just had to say no, but no one had refused a dare yet, and no one could know why I couldn’t do it. Why couldn’t the stupid bottle have landed on Castiel?!

Nath stood up while looking at me straight in the eyes. He sat in front of me and he raised a hand to gently cup my cheek. He got close… he was really going to do it! I would have never thought that…

“Hey watch out!” Melody protested while Castiel roughly made his way towards the glass doors.

“Sorry I’m going to go. I’m going to walk around.”

Things were not going well… I couldn’t let him leave. I had to talk to him… Oh well if the others saw me. I rushed out of the room and followed him.

“Castiel…” I said tentative once I caught with him in the farthest and darkest corner of the garden.

“I swear I let it go, but I am not far off from blowing a fuse! If I hadn’t interrupted he would have kissed you!”

He was really furious, I had never seen him so mad before, pacing back and forward trying to calm himself. He kept blubbering about how it was Nath’s thing to go after his girlfriends. I tried to point out that what had happened with Deborah had all been plotted out by her, but he was so angry he was beyond reason.

“Let me remind you he doesn’t know about us!”

“And maybe he should!” he uttered coming towards me. “You know I’ve never been a fan of this idea of yours of keeping our relationship secret, and it seems I was right! Everyone seems to be entitled to take a shot at you!”

“Everyone… Castiel, I know you’re mad, but you’re exaggerating now!”

“Am I?” he replied with an evil smirk, “you have no idea, do you? About how soldier boy has had the hots for you since he was still a scrawny thing. About how the geek acts even lamer when you are around. And…” a pained look crossed his face, “even Lysander, the way he looks at you… my own best friend!”

“Castiel…”

“I should stake my claim, here and now!”

“Castiel, please… I think people noticed us already, please…”

He got even closer to me, his eyes full of rage.

“I don’t fucking care…” he placed his hand against the tree behind me, “and I would have never let him kiss you… I would rather kiss you in front of everyone else in this place.”

He put his other hand on the other side of my face, effectively trapping me between the tree and his strong body. With a glint in his eyes he brought his face closer to mine.

“Who do you belong to, Candy?”

“No one,” I replied.

“Wrong answer,” he said with a mischievous smile, his lips hovering over mine just a breath away, I so wanted him to kiss me.

“I’m no one’s property,” I said stubbornly.

“Mmm…” he caressed my cheek with his lips, so lightly… then left a small kiss under my ear. He wasn’t touching me anywhere else, just his lips tracing a path along my neck, so sweetly it was making me lose my mind.

“Castiel…” I whispered grabbing his t-shirt. “Kiss me…” I asked pleadingly.

“Why should I?” he said, his warm tongue licking my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

“Please…”

“What if someone sees us?” he asked …the devil!

“I don’t care… Castiel, please… I’m yours…” my skin was burning up.

I felt his smirk on my skin, then he placed a kiss on my neck and sucked.

“Ouch…” I blurted surprised at first. Then an amazing sensation took over and I tilted my neck to grant him better access. He sucked for a few other seconds, marking me, his purpose right from the start. When he was done I put my hands in his hair and pushed his face towards mine, lips finally meeting in the kiss I was so desperate for. And that was exactly what it was… a desperate kiss, full of jealousy and possessiveness. It seemed to say, “you are mine, only mine…” and I was replying the same, “you’re mine and I’m yours.”

When I finally came up for air we looked at each other for a while, lost in our own world. Then, with a satisfied smirk he said, “I think he got the message.”

With the corner of my eye I saw a movement on my right… wha… Nathaniel!

“Now he knows he is a dead man if he ever tries to touch you…” he said patting my hair, looking at me lovingly, “now he knows we are indestructible.”

He’d just outed us to Nath on purpose. I should have been mad but… he was right.

We were indestructible.

———————————————————————–

 I wish it had been true. We had crushed and burned, and my heart had broken into thousands tiny pieces. But we had found each other again… it must’ve meant something, damn it!

I couldn’t let this coldness between us last a second longer. Without looking at him I raised my hand to his, on the armchair, intertwining my fingers with his. I felt him stiffen at first, remaining completely immobile for a few minutes.

I stubbornly left my hand where it was and even tightened my grasp. He wasn’t pushing me away and I considered it half a victory. After a while he closed his fingers around mine and we stayed like that until the end of the movie.

“I’m going to walk you back to campus,” he said while the credits were rolling. We headed back to my dorm silently, but his hand was still holding mine.

At some point I had to break the silence, it was awkward and defining and I needed to fix that, whatever that was.

“I don’t care if your life is in the public eye now Castiel. I don’t even care if this means having to spend 99% of our time together locked up in your place alone. But I’m not going to run away from the world. I’m not going to hide our relationship, we are not sixteen anymore. You were right at the time, it was a stupid idea then, and it’s a stupid idea now.”

I stopped in front of the campus gates and pulled him towards me. He was so tall I now had to raise my head to look at him.

“You are everything I want, Castiel. Everything I’ve always wanted. We have a second chance here and I’m not going to waste it being afraid.”

He raised his other hand to my cheek and caressed my lips with his thumb.

“You’ve always been stronger than me,” he said looking at me in the eyes, “and you’ve always been able to calm me whenever I needed it the most, how do you do it? How do you have this power on me?”

“I’m a witch,” I replied with a smirk. Then a very interesting and funny thought crossed my mind and added, “come, walk me to my room, my roommate will be back really late tonight.”

We made our way across the quad and reached the dorm. I could feel a buzz of electricity between us while we rode the elevator. His fingers started drawing small circles in the palm of my hand.

When I finally opened my door, I pulled him inside by his tie and he kicked the door shut behind him.

“So…” I said with an inviting tone, “what was that you wanted to do to me once you finally had me alone?”

He smirked his devilish smile I loved so much, “you really want me to show you…?”

“Mmm…” I replied faking indecision, “maybe I want to be the one to show you.”

I pushed him and he fell with his back on my bed. Raising himself on his elbows, he looked at me hungrily while I walked towards him with confident steps. Straddling his hips, I took his face in my hands and kissed him languidly. He followed me in the kiss immediately, our tongues caressing each other in their own dance.

Putting my hand under his t-shirt, I grazed his rock-hard abs with my nails, getting closer and closer to the button of his jeans, and a moan escaped his lips.

He had just grabbed my ass with one of his hands, to push me closer to his length, when we heard the door open and a surprised yelp, followed immediately by the door slamming back closed.

“Didn’t you say your roommate was out late tonight?” Castiel asked me, looking puzzled.

“Well… I think she got the message, what do you say?” I smirked.

He was completely dumbstruck.

“And you… did you get the message?” I asked mischievously, I lowered my lips to his ear and whispered.

“Payback.”

———————————————————————–

I’m still waiting for Yeleen to run into Castiel in our bed in game.

See? I told you I can be petty.

[joyful-soul-collector]

I think humans are just trying to come up with different ways to have bread with sugar on it

Chapter 5: Scene 1

Hazik

“Jace, what is happening to your planet’s temperature? It is much colder than when I landed here. Is Earth dying?” 

It’d been a few months since Hazik moved to Earth. In that time, Hazik had learned a lot about American life on Earth, their notebook now full of scribbled notes, detailed drawings, and scraps of paper. But Hazik had noticed weird changes in Earth’s temperature and daylight time. When Hazik saw leaves begin to flutter down from the trees and carpet the sidewalks, that they finally asked Jace what was going on.

“No, it’s just Fall,” said Jace, as he looked out the window of their living room. 

Jace also seemed to have learned a bit too. Not about Earth, but about Hazik and Uswarvis. He was catching on to which colors tied to which emotions and didn’t need to ask which meant what nearly as often as he used to. Hazik was having a significantly harder time reading human emotions, though today, on a cold Sunday afternoon in October, Hazik could see plainly that Jace was quite irritated. Not with them, but with the coffee table the two had bought the other day. Though Jace’s frustration did not stop Hazik from continuing to ask questions.

“That sounds bad,” Hazik said nervously.

“It’s not. Hazik, can you hand me those other instructions?” Hazik gave Jace the small paper book, then continued looking out the window.

“But why is the weather cold now?”

“These instructions don’t make sense.”

“We did not have this ‘Fall’ on Uswarvis.”

“Oh, I’m reading the Spanish side.”

“Where are all the animals? I recall there being a significant amount of those little bushy tailed things when I arrived here.”

“Wait, even in English this doesn’t make sense. What even is that part?”

“Jace will you answer me?” Hazik said, frustrated now and turning to face their friend.

“Why is putting together a coffee table so complicated!?” Jace shouted at the various parts scattered about the floor. 

“Jace, why is everything dead?!” Hazik shouted at Jace, who jumped and fell backwards onto the floor, his pencil skidding away from him.

“Everything isn’t dead, it’s just the seasons!” he said exasperatedly, as he pushed himself into a sitting position again and scooped up his pencil. He looked up at Hazik said, “The Earth’s axis is all tilted and weird, so now we get cold weather half the year, and hot weather the other half. Uswarvis doesn’t have seasons?”

“No, because unlike humans, we did not damage our axis.”

“Actually, the tilted axis is one of the few things humans didn’t cause. You wanna blame someone, blame the giant meteor that hit us millions of years ago.” Jace picked up a part and scrutinized it carefully.

“Oh. So, humans just, survive the cold until the warm comes back?” Hazik said looking out the window again at the red and orange trees planted next to the road.

“I guess, but then we have to survive the heat until the cold comes back,” Jace said without looking up.

“That is insane.”

“That’s how it’s been for forever.” He paused for a moment, before finally looking up at Hazik with a slightly tense look. “How cold does it get on Uswarvis?”

“It doesn’t. It is just the same— you called them seasons? It is the same season all the time.”

“Wait, so you’ve never seen trees lose their leaves or anything? Have you ever seen snow?”

“What is snow?”

Jace grinned like a child with a juicy secret. 

“Ooooh, okay I won’t spoil it but it’s pretty awesome. Amazing actually. But do you think you’ll be okay in the cold? What if the environment is too different?”

“Oh, I am sure I will be fine. I can always wear a coat. Besides, different can be good,” Hazik said, looking down at Jace. Jace relaxed, looking a little relieved. 

“Well that’s good. Wouldn’t want you to go and die two days before my birthday would we?” 

“Birthday? What is a birthday?” Their eyes glinted with curiousity. 

Jace stared at them for a moment, with the same look he’d given them in the store all those months ago, which Hazik knew to be surprise now. 

“Whenever you ask a question I’m always reminded of exactly how much exists in the world,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Hazik.

“It’s the day you were born,” he continued. “Most people celebrate it on Earth. You sing a song and you blow out candles on a cake, you’re given presents and food and you might have a party with friends or family. Do Uswarvians not celebrate birthdays?”

“Well no. A year on Uswarvis is much shorter than a year here. We would celebrate our birthday every three months or so if we celebrated birthdays. It would not be special like it is here.”

“Huh. So, how old are you?” Jace said, tilting his head to the side.

“By Earth years I am about your age, maybe a little older,” Hazik answered. “But by Uswarvis years, I am seventy.”

“Wow…” Jace trailed off. He was looking at the instructions upside down now, but was not actually reading them. He seemed to have given up on building the table.

“You said your birthday is in two days?” Hazik said.

“Yeah, October twenty-fourth,” Jace replied.

“Will you be inviting anyone over for a party? Will it be like the Fourth of July party you had?”

“Well birthdays don’t generally have fireworks if that’s what you’re asking. And I rarely have birthday parties, so there won’t be anyone over.”

“Oh? Why not?” Hazik said. Why does Jace do things differently than what he says normal humans do? He always explains what normal people do, and then does the opposite thing, Hazik thought. 

Jace seemed to be different from normal humans, but he wouldn’t say exactly why. It’s just that he was. 

“I dunno,” Jace said, bringing Hazik out of their thoughts. “I’m just gonna take the day off from work. I’ll visit my mom, watch tv all day and order pizza. That sounds fun.”

“Visit your mom?” Hazik’s eyes widened, and they stared at him. 

In the few weeks Hazik had known him, Jace had never talked about his life, besides his friends and work. And even then, those were restricted. Hazik had no idea how he’d met Kita or Axis, or how he came to work at the movie theater. He’s been like this ever since I met him, Hazik thought, remembering how Jace had dodged the question of where he got his car, Serenity. That was way back on the day Hazik first moved in.

He always seemed to dodge every question, always saying that it “wasn’t interesting”, or “maybe later”, always changing the subject just before Hazik could get to what they wanted to know.

“Yeah, you can come if you want. I’ll only be there for a few minutes,” Jace said, snapping Hazik out of their thoughts, again. They looked at Jace, whose face was completely blank, still staring at the upside-down instructions, and scratching at the scar on his nose as he thought. Suddenly he blinked and seemed to come out of a trance, much like Hazik had just done. 

“I think I’m gonna finish this table later,” he said with a small laugh.

“You mean start it later.”

“Shut up.”

End Scene

Tag List: @timetravelingpigeon @alexis-writes-sometimes @txintedsxint @purpleshadows1989 @gabbysmadness @thescholarsninja @writing-frontiersman @midnight-dancer-daydreamer @musicofglassandwords

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[shadowdianne]

Vow (I will follow, no matter what) [Dishonored 2]

There is something called canon but since canon is stupid I’m not even going to bother with it.

Facts about the game. Yes, I know Emily sort of got her powers the very same day they reached Karnaca but, allow me.

Also, since I’m talking about this: There is this very cool art that should be seen and shared ad infinitum.

Well, enough Xd Dunno who will end up reading this but let’s get on with it; shall we?

@niki-frost Thing has been done! It’s basically 6am so I’ll come back later for a proper editing. But here it is! ^^

The scent of saltpeter assaulted her senses as she opened her eyes and, for a second, Alexi felt disoriented while she blinked owlishly; the rocking sensation she vaguely remembered that had followed her once she had finally closed her eyes a few hours ago still echoing throughout her body. Wincing as the vague shapes of thrown-away wood crates that stunk of rotting whale meat begun to grow more prominent through the corner of her eyes, she found herself staring at the ceiling of what she now recognized as a boat.  

The dreadful whale. The name floated inside her head, the letters colored in faded white, reddish at the corners due to badly washed blood and she couldn’t help herself as she felt a shudder running through her body; cold sticking to the sweat that had coated the loose tank top she wore. Despite the fairly flimsy material, she still felt its weight against her muscles and she bite down on her bottom lip while her right hand dipped beneath the sheets that covered her, the slowly healing scar that awaited on her torso still tender and warmer than the rest of her body.

Drawing slow, lazy lines around the jaded borders of the scar, she couldn’t do anything but shiver a second time as the images that had plagued her dreams ever since Dunwall had been left behind; images of death, blood and the mixed scent of gunpowder and whale’s oil. The same one that, with its eerily blue glow, powered the belly of the ship she was currently in. Not that she had been too keen on going there ever since they both had embarked. No, that had been something Emily had done; her eyes just as dark as the thoughts she could see peering through them every time she thought Alexi wasn’t looking.

Emily. The name made her crane her neck at her left; at where Emily had still been studying Karnaca’s maps when she had finally kissed her on her temple, asking her to try to fall asleep. A wish she knew wouldn’t be headed. It wasn’t, she admitted to herself while moving her hand away from the scar, letting the fabric of the tank top cover it once more, like she could blame her.

The other woman was giving her back at her, her form a blurred figure in the darkness that covered the room, but Alexi was able to listen to the sound of her breathing reaching towards her through the distance that separated them. A soft snoring that she had teased the Empress with endlessly the times they both had allowed themselves to lounge in bed; early meetings and Alexi’s own shifts be damned. Emily had always feigned to be appalled by how Alexi impersonated her, the pretended snoring always dissolving into a fit of laughter when the dark-haired woman started to tickle her. Now, as the former Captain of the Guard eyed the sleeping Empress, she couldn’t stop the sad smile that curved her lips.

If either of them had known how the Anniversary would play out…

Shaking her head, Alexi took a gulp of air, the saltpeter’s scent still pungent and seeming to grow stronger by the second. There was no point on thinking on what they both would have done. Neither of them had that privilege, not anymore.

And that was what maybe scared her more; she had spent the majority of her young and then adult life knowing fully well that she had been prepared to all sorts of situations in order to defend the live of the woman that laid in front of her. Not having the resources, or the answers, to do it scared her more than anything. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she considered moving closer to Emily; hug her and let sleep win over her once more. At least until the weak light beams that would signal a new day would awaken them both.

Careful on not putting too much strain on her torso she scooped closer: closing the few inches that were between her and Emily in the narrow mattress Meagan had provided for them. The woman had not blinked twice when Alexi had grasped Emily’s hand as Dunwall’s shore disappeared into the fog the ship cut into like a knife, and, despite being weak and nauseous after needing to run from the people she had once considered friends, coworkers, with blood spilling over the rushed done bandage Emily had been able to create up Dunwall Tower, Alexi had felt a rush of gratitude cursing through her veins.

Gratitude at not even needing to put the mask Emily and she had become so adept at using whenever they were in the presence of others, others who didn’t know their secret. A secret that she suspected Corvo knew. Even if the man never said it.

Her thoughts about the silent man were interrupted, however, when she felt a cold droplet splashing against her forehead. Frowning and stopping her arm in midair, she rose it towards her skin, water coating the tips of her fingers once she looked at them.

With the stench of salt and rotten meat only growing thicker, Alexi looked up at the ceiling, halfway worried the leaks she had spied at the main quarters of the ship had somehow started to form in the tiny cabin she was in. Her eyes, however, widened, as she found herself staring at a vast expanse that seemed to stretch miles above her head; giant shapes of a darker indigo peppering what couldn’t be described as pitch darkness but something much more sinister.

Twisted shapes of what seemed to be ships rising from the now disappeared ceiling, Alexi swallowed down a scream as a giant, empty eye floated towards her. An eye that, as if underwater, twirled over itself before it got swallowed back by the writhing darkness that seemed about to suffocate the small cabin in where the walls themselves were already disappearing: replaced by jaded slabs of broken and onyx-like stones.

Clearing her throat, Alexi glanced at her side, at Emily’s still unmoving form. The sheets and the posture she was in obscured her face from her but Alexi was able to distinguish the tensioned muscles of her lover’s back, the way her posture looked as if it had changed. Fearful something had happened to her and momentarily deciding to forget the shoals that floated between yellowed sails, Alexi reached for the other woman, her fingers not even caressing Emily’s shoulder when she tried to speak.

“Em…”

Her voice halted as Emily’s silhouette disappeared in a plum of smoke, the almost liquid nature in where it floated away mesmerizing Alexi for a second before she lunged forward, her torso protesting and her legs getting tangled into the sheets. Arms digging into the quickly disappearing smoke, she called Emily’s name a second time, the panic tinting her vocal chords strumming through the darkness, echoes of it returning to her; distorted to the point of being unrecognizable.

Kicking the sheets away, Alexi rose to her feet, glancing around to what didn’t seem to be a cabin any longer but just an extension of the stone slabs. The sword she had been able to steal before embarking was nowhere to be seen, even if she could remember leaving it close to the bed; the fact that they were in the middle of the ocean not helping her feel safe. Growling and feeling dizziness starting to overtake her, as if she was still in the ship, waves caressing the hull, she gulped down a sob while she called for Emily a third time.

The voice that answered her was deeper than the Empress’, its tone dispassionate, cruel, and Alexi stumbled as a mirthless “Try again” rose from around her, seeping into her bones while she turned towards the missing walls.

There, standing taller than she was, sclera as dark as the expanse that rose above them both, a man awaited.

She had never been followed Faith closely. She, like many others that came from humble beginnings, didn’t buy on the Overseers tales of piety. But she had heard the tales of what Corvo had done during The Plague, she had seen the troubled eyes the man always sported whenever someone mentioned the mark on his hand. The same one Emily had started to cover after their first night on the ship; answers to where it had come from cagey, full of fear as she seemed to blink away from existence; tears dangling from her eyelashes, skin tender and raw.

She had played enough at Potterstead’s shores to have heard of those pieces of bone that sometimes floated towards the blood-soaked sand. The ones one wasn’t supposed to take home, the ones that granted images of grandeur as they slowly ate you from inside, turning you into a skeleton, a shadow, of what you once were. She had heard enough descriptions, enough tales she had liked to believe were just stories to keep children as well-behaved as possible.

And it was precisely because of this, because of the paintings she had seen displayed on some of the balls she had attended as Emily’s bodyguard, that she knew who the man was.

She could only thank her training for the way her legs didn’t tremble as she stood as tall as she was; peering into the dark eyes of the stranger, chin raised and hands turning into fists.

“Where is she?” She asked, and her voice echoed once more, as if coming from a well; as if the noise itself was being sucked by the mere presence of, who she knew, could only be the one who some prayed to; his cult as old as the bones over where Dunwall had been built.

The Outsider smirked, his body distorting before it gained definition once more.

“Not here.” He provided and Alexi knew she wasn’t going to get a clearer answer. She had heard whispers of course, of those who, ingesting the drug present on what they later on used to create the darts some members of the Guard used, were able to sense the presence of the being that now stood in front of her. She wondered if this wasn’t the case: if the food she had ingested earlier wasn’t doused off with some of the substance.

No point on wondering. If she had been brought to the Void she was just a pawn for the man in front of her.

“Why I’m here then?”

The man tilted his head to one side, the brown clothes he wore plain and unassuming. A contrast so powerful against his eyes that Alexi bite back a nervous chuckle. One that died on her lips the moment The Outsider spoke again.

“You weren’t supposed to survive.”

Hands rising towards her wound, Alexi fully expected to see them coated in blood. Yet, the scar was still closed when she felt the protuberance of the healing skin and she felt the bitter taste of wounded pride sliding down her throat as the man laughed. The sound of it felt like nails on her body; pulling from her insides and so she clutched her fingers against the tank top, pulling the material away from her as she waited.

Eventually, her curiosity slid through the darkness, effectively stopping the laughter.

“Why?”

The man hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and Alexi dragged out a shuddering breath as she felt the touch of something cold, slimy, at the back of her neck.

“You weren’t.” He replied, his voice not holding any hint if the fact disappointed him or not. “But Emily saved you, helped you. Almost got discovered as you slithered through the streets of what have been your home for years.”

Alexi said nothing, the images the words evoked enough for her to remain silent. She had told Emily more times than she was able to quantify that she was the one that needed to flee the city. That she needed to leave her behind. Emily wasn’t prone to crying, never had been, but her hot tears and the anger that had sharpened the angles of her face as she shook her face and kissed her, irate, had been more than an answer for her pleas.

“She is stubborn.” She found herself saying once the silence stretched and the man’s lips curved in a lopsided smirk, one that made Alexi think on the dark ichor whales exuded as they were being drained.

“Which makes this all much more interesting.” The Outsider pointed at his back, at where the expanse grew lighter for a moment, the shadow of a stone-made Emily blinking into existence. Face contorted in fear, the statue held her sword- Corvo’s sword- on her right as her left arm was pressed close to her chest, the shape she had seen on her hand prominent even from this distance: glowing gold. “I have granted her my gifts.” The man’s voice was fading, and Alexi focused on him once more, trying to commit every detail to memory. “I wonder, however, how your influence will affect her. Will there be chaos? Or order?”

The last consonant cluster reached Alexi just as the man’s figure disappeared, turned into the same dust Emily had left behind. Sight already darkening once more, Alexi grabbed into the slabs, pain shooting up her arms as she fell to her knees, her wound throbbing, as she fought to keep on breathing.

“Alexi? Alexi!”

She recognized the voice that reached through her, Emily’s worried face the first thing she saw as she blinked back into consciousness. No great expanse around her, no creatures floating on their own blood, Alexi realized she was clawing at her midsection, the burning sensation still present and haunting. The cabin was still dark but the light was grey, showing the first signs of the upcoming morning, the kind of one Alexi was ready to welcome with open arms.

“Emily.”

Her voice was faint, her throat protesting as she swallowed, and she felt parched when she licked her bottom lip: her tongue clumsy against her teeth. When she zeroed on Emily again the worry on the other woman’s eyes had transformed into cautiousness, pupils trembling as the Empress gaze roamed her limbs, stopping at her hands. Almost as if she was expecting…

Alexi let out a broken sound, one that she wasn’t even sure if it was a sob or a chuckle. Shaking her head, she rose both of her hands, the effort that took making her feel dizzy once more while the other woman moved back, kneeling on the mattress as Alexis propped up against the headboard of it.

“I’ve seen him.” Her confirmation didn’t dissipate Emily’s obvious worry and she found herself sitting straighter, mid-prepared to stand. “The…”

She halted. There was no point on spaying his name. They both knew who she was referring to.

Emily’s own hands trembled on her lap, the cloth she had started to wear around her wrist and left hand askew as she picked on her fingers, playing with them in that nervous tick Alexi always told her was horrible for politics. Moving forward and grasping the hands, caressing the back of the cloth with one thumb, Alexi parted her lips; ready to try again.

“He told me you have been gifted.”

Emily didn’t deny it, but her eyes turned troubled and Alexi felt the prickle of fear growing at the back of her skull once more. Fear for what the conversation could have been like for the Empress to be so doubtful, so fragile.

“I’m not sure if I will…” The woman’s melodic accent stopped as she did, the sound reaching Alexi as she glanced down, at the faint black lines she was able to see.

“You should.” She found herself saying and she wondered if this was what the Outsider had said about her; about her changing what seemed to be  a mere game for the man. Shaking her head, she grasped Emily’s left hand tighter, letting the other fall free from her grasp. Nodding reassuringly, Alexi tried to smile.

With the Outsider’s help they could have a chance. However tiny it was. And Emily would have her at her side. She would take care of what it would need to be taken care of. Be that a killer or the Outsider himself.

“He gave you this.” She said, softly, and Emily nodded at the words. A sight Alexi felt drunk from. Fear dissipating, she tried once more. “He has given you his mark. Using it won’t…”

She didn’t use the verb she knew both of them were thinking: corrupt you.

It wasn’t one she wanted to even think about. And so, she plowed through.

“He didn’t give me his mark though, he also told me I should be dead.” That escaped her mouth in one single breath and she found herself being yanked away from the bed as Emily moved backwards, their hands still intertwined.

“He what?”

Nodding, Alexi moved her hand up Emily’s forearm, noticing the way the fabric of the long-sleeve blouse the woman wore bunched against her clammy fingers.

“He told me I should have died.”

It was quieter this time and Alexi sighed deeply as Emily pulled her closer, freeing herself from her grasp and rising her marked hand up to her cheek, the signet ring gleaming into the dim light.

“It doesn’t matter.” She begun, and Alexi wanted to laugh. Only Emily would deny the word of an otherworldly being after all. “You are alive. You…”

The two of them glanced at where the top covered Alexi’s wound and, almost reverently, Emily began to move the fabric up, muscles and tender skin jumping to her touch before Alexi was able to repress her reaction.

She couldn’t swallow down a curse as Emily did the same in front of her however; where an angry scar had been a few hours ago the faded color of a completely healed skin welcomed them both now. The line of where the sword had dug into her insides completely was healed and just a shade darker than the rest of her body. As if it had been done years ago; as if it hadn’t been her almost demise.

“Maybe you have been gifted after all.” The murmur made Alexi look back up towards Emily’s face, tears welling up her eyes.

“I can’t…”

Her response died down as Emily closed her eyes and shivered, sobs so soft they almost went unnoticed, wrecking through her.

Sneaking her left hand towards the dark-haired woman’s back, Alexi pulled her closer, the distance minute enough so she could feel her body, no shadow, no trick, on the way she felt the other woman’s hiccupped breathing.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and Alexi’s heart stuttered. “I just, what if I wouldn’t have tried to pry the door open? What if…”

“I couldn’t die before I knew you were safe.”

The words left her mouth before Alexi was even fully aware of them, but she knew they rang true when Emily nibbled at her lip, eyes opening once more as she pressed her forehead against her.

“I still won’t.”

It was a heavy promise, the kind of one that shouldn’t be said but Alexi felt confident on it; on what it entailed. Outsider’s help or not.

Blindly reaching for Emily’s lips, Alexi dropped a peck on them; a vow made.

A vow she would fight against the Outsider for, a vow she would fulfill.

“I won’t leave.”

And she felt the words thrumming as Emily nodded, craning her neck and kissing her back. Fully.

She would stay. Right where she was. For Emily. For them.

[gatecoeur]

STUDY: Arelette “Arrie” Gâtecœur

APPEARANCE.

height: tall / short / average?

tall, for a woman at least. she’s naturally 5′7″, but being a shapeshifter, that’s prone to change.

are they okay with their height?

of course she is; she honestly think she’s at the perfect height for a woman; taller than most, but not so tall that she can’t find taller male partners, if she desires that. however, it does rub her the wrong way when she is called short; enough for her to make changes to that if the teasing is constant enough.

what’s their hair like?

shoulder length, wavy and messy, much like the image above, albeit maybe a bit messier. naturally brown, with natural highlitghts of a shade of brown light enough to be mistaken as blonde. again though, as a shapeshifter, this can easily change.

spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming?

when it comes to combing her hair, no, though it is a bit of a bad habit at this point, as her hair can sometimes get tangled or knotted. she does take great care in how she washes it though. as for other bodily hairs, well... it’s not exactly necessary for her to groom regularly. her body does that for her.

care about their appearance / what others think?

absolutely, especially concerning her true form. she does her damnest to hide the fact, but it gets hard once she gets close enough to people; the opinions of loved ones will always matter to her. despite growing up surrounded by supportive people, self-esteem has been an issue for her since she was 7, though she gotten to the point where she is able to accept herself on most days.

PREFERENCES.

indoors or outdoors? 

outdoors for sure.

rain or sunshine?

sunshine. as calming as rain can be, there’s always the threat of one of the few things she innately fears; thunderstorms.

forest or beach? 

forest, though she does not mind the beach. she simply feels more at home among trees.

precious metals or gems? 

probably precious metals. gems are nice, but at times they draw too much attention.

flowers or perfumes? 

flowers. some perfumes are strong enough to give her headaches.

personality or appearance?

personality. it’d be a lie if she said that looks never mattered to her, but she’d much rather give her heart to people who actually deserve it.

alone or in a crowd?

depends. she much prefers the in-between though; being among a beloved few

order or anarchy?

probably anarchy. she recognizes the need for order, but order is also what ruined a life she could have had.

painful truths or white lies?

most of the time, white lies. painful truths are sometimes necessary though.

science or magic?

despite being a woman of science, magic will never cease to amaze her. she would argue though that they’re one and the same thing.

peace or conflict?

peace. she’ll never back down from conflict if the need arises, but given the life she leads, she sometimes grows tired of it.

night or day?

night

dusk or dawn?

dusk

warmth or cold?

warmth. she was raised in the cold; loves the feeling of cold crisp air filling her lungs. however, nothing is more satisfying than clutching onto a warm cup of coffee and snuggling in a blanket after suffering the winter elements.

many acquaintances or a few close friends?

ironically has many acquaintances, but prefers to have close friends.

reading or playing a game?

playing a game. she rarely has enough time for it though, not to mention not many people to play with...

QUESTIONAIRE.

your muse’s bad habits?

neglecting her own needs for the sake of others, be it physical, mental or emotional. she’s incredibly willing to give, but rarely asks for anything in return, even when she should. is also very emotionally-driven; she is more than capable of thinking through things logically, but under the right conditions, emotional manipulation can throw all of that right out the window.

lost anyone close to them? how it affects them?

she lost her parents to a car crash. given that there was no suspected foul play though, she’s accepted their deaths, and is ferociously protective of what family she has left because of losing them. as for her brother, his disappearance diverts her attention every time there’s even a rumour of someone with his abilities somewhere in the world, and leaves her sleepless whenever she tries to track him down. she’s obsessed with finding him, and grows aggressive whenever it’s suggested that she either give up or accept that he’s probably dead.

what are some fond memories they have?

the summer trips to her original hometown of saint-alexis-des-monts. her first time sparring whilst studying kyokushin. the quieter nightly patrols, back when she was part of les chasseurs. surprisingly enough, she also has a lot of good memories of travelling the world whilst in hiding, despite the circumstances. 

is it easy for them to kill?

on a whim? absolutely not. for someone she deems deserving of death, after every other option in her mind has been considered? without hesitation.

what’s it like when they break down?

quite literally shoving herself into a corner, her body curled up into a sitting fetal position. lots of head, face and arm scratching, sometimes with claws but rarely ever drawing blood. lots of sobbing, though she’ll muffle herself to the best of her abilities. things are bound to be thrown or broken beforehand. once the tears stop, she’s likely to grab herself the hardest liquor available or some weed and drown herself in intoxication before dragging herself to bed.

capable of trusting someone with their life?

usually no; not because she can’t trust someone to save her, but because she can’t trust them to save themselves after the fact. Arrie refuses to face a situation where she’s saved when not everyone else can be.

what’re they like when they’re in love?

behaves like she’s been touched starved on the initial crush; she constantly needs to cuddle something whenever she’s at home, though it’s usually a pillow or a blanket. also very protective, though she constantly keeps herself in check to make sure that she’s not fightin someone else’s battles when they’re more than capable. Arrie will overthink many of the interactions with the person of her affection until they verbally confirm to her that the feeling is mutual. once that happens though, she’s all in. Arrie will try to learn everything she can about the person’s likes and interests without being invasive, and will try anything to indulge them, be it through gifts or actions. she’s also very affectionate physically, taking any opportunity she can to either cuddle her significant other, hold their hand, or kiss them. lastly, she’ll do her best to verbally show her love; it’s often done through pet names, but her most intimate words are “I care about you.”

Tagged by: @huntingbounties​ Tagging: whoever wants to do this.

[primal-screamer-blog1]

Ruby loved being under the red lights. She was Mexican and Japanese, a tiny, bronzed, energetic spitfire with wide hips and impossibly long legs.  Legs that drove men from all over California to see in the flesh.  And after hours on the 405 for a long L.A. weekend, flesh was exactly what they wanted. They’d line up and lay down hundreds for her to crawl into their laps, wrap her long athletic legs around their necks and writhe on top of them.  And Ruby wasn’t the only one drawing a crowd; Seventh Veil was home to some of the most sought after women in Los Angeles.  Between Ruby, Roxanne, Alexis, Lola, Kenzie and Jade, the headlining girls of Seventh Veil were just as well known, if not moreso, than the boys in the bands that they all dated.  In their big cars, with their big hair, they commanded the strip, bringing in money, men and any excess they could ever want. Naturally there was a cover charge. “C’mon, what about $10? I got a 10.”  Nikki pleaded with the bouncer, a tall, muscular man named Rob who wore all black and had a tattoo of a shark on his neck. “How you gonna afford to tip these girls if you can’t even get in the door, kid?” If it were anyone else, Rob would’ve had Nikki out on his ass for talking him down to half price.  But Nikki had been coming around for as long as Ruby had been working there; all the boys in Motley Crue had.  The rock n’ roll of the strip had quickly become the lifeblood of the clubs.  He knew Nikki was trouble, but not the kind of trouble he would ever have to worry about. “I’m gonna tip, I’m just not gonna be here for too long is all.  One dance and I’m out, I swear.” “Nikki!  Please. Spare me the sob story.  You could have any of these girls all over you for free anytime you want. Why are you trying to pay for a lap dance?” Nikki sighed and tried to look inside over Rob’s shoulder.  He couldn’t see past the obnoxious fake smoke that fogged up the entryway.   “I just gotta talk to Ruby.” “Yeah?” Rob laughed. “You and ‘bout every other red blooded male in California. She making you pay for it all of a sudden?”“I don’t pay for shit, man.  Look, this is the only place I can talk to her without her trying to fucking kill me. I got a show tonight anyway, I swear I'm in and I’m out.” Nikki held two fingers up. Rob shrugged and lifted the red velvet rope separating the two of them.   “You got an hour.” “You fucking rock, man.” Through the plaster Arabian palace archway and neon signage, Nikki made for the bar.  If this conversation were going to go the way he wanted it to, he’d need their tallest, cheapest shot.  Leaned against the bar top, Roxanne was on her break, sipping a diet coke and flipping through a copy of  Cosmopolitan.   “Nikki?” Her melodic voice called over to him.  She smiled and waved him over with a manicured hand.  Roxanne was a tall, slim strawberry blonde with big blue eyes and big tits.  She wore white cowboy boots and a red one piece with blue and white fringe, a costume she’d come up with for her “American Woman” number that Tommy really loved.  He also loved her freckles.  Nikki wrapped her in a short hug and let his hand rest on her hip.  “Hey Roxanne.” “You haven’t been here in a  while  , Nikki!  Where’ve you been? Making Tommy wander out all on his own!” She had a sweet, southern accent that always made him smile. “I’m sure Tommy’s doing just fine without me.” “We make sure he has fun out here.” She giggled and sucked down nearly half her diet coke, letting out a tiny burp.  It made sense that her and Tommy got on as well as they did.  “Does Ruby know you’re here?” “Not yet.  Was hoping to chill out a little bit before talking to her.” “You comin’ to apologize?” “Apologize for what?” He gave her a shy grin. “Oh c’mon, Nikki.  You’re on the shit list and you know it.  She told us all about what you did.”  “She did?” He winced.“Been talkin about it since she got here.” She went behind the bar and poured him a tall glass of Jack and Coke.  “On the house.  You’re gonna need it.” “Is she that mad?” He took the mixing straw and tossed it in the trash, taking a big swing instead. “Boot in the head didn’t let you know?” “Okay.  Point taken.  I’m an asshole.” “Just say you’re sorry, Nikki.  It’s not a big word.  She’ll forgive you.” “Where’s she at?” “On stage, dummy.”  Roxanne giggled and pointed behind him. Ruby was crawling down the catwalk towards the tip bar where a cute blonde boy held two twenties in the air.  The room was full, men talking and laughing, pinching Alexis or Lola on their asses as they worked the room while Ruby danced.  She wore a studded red leather harness on top of a black g-string pulled high up above her ass and a black satin bra. Her strappy black stilettos brought her tiny 5’3 frame to 5’7 and her long black ponytail, teased up high made her look even taller.  Up in lights, she unfolded herself into a split to “Slave” by the Rolling Stones.  She tucked the boys money into her g-string and fell back into him, laughing and wriggling in his lap.  Next to him, his drunk friend howled and threw a handful of ten dollar bills on her chest.  She pulled herself up on stage and spun around on the pole before pulling her bra down to reveal a set of black sequined pasties. She fell down into another split, tossing her bra at the high tippers. Nikki stood back and watched her.  He’d seen her dance plenty of times before; they met outside three years ago trying to buy drugs from each other.  Nikki always loved seeing a hot woman dance, but something about watching Ruby specifically was fun for him.  She danced the same way she played music.  When she took the stage, she showed something vulnerable and something wild that he’d never seen in a woman.  Raised to adhere to strict social conservatism, Ruby was brought up in the elite high society of Manhattan.  It was a complete accident that, while attending an all girls boarding school, she was introduced to Black Sabbath and AC/DC records.  Every Tuesday after her SAT prep, Ruby’s mom paid a 19 year old college student to teach Ruby classical piano.  In reality, she was learning to play ‘Crocodile Rock’ and memorizing the names of singers in metal bands.  In no time, she was sneaking out to meet punk boys at hip, underground parties in Brooklyn where she saw bands like the Stooges and the Ramones.  It was when the Germs toured through the city that a young Lorna Doom handed off a copy of California punk zine  Flipside   to Ruby.  After that, she became obsessed with maps of Los Angeles and would harass the local record store to bring in X tapes every time she went in.  When she turned 17, a boy she was dating put on a copy of a barely formed Black Flag’s single  Nervous Breakdown.   “Holy shit.” They were angry, they were weird and they were unlike anything she’d heard before.  She packed her bags and sold her bike to buy a Greyhound ticket across the country.  Seventh Veil was the first place that would take in a skinny 18 year old with no home, no references and no clue.  After being at an all girls school for so long, she took to the locker room camaraderie immediately.  She went from timid and awkward to bold and brash, someone unafraid who knew how to make space and make noise.  Spinning around the pole or swinging a microphone, whenever Ruby was on the stage, she gave her all to stake her claim in what she’d built for herself.  When she danced, Nikki could see all that liberation in the smile on her face. So it was a little disappointing to see that smile falter as she caught sight of him. She staggered a bit as they locked eyes and awkwardly moved to the other side of the stage, regaining composure away from his glance.  When she came back around, Nikki had grabbed a seat up front next to the blonde and his friend.  Ruby flipped her ponytail to hide her eye roll and crawled over to him.   “What do you want?”  She said just loud enough for him to hear, sliding down onto her elbows and pushing her ass in the air for the rest of the audience. “I wanna talk to you.” “No way.  Go home, Nikki.” “How about a private dance then?” “Fuck you!”  She pulled herself up onto her knees and tugged the straps of her leather harness down.  Nikki placed a hundred dollar bill on stage. “Come talk to me.” Nikki didn’t seem to understand what he was asking.  She stood up and threw one long leg over his shoulder and dragged his seat in closer.  She slid down into his lap so that she straddled him, one thigh pressed up against his arm in a flexible fold.  Her nipples, covered up with pasties, pressed against his chest.  The guys next to them whooped and tossed stacks of dollar bills into Nikki’s lap as she wrapped her other leg around his waist. He was instantly hard. She tangled her fingers into his knotted black hair and purred into his ear. “Are you really trying make a scene, Sixx?”  She pulled back and looked up into his eyes.  His expression had a slight glaze, his mouth dropped open.  His hands rested nervously on her hips.  The answer, she could see from his hesitation, was no.  Nikki was known for his impulse - it’s what they bonded over.  They spent their nights buried in drugs and living out their highs with fireworks, bar fights and loud music, bringing them to early mornings of come downs, shivers and heightened emotions.  Cocaine addled conversations birthed ideas for Motley Crue and eventually led to Ruby forming her own band, The Plastix.  They talked books and broken homes, b movies and beat poets, deep dark fears and depraved, debased perversions.  But whenever they would come too close, whenever things got too heavy, Nikki would pull away.  He would tug up his sleeves and show his scars, recount memories to the point of tears, but if she ever moved to soothe him, he flinched.  Nikki was always unknowingly crying out for help, but his problem was he never knew what to do once he got it.  It was why she stopped giving him so many chances; she knew he would never take them. She felt bad for him. “Fine.  Let’s talk.”  She pressed her forehead to his and pulled away.  She finished her number with a final upside down spin down the pole and motioned for Jade - a vampy brunette - to take her spot on stage. Ruby stepped behind the zebra print curtain backstage and emerged a few minutes later in a black sweatshirt and leg warmers with a drink in each hand.  She led Nikki to the VIP lounge - a purple velvet couch and a clear lucite table tucked in a corner behind a velvet rope.  Under the black light, she sipped on her vodka cranberry and pushed a refreshed Jack and Coke into his hand. “Got ya a bunch of cherries.”  She commented, snatching one out of his drink and sucking the whiskey off it. “Thanks.  I never wanna ask for them.” He pulled his black fringe over his eyes before doing the same. “You’ll empty half a bottle of hairspray onto yourself but you won’t ask for cherries?” “I don’t care if people wanna call me a chick.  I just don’t want them thinking I’m a kid.” Ruby pulled his hundred dollar bill from her bra and slid it across the table.   “Where’d you get the money?” Nikki made a face and quickly shoved it into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Tommy let me pawn his stereo.”  He mumbled. “Nikki!” “I know.” “C’mon, you can’t do that! You don’t gotta….throw money at me anyway.  I would’ve just talked to you afterwards.”   “Without trying to punch me in the head?” “Okay. I get your approach.”  She shrugged and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “But all I’ve wanted lately is to just talk to you.  I really wish you would’ve just tried that.  I don’t want your money.” He crunched up the bill in his fist. “I thought maybe I could just buy back what I stole from you.” He sighed.  She wanted to yell at him more; tell him that she didn’t care about the drugs.  She cared that he lied to her and used her.  She’d seen him do it to enough people to feel stupid that she let it happen to her.  She wanted to tell him how he made her rush to work even more hectic than L.A. traffic normally made it.  She wanted to tell him about dancing with aching joints and having to wear a smile when you can’t feel the muscles in your face.  She wanted to tell him that just because he wanted her attention, that didn’t mean he could fuck her over. But she didn’t. He already knew all of that. He was trying. “Why have you been so shitty to me lately?” He went quiet.  There was hardly a time she caught him off guard that he couldn’t immediately divert his attention to scribbling in his notebook.  He opened his mouth to say something and then stopped himself before chugging his drink. He was the one who wanted to talk, after all.   “It’s weird for me that you’re dating Vince.” Ruby lifted an eyebrow at him before letting out a confused laugh.“What?” She snickered.  “I’m not dating Vince.” “What are you talking about? Yes you are.” He knitted his brows together.  She stopped laughing when she saw that he wasn’t.   “I’m  fucking   Vince.  First of all,”  She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice, taking on a more serious tone. “I don’t wanna date  anyone.    I deal with enough men here.  I don’t-” She held up a hand and cut herself off before getting carried away.  “Second of all, what does it matter?  You fuck my friends all the time!” “Yeah! But-” “You were just fucking Jade in your freaky sex closet two weeks ago!  She said it smelled like gouda cheese.  I thought that was part of why we were friends, we hook each other up!” “I know.  I  know  .”  He fell back in his seat.  “It’s just uncomfortable to me.  I mean, it’s  Vince  .  He’s so skeezy.” “You think I don’t know that?  Look I told you, I’m not trying to marry the guy.  We’re just having fun together.  Nikki, why are you so concerned?” “I dunno, you’re not stupid, Ruby, why do you think?” For a moment, they just looked at each other and waited for the other to say something.  When she didn’t, he sipped his drink and looked away.  It wasn’t the first time since she’d known him that he looked so sad she wanted to kiss him.  If only let him know that his feelings weren’t completely displaced.  Instead, she leaned back with him and watched the spinning disco ball above them sparkle.  Another thought in a long line of the same, she thought about a future with him and what that might be like. “You know you and me aren’t ready for this, right?” “Yeah.”  He popped another wet cherry in his mouth.  Something in his expression lifted when he looked back at her.  He leaned into her shoulder, his teased up hair brushing into her face.  “What do you mean?” “You  know   what I mean.” “I do.” He smiled at her.  He pulled a knotted cherry stem out of his mouth and placed it in her hand. “I just wanna hear you say it.” “Please don’t make me.” She groaned to keep herself from laughing, not wanting to encourage him.   She stuck his cherry stem in her mouth and swallowed it.  He grinned at her. “I’m gonna make you.” She sighed and her smile dropped.  She pushed the melting ice in her drink around with her straw.  “Things are changing so quickly.” She let out a sarcastic laugh before nudging him off of her.  “You don’t want a girlfriend anymore than I want a boyfriend, Nikki.  Think about it.  You wanna be a rockstar.  You’re gonna go on tour and meet girls and make money.  You’re not gonna have time to be with someone and you’re not gonna wanna be.” “That’s bullshit, though.  You’re gonna do all the same stuff.” “Yeah, maybe. I want to.  And I wanna do it without having to worry about when I’m gonna see you next or who you’re hanging out with or if you care who I’m hanging out with….I just don’t want it.  I don’t want to do that to you.” “Well then, I don’t get why you’re doing it with someone else.” “I’m not.  I don’t care about him the way I care about you. If we ever got close like that, I’d need it to be serious with you. And I’m not ready for that.  You’re not ready for that.” He wanted to argue.  Not because he had anything much left to say, but because he was still frustrated.  He yanked his last cherry off its stem and sucked on it before swallowing it down.  He wasn’t sure if he regretted coming here or if what she said made him feel any better. She wasn’t wrong and in a way, she told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That night, Nikki went back to the Whiskey-a-Go Go to play a show with his band.  They went on 45 minutes later than they were supposed to, something Mick was sure to thoroughly blame him for.   “Where the fuck have you been?” “Don’t worry about it, old man.” “Oh, I’m real fucking worried.” The crowd didn’t care.  They came out for Motley Crue and stayed out with them long into the night, far past their last song.  Particularly, a buxom redhead who reminded Nikki of his first girlfriend had stuck around the club long enough to come back with them for their nightly afterparty.  She stayed tangled up in him all night.  And when he went to bed with her, pounding her into the mattress, he heard Ruby moaning louder than she ever had in the room across the hall.  Working his conquest harder than he normally cared to, he waited until he was sure he heard Ruby cum before unloading himself down the new girls back.  He left her sticky and sweaty in the sheets to smoke a cigarette in the cool night air. Ruby was already out there. He thought she might be. His pressed his bare back to the brick wall next to her and pulled his pack out of his low slung leather pants.  She was wearing one of Vince’s vintage car t shirts and a pair of black denim shorts she arrived in, her feet shoved into Tommy’s oversized sneakers.   “You staying over tonight?” He asked her.  She shook her head and handed him a lighter.   “Nah.  I’m almost on my way out.  Just gotta find my shoes.” She watched him light up and made sure to grab it back before he could stick it in his own pocket.  He pushed his hair out of his face and quietly exhaled, both of them choosing to listen to the Alice Cooper playing from a car down the street rather than speak.  She watched the smoke dissipate in the air, the sounds of laughter carrying over from the strip just a block away. They both smelled of boozey sweet summer air.  It was peaceful.  For the second time tonight, Nikki felt like being honest. “You know, I can hear you and Vince.  In my room. Mostly you.” He told her.  Before she could say anything, he stumbled over an explanation.  “It’s not a big deal.  I just thought you’d wanna know, it makes it kind of difficult for me to uh...not think of you.  In that way.”  He stammered and immediately felt stupid. “Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow at him.  She put out her cigarette on the concrete and exhaled her last hit.  “Same.”  She gave him a sly grin and slipped back inside.  “Goodnight, Nikki.” Nikki went to bed happy that night. She was thinking of him too. ***fan fiction writers are creators too! we work really hard and put a lot of time into our stories. if you enjoy someone’s content, please consider leaving them a comment. it’s really helpful! thank you.  Taglist:  @triplehaitches