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cheesybadgers · 2 months

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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

------------------------------------------------------

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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voxofthevoid · 6 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by my one and only Jesus @eusuntgratie

I recently cleared out all the ask/tag games in my drafts because I realized I'd reached the pile-up stage of putting things in there and not doing shit. Thanks to everyone who's tagged me in those the last couple of months and sorry I didn't get to any!

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

148

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

2,005,606 (crossed the 2 million milestone recently and am still buzzing about it)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm only writing for Jujutsu Kaisen, but I'm posting for Jujutsu Kaisen, Bleach, and MCU.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I was so sure it was going to be all MCU, but nope, it's a mix of MCU and Hannibal. God, that was my first Ao3 fandom, and my Hannibal fics are from 2014. It's surreal people are still reading/enjoying them.

if you're looking for jesus (then get on your knees)—MCU

i'm a ghost, you're an angel (one and the same)—MCU

A darkness seen and shared—Hannibal

Ways and Means—Hannibal

the hand you want to hold is a weapon (and you're nothing but skin)—MCU

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I enjoy the interactions and discussions. Plus, since I'm not a Discord (or group spaces) person, it's how I find fellow fans to chat with, especially during my initial foray into a particular fandom. I do have a huge backlog of some 1.1k comments from 2020 to mid-2021 because I didn't have much time for fandom in that period. I'm chipping away at it slowly, but I'm pretty prompt about replying to everything on my post-2021 fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, this Hannibal fic, I'd say: Till the bitter end

Let's just say I predicted the series finale in some weird way.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of mine end happily—a few are ambiguous, while others are dark.

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Oh yeah. It's only happened with MCU and Jujutsu Kaisen, and they're mostly cases of overgrown children unhappy that I didn't write the ships or dynamics they want.

9. Do you write smut?

It's my specialty now 😎

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nah. I've done fusion-style AUs, but full-on crossovers aren't something I'd like to write. I'll read them, but I'm picky.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Multiple times (MCU and YoI, iirc), both within Ao3 and offsite.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Multiple times, for multiple fandoms! It's always a delight.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did write one(1) fic that way, but it got yeeted into the void when my co-author deleted her entire Ao3 account. I have a copy, I think.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm the kind of person who's most devoted to whatever is eating my brain at the time, so right now, it's Yuuji/Gojou from Jujutsu Kaisen.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but probably won’t?

My writing superpower is that if I lose interest in a WIP, I also lose all desire to finish it and any guilt about it. And these days, I tend to start a fic and work on just that till it's done. So the answer is—none.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I write some smokin' hot porn, and I'm pretty good at threading character study through it. The porn is the plot, in most cases. I also enjoy doing background worldbuilding that serves to give the narrative a sense of depth despite the focus being on characters and relationships.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fight scenes, ensemble casts, and sustained plotty plots.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Ah, I can feel my Hannibal-era Google-translate Lithuanian judging me.

In general, I avoid it, but when I write for anime set in Japan, I tend to work in honorifics. My mother tongue has those too, so I know from experience that there are no English equivalents that capture the same vibe.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Hunter x Hunter, I think. That account no longer exists. On Ao3, it's Hannibal.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I tend to be biased toward my newer works, so this keeps changing. At the moment, it's (let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered (JJK, goyuu).

Tagging (no pressure) 20 people because why the hell not: @possibleplatypus, @actualalligator, @joeys-piano, @cursedvibes, @backwardshirt, @m34gs, @naamah-beherit, @dragongirlg-fics, @crossroadswrite, @spacebuck, @jenroses, @calamitouskings, @knivash, @lo-55, @bookwyrmling, @sorrythatwasamistake, @ddelline, @lilyfarseer, @roughkiss and @deunan306

#...i think that's 20 #i am not counting again #tag game

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cellythefloshie · 1 year

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;; Treat You Right Chapter Fifteen of the Road Wife Series

Table of Contents 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Summary: The Tampa Bay Lighting take a quick single-game road trip to Dallas, and with your empty calendar you're finally able to address what happened between you and Tony. NOTE: Surprises bitches (I say endearingly)! I'm dropping this early. The boys need all the support I can give them today. So this will just have to do. Kinks & TW: sex work, dry humping, hickeys/marking, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, went pretty vanilla with this one, more feelings than we are used to. Word Count: 7700+

TAGLIST: @equallyshaw , @charles11700 , @starshine-hockey-girl , @swissboyhisch , @wingedwheelprxncess , @luvmmarner , @fandomrejects

The team remained in Tampa for only a brief time after their longest road trip of the season. They were granted five days at home, just long enough to play Nashville in a short series of two games where each team was left with a single win. Then the team took the skies again, arriving in Dallas for a single game. They had arrived mid-day after a brief 2-hour flight. The single-game road trip had almost been enough to have you staying behind in Tampa as the team had planned to fly home after the game, but when the team was forced to book rooms for the night at a Dallas hotel that had started to feel more like home than your own appointment you had packed your bags and met the team on the tarmac.

With the late landing giving you only a few hours before the game, your calendar was clear. Not a single appointment was on your calendar for the duration of the trip, and while it left you feeling they had wasted a seat on the plane on you, your company was always welcome. Especially as it came to be game time and you retired to the suite that looked over the rink. It was a box reserved for the Lightning organization, with enough seats for their social media team as well as the players that were scratched for the night. It wasn’t very often you enjoyed the company of the players during game time, the demands of keeping up appearances often consumed you. So you welcomed the opportunity to get to know those who were scratched or occupied the taxi squad. That night, Volcov, Alex Barre-Boulet, Gemel Smith, Luke Schenn, Andreas Borgman, Ben Thomas, and Chris Gibson occupied the suite. You sat among them with your laptop open on the table, casually working as the game played out below.

The first period was a quiet one. With the expedition of a single goal at 3:55 scored by Brayden Point, his 11th of the season was assisted by Palat and Cirelli. Not even a single penalty was called. It may have been one of the quickest periods of hockey you had watched.

The game really came to life in the second period as it was kicked off with an interference call against Palat. The Bolts were successful in the penalty kill, and minutes later the Stars themselves took a penalty for delay of game as they sent the puck over the glass. The Bolts were unsuccessful in their power play as well. It wasn’t long before the Stars tied the game with a goal of their own. A power-play goal was scored by Miro Heiskanan after Cal Foote had hooked Alexander Rudulov. It looked as if the game may go into the second intermission 1-1, but before the period could come to an end Mathieu Joseph had given the Bolts a 2-1 with assists from Maroon and Colton.

It left morale high and the taxi squad boys rowdy as they stood up from their seats to indulge themselves in refreshments and conversation - but they could only be entertained by themselves for so long.

Feeling an arm drape over the back of your chair you looked away from your computer screen and up to the player that was casually demanding your attention with the careful graze of his large hand against your back. You were greeted with the sweet smirk of Luke Schenn as his thumb traced circles around your back absentmindedly, “We’re going to head down to the locker room for the intermission, check in on the boys, hype them up for the third. Did you want to come?”

“You guys go on ahead, I’ve got to wrap some things up,” you assured him with a smile of your own.

“You work too hard,” he punctuated the sentence with your name, his hand stroking over the breadth of a single shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze, “we won’t be long.”

“I’ll be here,” you assured him and watched as the boys left, leaving you alone in the box suite. For a short time, you let yourself become enthralled by your screen. You made quick work of your task before you closed the laptop and tucked it away in its bag. Now, you could really enjoy the rest of your night. You abandoned the barstool-like chair that had been set at one of the cocktail tables and indulged in the mini bar and snacks that were left in the suite. You knew you really shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t let it go to waste. With refreshments in hand, you found a more comfortable seat along the edge of the suite. The comfort was welcome as you nearly melted into your seat. Your head leaned back against the seat, your eyes falling shut as you took in a heavy relaxed breath and took in the sounds that were as close as you were going to get to silence: the chatter of the fans in attendance and the entertainment played up on the jumbotron. And while it was loud, one thing was louder: the voice of a stranger.

“You’re new.”

Their words left you lurching in your seat, your drink spilling over your lap as you dropped it to reach for the armrest. Your heart thundered in your chest as you tried to recover your drink, putting it aside before you turned towards the source of the sound. In the doorway of the suite was none other than Tyler Seguin.

“And you’re lost,” you quipped from your seat and made no effort to make any formal introductions with your unexpected visitor.

Seguin had been on the Stars Injured Reserve list since the end of the 2020-2021 season having torn the labrum in his hip sometime during the playoff run - the playoffs that had the Bolts hoisting the cup for the first time since 2004. While Seguin had been very much out of the spotlight during his recovery, it didn’t seem to stop him from being there for his team off the ice. He stood in the doorway dressed in a burgundy suit that left you feeling underdressed even though you too were dressed in business attire. Your eyes were drawn to it, and how his blazar opened as she reached a hand up to brace himself against the top of the door frame. It left you to admire how his tie had become loose as the night had gone on, and his shirt was loose fitting as he had come to unbutton the one button that would have left it tight across his chest and his tie hung loose and lazily over his chest.

Tyler wasn’t dressed for business, that portion of his night had ended, and now he was looking to cause trouble and it had led him to you - but something told you that it wasn’t you that he had been looking for.

“I have to say, not many people complain when I walk into a room,” Tyler was charming and witty as he left the doorway and made his way into the suite. He grazed over the refreshments, picking up a sweet snack for himself on his way to the row of seats you occupied, more specifically the seat right beside you. “The last girl, Ella, she was much more welcoming…”

Ella. The slip of the woman’s name from his lips and repeated, echoed, haunted each of your thoughts as they raced through your mind. Not once before had you heard this time, and yet it made your skin crawl. Your mind spirals further when you let yourself really hear what Seguin had just said. The last girl. When you joined the media team, you had been filling a void, one that had been vacated at the end of the 2018-2019 season. Surely, Seguin was referring to the young woman who once worked for the media team - but one thought did not leave you: Had Ella been the first wife?

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you could hear it up into your ears as you reached down to grip the armrest tightly. Against your fingers, you could feel the warmth of Seguin’s body as he made himself comfortable. He spread his legs so that he could slouch casually as if he had sat beside you many times before, and he went as far as to have his knee come to rest against your own. You shifted away at the touch, but it only left him smiling - and that smile only seemed to grow as he leaned closer to you as if he had something to say, but you didn’t let him speak, not yet.

“Don’t you have someone else you can entertain?” you bit out, and you felt the warmth of his laughter against your cheek.

“Just doing my rounds, it’s good publicity-”

“It’s good publicity to bother the visitor’s media team?” You challenged him, letting your gaze meet his for the first time since he had sat down. His features were uncomfortably close. Every breath that escaped him could be felt on your face, and you could see every detail of his face from the warmth of his eyes to the quirk of his smile that told you that this man was more trouble than you could allow. Seguin was easily one of the most sought-after men in the NHL, and you had his undelivered attention. It made you uncomfortable in all the best ways, and you hated it - and what you hated more was the fact that any other woman would have killed to be in your position.

“No this, this was just the last spot on my stop. A courtesy stop really, because it’s usually a group of boring men in here taking notes, wanting to ask too many questions - but the Bolts,” his low laughter punctuated his sentence as he dropped his voice into a low, alluring whisper, “they like to keep an attractive staff… I must say, you’re ever more pretty than the last one - though, she was a lot more fun.”

You held your breath as you felt Seguin's warmth encroach on you, his fit frame leaning in slightly over the armrest that divided you. Then came the touch of his hand on the collar of your shirt, tugging it away just enough for his thick fingers to drag over the sensitive mark on your neck that had been left there by Brayden during your flight to Detroit on the last road trip.

“Though, they seem to be having their fun with you…” his words sent a shiver down your spine as your suspicions seemed to be all but confirmed. Whoever Ella was, wife or not, Seguin had taken a liking to her. She was the reason he was in this booth, with his suit relaxed and oozing with charm. If it had been another time, another place, it might have worked on you - but you were loyal to the team, and part of the team was walking right back through the suite door.

“You seem to be lost, Seguin,” came Luke’s voice after the shuffling of footsteps.

It drew your eyes back to the taxi squad, the sight of them bringing you a moment of relief. You’d never been happier to see them and it brought a smile to your features. As you smiled, Tyler laughed. He was far from intimidated by the likes of them, and instead of retreating he was leaning in to whisper in your ear to confirm all of your suspicions. “If you find that you’re up for a little fun after you take care of your boys tonight, give me a call.”

Your smile faded as you felt his hand graze up against yours, his hot touch lingering for but a moment as he handed off a slip of paper to you. You didn’t need to look at it to know that his number was written across it. You balled it up in your fist, your gaze hardening as he stood up from his seat, satisfied. His message had been delivered, and with his unwanted audience, it was time for him to leave.

“Enjoy the rest of the game boys,” Tyler gave them a cocky wave on his way out the door, but the boys paid no mind to him.

The taxi squad had already turned all their attention to Luke, who lingered the closest to the doorway to make sure Seguin didn’t try to linger. He went as far as to look out into the hallway before looking back at his teammates, the clock that counted down the intermission, and at you before he was calling the shots.

“Volcov, Boulet - run downstairs, you’ve got a few before the period starts. Get the captain’s attention and let him know what happens,” the rush of words from his lips only fueled the feeling of urgency that bubbled in the depths of your stomach.

It had you pushing yourself out of your seat and crossing your arms over your chest nervously. Then, you approached Luke who was turning his back on Volkov and Barre-Boulet. and turning his attention to you, “Hey,” his words were softly spoken as he reached out with both hands to take hold of your arms carefully, “you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assured him, but your grip on the paper was growing tighter as you cast your glance downwards and spoke, “I tried to get him to leave…”

Your arms were left void of the heat of his touch as Luke reached up and took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His gentle hold tilted your head back, his guidance forcing you to look up at him as he towered over you. Luke had never been an intimidating guy, and that didn’t change as he looked down at you with nothing but reassurance in his eyes.

Your name slipped over his tongue as smooth as velvet then he spoke, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Someone should have been here-”

“You guys didn’t know he would be coming by, he’s on their long-term injured reserve…” As you spoke Luke traced his thumb along the angles of your chin and jaw slowly, his touch distracting as you tried to reassure him in return, “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“And he won’t be back,” Volkov cut in as he and Barre-Boulet returned to the suite.

“You guys reach the captain?” Luke hummed as he let his hands fall from the smooth skin of your features.

“He knows. The whole bench knows.”

“Good, that might just be the fire they needed to get through the game,” Luke nodded and moved to take his seat as the third period began behind him - but you didn’t let him get too far.

“Wait-” Your hand was quick to reach out for his, your careful hold transferring the slip of paper from your hold to his, “take this, I don’t want it.”

Luke took the slip from you, spreading out its wrinkles and its fold and taking in the sight of the numbers written in a messy scrawl. You had gripped it so tightly it threatened to rip under the stroke of his thumb, not that it would have mattered if it had as Luke was quick to dispose of it in the trash.

“You would think the man’s run out of women in Dallas if he’s gotta come in here and try to steal our girl,” Luke tries to put you at ease with a semblance of a joke, his arm coming to drape around your shoulders to guide you back to your seat. Together you sat with the rest of the taxi squad and watched as the third period unfolded on the ice below.

To start the period, it had been evenly matched with each team having their opportunities to get more points on the board - but the goaltenders were quick to snuff out any attempt. It was near halfway through the period when frustrations festered and the Bolts took a bench minor for too many men. It left you on the edge of your seat, your hand reaching out to squeeze Luke’s knee each time the Stars had a semblance of a scoring chance. You were put at ease when the boys pulled through and killed the penalty and later drew one from the Stars when Colton took a stick up high. It was on that power play the Bolts went up 3-1 with a goal from the Captain himself. He had heard the message back in the locker room and had sent one himself. They were determined to win.

The efforts, however, almost seemed for not as the Stars were quick to come back in the final three minutes of the game with goals from Benn and Rudalov. The 3-3 score going into overtime left a sinking feeling in your stomach. Each passing second filled you with anxiety. The boys needed to win. Not for the standings. Not because it was a rematch of the previous year's Stanley Cup Final, but because of the message they were trying to send.

Overtime wouldn’t be enough for the two teams that had become one of the season’s biggest rivalries, as after five minutes of play the score remained the same. The game would be sent to a shootout.

Your anxieties only grew as you stood up from your seat and leaned up against the edge of the suite. You couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the game, not when sitting still felt impossible. You watched as the ice was cleared and the players took their seats on the bench. One by one they would take the ice, and up first, Jason Robertson. He was their rookie, and a hell of a good one too, which is why it didn’t surprise you when the puck met the back of the net almost effortlessly. With that goal, your stomach sank, your gaze flashing towards the squad in your company as they watched from their seats as Tampa sent out their first skater.

“Ross?” You hadn’t meant to let his name slip from your lips at the sight of him down on the ice. You knew all too well that this was his first-ever shoot-out attempt with the team, and that in no way put you at ease. Cooper should have been sending out Pointer, Stamkos, or Killorn - the big guns when it came to your shoot-out, and yet Cooper was choosing to send out the rookie. No one would really know how he would make such an attempt, and with being as new to the league as he was the only players that would know his style of player were his teammates.

You found yourself holding your breath as Ross skated in from center ice. His movements were quick, smooth, and effortless and his puck too found the back of the net. There was no containing your excitement at that moment as you shot up and let out a cheer that you were sure could be heard down on the benches as the rest of the 3,000 in attendance had been rendered to silence.

The shootout would require three more shooters. First, the Stars sent out Pavelski whose shot would be saved. Then, the Bolts sent out Pointer whose shot would give the team the 2-1 advantage over the Stars going into who would be their final shooter. Rudalov would take the ice only to his a for his attempt to be snuffed out by Vasilevsky.

It was a game worth celebrating, and yet as the hour drew late in the comfort of your hotel room you did not receive a single notification. It left you sprawled out across the bed, expression perplexed, as you pulled up your calendar and scrolled through the hours. Not a single appointment was scheduled, not that you could blame them. The team would be on a flight home come morning and the players returned to their wives before noon.

Back during the lengthy 11-day road trip, that had you visiting 3 different cities, you wouldn’t have complained about getting to go to bed alone. Tonight, however, your mind threatened to spiral down the depths of the rabbit hole that was Ella, and you didn’t want to sleep alone.

Your fingers were quick to fall on your contacts, your thumb scrolling through the players in your phone who were merely identified by their jersey number. Lips curled up into a tired smile as your thumb selected contact #71 and typed out a quick message: You still up?

The mere appearance of the ellipses as he typed was enough to have you moving for your bag that rested untouched in the armchair by the door. You didn’t need to dig through it to find what you were looking for, Cirelli’s sweatshirt had been the last thing you packed leaving it resting on top. You had been meaning to get it back to him but hadn’t yet found the opportunity - until now. Pulling it on over your head, you moved out into the hallway, and with a quick glance down at your phone you knew which room was your destination.

You kept your head down as you moved through the hall, your strides quick and quiet as you snuck down the hall to Cirelli’s room. You didn’t have to knock when you arrived as Cirelli was waiting on the other side to ensure you weren’t waiting out in the hallway. While the two of you weren’t breaking any rules, you both acted with caution - especially since this was the first time you would be alone with him since the incident at the practice facility twenty days prior.

It was all you could think about at the sight of him as the hotel room door was shut behind you. Its lock engaging was a mere echo in your mind as your eyes became fixated on the grasp of his hands around the handle. You thought of his hands often, an invading thought of how they felt tracing along your body, holding you, guiding you, fucking you. You hesitated in the doorway, your mind a mess as your hands balled the end of the too-long sleeves in your fists in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. Even Tony’s words were lost on you, and it was the touch of his hand against your arm that pulled you back to reality.

“Everything okay?” Tony raised a brow, his large hand giving your tricep and careful squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m great actually,” you smiled up at him and directed your dazed stare up at his features. You must have caught him just before bed, his hair was a mess and he stood in nothing more than a pair of loose lounge pants. “My calendar is clear, and I was hoping that maybe we could watch a movie or something like we used to…”

Tony’s touch left you, his hand raising to card through his thick curls as he glanced back towards his bed and the tv, “you get comfy, I’ll get it all set up,” he smiled in return before taking his lazy strides towards the television, “what do you want to watch?”

“I’m not picky, really,” you assured him as you crawled up the length of his bed and settled yourself among the comfort of the pillows. You left them for but a moment to place your phone face down on the bedside table, but when you returned to their comfort you snuggled down into them. Your lips came to pout slightly when their scent was still reminiscent of the detergent used by the hotel and nothing like Tony's. It was one of the downsides of only being in the hotel for a single night.

“Then you’re getting a Netflix classic,” he smirked, putting on one of the platform's most popular comedy series. You were sure Tony had probably seen each of their episodes many times, but it would be the perfect background noise.

The bed shifted as Tony climbed into his spot beside you, and the two of you were quick to fall into old habits. His arm wrapped around you without a thought, its strength drawing you closer as the familiar jingle of the show filled the room. You could feel his thumb stroking over its familiar path along the length of your arm that was concealed by his sweater and as you snuggled a little bit closer you could feel his every breath. The warmth of his body in turn warmed you, and soon you found yourself snuggling in just a little bit closer - your hand was on his chest and you draped a single leg over his. His body was a familiar comfort, one that you hadn’t realized you had missed until he was consuming every single one of your senses but your tongue - and you were ready to change that. Leaning your head back you smiled up at Tony who was quick to meet your gaze. This wasn’t the same look you had given him all those nights ago in Nashville. There was no nervousness, no shame, and no reason for him to think he wasn’t allowed to kiss you. Yet, Tony hesitated.

Raising his hand, Tony stroked over the smoke skiing off your cheek, his head shaking slowly from side to side as he let out a heavy breath that became your name on his lips. It sent a sinking feeling deep in your stomach, one that had you pulling away from his hold and pushing up to kneel in front of him on the bed.

“What’s wrong, Tony?”

Your mouth went dry with worry, your hands slipping into the sleeves of his sweater that you wore just enough to grip at the fabric. It was a simple act to try to keep your mind from racing as your studied Tony’s features - but it was failing. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from sliding into worry. Had Tony decided that having any kind of relationship with you was too much?

“I want to talk to you about what happened,” his words were heavy, and you didn’t need an explanation to know what exactly he was speaking to. While you have that conversation in the hallway back in Chicago, Tony wanted to talk about your fight and the events that led to the two of you being caught by Cooper.

“There’s nothing to talk about-” You tried to shrug it off, but Tony was insistent.

“Don’t say that,” he sighed, his hand coming up to rake through his dark curls, “I’m not proud of what I did that day, and I need you to know that. I shouldn’t have done what I did that day - should have said what I said. I don’t want to sit here and make excuses but it’s fucking hard to sit back and watch this all happen. Watching you run off to your appointments with the rest of the time, and then there’s you and Ross-” Tony looked away when he said his teammate's name, a heavy breath shaking through his body as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.

“I know this isn’t the most ideal situation to be in,” you sighed, a hand reaching out for his carefully before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “and I wish that it didn’t have to be this way, and I understand if you don’t want to do this anymore-”

“No, no,” he spoke quickly yet softly, “that’s not- fuck that. I tried being distant after what we did and it didn’t make it any easier. I still had to sit back and watch it all happen, but worst of all I had to watch as you did everything we did together with someone else.” His head lulled forward, his dark curls falling into his eyes as he gripped your hand a little tighter, “I’m glad you’re here tonight, and I really am sorry for what I did. It wasn’t right-”

“Then make it right, Tony,” you told him firmly, and for a moment there was only silence that hung between you as his warm gaze raised to meet your own.

It was a silence that left you biting your lip as you leaned in a little closer to him, his hand coming back up to rest on your cheek as he moved away from the support of the headboard. His hand guided you in a little closer, and he was meeting you halfway as his lips came down on yours as if it were the first time back in Nashville again. It was a feather-light kiss, his lips dragging over yours slowly and coaxing a gasp from your lips. The kiss had been gentle, but it was only the beginning. The moment you reciprocated the kiss, Tony’s hands found your hips and pulled you into his lap.

You straddled him, your hands seeking out anything to clutch onto. Fingertips dragged over the muscles of his chest, and up over his shoulders. You didn’t stop until your fingers were knitted in the thick strands of his curls, tugging his neck back just enough to coax him into parting his lips further to allow you to taste his tongue. That alone was not enough to satisfy you, but instead only left you craving more of him. You didn’t have to tell Tony that, not with your words anyway. He could feel it in the motions of your body as you stroked down the back of his neck with the tips of your fingers, and how your lips began to roll in a slow rhythm against his thighs. With each rotation of your hips, the friction between your clothed core and his thigh sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, but it wouldn’t be enough to leave you satisfied.

Tony’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers dragging in as he drew your hips forward so you rested higher on his lap - and it was there you could feel him between your legs. Stiff and ready for you, yet Tony didn’t rush things. He guided you over him slowly, the eagerness of his cock pressing up into you as he kissed you deeply, slowly, without haste. Tony had a hunger for you, but he was going to enjoy you like a satisfying meal instead of a late-night binge that would only leave you with an insatiable hunger for more.

When your body had fallen into the rhythm set out by his guidance, Tony’s hands began to wander. His touch moved over your waist, wrinkling his sweater as he pushed it up. The friction between the fabrics had your shirt peeling off with it as you listed your hands up and pulled back from his lips just enough for Tony to remove the layers from your body. The rush of your fabric over your ears was almost enough to disorient you as your head was already spinning with pleasure, and it left you whining as Tony’s lips failed to return to yours. With your skin exposed to him now, Tony wanted to explore it.

His mouth was on your neck when his strong-armed wrapped around you, hoisting you up from his lap to lay you out on the bed. Tony moved with you, his lips never once leaving your skin. He placed slow and sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the angle of your neck, leaving a hot trail of saliva to be cooled by the air as his mouth made its descent. Down your body his mouth travelled, his lips embracing your body with his careful kiss. They had first graced your collarbone, following its subtle angle down to the swell of your breast. He lingered there, focusing on one and then the other to assure he would leave his mark before kissing down between their valley and over the gore of your bra. From there he peppered kisses down the length of your stomach and only stopped when he hit the waistline of your pants.

It was there he hesitated, leaning his head back just enough to look up at you through the curls that had fallen down into his face - silently asking you for permission to continue on the off chance that you wanted him to stop. You nodded quickly in response, your own hands going to your pants to push them from your body as Tony made quick work of his own clothes. They were tossed into a heap on the floor with your own, before he was back in the bed and finding his place between your thighs. Tony braced himself over you, his hand pressing firm into the mattress beside your head as he reached the other down between your legs. Two fingers brushed over your clit, a teasing graze that left your hips wiggling, before they traced over your entryway that was slick with your need for him. You watched as his jaw slacked at just how effortlessly he was able to slide two fingers into your core with your arousal, a ghost of a moan on his lips as he coaxed one from your own lips.

Each plunge of his fingers inside your cunt was enough to leave you reeling, your teeth coming down to bite at your lower lip until it throbbed. You needed to be quiet. Your calendar was empty, and if anyone overheard you, there would be far too many questions to answer - but it was quickly becoming too much to contain. With both hands you reached up, your careful touch meeting his face as you guided him back down to your lips. As they met in a slow, opened-mouth kiss, you used it to muffle the moan that had so desperately wanted to escape.

“Tony,” you muttered his name softly against his lips before your words became a begging plea, “Tony, please. I want to come around your cock, not your fingers-”

Tony shuttered between your legs at your words, and he released a heavy breath that washed over your face in a blossom of heat. His lips were left to merely graze yours as he ease your fingers from your core. You held his gaze as you felt him working between your legs to grasp at his cock and soon he was dragging the head of his cock up and down the slick arousal of your cunt. He guided it up and down, then up and down again before he was guiding his cock inside you with his hand and the careful pressure of his hips. His fingers had primed you, and yet his cock continued to spread your walls with his careful thrust. Tony had thrust into you abruptly like he had the first time he had fucked you. No, this time he was gentle as he guided his cock in merely halfway. It was then he began his careful thrusts, easing himself in another inch at a time as your core allowed.

Soon, Tony had fallen into a steady rhythm, his thrust slow and firm as he plunged into your core until he was balls deep. He took his time with you, his thrusts not hesitant but meticulous as were the rest of his caresses and kisses as he fucked you. Tony refused to lose control, to fall into the brash emotion of jealousy that had consumed him all those days ago when he had taken you for the first time. The graze of his touch, and strokes of his tongue each one of them had been selfless as he was driving to the brink of pleasure. This was how he wanted to fuck you for the first time, so sweet and tenderly, and he wasn’t going to stop until you were quivering around his cock.

Careful hands guided your legs up from the bed and let them wrap around his hips with ease. A low moan quaked through your body as he was able to ease in a little deeper now, and it left you digging your heels into his lower back. Your hips rolled to meet his every thrust and your head lulled back almost dreamily into the mattress that the pleasures of his cock began to consume you - but it wasn’t until you watched his own expression begin to falter. Tony’s blinks became long, and his breathing a little more laboured as his own climax began to wash over him - and you could feel him trying to resist. His thrusts became inconsistent and shallow and his eyes shut tight as he did all he could to fight it, but the touch of your hand against his cheek was quick to coax his eyes back open.

He stared down at you with an almost dazed look, his expression soft as the pressure of your heels guided him back inside you fully. “Don’t hold back, Tony,” you muttered, “I don’t have to be first,” your words were a reassuring breath as you flexed your core around him.

While your words softened his face once more, you could still feel the hesitation in each thrust. “Tony, I’m so close,” you did your best to encourage him, and your words weren’t untruthful. His every touch was bringing you closer and closer, your core on the very edge of your climax but it was craving one thing; “I want to feel it - I want to feel you come, Tony. Fill me up Tony, I’m yours-”

Your words were broken by a moan as Tony gripped your hips and thrust into you quickly. His pace hastened and he thrust in deeper than he had all night and he didn’t slow, not even as his cock began to twitch with pleasure and flooded your core with his cum. You could feel it as it consumed your core in waves, and oozed down along his cock as he fucked his own cum from you. It was the final push you needed to be thrown over the edge. Your legs began to tremble, your ankles locking to keep your legs from slipping down from his hips. Your body was consumed by your every uneven breath as you threw your head back into the mattress and your walls throbbed with pleasure around his cock, desperate to keep every bit of him inside you.

It was a pleasure that left you both smiling, Tony coming down to place playful kisses along your lips as you both plummeted from the highs of pleasure. It coaxed soft laughter from your lips as he eased himself from you, and came to lay beside you on the bed, the kisses never seizing but instead travelling over your cheeks and neck. It was only when Tony became consumed by the scent of you that he buried his face in your neck and let himself relish in it. You welcomed the feeling of his hot breath as it washed over your skin, the warmth aiding in bringing you calm and the threat of sleep was rapidly approaching.

Your head lulled into his carefully, your cheek resting against his soft curls as you took in a deep breath of your own. You wanted to fall asleep like that, with his body intertwined with yours - “Tony,” you hummed out, “can I sleep here tonight?”

Drawing back, Tony looked down at you with a soft expression, “of course you can.”

His hand came up to stroke your cheek slowly, and it felt as if it were just you and Tony in the world - and that you didn’t have 21 other men who needed your love and affection - and you intended to take advantage of every moment of it.

“I’m just gonna get cleaned up, and we should get some sleep, we have a flight early in the morning,” you told him softly as you pulled away from him, and your body protested the cold of the room in an instant. You wanted his touch, his warmth.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you reached over and picked up his sweater from the floor. It didn’t quite smell like him anymore, but it would keep you warm enough until you could crawl back into his bed. “I’ll just be a minute,” you assured and disappeared into the bathroom.

You let the water run and you used the bathroom, letting the temperature of the water reach what you liked before you washed your hands and splashed your face. It was a desperate attempt at your nightly routine that you had left behind in your room - but this would be sufficient enough, especially when you had Tony and sleep waiting for you - but when you returned to the main room Tony was not in the bed.

Brow furrowed as you looked from the bed to the tv screen that had gone black and finally to the bedroom door Tony stood dressed in his lounge pants and his back to you. You hadn’t heard a knock on the door, and you had half the mind to retreat back into the bedroom to hopefully go unseen but that idea was completely abandoned when Tony turned back to look at you, giving you a complete view of the player that stood beyond the door in the hallway: Ross.

He stood there almost awkwardly, his face absent of the smile that would send butterflies into your stomach. Instead, he wore a look of concern and in his hands, he held his phone the screen bright for Tony to see.

“What is going on?” you bit out in a harsh whisper as you moved into the main room and towards the door with little regard for the fact that you weren’t wearing any pants and that the remnants of Tony had begun to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You moved straight for the doorway, Tony moving out of your way as you reached out to take Ross by the arm. You tugged Ross into the privacy of the hotel room, assuring that the door closed firmly behind him. It was only then you reached for the phone, the screen almost blinding against your tired eyes. In big bold letters it had become clear as to why he had come looking for you, he had an appointment.

“Ross, this isn’t funny,” you sighed as you let your thumb drag down over the details of the appointment. He hadn’t made it from himself, why would he? He had no wife or girlfriend waiting for him back home, he didn’t need anyone’s permission to spend a night with you. No, this appointment was made only minutes ago on the captain's orders.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” Ross admitted, his words soft almost apologetic as he looked between you and Tony, “I was here to-”

“Ask for my permission?” Cirelli cut in, his voice pushing the edge of hostility.

“To tell you I wasn’t going to go through with it,” Ross clarified.

Tony shook his head slowly, a low laugh erupting from his throat as he leaned up against the wall to put some distance between him and Ross. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about you, if you don’t do this-” He cut himself off as he raised a hand to run over his jaw, he didn’t like what he was about to say.

“What are you trying to say, Tony?” You pressed gently.

“You need to keep your appointment with Ross, and the captain needs to hear it.”

“Cirelli-” Ross started to protest, but you cut him off with your own.

“He’s right, Ross. The two of you have been at odds since the moment you got here because of me. You’re part of this team, and you don’t seem to be going anywhere. He needs to know that the two of you are willing to put everything behind you, and the only way he’s going to be able to see that is for this to happen.”

Your words hung heavily in the air as you moved from the doorway to the heap of clothes on the floor. You sorted through them quickly, pulling on your panties and your bottoms before grabbing your phone from the bedside table. Standing there, you looked down at your phone as you held it in your hands, your eyes fixated on the calendar notification that was meant to inform you of your appointment with Ross. Taking a steady breath, you found your composure and returned to the doorway where Ross waited almost anxiously.

He offered you a crooked smile as you returned to him, but his eyes were quick to return to Tony, “Are you sure? I don’t need to do this man-”

“I’m sure,” it was only with Tony’s assurance that a spark of excitement returned to Ross’ features, his lips quirking up at the corners. He wanted you, but he had been trying to put his teammate first. It almost brought Tony’ to laughter once more, his head shaking slowly, “you could at least try to hide the fact that you’re not disappointed.”

Ross could only manage a soft chuckle in response, his hand raising to rub modestly over the back of his neck. He could only play coy for so long.

“You are trouble, Ross Colton,” you told him firmly, tossing your phone at him before you turned to Tony and took him in your arms. You held him tight, your face resting against his chest as he craned to place a sweet kiss on the top of your head, “good night, Tony.”

“Good night,” he sighed your name into your hair before he let you go, his own hand reaching out to get the door for you and Ross. He watched as you both moved out into the hallway, but you had only made it a few steps before he was calling out after his teammate. The pair held a long glance, Tony’s softened expression meeting Colton’s which had grown bright at the prospect of getting to spend his night with you. Tony’s words were heavy and strained as he spoke out one last time before he could let you both go, “Colton, you treat her right.”

#anthony cirelli #nhl imagine #hockey smut #hockey rpf #nhl rpf #nhl players #rpf #nhl smut #;; the road wife

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conradscrime · 7 months

Text

The Murder of Martha Moxley

October 01, 2023

On October 30, 1975, 15 year old Martha Moxley went out with her friends to "mischief night" which was a night where all the neighbourhood kids would pull pranks on the neighbours, such as ding dong ditch and TP'ing houses.

According to the other kids there that night, Martha had been flirting with a boy named Thomas Skakel and even kissed him. Thomas had an older brother named Michael. Their mother had died in 1973 from brain cancer and that was when Michael turned to drinking. It was said that the Skakel's would be given large sums of money and would be left unsupervised a lot.

The last time anyone saw Martha she was apparently with Thomas behind a fence, near the boy's pool in his backyard. This was at 9:30pm.

The following day, October 31, 1975, Halloween, Martha's body was found underneath a tree in her own backyard. Her pants and underwear were pulled down, though it was later determined she had not been sexually assaulted.

Pieces of a broken six-iron golf club were found near her. The autopsy indicated that she had been bludgeoned and stabbed with the club. The club was owned by the Skakel's.

Since Thomas Skakel was the last person to have been with Martha the night before he became the prime suspect. His father however, denied authorities to get any access to Thomas' school and mental health records.

Thomas' live in tutor, Kenneth Littleton also became a prime suspect. He had only started working a few hours before the murder. Neither Thomas or Kenneth were charged and the case was cold for decades.

Over the years both Thomas and his brother Michael changed their alibi's for the night Martha was murdered. Michael claimed he was window-peeping and masturbating in a tree beside Martha's home from 11:30 pm to 12:30 am.

Two former students who had gone to a centre for troubled youths reported they had heard Michael confess to killing Martha with a golf club. One of these students quoted Michael as having said, "I'm gong to get away with murder. I'm a Kennedy." Michael's aunt was the widow of US Senator, Robert F. Kennedy. Michael supposedly had gotten special treatment at this centre.

A man named William Kennedy Smith was tried and acquitted for rape in 1991, and a rumour had begun that he had been at the Skakel house on the night Martha was killed. Though it was never confirmed if he had involvement, the case had a new investigation to go off of.

In June 1998, a one-man grand jury was set to review the evidence of the case. After 18 months, it was determined there was enough evidence to charge Michael Skakel with murder.

On January 9, 2000, Michael surrendered to authorities. He was released shortly after on a $500,000 bail. On March 14, 2000, Michael was arraigned for murder n juvenile court, because he was only 15 years old at the time of Martha's murder.

On January 31, 2001, a judged ruled he would be tried as an adult.

The trial began on May 7, 2002, in Connecticut. Michael's alibi at the time of the murder was that he was at his cousin's house. On June 7, 2002, Michael was found guilty of the murder of Martha Moxley. He was sentenced to 20 years to life in prison.

Skakel and his team fought for a new trial many times, often being denied. However, on October 23, 2013, Skakel was granted a new trial by Judge Thomas A. Bishop who ruled his attorney had failed to adequately represent Michael when he was convicted in 2002.

On November 21, 2013, Skakel was released on a $1.2 million bond and conditions. He had to be monitored with a GPS device and have no contact with the Moxley family. He would not be allowed to leave the state of Connecticut and would be periodically checked in on over the phone.

In December 2016, the Connecticut Supreme Court reinstated Skakel's murder conviction with a 4-3 majority decision. In 2018, they wanted the court to revoke Skakel's bail, and make him continue to serve his sentence in jail. Also in 2018 it was announced there would be a new trial ordered, but by October 2020, it was informed that Skakel would not be retried, with the state's chief saying the state would not be able to prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt.

Michael Skakel remains released.

#true crime #crime #unsolved mysteries #unsolved #murder #homicide #unsolved murder #unsolved case #solved #mystery

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sroloc--elbisivni · 7 months

Text

Sorrow is an Autumn Heart bibliography

October 16, 2022 is the day I put up the first chapter of what I still refer to as the spookyfic, and I'm overwhelmed and delighted that people are still finding it enjoyable. @letsgetempirical asked about the bibliography, and because I still have a lot of the info and wanted to do something for the ficiversary, here we go!

some notes: this is in two sections. The first section is the officially-formatted version (Chicago style) of stuff I knew I would need to refer back to or would definitely be using something from and remembered to put in Zotero while I was looking at it. The second section is...all of the links I zipped away into onetab when the fic was done. It's much less coherent. Not everything in here showed up in the fic, either--some stuff was just me following rabbit holes that looked interesting, or finding out that whatever I was looking at wouldn't fit for whatever reason.

Some of the jstor links are very ugly and I apologize for that. I also apologize that not all of the sources are going to be publicly available, as I was using university library access through work. The gun stuff in particular was maddeningly hard to get Anglophone sources on. I also just gave up on food at some point which is why the only visible meals in this story are the two from Usagi's recovery, and which I still managed to fuck up by forgetting the difference between yams (native to Japan) and sweet potatoes (from south america via pourtugese traders, not at all widespread). c'est la vie.

I WOULD like to shout out three of my absolute favorite open-access sources I found while researching this: Sengoku Daimyo, an SCA site that consistently had specific terminology or details I needed and whose 'Calendar and Time' page was probably my single most frequently consulted website; Shinsen On-Hiinagata: A New selection of Respected Patterns, which is a genuine Early Edo period book of kimono patterns and where I got the chrysanthemums kosode Leo wears in chapter 3; and The Rice Harvest, an online game where you play through a rice growing season in the Edo Period as resource manager. Yeah. I never managed to get all the way through because it was more time than I had to invest when I wanted to get back to writing, but its existence delights me and it DID teach me what tea orchards were.

Part 1:

Aoki, Reiko. “Innovation and Incentives in Japan Focus on Pre-Meiji,” n.d., 24.

Armstrong, Katie. “History of Kimono: The Edo Period.” Owlcation. Accessed November 5, 2022. https://owlcation.com/humanities/History-of-Kimono-Part-4-The-Early-Modern-Period-Edo-Period.

Breen, John. "Resurrecting the Sacred Land of Japan: The State of Shinto in the Twenty-First Century." Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, Vol. 37, Issue 2, (2010): 294-315

Brown, Delmer M. “The Impact of Firearms on Japanese Warfare, 1543–98.” The Journal of Asian Studies 7, no. 3 (May 1948): 236–53. https://doi.org/10.2307/2048846.

“Danka System.” In Wikipedia, October 16, 2022. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Danka_system&oldid=1116488468.

Docslib. “Talismans and Amulets in the Japanese Collection1.” Accessed October 14, 2022. https://docslib.org/doc/1588708/talismans-and-amulets-in-the-japanese-collection1.

“Fudai Daimyo - in The Edo Period.” Accessed November 6, 2022. https://www.liquisearch.com/fudai_daimyo/in_the_edo_period.

Greve, Gabi. “Edo - the EDOPEDIA -: Teppo Guns.” Edo - the EDOPEDIA - (blog), April 30, 2016. https://edoflourishing.blogspot.com/2016/04/teppo-guns.html.

“Ofuda.” In Wikipedia, October 4, 2022. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Ofuda&oldid=1114105231.

Sengoku Daimyo. “Etiquette.” Accessed October 14, 2022. https://sengokudaimyo.com/etiquette.

“Shinsen On-Hiinagata (A New Selection of Respected Patterns).” Accessed November 5, 2022. https://collections.mfa.org/objects/316014/shinsen-onhiinagata-a-new-selection-of-respected-patterns;jsessionid=B2C387B7B543B9D56C2759D94A3A8755.

"Special Exhibition: The Introduction of Guns in Japanese Warfare," National Museum of Japanese History, Oct. 3 to Nov. 26, 2006, 9.

Walthall, Anne. “Do Guns Have Gender?,” 24–47, 2011. https://doi.org/10.1525/california/9780520267374.003.0002.

Yu, A. C. “Chigyo - Japanese Wiki Corpus.” Accessed October 14, 2022. https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/history/Chigyo.html.

———. “Kamishimo - Japanese Wiki Corpus.” Accessed November 5, 2022. https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/culture/Kamishimo.html.

———. “Kokushu - Japanese Wiki Corpus.” Accessed October 14, 2022. https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/title/Kokushu.html.

国友鉄砲ミュージアム. “STORY,” March 16, 2020. https://kunitomo-teppo.jp/ikkansai_en/story_en/.

Part 2:

https://www.justonecookbook.com/tsukimi-japanese-mid-autumn-festival/ | Celebrating Tsukimi: Japanese Autumn Festival • Just One Cookbook

https://owlcation.com/humanities/The-Role-of-Shintoism-in-Art-During-Edo-Period-Japan | The Role of Shintoism in Art During Edo Period Japan - Owlcation

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/45744 | Autumn Grasses | Japan | Edo period (1615–1868) | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

http://dwl.gov-online.go.jp/video/cao/dl/public_html/gov/pdf/hlj/20151101/06-07.pdf | 06-07.pdf

https://metimejp.com/lucky-charms3/ | Looking for Good Health in Ancient Japanese Culture - Me Time Japan

https://duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=Morishio&atb=v229-1&ia=web | Morishio at DuckDuckGo

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suzu_(bell) | Suzu (bell) - Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Traditional_Japanese_musical_instruments | Traditional Japanese musical instruments - Wikipedia

https://japanobjects.com/features/furin-wind-chimes | Furin: All You Need to Know About Japanese Wind Chimes

https://sengokudaimyo.com/calendar-and-time | Calendar and Time — Sengoku Daimyo

https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/building/Yamajiro%20(mountain%20castles).html | Yamajiro (mountain castles) - Japanese Wiki Corpus

https://www.britannica.com/place/Japan/The-Tokugawa-status-system | Japan - The Tokugawa status system | Britannica https://www.pin1.harvard.edu/cas/login?service=https%3A%2F%2Fkey-

https://nbthkebscandinavia.files.wordpress.com/2020/02/e6968-pettersson_16th_century_matchlocks.pdf | The evolution of the Japanese matchlock during the 16th century - e6968-pettersson_16th_century_matchlocks.pdf

https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/history/Joshu%20Daimyo%20(governors%20of%20castles).html | Joshu Daimyo (governors of castles) - Japanese Wiki Corpus

https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/culture/Jinya.html | Jinya - Japanese Wiki Corpus

https://www.kikkoman.co.jp/kiifc/foodculture/pdf_12/e_002_006.pdf | e_002_006.pdf https://wattention.com/traditional-rice-harvesting-in-japan/ | Traditional Rice Harvesting in Japan - WAttention.com

http://www.thericeharvest.com/info/game-basics-and-tips/growing-tea.html | Growing Tea | Game Basics & Tips | The Rice Harvest

http://www.thericeharvest.com/game.html?difficulty=easy&villageType=mountain | The Rice Harvest

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/44674 | Farmers' Lives in the Twelve Months | Japan | Edo period (1615–1868) | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

https://www.tokyoweekender.com/2022/01/in-old-japan-rice-luxury/ | In Old Japan, Rice Used to Be a Luxury | Tokyo Weekender https://sake-museum.jp/en/saketalk/1010/ | The History of Rice Polishing in the Edo Period - Sake Museum (Hakushika Memorial Museum of Sake)

https://www.japanpowered.com/japan-culture/understanding-japanese-good-luck-charms | Understanding Japanese Good Luck Charms

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11776994/ | [Camphor in the Edo era fireworks] - PubMed

https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv176ktd4?searchText=mountain%20castles%20edo%20period&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3Dmountain%2Bcastles%2Bedo%2Bperiod&ab_segments=0%2Fbasic_search_gsv2%2Fcontrol&refreqid=fastly-default%3A335be2b0edac87a2794e24ced0c184ea | Technical Knowledge in Early Modern Japan on JSTOR

ab_segments=0%2Fbasic_search_gsv2%2Fcontrol&refreqid=fastly-default%3A335be2b0edac87a2794e24ced0c184ea | The castle town of Hikone and its future on JSTOR

https://www.jcastle.com/view/Daimyo | Daimyo - JCastle, the guide to Japanese Castles

https://www.jcastle.info/view/Edo_Period | Edo Period - Jcastle.info

https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/building/Yamajiro%20(mountain%20castles).html | Yamajiro (mountain castles) - Japanese Wiki Corpus

https://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?452907-Food-during-the-Sengoku-Era | Food during the Sengoku Era

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/81d8gf/what_was_japanese_cuisine_like_during_sengoku/ | What was Japanese cuisine like during Sengoku Jidai era Japan? How was it different to modern Japanese cuisine? : AskHistorians

https://www.britannica.com/place/Japan/Samurai-groups-and-farming-villages | Japan - Samurai groups and farming villages | Britannica

https://kokorocares.com/blogs/blog/life-in-edo-a-prominent-era-of-establishing-japanese-food-culture | Life in Edo: A Prominent Era of Establishing Japanese Food Culture - Kokoro Care Packages

https://www.kikkoman.co.jp/kiifc/foodculture/pdf_12/e_002_006.pdf | e_002_006.pdf

https://external-content.duckduckgo.com/iu/?u=https%3A%2F%2Ftse1.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DOIP.Z480GtLLhOvuc1zsHfsakQAAAA%26pid%3DApi&f=1&ipt=17bd9f98803761c2300bdae496a0afb2a793b5ba6a5c3fb55316692806ed8087&ipo=images | th-1957266066 (JPEG Image, 129 × 180 pixels)

https://www.liquisearch.com/fudai_daimyo/in_the_edo_period | Fudai Daimyo - in The Edo Period

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fudai_daimy%C5%8D | Fudai daimyō - Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fief | Fief - Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daimyo | Daimyo - Wikipedia

https://www.adfontes.uzh.ch/en/tutorium/old-japanese-maps/edo-period-maps | Ad fontes: Tutorial / Old Japanese Maps / Edo-period maps

https://www.digital.archives.go.jp/das/image-l/M1000000000000000309 | 和州郡山城絵図 https://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/1286203?_lang=en | 〔日本図〕 - NDL Digital Collections

https://www.nakasendoway.com/castle-towns-2/ | Castle Towns

https://duckduckgo.com/?q=topographical+map+japan&t=ffab&atb=v229-1&iax=images&ia=images&iai=https%3A%2F%2Fexternal-preview.redd.it%2FGNBAmxXsj_ebIW6pZj0pV6ZYu--m3oHxwgpYveuCgo.png%3Fauto%3Dwebp%26s%3D8b008a3a286a814e1e7cf96b79a33dfe5b070883 | topographical map japan at DuckDuckGo

#fic talk #sroloc babbles #fic research #usagi yojimbo

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antiquatedplumbobs · 1 year

Text

Tag Game for Historical Simblrs!

I initially made this tag game over a year ago at a point when I felt like there were a lot of new people on history simblr I didn't know. I was chatting with some friends and thought now might be a good time to revive it!

1. What has been your favorite time period to play in or which one are you most excited for?

Right now I'm very excited for the 1920s, I have a lot of plans and some unique story lines I feel coming up. It's also feeling like I'll actually get there soon!

2. Do you have a favorite piece of historical cc? (CAS or BB)

Last time I did this I chose a BB piece so this time I'm going CAS, happylifesims recently made a victorian workers outfit with these adorable rolled sleeves and it just looks so good on guys. It's the current darling of my heart.

3. Who is your favorite sim currently?

Right now it's Willy, I'm really excited to get back into the Sewell's and really start exploring his story in earnest.

4. What is your favorite world?

Still Brindleton Bay, always has been, always will be.

5. Are you more gameplay or story focused?

I like to think I mix these two mediums pretty well, I plan big story arcs but tend to let gameplay influence day to day, and if something interesting gameplay wise happens I try to include it!

6. Do you like to play with pets in your historical saves?

I do! I think they add a really fun dimension to the family and are great for social needs.

7. What’s your biggest immersion breaking pet peeve with the game?

All the townies with the strangest colored hair and body types. And names. I just wish it wasn't all so discordant.

8. What’s your favorite in-game historical item? (CAS or BB)

I really like the items that came with the country kitchen kit, the bucket of fruit and vegetables just makes me so happy.

9. What would you like to see as a new pack or asset to the game?

I'm at the point where I just want a historical pack. I know it's not gonna happen, but gosh a girl can dream.

10. What pack do you think is invaluable as a historical simmer?

I think that Cottage Living is amazing all around, but I'd put Cats and Dogs second, perhaps tying with Get Together. They both have amazing BB and CAS and i prefer the worlds to Henford.

11. Do you have a favorite mod to enhance historical gameplay?

Mizoreyukii has a functional broom that works like a vacuum and it just makes my little historical simmer heart happy to see my sims sweeping away.

12. What’s your ideal family size for playing?

I like having enough to keep it interesting, but not so many that it's overwhelming. I think maybe five or six but obviously the ages influence things too.

13. Do you use poses?

I do! I like to use in game animations whenever I can because they feel a bit more lively to me, but sometimes you need to track down a pose or wrestle with blender to make one when you need something specific.

14. Do you use any overrides in your game?

Yes, I love overrides. I use moonsims historic book override, a mop override, a dish override, a fireplace light override, a dog leash override. Big on overrides here.

15. Do you, or did you, play off-the-grid during your game?

I usually don't, I find it a bit too limiting for what would have actually been historically possible at the time.

16. What lifespan do you play on?

A slightly tweaked version of normal, but some people have been sort of convincing me to potentially try a longer one.... We'll see...

17. What inspired you to start playing a historically?

A reddit post about the decades challenge, which was just a completely new way to think about playing to me. I'd never really done any kind of challenge before at all and I think the combo of passage of time, goals, and so much fun new cc just absolutely hooked me!!

See how my answers have changed in the past year and a half

I geared it towards historical simming, since that’s what I do, but please feel free to partake even if you’re not a historical simmer and just adapt for regular gameplay or whatever you do!!

I'm going to cast a wide net here with my tags @aheathen-conceivably @cowplant-snacks @simadelics @thistleflower-sims @carousel-of-sims @stargazingsims @gilded-ghosts @simming-in-the-rain @scythesms @surely-sims @historysims4 @sasaofastora @javitrulovesims and anyone else who would like to take part!

I really like these because it helps me get to know everyone I see on my dash and sometimes find new people to follow, so don't be shy about taking part!!

#ask game #tag game

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bittersweetimaginings · 2 years

Note

I know he’s far from sweet, may I request though some fluff with Alex DeLarge? Pronouns for she/her and I don’t mind dark content mentions ^^

In the aftermath • Alex DeLarge

⚠️Content warning: Mentions of s3x (consensual), violent actions/behavior, thr3ats, gang activity, manipulative behavior, ghastlighting, verbal, psychological and emotional abus3, hoovering, over all the depiction of a very t0xic and codependent relationship. (I'm sorry, but this is just angst with a few ""cute"" moments sprinkled here and there, tho I might do something more "light" in the future for Alex)

*These characters do not belong to me, all rights to their respective owners, this is just a piece of entertainment by and for fans.

Summary: You finally get fed up of your boyfriend treating you like shit, so you gather up the courage to end the relationship; too bad he knows his way to your home and heart.

Reader’s pronouns: She/Her

Keys: Y/N = Your Name. Nadsat glossary.

Recommendation: I based this piece on the song “Hoax” by Taylor Swift, “Embers (Alt Version 2014)” by Max Richter & Elfa Rún Kristinsdóttir & Chui-Yee Trey Lee, “Beth’s theme” and “Broken” by Ólafur Arnalds so I highly recommend listening to them as you read :)

Author's note: If you want to send your own request, please check the Disclaimer & Rules post and the MASTERLIST post to see more content and which characters are available.

I try my best to not let characters be OOC and I think the only way to have a "fluff" moment with Alex is him using this as a manipulation tactic...so yeah, he's an asshole.

Also I believe in the movie Alex is 18/19 and by the end of it 22 or something idk, so I implemented this on the story (and will keep doing so in future requests), so to keep you from any confusion that might arise: Alex and reader are currently 18 in the story, with reader developing a crush on Alex at 14 until they met and started dating at 15-16, a bit before Alex started his criminal endeavors with his droogs; this is a very long piece, sorry if it differs much from what you were expecting (the “fluff” part is almost at the end), I got carried away ._.

I'm not here to judge why you are consuming this type of content (I'm the one doing the writing after all) I know from personal experience that this type of content (as weird as it sounds to some of you) might be used as a coping mechanism to a similar situation some of us might've experience or are currently experiencing irl; but just in case, I want to encourage you to reach for help, so please, if you're going through a tough time or experiencing some kind of violence, here are some resources that I was able to find and might be of help, please stay safe everyone:

List of countries and their helplines for d0m3stic abus3, s3xual as5ault and other resources.

List of other resources for immediate help.

List of countries and their respective helplines for su1cid3 prevention/crisis.

It's been almost 2 whole months.

It's been almost 2 months since you last saw him.

They say time heals all wounds but in your case you have only grown more anxious as time keeps passing and you haven't seen him.

"Maybe it’s part of the breakup process." you try to find some peace in that idea, but it's quite difficult once you take into account that this is the longest breakup period you had endured without him, normally it will only last a few days, maybe a couple of weeks at most and the two of you would be back together as if nothing ever happened until the cycle repeats itself once again.

"you're fine, it's better this way." You repeat out loud in order to convince yourself.

Two months ago you broke up with Alex, your boyfriend of almost 3 years but you had been in love with him for quite some time before that; Alex had been one of the boys you went to school with and since the very first time you saw him you felt a connection, so passionate and vibrant it was almost frightening; but since Alex had always been quite the charmer, he was surrounded by people (especially girls) all the time, so your shyness and immense fear of embarrassing yourself prevented you from approaching him in any way and for a time you were fine with just loving him quietly thinking that in time you'll grow out of your little crush; but it wasn't until your friend Pete (He was mostly friend of your brother, nonetheless you still hung out with him and got along) started to hang out with Alex that the two of you finally met.

You and your brother had been hanging out in Pete's house as usual, talking nonsense while playing a friendly game of poker when suddenly his new friends stopped by and that was the first time Alex saw you, it was hard not to, you were the only woman in the room and he promptly teased Peter by asking him if you were his girlfriend which he quickly denied.

“‘Course not, she’s too pretty for you, ain’t that right, my lovely?”

As a not so subtle blush crept into your cheeks you could only reply to the unexpected compliment with a sheepish smile, fearing you might say something ridiculous if you were to utter a single word.

That night you didn’t say much if anything at all, only uttering your goodbye’s once you decided to leave, not being able to bear Alex gaze sizing you up “discretely” from time to time without growing redder everytime it happened.

The next time you met him was outside the local library after a long afternoon dedicated to your studies, you had lost the track of time and now the sun was almost setting, nervous and quite frightened you decided to head back home as fast as you could manage, you knew just how awful the city can get at night, you had seen the news; the ever increasing gang activity in town had everyone cowering back to their homes before sunset in an almost unspoken curfew, you knew that if you didn’t make it back home in a few minutes not only your Mama would worry, but also something horrible might happen to you if you had the bad luck to encounter the wrong people.

“Well, well, well; Greetings Y/N!” the sudden mention of your name making you turn around immediately, only to find dear Alex leaning against one of the light posts in front of you.

“um…hello, Alex” your reply comes in a hushed tone, your shyness momentarily taken away By the surprising fact that he knows your name which you never told him but you guess Pete must have done so.

“Say, no pretty ptitsa* like you should be out at this hour, your poor em* must be worried.”

He stated as he approached you, not even bothering with hiding the fact that he was once again sizing you up lasciviously with his eyes; now no longer oblivious to the fact that he was flirting with you and high on all of his unexpected but very much wanted attention you decide to make a move even if a small one, you were grateful to have the perfect excuse laid before you, and so you asked:

“I know, I just lost track of time.” you chuckle lightly “Alex, I know it might be troublesome to ask this of you, but would you care to accompany me home?”

Though momentarily surprised by your unexpected brief moment of boldness, Alex does nothing but smile widely to himself before replying a few seconds later:

“It would be my pleasure.”

that night he had indeed escorted you home, but made a brief stop in an alley near your house to fuck you hard in the cold winter air of a january night; not exactly how you had planned to lose your virginity but you were happy nonetheless, specially because he had treated you so sweetly afterwards even making you laugh with him placing a kiss on your hand in a chivalrous but over-the-top farewell gesture before parting ways as he left you safe and sound on your doorstep.

you guessed that would be the end of it, a one night stand and nothing more, and you were fine with that, at the very least you had experienced being embraced fully by the very person you had had a crush on for a long time.

And for a while it was true, remaining as almost perfect strangers, the only thing changing between the two of you being the small acknowledgements you’ll give each other in the forms of brief smiles, small hand waves or a slight tipping of the bowler hat he had begun wearing recently, as he saw you passing by.

But then there was a night as cold as the other, you were sitting by the vanity near the large window in your room, getting ready for bed; until you heard the sound of something hitting the window, harsh enough to spook you but lightly enough to see that breaking it was not the intent. As you approached the window your face now reflecting disbelief at the person standing at the bottom of it: Alex.

“Well hello, Darling” he seemed a bit…off, jumpy, perhaps even restless.

“Alex? what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just passing by, it occured to me that might as well pay you a visit, long time no see and all that.” you know it’s a lie as he is looking over his shoulder as he says this, and that's when you heard it: faint due to distance but very much recognizable…police sirens.

Alex looks at you dead serious, gauging your reaction in search of any sign you had put two and two together and whether or not you would help him, you look at him with the same intensity and without a word you retreat back into your bedroom; Alex almost curses you out right then and there, but his face is met with a large white cloth emanating from your bedroom window.

“I'll hold it, but you better hurry.” Your words pleased Alex greatly and in no time he was climbing up the make-shift rope, a big smile plastered all over his face; as he is climbing the last bit of the cloth, you hear the sirens approach dangerously so without wasting a single second you pull Alex in with all the strength you can muster, which is not much as he ends up falling and hitting the left side of his body against your bedroom floor, but once he’s inside you let the cloth fall (deciding that you’ll recover it later), shut the windows, the blinds and turn off the lights. What follows are a few tense seconds that felt like minutes as you hear the police siren right in front of your house and the blue and red light reflecting on your bedroom as they pass by it and only when they drive away, Alex's infectious laugh is what breaks the silence, but as you hear footsteps approaching your bedroom you cover his mouth quickly.

“Y/N? Dear, what was all that noise? Are you alright?” The voice of your father outside your bedroom door makes you panic, you look at Alex as you try to come up with an excuse but even with your hand over his mouth you can see he’s smiling, his mischievous blue eyes trained on you awaiting your next move.

“Umm…yes, Dad, don’t worry I just dropped some things”

“You sure? Do you need help with anything?” your father questions and you can hear the door knob turning.

“No dad, please don’t enter, I'm changing.” you yell hurriedly, and that’s all you need to drive your father away as he mutters an apologetic “ok” and you finally hear him walk back to his bedroom, is only then when you feel you can finally breathe and as you remove your hand from Alex’s face, he bursts out laughing once again though this time, as quietly as he can manage.

“Is not funny, we almost got caught!” you scold him lightly.

“Apologies my dear, but you should have seen your face.” he manages to muster in between laughs. Part of you is curious and eager to ask why he was running from the police while wearing such strange clothing? but the questions get caught up in your throat as you become aware of Alex’s injuries.

“God, are you alright?” you mutter as you inspect his face carefully to which he immediately goes silent analyzing your face as an unreadable expression falls on his own. Moments later you have Alex sitting on your bathroom toilet as you stand before him cleaning and tending to his injuries as best as you can;his face still lays frozen in that same serious yet mysterious expression as he looks at you.

Truth be told he was trying his best to comprehend the situation, your unwavering gentle and soft demeanor paired with your eagerness to help him had taken him by surprise to say the least; most girls he had one night stands with had never treated him like you had in the aftermath, in fact; that night you weren’t the first girl who’s window he had come knocking, but you were the first one to have helped him, even if that could’ve put you in a dangerous or troublesome position; you even went as far as to care for his injuries, minor as they were, so attentively.

And the first thought that popped into his mind is how adorable he finds what he perceives as foolishness on your part, a thought that allows for a small smile to break his serious façade of which you take notice and smile back at him almost instinctively.

“What?” you questioned with a glint of nervousness on your voice, Alex shakes his head slightly before closing the small space in between you with a soft kiss that caught you by surprise but you returned his affection shortly after by allowing him to fuck you once again, though this time was quite different, not only because you where no longer in an alleyway in the cool night air, but because this time it felt more real somehow as his touch was no longer hurried nor rough but soft and gentle; he spent the whole night beside you, you even remember him caressing your cheek as your head laid there near his chest.

And after that night everything changed, he wasn't just greeting you from afar, oh no; this time around he make sure everybody knew of your “relationship”, greeting you warmly by holding you in his arms every time he had the chance, introducing you as his girlfriend to everyone even his parents, showering you with gifts, compliments and fun escapades that made nothing but accelerate your heart.

You genuinely thought of him as being “the one” and how could you not? Oh how unbelievably sweet Alex was when he was trying to conquer you.

You were so deeply blinded by his so-called love that today it’s impossible for you to know exactly when things began to change. Did it began with all those “jokes” or comments he made about you in front of his droogs? You hated those because they made you uncomfortable, especially the ones that made fun of your body. Perhaps it was right after that time where you decided to hang out with your friends instead of him? The next time you saw him he acted as if you didn’t even exist and stopped talking to you for days until you apologized. Was it after your first fight? He yelled at you so horribly you almost thought it was a nightmare and not reality, but he apologized right after so it was alright, right? or Was it that time he belittled you so badly he made you cry in front of his friends? you’ll never forget the look they gave you, almost as if they pitied you, you felt so ashamed and demoralized you felt your eyes would start bleeding as your tears kept falling nonstop, or maybe it was after you found out about him being a gang leader? about the things he did? he started off by revealing just the small things: robbery or vandalism, always ready with a very good excuse up his sleeve (that or you were just desperate to believe him, believe he wasn’t…all that bad) but as time passed by he didn’t even bother to make any excuses nor did you bother to ask what he had done in his outings; you had learned that doing so would only end badly as the last time you did so he had made you tag along and forced you into beating a poor man who’s only mistake was being at the wrong place at the wrong time, his screams and pleads for help still haunt your nightmares, but at the time you were just too afraid of the look Alex gave you, he didn’t even need to threaten you with anything, you knew hell would be released upon you if you didn’t follow his orders.

How you had been able to put up with everything for so long? that’s a question that keeps you up at night; perhaps it was because he knew when to take two steps back with you and treat you just as kindly as he had done in the beginning, it was those moments of fleeting but intoxicating tenderness that kept you by his side, even when you found out he had even cheated on you multiple occasions.

You had broken up with him more than once, but the only thing he needed was to say sorry, get a bit emotional, perhaps even give you some flowers and you’ll be back easily. And in your now torn apart mind, you loved that; the aftermath of the breakup had now become the only moment in the relationship where you were truly happy as sad as that might be.

And now here you are, panicking because two whole months have passed and he hasn’t come to see you.

Yes, it’s true that for the past month and a half you took to visit your sick aunt who lives in another city entirely; not because you cared about her fragile state, at least not entirely (you were hardly familiarized with her, having only seeing her 5 times in your whole life) but because then again, your torn mind found a worryingly amount of pleasure in the thought of Alex finding out about you leaving and then…what he’ll do then when he couldn’t reach you to ask you to take him back? oh, the fantasies your mind infected with both feelings of adoration, sadness and a desire for a bit of vengefulness create; every night as you laid on the sofa near your aunt’s bed you wonder…How did his face look at the moment he found out about your departure? had he brought you your favorite flowers, climbed all the way to your bedroom window only to find nothing? had he threatened your poor brother for information on your whereabouts? and when he denied him such information (as you had instructed him to) would he have grown desperate? paranoid? mad with the idea that perhaps you had found someone else? or maybe, just maybe he finds your location and comes looking for you? you relish on the idea, knowing deep down it’s just not going to happen, it would be too much of an effort and too much of a hit to his ego doing so, but one can dream, right?

But as you arrived back in town you were met with nothing but disappointment; according to your brother, Alex didn't even come to your house much less spoke to him nor your parents, neither he came looking for you the days after; to say that was a low blow to your own ego would be an understatement, and as you sit there, in your pajamas, body almost completely submerged between the sheets and shaking as you allow yourself to snivel, all the while your intrusive thoughts swallow you whole: What did you expect? for him to actually be waiting for you? for him to come running the second you came back? for him to say how much he missed you, how he can’t live without you, how he knows he hurt you once again by cheating on you…again, how he hates seeing you sad and from now on things would really be different this time around? for him to love you? What is there to love? he was right, you were always too dramatic, too sensitive, too weak; he must’ve finally grown tired of you and left to find someone better.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, time hasn’t been something you’re keenly aware of at the moment; it takes you a few seconds to get past the headache that falls over you like a ton of bricks as you open your eyes, you feel your face stiff, probably because of the tears and then slowly begins to dawn on you: faint as ever, a small knock on your bedroom window. You lay still for a few moments, second guessing if what you’re hearing is true or not, only when it happens again is that you’re sure it’s real and as soon as you do, you hurry past your bedsheets, heading straight for the window.

There he is, looking straight at you with an expression you can't quite pinpoint; he’s not wearing that hellish white attire instead opting for regular clothes, his hands in hiding as he tucks them in the pockets of his pants and gives you a small almost invisible smile. It’s a unspoken agreement between the two of you, once he shows up at your window you help him climb up and into your bedroom just like the very first time; and that’s what you do, almost entirely out of instinct you tie and let the large cloth fall so he can make his way to your heart once more.

You find yourself unable to look him in the eye once he’s right in front of you, tension thick in the air you feel unable to breathe properly as his gaze does nothing but seek yours.

“You left this at my home” he finally declares, voice barely above a whisper and you pick up on his serious tone as he abandons his usual cheerful and taunting manner of speech. He presents you with a necklace and as it dangles lightly in front of your face you recognize it: is the necklace he gave you on your 2nd anniversary, he knew you had taken quite a liking to Basil so he gifted you the necklace with a pendant of a snake resembling Basil.

You reach for the necklace in his hand slowly, but he pulls it away lightly before you’re able to take it, this earns him a confused look on your part but alas you’re finally making direct eye contact which is what he was aiming for. You feel as if his vibrant blue eyes bore into your soul and that’s enough for your heart to start beating so loudly it plays into your own ears and as he moves forward you wonder if he can hear it.

He reaches his hand carefully to your hair, lightly brushing it aside as he allows himself to put the necklace on you once more, once he has finished he once again brushes your hair gently back in place all the while maintaining eye contact.

He gazes at you so softly this time, as if even the tiniest speck of dust could break you and sadly enough you feel like it just might. you feel so exhausted as your eyes and chest still burn with pain after crying for so long.

“Darling” he utters in what comes off as a sigh “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you” his words come slowly as he closes the distance between you little by little.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you snort in laughter at those words as you have lost count of how many times he had spoken them; but all that manages to break through is an incredulous smile on your part as you struggle to maintain eye contact once more. He takes note of your expression and acts on it quickly, lifting your face by your chin ever so softly.

“I know I messed up, that I've hurt you, there’s no denying that.” he admits “That’s why I´ve come here, to make things right, to apologize.”

You shake your head slightly, as if in denial and wanting to get rid of all those intrusive thoughts that slowly creep up into your mind as he speaks.

“Love, I am so sorry for what I did to you, to us.” Oh no, here he goes. “I know there’s nothing I can do to change what I did nor can I force you to stay with me after all you’ve been through.” He emphasizes his words as he drips emotion into them, almost as if he is at the verge of sobbing.

“You are the only one who has ever understood and cared for me, no one else has loved me the way you do.” silent tears begin to dance dangerously in the corners of your eyes.

“I didn’t realize just how wonderful I had it with you, you’re probably the only thing I have ever felt this strongly for.” Your eyes betray you and the tears you’ve been holding begin to slip, he catches on quickly and so he places a hand near your cheek and begins to wipe your tears ever so sweetly with his thumb.

“Y/N If your wish is for me to leave you alone, I promise I will do so, even if my heart can’t bear it…but if you allow me, just this once; I swear to you…dearest, I’ll make things better.” The determination in his words paired with that sickly sweet emotional delivery do nothing but disarm you for the final blow.

As he leans forward once more, gently places your head in between his hands and joins your forehead against his while still caressing your cheeks with his thumbs he whispers:

“I love you Y/N.”

And that’s all he needs to break you, you fall apart in his arms as quickly as those words leave his mouth, you’re a bawling mess and somehow you still have tears left to shed.

But you’re not crying because you believe for even a second that what he just said to you is true and you are so touched by it, no, you’re not that foolish. You know better than anyone that those are nothing but empty words, a perfectly timed and rehearsed monologue that he tells to every other girl under his spell the second he starts to feel like they have begun to slip away.

You’re crying because you’re crying because there is no strength left in you to fight back, you’re crying because his affections and the seek for his approval have become like a drug to you, you’re crying because Alex has consumed all of your life at this point, you don't even remember what life before him was like, You’re crying because at this point you’re utterly and completely alone, you abandoned your friends and fractured your family ties so badly nothing would be the same any more, you are crying because you’ll play along in this twisted game he has trapped you in, at least for now; you’re just not ready to let go, not yet; but as you lay there, in the aftermath, as he holds you tightly, you pray one day you will.

#alex delarge #a clockwork orange #alex delarge x reader #Alex DeLarge #Alex DeLarge x reader #alex x reader

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broodsys · 19 days

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got tagged by @plisuu, thank you again! this'll be fun >)

tagging hmmm lemme see... @jazzmckay | @streganicha | @jellydishes but as ever no pressure uwu also trying to not tag Everyone i know so other ppl can continue to pass it around lmao

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

55!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

299,998. okay that's amusing i'm glad i looked. i'm two words away from 300k lmfao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

99% dai, with a tinyyy bit of da2. also one fic (that has totally fucked up my stats page bc it's a much more popular fandom) for pkmn: sun and moon (anime) and one for cagaster of an insect cage (anime). my old deleted ao3 had more fandoms, the other big ones being les mis (movie) and inception

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we're the last to know (pkmn sumo, little cutesy ash/kiawe thing)

sleep just a little longer (solavellan somno smut lmao)

the hidden mage (fenders during dai timeline)

domitable (solavellan smut with solas domming for once)

a matter of taste (solavellan smut where solas is encouraged to figure out his own interests)

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes! sometimes it takes me a bit but i always reply. if it's a long/thoughtful/specific comment i also try to address a bit of what the commenter brings up :')

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh that's maybe a day to die for sure. wrote that back in my first dai hyperfix period after it had come out, this is a bad end au where they get stuck in the magic future

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

my longing series comes to mind. nessa lavellan/solas. it was also my first venture back into seriously writing fic and my first dai fic ever since i got back into my hyperfix :')

8. Do you get hate on fics?

none yet, luckily

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

lmao yes i write so much smut. um... what kind indeed? i'll just say it's very character-driven - not always stuff i'm personally interested in, but hey, if it works for them, good. i shall write the thing. i write a lot of different kinks

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

none i can think of... although i do have an outline for a dragon age characters in the star trek universe fic lmao

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge, but i don't go looking, either

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

one, yes!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no. considered it at times, but it seems kinda awkward

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

all time....? well i'll say that the ship i've sailed the longest has been fenders fr

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

the fucking. cagaster of an insect cage one. god. i keep thinking about it and fanfic is nonexistent so i feel extra compelled to finish my fic for them but i just have like 0 interest. da took my entire brain over (again)

16. What are your writing strengths?

hmm... your boy can sure write some character introspection!!! honestly tho, one of the things i'm proudest about in my writing is my ability to match the tone to the fic or character pov

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action scenes, especially fight scenes :x i can do them but they take soooo much longer than anything else and it's an uphill battle (heh) the whole way

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

while i wouldn't write another real language in fic, if it's a fan language (like project elvhen) then i sometimes include short pieces if they're different from what would normally be spoken. so like... arlathan era fic, no, i'm not going to include stuff from project elvhen bc everyone's speaking elvhen all the time. but if it's during dai era or smth and they're speaking common with the occasional elvhen word/phrase thrown in, then i'd add the word/phrase and define it at the bottom

19. First fandom you wrote for?

da2!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

that's gotta be from my bigfic series, antiquation :') specifically i think part 5, paradigm shift, is my favorite of the whole series uwu

template under the cut!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

#tag meme

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iamstartraveller776 · 3 months

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Getting to Know Me Tag Game

Tagged by @jomiddlemarch. Thank you! <3

1. Were you named after anyone?

Eh...yes and no. I share a middle name with my dad. My first name is because my mom didn't want my nickname (that both she and my dad liked) to be my "legal" name. There is literally one letter difference between the two names and I very, very much prefer my nickname. But she was afraid it sounded too boyish. Jokes on her; I turned out to be a tomboy (as we called it back in the day). Ha!

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last night while watching Where the Crawdads Sing. Such a good film. Heart-rending in all the best ways with a satisfying ending.

3. Do you have kids?

Yep! Six kiddos plus one son-in-law, and soon we're adding a daughter-in-law. I love being a mom.

4. What sports do you/have you played?

I was a competitive swimmer in high school. I competed in breast stroke, butterfly, and in the individual and team medleys (butterfly for the latter). That was a few decades ago. These days I am not athletic at all.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

In fiction, all the time. I love sarcastic characters! In real life, hardly ever. I dabbled with being sassy for a period of time in my life, but it doesn't suit. That doesn't mean I'm not animated or funny or passionate or have a temper. I'm just rarely sarcastic. *shrug*

6. First thing you notice about people?

Eyes. Not the color (though I do notice that too). It's gonna sound cliche, but it really is the gateway to the soul for me. Mannerisms come as a rapid second.

7. What's your eye color?

Warm dark brown—like dark chocolate.

9. Any talents?

Aside from writing, I'm a decent artist. I play piano. I can sing in a choir but I'm not a soloist. I'm good at public speaking. I'm an excellent cross-stitcher. I can also crochet and knit. (Part of this is just living long enough to have varied interests.) The next skill I'm looking to conquer: bookbinding.

10. Where were you born?

Not where I currently live. (I'm going to echo @jomiddlemarch and remind you that it's not a good idea to give away identifying information online.)

11. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, listening to music, cross-stitching

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes. A small snake and a tortoise-shell medium-haired cat. The first we planned for, the latter we received via the universe's cat distribution system.

13. How tall are you?

5'4" (approximately 162-ish cm)

14. Favorite subject in high school?

I didn't have favorite subjects so much as favorite teachers. If I liked the teacher, then I really liked the subject.

15. Dream job?

I'm already living the dream!

Tagging: anyone who wants to play! Consider yourself tagged (and tag me in your post so I can get to know you better)!

#tag games #getting to know me #about me

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iviarellereads · 11 months

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Nona the Ninth, John 15:23(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(No icon) In which two mysteries are explained, and several additional spinoff questions asked (metaphorically).

The first day, A- believes. The second, M- and G-. The third, everyone believes, because his eyes had changed.

He coughed wetly and, once he had recovered, said: A girl in my high school once told me I had pretty eyes. I was puffed up over that until I was like thirty. You wouldn’t believe how stupid guys get over compliments on our looks, I was vain as.(2) But my eyes weren’t anything special—light brown, not even hazel, yellow on a sunny day. The morning after the lights went out they lightened to dark amber, then they went the colour of new lager, and on the third day they were gold.(3) P— said I looked like a Māori TV Pink Panther.(4) C— said I looked like Edward Cullen from that old Twilight movie, if Edward Cullen had the body of a history teacher.(5) A— said I looked cool. He was the only one. He said, And all around us, those corpses refused to rot.(6)

In the dream(7), they walk up a hill of crunchy brown grass. The water below them is rising, but they don't hurry away. He points at things and names them, more for himself than for her benefit.

Someone’s Honda. Someone’s Mazda. Someone’s four-wheel drive.(8) Someone’s shed. A Macca’s sign.(9)

They find a bench to sit on and he cries for a while, unashamed, then continues his story.

Early on, they moved the corpses around a lot to keep them hidden. M- wanted so badly to prove science had either gone terribly right or wrong. They picked two of them, as different in every way down to method of death as they could ensure, and "played dolls with those two kids for a week". Left them in the boiler room, in the morgue, outside in the elements. Their internal temperatures didn't change the whole time. Every corpse stayed absolutely perfect.

John slept in the facility, not wanting to leave. A- and M- moved in with him, and G- slept in his ute.(10) C- moved in with N-. C- and P- got them through the grace period of a month after lights-out, by massaging the interpretation of contracts and dissuading any sort of action against them. It helped that the world was panicking about the collapse, and not looking at them.

John started to realize he could sense where the bodies were. He could tell which one was in which room without looking, even if the rest of the living moved the bodies around without telling him. M- stops worrying about John being high, and starts cooperating with him, so A- takes up the cause of trying to bring him back to sanity. John took comfort in their squabbling, knowing that when they said the same thing, it had to be serious.(11)

He said, I just wanted to be in the lab. It felt like I could sit by those two bodies, those two kids, and make time go away. I could sit next to them for six minutes, I could sit next to them for six hours. Just listening. They were my moreporks(12) and possums. I was hearing their bodies in all that silence, all the bacteria that weren’t growing … what wasn’t building up in the gut, what wasn’t pooling at the joints. They were my silent night.(13)

He doesn't remember how it came together, how he made the final leap of logic.

The two bodies he'd been working with were named U- and T- on their certificates. It didn't seem right to use those names for them without their permission, with what he was going to do next. He was really starting to care about what was appropriate, what they would have wanted.

So, he got M- and A- to come into a room, saying he wanted to introduce them to someone.

So I brought them into the room with the bodies and I was all, Let me introduce you to … Ulysses. Let me introduce you to … Titania.(14)

In the present, he adds that Titania was for Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, but Ulysses was for a dog his nana had when he was young.

She said: “But what about the bodies?” He said, Well. When I said, Ulysses, I moved each of his fingers and his thumb into a fist, curled them into the palm. And when I said, This is Titania, same thing, I placed each of her fingers and her thumb into a fist. And I was laughing and laughing like I’d kicked out a chair before someone sat down. Like, good joke. But M— threw up. “Because, Harrow, I’d done it from the other side of the room.”(15)

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(1) "He that hateth me hateth my Father also." The greater context is Jesus saying that until him, people were not in sin, but now that he has come, if they reject him, they are in sin for it, because those who hate him must also hate God, who is part of him. How might this relate to the chapter's events? Certainly, lots of people are very intent on shutting down John's operation here, in opposition to him and his mission to save... someone. Or, A1Z26 brings us to THETOW. One assumes this won't be about a blond or flax, though, who knows? (Well, I do, but that's beside the point. Oh boy these John chapters are really sending me down some tangent holes in the intros.) (2) If anyone's unfamiliar with this phrasing, it's just leaving off the implied final comparison so the reader/listener can insert their own hyperbole. He was vain as what? As the day is long, as the sun is bright, as the grass is green, whatever you want to think. I'm sure there's a linguistic descriptive term for it but I don't know it offhand and those things can be hard to search for, especially as search engines turn to algorithms and ads over actual helpful use of terms given. (3) So the gold came with the necromancy. Hm. Was it a change in his genes, allowing Gideon to inherit them? Or did she inherit them because of the power even his sperm carried? God-sperm is what put me off finishing The Magicians series, books or TV, and it's a narrow line Muir walks that keeps me going here, alright, but some questions need to be asked, even if we never get a firm answer. (And honestly, I don't think we NEED or even should get an answer to this one. Some things are better left unsaid so we can fill in our own voids.) (4) And confirmation of John's racial background. This is why you'll see a LOT of fanart that looks a lot like Taika Waititi with blackout eyes with eclipse ring irises. (5) Said like someone who thinks a dad bod isn't hot. (Yes, my reasons for these comments are getting extremely silly. I'm having so much fun my cat won't even stay on my lap because I'm giggling too much. I hope you are too.)

(6) Sounds familiar… (Note to self-grab As Yet Unsent link when it goes up… and I might as well leave that note in for posterity's sake so you see the process. Oh yes, I write these well ahead, having a queue is a must when you can sometimes write a whole week's worth of posts in a day, and sometimes can't write a post for a week because brain.) (7) So, these sequences are placed very obviously in the places when Nona falls asleep, rather like Harrow's River bubble dreams in HTN. But, we know THOSE weren't dreams now… but would it be too boring to do the same thing twice? Are these really dreams? Why aren't they Nona's dreams, if they happen when she's sleeping? Last time we saw Harrow she was in an incredibly ambiguous place, not clearly River or real life, but we know her body is inhabited by Nona. (8) So many vehicles. (9) The southern hemisphere's name for McDonald's. (10) Utility vehicle, an SUV or a pickup truck, big enough to set up a bed in or off the back. Though that might not be quite the same sort of vehicles you might think of for those terms in North American markets. (I can personally recommend checking out the Not Just Bikes channel on YouTube for more information on how NA differs in vehicle styles from the rest of the world.) (11) Definitely tracks with the August and Mercy we knew in Harrow, and John's apparent relationship to them. (12) A kind of owl in NZ. (13) I'm reasonably certain this is primarily a reference to the carol, Silent Night, the night of Jesus's birth, the final calm before his life. However, I posit a second meaning. In 1962 a book was published called Silent Spring, by Rachel Carson, about the damage caused by uncontrolled pesticide use in the environment. In 2017, Tyrone B. Hayes and Martin Hansen published a paper titled "From silent spring to silent night: Agrochemicals and the anthropocene", about how humanity is causing a mass extinction. "Silent Spring" was titled to evoke the decline of birds and their song. The "silent night" is used in the paper to evoke the decline of amphibians. I admit this is tenuous as far as connections go, but given the heavy focus on human contribution to the apocalypse? I think it's a reasonable leap to make as far as interpretation, if not intent. "Silent night" because things like the microbial growth and decay are missing, as a sign of something monumental going on behind the scenes.

(14) The names of the Fourth House Lyctor and cavalier. Coincidence? And why would they be uncensored? Perhaps because John gave them those names, versus their... well, their dead names. This is way more than I can unpack in one of these blog posts but I think it's worth thinking about how big the implications of this are. (15) Why is this in quotation marks? What's different about it?

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #emperor john gaius #harrowhark nonagesimus

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