#I only have one account where I had to somewhat change it since it was taken

[candy-ac3]

Should have the first chapter of this Adam and the batfam crossover shit done either today or tommorow yippie!

[sexybritishllama]

in further neopets discord news, oh boy is there drama in my awful virtual pet game website today. strap in if you want way too much information on neopets’ broken economy

for some context, an event has just launched called the faerie festival. this is the first event to be run by the ‘new’ TNT (aka. the neopets team aka. the staff) since the leadership change, and they've said in recent editorials that this year’s faerie festival is going to be a combo of two previous popular events:

the faerie quest event, wherein people can get a free quest from a faerie every day in exchange for a reward (something that’s normally limited to random special events and therefore quite rare)

the charity corner, a highly requested event that hasn’t run since 2020, where you can donate random items to get points that can then be exchanged in a prize shop

there’s a LOT of ultimately worthless items on neopets that people gather from doing dailies and things, but charity corner actually gave a use to hoarding all of these, so people have wanted it back for ages. people have been going out of their way to hoard extra junk items for like 2 months now, after TNT teased the event in an editorial

this event was originally meant to start on 20th august, but got delayed 2 weeks, presumably because of issues behind the scenes. people were generally a bit disappointed but relieved if this meant they were going to get a proper, well prepared event without bugs

flash forward to 2nd october, the actual start of the event. nothing actually opens up for several hours on the day- that’s somewhat waved off by the fact that staff presumably need to be in the office to launch everything, a midnight launch isn’t expected

but, eventually, it opens!

well… kinda. there’s one page with one dialogue scene available and a link to an event page for spending neocash (the premium currency that costs irl money). the faerie quest page is giving out free daily quests, which is nice, but literally just the same as they did back in 2020. where’s the item recycling part? did this really need 2 weeks of delay?

the next day, the FAQ page for the event is published neopets support site (but not announced via news). still no sign of the actual event starting- seems like that might not be until moday?

as well as multiple grammatical errors, the FAQ had a few… concerning elements. most notably:

only 10 items could be donated per day

points would be awarded based on the rarity of the item, with the maximum rarity being r200-500, worth 15 points each

this meant people's hoarding of junk items for months was... essentially useless

r200-500 items basically means either hidden tower items (rare, expensive items that can only be bought in an account age locked shop with a purchase limit of 1 per day) orrrr….. neocash items. In other words, players could either spend an exorbinate amount of their in-game currency to buy up items to donate, or they could just hand over their credit card and pay to win

people were Not Happy about this

not long after info spread and the outcry started (and a sizeable number of people cancelled their premium membership in protest), the FAQ was quietly updated to remove mention of donating neocash items. that took away to pay to win element at least

however, now there was a new problem. a tombola man problem.

i mentioned already that the highest rarity items are pretty rare and expensive. one of the least expensive of these is an item called the Squeezy Tombola Guy Toy. you can probably see where this is going already

because you can only buy a maximum of one tombola guy per day from the hidden tower, your only option if you want to buy more than that in a day is to go to user shops. however, in light of the event, people had already started buying and hoarding tombola guy toys. equally, others were buying them purely to sell at a profit. this made the perfect storm and caused the price of the tombola guy toy, which was normally 110k NP, to explode up to 500k, 600k, even 700k within just one day

BUT THEN THE FAQ GOT UPDATED AGAIN. surprise, you can now donate 30 items per day! also they just got rid of the highest rarity tier altogether. the maximum you can get for an item is now 8 points, for rarity r102-r179.

this has now made the squeezy tombola guy toys useless. unless you’re a collector they don’t serve any function beyond that of a normal neopets toy (of which there’s thousands of much cheaper options). the price has now plummeted down to BELOW what it originally was and many users now have piles and piles of the dolls sitting in their inventory, mocking them

so what now? well, because no one ever learns, everyone is now flocking to what is now the cheapest high-rarity item eligible for donation. most are going for omelettes, which have a few different options at r102+. these have also inflated by like 400% from before the event, but unlike the squeeze tombola guys, these are only worth a few thousand neopoints, so not as bad a potential loss in comparison

it’s worth noting that while all this is going on in preparation for the recycling event, neopets is also experiencing insane inflation in a lot of other items right now, including those required for people to complete faerie quests. for example, a Griefer, which cost 5000 np just last week, is now worth selling for 1 MILLION

So yeah. 3 days into the event and that’s where we are so far. who knows what tomorrow might bring

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Act 4 Prologue (Matias Asbrink)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

At the same time, in Acroite.

Large snowflakes fluttered down like flower petals, painting the traditional stone-built streets white.

The main street, illuminated by street lamps, was bustling with crowds of people. However, there were no troublemakers here, no drunken shouts or fights like in other countries.

In this country, governed by the strictest laws on the continent, those who disturb the peace are quickly apprehended and held accountable for their crimes.

Yet amidst the orderly and well-maintained streets, there was a corner where women gathered unnaturally.

Woman 1: “Please join me at the lovely party I’m having tonight.”

Woman 2: “That’s not fair. Please also come to my party.”

Woman 3: “Where are you off to at this hour? If you’re interested, would you like to join me for dinner?”

Matias: “I have work to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Slipping smoothly out of the midst of the women, with his golden hair gathering the twilight’s glow and snow-shadowed eyes tinged with melancholy, was Matias, the guardian of Acroite’s law.

Though his appearance and demeanor were stern, there was an alluring aura about him that made the women gaze at him dreamily.

Matias: “Haah.”

With a sigh, he casually brushed back his smooth blond hair, eliciting another round of cheers from the women behind him.

A colleague, a judge, then playfully tapped his back as he swiftly walked away to escape their intense stares.

Lars: “Quite the charmer, as always, huh? Matias.”

Pushing up his round glasses, the man smiled teasingly at Matias, and his expression changed to a more relaxed one.

Matias: “Lars, if you saw that, you could’ve helped me.”

Matias: “You know I struggle with women.”

Lars: "I know, but having too many admirers is honestly a problem I envy. I wish I could trade places with you."

Matias: "You wish you could trade places with me? Did you see those women? They had the eyes of warriors determined to annihilate their enemies."

Lars: "I think they were all beauties, though."

Matias: "Whether they're beautiful or not doesn't matter. The only woman I need is my soulmate."

Matias: "She doesn't need to dote on me or stare at me like those women. All she needs to do is wish me luck, fix my tie, give me a kiss, and wave goodbye before I head to work."

Lars: "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I've heard about your embarrassing fantasies more than a hundred times, Matias."

Lars: "Are you alright, though?"

Matias: "I've been saying it since earlier, but I'm not okay. You have to back me up next time."

Lars: "I meant about the trial. The defendant this time is your friend, right?"

Matias: "Ah, yeah. We were roommates for a while back in the Royal Academy. We enlisted together and served in the same unit."

Lars: "You were close then."

Matias: "He was a good guy. Cheerful, smart, and quick-witted. He was good with women too, effortlessly handling situations like earlier."

Lars: "I see. Matias, about that..."

Matias' snow-shadow-colored eyes gaze straight at his colleague, looking somewhat uneasy.

Matias: "It's fine."

Matias: "I'm a man of the Asbrink family."

The Royal Court, which determines the nation’s justice, was filled with a solemn atmosphere tonight.

The defendant and his defense attorney, the government officials prosecuting his crimes, and numerous citizens in the gallery all watched with bated breath as the five judges, especially the guardian of the law, sat atop the judicial platform.

Matias: “I’ll now deliver the verdict on the suspicion of unauthorized leakage of classified Acroite military information.”

Matias: “Defendant, step forward.”

The defendant stepped onto the witness stand.

Though looking severely worn out, his eyes, fixed on the guardian of the law, held a faint glimmer of hope.

It was well known among some circles that the defendant had a friendship with the guardian.

As everyone sought to interpret the meaning behind the intersecting gazes, the sound of the gavel resounded.

Matias: “Death penalty.”

After delivering the merciless verdict, the courtroom fell into a brief silence before erupting into chaos.

Defendant: “Matias, are you really going to kill me!? Me, who ate, slept, and fought alongside you? We're friends, aren't we!?”

Defendant: “You can’t do this!”

While the defendant cried out in despair, Matias appeared entirely unaffected.

Matias: “That does not excuse your crime.”

Defendant: “Isn’t a death sentence too heavy for a single mistake?”

Matias: "The law is justice. If you are a citizen of Acroite, obedience is absolute."

Matias: "All you can do is comply with the verdict that has been passed down."

With a detached voice, Matias continued to gaze directly at the collapsing defendant, seemingly in despair.

Matias: "The execution will be carried out in five days, at noon."

Defendant: "M-Matias..."

As the defendant was taken away, Matias watched them with his snow-shadow-colored eyes.

To dispel the murmurs, he struck the gavel twice.

Matias: "This concludes the session."

As the people left the courtroom in silence, he stood alone.

It was unusual for him to stay in the courtroom after it had adjourned, without a clear reason.

Walking to the spot where the defendant had collapsed during the trial, he gently touched the witness stand with his fingers.

Though his snow-shadowed eyes flickered slightly, he murmured with the same emotionless voice as during the trial.

Matias: "I did the right thing."

Matias: "I'm Matias, the next king of Acroite, a proud man of the esteemed Asbrink family."

Matias: "Until all evil is condemned, I cannot afford to stop."

☆ Ikepri Masterlist

[thebestusernamepossible]

You know I keep seeing interpretations of possible post-canon Loop integrating into the party. And like how they would interact with said party, but like I feel like there is one aspect of the dynamic people seem to miss out on- which is a shame because it’s one of the most interesting to me.

From the parties perspective Loop is a ‘star’ that Sif met when he was stuck in a Time-Loop. So that means the party is aware that Loop was also stuck in said time-loop. I want to see the party trying to figure out how to help and accommodate Loop’s Time-Loop trauma, because I know this would drive Loop insane. Like imagine alternate versions of the friends you’ve seen die over and over (who Loop definitely feels they’ve failed) and trying to accommodate you because they think you’re traumatised from a COMPLETELY SEPARATE time-loop. I’d simply go insane actually.

Not to mention Loop would probably grind the parties gears because they would act like they always know what’s best for Siffrin and the party in general. And like- yes they know Sif better than anyone, but from the parties perspective they’re someone who knew Sif for something equilvlant to like 7ish months at most. And they just stroll ina js act like they know what’s best for them, AND the party. And loop is condescending even when they don’t mean to be, so double whammy. But then again Loop and Sif (as far as the party know) we’re stuck in a time loop with only each other for that long. So Loop is now reluctantly the Siffrin expert, which would cause some jealousy from people who have been trying and only somewhat succeeding at getting Sif to open up. Because from their perspective Loop just gets all of Sifs secrets and gets to know everything about them, assumedly because Sif TOLD them everything. (Haha imagine Sif communicating). I think they’d be a bit jealous even if they felt bad about it.

Not to mention the miscommunication of it all- from the parties perspective they have a gap in their memories from a massive amount of time that only Siffrin and a (albeit helpful) stranger. The same stranger who both helped you save your friend, but seems to be in some kind of toxic situationship(?) with said friend, AND acts awkward as hell around you. There are so many conclusions to grab from that, and I don’t think that ‘completely separate Timeloop in an alternate dimension where stranger is also your friend’ is what they’ll come up with. Even smart gal Odile needs some actual information to draw a conclusion.

The most obvious conclusion would obviously be ‘Loop is a seprate person Siffrin grew close to due to the fact they were the only ones who remebered being in a timeloop’ and ‘Loop may have done something to/been wronged by the party in the Loops’.

Honestly you only need Loop referencing them not being a star in the past one time for the entire party to immediately conclude ‘holy shit, Loop also had some kind of wish gone wrong™️ that changed their entire body and made them be stuck to a tree woth only Sif for company for months’

Which isn’t WRONG per-say, but I just think we as a fandom should get more creative with Loop-Party assumptions when talking relationships.

Especially Loop-Isabeau, I want him assuming he said something really mean to them or something during a loop. The Situationship jealously I see a lot is fun too, but I think Isa trying very hard to be nice and make up for whatever he ‘did’ would make Loop have a fucking panick attack out of guilt. I just think Loop should be in the torcher nexus here.

Also! Loop-party strain! I think that the party would have mixed feelings in loop! Because they don’t know that’s Sif, so it’s just looks like to them that Loop so some stranger being unfair to Sif and what they went through (Loop screams). And since is inevitably going to be a bit mean to the party on account of being unwell, and teh fact they don’t really have the advantage of the party knowing and loving them previously. I think the initial relationships are strained, and honestly Loop is probably self sabotaging too. Testing boundaries to see how ‘unlovable’ they can be before they are thrown out. And while the party eventually grow to look past Loos hard edges and grow to love them, I think initially there is some fights and tension. Loop has the ammunition and almost wants to be proven right in their assumption they’re unlovable. But I think the party will realise that they are just like Sif was when they had THEIR metal break down and will see how Sif gets better and opens up (even if just being more expressive) with Loop around. So I think they’ll grow to like loop as their own person! But it takes time

Also Loop and Sif informing the party of each other individual triggers and keeping each other accountable (while also trying to work off being the most toxic co-dependant ass relationship ever)

[jacquesthepigeon]

I have personally seen cases where kids grow up as complete strangers to their heritage especially as is the case with my own cousin in California but that involved multiple factors

1) My aunt was isolated and practically estranged from boricua communities. There is a large latino population in California, yes, but it’s mostly Mexican, not a problem, but it’s drastically different from boricua culture. I cannot describe to you how sad it was to see her express relief at being around her people during holidays for the first time in over a decade.

2) Assimilation and shame was heavily encouraged. My aunt’s MIL, from Mexico, went as far as having her name legally changed to its English equivalent. Over the years since my aunt’s move to the states, there have been multiple incidents where she drastically exaggerated the state of the country and our living conditions (all way before the infrastructure, particularly electricity services, got noticeably Bad) based on sensationalist news articles. It got to the point where she called all of us “idiots” for staying.

Bringing it back to ML

According to a 2019 census, there were 71,500 parisians who reported being born in China, a figure that doesn’t account for descendants of chinese immigrants. That is a far cry from leaving Sabine isolated from her culture. She has ample resources to find and participate in a community of fellow chinese immigrants within the city.

In regards to assimilation and shame, just look at her fucking design and hobbies holy shit. It clearly doesn’t apply to her. As for her english (french?) name, it is a fairly common practice for people from various asian countries to adopt an english name. I’ve seen multiple explanations for this ranging from confucian self naming practices being influenced by exposure to western cultures all the way to workplace culture and convenience. In Sabine’s case, because her chinese name is so similar to her western name, I imagine it’s simply a matter of avoiding the headache of constantly correcting people on the spelling and pronunciation of her chinese name. It sucks that it’s something so many immigrants and even tourists have to do to be addressed respectfully but that’s also worth exploring within the narrative.

Which brings me to why it’s important that we recognize the crew’s intentions and POV when discussing how these characters and dynamics are written. They’re not considering any of these and countless other factors that affect how immigrants and their children interact with their own heritage. They want to be praised and lauded for being “inclusive” and “diverse” simply for commodifying a cultural aesthetic. They have no real concern for the people they’re profiting from or their lives and complexities.

So let’s assume for a moment that despite not being affected by any of the factors that I mentioned influenced my own aunt’s lack of educating my cousin about her culture, that’s still an issue that should be addressed specifically in regards to Sabine’s decisions in raising Marinette rather than pushing the blame onto Marinette for “not expressing interest” and learning on her own. The last few times my cousin has come to visit, we do our best to accommodate her and make her as comfortable as possible but when she inevitably lets it show that she is uncomfortable and would prefer to step away from the situation, my aunt has the nerve to shame her for not liking or participating in her culture. I assure you, my aunt was the only one blaming my cousin as we were all silently judging my aunt as she’s obviously the one responsible for it getting to this point, as we have been doing ever since we knew she wasn’t teaching my cousin spanish. So assuming this is the case with Sabine and Marinette, where Sabine had the means to teach Marinette at the very least the basics, and now Sabine is somewhat resentful of Marinette not figuring it out on her own, that is something that definitely needs to be addressed with close attention and care.

But they won’t.

Sabine is not a chinese immigrant in the interest of other chinese immigrants

Marinette is not a white-passing diaspora child in the interest of other white-passing diaspora children

There is no diversity or representation in this show that isn’t meant to turn them into props to make white men look better, be they fictional or real

That is the issue, not the existence of borderline caricature-esque immigrants or white-passing POC in the real world possibly getting representation. It’s not about them, never has been.

[juniperss]

Soft!Darry Curtis Headcanons

A/N: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Getting Darry to open up and soften up takes a lot of time and patience. He's a busy guy juggling work, his brothers, and the group so a relationship is another thing he has to find energy for. So patience is key when it comes to the relationship.

Darry had a crush on you for a while but pushed his feelings aside because he didn't think he had the time. However, once Soda and Ponyboy found out about his crush?? Oh boy they all but harassed and threatened Darry to talk to you. He had planned on asking you out when you swung by to hang out with the group at the drive in which automatically made you suspicious because....Darry doesn't do movies. Cut to the two of you being volunteered by Soda to go get the popcorn and drinks only to have clueless Dally cut in.

Well he didn't end up asking you out until you all got back home and you were pulling the chocolate cake out of the fridge. Mr. Superman was blushy and nervous but managed to ask you out before the boys ruined the moment .

Darry tries to schedule dates but with all his responsibilities you two kinda end up just hanging out. Which actually is nicer than any fancy dates he could've planned. Watching movies on the couch with his head in your lap and playing with his fingers. Baking chocolate cake late at night for the boys to have in the morning. Sitting on the porch tucked under his arm, back pressed against his chest while you two talk about life.

SPEAKING OF HIS ARMS AND CHEST. Darry Curtis is pure cuddle material and he loves cuddling. Strictly in his room or on the couch once the boys are asleep or if they're out. He loves feeling you against him, loves when you fall asleep on top of his chest while he's reading or watching TV. Probably one of the fastest ways to get him to relax is to fall asleep against him.

This happened once and the gang came home to find both you and Darry asleep on the couch. Steve teased him about it and it was one of the few times that Darry didn't wack him upside the head. He just leaned back in his chair and looked at you sipping your coffee next to him.

Darry isn't really a man of many words and really just likes to listen to you talk. You could talk about dirt and he'd hang onto every word you said. When you two start dating and he gets to know about your interests he'll actively try to learn more about them. 

 Darry isn't really into big romantic gestures, he's a lot more subtle and it's sweet. He remembers almost anything you say and uses that to his advantage. Once you mentioned that you liked food from this one diner a couple hours away and for your birthday he drove out there and brought it back to the house. He leaves you notes where he knows you'll see them, always makes sure to have your favorite kind of coffee at the house. Things like that.

Watching you do anything domestic instantly melts his heart. And if you do things to help him out without him asking? He melts into a pile of goo. He's so busy and always has a thousand things to do so you going out of your way to help him is really special. Helping Ponyboy with his homework? You're an angel. You did the dishes and the kitchen is clean when he gets home? You're too good for him. 

 Darry struggles a lot with balancing working and taking care of himself. He needs someone to remind him to slow down. You remind him to take moments for himself. Moments to hang out with his brothers outside of scolding them or group activities. And once you begin helping out with work + home stuff it makes it easier for him to do that. He's so thankful. Thanks to you he has part of his youth back.

Ponyboy says in the book that he front door is always unlocked in case one of the gang needs a place to crash and I feel like Darry prefers to be home in case they ever need him. Especially after what happens with Johnny. So most nights you end up staying with him if you can. You have your own drawer and Darry makes sure to save you room in the bathroom for your things. 

 He starts sleeping better when you're next to him not that you could really tell because Darry is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He mentioned that his dreams are better now or that he doesn't even remember dreaming now. 

 Darry tends to sleep on his back and not move but somehow his hand always finds your body in the night. Whether he ends up with his hand on yours or back, arm wrapped around your waist.He wakes up early most mornings out of habit of making sure that Ponyboy is up for school. Even during the summer it happens and it used to annoy him but now he's thankful for the quiet moments with you.He's especially cuddly in fhe mornings and affectionate.

Darry isn't one for PDA but mornings? Will kiss you for as long as you allow, is happy to let you doze in his arms or against his chest, please play with his fingers. 

 HIS HANDS! He's got the strongest and roughest hands in the world. And you love to hold them. And he loves when you hold them. Does the cheesy thing where he holds your hand against his to see the size difference.

Strong boy gives the best hugs (only second to Soda and no I don't take criticism) and honestly a hug from Darry is the cure to a bad day. One time when you you had a nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep he sat up against the headboard, pulled you up with him and just hugged you. His chest is a wall of warmth and his arms are so secure that nothing could pry you away. And in the quiet moments is when he usually finds things to say. He just spoke about work, about the house was working on, and soon you fell back asleep

Darry dreams of having a bigger house some day. Nothing huge, maybe just two more rooms than the home the Curtis boys have now. He wants to send Ponyboy to college, help Soda get his own place, and maybe adopt a dog or two (though he's not opposed to a cat, but he wants a really fat one). And you. He wants you. That's it. He'd be happy with that.

[thebettybook]

(Chapter 2) A Spin on an Enchanted Tale

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, fem!reader, Gabriella O’Hara, Lyla (Lyla’s a human in this AU)

Chapter 2 summary: My Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader AU inspired by Disney’s Enchanted (2007). After taking Miguel O’Hara (a 31-year-old single dad who doesn’t believe in fairytales) up on his offer to stay in his home, reader (a princess cosplayer in their late 20s) wakes up to a somewhat-new life with Miguel and his adorable five-year-old daughter Gabriella

Warning: None, an all-fluff story, enjoy~

Spanish used (I used SpanishDict): Papá (Dad); Buenos días, Papá (Good morning, Dad); Gracias, Papá (Thank you, Dad); Porque eres, mi solecita (Because you are, my lovely sunshine); Mierda (shit)

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 {below} | Ch 2.5 | Ch 3 {in progress}

The buttery rays of morning autumn sunlight slipped through the curtains and danced onto your form, gently waking you up. You cracked an eye open and turned over to grab your phone from the nightstand.

It’s…only six a.m?!

You put down your phone and let out a groan, fighting the urge to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head.

It was one of those rare days where your body would wake up too early on its own, and it was probably because you subconsciously remembered that you were staying in someone else’s home.

You made your way to the window, parting the curtains and lifting up the window.

The chilly Monday air greeted your skin, but you didn’t mind it. The faint beeps from taxis and chatter from people throughout Nueva York below filled your ears. Even though you should be used to the entire city being awake 24/7 by now, the hustle and bustle of Nueva York never ceased to amaze you.

What do I do now?

You couldn’t just go downstairs and make yourself breakfast; it felt wrong to use Miguel’s kitchen as a guest. You weren’t even sure if Miguel wanted you to eat breakfast with him and Gabriella.

He seemed pretty skeptical of you last night, which was understandable, so it was probably best to try to stay out of his hair as much as possible. Especially since you were now staying in his home for free.

Breakfast can wait; I can buy something in that cafe across the street later. You had $200 in your bank account—not enough to rent an apartment, but enough to buy yourself meals for the next week or two.

And with that, you nodded to yourself and went to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

In the bathroom, you couldn’t help but jump a bit when you saw your reflection in the mirror. You almost forgot you were wearing Miguel’s comfy t-shirt and sweatpants. I need to change out of these.

After brushing your teeth and taking a shower (and re-wearing Miguel’s shirt and sweatpants since you had no clean clothes to change into), you made your way to the folded pile of clothes Miguel gave you last night that you put on the study desk by the window.

T-shirts, dress shirts, sweatpants…None of these, as nice as the materials of Miguel’s clothes were, were suitable for you to wear as day outfits.

Your fingers then paused on a sky blue cotton dress shirt. You took it out of the pile and held it up to your body, the end of the shirt reaching way past your knees.

A lightbulb went off in your head. I can make a dress out of this!

You set the dress shirt down on the desk and went over to your suitcase, taking out your bag of sewing supplies and beloved sewing machine.

“Chip,” you practically sobbed, hugging your ivory sewing machine with the sewing supply bag on top as you lugged both to the desk. “At least I have you with me.”

“Chip,” which you affectionately called your sewing machine, came from the sewing machine’s brand “Chip Sewing Brand Inc,” though you liked to think “Chip” stood for:

Costume Making

Hemming

and Everything In Between

for Princess Cosplayers

After setting Chip down on the desk, you sat down on a sleek black swivel chair in front of the desk. You smoothed the cotton fabric of the shirt across the desk before taking out pink fabric scissors from your bag.

An upbeat, incoherent tune escaped from your lips in a hum as you spent the next few hours cutting, pinning, seam ripping, folding, sewing, and hemming.

With how big Miguel’s dress shirt was on you, you were able to cut some extra scraps from the shirt. There was one part of the shirt that you especially wanted to save for later: the left breast pocket that had a crimson spider logo embroidered on it. The pocket gave you the idea to incorporate it as one of two lower side pockets on your dress.

As you turned to the left to set aside the shirt scraps, the corner of your eye caught a movement by the window. A pigeon fluttered its gray and periwinkle wings, landing on your windowsill.

“Hello, there,” you smiled at the pigeon, who cooed at you in response. “You’re welcome to stay and watch me sew if you’d like.”

You could call yourself crazy for talking to a pigeon who couldn’t understand you, but your smile only grew when the pigeon stayed on the windowsill and looked at you as if to wait for you to continue sewing.

Your hums, the pigeon’s coos, and soft whirs from your sewing machine soon filled up the room. You spent about the next half hour sewing on shoulder straps and using the other scraps from the shirt to make and sew two pockets on either side of the dress just below your stomach area.

“And…done!” You turned off your sewing machine and took the dress off the table. Before you could get up to go change out of Miguel’s pajamas and into your new dress, you noticed a flock of fluttering movements on the windowsill.

There were not one, but five pigeons on the windowsill now, all cooing in unison.

“I see you’ve brought your friends,” You cocked your head to the side at the first pigeon, or at least you thought it was the first pigeon that came to your windowsill. You weren’t really sure; they all looked the same. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go try on my new dress.”

You rushed into the bathroom and slipped out of Miguel’s pajamas, folding them neatly and setting them aside on the marbled vanity before slipping into the dress.

A smile bursted on your face once you saw your reflection. The dress-shirt-turned-dress boasted a sweetheart neckline and shoulder straps that you tied into bows on your shoulders. The pockets (with one pocket having the former shirt’s crimson spider logo embroidery) also added a cute touch to the dress.

For a dress that was made in two-ish hours, it hugged all the right places while still being comfortable and easy for you to move in.

“All in a morning’s work,” you grinned at yourself in the mirror, turning around to see the dress at different angles.

Oh! Speaking of mornings… You adjusted a bow strap on your shoulder before darting out of the bathroom to pick up your phone on the desk.

…I need to text Nancy.

Nancy, the owner of the princess party cosplay business you worked for, was the type of boss who was kind and understanding but also no-nonsense when it came to business.

After you typed and sent a message to Nancy about losing your apartment and asking for extra princess party cosplay job opportunities, you placed your phone into one of your pockets.

You then turned around, noticing the five pigeons that continued to rest on the windowsill.

“You’re all still here? I suppose you all liked that song I hummed earlier, huh?”

The pigeons answered you with a collective coo that sounded like a “yes” from them, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“All right, I’ll sing it again.”

You began to sing the song from earlier, trying your best to keep your voice soft in an effort to not wake Gabriella and Miguel in case the walls were thin.

The song you sang was a princess song with lyrics about being happy while doing whatever task you were doing, and it was always your go-to song every time you worked on a new sewing project.

The pigeons joined in on your singing with their cooing, and you began twirling around in your new dress while the pigeons bobbed their heads.

You became so immersed in singing with the pigeons that you didn’t hear the doorknob of your room turn. The door opened just enough for a certain five-year-old to peek her head into the room.

“Good morning, Princess Y/N!” Gabriella flung the door wide open, running over to you and encasing your legs in a big hug.

You halted your singing and bent down to greet Gabriella. “Good morning, little one!” you returned her hug, noting how adorable she looked in her light blue unicorn-print nightgown and pink bunny slippers. “Did you just wake up?”

“Mhm, I wanted to see if you were actually here! And I’m glad that you are!”

It was impossible for you to not smile more at Gabi’s words. Despite all the uncertainties and events since yesterday, you found yourself truthfully replying, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

You straightened up with Gabriella, and she tugged on one of your hands. “Princess Y/N, can you help me brush my teeth? Papá isn’t awake.”

You took out your phone from your pocket and checked the screen, which read 8:10 a.m. You didn’t know when Miguel usually woke up, but from what Gabi just told you, it sounded like he usually woke up earlier.

“Are you going to school today, little one?” You let Gabi lead you out of your room and into the hall to the main bathroom.

“Yeah!” Gabi hopped onto a little stool in front of the sink area, and you flipped the light switch of the bathroom on. “I’m gonna tell my friends that I’m friends with a really pretty princess!”

“Aw, I’m flattered,” you gushed, putting a hand to your heart. “Now, can you show me where your toothbrush and toothpaste are?”

Gabi nodded, pointing to a gold toothbrush holder by the sink. You noticed two toothbrushes: one sparkly rainbow toothbrush for kids, and a larger blue-and-red toothbrush with a Spider-Man logo.

“That’s mine,” Gabi pointed to the sparkly rainbow toothbrush. “And the Spider-Man toothbrush is Papá’s.”

You couldn’t help but quirk an amused grin at learning that Miguel had a Spider-Man toothbrush, of all things. He pegged you as the type to have those boring gray toothbrushes.

“Ok, I’m going to show you how to put toothpaste on your toothbrush,” you took Gabi’s toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste from the toothbrush holder. You opened the cap of the toothpaste tube and then held Gabi’s toothbrush and the toothpaste tube in front of you. “Watch carefully.”

Gabi nodded vigorously. You squeezed a centimeter of toothpaste onto Gabi’s toothbrush, leaving some empty space on the toothbrush for Gabi.

“Ooh, I wanna do it now!” Gabi held her hands out to you as if you showed her how to make a unicorn out of clouds or something.

You handed her the toothbrush and the toothpaste tube, and made your way behind her to support her small arms with your hands. “You don’t want to squeeze the toothpaste out too hard, or a ton will come out and we don’t want that.”

Gabi nodded, adorably poking her tongue out as she concentrated on squeezing the toothpaste onto her toothbrush. The toothpaste made a little toot! sound as it came out from the tube, making the both of you giggle. “Look, I did it!” Gabi held up the toothbrush to you.

“Great job, little one,” you returned her smile. “Now I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

You made your way to stand next to Gabi, and you looked into the oval mirror in front of the two of you. “You want to brush your teeth like this,” you mimicked small circle motions with your hand in front of your mouth.

Gabi copied you, brushing her teeth. “That’s it,” you nodded, and Gabi beamed up at you with a mouth now full of minty toothpaste.

After helping Gabi to finish brushing her teeth, you tidied up the sink and Gabi hopped off of the stool. Just as the two of you were about to exit the bathroom, footsteps approached the door and the door opened to reveal Miguel.

The Miguel before you was a Miguel who looked completely different from the put-together man you met last night.

This Miguel wore a plush navy robe over a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. His chestnut waves clung to his forehead and stuck out in all directions, and his feet were adorned with giant pink bunny slippers that matched Gabriella’s.

“¡Buenos días, Papá!” Gabi ran over to Miguel, hugging his legs. “Princess Y/N helped me brush my teeth!”

Miguel blinked as if he was just waking up, before addressing you with barely a glance. “Thanks, but I got it from here.”

“Of course,” you awkwardly shuffled out of the bathroom, feeling like you overstepped a boundary by helping Gabi brush her teeth. Miguel didn’t even cast another glance your way as you made your way to your room.

He’s probably just being protective of Gabi. You nodded to yourself as you went into your room and perched at the edge of your bed. We’re all still strangers to each other, after all.

You gave a half-smile to the five pigeons who still lounged on your windowsill before taking your phone out from your pocket to scroll through job sites for any extra jobs you could apply to.

You kind of lost track of time as you searched and bookmarked job opportunities, because about fifteen minutes later, Gabi stumbled into your room once more.

The child was now dressed in a white uniform polo t-shirt, a knee-length khaki skirt, and rainbow unicorn socks. Miguel followed behind her, still in his robe and with his messy hair. In his hands were a hairbrush and a sparkly hot pink hair tie.

Instead of going to you, Gabi ran over to your windowsill. You were surprised that the pigeons weren’t alarmed and simply stayed on the windowsill as Gabi marveled at them.

“Gabi insisted that she wanted me to do her hair here,” Miguel explained. His hickory orbs landed on you for the first time this morning, but instead of his eyes landing on your face, they landed on your outfit. “Wait, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, I woke up early and didn’t have any clean clothes so I decided to make a dress out of one of the shirts you gave me. I hope that’s ok.” You shyly stuck your hands in your dress pockets, feeling self-conscious.

“Uh…yeah. That’s ok. Remind me to teach you how to use our laundry room later,” Miguel averted his eyes from yours rather quickly. His eyes then landed on the five pigeons still resting on the windowsill. “Pigeons?”

Miguel strode over to the windowsill, waving his hand to shoo away the pigeons (who flew off into Nueva York with annoyed coos) before shutting your window.

“Aw, Papá,” Gabriella whined, turning around to look up at Miguel. “The pigeons wanted to stay! You should’ve seen them sing with Princess Y/N.”

“Sing?” Miguel’s thick eyebrows lifted, before furrowing in doubt as he turned to look at you.

You simply stared back, confused on why he seemed confused. Surely singing pigeons weren't the most odd things Miguel had encountered in Nueva York.

Instead of saying something about how singing pigeons didn’t exist, Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to a disappointed Gabi. “Uh, well, maybe they’ll come back later.”

A smile formed on your lips at Miguel’s attempt to make his daughter feel better. Miguel then surprised you once more by repositioning himself to sit criss-cross on the floor.

“Princess Y/N, sit with us!” Gabi hopped into Miguel’s lap and patted the empty floor space next to Miguel.

“Alright,” you chuckled, though you hesitantly made your way off the bed and to Miguel and Gabi. You crouched down, sitting and leaving a pretty good chunk of space between you and Miguel. However, Gabi took your hand and pulled you closer to her and Miguel.

He didn’t say a word, his hands full with the hairbrush and Gabi’s hair. The sparkly pink hair tie rested loosely between his lips. As if it came second nature to him, Miguel gently and expertly brushed Gabi’s thick brunette hair and gathered it into a neat ponytail.

“There you go,” Miguel planted a kiss on top of Gabi’s head after securing her ponytail with the hair tie.

“¡Gracias, Papá!” Gabi tilted her head up to kiss Miguel’s jaw, and you wanted to melt then and there at how cute the father and daughter duo were. Gabi hopped off of Miguel’s lap and made her way over to you. “Princess Y/N, how do I look?”

“Like the prettiest princess in all the lands, little one,” you gave Gabi a wink as you stood up, not caring if your princess compliment would elicit an annoyed huff from Miguel or something.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to see Miguel stand up with a soft smile on his face as Gabi beamed even more at receiving your compliment.

“Did you hear that, Papá? Princess Y/N called me the ‘prettiest princess in all the lands’!” Gabi threw her hands back in the air as if you just made her day.

“Porque eres, mi solecita,” Miguel stated as if it was an undeniable truth. “Wait here with Princess Y/N, I’ll go get ready and then I’ll make us all breakfast.”

You let out a surprised “pfft” at Miguel calling you “Princess Y/N” as he made his way out of your room and into the bathroom in the hall. Before you could turn to Gabi, a voice made you almost jump.

“Miggy, Gabi, I’m here!” A woman’s voice, which sounded nothing but fun and playful, rang from downstairs.

“She’s here!” Gabi crowed, taking your hand and leading you out of your room once more.

“Who’s here?” You didn’t even have time to blink as you let Gabi lead you to the top of the staircase. The child let go of your hand, running down the staircase and into the arms of the mysterious woman who stood in front of the elevator that led into the penthouse.

As you descended the staircase, you got a better view of the woman. She looked around Miguel’s age yet had a fun sense of style. Her chestnut bob, transparent pink heart sunglasses, tan boots, and cream mink coat worn over a white blouse and khaki slacks all complemented each other. In her hands was a paper bag with small grease stains at the bottom.

From the way Gabi enveloped the woman in a big hug, and the way the woman called Miguel “Miggy,” you couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was Gabi’s mom, and/or Miguel’s partner, or…

“Auntie Lyla!” Gabi calling the woman “Auntie Lyla” broke you out of your thoughts.

“How’s my favorite O’Hara doing?” The woman, Lyla, gave Gabriella a huge squeeze.

“Great! Papá and I took a princess home with us!” Gabriella beamed up at Lyla.

“Oh?” Lyla winked at Gabi as if Gabi just told her that Gabi got a new princess toy or something. Lyla then caught sight of you a few feet away at the foot of the staircase. Her eyebrows flew up in genuine shock. “Oh!”

“Hi,” you tentatively made your way towards the two, extending a hand to Lyla. “I’m Y/N, a princess party cosplayer, and I’m staying with Miguel and Gabriella for the time being.”

You were nothing but surprised when Lyla gave you a strong handshake but had the kindest smile on her face. “Nice to meet you! I’m Lyla, a long-time friend of Miggy’s, but I like to call myself the cooler younger sister he never had.”

Lyla seemed fun and sassy and you liked her already. Lyla seemed to like you already, too, from the way her smile turned into a wide and mischievous grin. “So Miggy finally found somebody, huh?”

Your eyes practically widened out of your sockets. “Oh! No, no, no, it’s not like that,” you waved your hands, shaking your head profusely. “I just met Miguel and Gabriella last night, and Miguel was kind enough to let me stay here.”

“Ohhhh,” Lyla blinked, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “How did you all meet?”

“So kind of a long story, but I got kicked out of my apartment for being behind on rent after coming back from working at a children’s party in princess cosplay,” you let out in a rush, barely believing that all that happened to you in less than twenty-four hours. “I was sitting on a bench and suddenly this little one came up to me.”

“Yeah! I found Princess Y/N!” Gabriella rested her hands on her hips proudly.

“I’m sorry about you getting kicked out, that sucks,” Lyla expressed her sympathy to you before her curiosity took over once more. “Wait, how did Gabi find you?”

“Well from what I learned yesterday, she ran off from Miguel when they were getting ice cream,” you answered, absentmindedly pulling one of the slipping bow straps back onto your shoulder.

“You did?!” Lyla’s eyes widened in shock, turning to Gabi before holding out her palm for a high-five. “Nice!”

You laughed as Gabriella—who didn’t really understand—high-fived Lyla anyways. Before you could talk with Lyla more, the sound of footsteps making their way down the staircase filled the living room.

The three of you looked up to see Miguel, who looked more put-together now than he did a few minutes ago. His chestnut waves were gelled back, making his thick eyebrows and sharp jawline look more prominent. He was dressed in a form-fitting white dress shirt tucked into gray slacks.

“Don’t encourage my daughter, Lyla,” Miguel frowned, though his attention was on the navy tie he was fastening around his neck as he reached the foot of the staircase. “And what are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too, Miggy,” Lyla propped one hand on her hip. “Did you forget I was taking Gabi to school today?”

“Huh? Since when?” Miguel mumbled, his frown deepening in confusion as his eyes snapped up from his tie to look at his friend.

“Since you told me last week that you would need to go to work a bit earlier today for an important meeting,” Lyla replied in a “duh” tone. “So you asked me to take Gabi to school today.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw went slack. His eyes then flew down to his watch. “8:45 a.m., mierda,” a curse word slipped from Miguel’s lips, and Lyla instantly used her hands to cover up Gabi’s ears.

“Breakfast,” Miguel mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to make breakfast.”

“I got you covered on that,” Lyla held up the paper bag in her hands. “I bought breakfast bagel sandwiches! They were selling four for $4 so I got four. Thought four would be too much but now it seems perfect.”

Lyla winked at you, and you shot her a grateful smile. Lyla seemed like she’d be a good friend, and you hoped that you would get to know her more.

“Perfect, thank you,” Miguel walked into a little study room near the kitchen to get his things.

“Auntie Lyla, can you please help me tie my shoes?” Gabi took her lavender light-up sneakers from the shoe rack and sat down on the floor.

“Of course,” Lyla sat down on the floor across from Gabriella to tie her shoes.

You sat down next to them, watching as Lyla tied the shoelaces on Gabi’s shoes. “Can I ask you something, Lyla?” you rested your face in your palm.

“Yeah, shoot,” Lyla finished tying up Gabi’s shoes and stood up, making you and Gabi stand up as well.

“How long have you known Miguel and Gabriella?” Your question was one of genuine curiosity.

“I used to work as Miggy’s assistant for years until I started my own fashion magazine company, though I’ve been helping him out here and there with Gabi ever since she was born,” Lyla gave Gabi a loving side hug. “Wait, you’re into fashion, right?”

Before you could answer “yes,” Miguel came back to the three of you with a brown leather satchel crossed over his torso and Gabi’s pink princess school backpack dangling on one of his arms.

Lyla took that as a cue to hand two breakfast bagel sandwiches to you, one for you and one for Miguel.

“We’ll eat these on our way to your school, ok?” Lyla winked down at Gabi, who nodded up at her aunt.

“Walking while eating can be dangerous,” Miguel grumbled at Lyla as he bent down in front of Gabriella, helping her put on her backpack.

“She’ll be fine, Miggy,” Lyla waved her hand dismissively.

“Remember to—,” Miguel began.

“—cross the streets safely, look both ways, I know, I know,” Lyla rolled her hazel eyes at Miguel. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to Gabi.”

You knew Miguel was overprotective of Gabi, but now you were seeing more instances of how much overprotective he could be of his only child. It made sense a bit to you, since it seemed like Gabi was Miguel’s only constant family member.

Miguel let out a huff before planting a soft kiss on Gabi’s forehead. “Have a good day at school, ok? After I pick you up and we eat dinner, I’ll take you out for ice cream like I promised.”

“Yay, ice cream!” Gabi’s warm brown orbs glittered at the mention of ice cream. She lunged forward, hugging Miguel’s neck. “Bye, Papá!”

After a few seconds of hugging her father, Gabi let him go and ran over to you.

“Bye, Princess Y/N!” Gabi threw her arms around you as you bent down at eye level for her. “I wanna get ice cream with you and Papá after dinner!”

“Have a fun day at school, little one,” you gently booped Gabi’s nose with your free hand while your other hand held the two sandwiches. Your action made Gabi giggle as if she was sprinkled with fairy dust.

You were too occupied with saying “bye” to Gabi to hear Miguel and Lyla chat with each other, until you glanced up and saw Miguel shooing Lyla into the elevator with a mildly-annoyed expression on his face while she had a mischievous smirk on hers.

“C’mon Gabi, let’s go,” Lyla called to Gabi as she stepped into the elevator, ignoring Miguel. “Your dad’s being grumpy since he hasn’t eaten breakfast yet.”

“Bye Papá, bye Princess Y/N!” Gabriella waved to you and Miguel and ran into the elevator to join Lyla. “Make sure to eat breakfast, Papá! It’s the most important meal of the day!”

You made your way to stand next to Miguel, the both of you waving to Gabi and Lyla before the elevator doors closed.

“I usually tell her that,” Miguel hummed, his eyes soft. “And somehow it’s now the other way around.”

“She’s a good kid,” your own gaze was soft as you and Miguel continued to look at the closed elevator doors.

“She is,” Miguel replied with all the love and pride for his daughter.

You then turned your head to Miguel. “So, uh, do you want me to stay here until you and Gabi get home? Or if you want me to get out of here while you’re at work, I can just walk around the city and look for another job or something.”

“You won’t be able to get into this building again if you go out, come back, and I’m not there,” Miguel made his way over to the shoe rack and bent down on one knee to put on his black dress shoes and tie the shoestrings.

“Ah, right,” you stayed put. “So should I just stay here then?”

You weren’t sure what you could do in Miguel’s home by yourself other than eat the bagel sandwich Lyla gave you, wait for Nancy to text you back, and look up more jobs on your phone.

Plus, you couldn’t even wash your clothes until Miguel taught you how to use his laundry room.

“You can come with me to work,” Miguel looked over his shoulder to you while securing his shoestrings before straightening up. “I’ll get my assistant Ben to help you find a job somewhere.”

“Huh? Are you sure?” Despite your shock and confusion, you went over to the shoe rack to slip on your sneakers. You also felt curious about finding out about Miguel’s job from the way he mentioned he had an assistant.

Miguel nodded, pressing the button next to the elevator. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in.

You scurried into the elevator, the two breakfast bagel sandwiches in your hands. “Here,” you handed one to Miguel. To your surprise, he took it but placed the wrapped-up sandwich in his satchel.

“I’ll eat it after my meeting,” Miguel brought his left wrist up to look at his watch again.

You peeked at his silver watch, which you noticed was a state-of-the-art smart watch with a gold-and-orange screen. On the screen read the time: 8:51 a.m.

“You sure?” You blurted, concerned for Miguel but also not wanting the lengthy ninety-nine-floors-down elevator flight to ensue in painfully-awkward silence.

Miguel’s eyes flitted to you, and before he could open his mouth, a rather angry rumble erupted from his stomach.

The two of you averted your eyes from each other, Miguel doing so to pretend his stomach didn’t make such a noise and you doing so to save him any embarrassment.

However, you found yourself speaking up once more.

“Miguel, I don’t want to overstep, but like Gabi said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you gave him a tiny smile. “Plus, we have some time. There’s still like…eighty floors left.”

He looked at his watch again, and you peeked over to see that it was now 8:55 a.m. Miguel let out a sigh of frustration, but he dug his hand into his satchel and took out the breakfast bagel sandwich.

“I should’ve chosen a shorter building to live in,” he grumbled, before unwrapping the sandwich and biting into it.

“Maybe,” you chuckled, before unwrapping your own sandwich. Miguel let out a huff, but his lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile.

50…30…The elevator ride down to the lobby was still long, and while you and Miguel both ate your respective breakfast bagel sandwiches in silence, it was a comfortable silence.

MIguel finished his sandwich by the time the elevator descended to the 20th floor, and you were just about done with your sandwich as well. You then turned to Miguel in an effort to start some more conversation. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Miguel raised a brow at you.

“Did you…sleep well last night, Miguel?” You noticed that the eye bags he had under his eyes last night were completely gone, and his entire face seemed a bit more relaxed now.

“Huh? Oh,” Miguel blinked as if he didn’t expect you to ask him that. “…Yeah, I did. Did you?”

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise; you weren’t expecting Miguel to ask you that, or ask you anything, really. “I did, too. I ended up waking a bit early but it wasn’t because of the bed or the room or anything. Everything in the room is just wonderful.”

In an effort to voice your appreciation to Miguel for him letting you stay in his home, you didn’t realize you sounded optimistic and dreamy like a princess.

“Wonderful,” Miguel murmured. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you cocked your head to the side, not even aware that your action made you look more princess-like.

“Do you always sound like a princess or is it just to keep an act for Gabi?” Miguel rested his palms on his hips.

“Do you always sound like a pessimistic man who wears pink bunny slippers and owns a Spider-Man toothbrush?” You shot back without thinking, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Look, I’m just saying that I appreciate it when you do it for Gabi, but you don’t have to keep up that act around me when Gabi’s not here,” Miguel crossed his arms in front of his chest, mirroring your stance. “And for the record, Spider-Man toothbrushes are cool.”

“It’s not an act, it’s called optimism.” Instead of mirroring his furrowed eyebrows and mouth set in a straight line, you raised your eyebrows a bit and shot Miguel a smirk. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Miguel opened his mouth as if to make a comeback, but the elevator interrupted him with a Ding!

You waited, expecting for Miguel to step through the elevator first so that he could rush to work while you followed him. Instead, he stepped forward to the side.

“After you,” Miguel reached an arm out between the opening of the elevator to keep it open for you. His gentlemanly gesture shocked you, especially since he basically accused you of being fake five seconds ago.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you decided to give him a quick and comical curtsy in an attempt to get back at him before you stepped through the elevator.

You made your way to the glass exit doors. Miguel strode up to you as you tossed your sandwich wrapper in a trash can near the door and he followed suit. He then placed a hand on the handle of the exit doors, but before he could push through them, he looked at you.

“Are you ok with speed-walking?” Miguel asked you.

You arched an eyebrow. “Sure, I’m wearing my sneakers. Are we going to speed-walk to the subway?”

“No, we’re going to walk to my workplace since the building I work at is just a couple of streets down,” Miguel replied before opening the door for you. “We don’t have time for curtsies.”

“I wasn’t going to curtsy this time,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest once more as you made your way outside.

Before you could look back at Miguel and blink, he strode past you. Thankfully, before you could register what happened, your feet followed after him.

So much for being a gentleman!

You speed-walked into the street that led out of Miguel’s apartment complex and the others surrounding his. Miguel was a few feet further ahead, and you were thankful he was as tall as he was so that you could see him and follow him.

As you sped past pedestrians and street vendors, you barely heard them shout at you to get out of the way or to check out their merchandise.

“A sunflower for the beautiful lady!” An elderly male florist selling bouquets in the open street held out a single sunflower to you.

“Oh! Thank you, but I can’t accept that for free,” you stopped in your tracks.

“Nonsense, these are going to wilt soon,” the elderly florist gave you a kind smile. “I’d rather give them away than have to throw them away.”

The sunflower, warm as sunshine with its golden petals, as well as the florist’s kindness, made you feel hopeful to find a way to continue living in Nueva York. As you took the flower from the florist and opened your mouth to say “thank you,” your eyes caught sight of Miguel walking back to you.

“What are you doing?” Miguel narrowed his eyes down at the flower in your hands as if it was laced with poison.

“The kind florist gave it to me,” you held the flower close to you indignantly.

The florist held out another sunflower to Miguel. “And one for the beautiful lady’s beau.”

Your and Miguel’s heads snapped to each other and then to the florist at the same time.

“Miguel’s not my—,” you began.

“They’re not my—,” Miguel blurted at the same time, before shaking his head. “Let’s just go.”

“Thank you for the flowers!” You gratefully took the sunflower that the florist offered Miguel before walking up to Miguel’s side.

Miguel glanced at the two sunflowers in your hands before fixing his gaze straight ahead. “You know you can’t accept things for free, right? Especially in Nueva York.”

“I know that,” you let out a sigh of exasperation at Miguel. “It’s just that the florist told me they’d rather give these flowers away than throw them away because they’re wilting soon. I think it would be a shame to see such pretty flowers go to waste, too.”

Miguel looked at the sunflowers again. “Gabi’s favorite flowers are sunflowers,” Miguel’s voice, which previously had an edge of stress, grew soft once he mentioned his daughter.

“I can give her one when she gets home,” you hummed, smiling even more at the thought of giving Gabi a sunflower. You put the two sunflowers gently into one of your dress pockets for safekeeping.

Miguel’s face softened a bit, and he pointed down the street. “We’re almost there.”

You weren’t great at memorizing the many streets, districts, and boroughs of Nueva York, so you wondered how it was possible Miguel’s workplace was only a few streets down from his apartment complex.

All you knew was that the area surrounding Miguel’s apartment complex had one side that led down several streets to an area with restaurants and shops, near where Miguel and Gabi met you last night.

And the other side, where you and him were headed, you weren’t too sure. But as you were greeted with corporate skyscrapers, you were beginning to have an idea.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the front of a silver skyscraper with sky blue glass panels. The building, with its state-of-the-art pointed architecture, was so tall and imposing that it reminded you of Miguel in a way.

The building was also so famous even you knew what it was. You whipped your head to Miguel as the two of you walked up to the front doors. “You work at Spider-Society HQ?”

Spider-Society HQ, based in Nueva York, had risen to fame in recent years as an innovative company focused in the scientific fields of genetics and physics.

You didn’t know anything about the company other than that, and now seeing the discreet crimson spider logo on the doors, you realized it was the same one on your dress pocket from Miguel’s shirt.

How did I miss it? You looked down to your dress pocket that had the building’s logo on it. To be fair, science companies and their logos were never at the forefront of your mind.

Miguel scanned the screen of his watch on the key panel. The green light on the key panel indicated its recognition of Miguel, and soon the building’s front doors slid apart with a gentle hiss!

He straightened his tie before stepping into the building with you. You quickly noticed that Miguel exuded an air of professionalism and even regality—like a king ready to take on the weight of his kingdom.

“Technically, I’m the Chief Executive Officer of Spider-Society HQ.”

🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, I give you a 🎃 cuz it’s Halloween season lol. Also thank you to @animusicnerd for proofreading this chapter throughout the two months I’ve been writing it 🫶

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[innominaterifter]

None of the fans of "Worm" could resist taking a photo or video in a cafe with that name.

I chose the most secluded table and tried to do everything unnoticed, and on the whole my plan was a success. But I did not take into account children's curiosity.

A little boy, who was bored sitting with his mother and her friends, wandered around the cafe and looked for something interesting. Well, he found.

I only noticed him when I heard a loud sigh and saw a face with widened eyes peeking out from behind the back of a chair at a nearby empty table. Hmm, maybe insects that bring sugar cubes are not the most common thing he sees every day.

I didn’t want any problems with the cafe’s administration, so I couldn’t find anything better than putting my finger to my lips and making “Shhhh.” It seemed to me that it would look humorous and friendly and at the same time convey a request not to attract attention.

Okay, that didn't work.

(HelpMe.file: Perhaps I should not have called for silence, but, on the contrary, been friendly and offered to introduce him to my insects. Children, unlike adults, are often much less prejudiced towards them. I should try this tactic next time)

The boy sighed loudly again (or was it a hiccup?), jumped onto the floor and ran to his mother. I quickly picked up the roach from the table and placed it on my neck so that it was hidden by my hair. There was no time to hide the insect in its container, especially since this would be a noticeable action. I wanted to leave my hands free just in case, but practice has shown that putting a roach in my pocket is not a good idea: this species is quite agile, although not very fast, and if it decides to crawl out of the pocket, it will definitely do it at the most inopportune moment, and I won't even feel it. On my neck, I feel exactly where it is and what it is doing, and if necessary, I can stop it or direct it in a different direction simply by pretending to straighten my hair.

At the same time, I heard the boy, swallowing his words with excitement, telling his mother about what he saw and pointing his finger in our direction. I was ready for anything, but I counted on the fact that parents rarely believe their children when they talk about something strange or unusual. A cockroach bringing sugar cubes to tea would likely fall into both of these categories.

So I smiled friendly and put on an understanding, sympathetic look code-named “Oh-these-children!”.

I have seen it performed by my relatives quite often. Then I didn’t understand what exactly it was about my behavior that made them feel uncomfortable in front of other people, but just in case, I remembered the corresponding facial expression with an embarrassed smile, a sigh, an eye roll and a shrug.

This is a very convenient reaction if you don't know how to react to almost any story about children (people very often - too often! - like to talk about their children).

It worked here too. Well, what the boy described was really not what people expect from reality. The child’s mother answered me with the same facial expression with an increased inclusion of the apologetic component (if you are interested, then the eyebrows are responsible for this; a stronger raising of the eyebrows up and towards each other. The lips too stretch more strongly downward than to the sides, the lower lip is tense and, as it were, propped up the upper one, creating a sad arch and only the corners of the lips indicate a smile. The movements of the shoulders and arms also change somewhat).

As I thought, she chose to believe not her son, but the picture of the world that had formed in her head and in this picture insects do not help drink tea.

But in any case, I decided that it was time for us to leave this cafe. We shot the video, and I could have finished my croissant with tea in some other place. Moreover, I needed to transplant the cockroach from my neck into its container, and it was better not to do this here since the offended little gremlin did not take his eyes off me.

So far, the cockroach behaved exemplary and sat calmly under my hair, but at any moment, its ganglion could sparkle and send the owner to look for adventure. I didn’t want to catch a cockroach on my cheeks or pull it out from under my clothes.

I stood up and headed towards the exit, accompanied by a suspicious look from the boy and an embarrassed and apologetic look from his mother. And when I opened the door to the street, two things happened at the same time: the cockroach got bored and started moving towards my jaw; a gust of street wind blew my hair back exposing my neck.

Umm, it turned out quite dramatic.

The boy squealed both triumphantly and fearfully and began pointing his finger in my direction, attracting the attention of his mother and her friends. But I was already on the street, the door slammed shut, cutting off the sounds from me. I returned the hair and the insect to their place and, walking past the large display windows of the cafe, out of the corner of my eye I saw the boy’s mother and several of her friends looking at me in dumbfounded looks.

Well, maybe next time she will decide to believe her son and not the stranger at the next table. But overall, it was fun, I love such accidents.

[des-no9]

Des' Githyanki Genitals HC

Hey and welcome to another lore dump of Des' githyanki HCs!!! As usual, we're all about sex and fucking in here, and githyanki are aliens. So we gotta make their bits fun.

Also, they lay eggs now (never used to apparently, we'll get to that). So I've accounted for that in their genitals.

Also!! I'l got different HCs for the Older generation githyanki -think Voss and Orpheus age- as I HC the githyanki that were alive during their rebellion, and not long after it, differ somewhat to modern githyanki like Lae'zel, and one of my OCs who will be modelling, Tuj.

Gonna go chronologically here, and start with the oldies. Voss is my model for this (obviously).

This is a long post btw lol. Also disclaimer: I'm only talking about the githyanki mostly. Thinking about the githzerai and their reproduction is a whole other beast LOL. Enjoy <3

Obvious TW for talk of slavery, breeding, eggs, violence, rape, lots of genitalia talk and art by yours truly

Older Generation Githyanki Genitals - during ensalvement to early Vlaakiths.

So the vague general consensus in the lore seems to be that the gith originally descended from humans in the very beginning, and this makes me think that their genitals early on during their enslavement and early in their freedom were closer to what we know our human genitalia to be.

But, then we have the illithid's experiments and how that changed their physiology quite vastly over the X number of years.

I HC that many of the illithid colonies varied, and so therefore so did the githyanki (shall be using githyanki to refer to them then even if that wasn't their name then). Some colonies were more focused purely on the numbers, breeding, breeding to send to other colonies for X purposes in their slavery. (I HC Vlaakith I was a branded breeding slave). So would have efficient genitalia. Maybe very little sexual dimorphism. Maybe closer to the modern githyanki like now with asexual breeding.

Some other colonies (like one I HC Voss came from) were bred purely as soldiers, attack and guard dogs. So they refined their physiology very strictly to breed the best, the strongest. Bearing in mind the need for the best warriors and breeders, so therefore keeping their genitalia tucked away and protected when not in use was essential.

It also makes me think things about some of the illithid colonies essentially neutering the githyanki in gestation and only keeping a select few breeders (much parallels to modern githyanki lol) basically to stop their slaves having sexual desire for each other or anything else, cutting it off and only having necessary urges. But I digress.

Basically during this era and the early years before they started breeding through eggs, I HC there was MUCH more variance in their genitalia (and probably some of their other physiology honestly) before it started to become much more streamlined through their eggs and no doubt the Vlaakiths interfering with their breeding to create the best, supreme, unified race in the one Vlaakith's vision.

So, I sketched up what I imagined Voss' genitals to be (obviously). I HC he has a slit where his bits are protected during fighting, since he was bred to be a fighter/attack dog for the illithid.

NOTE: his slit extends further down.

Notes and important points if you can't read my writing:

cock (easy word to use for it) sheathed inside slit

slit widens and gets wet when aroused, and the skin inside is rough, but is usually wrapped around to protect the cock even if the slit widens on arousal

cock can be pulled out from its sheath manually and how it sits soft

so, Voss' is a little different to the rest of his colonies would have looked purely because it's scarred to shit (from his hubris) They mostly all had two dicks, but the scar tissue healed his together (don't worry, he gets them separated again :>) and they can stick together as one if you want during arousal, or can be used as two For Their Pleasure :tm:

the tip can move independently. Very sensitive.

can come through slit and cock

slit gets wet and easily over stimulated

can come from slit stimulation alone

I think his colony bred more 'traditionally' how we know it as humans. Voss was a traditionally bred and live birth baby to me (Orpheus too). I think a lot of the early githyanki were traditionally bred as we know it, but some with varying ways of conception, birth lengths, delivery, even incubation

I like to think that maybe little spikes come out of the ridges on his cock to embed into whoever he's fucking if he wants to, to hold them in place, for some extra pain and usual githyanki sadism. This was specific to his colony and maybe one or two others, and maybe appears again in some modern githyanki.

I HC Orpheus has a slit too, but is maybe a little more in the human camp to what we know genitalia to be like since he's also ancient and a traditional non-egg baby. Closer to the ancestors they came from. I just like to HC that because he IS a little more....gentler, rounder, smooth, 'humanised' than a lot of the other githyanki we see. I love thinking about the little differences that set Orpheus apart from his people, even though he IS his people, the lifeblood of them. The blood of their Mother. Anyway, I digress.

Basically, for the oldies I think there's a LOT of freedom to be creative and almost do anything, using the illithid experiments, that they're aliens and so much unknown as our excuse. Also don't forget the most important - fun, and shoving all our kinks onto our fictional loves 24/7.

Modern Githyanki Genitalia HCS - egg time

So, the shift to egg laying and apparently it's asexual. I have a LOT of thoughts about this. With this happening thousands of years ago and also with them transitioning from NOT egg laying (putting in the assumption of live births here) to egg laying, there would be some sort of accommodation and change in their physiology for this, right?

Also this doesn't happen quickly. Magic can help yes! Also, they're aliens. Aliens can defy everything and anything we know as humans. I try not to press too much of our human and earth knowledge and experience onto alien races because who is to say their experiences and such are like ours. And also it makes it more fun for me to step away from the known into unknown and other possibilities. But anyway.

Lae'zel says the transition happened to egg laying after they were freed from the illithid and under Vlaakith's power. Now, I like to HC that Vlaakith kind of has this under her control (and therefore, all the subsequent Vlaakith's control). It's kind of like, a mass population control, sterilisation, selective, experimental and controlled breeding to try create her own perfect race in essence.

The execution is flawed, of course. Probably changes over time with all the (over 100) of Vlaakiths and leadership changes, in-fighting, evolution of the githyanki from the beginning of their enslavement to now. But the idea is there. And it sticks.

Okay so. As above I mentioned I HC there was a lot of differences between the githyanki in their genitalia from the different illithid colonies. And at first, transitioning to egg laying was probably a slow process as the first generation probably died out, or through their own ghustils, technology, psionics, they started to try to change their own bodies to accommodate egg laying. Some failed, some managed it. It was a difficult process that also in essence weeded out the weak for Vlaakith too.

And then once the eggs started laying, hatching, they probably still tinkered with them. Making sure the hatchlings that were born would be able to breed more and were born right, strong, and the proper future of their people. There were still probably live births happening at the very start during the transition, but magic and psionics probably sped this process along - even if it was probably very traumatic for a lot of newly annointed githyanki. Jumping from being experimented on by illithid in slave colonies to experimenting on yourself, and by your ghustil on order of your Queen? Fantastic. Just brilliant.

Fast forward to now and the githyanki genitalia are mostly uniform I think. Much more so than when they first gained their freedom and called themselves githyanki.

I think there's probably still some differences. Like genetic anomalies. And also that the atmosphere/plane etc of long-term creches can have influences on their hatcheries/eggs. Say a creche on a completely different material plane to Faerun's, or it's near like somewhere with intense psionic or void energy. I think things like that could (and do in canon!) have definite changes on physiology. (NOTE: I also like thinking about this in regard to things like skin-tone, texture, spot pattern, hair colour, face shape, accent.....the list is endless lol)

Okay. So. Without further delay here is my OC Tuj'da to model his bits for you :3

Notes:

some githyanki have less/more slits. Less is much less common as three is standard for efficient egg-laying.

all sexes can lay eggs

their shape and layout can look unique/different. eg, longer, smaller, more protruding. Think like different penis and vulva shapes. (Note: I took a lot of inspiration for the shape of their genitals from Art Deco shapes and style lol)

much like the older generation githyanki slits if they had them, they widen when aroused, and also when carrying eggs and to lay them

some githyanki are more sensitive in their smaller/egg slits than their main slits

their is sexual dimorphism between their genitals usually, but that can only be seen when aroused.

their cock positioning can be different too from where it comes from, and folds up and inside the githyanki. Lots of githyanki can control the length of their cock by using their psionics, but does require significant concentration and skill

very sensitive at the middle of their cock so some of them like to shorten it to cover that bit up to last even longer sometimes

they can be fucked with their cock tucked inside. It's uncomfortable for some, for others it's the best thing on the menu.

very short refractory period, if at all

they cum a lot. It tastes kind of sweet.

(after Vlaakith's sterilisation and population control is dissolved) fertilisation often requires psonics of some sort

I'm undecided on this, but for such a violent race that rape and also enjoy consenting sexual violence, I think maybe they'd also evolve/keep/develop the small spikes in their ridges that they can make pop out at will to embed into their partner. These ALSO come out from the ridged skin inside the sheath, not just the cock :>

their skin in general is rougher, tougher than other istik races so can take a much rougher fuck, and I think a willing istik's first time with a githyanki partner, there might be a bit of adjustment for...soreness lol

I haven't got many HCs for their actual fertilisation, their eggs, pregnancy etc as pregnancy etc can be a bit of squick for me, but most other things around it and eggs etc are okay. So I haven't thought too much about the actual way they GET egged up, lay them, fertilised etc. Maybe that's for another day.

For now, hope you enjoy these HCs! Some of them may change/I may adapt them as I continue to write the githyanki, but I feel like I'm happy with most of this!

Feel free to use any and all if you enjoy them <3! Thank you for reading and getting this far, hah. I just love the githyanki so much, they bring me so much joy. And I hope they do to you too.

-Des

[arteastica]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (27)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 3.2k

Marie. Her name thrown at you unsolicited, an intrusion so abrupt and unexpected you could feel it bruising your chest. Or, perhaps, it was the violent hammering within your rib cage that accounted for all the pain, because inside, your heart surged and throbbed with the force of water crashing against the riverbank.

Hesitant to lift your gaze and recognize her unknown face in the crowd, or worse, catch his dreamy blues staring into hers, you kept your head down, clutching his arm with the kind of intensity that bordered on desperation. And, while you hoped you weren’t hurting him, you knew you had no other choice. Your hands were the only ones who could reassure you that he was still there, by your side and not hers, since your eyes didn’t dare to even glance his way. And, honestly, you couldn’t blame them for that. What if he could see through them? What if one glance was all it would take for him to learn about all those stupid emotions chaotically swirling within you at the moment? What if he found out about all those pathetic little thoughts you were so ashamed of?

“Same as usual, albeit a little busier now that a new one is on the way.” Commander Nile’s unexpected response encouraged you to look up. Carefully at first, as if giving your eyes time to adjust to a brighter light, and then scanning your surroundings with more ease, a tide of relief washing over you when your eyes couldn’t find anyone linked arm in arm with Commander Nile, and most importantly, no one your Commander’s eyes could wistfully linger towards. In the relief however, you also found shame. Shame and disappointment.

Because you hated that it was like this.

You hated that you were like this.

Vulnerable and small.

Why did you have to let it all consume you? How could a mere name stir up such turmoil within? How was someone from his past, absent and unknown to you, able to hurt you this much?

Amidst the backdrop of laughter and cheerful music lifting everyone's spirits, you couldn't help but feel pathetic and insignificant. Out of place. Like dirty, stepped-on, three-day-old snow hiding under a blanket of freshly fallen, perfectly textured, shimmering whiteness. And it was no one else’s fault but yours.

You had spent enough nights pouring your thoughts and secrets into your journal to know that the problem was you. You, and not her. Always you, never Marie Dok. Always you, never any other woman from his past. The venom that infiltrated your mind that winter afternoon when Hitch had told you about his ex-lover, or that early fall night when Lord Wald had mentioned his intentions to wed his lady daughter to the Commander, that agonizing presence coiling within your chest like a snake… it would persist indefinitely because something within you continued to nurture it. The problem had always been you, and unless you did something to change it, you would forever continue to be the source of your own distress.

"I understand. Congratulations to the both of you." The Commander's husky voice interrupted your thoughts; something, probably your survival instincts, cautioning you against the urge to meet his gaze. Whatever emotion lingered in his eyes, you were better off not knowing, especially in your current fragile state. "Please convey my greetings to her." He added, and though you sensed a smile in his tone, you couldn't discern whether it was genuine or tinged with longing. But then again, you harbored no desire to find out.

"I will." Commander Nile replied tersely, both his voice as well as his eyes devoid of any particular emotion; the latter though, were still shadowed by dark, prominent bags.

“Tell Marie I take no offense at her absence. I understand daily life can become chaotic, especially when you throw a young kid or two into the mix.” Said Lord Koch, as he snagged a couple of drinks from a passing waiter.

“Very chaotic indeed.” Commander Nile agreed, taking the amber-colored liquid his friend was offering.

“And if that’s the case, then what are you doing here drinking apple toddies?” Mrs. Koch intervened, her expressive eyes drilling the question straight into Commander Nile’s soul, who almost returned the sip he had just taken. “Pregnancy is a perilous journey where every step should be taken together.” She concluded, snagging her husband’s glass and raising it as though silently toasting to all the caring husbands who didn’t abandon their pregnant wives at home. “Take heed, Erwin, for when you have children of your own.” She added, unexpectedly sending a wink your way, as she brought the glass to her smirking lips.

You clutched his arm again, Mrs. Koch’s remark setting your cheeks and ears ablaze, and you were yet to recover from the sudden leap your heart had taken at her words, when you sensed his gaze upon you.

“Is everything alright?” The Commander whispered gently, and realizing that you had probably been holding him way too tight, you eased your grip. Funnily enough, amidst all the turmoil happening inside, your mind didn’t fail to notice how soft his tone was. His words always sounded so different when they were directed at you. There was a distinct warmth to his voice, when he knew you would be the one hearing it. Just as there was a unique depth to his eyes, when you were the one meeting them. And, not wishing to keep them waiting, you finally gathered the courage to look up, bravely meeting his gaze.

You would claim surprise, but deep down, you knew that would be a lie. After all, when had his gentle blues ever failed to captivate you? This morning, the golden sunlight shimmering upon transformed them into a glistening stream, enchanting you entirely and urging you to jump into its inviting waters and confide. The sweetness in his voice sounding way too tempting, so tempting that you could taste the words on your lips, the lingering bitterness which you knew he would help sweeten. The burdensome worries that you knew he would help alleviate.

“I’m just a little thirsty.” You replied with a smile, swallowing your intentions to ask for help, along the beautiful delusion Mrs. Koch’s remark had helped create, upon deciding this was not the place, nor the time for any of that. Because for once in his demanding, fast-paced line of work, he had this day to himself, he had this bright spring morning to enjoy celebrating his friend, and you refused to be the one to darken it with your grey.

“Come on, Augusta, let the man enjoy a day off for once. Aren’t the dreadful circles under his eyes pitiful enough?”

You heard the Kochs squabbling in the background, though their voices faded more and more into a distant murmur the longer you held his gaze.

“…plus it’s not like he abandoned his wife or anything, we all know how much Marie enjoys the quiet of her home.”

Mr. Koch’s words were barely audible over the continuous laughter of nearby partygoers.

“…I myself would move to Karanes if Mitras didn’t keep me so busy.”

If the crowd hadn’t swallowed her and your father, your mother would undoubtedly be here, front row, lecturing you about the impropriety of ignoring older individuals. However, you had no attention to spare for the Kochs. It wasn’t your fault that the beautiful sapphires locking eyes with you were so utterly distracting.

“Marie’s elusive beauty tends to evade congested occasions like today’s, or so Leon would say. Are you familiar with my nephew’s work, Nile?”

They were so distracting, reassuring, and comforting that you couldn’t even fully concentrate on the words coming from his own smiling lips. Something about citrus punch and syrup water. So you simply nodded, silently praying that his eyes would never look at another in the same way they were now looking at you.

When you left the Kochs, the conversation had unexpectedly shifted into a literary discussion about Leon’s poetry, early influences, and even his horror anthology; and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for potentially interrupting what would have been a pleasant chat between the Commander and his friend. As you let him guide you away to the drinks table, you exchanged a smile with Mrs. Koch who was waving you goodbye, prompting thoughts of your own mother and her current whereabouts.

“Everything okay, princess?” He whispered lovingly, leaning in as soon as you were out of earshot; his sweet, velvety words reaching your ears and offering much needed comfort.

“I am, but…it’s just that- Commander Nile can be a bit intimidating.” You lied, opting once again to keep your discomfort and concerns to yourself.

“Well, he could have been your boss.” He joked, amused, and you chuckled in response, your initial aspirations of joining the Military Police looking more and more like someone else’s dreams now. And, although you weren’t sure whether your response convinced him, you appreciated he didn’t press the matter further.

“True, and then I wouldn’t be here interrupting your chances to impress everyone with your vast literary knowledge.” You teased, trying your best to fall back into the cheerful mood you were in when you had first stepped into the courtyard less than an hour ago. “You want to head back there and theorize about Leon’s horror stories?”

“I’d rather not think about it, if given the choice.” He said with a poorly feigned shudder. “The second story in Lord Angert’s anthology made me think twice about setting foot on a basement again.”

The idea of someone like Erwin Smith enjoying ghost stories made you snort, yet thoughts of Eren’s basement in the Shiganshina district started creeping into your mind, and laughing suddenly felt very inappropriate.

“Not to mention, I can think of far more appealing activities I’d much rather be engaging in right now.” He added unexpectedly, causing a knowing smirk to take over your lips, as you wondered whether those happened to be, by any chance, the same type of activities you were thinking about earlier, when you first encountered him in the middle of the courtyard.

“Let’s say for example?”

“I assume a Mitras princess would know her graceful way around the dance floor.”

“I would presume so, but my Commander, one can only imagine the disappointment on their faces if you were to open the dance floor by dancing with your assistant.” You teased with feigned innocence, following his eyes as they hungrily traced your lips and jawline, something forbidden about this dynamic you had clearly exciting something within.

“My lady!”

You turned around at the delicate touch of satin on your forearm.

“There you a- Oh! Commander Smith!”

The blue sky painted behind her, the wind playing with her reddish-brown locks, and the diamonds on her W brooch, sparkling under the sun, turned the Koch’s courtyard into a heavenly scene, something inside you brightening at the angelic sight before you.

“Lady Angelika.” You greeted her enthusiastically, smiling as you squeezed the delicate hand she had placed in yours. “It’s nice t-”

“Father was spot on. You did arrive, as he foretold.” She uttered unexpectedly, cutting you off and shifting her focus to the man beside you.

“My lady.” He sent an acknowledging nod her way, the smile gracing his lips perfectly mirroring the one Lady Angelika was putting on for him, a sign that told you that they had crossed paths in the past. “I’m afraid my predictions lack the same accuracy. I was convinced your lord father would be present, as he is renowned for seizing every chance to uplift the spirits.”

“It was indeed his desire to attend, but in a very unfortunate turn of events, his spring allergies reached him faster than Uncle Hansel’s invitation could.” She explained cutely, her delicate fingers gently tucking a strand of auburn behind her ear, and her angelic eyes resembling two perfectly round dollops of honey as she gazed up at the Commander.

“Very unfortunate indeed.”

Lady Angelika chuckled playfully, seemingly content to simply gaze at him, because, for what felt like more than enough for you, she did just that, remaining completely silent save for the occasional giggle escaping her lips, which you would have undoubtedly found adorable if her eyes weren’t so intensely fixed on his.

“I wish your lord father a speedy recovery, my lady.” You said with a smile, trying your best to remind yourself that not every woman he encountered had intentions of seduction, no matter how striking she was or how prettily her eyes sparkled in his presence.

“Thank you, my lady.” She flashed you a sweet smile before turning her attention back to the Commander. “Have you been playing competitively lately?”

“Not as much as I would like to.”

“We should fix that. It would be unfortunate if your skills were to dull.” She noted with concern. “How about arranging another match soon? Our first encounter was short-lived, but I assure you, I’ve been practicing almost every day with the sole purpose of outsmarting you next time.” She threatened playfully, too playfully for your liking.

“I must admit the thought does concern me, my lady, especially considering how close it came to happening last time.” The Commander replied politely, confirming Leon’s praises about Lady Angelika’s prowess on the chessboard.

“How about a rematch after you accompany us for dinner tonight?” She proposed unexpectedly. “Father mentioned that you declined our invitation for lunch last time, yet as a member of the Wald family, it is my duty to insist, although I suspect I already know the answer.”

The Wald family?

‘I was hoping we could become family someday, Erwin.’

Your eyes shifted to the sparkly diamonds on her brooch, your heart surging abruptly when you finally understood what the ‘W’ stood for.

‘You left quite the impression on my youngest.’

So Lady Angelika was Lord Wald’s youngest. No, she definitely didn’t take after her father.

“Your deductions are as frighteningly sharp in real life as they are in the game, my lady.” The Commander replied, his polite refusal providing an unexpected sense of relief within you. So calming and relieving that you almost felt guilty about it. Almost. “I fear that after today's reception, my fatigue won’t allow me to be good company at another.”

Indeed, Lady Angelika would have to find someone else to outsmart, since he would undoubtedly be too exhausted to play with her, especially after dancing with you; your favorite song beginning to play in the background acting as a convenient cue for you to selfishly whisk him away.

But it seemed Lady Angelika had interpreted the same signal as you, because just as you were about to reach for his hand, she beat you to it. And you would have said something, had your body not betrayed you, freezing in place at the audacity displayed before you.

“If you are going to decline my invitation to dinner, you are morally obliged to at least indulge me in the pleasure of this dance.” Lady Angelika insisted with a cheeky smile, her grip on the Commander's hand firm as she took a step towards the dance floor.

And listen, you did say earlier that you hated to be like this, petty and insecure, but goodness… you had to admit that sometimes life gave you enough reasons.

As you watched her alluring figure try to lure him onto the dance floor, you couldn’t help but acknowledge the validity of your insecurities. You couldn’t blame yourself for fearing that someone might one day come and steal him away, whether it be Marie Dok, Angelika Wald, or some other beauty. After all, what were you to him at the end of the day? What claim could you assert on his heart when you weren’t even certain of your place in it? At least Nile Dok, if ever feeling insecure, could find solace in the certainty provided by their marital bond. Marie Dok had chosen him. But you and the Commander… well, he had never professed love for you, or any of his feelings for that matter. You were just his assistant. Simply someone he slept with whenever you managed to seduce him, or whenever he felt like.

Still a better claim than Angelika Wald’s though.

“My lady.” You called with resolve, briefly locking eyes with your mother, whose face you had unexpectedly spotted from the other side of the courtyard. “I apologize for any disappointment, but…” You smiled politely, sending an acknowledging nod her way as you took a step forward. “I’m afraid this happens to be my favorite song as well.” You announced, seizing the Commander’s hand, which she had conveniently dropped by this point, in yours.

You didn’t look back to check on her when you entered the dance floor. She would be fine. You didn’t know of anyone with her expressive eyes, pearly smile and innate charm, who had any difficulties finding a partner to dance with. In no time, she would be swaying to her favorite song with some handsome man. Just not yours.

You’d have to start allowing yourself some selfishness from time to time. It was healthy in moderation. How’d you know? Because you hadn’t felt this burst of confidence in a while. You realized as you turned around to face him once you reached the center of the dance floor, smiling as his arm found its way around your waist, claiming you possessively in front of all present.

“You promised there would be no fair ladies waiting for you to lead them onto the dance floor.” Your lips curved mischievously, relishing the sensation of his broad shoulders under your palms. “Tell me, what would have become of poor you if I wasn’t here?”

He smirked distractingly, prompting you to grip his firm muscles tighter, just in case your legs gave in.

“I am lucky that you chose to join me, then.” He remarked, to which you simply rolled your eyes, smiling wide as you realized that, despite earlier hurdles, the day was finally beginning to resemble the one you had envisioned.

“Erwin.” You called hesitantly, reminding yourself that he had every right to decline, and that doing so wouldn’t necessarily reflect anything about your relationship. “My parents wish to meet you. I was wondering if- is there any chance that-”

“I would love to.” He replied with a smile, not giving leeway for doubt to set in within you.

“Thanks.” You said, releasing a small sigh of relief as you finally got to nestle your head on his chest. All that remained was to enjoy the moment, to let the gentle sway of your bodies soothe everything inside you, to let his comforting scent slowly persuade you to confide in him, about your insecurities. These were your fears to conquer, yes, but you needed him, you needed his warmth, his stability to be your safe harbor amidst the storm. And while you weren’t sure whether it was unfair or too much to ask, you hoped it wasn’t.

“I need to tell you something.” You announced, closing your eyes, knowing that you could trust him to remind you later. You would share all those secrets with him, but not now, favorite songs were meant to be enjoyed without interruptions, after all.

"I know." He whispered, drawing you closer against his chest, his heartbeat as relaxing as the ballads the band was playing.

-

next chapter

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[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[zamoimagines]

New Girl in Town

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 2,475

Tags: Cordelia x Reader, pure sapphic fluff, fem!reader

Summary: You moved out of state for a change of scenery, but you figured all you'd find was comfort in a new life far away from your old one. You never expected that you'd fall in love... Let alone with your neighbor that lived directly across the street from you.

A/N: This is a cute fluffy series I've been wanting to start for a while. It's been a hot minute since I've written a fic, so I hope I'm not too rusty. Hope ya'll like it <3

The rays of the morning sun pooled in from your bedroom window as the light seemed to touch every surface of your home. You stirred very gently, though when you realized what was waking you up, you smiled a little to yourself as you remembered exactly where you were.

It had always been your dream to get away from your roots and experience living somewhere completely different. Everyone you’d ever known in your hometown ended up stuck there, and you had always vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t end up the same way. Luckily for you, your dreams had become reality when the sudden opportunity to move clear out to Louisiana opened up to you. You jumped on it as quickly as you could. Before you knew it, you were moving out a week later and all of your belongings were completely settled in your new home.

Not that the house was new; On the contrary, it was a bit run down, as most historical homes in this area seemed to be. It wasn���t perfect, but it was yours. That was all that truly mattered to you.

When you had moved into town, the locals had asked you where you resided. You told them right across from the girl’s academy, and to your surprise, nearly everyone you’d met had given you a look of terror.

“You live there?! Don’t you know how dangerous that is!” One of the seniors had told you.

Another man had said, “Those girls practice devil worship! It’s unholy- Are you crazy?!”

“I heard that one of the girls set fire to the house next door. And one of the others killed an entire bus full of innocent college boys. It’s not safe there!” A local mother had said. All of their accounts seemed so far from reality that all you could do was smile, nod, and thank each person for their concern. You weren’t necessarily religious, so an eclectic all girl’s academy didn’t scare you at all. Until proven otherwise, it was just a school and you were just the woman that lived across the street.

 You finally sat up in bed and stretched your arms upward, yawning and trying to regain consciousness. The move had taken much more out of you than expected. It was a good thing that you didn’t have any plans today considering your mind was a little foggy and your muscles felt completely worn out. Once you felt somewhat like a person again, you swung your feet out from your mattress and stood up to put on something comfortable for the day. Nowhere to go, nowhere to be. The only thing you’d really been sure about was that you needed coffee to function.

 “Mm… Coffee.” You muttered groggily to yourself, echoing your own sleepy thoughts.

 You took your time in the kitchen making a perfect cup before making your way out to your porch. As you sat down in one of the rocking chairs, the warm summer breeze gently brushed your face. You could smell all the flowers in bloom and a family of sparrows chirped happily from overhead. Taking a sip from your drink, you hummed gently to yourself as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment to enjoy this time with yourself. This place was like your own little slice of heaven.

 “Mallory! Wait up, girlfriend!” A shrill, unfamiliar voice cut through your morning like a sharp knife. It was strange that it sounded as if the owner of that voice was getting closer and closer to where you were sitting. When you opened your eyes, you noticed two girls approaching your home.

 “Mallory- You are walking so fast right now! How do your tiny feet do that?!” That same shrill voice said again. It was coming from a blonde woman who was slightly taller than the other. Her friend, Mallory, had slightly darker hair yet both were wearing all black. They almost looked like they were getting ready to go to a funeral.

 “Cordelia is gonna be so pissed if she finds out we’re late to classes.”

 “Since when do you care about being late?” Mallory asked. Her tone was much softer, warmer, even.

 “Well- I… Fair point.” The blonde seemed to shut up for a moment after that. They seemed to know each other well enough to call each other out. 

Mallory stopped at the first step to your porch and put on her best smile. She was beaming from ear to ear, and her friend seemed to smile much more awkwardly from behind her.

“Good morning!”

“Uh… Hi. Morning.” You said, trying to be polite but also caught off guard. You wanted to ask them both what they were doing on your property, but they seemed nice enough that they didn’t mean any potential harm.

 “We live across the street! I’m Mallory, and this is my friend, Coco.”

“Sorry to bother you this early in the morning. You looked like you were having your Eat, Pray, Love moment and I told this one to leave you alone.” Coco replied with a small wave.

Before you could get a word in, Mallory cut in, “We both go to Robicheaux’s. There hasn’t been a new neighbor in a really long time from what the other girls said, let alone one that lives right across the street! So, we figured we’d come to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“We who?” Coco chimed out, “Let’s be clear, this was all her doing. I had no personal investment in this.”

You chuckled lightly at their banter, and it only made you grin even wider. At that moment, you thought about all those people that had told you troublesome girls attended that place and they were all up to no good. Right now, all you could see were two adorable nerds trying to make a kind gesture.

“You aren’t bothering me at all,” You began, “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Y/N. You can sit down if you’d like.” 

“We really shouldn’t-“ Coco tried to say,

“We’d love to!” Mallory cut her off yet again as she made her way up onto your porch. The younger girl sat on the ledge while Coco took the chair next to you. As you opened up the conversation, the both of them explained that they’d been attending the school for a year and that everyone was lovely there despite the aspersions spread across town. They spoke of other girls they went to school with, of what was expected of them, and little anecdotes about their time there, though they never explained exactly what they were studying for. 

“Today’s our first day back in session, actually,” Coco explained, “We live at Robie C’s on the off seasons too. A couple of us have become like a chic all girls family like that, which is pretty cool considering we’re all sort of outcasts where we’re all from.” 

“I know the feeling. I’m so glad you all have each other.” You replied with a warm smile. 

“We’ve talked so much about ourselves. Tell us about you!” Mallory suggested excitedly.

“Yeah, spill it. Why’d you come to New Orleans out of the blue?” Coco urged just as much. You laughed lightly at how intrigued they were, but you caved anyway and started to explain yourself. 

“Well, I’m actually from (y/h/t). I was born and raised there, but I never really loved it. I wanted something new and something out of the ordinary since I was kind of an outcast myself back there. My real estate agent called up about an opportunity one day about a month ago, and I hopped on it the second it was offered to me and… Here I am.” 

“Good for you for paving your own way. That is so big dick energy of you!” Coco complimented as she clapped her hands together in applause. Mallory clapped along with her as if to agree while all three of you laughed together about the wording. Though, Coco seemed to stop smiling altogether when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. “Shit-” She hissed under her breath. You were confused as to why there was such a sudden change of tone, so you looked in the direction she’d glanced in. 

Two new women were approaching your porch; One that looked closer in age to the girls in your company, and one who appeared to be slightly older than all of them. You couldn’t quite make them out yet, but they were very clearly getting closer. “What did I say? I knew this was gonna happen!”

“Surely she’s not gonna be that mad-” Mallory tried to reason with her companion. You were still completely out of the loop so you asked, “Wait- Who’s gonna be mad?” 

“Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt! Mallory Montgomery! What have I told you both about running off during Admissions Day?” The older woman said, staying at the edge of the porch. You still couldn’t catch a good glimpse of her quite yet, and it was even harder to see now that Coco had gotten up to block your view. “Ms. Goode, I had no part in this! It was all Mallory this time, I swear!” 

“Way to throw your sister under the bus, Coco.” The other girl that accompanied the alleged ‘Ms. Goode’ retorted with a small smirk. She had straighter, darker blonde hair and a very kind smile. 

“You have to believe me, Zoe! I was trying to do the right thing this time, I swear-” 

“She’s right,” Mallory chimed in as she stood as well now, “It was my idea. I just wanted to welcome our new neighbor, that’s all. We were going to come right back.” Coco and Mallory both left the porch to go stand alongside their peers, and as they did so, you followed slightly behind because you were curious now. “Mallory, sweetie, that was a very kind gesture but please inform an instructor next time so we know where you are. This is the most important day of the year for the academy and you know that- Oh…” 

The headmistress seemed to trail off when she saw you, and you felt much the same when you’d finally gotten to see her. Ms. Goode was so stunning that you were sure your heart was going to fly out of her chest. She had such a gentleness about her; Her golden curls rested softly against the frame of her pretty face and her deep brown eyes seemed to glitter when she gazed back at you. She was dressed in a floral, knee length dress that flowed freely around her form which seemed so different from what a normal boarding school head would wear. The look of concern she’d had completely melted away as she gave you the sweetest smile you’d ever seen before. It was a good thing that you’d been holding onto the railing of your porch considering that her very presence was making your knees weak. 

“My apologies. I hope my girls haven’t disturbed your morning.” She addressed you with such a melodic tone. 

“Wha- Oh! No, no, they’re fine. It was actually a nice surprise to have some visitors, and such polite ones, at that.” You assured her. 

Coco, Mallory, and Zoe were all glancing at each other now with matching smirks as they watched you interact with their teacher. 

“I’m relieved,” Ms. Goode said as she placed a hand on her chest, sighing as if a weight had been lifted from her, “Not many people are as kind to us here, so thank you for allowing them to your home.” 

“Really, it’s no big deal,” You insisted, “You all are welcome here anytime. I’m just happy I have friendly neighbors.” 

“I could say much of the same.” Ms. Goode replied. She was gazing at you with such warmth that you were sure you could get lost in her presence for hours. It was as if she couldn’t look away, her smile softening the longer you both stared back at each other and neither one of you wanted to let go of this just yet. You’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her in your entire lifetime and even though you didn’t know it yet, she was thinking the exact same thing about you. 

“I uh- I don’t think I caught your name.” You said, cutting through the arising tension that was now hanging thick in the air. The older woman’s eyes lit up as she sort of laughed at herself. “Oh! Where are my manners- I’m Cordelia Goode, Headmistress at Robicheaux’s Girls Academy. And you are?” 

“Y/N- Y/N Y/L/N.” As you introduced yourself, Cordelia took your hand and shook it very gently, though she didn’t seem to let go right away. She held it there as her thumb caressed over your skin as if to relish the physical connection she got to have with you in this moment. 

“What a lovely name.” She said fondly. There was a sort of dreaminess in her voice that had you in some sort of trance, but the sound of giggling girls cut through that. It seemed to have caught Cordelia off guard just as much as she took her hand away. “I’m afraid I must get my girls back to the academy. Classes will be starting soon, but perhaps we will see each other again soon.” 

“Sure thing. You know where to find me.” 

Cordelia seemed to chuckle lightly and when you heard such a pretty sound, you realized how much her presence just seemed to shine a light on your whole morning. You hated to watch her walk away from you. There were so many things you wanted to say, to ask, to do just for her, and yet all you could do was stand there and politely wave goodbye. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Goode!” You called out as they all moved further from your porch. The headmistress glanced back in your direction and gave you the brightest smile. 

“It was very nice to meet you as well, Ms. Y/L/N.” She called right back. Your name rolled right off her tongue and you swore that when she spoke it, everything felt right in the world. 

Maybe the people in town were right. Perhaps that building across the street really was a school for witches. Maybe they’d come over just to put a spell on you with their magical powers. Or, maybe they were just normal women trying to be polite to the new girl in town and all of the rumors were the rambling dramatizations of paranoid, closed minded people. There was really only one thing on your mind now, and you knew that it was absolutely certain; 

You couldn’t wait to see Cordelia Goode again. FIND MORE GAY SHIT HERE

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - Freedom of the road

It was a really lovely day in May. Joe almost didn't mind waiting for his colleague in the warm sunshine of the parking lot with birds singing and flowers blooming in fields of green grass in the nearby park. The only trouble was, that he would have preferred spending his Sunday another way, perhaps walking a bit in the park or sitting in his garden. Instead, it was the culmination of a most stressful week at the accounting company Joe worked at. There were several large statements due for Monday, and Joe and his colleague Terry didn't see any other way of getting it done but working an extra shift on Sunday.

Finally, Terry arrived in his small car.

"Sorry", he said. "Traffic was really bad. The moment the sun comes out, all the streets are full of bikers."

The way Terry said that left no doubt on what his thoughts about the aforementioned group of traffic participants was.

Terry was a short man with some extra pounds while Joe was long and thin. Both wore glasses and looked like the stereotypical accounts they were.

"No worries, we have the whole day", Joe said sarcastically and sighed. "Let's get started."

Joe and Terry entered the office building and made their way to the elevator. As Joe was about to exit the elevator behind Terry, he saw something glittering on the floor. As he reached down to pick it up, he saw a small coin. Neat. He would have to clean it properly at home, perhaps it was valuable. Joe put it carefully in his wallet and didn't notice it disappeared once he closed the wallet again.

"Are you coming?" he heard Terry calling and hurried up to the door to their office Terry was holding open.

The first few hours, the work was rather uneventful with files piling up on both desks. However, as the morning progressed, Joe was feeling more and more unrest.

"Do you mind if I put on some music?", he asked his coworker.

"No problem", answered Terry who was looking at his computer screen.

It took Joe some time to find something he liked. Normally, he was a big fan of classical music, but today, it seemed too boring. Finally, he settled on some 90s and 80s rock music. Not his usual taste, but a good fit for the day, he decided.

It made things somewhat better, but he couldn't concentrate on his work well. He found himself browsing the web instead, visiting some meme sites, reading news, and so on. Besides boredom, there was another problem he had. Ever since they started working, he was feeling increasingly horny today. That was rather unusual, as he usually had his needs well under control, but today it was especially bad.

His browsing changed to looking at pictures of girls online. That helped for a while, but over time, the pictures did less and less for him. He switched to scantily clad ones and finally to full front NSFW porn, but it was no use. It was like he was looking for something these girls just couldn't give him. His gaze wandered to the window, and he looked to the sun-kissed world outside.

"You know, I'm going to take a break. Get outside for a bit and see the sun." Joe finally said.

"Sure thing", replied Terry without taking his eyes off the screen.

Joe got up and walked towards the door. He felt strangely empty inside when he stepped out into the sunlight. It was like this place was sucking away all his energy.

He was surprised when Terry joined him on his way out.

"Are you coming with me? I thought you didn't believe in taking walks." Joe said.

"I don't, but I do need some fresh air occasionally", Terry answered with a smirk.

Joe shrugged and followed his colleague out of the building. They crossed the road together and went through a small park where they sat down on one of the benches to enjoy the weather. Joe was very self-conscious because of his boner that just wouldn't go away on his own.

As he looked over to Terry however, he noticed that the other man seemed to have a very similar problem. His pants were tented, and he tried to casually readjust himself without Joe noticing. For some reason that excited Joe more than the pictures of girls he looked at for the last hour. It might be the spring fever, but he really wanted to see what was under these pants of Terrys.

"What's wrong?", Joe asked suddenly.

Terry froze for a moment before answering: "Nothing, why?"

"You seem nervous or something. Is everything okay?" Joe pressed.

"Yeah... Yeah it is", Terry answered hesitantly. "I'm just a little tired from yesterday's work."

"That's not what I meant...", Joe continued, but stopped when he saw Terry pull down his zipper. The sight of his coworker's cock caused his own dick to twitch painfully in his pants. "Oh my god!", Joe exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just so horny today!" Terry exclaimed. A drop of pre was forming on the tip of his cock.

"It's just that you're so hot today!" Terry continued. "I've been watching you all morning and I can't stop thinking about your body."

Joe wasn't gay - at least that's what he thought - but he felt really excited by the sight. He looked around and finally saw some dense bushes at the edge of the neighboring parking lot and pointed at them. "Let's go over there", he suggested, rubbing over his own bulge.

Terry agreed and followed him to the bushes, pulling down his zipper as he walked. Once they reached the shrubs, Joe pushed him against one of them and kissed him passionately. He could feel Terry's hardening cock pressing into his belly as they made out.

"Oh God, Joe.", Terry panted. "Do you think you could... you know...", he was interrupted by a needy moan escaping his lips.

Joe smiled and pulled away from Terry's mouth, looking him straight in the eyes. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes!" Terry almost shouted and grabbed Joe's waistband.

Joe let him get a hold of his belt buckle and unbuttoned his trousers. As soon as they were open, Terry took both sides of the material in hand and tugged them down to Joe's ankles, freeing his member. It was already fully erect and dripping with precum.

Joe barely noticed that his cock was way larger than he was used to. He roughly spun Terry around and pulled down the other man’s pants as well, exposing his asshole. Then he pushed his cock head against it, teasingly rubbing it along Terrys hole.

"Oh please! Please fuck me!", Terry begged, pushing back onto Joe's cock.

Joe pushed harder until finally he felt his cockhead pop inside Terrys ass. Terry moaned and leaned forward. His back seemed to stretch as he did, getting just a bit larger.

Joe started thrusting slowly at first, enjoying the feeling of being deep inside another man for the first time. With each thrust, some detail about the both of them changed: Joe slowly developed muscles all over his body. Where his body had been a beanpole before, definition and mass began to grow in.

While this was certainly impressive, Terry's changes were even more drastic. His skin darkened with each thrust, until it became black. Not black as in a dark-skinned person black, but really midnight-black. His body hardened, some regions more so than others. It felt amazing for Terry, as he watched his torso expanding and hardening to cold metal. Tubes and pipes formed through his entire body, as he leaned forward even more, now touching the ground with his outstretched hands.

Meanwhile, Joe increased the pace. He was completely enthralled by the sensation of his cock going in and out the leathery black ass of the other man that be barely noticed chest hair growing in on his muscular chest. His shoulders widened and he felt powerful and manly. A dense but short beard grew in, and his face became squarer and masculine.

Terry felt his arms and legs become fixated to each other and saw tires growing in between them. He felt energetic and powerful, too, but in an entirely different kind. It was clear that he was nothing more than a tool, a thing to serve a real men. But he was a powerful tool, freedom incarnate. He could go as fast as the wind and still made his owner look manly and sexy.

Joe let out a loud groan as his last powerful strokes sent him over the edge and he came all over his bike, just as a rough chain necklace formed around his neck. Of course, he immediately wiped the black leather clean again. After all, his bike was his most prized possession, no stains or dirt allowed. Sometimes it just overcame him, and he got so turned on by his own body and bike that he just needed release. And when there was no willing twink nearby, he just needed to stop at some parking lot and rub one out.

He looked over to the office building nearby and grinned. He really couldn't imagine working in one of those blocks as an office drone. He was enjoying the freedom of the road way too much, even though he barely had any money.

He got on his bike again and started up the engine which roared to life. Perhaps he should give his bike a name at some point. But then again, even if he loved it to no end, it was, after all, just a thing, and things had no name.

What a great pair! If you want to read more stories in the same format, be sure to have a look at my other ones!

[imjulia-andilikecats]

A Longer Response to @rainstorms-moonrivers

It is unusual to see an account address criticism on their previous post and I thank you for evaluating our response to that.

Firstly, your initial post was strongly worded. I could sense that you deeply empathized with Maven, given his unfortunate upbringing and ending. Couple with how his character was handle in War Storm, I can't fault you on seeking justice for the tragic end of a character you are really fond of.

However, when you start pointing at characters that are victims of his mother and expecting them to help Maven, that's where we start to have a disagreement.

In your initial post, you listed Elara, Julian, and Anabel as the true villains in Red Queen. Putting emphasis on Julian and Anabel's contribution to Maven's abuse. Framing it in a way that these two are somewhat worse for not being called out on how they treated Maven. While Elara is being called out left and right, and seen as the main perpetrator of Maven's abuse.

I do agree that abuse is complicated. However in this setting, the story and the way the power structure is framed. Elara, with her whispers, abused Maven and molded him into whatever she wanted/needed. While doing so, it is a common practice for abusers to completely isolate their victims from anyone who could help them.

This includes Julian. In your response post, you expressed that Julian and Maven could have at least had a good/decent relationship. Given Maven was not yet born when Coriane died and Sara got her tongue removed for speaking up about her friend. It would be unfair and unreasonable even for Julian to extend his cold demeanor towards Elara's son. Even telling Mare that "He is his mother's son." However, this statement from Julian was not rooted in anger or spite. He was warning Mare and expressing caution. Because when he said that, Maven was 17 years old and a few months away from betraying Mare and usurping Cal's throne.

I do agree that Julian is familiar with Elara's powers. Decades before Mare's arrival. Elara has always schemed and killed her way to the throne. The moment Coriane walked down the aisle and Elara made her trip, that's where her terror began. Julian witnessed Elara's rise to power, taking over the operation within the palace and forming strong alliances with certain houses. He knew facing Elara head-on would mean death or her harming those he held dear. Like Sara, since after her tongue got cut off and branded a liar who spoke ill of the late Queen Coriane. Instead of exiling her from court, she kept her around to be ridiculed and reduced to a shadow of once a bright and skilled healer. Cal, his nephew and heir to the throne, is bound to follow his father's wishes, and his existence is greatly unwelcome by Elara. Both he dearly loves and the only ones keeping him from leaving the palace and openly opposing Elara. So he had no choice but to resign himself as a passive librarian who spends most of his time with books than with people.

Note: Also, apologies for a longer response to your long response and having it posted in a separate post. I do not want this message to be hidden in the comments or reblogs because I have seen a noticeable amount of people here have a similar take on Julian, that he should have helped Maven and he is horrible for not doing anything for him.

This, to me, is a very unfair, simplified, and wholely wrong take on his character since Julian is not just some side character that is related to Cal, who dislikes Elara and Maven. All I ask is for the fandom to at least view Julian Jacos as his own character who experienced tragedies and suffered injustices most of his life yet still extended his kindness to those he believed would bring hope and change in their world, not some spiteful librarian who bullied a teenager.

Credits to: @nymphenberger for helping me compose this response and sharing good points.

[britt-kageryuu]

Donnie is doing a little Q&A just nothing about his wip game. He's slowly spinning in his gamer chair model dressed in his oversized purple hoodie, black tech pants, his mask with charms, and boots. Chat is allowed to enter questions, but there's a somewhat strict filter in place. Shelldon is reading them off, but they're also showing up on a prompter.

[Who came up with the idea for you guys to be VTubers?]

"Well to tell you the truth, this isn't my first time being a Youtuber. My old account was private because looking back some of those videos were pretty cringey. Anywho on my and Blues birthday Mandarin gave me the idea to restart as a VTuber. If only because it was a something we could both work on." Donnie stops to bring up a set of images. "These are the prototype models that Mandarin had put together. We worked together to rework them to be usable with some programs I started to make for our custom setups."

[Does this mean Mandarin is the models Momma?]

Donnie reread the question before searching what that meant. Once he found it, his model got an odd look. "Okay, I now know in the VTuber lingo a Momma is the artist who makes the model, and the 'Daddy' is the one who does the rigging. Please do not refer to me and Mandarin as the Models Mom and Dad, Please." His model shudders, and he shakes his head. "That is not really a thought I want in my mind since we are infact Siblings. That just sounds very weird."

[Do you have an Oshi? Are you a fan of other VTubers?]

Donnie returns to spinning in his chair as he answers, "I am sorry to inform you that I haven't followed any other VTubers. There is no real reason as to why. I just haven't given myself time to look into other VTubers, since I have quite a bit of work to do outside of GB, and being on camera for you guys."

[Happy Pride! Do you have any labels?]

Donnie stops spinning, "Are you new here? If so welcome, if not, how have you missed some of these details? And yes, Happy Pride." Donnie then toggles on a set of pride pins onto his oversized hoodie. "I am Nonbinary, but don't mind masculine pronouns used for me. I am also Asexual, and fairly DemiRomantic. Before you ask, the others can tell you themselves, so don't ask." Back to spin~~

[You guys ever going to a convention?]

"Oh, well we have gone to some conventions recently, just not as our VTurtles! group. We went to a few that had alot of Sci-Fi focus, and had some of our favorite actors as guests of honor." There is now a large amount of spam in the chat. What's, where's and when's all around.

"Well, like Blue said before. If we told you we'd be there, you might try to track us down. We have talked about sending out messages the next time we go to a Con and leave special stuff for you guys to find, but we want to get some permission to do this at a Con before we accidentally get banned." This caused another wave of chaos in the chat, and alot of anticipation.

"Hey Dad, Uncle Mandarin wants you give you a heads up, he's bringing you a bento since you missed lunch." Shelldon announces.

Donnie stops spinning, and looks at the time, "Well, I guess we'll have to change things up a bit. I don't want to be eating on stream, so let me see if I can switch off with someone for a few minutes." He quickly types up a message, and mutes his mic. Not to forget he closes the question submissions.

There is a slight pause when Mikey leans into frame with a purple bento box in hand, and the stream was put into the BRB screen.

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

Masterpost

[moresassythanclassy]

Opinion: I really liked the Danbury/Ledger storyline. Here’s why.

Apologies in advance for this long take.

First, let me say that I don’t think I’ve ever felt more morally conflicted than I have while watching a pairing engaging in an affair. Actually, the first time I watched, I was cringing as they started growing closer and would point at the tv and say “Stop. It.” every time they came on.

But then I went back and watched their scenes again, and things changed a bit for me. And while I’m certainly not trying to justify an extramarital affair, I do feel like I now understand and even sympathize with them more than I thought I would have.

I suppose this whole situation just reminds me of how different their world truly was back then, where women were treated as property and the only things that really mattered were achieving/maintaining wealth and status. Lady Danbury was, by definition, a slave to her husband. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that must’ve been like. She was probably married by 18—a young, beautiful woman with what could’ve been a full life ahead of her, forced to marry a man many decades her senior, who used and abused her whenever he pleased, with no true regard for her thoughts or feelings.

And Lord Ledger, while having so many more freedoms as a man, still clearly felt trapped in a marriage he was likely coerced into as well. (I will add that I truly resented the fact that they made Lady Ledger an unlikable person seemingly to justify the affair in a way—it doesn’t. But, since this was the material we were given, I’m still going to entertain it.) Ledger and his wife were obviously indifferent toward one another—they may have even loathed each other. In fact, as we learn more about him, his sense of humor and love for his daughter were the only things it seemed truly kept him going in life. But then he meets Agatha, and things begin to change.

*Side note: I feel like it’s worth mentioning that I believe they chose to change Danbury’s storyline from s2 Bridgerton significantly for QC, because Danbury’s conversation with Kate made it seem to me as though she’d actually somewhat cared for or even loved her husband. This is why her words don’t exactly seem consistent from s2 Bridgerton to QC if it is true that Danbury was referring to Ledger this whole time.

You may disagree with me completely, but I do feel like Danbury and Ledger truly did love each other, even if their relationship was brief. Now, the kind of love they felt may have been different than how we know it to be today, but for what little they truly knew about the concept of romantic love, they certainly experienced it in some way. Not only did Danbury keep the birthday hat he made for her, she even had her staff take her out to the fields in the middle of winter just to stand there and stare at their old meetup spot—and this had been 50 years on.

I personally buy that Danbury fell in love with Ledger for multiple reasons, the main one being that he was the first man to genuinely treat her with dignity and respect—the first man to truly take the time to listen to her, to take her thoughts and feelings into account and appreciate her for who she was. Ledger, at the same time, probably never experienced a friendship like this with a woman—one where he could actually say what he felt without fear of being judged. And for these reasons, I am glad that they found this friendship in each other.

But then, add in the fact that they were actually attracted to one another, and things were bound to change. When Agatha laments how all she has to live for now is mourning, embroidery, and tea with other widows, Ledger seems struck with the urge to ensure she knows that he is there for her, and that he cares—and cares deeply. At this point in her life, Agatha doesn’t seem to give much regard to the sanctity of marriage (and who can blame her?) so it’s no surprise that she’s the one who feels little to no guilt whenever they almost kiss and is disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Ledger, meanwhile, knows that what he almost did is wrong, and abruptly leaves.

The thing is, they clearly should’ve left it at that. Once they knew it would be so easy to cross this line together, they knew things could never be the same. Danbury, again, really didn’t seem to care—all she knew was that, for the first time in her life, she was actually, truly happy. But even then, she didn’t attempt to force herself on him. Ledger should’ve been the one to stop it, but instead, he deliberately made the choice to make the birthday hat and deliver it to her house when (miraculously) no one else was home, and then, as we know, things progressed from there.

I really am glad for them both that they finally got to experience what sexual joy truly felt like, but it unfortunately came at a cost. Ledger realized the error of his ways, and even though he still loved Agatha, he chose to do what was best for his daughter and what he thought was best for Agatha. And poor Agatha, despite being a bit heartbroken, understood and accepted it.

The truly heartbreaking thing about all of this to me is that their love for each other was pure, but their circumstances and the resulting decisions they made were not. Maybe in another time, in another life, they could’ve been happy together. Sadly, though, this relationship was always going to fail before it could really even get off the ground.

Yet still, in all the time that passed, Danbury never once seemed to regret it. Do I wish she'd fallen in love with someone actually available? Absolutely, but that just wasn't the way it happened, at least not with her first love. I do hope that, after all this time, Ledger wasn’t the only one—she deserved to know what it felt like to be loved by someone who could love her that way. If it never happened for her, though, and Ledger really was the only one, maybe that’s actually alright? If that one experience was enough to sustain her and help her to continue to find peace and happiness all these years later, then maybe it was enough.

For all of these reasons, this is why I found their storyline to be intriguing and fairly thought-provoking. Again, you may fervently disagree, and you could be absolutely right, but I just wanted to share my two cents on how I felt about it. Props to you if you made it all the way through this.

TLDR: Their affair was wrong. Their love was not.