#and I’ve been experimenting with gold leaf on some and that’s turning out really cool so far too!

[rosicheeks]

Can we see the painting you did? 😊

Not the one from tonight but here’s a few I did the other day 🥰

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Twelve: Family

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: THE FINAL CHAPTER! very emotional, new beginnings, bullying mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, allusions to pregnancy.

Word count: 3000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Twelve - Epilogue [coming soon!]

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Maxwell sighed, pacing around in anxious circles. He looked different, in his denim jeans and khaki-green cable knit sweater. It made a change from the oversized powersuits he once donned. Alistair was sat at the dining room table, colouring in, and Max was having a nervous breakdown about getting his haircut. “I’ve had the blonde in for so long.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his shaggy and unstyled hair. When it wasn’t perfectly coiffed, it was wavy and glossy, and smelled distinctly like the freshest green apples. “It’ll be okay. Think of it as washing away all the terrible things that went on in the past and starting anew. Like… turning over a new leaf.” 

You made a very good point. Maxwell knew he had to suck it up and just do it. It would be okay. He didn’t have to be Max Lord anymore, and he didn’t have this television persona to live up to. His main focus now was just being a father, and that’s all that mattered. All he needed to be, was himself. Maxwell Lorenzano.

“Daddy look!” Alistair smiled, waving around the piece of paper he’d spent the morning drawing on. It was stained slightly from his breakfast, and crinkled in the corners for where he’d applied slightly too much pressure when colouring, but all-in-all, it was perfect. Maxwell took the artwork and looked closely at it. Another typical family portrait of you, Alistair and Max. But this time, Maxwell was doting brown hair, and it reminded him of his younger days when he was first starting out as a businessman. “This is how you’ll look when you come home from the salon!”

“Wow Alistair, I love it!” Maxwell praised, unable to contain his grin. He held the portrait to his face and showed it off. “What do you think?” he asked you. “Do you think I’ll look good with the brown hair?” 

You giggled and nodded your head, before pressing the palm of your hand flat against Maxwell’s chest and brushing your lips against his. “You’ll look so handsome, I’m sure.”

“Ew!” Alistair cried, pulling the paper from his father’s hand as you kissed him softly on the lips. The curve of Max’s nose nudged against yours and he laughed at his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” you said, pointing your finger. “You better go. Don’t want to miss your appointment.”

Maxwell nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” he announced.

The second Maxwell left the house, your stomach began to twist. You’d been living at Lord manor for a month now but truthfully, it felt like a lifetime. It felt like you had always been there. You were adjusting to your new life pretty well, but this morning sickness that you had started to get was an unwelcome experience. Amazon’s never got ill, so this was brand new to you, and you weren’t enjoying it one bit.

You rubbed your stomach and took a sip of the glass of water that you’d been nursing. Sliding down to sit next to Alistair, you watched as he finished his drawing, adding a few final perfections. Once it was done, you hung it to the refrigerator and praised him for his hard work.

“Ali, why don’t you grab your shoes and we’ll have a walk down to the Smithsonian?” you smiled, grabbing your jacket that was hanging over the kitchen door.

“Ooh! Is there a new exhibition?” He enquired curiously, hopping onto his feet and fastening his shoe laces.

“I don’t think so,” you admitted sheepishly. “I have to go meet with some friends.”

Taking the bus was a new experience for both you and Alistair. Joe, Maxwell’s driver, would normally drive Alistair around to and from places. But not today. The bus was slightly smelly and the seats were sticky, but by the looks of it, Alistair was having the time of his life. He pointed out the window, grinning, and talked to you about all the different D.C. landmarks the both of you passed as you were driven into the city centre. He might have only been six years old, but that was six years of living in the world of man. You’d only been here for a month, and so Alistair could teach you a lot. 

Driving past the park, Alistair gasped, and shuffled into your body. “That’s the park where we first met,” Alistair pointed. You narrowed your eyes as you took in the sight of tall green trees and shrubbery. He was right. “Do you remember that day? You were wearing an awesome superhero costume like something out of my comic books. And you wore a tiara, and I asked if you were a princess. And you scared my bullies away, and helped me look for dad.”

“I remember.” you smiled, ruffling Alistair’s dark hair.

You remembered asking Alistair what his father looked like, and the only thing the boy could say was ‘strong, cool, and the best dad in the world’. Counting your lucky stars, you were so thankful you had found your forever family. You had come so far from that moment.

“Did you ever tell daddy… about those bullies in the park?” Alistair asked you hesitantly, his voice suddenly small and timid.

You pulled off him and looked him in the eyes. “No. Why?”

Alistair paused for a moment and glanced back out the window. “I was afraid he’d be disappointed in me.”

Your heart shattered in your chest. “Ali,” you said quietly, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Your father could never, ever be disappointed in you. You know that, yes?”

Alistair nodded his head silently.

“He loves you so much,” you continued. “And the whole bullying thing… I think he’d understand better than anyone else.”

You remembered all the visions you had of Maxwell, even seeing him as a child at one point. You remembered him wearing rugged clothes that were too small for him and how he was picked on for his broken shoes. 

“Really? You think so?” Alistair asked.

“I know so,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss into Alistair’s hair. “Those bullies will never amount to anything if they continue doing what they’re doing. But you are so much better than them. Stronger. Your power lies in your heart, and in the truth, and in love.”

Alistair smiled. “You’re a real hero, aren’t you?”

“We’re all heroes.”

————

Yourself, Maxwell and Alistair loved trips to the Smithsonian. Diana always organised special access for the three of you, to go after hours when the entire museum was empty. Alistair was admiring the fish in the aquarium, when you noticed Barbara and Diana, and waved them over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Diana smiled.  

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” you explained. “Uhm, actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You pulled Diana to one side and left Barbara with Alistair. “Remember how you said ‘I owe you one’, since I like… got your girlfriend to renounce her wish and kinda helped you save the world by destroying the second dreamstone?” you grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.

Diana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you plotting?”

“Max has been… worried, to say the least. We’re going to have to sell Black Gold and it’s a real shame because-- he worked so hard on it. We have some money and well, I haven’t exactly ran this by him yet but I was thinking about investing what we do have into the Smithsonian. Just like what Maxwell promised to do in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Diana sighed. “The gemology department is doing just fine.”

You shook your head, your smile only growing. “No Di, that’s not what I was getting at. How would you feel about… expanding the gemology department?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“I’ve heard Barbara talk about how there’s a lack of space to facilitate all the rocks and stones the Smithsonian keeps bringing in. She has a real fear that the entire paleontology department could be shut down and replaced with something else.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s true…”

“So what if we use the Black Gold building as an extension for the Smithsonian, and have it specialise in all these fancy rocks and gems and stones. We could transport everything over and then we could utilize the leftover funds that Maxwell has, to keep all the palaeontologists and geologists employed. Hell, with a whole new building, we could even create more jobs for people. It would also mean that we wouldn’t have to fire Max’s old employees and-- Oh Di, I just know Max would love it. He really does have a passion for gemology. And his son, Ali… he has an interest too.”

“So I heard,” Diana rolled her eyes, but, to be frank, she liked what you were getting at. An expansion wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing… “It’s a big responsibility though, and it seems you haven’t even spoken to Maxwell about it. You would get funding from the Smithsonian as an institution, yes, but… it would still be Max’s business. Do you really think he could handle that? After what happened to his last business?”

“He’s smart,” you assured her. “And he’s a good businessman. He knows all these things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Last time he just got unlucky. But this, this could really be something great. We have the building, and the passion, and enough money to get started. Please Diana… I know you could make this happen. Please.”

Diana spent a moment pondering the possibilities before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “Alright,” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You grinned and squealed excitedly, wrapping your arms around your half sister and squeezing her tight. “Thank you Di!” She laughed and rubbed your back before you pulled off her. “Oh, and Di… there’s one more thing.”

Diana tilted her head and gazed at you with fresh bewilderment. Looking around the museum to make sure no one was around to hear what you had to say, you leaned into the Amazon and whispered a confession you’d been keeping to yourself for the past month. 

————

Maxwell sat in the chair and frowned upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. “What can I do for you?” asked the stylist as she smacked her lips on a piece of gum. Max wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to do this, until he remembered your words. This was ‘turning over a new leaf’-- a new start and fresh beginnings. 

“Uh, a trim please,” Maxwell requested before taking a shaky exhale. It was now or never, he just had to take the leap. “No, that’s not everything,” he sighed. “Could you perhaps take the blonde… out of my hair?” The question left his lips with an air of unsurity. Could one even do that? Take the colour out of hair?

“You want the colour stripped?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maxwell supposed that was one way of putting it.

“Yes, I do.” he confirmed.

The stylist processed Maxwell’s words for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “As you wish.”

As the stylist wrapped Max’s shaggy golden locks into foil, he closed his eyes. He’d come so far since the whole dreamstone debacle. His whole life had been a rollercoaster of up and down events but now, finally, things were evening out for him -- in the best way possible. He’d fallen in love and secured his family and home. The only thing he was mildly worried about, was the issue with Black Gold. But he knew that he’d somehow figure it out, especially now that he had you by his side to help him.

He’d always seen himself as an independent man. He fought hard to be as successful. He escaped his hometown, his abusive father, he ran away from poverty and was discriminated against by upper class white businessmen who told him he could never amount to anything. He proved all of them wrong. Because now, he had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need stacks of money or material possessions when he had you and Alistair. Maybe he wasn’t as independent as he once thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the company of others. He liked having you and his son around.

In his fight for wealth and success, he’d lost everything that mattered the most. But most importantly, he had lost himself. Maxwell swore that he’d never let that happen again.

As the stylist removed the silver foil from his hair, Maxwell nervously anticipated the result. His once bottle blonde hair was now a chocolate brown colour, and it reminded him distinctly of his youth. Max couldn’t help but feel like he looked younger, and he wasn’t going to complain about that. 

He just hoped you liked it as much as he did.

————

“I just don’t understand why mommy is taking so long,” Alistair grumbled as he and Barbara waited outside the ladies restroom. “And why did auntie Diana have to go into the toilet with her?”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “You’re inpatient, just like your dad.”

Impatience must’ve run in the family because you were sitting on the toilet seat, tapping your food as anxiety flooded your body. You didn’t expect to be this nervous. You’d wanted a child for so long -- in fact, your whole life to be exact. But now that there was a chance of it actually happening, you were beyond terrified. Maybe it was the fact Maxwell didn’t know about your symptoms, but you knew better than to feel alone. You were never going to be alone.

“How long left?” you asked Diana, who checked her wristwatch. It was an antique from the early 1900’s, something very special and something she kept very close to her heart.

“It should be ready now.” she told you, handing you the stick you had just peed on.

“I don’t want to look.” you squirmed, covering your face with your hands.

“Wow,” Diana hummed, her jaw parting slightly when she took in the results. 

“Wh-- what is it?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re pregnant.”

————

When Maxwell came home, you were shocked to say the least. His brown hair was absolutely gorgeous, and it suited him better than you’d expected. The deep shade was identical to the colour in his sparkling eyes. Jokingly, he tossed his hair and you let out a laugh.

“I was right,” you giggled, running your fingers through his locks. “So handsome.”

“I love it daddy!” Alistair cheered.

“Thanks buddy,” Maxwell grinned. “I like it too.”

Taking a deep breath, you took Max’s hand and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet in there -- the perfect place to tell Maxwell your news. It had been a nostalgic day, and even standing in the living room reminded you of the time Max first brought you home. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked you, slightly concerned. But your warm smile soon eased him. You felt the need to wrap your arms around him and envelop him into a hug. Max had taken a big step today, and you were proud of him, but now it was your moment. It was now or never.

Harnessing every ounce of confidence within you, you took his hands and looked him in the eye. “Max, I’m pregnant.”

Max’s brown eyes widened and he was completely lost for words. “I-- you-- you’re--”

“Yes.” you smiled, taking his hands and placing them on your stomach.

His shocked expression turned into an elated grin as he processed the good news. “You’re really--”

“I am.” you confirmed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Maxwell so happy in your life. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he was afraid to let you go. He swore in that moment he would never leave you, or his growing family, ever again.

This was it for him.

This was the start of Maxwell Lorenzano’s new life.

————

THE END.

————

Author’s Note: “I won’t cry” she says while sobbing into her Google Docs document. Thank you all for reading I Believe In Love. It’s a story I have wanted to share with you since I saw WW84 in the theatre, and I just can’t believe it’s finally over. This fic will always have a special place in my heart. The themes and plot points mean so much to me, but not only that, I’ve had the most amazing feedback on this fic and I will honestly cherish that for the rest of my life. I poured my heart and soul into writing I Believe In Love and it honestly one of my biggest comforts. I want you all to know that an epilogue is coming and if you have any requests for these characters I have created, feel free to send them my way. I adore my Amazon Goddess!Reader and I would absolutely love to continue their story at some point in the future. If you’ve followed me on this journey over the past four months, all I can really say is thank you. I love you so so much.

————

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I Believe In Love taglist: [in the replies!]

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Same Path Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Gavin’s Qixi Collection: Date / Call 1 ♡ / Call 2 / Records / Event / Special Call

Legend has it that the Qilin is a lucky beast. If you can obtain a Qilin, all bad luck will be eliminated. 

MC: Does the Qilin really exist...

Before me is a towering mountain. I’ve walked for four days and four nights in order to get here. 

The elder of the temple had pointed to this mountain on a map and told me that if I crossed this path, I’d be able to see a Qilin.

MC: May the gods bless me, that I may find the Qilin soon. Otherwise...

I take a deep breath, entering this legendary mystical mountain. 

The mountain is incredibly quiet and deep, and it looks as though no one has ever visited. 

After exerting much strength, I only manage to climb halfway. I lean against a tree and gasp for breath, patting my grumbling stomach. 

MC: So hungry... and I’ve finished the food I brought...

When I raise my head, I see something gleaming not too far away. Curious, I walk over. 

MC: It’s a pond!

Schools of red carp swim unhurriedly in the clear water. 

MC: Great! I wouldn’t have to worry about being hungry now!

I carefully bunch up my skirt, stepping barefoot into the stream. 

There used to be a small stream in the village where I would often fish. My skills can finally come in handy.

Sunlight wisps down the shadows of trees. In the cool water, I hold my breath and bend down, stealthily approaching a fish which is swimming slowly. 

Plong--

A small stone flies through the air and pelts into the water. The fish disappears in an instant. 

MC: ! 

MC: Where did that stone come from?

I scan my surroundings, but fail to find anything out of the ordinary.

Not giving much thought to it, I once again focus on my grand undertaking of catching a fish.

Another red carp swims over to my feet lazily. Perhaps due to the sparse number of visitors, these fish aren’t very wary of humans. 

MC: Since you bumped into me yourself, you can’t blame me.

I stretch out my hands joyfully, the tip of my nose almost smelling the scent of grilled fish. 

Plong--

With another soft sound, a stone accurately plops near my feet, channelling a wave of ripples. 

The red carp immediately swims away.

MC: Who is it?!

I turn around angrily, certain that someone is causing trouble for me. 

The trees in the mountain are lush, and everything is so calm and quiet that even the sound of a falling leaf can be heard clearly.

MC: You better show yourself obediently. When I catch you, you’re doomed!

I roll up my sleeves fiercely, preparing to return to the shore. However, I end up stepping into mud.

MC: !

My body lurches forward. In the middle of my panic, I see a white figure flashing across the green mountains and forests. 

The bamboo forest sways, and a soft robe brushes across my cheek. My waist is held firmly by a pair of arms. 

At this moment, my five senses are amplified. Water flows underneath my feet, and I smell a clear and cold breath. I blink, shifting the sleeves away from my face.

And I meet a pair of amber eyes.

The wind coursing through the South Mountain, the leaves falling into the pond, and thousands of sceneries all pause before him, becoming accompaniments to his wilful eyes.

MC: ...who are you?

??: The person you were looking for just now.

He places me on the shore before looking me up and down.After verifying that I’m harmless, he turns around to leave. 

MC: Hey, young gentleman.

[Trivia] MC calls him 公子 (“gong zi”), which typically refers to a pampered son of a wealthy family.

I stop him.

MC: Thank you for just now!

??: It was no trouble. There’s no need for thanks. 

MC: Are you looking for the Qilin too?

??: No.

His response is short, but he suddenly pauses in his steps after brushing past me.

??: You're injured.

MC: Hm?

Following his line of sight, I discover that the sole of my foot had been cut by something at some point, and is currently bleeding. 

MC: It hurts!

??: ...you didn’t seem to feel it just now. 

MC: It suddenly started hurting once you mentioned it. 

??: ...

He squats down, signalling that I should show him my calf. 

MC: Young gentleman, you-

While checking my wound, he interrupts me. 

??: My name is Gavin. 

He applies some medicinal herbs. When he lifts his head to look at me, the gold coloured ornament used to tie his hair glints with a brilliant light. 

Gavin: I’m not called “young gentleman”.

-

Once my wound has been wrapped, Gavin stands and casts me a glance.

Gavin: The water here has poison in it. If you aren’t careful, the poison will spread even further. Even though your wound isn’t serious, it’s better to rest for a while before moving again. 

MC: All right... um... Gavin.

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: Why didn’t you let me catch the fish here? 

Gavin: All the living creatures on this mountain have a certain spirituality. It’s best not to disturb them.

MC: But...

I can’t help but swallow my saliva, rubbing my stomach which has been starving since this morning. I raise my head and toss Gavin a pitiful glance.

MC: You can’t bear to see these spiritual fish get eaten, but you can bear to see an innocent young lady starve to death on this deep mountain?

Gavin: ...

Gavin: You can choose to leave this place.

Rays of light break free from the dense leaves, illuminating Gavin’s face.

Gavin: There’s a village not far from the bottom of the mountain. Head down the mountain now, and you should make it in time for dinner. 

Gavin’s indifferent expression tells me that I wouldn’t get to eat grilled fish today.

MC: Sigh, I guess there’s no other choice then. 

I scan my surroundings, then bend down to pluck a dandelion. I eat the dandelion puff, and a faint sweet scent of greenery diffuses in the air.

Gavin’s eyebrows arch upwards involuntarily, and shock flashes in his eyes. 

Gavin: Human... [coughs], why do you eat everything?

MC: It’s nothing to fuss about. You don’t allow me to catch fish, so I have no choice but to pluck these dandelions to eat. This much is allowed, right?

There are many dandelions in the area behind Gavin. Perhaps this mountain is truly filled with aura. They are much bigger than normal dandelions. 

MC: It’s not convenient for me to move with my leg in this state. Could you help me pluck a few? They’re just behind you.

I lean over to point, but Gavin suddenly turns his head, finally looking at me seriously for the first time. 

Gavin: Are you sure you want to stay here? 

MC: Of course. I already said that I'm here to look for the Qilin. I won’t leave until I find it.

Gavin lowers his eyes slightly and looks at me, a few strands of hair falling on the side of his face. 

Gavin: These are not the only edible things on the mountain. Once your leg recovers, I’ll take you to find other kinds of food. By then, if you still want to search for the Qilin, I’ll bring you there.

-

MC: Are the fruits on this tree green plums?

Looking at the tree filled with green plums, I turn around excitedly and ask.

[Trivia] Plums symbolise perseverance, hope, and beauty thriving in adversity. As plum trees blossom between two seasons, it is also seen as a symbol of spring - bringing warmth, transition, and the promise of fruitfulness.

Slight hesitation flashes across Gavin’s eyes.  

Gavin: They should be. 

He reaches out, plucks a few, and hands them to me. 

Gavin: Try it. 

Not putting much thought into it, I take the fruit from his hand. After wiping it on my sleeve, I take a bite. 

MC: Oo!

Gavin: How is it? 

MC: It’s so sour!

I cover my face to hide my expression, which I’ve lost control of due to the sourness of the fruit. I splutter, making “pooh, pooh” sounds. 

MC: This fruit is obviously not ripe yet!

A smile flashes in Gavin’s eyes, but he conceals it with a cough. 

Gavin: Is it very sour? 

He holds up a fruit and gives it a bite. Then, he nods. 

Gavin: It is pretty sour. 

MC: ...

My eyes trail from the silver coloured patterns on his clothes to the expensive-looking jade ring on his waist. I sigh knowingly.

MC: So you’re truly a son from a noble family. Just from a glance, I can already tell you haven’t gone through many troubles in life. 

I mutter softly, and Gavin casts a glance at me. 

Gavin: What did you say? 

MC: Ah, nothing much. 

He looks exquisite - probably a noble son from a family near the mountain, which explains why he doesn’t have experience differentiating sweet and sour fruits.

I raise the green fruit in front of Gavin, and speak in a serious tone. 

MC: These types of green, hard fruits are not ripe. You can’t eat them. Next time, don’t eat them by mistake. They’re really sour. 

With an exaggerated expression, I spend a long time explaining this to Gavin.

Gavin watches me. Sunlight pours down on us, illuminating his smiling side profile.

Gavin: Mm, I got it. 

His eyes seem to contain the entire amber of summer. Even if he simply looks at me with a glance as light as the wind and clouds, it’s enough for me to get lost in them. 

MC: Gavin, why did you agree to look for the Qilin? 

Gavin: You’re very persistent. 

Gavin: I’ve never met someone who would put so much effort into a legend, so... persistent. 

For some reason, Gavin’s face turns a faint red when he says this. 

MC: Your face seems to have turned red? 

Gavin: You misperceived.

He coughs, then turns his head slightly. 

Gavin: I remember that in the legend, only people who have crossed the Southern Border at the top of the mountain can find the Qilin.

MC: Mm, that’s right. But this legend is only found in the ancient books of the temple. How did you know about this?

Gavin doesn’t respond, walking in front of me. 

Gavin: I’m the only one who is familiar with this terrain. Let’s go, I’ll take you to the top of the mountain.

-

MC: We should be reaching soon, right? We've been walking for so long. 

Gavin: It will be in front after we cross this mountain stream. 

With the tips of his toes, Gavin flies across the river surface, leaving me stunned at the other side of the river. 

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: ...have you ever considered that not everybody has your skills. For example, me.

Separated by the swift current and steep rocks, Gavin and I look at each other. 

Finally, Gavin reaches out his hand to me. 

Gavin: I’ll catch you from here. You just have to take the first step. 

MC: Y-you said it. You definitely have to catch me. 

Trembling, I take the first step. My toes touch a stone in the water. 

Gavin stands on the other side of the river, maintaining his posture of reaching out to me. Separated by the water, his gaze gives me an incomparable peace of mind.

At this moment, the stone underneath my foot starts to loosen.

MC: Ah-

I frantically attempt to stabilise myself, but lose my balance and am about to fall into the water. 

Gavin: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Don’t panic.

Along with his voice, he stands on the stone in the middle of the river, wrapping me entirely in his arms.

MC: Phew... that scared me. 

Gavin: Are you very frightened?

I look up from his arms, and see an almost-smirk on his face. 

MC: Such a deep river - it’d be strange if I wasn’t frightened. 

Gavin: I see.

MC: Huh? 

Gavin: You have been pulling on my clothes. And you haven’t loosened your grip even till now. 

Only now do I realise that both my hands are gripping onto Gavin’s clothes tightly. Because of the amount of force exerted, his clothes have gotten ruffled, revealing his nice chest. 

I hurriedly avert my eyes, my face turning red. 

MC: [coughs] That is... I’m sorry.

I hurriedly retract my hands, following Gavin as we step onto the final path.

-

Gavin: We’re here. This is the other side of the mountain. 

Gavin turns around. The look in his eyes carry a certain peace and quiet, as though he has known the answer from the start. 

Gavin: Looking at this, are you disappointed? 

At the other side of the mountain, there isn’t a Qilin beast. There isn’t even a pathway.

What’s in front of me is a cliff of ten thousand feet. An ancient wind brushes past my dress, as though mocking humans for overestimating their strength.

MC: So, a legend is just a legend...

While I speak, a sudden wave of dizziness overcomes me. My vision becomes blurry, and even Gavin turns into several shadows. 

I try to stabilise myself, but countless images of dandelions appear in front of my eyes. I suddenly recall the dandelion I ate in the afternoon.

MC: Gavin... I think the dandelions here are poisonous...

Before I can finish speaking, I feel like a bow snapped into two. Suddenly, I fall off the side of the cliff.

The howling wind sweeps past my ears. My arms hit the sharp rocks, drawing long streaks of blood. 

The sky grows increasingly distant, and there’s a burgeoning fear in my heart.

Gavin: Hold onto me tightly!

Suddenly, a white figure steps off the cliff, catching me while I’m in the abyss.

MC: Gavin...

Under the Baizhang Cliff, the hand Gavin holds mine with is searing and powerful.

But my eyes involuntarily fall onto the horns that have appeared on his forehead. 

They are golden coloured, and have an ornamentation I have never seen before. 

I clearly remember what was written in the ancient books of the temple--

In the South Mountain, the Qilin appears from the cliffs. The Qilin has horns on its forehead. It circles the clouds, and the world is peaceful.

It turns out I had already found the Qilin from the very start.

Gavin: It’s okay now. I’ll bring you up.

Gavin carries me up into the clouds. I feel the poison spreading in my body, and I'm unable to make a sound. I lean into Gavin’s arms and lose consciousness. 

-

By the time I wake up, the moon is already at its peak. I open my eyes, and what I see is clothing with silver patterns.

MC: !!!

I��m sleeping in Gavin’s arms!

Gavin is leaning against a rock, his large clothes wrapping me in his arms. 

I turn my head slightly. His hand is supporting the back of my head, and he looks to be in a light sleep. 

My movements cause him to stir. A pair of brilliant eyes, which opened suddenly, look into mine. 

Gavin: Don’t move. Your poison has just been detoxified. 

His voice sounds a little weak. 

I touch his hand, and it’s extremely cold. 

MC: Gavin, were you the one who detoxified the poison?

Gavin: It happened too suddenly. I gave you my blood to drink.

His right hand is hidden under his large sleeve, and I can only see some traces of blood. 

His face is as pale as snow, and I feel worried. 

MC: How... much blood did you let me drink? Why is your face so pale? 

Gavin looks at me, revealing a slightly resigned smile in his eyes.

Gavin: Not much. I have a unique physical state, so my wounds don’t heal easily. It’s difficult to stop the bleeding.

So what’s written in the ancient books is true. While the Qilin is a harbinger of auspiciousness, it also bears the consequence - the slightest wound would lead to unstoppable bleeding. 

Even though he already knew this would happen, he still helped me detoxify the poison, even though we simply met by chance. 

Noise resounds from beneath the mountain, and several flaming torches gather on the mountain path.

??: There was a sudden golden light on this mountain today. The Qilin must have appeared! This time, we must definitely find it. Only then can we save our village!

Hearing this, I’m shocked.

The people from the temple arrived so quickly...

As the lights linger, Gavin straightens up, his eyes cold.

Looking at his pale complexion and the traces of blood on his sleeve, I block his path.

Gavin: What’s wrong? 

MC: I know that you’re the Qilin.

I stare straight at Gavin. 

Gavin: So? 

Several images flash across my mind--

The moment he flew down and carried me in his arms. The seriousness on his face when he squatted down and tended to my wound. The cold wind under the steep cliff...

MC: So, let me help you.

Gavin lowers his eyes slightly and looks at me, a complex emotion in his eyes. 

Gavin: I don’t need your help. Those mortals at the foot of the mountain were sent by the temple. They have always been searching for the Qilin. The scent on your body is the same as theirs. You’re from the temple too, aren’t you.

The trees are silent. The cold moon makes no sound. The god I’ve been searching for is standing before me, robes stained with the heavy night. 

Right now, I have so many things to say. But under Gavin’s penetrating gaze, I only convey one thought.

MC: When you rescued me, I decided to stop looking for the Qilin. I... I never wanted to hurt you.

There’s a subtle movement in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Something occurs to me then, and I can’t help but ask softly.

MC: So from the moment I stepped into this mountain, you already knew who I was... Then why did you still help me find the Qilin? And why did you rescue me? And reveal your real identity in front of me... Weren’t you afraid that I’d be conspiring with them...

Gavin: I wasn’t afraid.

He stares at me. His pale face doesn’t hide his sarcasm. 

Gavin: For thousands of years, you weren’t the only one to climb the mountain in search of the Qilin. But no one ever found it. Why do you think this is so?

His eyes cut through the night and pause on my face. His tone is calm. 

Gavin: Taking you to look for the Qilin was merely to let you lose hope early and return home. Revealing my true identity in front of you later on... that was something I didn’t expect. 

In that moment, I understand everything. 

As long as he doesn’t take the initiative to get close to humans, even if thousands and ten thousands of years pass, no one will be able to find the Qilin.

A god who could have chosen to hide away had rescued me multiple times. He saved me - someone who was looking for him as well. 

The thoughts in my heart become increasingly resolute. I meet Gavin’s eyes and say firmly.

MC: Since that’s the case, let me help make the Qilin remain a legend forever.

Gavin is slightly shocked, but he quickly turns his head, rejecting me.

Gavin: No. If you help me, the people from the temple will make things difficult for you.

MC: That wouldn’t happen. I’m the temple elder’s only direct disciple. I have a pretty high position, so no one will make things difficult for me. As long as I say that I couldn’t find the Qilin, they will leave.

I pat my shoulder, pretending that it would be an easy feat. 

With my slightly anxious expression, Gavin finally agrees. 

Gavin: All right. I trust you. But you have to guarantee your own safety.

I nod vigorously.

He takes off the jade ring on his waist and places the warm and clean jade ornament into my hand. 

Gavin: No matter what, this time, you’re the one saving me. If there are any wishes you want fulfilled, just shatter it, and I will appear.

Gavin’s eyes are searing, and his tone is serious.

Gavin: Trials and hardships are inevitable.

I keep the jade ornament. As the noises draw closer, I take a few steps forward, but can’t help tossing a final glance at Gavin.

He looks at me from afar under the moonlight. The bamboo leaves are flying, softening his outline. 

[Trivia] In ancient China, jade was worth more than gold. It’s more a symbol of virtue than a mere accessory. Jade is believed to bring people good luck, and protect its owner.

-

I walk out of the forested area and see the people from the temple. 

People from the temple: MC! How was it? Have you been to the top of the mountain? Did you see the Qilin?

Hidden under my sleeve, I grip the jade ring tightly. I pretend to look extremely disappointed. 

MC: I didn’t... there’s only a cliff at the top of the mountain, and nothing else. 

People from the temple: A cliff! The records in the ancient books were actually wrong?

I never tell lies, so they accept this information easily. However, the person standing at the forefront suddenly turns to me, his tone serious.

Person: MC, the elder already said that if we can’t find the Qilin, you will have to be the Guardian of the temple. You will have to bless the village day and night in the temple. Do you remember that?

I nod slowly.

MC: I remember.

When we leave, I turn back towards the mountain. 

MC: In the future, in this lifetime, we will probably not have the chance to meet again. Take care, Gavin.

-

Once we return, I’m locked in the temple. 

A long time passed after that, and I got used to being accompanied by ancient books from the temple every day.

Outside the window, the moonlight is slightly cool. I retrieve the jade ornament, looking at it closely under the moonlight. 

MC: I wonder how Gavin is doing now...

There is a sudden gust of wind. I hurry to close the window, and the jade ornament I left at the side gets blown to the ground, shattering into two halves.

MC: Why is it broken!

I hastily reach out to pick up the jade ring, but the wind has become so strong that I can no longer move. 

The wind grows increasingly louder, causing leaves to rustle. Before my eyes, a gigantic golden mark suddenly appears. 

It appears one stroke at a time, and looks very ostentatious. 

The wind chimes under the eaves make a final sound, bringing with it the faraway echo from the distant valley. 

Gavin: It’s finally broken.

I lift my head in shock.

The crescent moon hangs in the sky. The wide leaves on the ancient trees sway with a cold shadow. 

A youth dressed in white leans against the eaves, a wine flask casually placed on his curved leg. His head tilts as he looks at me. 

His other hand holds onto the shattered jade ring. 

Gavin: Have you thought of a wish? 

Stunned, my head looks towards the man underneath the moon.

MC: Gavin...

With a soft laugh, Gavin tilts his head upwards and finishes the wine in his hand. Then, he flies down in front of me. 

Gavin: Mm, it’s me. 

He looks me up and down, then furrows his brows slightly. 

Gavin: You’ve been locked in? 

MC: Mm... not really. There was a flood disaster. I failed to bring the Qilin back to eliminate bad luck, so I have to be in the temple to use my power and pray for the village. 

Gavin: Back then, on the mountain, you didn’t tell me that you’d be confined once you came back.

MC: That’s because I was worried you wouldn’t let me help if I mentioned it...

Gavin watches me silently. Moonlight, like a light summer breeze, falls on the corners of his eyes and brows.

Gavin: Why would you help me when you would be locked up? Simply because I rescued you? 

MC: Isn’t such a reason enough?

Gavin: It’s not enough. You sacrificed your freedom. It’s too heavy a price to pay.

Gavin’s eyes are incomparably clear and bright. The gaze of his lowered eyes appear as though he’s looking at me for the very first time. 

Gavin: Why would you do it? 

Gavin’s face is illuminated by the candlelight. His gaze brings with it persistence, and also warmth.

The wind flips through pages of a book on the table. A little panicked, I hold up the book to cover my face, wanting to conceal the inexplicable emotions in my heart.

MC: T-there’s no reason. I just didn’t want you to be discovered by them. 

With his line of sight blocked by the book, Gavin doesn’t speak. After a long time, his voice sounds in the quietness. 

Gavin: “A handful of firewood is tied together, and the stars in the sky are shining. What kind of night is tonight? Can I see my beloved?”

[Trivia] I provided a very loose translation of what Gavin says, which is: 绸缪束薪, 三星在天, 今夕何夕, 见此良人.

It’s part of a poem from 诗经 (”shi jing” - “the book of songs”)

There are split views on what this poem means, but many scholars believe this poem celebrates a wedding, where both parties are teasing each other in the bridal chamber.

MC: !

I hurriedly set down the book, and realise Gavin is slowly reciting the poem on the page I accidentally flipped open. 

MC: ...if you know the meaning of it, then read it to somebody else. 

Gavin leans against the window, his eyes shifting from the book to me. 

The night is beautiful, and the galaxy seems to be within reach. 

Gavin: Of course I do. But you moved too quickly, and I didn’t get to see the next line. What is the next line?

He has a serious expression on his face, as though he genuinely wants to know what the next line is, and nothing more.

It was just a random poetry collection I had read when I was bored. To think the wind would blow the pages to this particular one...

This is a poem written for a lover. And I’ve never read it to anyone before. 

A corner of my heart feels a slight tug. I don’t dare to look at Gavin’s face. With my eyes lowered, I recite softly--

MC: "I want to ask you - how does one kiss this beloved person?”

[Trivia] This is very loose translation of what MC says, which is: 子兮子兮，如此良人何?

As mentioned earlier, this poem is meant to convey the warm, sweet love between newlyweds.

I feel a sudden, gentle touch on my forehead. Widening my eyes, I lift my head and watch as Gavin takes the book and looks at me with a bright smile.

Gavin: Your wish - I have heard it clearly. Wait for me. 

-

It has been several days since Gavin left. 

I heard that an oracle spoke to the elder of the temple one night, and he released me.  

As such, I am no longer locked up in the temple, and only have to make blessings at the temple from time to time. 

But one thing has been out of the ordinary.

MC: No way, I just wanted to plant some flowers. Why did I dig out gold? 

Weakly, I pick up the gold piece. This has happened numerous times. 

Ever since Gavin and I parted, I tend to meet with “good luck”.

While I’m looking at the gold piece in distress, I hear a commotion from afar.

??: The flood has subsided! The flood has subsided! 

The elderly woman from next door is walking back from the field, her face filled with unparalleled joy. 

MC: Granny Tian, what happened? 

Granny Tian: MC, the flood has subsided! 

MC: What?!

Granny Tian: It must be the protection from the gods. Last night, a gigantic rock suddenly fell from the South Mountain, forcing the river to change course. Because of this, the flood is gone!

MC: South Mountain... the river changing course... could it be Gavin? 

Granny Tian: What? Who’s Gavin?

I immediately find an excuse as a cover. 

Not long after, the village hosted a grand festival to commemorate the resolution of the flood.

-

I walk into the crowd wearing a white curtain hat, and I can see joyful faces and blooming fresh flowers. 

The weather is fine, and dandelion flowers are floating in the wind. 

On the altar of the temple, the elders have completed the sacrificial ceremony. A few young women wearing curtain hats are rushing to the altar. After placing all kinds of personal items on it, they pray devoutly. 

This is a very ancient custom. It is said that on this day of the festival, the gods will hear the voices from mortals.

Which is why females like praying to the gods on this day in hopes of obtaining their beloved.

Young lady: With blessings from the gods, may I meet the husband I am longing for...

After observing for a while on a lower platform, I’m just about to turn around and leave when a young lady calls out to me from the altar.

Young lady: Sister MC! You’re from the temple, so your prayers will definitely be effective. This is a rare festival - why not give it a try as well?

MC: I...

Although I initially want to refuse, the encouragement from the women nearby leaves me no choice but to step up to the altar in resignation. 

I place the shattered jade ring on the altar, close my eyes, and make a pious prayer. 

MC: May my homeland experience good weather from now onwards, and may my loved ones be together. May... my beloved person live a safe and smooth, worry-free life. 

Suddenly, a faraway wind courses past, stirring my heart.

The wind pauses before me, then envelops me, lifting me up gently.

A huge, golden coloured mark appears in the air. This time, I can see the pattern clearly. 

It’s a Qilin, surrounded by auspicious clouds. 

At some point in time, Gavin has appeared in the air, his white clothes making a rustling sound, like a god descending from the heavens.

The young women standing near the altar look towards Gavin, utterly flabbergasted. Then, they hastily kneel on the ground, trembling while asking with excitement.

Young lady: Great god, have you graced our mortal realm after hearing our calls? 

Gavin’s eyebrows arch upwards, and his lips curl into a smile. 

Gavin: I am not a god. And I didn’t come because I heard a call.

His clothes drift in the air, his hair ornament reflecting a brilliant light. 

Gavin: I hurried across the mountains and rivers over a thousand miles, just for one person.

Flowers fall out of my basket, scattering all around. 

I fall into Gavin’s embrace. He holds onto me firmly, and I am encased by his clean and cool breath, which brings with it an ancient wind from the mountains.

My curtain hat is blown up by the wind. I frantically reach out for it. When I turn my head, I see Gavin’s smile. 

Gavin: The flood has been resolved. Your mission is completed. 

I nod my head nervously. Gavin sees this and lets out a laugh.

Gavin: Do you still remember the wish you made that night? 

I look into Gavin’s charming eyes, my heart beating like a drum.

MC: I remember. I want to see the views you see, and experience the world you experience. I want... to be by your side. 

I once thought my life’s desire was to find the Qilin.

But when I was about to give up, he suddenly fell into my life, carrying the light-filled sky.

At that moment, I was certain that he was a legend belonging only to me. 

Gavin stares at me. He suddenly laughs, tapping my forehead gently.

In that instant, golden light weaves around. The auspicious clouds gather, and all the flowers bloom.

Dandelion petals dance in the air. The auspicious clouds accumulate under our feet, and the sound of wind chimes drift from somewhere. 

Gavin’s voice dissipates in the air, drifting towards the people on the ground.

Gavin: I helped your village resolve the flood. In return, I will take the most beautiful lady on the altar. 

The wind surrounding us causes flower petals to swirl in the air. When the flowers fall and the wind has scattered, two people have vanished from the sky.

-

A very long time later, a beautiful legend arose in this land. 

Legend says that on this big altar, a young lady’s devout prayer drew a god who rode the wind.

The god took the young lady away. In exchange, the land received many years of peace. 

Nobody knows what happened to the god and the young lady after that. 

But dandelions bloomed and filled the entire mountain. 

- End -

...did the dandelions end up outside a certain grandmother’s house in Gavin’s Old Haunt Date? 👀

Phone call: First // Second

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark off-cut

So here's my RNM After Dark off-cut that I deemed Not-Kinky-Enough and therefore went back and finished my medical kink story to replace. It's a nice little smutty AU tho and it's finished so I figured I'd still post it for you guys. Also, available on AO3.

Rated Explicit. Includes: erotic electrostimulation, telekinesis as restraints, attempted mind manipulation, anal sex, hand jobs, sex against a giant crystal

Words: 6120

.

"The Prize at the End of the Maze"

-

Above-Earth discos were still a relatively new thing when Forrest invited Alex to visit one. They’d been casually dating for almost a year, and Forrest had never seemed to have more than a passing interest in going to one of the slowly rotating space needles with its tethered pods that could go up into the mesosphere for a space experience all while still within Earth’s atmosphere. It looked like more money than he was willing to part with over a fleeting experience, but Forrest apparently was a member of one of the most exclusive above-Earth clubs on the globe, Deep Sky.

One of the things that made Deep Sky unique was that you had to be invited. Upon Forrest inviting him, he had also informed him that he was being considered for membership to a club he had only passing knowledge of, and he was deeply suspicious. Why did he matter? Who was he to these people that they would know him? Had Forrest told them about him? It unsettled him.

“Look, they recruit guys like us all the time. Guys with a more open mind and familial connections,” Forrest had explained after they’d dressed and Alex had demanded an explanation. “It’s not a bad place. It’s… it’s actually amazing.”

He’d said the last bit with a dreamy smile on his face, eyes going unfocused as he apparently reflected inward at a memory of Deep Sky that Alex wasn’t privy to.

“What’s the drawback?” Alex had asked, leaning forward and snapping Forrest from his internal foray. Forrest looked at him seriously then.

“The deeper you go, the more alone you become. You can get lost in there and lose everyone, including yourself. But the place is weird. You only go as far as they let you. I’ve never gotten very far in there, but the way they talk about you… I think you could have the run of the place.”

“How do they talk about me?” Alex had asked, knitting his hands together and feeling his forehead furrow in concern.

“It’s not bad. I don’t… I can’t really explain it. If you decide to join, you’ll find out. But, how about you come with me as a guest one night? You can see it for yourself,” Forrest had offered, giving Alex the easy grin that had once made his heart thump in anticipation. Then he’d just felt trepidation, but he’d nodded and agreed to go as a guest.

“You’ll love it,” Forrest had told him before kissing him to stop the cynical comeback he’d cued up.

Now he was within its walls and thinking that maybe Forrest was a little bit right about it being something different.

Deep Sky was like no other club Alex had ever been to. Sure, it had music and dancing. Sure, there were bodies pressed hot and slick against each other in every direction he turned. And okay, there were strobing lights and bass lines that made the bones of his ribs rattle around his heart, but that’s where the similarities ended. For one thing, there were plants everywhere. Vines crawled up walls to end up dangling from the ceiling, and tall, large-leafed purple giants with vibrant green veins running through them pushed into pathways and created canopies overhead. The air smelled like oxygen, water, sweat, and wet stone. Deep Sky also had labyrinthine hallways that could lead you to a bar, a bathroom, the main dance floor, or somewhere darker where greedy hands and mouths reached out to drag you in. The darker places were only menacing if your least favorite sin was lust. The slap of skin and deep, throaty moans of utter surrender to pleasure leaked from the shadows as a taunt and a promise to the passerby.

Once you were in the hallways, there were no signs to tell you where to go, only nonsensical phrases shouted in humming neon surrounded by alien-looking orchids and birds of paradise at forks in the path. This was how Alex found himself alone and contemplating a series of rough stone stairs leading him up to the second floor. Next to the dark entrance shone a pink neon sign so bright Alex only noticed the stairs because he’d been fascinated by some unknown flower that grew in clusters behind the words emblazoned before him: And if those hills be dry, stray lower.

“Easy for you to say,” Alex mumbled to himself in response to the sign and eyed the stairs leading upwards. “Apparently the only way for me to go is up.”

He left the flowers and the sign behind him and climbed the stairs. The stairs were caged in a sweet-smelling leafy vine which only allowed brief glimpses of the dance floor as he climbed. The air in the tunnel was heavy with humidity, and Alex’s skin prickled with sweat under his clothes. He was beginning to feel anxious. He’d been stuck in the hallways wandering, enjoying the novelty of new areas and plant life, for so long that he had no idea where the exit or his host was. And now he was going higher and higher up into the building without knowing where he was headed.

The end of the tunneled stairs appeared so abruptly, he almost stumbled on his missed step as his body continued to climb automatically. He was on a landing that looked down over the middle of the club. The plants up here seemed wilder somehow, less manicured and tamed than the ones downstairs. There were large quartz further from him that blocked some of his view, though he could see the lights from the club below reflecting off their smooth, mirrored surfaces. They were taller than him, milky opaque and then clear in turns as he looked at their multifaceted surfaces. He stepped further from the stairs cautiously and found the ground was soft, springy moss under his shoes. On a whim, Alex slipped off his Docs and his sock and let his foot sink into the cool, sweet smelling floor. He instantly felt twenty degrees cooler, and he sighed in relief. It was grounding somehow, even though he knew he was standing on an artificial floor so high off the ground that they had to pump oxygen into the building to keep everyone from passing out. The entire night had felt like a dream to him. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good one or a nightmare, but he was sure that it was an interesting one.

His jacket soon joined his shoes until he was only in his button-down and black jeans. He was high enough that the music was more of an echo than something he was feeling through his body. It was a lonely bird's eye view, but he liked the cooler air and his unimpeded view of the night sky through the glass roof above. He moved further out towards the edge of the landing, fully intending on laying down to count stars until Forrest found him or the club closed. He practically fell onto the green moss carpet when he reached the middle of the platform. Alex’s eyes slipped shut on instinct, his body relaxing into the coolness beneath him, and he suddenly wished he’d just stripped naked and damned the consequences of anyone finding him that way. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes slightly to receive the comfort of the night sky above.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice from beside him asked, startling him from his reverie. Alex’s body jerked into a sitting position as his head whipped towards the sound. He cursed when he found that he was not indeed alone, hand coming up to clutch at his chest over his heart as he took a few breaths to calm its racing. He glared at the stranger while he collected himself and was unsettled to find the newcomer smirking at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here. I can leave,” Alex said automatically, beginning to push off from the floor. The stranger rolled over and caught his wrist before he could heave himself up. Alex looked down at the wide, square hand gripping at him and then let his eyes follow up the length of the tanned, muscled forearm to his upper arm and then to the stranger’s face. He had gold and amber eyes that seemed to glow in light and dark, loose curls that haloed his head. He was shirtless and shoeless where he stretched out against the ground nearby. Alex tried not to catalog the breadth of his shoulders or the arch of his feet, but he could feel his brain quickly scrabbling to soak up every piece of this gorgeous interloper while it could.

“You don’t have to go. It’s nice you found me. I usually spend the nights up here just hanging out until close waiting for nothing,” the guy replied with a shy grin.

“You work for the club?” Alex asked, suddenly fascinated. He settled back on his hands, though he didn’t lower himself to the ground as he’d been. The guy retracted his hand and pushed up onto his elbows so he was nearly on the same level as Alex.

“Kind of. I’m the resident alien here. Kind of the prize if you manage to slip past all the other distractions while in the maze downstairs.”

“That seems… kind of fucked up? I mean, are you getting paid? Are you free to leave if you want?” Alex asked, suddenly nervous that Deep Sky was keeping this gorgeous creature captive against his will. The alien snorted in amusement and gave Alex an open grin that just about took his breath away. His teeth were startlingly straight and white, almost glowing against the dark blush of his lips.

“There is no way they could hold me here if I didn’t want to stay. Wanna see what I can do?” His eyes lit up in excitement and Alex felt a flutter of anxiety at the keen look.

“Will it hurt?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t hurt you. Not unless you wanted me to, of course, and even then I promise I’d make it feel good,” the alien replied, giving Alex a flirtatious wink after his eyes gave him a thorough once over. Alex felt heat rush through him at the images his words brought to mind.

“Why don’t you call me Alex? I think you might want to know my name is if you’re going to be using your extraterrestrial wiles on me.”

“I’m Michael. Now why don’t you just relax and let me take over for a bit?”

Alex nodded nervously, but relaxed back onto his back against the moss. At first, he felt nothing except for Michael’s eyes on him. Then a pressure started low on his stomach, almost like a hand, but without the tickle of fingers spreading out. Alex glanced over towards Michael, who was still laying on his stomach a little less than two feet away with his hands interlaced under his chin. The pressure started to move up, a slide against his skin, moving his shirt with it. Cool, humid air made goosebumps burst over his skin as it was exposed. Alex picked up his head and glanced down to see his shirt seemingly moving on its own accord. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of his clothes moving without him being touched and he shot a panicked look towards Michael before instinctively moving to push down his shirt. Or he tried to move. He found that he couldn’t. His body felt paralyzed, weighed down, and the pressure against his abdomen kept pushing up his body. It was at his chest and Alex was beginning to imagine it resting against his throat, pushing against his airway, cutting off his ability to cry for help, and the panic rose.

“Stop, please,” he gasped out, every muscle straining against the invisible hold over him.

“Sure,” Michael replied easily, and then the pressure was gone. No pressure on his chest, no pressure on his limbs, and while it was immediately blissful, Alex also craved to feel a fraction of it again. Alex lay still and tried to slow his galloping heart, tried to take slow, controlled breaths, and tried to stop his muscles from shivering out excess adrenaline. He was dimly aware of Michael watching him calm himself, not reaching out for him or trying to help, but letting him do the work. When Alex felt like he had to break the tension just so Michael would stop watching him go through whatever was happening to him, he spoke up.

“That was… intense,” Alex said, voice still a little wobbly from fear.

“It can be. It can be intensely useful. Ever fuck in microgravity?” Michael asked, voice calm and unconcerned about Alex’s response to his power.

“Can’t say I’ve had the opportunity,” Alex replied with as much sass as he could muster. Michael grinned at him and pushed up off his elbows and onto his hands and knees so he could crawl over closer to Alex. Alex stayed where he was, even as part of his animal brain was telling him to flee.

“Want to give it a try? We could, you know. They’ve got pods here that’ll take us up to the mesosphere and then I could really show you what my powers are good for,” Michael explained. He’d settled on his hip so close to Alex that he had to rest his hand on the other side of Alex in order to keep upright. Alex’s eyes trailed down Michael’s chest, noting the unruly chest hair that spread across his pecs and then moved down his stomach and below his loose white track pants.

“I don’t know where you got the idea I was so easy,” Alex replied in mock offense, rubbing a hand over his stomach before pulling his shirt back down. Michael’s eyes followed the movement of the shirt, a frown settling on his face.

“You’re teasing me,” Michael accused when he caught the grin on Alex’s face.

“Oh, not me. I’d be much too frightened to tease an alien,” Alex replied.

“Star Wars won’t save you now. This is much more of an abduction, experiment with probes, drop you off at your front door kind of alien experience.”

“Probes, huh? That sounds interesting,” Alex said as he reached up and slid a hand behind Michael’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. Alex didn’t know what was coming over him, but he was actually charmed by the silly banter and bad jokes. Michael’s lips touched his and without thought or hesitation, Alex opened his own and licked over the seam of Michael’s lips. Michael welcomed him in, sliding his tongue smoothly along Alex’s once before retreating and breaking the kiss. He hovered over Alex, close enough to pull back for more, but far enough not to appear blurry.

“That was your first one,” Michael whispered. “Think you can handle some more?”

Alex only smirked in response, this time not needing to pull to get Michael to kiss him again. Their mouths met and Alex could swear he felt the floor shake with the intensity of it. He’d meant for their kisses to stay sweet and shallow, but by the second a fire was building between them. He tugged at Michael’s curls to hear him groan, wished Michael were on top of him so he could start to get some friction and relief on his swelling cock. Alex hadn’t gotten this hard from just kissing since he was a teenager.

His hands were thinking faster than he was. One stayed trapped in a tangle of Michael’s curls while the other rubbed over the warm skin and soft hair of Michael’s chest. Feeling bold, he didn’t stop his wandering hands above Michael’s waist, but let his hand keep drifting down until he brushed over the prominent bulge pushing under the waistband of Michael’s pants. His heart stuttered at the firmness he found and he traced his fingers down the length of Michael’s clothed erection, feeling his body flush hotter with desire at every inch.

“Are you sure you’re an alien? This feels pretty human to me,” Alex asked, massaging his palm softly against Michael’s cock in emphasis. Michael’s hips pushed forward and he let out a small gasp at the pressure.

“We’re a pretty comparable species. Most of the differences are only obvious under a microscope,” Michael explained breathlessly. His eyes slipped shut as his hips began to hitch forward against the first press of Alex’s hand on him. It was lewd and shameless the way he chased his pleasure while Alex watched. Alex untangled his other hand from Michael’s hair and brought it down to the waistband of his own pants. Deftly, he slipped the button and pushed down the zipper, the material separating immediately as his own hard-on pressed against his underwear and towards the newly opened space. He pushed his fingers under the waistband of his underwear and almost swore at how good it felt to wrap his fingers around himself.

“Fuck, Alex, can I…?” Michael’s voice trailed off and Alex realized he’d closed his eyes. He opened them to look up at Michael who was glancing between his face and where his hand hovered over Alex’s. Nodding, Alex slipped his hand out of his pants and away from Michael so he could lift his hips and push down his jeans and underwear to mid-thigh. He kept his eyes on Michael as he did it, watched the black of his pupils dilate further and his throat move as he swallowed.

“I’m going to use some of those alien abilities on you,” Michael said, hand still hovering over Alex’s heated skin. Alex smirked and opened his mouth to make a snarky remark on how nothing they’d done sexually so far was alien to him, when he felt curling prickles over his hard-on. He gasped at the sensation, unsure if he liked it or not, and looked down to see small electrical arcs dance over the swollen, dark pink skin of his cock. Michael let his hand hover a few inches above Alex’s body, and slowly he moved it up and down the length of Alex’s shaft, the electrical arcs darting between his fingers and palm down to Alex’s skin. It almost tickled and it almost hurt, and Alex was so fucking turned on by it that precum was starting to weep from the tip of his cock and drip onto his stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasped loudly, hand shooting out to grab Michael’s wrist as his hand moved lower and the arcs caressed and pricked at his balls. His entire body throbbed at the sensation.

“Do you like that?” Michael asked in a low voice near Alex’s ear. “Could you get off with just a little electrostimulation to your balls?”

The prickling intensified for a moment, becoming nearly too much, and Alex’s grip on Michael’s wrist tightened in warning. The electric current on his skin dulled back down until it was gone. Alex only had a moment to mourn the loss of stimulation before Michael’s hand was on him, thick fingers wrapping around his length and stroking confidently. Alex let his hand fall from Michael’s wrist. He beckoned Michael down for another kiss, lifting onto one of his elbows to meet him halfway, already starving for the feeling of his lips against Michael’s again.

“Take your pants off,” Alex whispered against Michael’s lips as they took a quick breath between kisses. He felt more than saw Michael nod before he pulled away. He watched as Michael quickly slipped the pants off his body and off to the side. His skin was evenly tan all the way down and though his chest hair was left wild, his pubes were trimmed and neat. Alex watched his muscles flex as he kicked off the white pants and then rolled onto his knees, moving to straddle Alex’s legs. He grinned as he caught Alex looking him over.

“Like what you see?” Michael asked, leaning forward to brace himself on his arms to either side of Alex’s body so he could be within kissing range. Alex gave another leisurely scan of Michael’s body with his eyes before answering. Michael watched him avidly, licking his lips as he waited for a verdict.

“I think I can work with this,” Alex replied, overly casual tone making Michael’s eyes go wide, and then squint in mock offense.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself,” he challenged, and Alex felt an invisible pressure on his chest pushing him down to lay against the ground. The pressure lifted as soon as he was flat and Michael was towering over him. Alex reached out and fit his hands around Michael’s hip bones, thumbs stroking over the soft, thin skin of his groin, and pulling slightly to indicate he wanted Michael down closer to him. Their cocks brushed as Michael bent down, making Alex push up against the pressure and pulling a grunt from him.

“What do you want, Alex? You want to get off just like this? Grinding against each other like horny teenagers?” Michael asked, his lips trailing over Alex’s jaw as he spoke. Alex turned his head to give him more room to continue. Their hips hitched against each other sinuously, not giving nearly enough pressure for relief, but building the tension further between their bodies. Alex slid his hands to Michael’s ass, fingers flexing against the shifting muscle, before pulling their lower bodies in closer. Michael hummed in appreciation at the increased contact before continuing to talk low in Alex’s ear. “Or I could blow you. Or you could fuck me. Or I could just hold you down and make all the decisions for us both.”

Alex felt a rush of heat go through him. All of those scenarios sounded like good ideas, but he was getting tired of being a relatively passive participant. He glanced around behind Michael to get an idea of their terrain. Meanwhile, Michael had re-started his exploration of Alex’s neck and shoulder with his mouth, adding in small sparks of pleasure whenever he nipped at the muscles with his teeth.

“How about you go kneel by that crystal over there, hands on the crystal in front of you, and I’ll show you some of my special skills?” Alex suggested, his hands skimming up Michael’s sides until his fingers cradled his ribs. Alex turned his face towards where Michael was mouthing at his collarbone for an answer. Michael hummed in consideration for a moment before bringing their mouths together for a wet, open, filthy kiss that said exactly what he thought of that idea. One kiss turned into another, and Alex wondered if they’d be able to move before one of them blew their load. His own cock was throbbing with the need for release and the dirty, hot presses of Michael’s body against his was working him higher and higher with each hard grind. It was with truly superhuman strength that Alex was able to push Michael back and break their kiss. He wanted nothing more than to keep rutting until spent on each other.

“Fuck, hold on, just….” Michael panted, and Alex realized he really was about to cum. Alex pushed a hand between them and pressed it over Michael’s cock, effectively trapping it against his stomach and giving Michael something to fuck his cock into. The smooth pull of Michael’s foreskin over the engorged flesh beneath was unbearably hot and watching Michael’s face as he fell apart above Alex almost made him lose his own load into the humid, minute space between their bodies. As it was, Michael’s cum flooded onto Alex’s skin, pooling beneath his breastbone, hot and sticky as Michael milked his cock between Alex’s hand and stomach in slow, firm presses until there was nothing left.

“Jesus,” Alex breathed, staring down at the space between their bodies as Michael panted above him. Michael lifted Alex’s hand from over his cock and moved down to lap at the pool of cum on Alex’s skin. Alex hadn’t previously thought this was a thing for him, but watching Michael’s broad, flat tongue knife through the pearly liquid was doing things for him right then. Michael moaned at the taste of himself on Alex’s skin and then moved back up to Alex’s mouth. Alex opened his mouth on instinct, knowing what was coming, and he wasn’t disappointed when the taste of Michael’s spunk burst bittersweet and salty against his tongue. As they kissed, Alex sucked on Michael’s tongue to take everything, let himself indulge in chasing every trace of it.

A whimper escaped his throat as Michael pulled out of the kiss and pushed to sit up. He gave Alex a knowing smirk, running his finger down Alex's chest and smearing the few errant drops of cooling cum into his skin. Alex noticed he was still hard, had hardly softened at all after cumming, and he shot Michael a faintly questioning look. He shrugged and his smile grew broader before he heaved himself from across Alex's body to move towards the stone Alex had indicated. Alex watched him move, appreciated again the span of his shoulders and muscles in his back.

Alex pulled his pants back up enough to be able to roll onto his knees to crawl to Michael. His prosthesis made him feel like one leg was heavier than the other and he took care to keep the inanimate foot lifted so as not to unseat the device. He'd picked the crystal in question because it was low and not far from them. Michael looked gorgeous with the reflected light highlighting the dips and curves of his skin. Drawing near, he pushed up and carefully knee walked the few paces until he could wrap an arm around Michael's torso and lean part of his weight against him.

Michael's skin was smooth and warm, warmer even than the humid air around them, and Alex was surprised it didn't make him recoil from the excessive heat. Instead, he plastered himself across Michael's broad back, pushing his hips forward until his cock nestled firmly against the crevice between Michael's cheeks. He ran his hands across the front of Michael's body, over the taut skin of his lower stomach and up over the soft fur of his chest. His mouth latched onto Michael's skin wherever it could, licking away the salty dew of perspiration. One of Michael's hands drew back behind him to clasp low on Alex's flank, encouraging him to grind his cock against him.

"You going to fuck me or just paint my lower back?" Michael asked, amusement in his voice. Alex's hand drifted down to Michael's cock and he stroked it in time with his gyrations.

"Would it be so bad if I did just want to cover you in my cum?" Alex asked, pushing his chin to hook over Michae’sl shoulder so he could look down at his hand smoothing over Michael's gorgeous cock.

"Mmm, no. But if I have a choice, I'd like you to fucking rail me against this rock at least once before you go," Michael replied. He turned his face close to Alex’s and brushed his mouth as close as he could in silent request. Alex moved enough to let him twist so they could kiss properly. While they kissed, Alex reached into his back pocket and withdrew a few packets of lube and a condom.

"Then get back into position and stick your ass out for me," Alex demanded, giving Michael's cock a final squeeze before pulling back slightly. Michael grabbed the lube from him and turned back to face away as Alex began to push his jeans and underwear further back down his legs to pool by his knees. Resting back on his heels, he tore open the condom package. He glanced up from rolling the condom over his cock to see Michael already working two fingers in and out of his hole in front of him. It was a close thing, only stopped because his hand had already been gripping the base of his dick, that he didn't shoot his load before even breaching Michael's body. He grabbed the other packet of lube that he'd kept with him and quickly opened it to smear over his length. Before he pushed back up onto his knees, he reached out with his still slick hand and pushed a finger into Michael's hole alongside the two Michael already had inside. A grunt and low, muffled curse was heard from where Michael was pillowing his face against his forearm. He removed his fingers from his body and Alex immediately pulled his out as well to replace them with the blunt end of his cock.

"You good?" Alex asked, voice faltering as he teased the head of his cock up and down over Michael's pink hole. Michael groaned and pushed his ass back against the intruding pressure. "Okay. Here it comes."

Alex steadied his cock in one hand and with the other he reached up to grip Michael's shoulder, pulling him gently back as Alex moved forward to get past the first small bit of resistance. As soon as Alex was half sheathed inside the tight clutching walls of Michael's body, he pushed both of their bodies forward to lean against the crystal. He braced himself with an arm next to Michael's ribs and continued pushing until his hips rested flat against Michael's ass. Almost immediately, Michael was squirming restlessly beneath him.

"Come onnnn," he whined. "Fuck me!"

Alex drew his hips back slowly and then snapped them forward in a rough thrust. The sound Michael made could only have been described as ecstatic. Immediately he shifted his knees wider and pushed his hips back in a plea for more. Alex gave him more. He cramped a hand back on Michael's shoulder and grabbed his hip with the other and let his body carve out space for himself over and over in Michael's body while Michael grunted, groaned, and cried out in pleasure before him. When Michael let out a particularly surprised yelp, Alex knew he'd found the spot that would make Michael's vision white out when he came for a second time. He angled his hips and pressed in deep, giving short, languorous thrusts that rubbed that spot over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Alex!" Michael chanted, voice wrecked as he pushed back to meet Alex and pull him deeper into his body at every meeting. "Right there. Don't fucking stop."

Alex had no intention to ever stop if he didn't have to. Michael's body was tightening around his cock as he prepared to cum again and it was dragging Alex quickly to the edge with him. God, he wanted to live in this man's body. He wanted to experience the high from pleasure over and over.

His thrusts started to get sloppy as he tried to hold himself back from release.

"Michael," he said in both question and warning. He was reaching the end, his own body drawing up tight in preparation for the finish.

"Oh shit, Alex, I'm--," Michael started, only to choke off the words as his muscles seized up tight. Alex groaned against the intense pressure around his cock. It set off his own orgasm and he pumped his hips weakly, trying to draw out the pleasure as long as he could.

Eventually, he and Michael were just two heaving forms against each other. Alex reached down and held the base of the condom as he pulled out carefully. He slipped it off his softening cock and tied it off, tossing it on the ground beside him. He ran his hands over Michael's sweaty side before shuffling to the side where he laid back down on the ground, staring upward. A moment later, he felt Michael land beside him. A tentative hand touched his chest and without thinking, Alex grabbed it and held it against his still rapidly beating heart.

"So that was…" Michael started, voice sounding awed. Alex nodded in agreement, not ready to speak yet. After a few minutes he found his words.

"Are you here all the time or do you get nights off sometimes? I'd...I'd like to do that again sometime," Alex finally managed to say, turning his head to look over at Michael. Michael was laying partially on his stomach, cheek resting against his arm and curls tumbling everywhere. He would look so good wrapped in Alex's sheets.

"You're cum drunk," Michael teased, not unkindly, but Alex still felt the slight. It was true they didn't know each other, but Alex wasn't one for impulse decisions normally. But his gut was telling him that despite their lack of real conversation, there was something between them that he shouldn't let go.

"How do I prove to you that I'm not? Do I have to come back every night for a week just to talk?" Alex asked, rolling onto his side to better look at him. Michael opened an eye to glance up at him before sighing and rolling to his back.

"It's just the fresh fuck and my alienness talking. But sure, come back tomorrow night if you feel so inclined. Maybe I'll convince you to give that zero G sex a try," Michael replied lightly. He rolled to sit and moved to grab his pants. Alex felt off-kilter. How could Michael not feel this connection between them?

"Okay," Alex said after a few minutes of silence. "I'll come back tomorrow. And the rest of the week. The rest of the month or year if I have to. There's something here and I'm going to prove it."

Michael studied him, eyes sad and speculative. Alex assumed he'd heard this before. Maybe he heard it every time, but Alex didn't care. He'd prove it to Michael that he was different.

A shiny haze seemed to fill the edges of his vision and for a moment he felt like he was still at the club, in that hidden landing with Michael, and also like he was in a dream.

"You should go ahead and give up on this idea," Michael said to him and it felt like more than a suggestion. It felt like a shove out the door. Alex recoiled, standing stalwart in its path.

"No. I won't go. I won't be deterred," Alex replied. It would've been enough but his mouth kept moving despite his normal reticence. "I have never seen or met anyone like you. I don't want to give up because it's not easy."

"It's not ever going to be easy, Alex. It's always going to be more difficult than anything else. Just let it be. Drop it," Michael replied, voice harsh. Again, Alex felt a wave of persuasion crash over him, pushing him away.

"I won't do that. I can handle difficult. You'll see," Alex tried again, moving to sit up so he could move closer to where Michael was now standing. Michael gave him a long, searching look. The shiny edges lifted from Alex's vision and everything refocused. He stared at Michael, who was eying him warily.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked, voice tentative for the first time.

"Yeah. And every night after," Alex replied easily. Michael nodded and moved to help Alex stand. Alex waved him off, moving to stand how his physical therapists had taught him so he didn't hurt himself or the prosthesis. As soon as he put weight down he knew he'd overdone it. It had been worth it, but it would make coming back tomorrow and doing all those stairs a real challenge. Michael noticed his discomfort, eying him up and down for evidence of an obvious injury. Chagrined, Alex pulled up his pant leg and knocked on the hard plastic on the shin plate.

"You don't happen to have an elevator around here behind a waterfall or something?" he asked, smiling ruefully. Michael gave him a smile back and shook his head. "Oh well, guess I'll just have to stay with you up here forever."

"Sure. Let me just show you to my spaceship," Michael teased.

"Ooo, have you heard of zero G fucking? I met an alien once who told me it was a must-try," Alex teased back. Michael chuckled at his bad joke and moved forward, lifting his arms and resting them on Alex's shoulders

"A must-try, huh?" They were still smiling at each other when their lips met for a kiss. It was warm and wonderful and made Alex's toes curl. Yeah, this was definitely something.

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Level 26

What cracking everyone? How are you all holding up? Everyone doing okay? My state’s started to lift a few of their restrictions so life seems to be picking back up. Anyone else able to go out and do a little more? Hopefully some of you have been able to get back to your normal routines!

Tagging: @loudartanimeeclipse, @ihavenotfallenyet

Master List Here :)

Warnings: 4th wall break lol

Happy reading everyone~

Level 26

You had never been to Kanazawa before, so the fact that you were on a relatively spontaneous trip on a Friday afternoon had you giddy. Most museums and parks were going to be closing by the time you arrived, but you’d never been opposed to just wandering a city at night. Maybe that’s why your mom was always so worried about you? You chuckled and swayed a little closer to Yoshimoto.

“So, where are we headed?” You asked as you left the train station for the bus stop.

“I’ve got to pick up a few things for a new project.” Yoshimoto smiled as he pointed to the Higashi Chaya District marker on the sign near the pick up point. “Then we’ll get food.”

“Sounds awesome.” You were about to say more when the bus pulled up, right on time, and the two of you shuffled in and took a seat in the back.

You knew a Chaya was a teahouse where geisha typically performed, while most of them sat on what would have been considered the outskirts of a town they were still well-loved and visited. This particular area had been trendy during the Edo period and thankfully spared in the second world war from the firebombing, meaning it still held a large part of its historic integrity. Kanazawa was supposed to have at least three of these districts, all well preserved and mostly open to the public. Maybe you were going to get some kick-ass historical tea experience.

“You look excited?” Yoshimoto wondered aloud as he leaned closer to you.

“I am.” You affirmed, nodding your head and trying to keep up. The last thing you needed was to get distracted and lost, either Yoshimoto would miss his appointment, or you were going to get left behind.

Slowly, the old wooden buildings began to change shape and color, when Yoshimoto stopped in front of a store with a rich plum-colored banner and brilliant gold lettering you froze. Hakuza?

“We’re here.” Yoshimoto smiled down at you as he walked through the entrance and bowed to the women staffing the front desk.

Hakuza wasn’t your average tea shop; that much you had gathered. The moment you walked in the door, all you saw was gold, gold leaf was everywhere. Curious, you followed Yoshi until he stopped at one of the many standing cases around the store. All manner of things were being sold here, you had your pick of jewelry, beautifully adorned dishes and artwork, statues, though you were the most intrigued by the cakes.

“Interesting is it not?” Yoshimoto asked as he leaned down to see what had caught your attention.

“Ah! Imagawa-san!” The both of you turned when you heard his named called so formally. “Welcome, welcome. Who might this be?”

“Hello Higashi-san. This is (LN)(YN); she is my date for the evening.” Yoshimoto bowed in greeting, and you matched his gesture.

“What a pleasure, (Imagawa-san I’ve got your order already for you if you’d like to come back and take a look?” The older man gestured towards the back, a friendly smile on his face.

“Of course. Thank you.” Yoshimoto walked towards the back, just before they both turned your way.

“(LN)-san, do please look around. If you have any questions, either of my daughters would be happy to help you.” Before you could respond, though, both of them disappeared into the back.

It was clear, based on the machines showcased in the back of the shop and the wares on display, Hakuza specialized in the creation and use of the gold leaf. Now, all you wanted to know what Yoshi was planning on doing with it. You hoped he showed you when whatever he was working on was finished.

“Excuse me, (LN)-san?” The older gentleman, Higashi-san as Yoshimoto had called him, peaked his head around the corner and waved a hand at you. “This way, please.”

Not a single thing could have prepared you for what you laid your eyes one when you rounded the corner. It was very clearly a room for tea ceremonies, but the entire thing was covered in gold leaf! The walls, the table, even the teapot and instruments, and utensils were gold plated, all in amazing contrast with the bright red tatami flooring. When Yoshimoto chuckled, you snapped back to reality, hoping you hadn’t caught any flies with your mouth hanging open like that.

“This is amazing.” You whispered, careful as you inched closer, trying to get a better view of the room.

“Isn’t it.” Yoshimoto’s smile was bright as his eyes crinkled. “This is a replica of the Golden Tea Room created in the 16th century by Toyotomi, Hideyoshi. Isn’t it grand?”

“Maybe a little too grand? How did anyone get anything done in that room? It’s way too shiny.” You shook your head, still unable to grasp exactly how they had managed to cover the shogi with the leaf without a single crease visible.

“Not a fan of something so lavish, my dear?” Higashi-san chuckled as the three of you began walking back towards the front of the shop.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong it’s beautiful; it just doesn’t feel like a good idea?” You offered. “Think about it, you’re just out of the warring states period, you’ve taken power and mostly unified Japan, and you’re going around bringing people into your golden tea room? There’s going to be tons of awe but also lots of jealousy. It feels like a bad idea to me.”

“I can see your point.” Yoshimoto’s brow creased as he thought about it.

“Either way, it was wonderful to meet you (LN)-san, and it’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Imagawa-san.” All of you bowed to one another before Yoshimoto and yourself exited Hakuza.

You walked in silence back down the road you had just recently traveled, so maybe that wasn’t what you were expecting, but it was still really cool anyway. Like a tiny piece of history wrapped up and disguised as a city. Unable to contain your pleasure, you smiled and skipped ahead of Yoshimoto before turning and walking backward to take a photo.

“Wait, I wasn’t ready. You should have told me you wanted a photo.” He blinked as the tiny black bag in his hand, swayed with each step.

“And you should have told me to wear a kimono, so now we’re even.” You smiled and showed him the picture you’d taken. Making sure to keep your phone just out of reach so he couldn’t delete the image.

“So it would seem.” Yoshimoto smiled at you and rocked his head to the left, gesturing towards a small looking restaurant. “What do you say we stop for some actual tea?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me. Think they’ll have that cake with the gold leaf on it.” You wondered aloud.

“I’m afraid not.” Yoshimoto smiled as he raised the banner flap for you to enter ahead of him.

“Well dang it. I guess I’ll just have to get by without it.” You joked, feigning dissatisfaction before heading in and taking your seats.

[ladymercytaylor]

All In - Chapter 5 (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Chapter 5 y’all!!! This one is a thicc bitch that took forever and it aint my best but here it is for ya! Hope you enjoy it :) Summary: You and Joe were in a blissful relationship for 4 years. It seemed as though everything was perfect. You’d moved in together and all of your friends were taking bets on when he’d finally put a ring on your finger. That is until it all fell apart. Now, 1 year on you’re thrown together at a mutual friend’s wedding and it changes everything between you. Previous chapter can be found HERE

Chapter 5 – 9 weeks and 3 days

Getting ready for your night out with the boys was a new experience to say the least. Normally you’d chose the best dress in your wardrobe, but the ever steady swelling of your stomach was gradually reducing your clothing options. You knew that you didn’t have much longer before you’d have to start buying new clothes, but every time you tried you found a cold sweat breaking across your brow and gave up. After staring at your closet for a solid hour you admitted defeat and grabbed the same dress you’d worn to Sebastian’s wedding all those months ago and your trusty Spanx. The waist of the dress hit you right under the bust and would probably provide the best camouflage for your little nugget. “Seriously, spanx?” came Flick’s slightly judgemental voice from over your shoulder. “Shit, Flick!” you exclaimed, clasping your clothes over your racing chest as you rounded on her. “Don’t startle the pregnant chick!” “What, like startling you is going to suddenly eject the baby?” she teased, stepping into your room. She flopped dramatically across your unmade bed, stretching her long arms above her head. “And I re-iterate. Spanx, really? Isn’t that bad for the baby?” “I’ve done extensive Googling. Everyone says it’s fine” you explained, moving to your dresser to pick out your jewellery for the night. “And I don’t really have another option”

“The guys all know now, right? You can be pregnant and proud” she giggled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.  “It’s not just that, Flick” you murmured, sifting through the delicate gold chains in your wooden jewellery box. “Those boys attract so much attention now. Before the film it was different but now they’re just…something else. The last thing I need is some random paparazzi noticing and then having plastered all over the internet” You continued to search through your accessories. You picked out a pair of white stone drop earrings and set them to the side before staring intensely at your necklaces, waiting for one to jump out at you. You were only really half focussed on the task though as you could feel the question Flick was not asking.   “What would that matter, though? You are pregnant. It’s a fact”  A dejected sigh slipped passed your lips. You knew this conversation was coming. Flick had always been on the peripheral when it came to Joe’s life. She saw him when he was sitting around in his stained track pants with 4 day old stubble shouting at the Yankees game on TV. She was never there when your date night was interrupted by a fan. Or when you were getting screamed at by a wall of photographers at the premier of one of his movies.  “Things are different for Joe” your voice was much quieter and tense than Flick had expected and she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach. “His life is public property. No matter how hard he’s tried there’s always things that he can’t keep private. We were together for 2 years before I even made it onto his Instagram and even that was just because a fan sent out a photo of us on a date first” you sighed, abandoning your search for a necklace to plop down next to her on your bed. “If anyone sees us together and notices that I’m pregnant they’re going to immediately assume that Joe and I are back together. And I just don’t think I can handle that right now” you murmured, picking absentmindedly at the chipping nail polish on your fingers.  You didn’t notice Flick get up off the bed and cross to your dresser until she stood in front of you, a gold necklace glimmering between her fingers.  “This one” she offered with a smile, stretching out the chain between her hands. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the necklace. A small 4 leaf clover dangled from the delicate gold chain, sending flashes of gold light across your face.  “Joe gave me that” you murmured, “when we went to Ireland” Flick chuckled quietly as she leaned forward to secure the clasp behind your neck. “I know”

Your heart was hammering against your chest as you neared the restaurant. Joe was meant to collect you from your apartment, but a late running audition had you making the trip uptown by yourself. You kept your denim jacket wrapped tightly around your middle for the whole journey. You hadn’t had to worry about photographers in such a long time that you were startled by how quickly the paranoia returned. Any time you saw someone with a phone in their hand your heart began to race all over again. Your face flushed with an embarrassed heat when a grandma pulling her phone out on the subway had sent you into a small panic. Like some random grandma was going to know that you were Joe Mazzello’s ex-girlfriend. You shook your head, mentally scolding your ridiculousness and vainly attempting to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones. Fortunately you didn’t have much time to think about is as you recognised three very familiar faces through the restaurant window as you exited the station. A beaming smile broke out across your face as you raced inside, desperate to see three of your best friends again. “Gwilly!” you squealed, rushing over to their table. “Y/N!” Gwil replied, immediately pushing out of his seat to wrap both of his arms around you in a vice-like hug. “Oh it’s so good to see you!” he murmured into your hair and you held him even tighter, tears prickling the back of your eyes. Oh how you’d missed him. “Careful, careful!” Rami warned softly, hoping out of his seat. “You’re going to squash mini-Mazzello!” Gwil set you down with a soft laugh and you immediately spun to hop into Rami’s waiting embrace. “Mini-Mazzello is perfectly well protected, Rami” you smiled, kissing him softly on the cheek as you parted. “And congratulations!” you beamed, grasping his shoulders tightly “you deserved every single one of those awards. Fucking outstanding” “Oh, stop” he chuckled, waving a hand dismissively but the darkening of his cheeks gave him away. “And what am I, spare parts?” came a rather indignant voice from over your shoulder. “Of course not, Benny” you teased, letting go of Rami to fall into Ben’s arms. “Just saving the best until last” “Hmm, I guess I can live with that” he chuckled, kissing your temple softly. “Look at you! I used to think that ‘pregnancy glow’ thing was bullshit but I find myself proven wrong” he grinned. “Please, that’s called highlighter and hormonal acne” you replied playfully. Everyone took up their seats, the one next to you left vacant for Joe. “So, how’ve you been?” asked Gwil, leaning forward eagerly on the table. “Work good?” “Can’t complain” you smiled, fidgeting with the gold charm resting against your collar bones. “Got promoted. I’m one of the senior dentists which is nice” “You’re going to have to explain how that’s different from a normal dentist” Rami chuckled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dating an actor and socialising with his creative friends had always left a certain amount of disconnect with careers. “Nothing very dramatic, I just get given some more difficult cases and have to take part in their NYU placement program and mentor a dental student. Mine’s called Nadia. She’s cool” you smiled. You were just about to begin telling them one of your more interesting stories that involved Nadia locking herself in the storeroom for 2 hours when a torrent of apologies flooded your ears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Director just would not stop talking!” Joe blabbered as he flopped into the seat beside you. “Sure sure, Joe” Gwil teased, flipping open the menu in front of him. Joe, very maturely, poked his tongue out at his friend. “Why do you refuse to see the best in me, Gwil?” Joe pouted, flipping the menu in front of him with over exaggerated vigour. “Past experience” Rami supplied with a cheeky grin. Chuckles erupted all around the table and your ex-boyfriend rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re all just hungry” he muttered grumpily, turning his hazel eyes to the list of dishes in his hands.

Dinner buzzed passed in a whirlwind of conversation and you were only just realising exactly how much you’d missed in the last year. Gwil told you all the details about his proposal to Sarah (it was so sweet you found yourself tearing up, but luckily for you it went unnoticed by the rest of your party). Rami told you all about his next project. He was so excited to be co-starring with Lucy again that he was practically vibrating out of his seat. It warmed your heart to see him speak of her with such care and affection. You’d been on set the day Rami had asked Lucy out to dinner and you’d never seen him so excited. Ben didn’t have anything in the way of exciting news ‘Just work, you know’ but his bright green eyes began to sparkle when you asked how Frankie was doing. She was perfect, as always. But he’d recently been fighting the urge to get her a brother or sister. Spending so much time away from home he wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt of leaving two babies behind instead of one. Despite his reservations you were quick to tell him to get another dog. Not being allowed a pet in your apartment you’d made it your mission in life to live vicariously through your friends.

“So, bar?” Ben suggested as your party stepped out of the stifling restaurant into the cool breeze. “Isn’t that a bit pregnancy-unfriendly?” Rami pointed out with a quick glance in your direction. “Maybe we should head off?” Joe suggested to you, the orange streetlights above your heads dying his hair even more ginger. You knew he was just trying to be considerate. You did. But something in his tone had your skin crawling. And you found a frown furrowing your brow. “I’m pregnant, not dying” you scoffed, stepping away from him to link your arm with Ben’s. “To the bar!” “God, I’ve fucking missed you” the blonde chuckled, immediately setting off down the street, leaving the other boys to follow behind you. Ben dragged you into the first bar you came across, desperate to continue the night before anyone mentioned going home again. “What can I get you?” he asked, pausing as he stepped towards the crowded bar. “Uh…” you murmured, options quickly running through your head, “Lemonade with a slice of lime in a short glass. It’ll look like a G&T to the unaware” you explained. “Roger that, captain” he confirmed, giving you a mock salute before braving the throng of people swaying to the thumping music. Joe, Gwil and Rami traipsed in behind you. Gwil and Rami immediately copied Ben’s trajectory to the bar while Joe hung back to stand next to you. “I didn’t mean to imply anything earlier” he murmured. The despondent tone of his voice had guilt settling in your chest. You opened your mouth to tell him that you were sorry for snapping at him but Ben returned with your drink and beers for everyone else and the words died on your tongue.

“Oh that’s so much better!” you sighed in relief, stepping out into the cool night air after hours of dancing. You hadn’t realised how hot you were until the breeze blew against your sweaty skin. “Come, darling, there’s some seats in yonder corner!” Gwil proclaimed dramatically before grabbing your hand and dragging you to an empty table in the corner of the patio. You let him pull you as peals of giggles fell from your lips. Tipsy Gwil was one of the best Gwils. “Ah, perfect!” he announced as he folded his limbs into the green metal chair. “You know Ben wasn’t joking, pregnancy suits you” he smiled warmly, “But let me guess, it’s been hell right? I don’t know why they bothered calling it morning sickness when it literally happens all day” he chuckled.  “Exactly!” you laughed, running your fingers along the cool glass of your drink. “Morning, noon and night. It’s torture”  “Oooh, how did your nine week ultrasound go? Do you have the photos?” he asked eagerly, excitement glittering in his blue eyes. You moved to reach into your bag and produce your phone to show him, but something stopped you.  “Gwil” you murmured measuredly, eyes narrowing playfully, “by any chance is Sarah pregnant?” you asked, a knowing smile growing on your lips. His eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Nooooo” he denied, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “Don’t know what you’re talking about” however a furious red blush swept across his cheeks.  “Mhhmm sure” you chuckled, withdrawing your phone out of your bag to pull up the ultrasound photos. “You should tell her that Vitamin B6 supplements help with the all-day nausea” you murmured as you scrolled through your camera roll, “She’ll still throw up but she won’t feel so crap in between” “Will do” he beamed, but his smile immediately fell when he realised what he’d done. “Fuck, please don’t tell anyone!” he begged, leaning forward to grasp both your hands in his. “It’s so early and we’re not telling anyone til after the wedding” he pleaded, desperation in his shining eyes.  “Secret’s safe with me, Gwilly” you assured, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Just let her know she can talk to me about it all if she wants. It’s….overwhelming to say the least” “You’re a gem” Gwilym sighed gratefully, releasing your hands to pick up his beer bottle and take a swig. “Oh! Photos! Photos!” he demanded, bouncing in his chair so intensely that some other patrons eyed him wearily.  “Alright! Settle petal” you chided, passing him your phone.  “Aww” he cooed as he took in the black and white photo on the screen. “It’s like a grey gummy bear!” he exclaimed and a burst of laughter escaped your lips. “I’m totally telling Joe you said that” you giggled as he handed the phone back to you. “Gwilym Lee – uncle to a gummy bear” “Oh hush” he scolded with a smile before draining the last of his beer. “Now, who has two thumbs and needs a drink? This guy” he grinned, pointing his thumbs at his chest. “Come back inside with me. We probably need to rescue Ben and Joe from themselves at this point” “I don’t think you’re in much of a state to be saving anyone, Sir Gwilly” you chuckled as he attempted to extract himself from the small chair and nearly tumbled to the floor in the process. Over Gwil’s shoulder you could see a burly bouncer in a far too tight black t-shirt eyeing your friend critically.  “I’m fine! I’m fine!” the brunette insisted far too loudly as you pushed him back inside the bar. “I’m perfectly responsible, thank you” he clipped…before tripping over the uneven floor and staggering into the bar.  It didn’t take you long to find the rest of your party. It’s kind of hard to miss 3 grown men doing what appeared to be their best impression of Magic Mike dancing at the bar. Rami was quite happy bopping along, his eyes glazed over as he danced in his own little world while both Ben and Joe were gyrating along to Rihanna’s Jump like their lives depended on it – lips pursed and eyes closed in concentration.  “I need another drink if I’m going to have to watch that” Gwil shouted into your ear over the music before disappearing into the darkness.  “Y/N!” Ben cried out as he opened his eyes, immediately finding you. “Come dance!” he shouted, not even waiting for your response before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the mass of people. A grin stretched your lips as you let him draw you in, immediately falling in step with their moves. Despite the alcohol that was clouding his brain, Joe watched you with perfect clarity. He felt like he’d fallen into one of his dreams – the kind that had plagued him ever since he let you go. Bringing you on nights out with his friends had always been one of his favourite things. You were so carefree, eyes sparkling brightly under the rainbow lights, nothing but laughter leaving your lips as you watched him pull out his most absurd dance moves. You always liked to say that he was by far the worst dancer you’d ever seen but he knew there was no malice in your words. He only did it to make you smile anyway.  Watching you dance with Ben, the blonde spinning you around and pulling you against him set his teeth on edge. Not out of jealousy – never that. But to Joe you almost felt like a mirage – so close and yet still so far away. Just when he thought things were going okay he’d say the wrong thing and feel like he was right back at square one again, needing to have Ben step in and call a truce. It felt unfair. Nothing had changed between you and his friends. Gwil loved you just as much as ever. There was no shred of awkwardness between you and Rami when you chatted about work and Ben had no qualms about placing his hand in yours. But he, the one who loved you the most, was stuck behind a glass wall he didn’t know how to break.

It was around 2am that you felt yourself begin to lag. The droning music was crushing against your skull and the relatively sensible heels you’d chosen were beginning to cut into the backs of your ankles. But determined not to be the first to crack you continued dancing, letting Gwil spin you around the makeshift dancefloor. Joe, however, was not as far gone as the other boys and saw your growing fatigue. He saw the way your shoulders were sagging and that the smile gracing your face whenever Ben pulled out some ridiculous dance move was slowly diminishing. Checking his watch he decided with a soft sigh that he was going to have to be the one to pull the plug. There was no way you were going to tap out first. Pregnant or not. “It’s nearly half passed 2” Joe yelled to Gwil, taking advantage of a slight lull in the music. “Maybe we should think about heading off?” A grumpy pout pursed Gwil’s lips but he nodded. He’d stopped drinking a few hours ago but Ben and Rami had ploughed right ahead and he wasn’t sure quite how much longer the two of them could stay vertical. Or evade security’s watchful eye. Joe and Gwil spent the next 10 minutes trying to corral their rather inebriated friends. You hadn’t been an issue. The relief that washed across your face at the suggestion of leaving didn’t go unnoticed by Joe and he felt a surge of pride warm his chest. Rami wasn’t a difficult target, Gwil just had to gently push him towards you, who grabbed his arm tightly. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all really, continuing to bop gently along to the music by your side. Ben, however, was not so simple. He recognised that parental look on Gwil’s face and immediately made a dash to the bar. “Ben, no! Enough!” Gwil commanded, grabbing him by the back of the shirt. “You’re so boring!” the blonde shouted back, but the older man was quicker. He took full advantage of Ben’s impaired stability and tugged on the navy fabric, bringing Ben into a weird pseudo-bearhug so that he used to steer him towards the door. “Spoil sport” he grumbled as Gwil lead the group out of the bar, a rather smug smile on his face. The cool summer air enveloped you as you stepped out onto the street. Summer in New York was unbearable to some but you’d always loved those playful summer nights. For a long time they had been spent with Joe. Either strolling aimlessly through Central Park or trying to find the best ice cream place in within a 6 block radius of your apartment. You’d been together for 2 years before you found it – a little family run shop tucked in between a dry cleaner and a 24 hour pizza joint. Your whole body practically melted the first time you’d tasted their sinfully delicious salted caramel ice-cream and it had quickly become your favourite Friday night hangout. But you didn’t go there anymore. “Alright, where are my boys staying?” you asked, slinging your denim jacket over your folded arms. “My place. It’s only a 15 minute walk from here” Joe supplied, swaying on the spot so violently that Gwil had to steady him with a strong hand. “Please look after them for me” you chuckled to Gwil, watching Ben and Rami continue to dance along to the music that was pouring out of the bar’s open windows. “Subway’s not too far from here. I’m going catch the train” you explained, gesturing up the dark street. “You can’t catch the train alone” Gwil interjected, concern furrowing his brow. “And before you interrupt - I’d say that even if you weren’t carrying such precious cargo” he added quickly. You huffed gently, crossing your arms over your chest but stayed silent. Joe was nodded rapidly beside him and you knew better than to argue with them. “You can crash at mine. There’s plenty of space” Joe offered immediately, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “Sleepover!” Rami shouted gleefully, sending Ben into a peal of giggles. “I dunno, guys” you murmured, your eyes flickering to the chipped pavement. The night had gone so well so far. Spending the night with Joe just felt like asking for trouble. “Please? Oh please please please please” Ben begged, abandoning Rami to wrap his arms around you. “Pleeease? We’ve missed you” he moaned and you felt that tinge of guilt twist your insides again. “Alright, but only if you get off me. You’re all sweaty” you chuckled, trying to prize his thick arms off you. “Picky picky picky” he tutted playfully but retracted his arms. “Onwards!” he shouted, raising his arm like a charging warrior and thundering down the street. “Ben!” Joe shouted after him. “Other way!”

Your intrepid quintet managed to make it 10 minutes into your journey to Joe’s place before the night claimed its first victim. “Guys, I don’t feel so good” came Ben’s slurred moan from somewhere behind you. “Come on, Ben. We’re only 5 minutes from home” Joe groaned, still wobbling slightly from side to side as he walked next to Rami. “I’m serious” he moaned, his deep voice echoing down the deserted street. Rami just rolled his eyes at the blonde but you turned to check on him. The colour was slowly draining from his flushed cheeks and a pained look was wrinkling his forehead. Your eyes quickly flickered around the street before they settled on a dumpster just tucked into the alley to your right. Recognising the slackening of his jaw you jumped into action, grabbing the boy around the chest and steering him quickly towards the grey bin. You got him there in the nick of time, immediately retching loudly followed by a loud, hollow splash. “Oh, Benny” Joe sighed sympathetically, slowly stumbling over to his friend. Ben continued to vomit into the dumpster but you had to step away, feeling your stomach lurch uncomfortably. “You alright, love?” Gwil asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he noticed the stricken look on your face. You didn’t dare open your mouth to respond, instead searching desperately for another dumpster. There was no such luck but there was a rubbish bin a few metres away. Running as fast your heels could carry you, you folded over the metal frame and threw up what was left of your delicious dinner. You were vaguely aware of a presence behind you, their strong hand resting on your upper back. As your thundering heartbeat faded from your ears you could finally make out the words being whispered behind you. “Bad chicken nugget” Joe murmured, his hand still rubbing soft circles on your back. “Making mummy sick” “Don’t blame nugget” you muttered, spitting very elegantly into the bin. “s’not their fault” “Still” he shrugged, his hand not leaving your slightly damp back as you straightened up, the rolling nausea slowly fading away. “Bad chicken nugget” he slurred softly. You laughed dryly before turning to the rest of your group. Ben was leaning heavily against the window of a closed shop, his blonde head pressed firmly against the dark glass. His forehead was slightly shining with sweat and a distinct green tinge coloured his cheeks. “Alright, boys. Let’s get this baby to bed” you commanded, stepping away from the bin. Joe’s heart clenched slightly as you also stepped out of his reach. “And by baby I mean this one” you explained, gently grasping Ben’s hand. The rest of the boys sniggered as he opened his slightly bloodshot eyes. “Come on, lovey” you smiled softly. “If I move I might chuck again” he warned, the corners of his pillowy pink lips twitching down. “Well if you do I’ll hold your hair back” you assured him, grabbing onto his arm tightly so you could pull him away from the window. “I’ll hold yours back if you do too” he slurred, letting you peel him away from the glass and back down the street towards Joe’s house. “That’s a good boy” you cooed gently, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “Practicing for motherhood?” Rami chuckled, twisting around to look at the two of you. It turned out to not be his smartest idea as he stumbled over his own feet and crashed into an unsuspecting Gwilym. “Bunch of children” he muttered playfully, wrapping his arm around Rami’s shoulders. “Are we nearly there dad?” Ben shouted at Joe, who rolled his eyes at Gwil’s snigger. “Almost. Now settle down or I won’t let you have the Oreos hidden in the cupboard” he warned. Ben moaned loudly next to you but you couldn’t help but giggle. It was cute of him to try, but you couldn’t help but snort at his attempt to be authoritative. Joe had always had ‘fun dad’ written all over him.

“Here we are. Home sweet home” Joe grinned, digging into the pocket of jeans and withdrawing his set of keys. The orange light of the streetlights bounced off the silver metal as he opened the front door, but you were transfixed in place, jaw slightly ajar. It was the exact brownstone that Joe had shown you the listing for all those years ago. It still had the same green front door with matching window shutters and a rainbow of flowers blooming in planter boxes under the sills. It was the definition of the perfect home - the exact kind of home you’d been hoping to share with him. The realisation that he’d found it for himself left an unsettling feeling in your stomach. “How the hell did you afford this?” you blurted out rather inelegantly. The rest of the group chuckled as Joe’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “There was a nice bonus for each of us after BoRhap did so well” Gwil explained softly. “Damn” you murmured appreciatively. The lock clicked softly and Joe shepherded the group inside, flicking on the lights. A soft golden glow flooded the entry, bouncing back off the dark polished floorboards. The boys all charged deeper into the house towards the kitchen, Ben’s cries of “Oreos!” barely registering in your mind. An uncomfortable lump settled in your throat as you peered around the corner into the living room. Everything in the room screamed of Joe. He’d hung up all of his posters again and you smiled at the addition of a yellow and purple Bohemian Rhapsody print to the line up. The Jurassic Park one would always be your favourite though. “Cookie, milady?” a soft voice interrupted your thoughts. Joe offered you a small stack of biscuits. You were glad to see that he’d stopped swaying so much and happily took the cookies off him. “The house is beautiful, Joe” “Thanks” he murmured, a shy blush colouring his cheeks, “I was hoping you’d like it” “What’s not to like?” you chuckled, gesturing to the airy entry way and living room. “You bought a house. In New York. That’s the dream” “Well, Brooklyn” he corrected teasingly, nibbling the edge of one of his cookies, “But yeah, it’s pretty sweet” he opened his mouth to say something else, but the dull thundering of footsteps swept into the living room. “Bedtime!” Gwil was ordering, shoving Ben and Rami towards the polished staircase. Sharing a knowing smile you and Joe followed them to the second floor.  “Who’s sleeping where?” Rami asked as the five of your staggered up the stairs towards the bedrooms, cookies still clasped in your hands.  “Well I was going to share with Joe but I think that shan’t be the case now” Ben muttered, nodding to you.  “I can sleep on the couch, I don’t mind!” you volunteered quickly, a guilty heat prickling up your neck.  “No!” all 4 men replied immediately. You could tell from the tone that there would be no negotiating so you leant against the wall and watched them fight it out.  “The couch is too small for me!” Gwil argued when Ben suggested he sleep downstairs.  “Please you’re too big for any bed, you big tree” the blonde shot back playfully, swaying slightly on the spot. Gwil rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Well if we’re using the height logic then Joe should sleep on the couch – he’s the smallest!” he argued. Joe’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not sleeping on the couch in my own fucking house!” he exclaimed, shoving another Oreo aggressively into his mouth, “it should be Rami!” “Uh, don’t think you’re going to be able to move him at this point” you interjected, pointing to the spare bedroom. The remaining 3 boys turned to follow your finger and groaned in chorus. Rami had evidently taken advantage of their bickering to step into the spare room, strip off his shoes and pants and hop under the covers. He was snoring soundly, covers tucked up to his neck.  “Well, Benny, looks like you’re on couch duty” Gwil grinned, slapping him firmly on his shoulder. The blonde groaned but seemed to accept defeat, moving to head back down the staircase. “Wait, I’ll do it on one condition” he stated, keeping his green eyes firmly on you. “You make us pancakes in the morning” “Deal” you grinned. Ben beamed triumphantly before descending down the wooden stairs.  “I’ll grab you some blankets” Joe volunteered, following his friend to the lower level. “Just grab anything you want from my dresser, Sweets” he called up, voice reverberating off the wooden floor, “Spare toothbrush under the sink as well” The second you walked into Joe’s bedroom it felt like being kicked in the chest. You were surrounded by every little thing that you’d missed so much for the last year. The abandoned stack of books on his nightstand that he always promised he’d get around to reading. His framed Yankees jersey hanging over the bed. His old baseball bat placed haphazardly against the wall. And the huge collection of framed photos that lived on top of his dresser. When you were pulling an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts out of the wooden drawer, your eye caught on a very familiar photo that made your heart stutter in your chest. It was a photo of you and Joe, taken on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. You’d come to visit him for the first week – he’d insisted that he’d feel more confident if you were there. You’d thought that he looked so unbelievably adorable in his Live Aid outfit that you’d insisted on taking a photo. Joe, still a bit self-conscious about the perm, had agreed on the condition that you were in the photo too. You were both beaming at the camera, Joe’s arms wrapped firmly around your waist. If you looked close enough you could see Rami and Ben imitating the two of you behind the drum riser.  “It’s not weird that I still have that, is it?” Joe asked softly from the doorway. You shook your head, not daring to take your eyes off the photo.  “It was a good day” you murmured, clenching the clothes in your hand tightly as you willed yourself not to cry, tears prickling behind your eyes.  “Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked softly, padding across the dark carpet. He reached into the open drawer and withdrew a pair of his own pyjamas. “I’m okay” you assured him with a gentle smile. “Can’t wait for this part to be over though” Joe smirked at your chuckle, leaving you in front of the dresser to head into the en suit. While he was getting ready you swapped your slightly damp dress for Joe’s clothes, taking the moment to fold your dress carefully next to your heels, trying desperately to ignore the comforting feeling of the soft fabric against your skin. “All yours” Joe announced as he stepped back into the room, now clad in his matching blue pyjamas. You murmured your thanks as you scurried passed but it didn’t go unnoticed by Joe that your eyes racked down his figure before the door clicked shut. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, but Joe refused. He lay awake, battling the drowsiness that was pulling against his eyelids. He knew he should sleep. It was late and he had a whole day of full of plans with the boys, but he just couldn’t tear his hazel eyes off you. Nothing about you had changed in the last year. You were still just as stunning, your hair splayed out on the pillow, lips slightly parted as you took deep steady breaths. And for a moment, just a moment, if he forced himself to forget about the baby - forget about the break up and just imagine that he’d never walked away from you - everything was right in the world. But reality came rushing back a few moments later, disappointment crushing against his chest.

The soft morning light streamed in through the gap in Joe’s curtains, falling across your face to rouse you from sleep. Groaning slightly you reached for your phone, squinting at the bright light, only to sigh in disappointment. Who wakes up at 7.30 on a Sunday? You were only awake and scrolling through Instagram for a few blissful minutes before you felt that all too familiar roll of your stomach, sweat prickling on your brow. As carefully as you could, you threw off the blankets and dashed out of the room. Stumbling down the corridor, you finally made it to the bathroom where you proceeded to fall to your knees in front of the toilet to throw up what was left of your late night Oreos. “You alright there, bub?” came a gentle voice from over your shoulder. You sat back with a grown, flushing away the evidence. “Just peachy” you muttered, standing to rinse your mouth out at the sink while Gwil watched you, nothing but sympathy in his deep blue eyes. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you moaned, leaning against the marble counter. You watched him shake his head in the mirror, his messy hair falling across his forehead. “Rami kicked me in his sleep. Figured it might not be a bad idea to duck out and get them all some decent coffee. God knows they’re going to need it” he chuckled. “Did you want to come with? Fresh air always makes Sarah feel better” “Definitely” you grinned gratefully, exiting the bathroom. “Just let me get changed. Don’t think the public of New York are quite ready to see this” you chuckled, gesturing to Joe’s old basketball shorts and ripped Yankees shirt. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Joe wear that exact outfit in public before so I wouldn’t worry” he laughed before heading down the stairs, leaving you to get yourself ready.

“So, how are you really doing?” Gwil asked the second the two of you stepped out onto the sunny street. A few pedestrians passed you but no one gave you a second glance much to both of your relief. “Told you last night, Gwil. I’m good” you replied lightly, keeping your eyes firmly on the concrete path ahead. You could feel his piercing gaze on the side of your face and resolutely ignored it. “Y/N, it’s just me” he said softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “There isn’t anything you can’t tell me” “What do you want me to say, Gwil?” you asked measuredly as the back of your neck prickled uncomfortably. “I – I just – you’re doing a really good job of acting like everything’s okay. And I almost believe you. But this has to be hard” “Of course it’s hard” you murmured, scuffing your toe against the dark pavement, “You try throwing up 6 times a day. Oh, and pregnancy brain is 100% real by the way. I accidentally put my keys in the fridge and almost threw my phone away the other day” you chuckled. But Gwil could feel the hollowness of your voice. “I didn’t mean that” he replied softly, flapping the sides of his jacket nervously. “I meant spending so much time with Joe” Ice cold panic shot up your veins. For all the support you’d gotten from Flick and your family over the last 9 weeks, no one had articulated that particular issue. “I don’t mean to pry” Gwil murmured, interpreting your silence as offense, “I just can’t imagine it’s easy having him back in your life after so long” “There’s good and bad in it” you whispered after a long silence, letting your gaze drift to the emerald trees hanging over the road. “It’s just a weird reminder, you know?” you murmured, sniffling slightly and the Brit felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for you. “Having him around just reminds me of how much I loved him and how much he hurt me at the same time. It’s exhausting honestly” “You’re handling it like an absolute champ, love” Gwil murmured as the two of you came to a stop outside the coffeeshop. He noticed the tears glistening in your eyes and pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you. “That baby has got the toughest woman I’ve ever met as it’s mum” he whispered into your hair. A few tears dripped down your cheeks as you hugged him back just as tight. “Oh, and I have something to ask you” he added, voice much brighter than a few moments ago and you found yourself desperate for a change of subject. “Would you please come to the wedding? Sarah and I would both love to have you there” “Of course, Gwilly” you beamed into his shirt, giving him a tight squeeze around the middle. “Now, come on. Those hungover boys are relying on us” you chirped, reluctantly pulling out of his embrace. Gwil grasped the metal doorhandle, pulling the door open to let you in first. You smiled happily up at him as he let you pass, scurrying into the cold relief of air conditioning.

Joe slowly blinked awake as the delicious scent of vanilla flooded his bedroom. He sat up to see Gwilym standing in the doorway, a plate piled high with steaming pancakes in one hand while the other wafted the smell into the room. “Breakfast is ready when you are, your highness” the older man teased gently, stepping back out into the corridor. Joe grinned and threw the covers back, tearing out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he walked into the kitchen he was greeted with a sight that made his heart skip a beat. Two of his best friends in the world were propped up at the kitchen table, both looking a little worse for wear but at least conscious, while his third best friend stood in the kitchen, evidently playing sous chef to you. You had that radiant smile on your face that he’d missed so much while you ladled batter into a sizzling frypan. You were dressed in your own clothes again and he felt his heart pang slightly. Last night he realised how much he’d missed seeing you in his clothes. His heart practically stopped when you pulled on his jersey. “Good morning, sunshines” he beamed at Rami and Ben who only managed grunts of acknowledgement. “Now we’re all assembled – we can eat!” Gwil cried happily, hurrying over to the dining table with three plates of pancakes in his hands. “Not so loud, mate” Ben groaned, slowly sitting up as his breakfast was dropped in front of him. “You young ‘uns. Don’t know when to stop” Gwil tutted mockingly, heading back into the kitchen to grab his plate of pancakes. “I distinctly remember a few nights in Japan that would negate your argument, Lee” Rami chuckled, taking a slow sip of water and wincing slightly. You smiled to yourself as you watched the round disks of batter slowly bubble in the pan. Of all the casts Joe had ever been a part of, there was something undeniably magical about the Bohemian Rhapsody boys. “Sweet mother of mercy, I forgot how good these were” Ben groaned, his lips firmly around his fork. Rami nodded enthusiastically, a droplet of syrup slipping down his chin. You giggled softly, flipping the last of the pancakes out of the steaming pan and onto your plate. “If we come to New York more can we have more pancakes?” Gwil grinned as you sat down opposite him. “I’m deeply offended that you only want me for my food” you pouted, cutting off a small section of your breakfast. “We like you for others reasons too” The laughter bubbling from your lips died as you felt your stomach roll. Oh no, not again. You dropped your cutlery with a clatter on the dining room table before dashing towards the bathroom for the second time that morning, your hand clasped over your mouth. “Shit” Joe whispered, immediately pushing away from the table and hurrying after you. “I’ve missed her” Rami murmured after a few moments, his eyes not leaving the half eaten plate of pancakes in front of him. “He’s missed her too” Ben added quietly, stabbing a square of pancake rather aggressively. A heavy pause passed between the three boys. “You reckon….?” Rami asked, his hand twitching slightly against the metal of his fork. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see” Gwil murmured, his blue eyes still fixed on the hallway his two friends had disappeared down.

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW! Stay tuned for the next chapter! TAG LIST!!

@sunflower-borhap-boys @blushingwueen @briarrose26 @mrsmazzello @escabell @yourealegendroger @sincereleygmg @zvzxs @dramatique-moi @borhapqueen92 @manuosorioh @deakyjohns @rogwhoretaylor

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 1

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, dental health vs. mental health, Longing (TM)

WC: 4.6k

“Shawn, gum.”

He shuffles over sheepishly and spits his sugar free Dentyne Ice into the garbage can with a metallic ping. He makes a face at her and turns away.

The morning doesn’t look much like morning. It’s so absolutely dark at 3:30am as they huddle in the Air Canada Maple Leaf lounge. There isn’t a single soul in there that doesn’t work for Andrew Gertler, so the team, a.k.a. Andrew himself, Shawn, Cez, Josiah, Brian, Jake and Ginny, are spread out over every available surface. Most of their cast of misfits is asleep. Andrew checks email on his phone, Jake is fighting a cold and snorts into a tissue every few minutes. Shawn and Ginny are the only others conscious.

The only reason they too haven’t passed out before their 5am flight to London is because Shawn has a call-in interview with a radio show in Paris. When they’re in full single promo mode like this, these kinds of squeezed operations are not uncommon. Ginny has to stay on the ball.

Maybe she’s nitpicky, but she just winces at the idea of some snotty Parisian gossip blog making comments about the tacky Canadian kid smacking his gum on air. It would get to Twitter, then Insta, then Tumblr, then god knows where else and she’d really rather just… not.

Shawn’s crisp, clear voice cuts through her fog as he tries to gamely repeat phrases in French (“vous les vous couchez… hey, don’t try to trick me, I know that one!”) for his beloved French listeners. Even at this ungodly hour, he can put on the charm when he needs to. And he rarely complains.

Ginny sighs, tipping her head onto her fist as her elbow props her up on the skinny arm of a terminal seat. She blinks slowly, listening to him laugh and try to pronounce French names as the fog takes her back.

+

Shawn and Andrew have fought time and circumstance for a week to sit down and have whatever this talk is about to be. Shawn leans forward in the armchair, sitting on his hands and bouncing his knees as Andrew wraps up his phone call. Before his thumb hits the “end call” button, Shawn is on him.

“So what’s up?” he chirps.

Andrew chuckles, exhausted. “Sorry, man. It’s been crazy.”

Shawn nods eagerly for him to proceed. Andrew eases into the chair across from him and rubs his stubbled chin. He smiles wearily, a man exhausted.

“I need some help, dude.”

Shawn’s gut lurches. Andrew’s never asked for his help before. Andrew doesn’t seem to need much of anyone’s help, the way Shawn sees it. Andrew’s his own personal superhero. Shawn’s eyes widen and he nods for him to continue.

“I mean, you’ve seen us lately. We haven’t had 45 seconds to catch up and get our heads on straight since before we started recording. Our world is changing. I think we have to expand to keep up.”

Shawn narrows his eyes and bobs his head again.

“I think we should bring on an assistant. A right hand for you to help you with all the stuff you don’t really need me for, you just need someone. Someone to help keep the schedule going, help with travel, deal with your personal stuff. Someone young who I can lean on too, and help train. Someone interested in artist management who I can help groom from the start of a career.”

Shawn shifts in his seat and sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Andrew. It’s not even that he doesn’t think he needs a PA -- he accepts that he probably does. He just… the chemistry of the team is so good. He gets hesitant about adding new ingredients. He’s grown so very attached to his people and how they all work together.

He’s about to voice this concern when he looks up at Andrew, his partner, the guy who reached down and hauled him up from Vine and YouTube and gave him the best chance he’s ever had. Andrew, wizened and worn to the bone, though he wears it well. Shawn’s heart swells.

“Of course, yeah, dude.”

+

“Ok,” Andrew sighs, shifting his glasses against the bridge of his nose, “Security says there are about 40 girls outside.”

Ginny doesn’t have to look to see (or hear) Jake wince. Her nose twitches in response, displacing the little gold hoop in her septum. Shawn just nods like a quarterback taking direction from his coach.

“So, they’re gonna lend us a hand to get us out to the cars. I’ve got Shawn, Ginny and Jake. Cez, Josiah, Brian in car two. You’re heading for the hotel.”

“The party car,” Cez chuckles, raising his eyebrows at his travel buddies. Brian and Josiah agree with a laugh and start hauling their bags over their shoulders in preparation to sift through the crowd.

“Hey, what time is it?” Shawn murmurs from just above Ginny’s head. She’s sifting through texts from Tiffany about scheduling Shawn’s next fitting. She cracks a smile.

“You don’t have time, mate,” she answers softly, reading his mind.

Shawn wrinkles his nose. “Just to say hi. Take a group selfie?”

“Might be late as it is,” she grunts under the weight of the backpack she’s overstuffed. Shawn helps her with the other strap and adjusts it against her back with a tap.

“Ok,” he says. It’s a little despondent with a candy coating. Ginny knows the voice well.

“But we’re gonna have time after Grimmy to say hi to the fans outside the Beeb,” she adds as they begin stalking off down the corridor toward the hulking men in black jackets waiting to escort them out to arrivals’ ground transport.

That seems to perk Shawn up. She snickers at his change in demeanor and flicks at a curl over his forehead. He wriggles his fingers by her face, widening his eyes as he slowly reaches for her hair. She smacks his hand away with a gasp.

“You wouldn’t,” she gripes, drowned out by the resounding shrieks of some very happy British girls as the automatic doors slide open. Shawn wiggles his eyebrows and smirks at her for a moment before he converts it to a billion-dollar rockstar grin and a double-handed toddler wave.

Ginny keeps her head down. It’s easier this way. In the beginning, she thought engaging with the fans would be fun, and Andrew encouraged it at first, thought it would be a good way for her to feel welcomed into the team, but things got out of hand quickly. As the only female on Shawn’s travel team, interest heightened to a level that none of them could handle. After Ginny’s personal Instagram was hacked for the third time, they sat down and had a meeting about her pulling back and becoming a face in the crowd. It was the right thing for everyone. Plus, she’s always really hated the flashes of the paps. If she isn’t expected to be photographed, she slides away from them more easily.

Andrew gets into the passenger side of the first blacked out Range Rover. Shawn and Ginny climb into the back after Shawn throws out a few more waves and “THANK YOU!”s.

With his gaze down at his phone as he thumbs through Twitter, Shawn mumbles, “I don’t know what the fuck they were saying, but this is definitely the fun car.”

Ginny’s lips twitch. Shawn looks over. She giggles. He giggles back. Andrew smiles down at his phone.

+

Ginny stares with her top lip squeezed under her teeth. She forces her dry, cracked hands between her knees and blinks quickly.

“You know I’m sorry, Gin,” Hannah moans, sitting forward to plant her tiny dark hands on Ginny’s legs, urging her to look up at her.

“No, I know, listen, it’s fine. It was going to happen sometime,” Ginny reasons politely over the smashing of her heart against her ribs.

“But listen, this is better for you!” Hannah hisses, shaking Ginny like she does when she’s trying to get something through her thick head, “If you’d stayed with me forever, you’d never have grown, never have learned anything new. This way, you’ll have direct artist management experience. And Shawn Mendes is one of the biggest acts on the planet. This is invaluable.”

Ginny hears it all, and she knows Hannah is right. But it doesn’t make being fired by your best friend any easier.

Ginny Dresden and Hannah Dyer have been best friends since primary school when they were sat next to each other because they were the only two little girls of color in their class at the tiny posh school in Bedford Park. In the back of their classroom, they colored each other’s hands purple and planted them on construction paper, giggling when they realized even though Hannah’s skin was much darker, they made the same color handprint.

As children, they sang in choir after school until it was no longer cool and then they sang in Hannah’s basement and recorded each other for when they became famous someday.

Now, Ginny waits for the day those tapes will become useful. Because Hannah isn’t just famous, she’s practically iconic.

Hannah, at exactly the right place and the right time, was discovered singing (though underage) at a bar in Fulham and within a few months was signed to a contract with Sony. As her star rose, she took Ginny with her in the hopes that her oldest and dearest friend could explore the world with her and find where she belonged. So she put Ginny on the payroll and off they went.

For four years, they took the world by storm. Ginny was a regular star of Hannah’s Snapchats -- “I’m building your brand,” Hannah would tell her. Ginny was happy to be along for the ride and took an interest in artist management as she saw Hannah cycle through a few different ones, the good, the bad, the ugly.

And then came Marcus. Marcus is the keyboard player of a group called “Bend Daylight” that played the festival circuit with them two years ago. From that first day of Pukkelpop, Ginny knew, even if Hannah didn’t. Marcus was the one.

Hannah and Marcus were married last summer. Four months ago, Hannah announced her pregnancy. And it’s not like Ginny didn’t expect things to change, to slow down. She just didn’t expect to be let go completely. But Hannah wasn’t about to throw her out into the world empty handed. She had set up a gig for Gin through a friend of her manager’s who knew Andrew Gertler from Shawn Mendes’s team. Andrew wanted an experienced PA who was looking to be educated out of her position into artist management. It’s the perfect fit.

Ginny agrees to a meeting. Her hesitance is clear by the furrow in her brow. Hannah reaches across the coffee table and over her swelling belly to plant a kiss between her best friend’s eyes with a wet smack.

+

“... and you love it here in London, don’t you, Shawn?” spouts Nick Grimshaw in that brilliant Mancunian accent that always makes Ginny feel at home wherever she is in the world. As she sits in a seat against the wall watching Shawn and Grimmy volley banter back and forth live on BBC Radio 1, she feels Shawn’s eyes. She lifts her head from her notebook and smiles warmly.

“Yeah, yeah I do, I really love it. I’ve thought about getting a place out here, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” quips Grimmy, leaning into the mic that he’s gripping with his bony fingers, “Where would you look?”

“Ahhh, I dunno,” Shawn begins, again looking to Ginny, who raises her eyebrows and shrugs as if to say, ‘you’re on your own, pal.’ Grimmy picks up on the gesture.

“Does Ginny have a say in this?” Grimmy laughs, his grin wide and toothy. Ginny shuts her notebook and sits up, shaking her head.

“Ginny, my assistant, she’s from Bedford Park in West London,” Shawn explains proudly, a smile in his voice, “So her vote would be somewhere over there, I’d guess.” He glances to Ginny for confirmation.

Ginny rises from her chair and steps toward the mic Grimmy is waving her toward. A producer hands her headphones. Ginny props her hands on the desk and leans down toward the mic, eyeing Shawn.

“I’d want you to get a posh bachelor pad in Mayfair for us to rage at, actually,” Ginny jokes, winking at Grimmy. Shawn rolls his eyes as Grimmy cheers, “way-hays,” and chants “lads, lads, lads!” Ginny joins him.

“Yeah, definitely my style,” Shawn snarks, lifting his chin at Ginny, who shrugs and settles back in her seat.

“Nice that your team knows their way around, though,” Grimmy concedes with a final smile toward Ginny before he gets back down to business.

“So, this new single…”

+

As things work out, ever so bizarrely, as is the norm in the Mendes camp, Shawn and Ginny’s first meeting is for a flight from Toronto to New York. By themselves. It’s circumstantial -- Andrew left earlier for New York for a few meetings and Shawn stayed behind in Toronto for his dad’s birthday. Jake, Josiah and the rest of the squad are absent for various reasons, so it’s just… Shawn and Ginny.

“How do I know what she looks like?” Shawn mutters to Andrew on the phone, knowing Andrew won’t judge him for his anxiety over this, as his car pulls up to departures.

“She’s tall. Like, really tall. Just… oh, hey Mike, can you wait up for a second? Hey… yeah, hi, sorry Shawn, just look for a tall, beautiful black woman with a septum piercing. I gotta go. Safe flight. Call me when you land.”

He hangs up before Shawn can say anything else.

Shawn’s gotten over his hangups about bringing on a new team member. He’s had a phone interview with her to make sure he didn’t hear anything crazy in her voice. And he trusts Andrew’s judgment the way he trusts that of his parents. All that remains now is the awkwardness of meeting someone new that’s meant to wait on you day in and day out as their profession. And she’s a tall, beautiful black woman? Why couldn’t they have hired a dude? A scruffy, old dude who Shawn didn’t have to worry about growing close to?

Andrew said she’d be waiting by the Air Canada check-in counters. When Shawn walks through the doors to the airport flanked by a couple security guys in lieu of Jake, he sees one person pacing back and forth in front of the counters on the phone, rolling a sleek red hard-covered suitcase that was absolutely silent as she tugged it around.

It seems almost everything about her Andrew had mentioned was an understatement. She’s tall. Yeah, she’s fuckin’ tall. She’s at least 5’11” but the height of her hair adds at least a few more inches. Shawn doesn’t often interact with women as tall as he is. So that’s new.

And beautiful. Yeah. Also probably undersold her a little.

She’s lithe and thin in that yoga-doing way. She’s wearing leggings that crop at her ankles and show off a truly stunning pair of legs, paired with a plain white t-shirt and a worn old jean jacket, the kind that even the most hipster store couldn’t replicate the cool of. Her hair is a bouncing, living whirl of tight, pencil thin curls that don’t have an ounce of frizz, somehow. She’s got a pair of aviators tucked up in there behind her ears. She doesn’t look to be wearing any makeup beyond a striking red lip color that makes Shawn lick his. Her face is angular but warm with a sweet little nose and a little dip in the center of her chin that reminds him of his own. Her eyes are a dark, clear brown and look like the kind of eyes that reflect every thought in her beautiful head.

Shawn’s chest deflates. He pastes on a friendly smile and tries not to imagine how complicated this could get.

+

“Shawn, gum!” Ginny calls from the back of the group of troops heading out from the Radio 1 building to greet the fans waiting outside.

Shawn raises a swallow-emblazoned hand and waves it at her as a thank you. She watches as he darts out from the pack to spit his gum into a bin and fall back in line. Ginny hears when they come into view of the crowd because it starts with a collective gasping of teenage breath and becomes a steadier, louder wail that Ginny knows well by now.

Jake looks to Ginny for a nod. She gives it. He shadows Shawn as he strolls over to meet and greet them, taking selfies, doling out hugs, signing and signing until he looks down at his pen with a frown. Before Jake can even look back to Ginny, she’s got a fresh Sharpie at the ready and hands it off to Jake, who hands it to Shawn. The minor interruption is noticed only by Andrew, who grins at the efficiency and shakes his head.

Thank god for Ginny Dresden. He thinks it to himself at least once a day now.

The crowd is only barely dissipating as it becomes time to wrap up. Ginny glances down at her watch and back up at Jake for the nod. Jake nods back and leans into Shawn for the heads up. Shawn does his bowing and praying hands as he backs away from the reaching, grabbing hands. Cameras flash. Ginny ducks her head. They pack themselves into the Rover for the next stop, a dinner at the Connaught Bar with some Island Records people who want to celebrate the new single, “Against the Noise.”

Shawn drops into the seat next to hers with a heaving sigh. She fights her instinct to dip her head onto his shoulder and snuggle into him. Instead, she smiles gently.

“You good?” she hums.

Shawn blinks over at her sleepily. He nods, “‘m good.”

+

What do I even say? Ginny wonders, trying not to look up at him from her Spotify, but he’s got one of those faces that’s hard to look away from. She knew, obviously, that he was criminally good looking, but Hannah neglected to warn her how overwhelming he is in person. She wants to put her nose right up against his jaw just to feel how sharp it is. What a weird instinct. She blinks hard to rid herself of the notion.

They’re in business class. He’s got his recliner out and is drumming his fingers against his thigh that Ginny’s also trying not to look at because his black jeans look like they’ve been painted the fuck on and his quads are magnificent and she would know because she’s got a very fine pair herself from yoga and pilates.

They’ve been in the air for 20 minutes. The fasten seatbelt sign just went off. Shawn has free WiFi because he probably has enough Air Canada miles to, well, buy Air Canada so he’s looking through his phone. He generously shared his code with her but it got lost somewhere between his big hazel-ish eyes and soft pouty lips and Ginny’s ears. She was too shy to ask for it again, so she pulled out her book instead.

She didn’t have to do this last time, the bonding thing. She and Hannah had been so bonded they were practically attached. But Shawn is essentially her new boss, though she’s technically employed by AG Artists, and she needs to make a good impression.

She’s studying a pathetic mental list of small talk starters that really should be longer given the British peoples’ propensity for chat when Shawn pipes up out of nowhere.

“Hey, where did you get that suitcase from? The red one?”

She looks up from her tragic cuticles and sees him looking at her curiously. Did his eyes get bigger? Warmer? Sweeter? Fuck.

“It’s a Victorinox,” she spits out, “It’s a great case. Super durable. And light. And the wheels are--”

“They’re like, silent,” Shawn interrupts, his voice hushed like he’s talking about magic.

Ginny smiles slowly and a giggle rises up from deep in her chest. And Shawn thinks maybe that really is magic.

+

Ginny likes the idea of the guerilla bookstore acoustic set better than the reality of it.

The planning was a headache. She and Andrew have been on the phone for a month planning it with the label -- which bookstore would get the honor? Exactly when? What would security be like? Would they drop hints? Would they do a treasure hunt? Would Ginny like to design and manage to execute the treasure hunt from a continent away? Please and thank you.

But Shawn’s excited. So she’s excited.

They crawl out of the Range Rover and traipse over slick pavement into the back entrance of the Waterstones in Piccadilly. Ginny picked it for practical reasons -- they agreed to the contract with the label, their chain could handle the security, it was a central location.

But Ginny’s grandmother used to take her here as a little girl and pick out books every third Sunday of each month like clockwork. She told Shawn this in a hushed voice beside a flickering candle at a business dinner in Century City a few weeks ago as he smiled and gushed over what a great idea it was, how sweet that she planned it to be there.

“It’s always nice to be home with you, Gin.”

+

Shawn runs the pad of his thumb along the sleek cut of her jaw. He doesn’t worry like he used to about getting her lipstick all over him. He’s living proof that it really is very long wearing. Instead he focuses on drawing out that sweet little noise from the back of her throat that he’s obsessed with.

Ah, god, there it is. It’s so perfect.

Just as soon as he gets it out of her, she pulls away. He grunts and chases her down, pinning his lips to her cheekbone. His fingers trail the seam of her jeans on the outside of her hip while he listens to her pant.

“We’re telling Andrew today. Or it’s done.”

Shawn swallows and he worries for a second his tongue will go down with it. He backs off her cheek and licks his lips with a firm nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

It’s Ginny that spearheads the sit down. Andrew doesn’t even look surprised when Shawn reaches over for her hand mid-shaky explanation that they’ve been working together six months now, and they know maybe it’s unconventional, maybe it seems like a bad idea, but this is how they feel and they want to pursue it.

Ginny, to her credit, is not a shrinking violet about it. Her jaw is set, but her eyes are as warm and welcoming as ever. Andrew slumps into his chair and removes his glasses to rub his face.

“Guys…” he groans through his hands, “The thing is, I can’t tell you no. And I can no sooner kick Ginny off the team. Both of those things will lead to immediate chaos. And… and Shawn will be miserable.”

Shawn lifts his eyes from Ginny’s blunted round fingernails.

“I am trusting you both to be adults. Please, god, please don’t make me regret it. If this runs its course, it cannot explode in our faces. We cannot afford that. So if you’re doing this, do it smart. What the fuck am I saying? You’re in love. There’s nothing smart about it. Just… try to minimize casualties.”

He stalks off with his phone. Shawn and Ginny hold each other’s limp fingers, dumbfounded.

Ginny glances over. Shawn meets her gaze. She lifts her eyebrows. He lifts the corner of his mouth.

“Ok.”

+

Shawn’s smile is glorious after he plays a set, any set for anyone. He could be in a field playing an acoustic for the three blind mice and he’d be beaming like he just got offstage at Madison Square Garden. It’s beautiful. And it’s addictive.

Ginny follows him closer than usual as they leave the bookstore. Her general rule is to trail around the back of Shawn’s entourage. Any time she was photographed within five feet of him, they’d hear about it. But tonight, after he played under an arch where she used to curl up with the Chronicles of Narnia and the Series of Unfortunate Events, it’s harder to stay away.

She indulges the whim and walks beside him through the hoard of paparazzi flashing their cameras and hollering “Shawn! Oi, Shawn!” for a glance from the wonderboy. He notices her presence and offers a subtle smile, a moment he hopes won’t be plastered across the front page of The Sun in the morning. Perhaps that’s naive. But he doesn’t actually care that much right now.

They climb into the car, finally on the way to the hotel. Shawn sits back and tilts his head against the headrest, watching the Thames go by.

Ginny shifts and slides something out of her back pocket. Shawn hears plastic and foil crackling.

“Shawn, gum?”

He turns to see her holding a packet of sugar free Dentyne Ice. He grins.

+

“Please,” he begs, voice shaky with unshed tears, “Please don’t leave. Please. I know it’s fucking unfair to ask. I hate myself a little. I really do. But, fuck, please, I can’t do it without you, Gin. Not because… because I’d forget to fuckin’ put on pants in the morning if you didn’t tell me to, but because you’re… Jesus Christ, you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you like this.”

The conversation the night before had been quick and so, so painful. It had to be, coming out of nowhere like that. Ginny was blindsided, having woken up naked under him in the morning with his lips on her ear only to shuffle off to her own hotel room for the first time in two months because he wanted to focus on his career and their relationship had become… too distracting.

She really can’t blame him for that, she supposes. Things had gotten pretty mad. They were obsessed with each other, refused to spend even a few hours away. It was easily negotiable, given that he was the artist and she was his personal assistant. But the energy around them for those two months, it was like an overstretched coil waiting to snap and send the whole team back to 14th century Verona for a full-on Romeo and Juliet scenario.

Snap it did. Ginny was packing quietly in a daze, ready to tell Andrew she was leaving, that she was sorry, but that he’d made the choice. Instead Shawn knocked on her door and she let him in like she always had.

Ginny’s dry cheeks sting with her tears. She sniffs and toes at the floor, locking her arms over her chest. “Don’t really want to leave, you know,” she murmurs, “This is a good opportunity for me. I’m learning a lot.”

“So don’t leave,” Shawn pleads, lurching forward. She adjusts, taking a step back. Shawn notices and shivers, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Don’t leave. Stay. I think we can do it. I honestly think we can. We were best friends first, remember?”

She remembers. She remembers being in love with her best friend until that first night in Germany where he kissed her under the table in the Hofbrauhaus and they didn’t turn back.

Until now.

I know Brits love tea but consider buying me a Ko-fi (link on my mainpage)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @stillinskislydia @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @accioarmenian @sinplisticshawn @mutuallynotmutual @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

[jakattax]

On making the matrix

So, the almadel. Ars Almadel being book four of the Lemegeton, the Lesser Key of Solomon the King. Essentially the almadel is a wax altar consisting of the central tablet and four supporting wax feet with candles. The centre of which one places a crystal for scrying and evocation of particular angel spirits, angels corresponding to the four altitudes.

(Image is of Frater Ashen Chassan’s almadel to the third chora, hence the green)

The Ars Almadel has been one of those texts that I’ve always planned on getting around to put into practise, and now the cogs are turning. Largely spurred on from my great success of DSIC and my work with the celestial spirits, I’ve decided to finally give it a solid attempt. I’ve always been intimidated by the construction of the wax, but after breaking it down I’ve realised that actually this is achievable.

So first step was reading over the instructions and requirements in the texts and coming up with a design :-

“Make the Almadel of pure white wax, but colloured sutable to the altitude [as will be shown]; it is to be four squares [square], and six Inches [over] every way”

I interpreted this to mean that the overall tablet is six inches by six inches with the central square (containing the six pointed star) to be four inches by four. Meaning the two outer squares to be a half inch each.

So my initial sketch matches pretty much the illustration in the manuscript.

Note: the central triangle containing “Hell, Helion, Adonaij” should be a separate entity, a key if you will, and NOT carved into the wax. It should be made of gold or silver and is placed into the centre of the star when the operation commences. For this I have cut a triangle out of wood that will measure and fit perfectly. This triangle will then be covered in high grade gold karat leaf. The triangle in the wax shall be slightly hollowed, so it can slot into it.

So now I know the exact measurements and requirements, then came the dilemma of how I’m going to mould a perfect six inch square of wax.

Fortunately I work in an environment in which I have access to an array of different substrates and materials and power tools, so after setting on my matrix, I used some free time at work to get building.

My first step was measuring out a perfect six inch square on a wooden board, easily done. Then using a high bond double sided tape and screws I attached cut wooden lathes to the square. Again fairly easy, not a lot to exposit here.

The screws were quite big and jut out a tad but it’s the only the mould, so I’m not fussed. With using primarily wood as my mould, as opposed to metal it’s entirely possible that I’m going to experience leaks. So in a hopeful countermeasure I taped around the wooden lathes. Fingers crossed it’ll hold.

I intend of letting my melted wax cool first before pouring, so hopefully the thicker consistency will lead to less spillages. Also hopefully the tape will lubricate the wax a tad, so it might not get stuck. If it does I imagine a quick blast of a hairdryer on the base of the matrix will slip it out. I could always just unscrew it, but if this goes well I intend of using the matrix for the other three choras of the almadel.

That pretty much covers the matrix. Was quite quick and easy to make really so it isn’t much of a read! I’ll keep you all updated on my progress. But again I will reiterate I shall NOT be sharing details of the operations.

Next thing to consider is the four wax feet that shall support the tablet, I have a plan but I shall share later!

[literaryoblivion]

October 1: Fall Leaves (Jack/Bitty)

(Read on AO3)

While everywhere in the US experiences the seasons in some way, shape, or form, certain areas are better displays of certain seasons than others. Summer is best on the sandy beach in California, winters in Colorado in a snowy ski cabin are ideal, and fall in New England is picture-perfect.

Of course, other areas’ residents might be biased, and sure, it’s a rather subjective concept in general. And as much as Bitty misses his home in Georgia (whose best season might be the sliver of spring when it’s cool right before it gets hot and muggy in the summer), he will always prefer the cool breeze through the changing fall leaves as he walks to class at Samwell. It’s like he can smell the change in the air, although that might be the pumpkin spice lattes he’s always getting (or being given), and he informs Jack of this while they are walking across the bridge to Faber for morning practice.

“There’s a place a few minutes from campus that has some great colors on the leaves. I’ve been meaning to photograph them. Maybe we can go later? I can show you?” Jack asks hesitantly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets like he’s cold, although Bitty knows his Canadian blood can withstand much lower temperatures.

“That would be lovely, Jack. I don’t have class this afternoon,” Bitty hints, hoping Jack will offer to take him to this special place, both because he wants to see it and because he always wants to spend more time with Jack alone.

As if considering this, Jack nods, “I should be back at the Haus around three?”

Bitty desperately wants to say ‘It’s a date’ but restrains himself. “I’ll be there!” he says instead with a smile.

By the time three o’clock nears, Bitty is a nervous wreck. With no afternoon class to distract him and the severe lack of motivation to study, he’s baked up a storm in an attempt to keep himself occupied while he waited for Jack. He definitely doesn’t mind baking and making the Haus smell like pumpkin spice goodness, but he’s positive Betsy has not been pleased with the workload.

He’s pulling out the last batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies when Jack comes into the kitchen, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Those smell good,” Jack says, nodding his head at the tray Bitty had just set on the counter, which makes Bitty beam. “I just need to drop my bag off upstairs and get my camera, then we can go?” He points with his thumb over his shoulder then adds, gesturing to the cookies, “We should take some of those with us.”

Bitty laughs. “Yes, sir. I’ll pack some up.”

With one last smile, Jack disappears upstairs. When he comes back, Bitty has a small bag prepared with some water bottles and a few cookies and hand-pies that were cool. He doesn’t bother putting the other sweets that are still cooling away because he knows they’ll be gone by the time he and Jack come back, whether he hid them or not. These hockey boys didn’t care if they burned their mouths if it meant more deliciousness.

Jack insists on walking to the spot he’d mentioned. It’s nice enough out, and Bitty’s got a thick sweater on, so he should be okay. It’s a pleasant walk, and they talk about their classes, some new recipes Bitty’s found to try, the frogs that seem to be improving (Jack, ever the captain). Every once in a while Jack stops to take a few pictures as they walk, anything that seems to strike him as worthy of his lens. Bitty doesn’t mind and is glad that Jack has this creative side to him that he’s willing to share and have him help with.

They pass a few people as they walk through and off of campus, but once they’re clear of Samwell, it’s fairly quiet with no one else around aside from a few cars that drive by. It’s wonderful and peaceful, and Bitty can’t help but imagine what it’d be like to walk like this with Jack all the time, shoulders brushing, calm conversation… intertwined hands that swing gently between them as they go.

He feels his face flush with the image, and he hopes that Jack can’t see it or that he thinks it’s from the cool breeze outside. Jack guides Bitty with a hand on the small of his back to the left and once they turn the corner a small grove of trees come into view. There’s a winding path between the trees and what look to be street lamps scattered along the path, although it’s still day time so they aren’t on yet.

The trees are beautiful; the leaves are various shades of red and orange and gold, some still have spots of green, other spots of brown, and several have leaves that fall with every small gust of wind that rustles through them.

“What do you think?” Jack asks after a few moments of them standing near the start of the path.

“It’s amazing, Jack! No wonder you wanted to take some pictures here. I’m sure they’ll turn out gorgeous, honey.”

Jack smiles, nodding slightly, as he brings his camera up to start taking pictures more earnestly than while they had been walking. Bitty decides to leave him to it, walking further along the path to see more of the trees. He doesn’t realize Jack’s actually following him until he spots a pile of leaves nearby and turns to call to Jack.

“Oh,” he says with a small chuckle. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jack says softly.

“I kind of want to jump in that pile of leaves.”

“You should do it, then.”

Bitty bites his bottom lip slightly in hesitation and then grins mischievously. With a shout, he runs and jumps into the pile. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of a shutter going off behind him, but he doesn’t pay it any attention.

He laughs and kicks the leaves around, reveling in the crunching sound beneath his feet as he swishes through the leaves. It makes him feel like a child, jumping around in the leaves, and on instinct, he gathers up several handfuls of them and throws them up in the air, laughing and  smiling at the sky as he watches the colors in the air floating for a brief moment almost before they fall down around him.

He looks up at Jack, who’s had his camera to his face almost the whole time, clicking quickly as Bitty had played in the pile. He smiles sheepishly at him, and he feels breathless as Jack slowly lowers his camera to stare at Bitty. It’s not a look he recognizes ever having seen on his captain’s face, and it makes Bitty nervous, not being able to tell what Jack is feeling and unconsciously displaying on his face.

Jack slowly steps closer to him, letting go of his camera so it’s held around his shoulder by its strap. The nearer Jack gets, the more Bitty is anxious about what he will say, what he’ll do.

“That was rather silly, huh?” Bitty says with a self-deprecating laugh.

Jack smiles and shakes his head, finally coming to stop so he’s directly in front of Bitty, so close that Bitty can feel the warmth of his body, just has to take a fraction of a step until he’s pressed against Jack.

“You have, uh,” Jack says before reaching out and plucking something off the top of Bitty’s head, a leaf. He slowly brings it up between them, twirling it by its stem between his fingers.

“Oh,” Bitty says, cheeks getting hot and, he’s sure, flaming red. “Thanks.” He smiles up at Jack and moves to take the leaf from Jack’s fingers, but Jack doesn’t let go, and they end up holding the leaf together, Jack’s hand warm and big beneath Bitty’s.

“Um,” Jack says, his cheeks equally flushing as much as Bitty’s sure his are.

“Jack, I…” Bitty says, although he’s not sure what he was going to say.

“Bittle, you’re… I think…” Jack takes a breath, closing his eyes slightly before opening them again to stare at Bitty with an intensity that Bitty usually only ever sees on the ice. “Bitty, you’re gorgeous.”

Bitty can feel his whole face heat, and his eyes are wide with shock because he was not expecting Jack to say that at all.

“I, wow, thank you, sweetie. You’re, uh… I think you’re pretty gorgeous yourself.” Bitty knows his voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at their feet because he can’t bring himself to look at Jack.

He feels Jack take the hand that’s holding the leaf, and brings it down, letting go of the leaf so he can squeeze Bitty’s fingers. Then, Jack uses his other hand to touch Bitty’s chin and brings his face back up to meet his eyes.

“Can I kiss you, Bits?” Jack asks in a whisper, thumb softly stroking Bitty’s jawline.

Bitty can’t even speak, throat caught in his throat, so he just nods in answer, and then Jack leans down and presses his lips to his.

It’s a light pressure at first, almost hesitant, like Bitty might suddenly change his mind and push Jack away, but there’s no way that will ever happen. Bitty has been imagining kissing Jack for months now, and now that it’s actually happening, there’s no way he’s backing away from it. He pushes into Jack, leaning up on his toes for a better height, lips a little more insistent, his arms coming up around Jack’s neck.

Finally he can feel Jack relax, bring his own arms around Bitty’s waist and pull him in closer. When they break apart, they’re both grinning and breathless. They can’t seem to stop staring at each other, so they don’t. Bitty’s sure that if anyone were to see them, they would think they were crazy and weird, love-sick fools. He doesn’t really care though because he and Jack kissed, and it was wonderful and perfect and he can’t wait to do it again.

“There’s a, uh, bench a little further down,” Jack says as they come back down to earth, pulling away from each other slightly. Jack takes his hand, threads their fingers together, and walks Bitty over to the bench.

They sit and talk, snack on the treats that Bitty had brought, and Jack takes a few more pictures. After some insistence, Jack finally lets Bitty see the pictures he took on the small display of Jack’s camera.

It doesn’t take long for Bitty to realize that almost all the pictures are of him; there’s a few of the trees, of the falling leaves, but most feature Bitty’s smile, his blush as he laughs, his nose as he looks up at the leaves he had thrown in the air, the leaf that hand landed in his hair before Jack had taken it out.

“I thought you wanted to take pictures of the leaves?” Bitty says, snuggled up to Jack on the bench. They’ll have to go soon, the sun is going down and it’s getting colder because of it.

Jack shrugs. “I found a better subject. The leaves are pretty, but you in the leaves? Way better.”

“Oh, honey,” Bitty says, lovingly shoving Jack in the side. Jack looks down at him with a grin, like he knows how cheesy and sappy he was just then, and Bitty wants to kiss him so bad.

So he does.

[letithappeneverafter]

F**K - He’s moved to LA.

At the beginning of this decade Tame Impala were a beardy psychedelic rock band operating out of Perth, Australia, one of the more isolated cities in the world. Cut to this month and Kevin Parker, the frontman who it turns out was writing and recording the songs by himself all along, is unpacking his bags in his new home in the Hollywood Hills. His recent writing credits include songs for Rihanna, Kanye West and Lady Gaga. How did that happen?

“It’s the last world I would have expected to end up in but I’ve become more comfortable with it,” says the 32-year-old of this newfound glamour. Lady Gaga was the first person he wrote lyrics with collaboratively, on her 2016 single Perfect Illusion — a decent start. Rihanna’s Same Ol’ Mistakes, from her Anti album of the same year, was a straight lift of the music from his Tame Impala song New Person, Same Old Mistakes, with her singing instead of him. This month he even prompted a few news stories when there was some confusion over whether or not he had contributed to Kanye West’s surprise new album Ye.

“That was an absolute saga. It was uncannily poor timing,” he tells me as he attempts to explain what happened. It seems he was in the middle of giving an interview while West was premiering Ye with a live stream, and a friend texted him to tell him his song was playing. So he told the journalist. Later it turned out that his contribution had been left out of the song he thought he was on, Ghost Town, but he was credited on a different one, Violent Crimes. He found out at the same time as everyone else.

If that was hard to follow, it just seems to be how it works in the orbit of the biggest stars, whose songwriter credits can sometimes run into double figures. Parker says he had met West in person “for a chat” but sent over his musical ideas from afar. He still hasn’t met Rihanna.

“That’s the thing about being a rogue contributor: you’re not in the driver’s seat, so you don’t really know how things are gonna pan out. From working on it, to it actually emerging into the world, there’s a lot in between,” he says.

He sounds positive when describing the process with what seems to me like a particularly bleak metaphor. “It’s definitely therapeutic to let go of control and just be someone hitting tennis balls off a cliff.”

With his own music, it’s nothing like that. He has been recording songs completely alone since he was 14. When it came time to search for a record deal, he lied and said that Tame Impala were a band. “I think I was just shy. I thought if people saw a bunch of guys with long hair in the picture they’d enjoy it more. I didn’t think I had anything to offer as a solo artist.”

Some of that shyness has carried forward, despite the A-listers he mixes with these days. He’s a guarded interviewee, giving nothing away about who he moved to LA to work with or the progress of new Tame Impala music. He doubles back and corrects sentences as he talks, changing one word for a better one, which can make him hard to follow. And he requests that we speak using Skype, which is usually a reasonable way to make a visual connection with somebody when you’re in a different country, but he leaves his webcam switched off, so he can see me but I can’t see him.

In concert, however, where Tame Impala are a five-piece band, his success has forced him to become more of a showman. The group’s first experience of being festival headliners came last summer at New York’s Panorama weekender, and next month they’ll top the bill at west London’s one-day Citadel — their only UK show this year. Among a handful of gigs in 2018 they’re also first or second on the line-up at festivals as far afield as Pitchfork in Chicago, Treasure Island in California and Mad Cool in Madrid.  

“I used to be pretty withdrawn on stage a few years ago. I didn’t even stand in the middle. I was terrified to look anywhere other than my own feet,” he admits. “I suddenly realised that my career was going to go by and I was never going to have fun on stage. Since then I’ve embraced the part of me that loves attention.” Is he more of a star now? “Well… I wouldn’t use that word. It’s just having more of a presence, enjoying the energy of people in the audience who want to connect with you, because that’s why they go to the show instead of listening to the album.”

Listening to the album is pretty good too, though. Currents, the band’s third long-player, was released in 2015 and was the moment Tame Impala moved from making well-crafted, guitar-heavy psych rock to using more synths and embracing a wider range of styles. Yes I’m Changing is a dreamy trip-hop ballad. ’Cause I’m a Man is smooth soft rock. The Less I Know the Better, a silver-seller in the UK despite never entering the charts, is melodic, funky disco. The album went platinum in Parker’s homeland and hit the top five in the US and the UK, where Tame Impala beat U2 to take home the 2016 Brit Award for International Group.

“I’m actually a really poor judge of how successful Tame Impala is. I tend to underestimate it. But if it had happened any faster, it would have been out of control for me personally,” says Parker. “I think every time I’ve released an album it’s had this slow build. I think that’s the result of the kind of music it is. It gets under your skin.”

That unhurried pace looks set to continue. Currents went gold in the US only this month, almost three years after it came out. He says he won’t be performing any new songs at this summer’s gigs, not least because he hates people filming unreleased music on their phones. “I don’t want to say too much,” is all he’ll offer when pushed on his progress writing new music, but he does say that one of the reasons he has moved to LA is to do more producing for other people. “I’ve always wanted to do that. But Tame Impala is always the most important thing,” he says. “I like to think I can do both at the same time, but maybe I’m kidding myself.”

It’s a new chapter as Kevin Parker Aussie rock outsider becomes Kevin Parker bigshot LA songwriter and producer. Don’t dismiss the idea of him taking a leaf out of Kanye’s book and unveiling a new album with no warning. “I don’t like to play it up,” he says, with characteristic reticence, "but yeah, anything could happen.”

By DAVID SMYTH

[black-halla]

EVGENIA MEDVEDEVA: I cried because something I worked for all my life has happen

some highlights from an interview for Russian magazine (march’18)

Why you did not compete in Milano?

I had no choice. Doctors urged to take at least month’s rest and restore the health. Because of injury I missed a lot of important events, but I knew that I will compete in Korea, even I’ve been absolutely broken.

And you came back from Korea with two silver medals!

Actually, there are three medals already. Last week fans gave me golden ‘olympic’ medal. It is less small than original ones but looks pretty similar. Instead of Olympic rings there are five hearts on it. It is a real piece of jewelry made of silver and covered by gold. It was a very pleasant surprise. I was at home when I had a call; someone asked me to go downstairs, out back. When I did, I saw nearly 50 fans of various ages, from 14 to 40.

There was a granny that came out of the front door with me. She worried seeing so many people near our house. She tried to fight them off, but I said that they came to me, and she immediately calmed down. When fans gave me that medal I couldn’t resist crying. It’s very hard to make me cry, to be honest, I have no habit to show my tears in public. Once I watched Hatiko with my best friend, Katya Bobrova [Russian ice dancer]. She really cried her eyes out, but I stayed calm. Yes, it’s a movie, the dog waited for his owner and she never did – so what?

But on Olympics you cried after free skate. Were you so upset?

No, not at all! I cried because something I worked for all my live has happen. My dream came true - I skated on Olympic Games. When I was nearly 8, I started think about it and count years like “well, I can’t go in Sochi because of age. So, I should be on the next ones.” For many years since I’ve been a little girl I imagined how it feels to perform on Olympics. I quaked from excitement just imagining it. But in Korea, I wasn’t worried during competition, I skated for pleasure. Emotions came at the very end. It wasn’t because of the 2nd place. Let’s imagine I won the gold, so what’s next? In 18 years old I’d have everything skater could wish to win. Now I have a clear purpose and incentive to continue competing until the next Games, pleasing my fans.

It's good to have a mom near to you. She’d been supporting you, is it? Did you live with you mother in Korea?

No, I saw mom just once, it seems. I was practicing for gala. I lived with Katya Bobrova, we always try to accomodate together on competitions. I don’t have many close friends, but I consider her my sister.

Wait, why 2-time world champion can’t request a separate room? And why don’t have Evgenia Medvedeva a private hour on rink?

It is okay everywhere when athletes live in one room. What's the problem? At least, we are the team. No one drives us on the luxury cars, we don’t fly business class. To Korea we flied economy class, as always. We had there the Space+ where we could stretch our legs. It wasn’t comfortable for me, I prefer to find a free place in the very end of a salon and lie down on the 3 seats at once. Turning to rink: I train with my group in our normal training regime. Sometimes we have dangerous situations, when you’re flying on ice on the big speed, doing elements and someone is staying on your way without noticing you. For that case we have a special word “UP!” When you’re realizing that he or she just can’t see you and you can have a terrible crash, you’re starting to scream “Up! Go away or it’ll be very bad!”. This is not uncommon to get bad injuries on practice rink.

So, Evgenia, you’re a girl that had no normal childhood?

And here it is, the most common misconception about athletes! I had a wonderful childhood. I played ball, catch-up, hide-and-seek  with my friends as all kids do – but we did it in gym, not in the court of school. I had much more competitive and traveling experience, that’s true. In 8, I already had visited many different towns and cities of Russia and in 14 I had my first competition abroad. It was in Riga [Latvia], my first Junior GP event.This was very cool! I and Maria Sotskova were in the foreign country for first time. We lived with Masha in one room and consistently messed around on the playground in front of hotel.

Is it hard to resist café and pastry shops when you’re abroad, is t? Do you need to limit candy yourself?  Maybe you can allow yourself a little cake at your birthday?

You know, I don’t like to celebrate my birthday. Heart just isn’t in it. Because it’ll come next day, and I’ll be already 19, not 18. What should I celebrate in this case? My favorite holiday is a New Year [In Russia, New Year is much more popular than Christmas]. And I never liked cakes and cupcakes. This is not delicious for me. But I’m always a sucker for a chocolate and marmalade. Now I’m trying to eat more dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate, because it’s healthier though more nutritious.

In other hand, every performance of yours seems to be a birthday for you: you receive many gifts and flowers. Do you take everything home?

I often bring flowers home. I love when all my room is in flowers. Mom and grand-mother, to be honest, shut the door to their rooms to avoid a strong flavor, but I adore it. And the most part of plush toys I donate to orphanages and hospitals. I love that I, mom, and grand-mother are very practical in that regard. We’re always trying not to spend the money without a reason, and we don’t do surprises to each other, like, never. What for, if you always can ask directly “What do you want?” instead of bringing home useless stuff? For example, before the New Year I asked mom and she said that she needs a wallet. We came to the mall and choose a wallet together, packed it in wrapping paper, and then I just offered her this wallet for New Year. Mom acted like she was very surprised: “Wow, this is exactly that I wanted!” And before Olympics I ordered  for myself a little ring with a brilliant, as a gift. I choose the frame and the stone by myself, and mom then offered it to me. I wear only real jewelry, not costume jewelry – it’s better to wear the same jewelry for a long time, main thing is that they are quality and well-made. For a 4 years I wear these rings and a little bracelet with a gold four-leaf clover. I sleep, I practice, I skate wearing them.

I know that your favorite actors are Benedict Cumberbatch and David Tennant. Did you thought to have a benefit from your popularity and ask someone to introduce you to them?

If I’ll perform in Great Britain, why not?

Recently you went to university for the specialization of trainer. You think to bind your life with sport forever?

I believe that someday I’ll pursue the second higher education in other field of activity. It’s too early to discuss. I have no Olympic gold yet, so I have a goal. A month for a rest and back on the rink, for practice. I hope I’ll jump a quad in 4 years. I fall on practice doing this so far, but people say that I fall beautifully. *laughs* via 

Translator’s note: I heard rumors that Zhenya falls from well-rotated quad salchow :”) so good to know that she already tries it having a good feeling about this.

[wordsablaze]

Serendipity

When the cat is away, the mice will play. When the Avengers are away, Peter will introduce Loki to Bowser, plan a magical prank, and figure out how to unite the team with the world of Mario. Enjoy!

A/N: I'm sorry, I just really love these two and basically could not function until I wrote this. Plus, I saw the new Infinity War posters and my brain went 'yup, we're going to obsess over marvel again' so that's that...

Peter has prepared himself for many things in life. For example, he's always prepared for a science pop quiz or a new lego challenge or even changing into his Spiderman suit within half a minute. What he's not prepared for, however, is to be assaulted by an unprecedented display of magic that seems to be a dangerous combination of magnificence and malice.

His head jerks up as the hairs on his arms stiffen in warning so he dives behind the counter just in time for debris to fly over his head in what's possibly the worst mockery of rain in the world. The falling glass and plaster more or less remind him of destructive snow, actually. Waiting until the sound of crumbling infrastructure fades, he peeks over the top of the counter and watches as the levitating stranger transforms the windows and doors into solid metal before turning the ceiling into something that looks like it's been plucked out of a Tim Burton film, then picking up the nearest object and turning it into ash without even blinking.

Instead of being worried or anything else remotely sensible along those lines, Peter's eyes widen in awe. "That's so cool!"

Instead of continuing to take advantage of an otherwise empty Avengers' tower, the stranger stills as he hears the compliment, his sceptre resting on the ground as the blue light fades.

"I mean, it's really impressive and it looks so easy! But I bet it's actually pretty difficult, right? Oh, uh, I'm sorry if you were expecting someone else, by the way... I love your crown helmet!"

"Crown helmet?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it has, like, a more sophisticated name but I can't think of one. Crown helmet works pretty well to be honest because it looks royal and ready for battle..." he pauses. "Wait, is why you're here? There's not really anybody here to fight you. Except me, I guess. But I don't think fighting someone with such cool magic is a good idea, even for me... Wait, you can't be here for a battle, can you? FRIDAY wouldn't have let you in if you were so you have to be a friend, right?"

"Who exactly are you?" the owner of the crown helmet asks eventually.

Peter grins and springs to his feet, ignoring his spidey sense entirely and hoping that the other man is indeed a friend. "Peter Parker."

It's only when Peter sees the man smirk with that iconic glint in his eyes that it dawns on him who he's talking to so he curses himself for getting carried away and not noticing before. "Oh my algorithms... You're Loki, aren't you? I've heard so much about you and all the stuff you've done! Actually, maybe I shouldn't have told you my name... Please don't hurt my friends or family!"

Loki doesn't even know how to react and that's a first for him. "I'm not always out to hurt people, you know?"

"Nor is Bowser but people peg him as the bad guy all the time..." Peter nods understandingly, even though he's internally thinking about how he doesn't really understand. Then he realises he does understand because he's in the same position. "And people think Spiderman's a bad guy but he's just, like, trying to help in his own way, you know? It's not his fault if stupid journalists label him as a vigilante and everyone else just goes with it."

"Who?"

"You don't know who Bowser or Spiderman are?" Peter looks so crestfallen that even a God out for vengeance has to take pity on him.

"I haven't exactly spent much time on Midgard?" he offers as an explanation.

Peter's eyes light up in understanding. "Oh, of course, right, okay... I can show you who they are if you like? We have to fight our way to Bowser though... We can even fight Bowser together! Wait, have you heard of video games? You must have, right? They're pretty much universal, aren't they?"

Loki has never so lost in the face of a Midgardian before. "No?"

"In that case, it's practically my duty to explain! Come on, uh- Lord Loki, you don't even know what you've been missing out on!" Not that anyone can ever know exactly what they're missing out on since, if they did, they wouldn't really be missing out, but that's not the point.

Despite having originally arrived to create chaos, Loki finds himself following the excited teenager, trying to convince himself he'd not been persuaded solely by the title he's been given.

He's led into the next room where a rather large television is mounted onto the wall and a small collection of boxes lies beneath it. Peter, only briefly glancing behind him to make sure nothing is on fire, selects one of the boxes and pries it open, removing a circular disc that he then feeds to a bigger black box. He watches as Peter uses one of the oddly-shaped black objects to navigate his way through a menu and selects one of the options that then triggers an opening scene with an odd man who seems to be Italian and Mexican at the same time.

"How does this show me who Bowser is?"

Peter shrugs. "Bowser is the final boss. We have to play our way to him."

"Play?" Loki scoffs, "I do not 'play' anymore."

"Well, I suppose you can watch me play instead if you prefer?"

"Watch...? You expect me to sit here and do nothing while you fight?"

Peter has nothing to say so he shrugs again.

"I will observe as you battle your way to my enlightenment," Loki finally settles on.

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agrees and starts on the first level on single player mode because a certain someone had accidentally deleted his progress in an attempt to reboot the device with lightning but he was only trying to help so he couldn't really be blamed. He flies through the first set of levels but gets stuck when he's all out of spare lives and can't figure out how to kill three mushrooms without sacrificing his progress.

"Jump over the secret bridge thing."

Startled, Peter jumps so high he drops the remote and accidentally releases his hold on a button, turning left in the game and subsequently causing Mario to fall off the cliff.

"No!" he cries, whacking the controller on his head. "Now I have to start over..."

"Next time, use the bridge."

"What bridge?" Peters asks as he restarts the level, then biting his upper lip to concentrate.

"The one that was above your head- wait, stop," Loki says, throwing an arm out as if he can communicate with Mario.

Peter, not wholly surprised this time, stops in a safe place and looks to Loki, a questioning look on his face.

"You see that wall?"

"Yeah?"

"Do the spinning leaf tail move on it."

Peter stifles his laugh and nods, doing as instructed. Immediately, he discovers a secret passage he hadn't seen before. Leaning back, he whistles. "How did you know that was there?"

"Wasn't it obvious?"

"Not really, no..." Peter mumbles.

Loki's smug expression softens just a little. "Perhaps we should take it in turns?"

Peter nods thoughtfully. "We can't both play because we're too far into the single-player mode... but I don't mind watching. Here!" he passes the controller to Loki, who takes it with his free hand.

After a moment of thought, he asks, "Would you like to hold my sceptre?"

Eyes widening, Peter gasps. "Can I?"

Loki smiles and holds it out, almost laughing as Peter tentatively reaches out, freezing as his hands touch it and slowly pulling it closer, practically stroking the chilled gold body.

"It won't break if that's what you're worried about."

Peter grins, euphoria in his eyes, "Thank you, Lord Loki."

"Now, how do I make this little man crawl through the wall?"

"Press the back butto- no, no, not that one, the other back button! Stop!" Peter warns just as Mario bursts into flames.

"That was beautifully violent."

"Maybe, but it means we have to redo the level now so..."

"Again?" Loki groans, handing the controller back to Peter with a dramatic twirl of his wrist.

Peter, to his credit, doesn't complain at all, simply keeping his eyes glued to the screen and getting Mario to squeeze through the wall before handing the controller back to Loki.

"It's this button, by the way..." Peter lets Loki test it out before he resumes the game and so Mario doesn't randomly burst into flames this time.

And thus, the level is completed.

And the next one.

And the next.

And so on.

Until the two of them, after Loki accidentally makes Peter fly in his annoyance of dying - to which Peter had responded by doing a cartwheel and making a note of the experience so he can retell it to Ned later- and various curses of several degrees, finally encounter Bowser.

"We did all that for a spiked turtle?" Loki huffs immediately.

"He's the king of the Koopas! And it's not like I forced you!" Peter argues.

"Oh, shhhhhhhhhhhhh-" Loki groans, "He just killed us."

"Are you serious?" Peter props the sceptre on the sofa, takes the controller from him and deftly retries the level, then progressing a couple more in his excitement. He doesn't fall even once but obviously, Loki has other ideas or he'd just gotten bored because he pokes Peter and causes the teenager's attention to waver, resulting in an exposed, defenceless Mario and an instant, completely boring death.

"Looooooooh-hokiiiiiiiiiiiii!" Peter whines, letting himself flop onto the sofa backwards, his feet draped over the back and his head hanging upside down, just a few centimetres off the ground.

"I'm sorry, little spider."

Peter doesn't think anything of the nickname until he does, at which point he rolls backwards and lands on his knees, breathless and slightly red. "What did you just say?"

Loki grins. "I might not have known who Bowser is but, since the whole invasion ordeal, I've spent enough time with Thor to learn some things from his frequent rambling about the Avengers."

"And?" Peter raises an eyebrow, his heart hoping that he'd been included in those tales but his head telling him Loki had probably seen his mask lying around or something.

"You fall under that title in his books, young spider."

Peter beams, his eyes positivity radiating joy and gratitude. "Thanks, Lord Loki!" he says and, without even thinking about it, he springs to his feet and wraps his arms around Loki, his face pressed to the not-so-surprisingly silky, green material.

"Oh, we're hugging now?" Loki asks, but not unkindly, awkwardly pacing his arms around the excited teen and trying not to let his smile through; it'd been a while since he'd been hugged and, if he was honest - which he rarely is - he'd missed the feeling.

Peter pulls away with a red face and wide eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think- I hope you don't mind hugs? Uh..."

"Untangle your anxious webs, young spider, I have nothing against embraces."

Loki smiles and Peter can feel his face heat up in a mixture of bashfulness, relief, and some kind of honour he can't quite decipher.

"You know, I definitely prefer Spiderman over Bowser."

"Really?" Peter's voice is at least two notches too high.

"Webs are so much better than stolen fireballs... His fireballs are not even nearly as impressive as mine anyway."

"Thank you!" Peter grins. "I prefer yours too..."

"May I inform you that the Avengers will be back in no more than three minutes?" FRIDAY alerts them, sounding way more amused than and an AI should ever be able to sound.

Peter hums in acknowledgement then grins and turns to Loki. "I have an idea."

"And I have a sceptre," Loki says, basically already having agreed to whatever Peter can ask.

Which is why, two minutes and forty seconds later, Tony walks in and abruptly stops, causing Steve and Bruce to crash into him and Thor to barrel into them, resulting in four stumbling men and a very exasperated Natasha and Clint.

"What on Earth?" Clint asks as they see Peter standing on the table with Loki's sceptre glowing in his hands.

"That's where you're mistaken, Mister Barton, the world in question is Asgard, not Earth." Peter has to fight with himself to avoid letting his amusement leak into his words. He ends up scowling at the Avengers, internally apologising but outwardly positioning himself to appear as angry as he possibly can.

"Is that Loki's?" Thor asks, frowning.

"It was," Peter corrects, smirking.

Tony narrows his eyes but it's not hard to tell he's just super worried rather than actually irked. "Pete, where did you get that?"

"And why are you on the table?" Steve asks. "Get down, you're going to hurt yourself."

Fleetingly glancing at Loki, who gives him a surreptitious thumbs up, Peter shrugs. "I got bored of waiting and decided to explore my options."

"Explore your options?" Natasha repeats blankly. "Out of everything you could have done, you chose to attack the Avengers with trickster's sceptre?"

Schooling his features into an expression of condescending scorn, Peter nods. "I am, after all, more than worthy of such a weapon."

That happens to be Loki's cue to clear his throat, effectively diverting their attention to where he's sat in the corner, wrapped up in webs. As they turn to him, he grimaces. "I wasn't aware you'd adopted someone worse than myself."

"Loki?" Thor's voice rises an octave as he glances at the same man who'd unleashed the tesseract supposedly defeated by a teenager with a radioactive spider bite and perhaps too much time on his hands.

"Well, obviously, moron. Aren't you going to, I don't know, kill him or something?" Loki asks, gesturing to Peter with his head.

Sharing a quick, confused but decisive look with Clint, Natasha steps forward. "Kid, I think we need to talk."

Peter shakes his head. "I think we need to stop talking and start giving me all the… Actually, we didn't plan this far so I guess we can just stop and leave it at that."

There's a moment where everybody opens their mouths to argue but finds themselves too shocked to say anything before Loki stands and walks towards Peter, brushing the webs away as he does, and Peter jumps off the table, standing in front of Loki so nobody shoots him in their confusion.

"What in the name of shawarma?" Tony exclaims finally, never having walking into something so strange.

"No, you iron idiot, it's called magic and theatrics." Loki smiles and, to everyone's utter bewilderment, ruffles Peter's hair.

"Did you guys finish an entire game of Mario?" Clint asks incredulously, obviously the first to notice the image of Bowser's bones on their television.

"No-"

"Yes-"

Peter and Loki glance at each other, trading glares that hold no malice whatsoever.

"You know what, this isn't even the craziest thing I've seen Peter do." Steve shakes his head and anyone who didn't know better would have cooed at the fondness in his voice.

Loki, sensing the tension in the air, coughs. "I'm no longer here to tear you all apart if that's what you're worried about."

Thor beams at him, moving forward to embrace him and totally forgetting about Peter, who gets trapped in the middle of them. Everyone watches as he protests quietly and manages to stick an arm out of the brothers' affectionate barrier, his head soon following as he dramatically crawls out to the side. Loki's remorseful and slightly irritated apology is muffled by Thor's unwanted but nonetheless comforting, congratulatory hug, which gives the rest of them a reason to laugh, except Tony who's quick to pull Peter away from the two Gods lest he gets squashed or injured in any way.

None of the Avengers can relax completely, which is only to be expected considering their history with Loki, but the anxiety in the room fades to negligible after a little while, the gang either retreating to their respective rooms to freshen up before they return or grabbing a snack and slowly accumulating in the living room, eventually being roped in to a game of Mario Kart by Peter, who's figured out exactly how to tick them all off enough to ensure their exasperation leads to them joining in to prove a point or using their annoyance as an excuse to succumb to their intrinsic desires of playing and winning a competative video time. Ultimately, when they're all squashed onto the sofa or the beanbags, personal space long dismissed, either actively controlling the characters with hilarious expressions of concentration or cheering each other on, their way of playing is a whole new experience and Peter has never felt so at home with them.

All in all, even though Peter wasn't prepared for such an eventful day - not that anyone can ever be prepared to fake a hostage situation with a God - he's more than glad to have been thrown into it. More often than not, he decides, strange parts of life are better encountered with an open mind instead of a meticulous itinerary that leaves no room for spontaneous craziness. He might technically be a superhero but, at the end of the day, he is also a teenager...

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

[cyberphuck]

Golden Afternoon

As much time as we spent together, Adrian and I didn't actually share a lot of classes: we had different homerooms and different lunch periods and were even in different biology classes with the same teacher, like the educational powers that be wanted to keep us apart.

Or his mom did. I didn't know what kind of stuff witches could do. Adrian said she did stuff with plants, but maybe she had a plant that could warp the fabric of reality to keep that pink-haired girl away from her beloved only child. Chastity plant. Cockblock plant.

But she couldn't actually forbid him from seeing me, because even Mrs. Varsh knew that would only lead to me immediately becoming pregnant with his baby or something. So I could still come and visit him in his mom's shop after softball practice.

The best time to hang out with Adrian without his mom looking over our shoulders and making sure we left room between us for the Mother Goddess was just after he closed up the shop, around six. School let out at four, and I got out of softball practice at five thirty, which meant that after taking the bus to the library on Superior street and walking down to what some people called "Broomstick Boulevard" I only had to loiter among the foxglove and bergamot for fifteen minutes before Adrian locked the front door and we could hang out upstairs in the house, or downstairs in his mom's work room, where we were definitely not allowed to be under any circumstances. She kept a lot of cool stuff in there, though.

On a warm, bright afternoon on a day that hadn't bothered deciding whether it was late spring or early summer, I pushed open the door to Mrs. Varsh's apothecary shop, hearing the bell on the door jingle at the same time that magic prickled up my arm. Adrian called the feeling "like a spider wearing stilettos," and it got sharper the stronger the magic was. Sometimes it was pleasant. Other times not so much.

A pink-haired sophomore in dirt-smeared white pants and a Cooperhawks jersey didn't really fit in most places, but I stuck out like a goddamn pink-haired high schooler in a softball uniform in the shop, practically neon-bright in a place that was all earthtones and dusty sunlight filtering through the front window. There were three customers still browsing when I came to lean against the front counter where Adrian was marking things down in a ledger in his awful scribbly handwriting. He flashed me a "too cool and handsome to smile" look in greeting, and I gave him a "it's good to be so much cooler than anyone over thirty" nod back before turning to inspect what were considered impulse buys for a witch: bundles of sage, glass bottles, crystals of every color. Adrian was one of the slouchiest, sneering, fuck-the-system people I knew, so it was always weird to watch him stand up straight and smile charmingly at customers as they approached the counter, the piercings in his lips flashing as he said things like "Good afternoon Ms. Hemlock" and "Yes ma'am" and "Have a wonderful evening, say hello to the other ladies in your coven." I knew his mom was strict about manners, especially when it came to people who could give you crossed eyes and watery shits for a week if you pissed them off, but I still snickered at him and got a sub-zero glare in return.

A couple of sales and "Thank you ma'am, come back soon"s and insincere smiles later, Adrian was finally able to dash up to the front door and lock it, flipping the sign hanging in the window to 'CLOSED.' "I thought that broad with the purple hat was never going to decide what strain of marigold she wanted," he groaned as he came back to the counter. "For fuck's sake, if you've got a rash just get some cream for it. There's a reason western medicine exists, people, it's because it, like, works."

"It wasn't for a spell?"

"Nobody uses marigold in spellwork," Adrian snorted. "It's the main ingredient in poultices for skin conditions. She had her hands bandaged. Either she's been carving runes directly into her palms, which is stupid as hell, or she's got some kind of itch from forgetting to wash her hands after she works."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew."

"Ew is right, and I wish they'd just take it to the clinic, because when mom finds out she's gonna make me wipe everything down with vinegar and lemon again." He leaned against the counter. "As if she isn't already piling work on me. I told her that if she wanted a slave, she should just build a Construct."

My eyebrows went up. "You said that to your mother?"

He shrugged. "Yeah." A pause. "Sort of. But she's been making me do all kinds of boring shit-- grinding down herbs, cleaning out the silk screens, poking plants."

"Grunt work," I said, stepping behind the counter and looking at the boxes of crystals lined up beside the cash register. "I bet you wouldn't have to do that stuff if you were a girl."

He throws his hands up. "I know! I'd be elbow-deep in all kinds of cool witchy shit by now if I were a chick, but I'm not even allowed to practice magic just because I'm a son instead of a daughter. I don't want to wear a pointy hat and dance naked under the moon or anything, I just want to learn to lay runes a little better. I've been looking at them, a little, and I think I can almost understand how they work. If I could just get a little training-- but if I even mentioned it to my mom, she'd freak out."

"That's bullshit." Stuck into a corner beside the register is a little white box about half the size of my hand; I winkle it out with my finger and then pull it towards me to open it.

"She hasn't found out yet, but I've been experimenting with-- oh shit, don't open that, Ash!"

I grin, already pulling the lid off. "What's in there, a horrible gooey demon? Severed finger? Used needle?" Nestled on a bed of cotton is a shiny black stone, a little chunkier than I was used to seeing in the shop. Someone's carved a simple little rune into it, rubbed with gold leaf to make it stand out.

"Don't look, it was supposed to be a surprise," Adrian whined, then shook his head. "God, I'm glad there isn't actually anything dangerous in there, I'd have a hard time explaining your stupid dead ass to my mom when she gets home."

"It's pretty," I said, staring down at it. "...Is it safe to touch?"

"Now you ask me," Adrian muttered. "Yeah, you can touch it. Just don't drop it, it's pretty fragile. I broke two of those damn things carving the rune before I figure out how to do it with a lighter hand."

I lifted the crystal out of the cotton, running a thumb over the rune. "What is it?"

"Black tourmaline." He wasn't looking at me. "It's a pretty standard protection crystal, with a really simple strengthening rune on it to make it, uh, louder." He rolled his shoulders stiffly, trying to look casual and failing. "It's for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah for you, and it was gonna be a surprise but you've got klepto hands apparently," he said, cheeks pink. "I was gonna cage it in something nice, like silver, and get a chain for it so you could wear it around your neck. It dispels negative energy and stuff. I thought you'd like it."

I could feel myself smiling, the crystal warming in my hand. "I do like it. It's really cool."

"...You think so?"

"Yeah. The gold looks good too." I looked up at him. "I know you could get into a lot of trouble for making this for me. It's kind of badass. Thanks, Adrian."

"Uh." He lifted his chin. "Yeah. You're welcome. I mean, you can't have it yet, it's too fragile to just carry around. But, uh. You're welcome."

"You said that." I leaned across the counter to kiss him on the cheek. "Dumbass. Hey, do you think your mom would let you off Saturday? They're doing that music thing in the park. I think it's just a dumb local band, but there's food trucks there too."

"Uh."

"Lots of people from school are going. If you want."

"Yeah, I--" he swallowed. "Yeah, I want. I mean." He cleared his throat. "It sounds okay. I'll go if you're going."

"You can text me tonight," I said, setting the crystal back in it's padded box and replacing the lid. "How long until your mom gets home? I brought that song I keep telling you about. You've got the thing to hook up to your stereo, right?"

Adrian shook his head, as if waking up from a dream. "Somewhere. I think it's in a drawer upstairs. C'mon." - Ko-Fi Twitter: @su1cidesauce

[lunastwilightblog]

“Lillian” part 2!

Part one

Words: 2767

So I’ve finished the second part of my first fic, which I’ve out under the cut here, I’d love to know what you all think of it💖

A pained expression crossed Aro’s face as he put his hands back together, under his chin. Lillian waited for him to speak, her nerves wrecking her insides but her lungs taking in slow, steady breaths. In the light of the early day she noticed a tree in the corner of the garden, by the wall over which she’d climbed. It was a young tree; smaller than other ones of its kind she had seen, yet just like them in that its brown bark was peeling away to reveal a grey inner layer, and its dark green fingers of leaves rustled softly in the new breeze. The day was beginning. Yet, there was no birdsong.

Aro’s soft voice harshly broke the silence, snapping her attention back to him. “How wonderful it is that you are here, my love. What you have suffered is truly, truly horrific.” She opened her mouth to ask him how he knew what she had been through, but he continued. “My gift is centred in the palm of my hands. With one touch,” he smirked, “I can hear every thought one has ever had.”

Lillian did not know whether to be alarmed by this or not. He had read her mind? He had heard every single one of her thoughts? Her mind had been violated too, now? She thought she should have been disturbed and upset, yet all she could utter was the question: “so you understand me?” Then she was frightened. He had experienced everything she had through her mind. What if he had been hurt by what he saw? “I’m sorry if it was too . . .” Your experience has nothing on other people, I bet, what you’ve been hurt by is nothing. You’re just weak.

“Do not fret, sweet one. Though of course I am disturbed by what you have undergone, you need not worry about me.” He lifted her chin gently with his fingertips, and only then did she notice she was crying. “You have my deepest sympathy, Lillian.” He looked into her eyes, sternly. “You are safe now, I will make sure of it.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed. Why is he so kind? I don’t deserve this.

“You are worth much more than you allow yourself to believe.”

She shook her head. “But you know I can’t do anything special,” she replied as she diverted her eyes back to the tree.

Aro raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened. “Quite on the contrary!”

“Hmm?” She was confused. If he’d really heard her thoughts, he would know as much as she did – that she wasn’t special, and that she didn’t have some sort of magical power.

“My darling Lillian, you have one of the most powerful and exciting gifts I have ever happened upon in all my years!” All his years? He looked in his late twenties at the oldest to her eyes. And what did he mean about a powerful gift? It wasn’t as if she could fly. She wondered that maybe he really was a madman as she’d considered earlier. A very convincing madman.

“What do you mean?” Though slightly more confident, her voice was still very quiet, and unsure.

“Sweetling, you are in Volterra. This night, while suffering from painful, debilitating injuries and near starvation and dehydration,” – he raised his palms up in wonder – “you walked twenty-three miles. That should have killed you.”

Twenty-three miles? That could not be right. “How is that a gift?”

Aro grinned, and tilted his head to the side, clasping his hands together again. “You do not remember the instance when you were electrocuted in a bathtub at three years old. That, too, should have killed you, and so should have many, many other incidents through which you have endured. La mia cara, your gift is a gift indeed. It seems, that quite possibly, you possess the inability to die.”

Oh.

“That . . . makes sense.” She gave him a smile. “Thank you.” She was unsure of what she was thanking him for, but she felt as if she needed to. This stranger had been kinder to her than anyone she had ever known before, and she was very grateful. She looked into his eyes as she thought about this, and a question formed on the tip of her tongue. His eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Si, of course.”

She felt unsure about this question. She didn’t want to offend her new friend. An abrupt gust of wind blew her hair into her mouth as she braved asking. “Why do you have red eyes?”

He suddenly looked up, to the sky. “It is getting light. I’m enjoying our little chat; shall we continue it inside?” He stroked her cheek delicately. “You must be needing to sleep. I will answer your question in a moment.” His tone was comforting, and she was comfortable with him putting his arm around her as they stood up, and as he guided to her to the plain, mahogany door in the side of the building that made up one side of the garden wall.

Inside was a corridor that angled downwards, into the hill. It was plain, with industrial grey carpet and white walls with tube lighting. It didn’t fit with Aro’s look – he was smart, and his features perfect, not a single smooth, perfectly straight hair out of place. This corridor was too out of place; fake, a façade. It smelt wrong, too, Lillian thought. It was like fresh paint and dust, unlike Aro, whose breath was even pleasant. His hand was placed gingerly on her waist, and though it was a comforting gesture, Lillian couldn’t help but feel unnerved about her proximity to him. Like this corridor, something about him was . . . off.

Soon the atmosphere of the passageway changed, and they came to a harsh iron gate, its grills stretching from wall to wall. It was a fearsome thing, but Aro unlocked and opened the heavy door with ease. It did not creak.

He led her through another short series of plain corridors leading downwards until she was sure that they were underground and she began to panic internally and her throat felt as if it were closing up and she suddenly clung onto Aro to avoid falling. He looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she stammered, “just claustrophobia.” She tried to stabilise herself and took several quick, deep breaths.

He removed his hand from her waist and took a few steps away from her.

“No,” she protested. “Not you. Underground.”

“I’m afraid most of our small company here reside underground.” He touched the top of her arm, something Lillian was aware people did when they wanted someone to like them, or when they were being persuasive. She didn’t mind though, he was clearly only trying to help her. “They are all very talented, just like us. Would you like to meet them?”

Who was he? Was this where all the freaks like her came to live? Had she been that lucky? No, not lucky. If I am apparently gifted, and I am hated and tortured for what I can do and I can’t even do something as cool as Aro, and people hate me for only being related to people who had powers . . . If that boy and girl really existed . . .

Then they’ve suffered as much as me. The notion broke her heart. She couldn’t fathom the idea of other people being hurt. The troublesome thought made her forget her claustrophobia.

She was unsure if she wanted to meet these people. And she was still sceptical over whether Aro was telling the truth. “I am, don’t you worry.” He gave her a small, warm smile. He read my mind! Aro chuckled. “Yes, I can.” He tilted his head to the right, down the hallway. “Shall we?”

The door at the end of this, wooden floored hallway was astonishingly ornate. Gold leaf adorned the frame and the delicate swirling pattern, and several large red rubies embellished the coil of each of the swirls. Lillian was in awe. It’s amazing. “If you like jewels, I have many more lying around that you could have, perhaps, if you take a liking to them.” Lillian’s mind was distracted from the door now, her eyes watching the CCTV camera pointed at them.

All of the ideas whizzing around her head about the possibilities of how these new people would be; how Aro’s home looked; how she could cope immersed in a world she knew nothing about – none of them could have prepared her for what she saw beyond the door. It was magnificent display of a hallway; sparkling black marble stretched out in front of her, in the floor and the walls, the ceilings a majestic crimson, and the grand golden doors on both sides decorated with cerise curtains, shadowing them from the several crystal chandeliers hanging in even intervals along the ceiling. Small glass tables sat between some of the doors, situating small items like a bunch of flowers in a vase, and miniatures of the statues from the garden. This suited Aro more.

He nudged her gently in the small of her back and took her to the end of the corridor, and opened a door there on the right, by a small potted primula vialii. There was no hint of dust on the table. This place was spotless. Lillian stepped inside this new room, and was again greeted by a stark contrast in colours. This room was gold; a rich, delicate gold created with the same gold leaf that beautified the door earlier, but now played Midas on the ceiling, the room’s corners and between the glittering black stones of the floor. The light in this room was entirely artificial, again emitted from grand but not gaudy chandeliers, and it was cold, unlike the town aboveground. Its shape was uniquely octagonal, and upon each of the eight walls was a gorgeous, colourful renaissance era painting, though she recognised none. A few people were scattered around this room in small groups, and all had turned to face the door when Lillian and Aro entered, but Lillian’s eyes were drawn to the centre of the room to a high dais, upon which sat five thrones, all as unique and as magnificent as the others, embellished with their own designs and precious stones. Two men and two women already sat upon four of them, the one in the centre empty. They were all staring at her, and she shied away behind Aro.

“What is this, Aro?” Questioned the man on the throne furthest to Lillian’s right. He was tall in stature but his hollow cheeks and white hair gave the impression of being weak and frail, yet the clarity and confidence of his voice stood as a bare refutation of that idea. She watched him curiously.

Aro took Lillian by the arm and pulled her gently towards the centre of the room. “Dear Caius, this is Lillian. She has a wonderful gift!” Wonderful didn’t look like a word Caius had ever said in his life, as he glared at Lillian sourly. “She cannot die!” Aro rejoiced. “Even after struggling more than twenty miles in her condition she has not even thought once about water, or food. Such a marvel!”

Caius’s response was heavily cynical in tone. “And how will that be of benefit to us? If anything, it serves to be a problem now she knows too much.”

“Brother, I thought you would understand. She has this gift now, thus has the potential to evolve into something more powerful when she is one of us. Perchance,” he looked back at Lillian and smiled again, “she may be able to protect others than herself from harm.”

Protect people? Is that what he was on about earlier when he said there was a chance she could have a power and not hurt anyone? But something else in their conversation made her hairs stand up on end. When she is one of us. What did he mean by that?

Her soft, scared voice was barely audible to her own ears as she spoke. “When I’m like you?”

A tall and brooding man in plain clothes standing by the painting to the left of the door locked eyes with her. His were a menacing red, like Aro’s. She looked away, back to Caius, who was glaring at Aro, paying Lillian no attention. She couldn’t discern the colour of his eyes from this distance.

Aro wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and when his cold, hard skin touched hers she suddenly understood. These people, whoever they were, weren’t exactly . . . human.

Aro heard her distress and quickly adjusted his expression to comfort her. “Like us? Yes indeed.” His other hand stroked her cheek gently, but it served more to unnerve her than to console. Surprisingly, it was her own conscience that told her what she needed to hear. If they were going to hurt you, they would have done it already. Didn’t you hear Aro? He wants you to be like him. He read your mind and still he likes you, he wants you here. Someone wants me.

She had to agree with that, and Aro relaxed, having heard her conclusion too, though it was Caius who spoke first. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“Tol-,” Lillian began, but the frosty glower Caius was giving her made her quiet. Told me what? She thought, looking up at Aro. Her eyes flickered back to the dais when the woman on the throne by Caius rose, and stepped over to stand beside him and take his hand. She was beautiful; tall, and thin, with long, thick white hair. She must be his wife.

“Brother, please be less harsh toward this young one. She has suffered enough today.” He stood up straight, and took away his hand from her shoulder. “We are vampires, my love.”

Vampires?

She jumped as a sudden snort of laughter erupted nearby, only realising a moment later it was hers.

“Is there something wrong with her?” Caius asked Aro, but Aro only chuckled.

“Are you alright, Lillian?”

All of her fear swiftly fled her body, and she breathed deeply, somehow relieved. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just . . . didn’t expect . . . vampires.” A crystal from a chandelier twinkled in the corner of her eye. “I’m not scared.” She smiled. If she were a vampire, immortal, she would certainly never be caught and sent back to her basement in England to rot until old age. She could never get hurt again, and live forever, with this man here, who seemed to care so much more for her than anyone else ever had. She felt that she owed him. She owed him her life, and she was giving it to him. “If you meant that you’d like me to be a vampire too, I can do that.”

Aro rubbed his hands together and smirked. “Contrarily-,”

“Contrarily?” Caius snapped. Lillian was beginning to take a strong dislike to that vampire, who forever seemed to be interrupting with unnecessary passionate scorn. Maybe she had missed something.

Aro put his face in his palm for a brief moment, apparently irritated.

The other man on the thrones spoke up then. He was unlike Caius, with black hair waving to his shoulders, an average build and a face that wore an expression of eternal boredom. Perhaps he’d had too much of Caius’s constant picking, like Aro seemed to have had. “You should turn her now, Aro, if that’s what you believe her talent to be. She could save us a great tragedy.” His voice was deep like Aro’s but far more whispery, and fainter, as if he were not quite there.

Aro nodded. “Of course, Marcus, I will turn her as soon as it is appropriate.” He moved so fast then, too fast for Lillian’s eyes to register he had moved until his face came creepily close to hers, and his hands rested upon both her shoulders. “But first, there is something else of high importance she can help us with.”

Me, a human, help with something that’s really important to vampires? She was immediately interested. He thinks I could be good at something?

She and Caius spoke synchronously. “What is it?”

“Lillian, we are, hmm, what you may consider the vampire form of law-enforcement,” Aro explained, “recently, we happened upon a type of case we had not judged afore. I believe your particular gifts can help us reach a final conclusion.”

Devilishly, Caius smirked.

[zoenightstars]

pjo musical: the rundown

so i went to see the lightning thief with @angelicomma yesterday and um. oKAY GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS LEMME TELL U ABOUT THIS MOTHER!FUCKIN! SHOW!!!! because it was SO GOOD this is just like. the short list of what i loved about it because oh my god 

prepare for the longest post ever 

the set was such an aesthetic? it was all very metallic like there was scaffolding and greek columns with graffiti on them? it was very chb and very nyc and overall a Blessing 

every time they needed to show a different location they’d do it with the lights so like there were these lights lining the scaffolding that would change color ?? in the underworld they’d flash red, yellow and orange and were made to look like fire and near the ocean theyd be blue and if they were talking about trees itd be green and! if they wanted u to focus on a certain part of the scaffolding it’d be a different light color than any of the other parts which was rad af

the overhead lights were used really well too like when percy was singing about being the son of poseidon or when there was water the lights would be blue and when they were in the forest theyd be green

there is an entire song about how they hate new jersey and how they refuse to die in the garden state. know this

the show was very low budget like oh my god it was great

they didnt make some of their own props so sally walked in once with a trader joe’s bag and also the most important bag in the world (containing the master bolt) was a fucking jansport 

their representation of water was just to attach toilet paper rolls to leaf blowers and turn the overhead lights blue like what even

they covered the first 4 rows in toilet paper at one point 

also they fuckin deca-casted everyone except for percy (chris mccarrell, the light of my life actually he was so good) 

jonathan raviv played chiron, auntie em, random chb girl in a bike helmet and braids (?), random tractor guy (?), a bus driver, a train conductor, hades, and poseidon and im probably missing someone. he had very distinctive characters for all of them not to mention horse puns 

“the gods are kind of dicks”

medusa’s eyes were just light up swim goggles

sarah beth pfeifer, who probably has the best comic timing ive seen ever, played clarisse, katie gardner, a fucking squirrel?, mrs. dodds, lotus casino girl, random camper assistant to mr. d, and thalia 

*chases annabeth down a flight of stairs with a sword while screaming* 

“for their sixteenth birthdays my friends all got cars. I got a fern and a mason jar!” 

“ARROWS ARE MADE WITH WOOD. I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN AN ACTIVITY THAT CONDONES VIOLENCE AGAINST OUR ARBOR BRETHREN!”

they had the most roles and they were GREAT 

george salazar was such a wonderful grover and mr d oh man 

mr d’s whole gag was he’d kick a chair when he got pissed which was hysterical bc the camper assistant would start pouting every time and he also wanted to turn percy into a dolphin 

“grover, are you ever going to wear pants again?” “NOPE!” 

his solo song was about thalia and how he couldnt save her talk about EMOTIONAL he cried

dam jokes

“we might have more drachmas if you didnt spend them on those DAM SNACKS” “HEY! IT WAS THE HOOVER DAM” 

let me talk about. carrie compere for like multiple hot seconds bc GODDAMN GIRL CAN SANG 

she was such a good sally. can she be my mom. she sang a song abt percy being special and wonderful and i got a lil teary 

“you saved my life, percy. It’s time i learned how to live it.” cryin g 

her silena was really funny? like very whiny but very funny.

 “every time i bring a boy home, my mom’s there in her nightie [...] she steals my mascara and all my dates!” 

she also played sort of charon? underworld guide in this awesome gold dress (she looked SO GOOD) who smacked grover’s goat ass (?????) 

“you know, bringing people to the underworld isn’t my only job. I also have a band. wanna hear a demo?” “not really?” “sorry, i can’t hear you over this SWEET ASS RIFF” 

“We got everyone! we got kurt kobain, we got beethoven. any requests?” “um, do you have josh groban?” “we will.” 

JAMES! HAYDEN ! RODRIGUEZ! was sO GOOD AS LUKE

THERE WAS A GOOD KID REPRISE AND I WAS SHOOKEN 

“being a good kid gets you nowhere at all” bruh 

they couldn’t have a scorpion onstage so luke just. fucking stabs percy in the back??? 

He was also a really funny ares and gabe!! 

ok and my gal KRISTIN STOKES 

fun fact abt me and kristin stokes ..... so we were walking in the same direction after stage door and so me and @angelicomma just walked with her....to the train.... she gave us dessert recs...... and talked about the show (she’s so salty about how rangey her big solo is but trust me she was so good on that song) and also waitress with us.... it was the best experience of all time she is so nice and cool and was wearing jurassic park leggings how rad is she oh my god

her annabeth? was awesome? she was witty and tough and aggressive and i was ABOUT IT 

she called out sexism all the damn time 

“annabeth, i get it. do you know how many schools i’ve been kicked out of?” “yeah, percy, but when boys mess up they get a second chance.” 

“hey, annabeth, who’s your dad?” “he’s a history professor.” “i thought everyone’s dad was-” “a god? that’s my mom. sexist.” 

longest yeah boi ever 

the moment where she betrayed luke at the end??? YES GIRL

chris mccarrell was such a perfect percy i am elated 

“Tartarus? LIKE THE FISH SAUCE???!!!?!?!” 

*swings riptide like a lightsaber while making lightsaber noises* 

*packages medusa’s head* “To Mount Olympus. Signed, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” “the gods will think we’re impertinent!” “*winning smile* we are impertinent.” 

*pouts* “i know how to hold a sword! like this!” annabeth corrects him and he swings it “oh wow actually that’s a lot easier” 

in good kid he was like? running around the stage and climbing the scaffolding and shit? and i cried??? the no mom line was the WORST i wanted to actually scream and his voice is so pretty 

and he was so shook by his own powers oh man 

he was just. so good at the twelve year old thing it was fantastic he was all fidgety and Dramatic (tm) god bless

he loves sally so much!!! all the demigods were salty af abt their parents and he was just quietly singing like “my mom loves hugs and scary movies” and i just. screamed quietly

there were rlly cute percabeth moments too. 

 percy’s knocked tf out the first time annabeth meets him (she infiltrates his dream a lil) and he sings a lil song abt how she’s beautiful and stuff and he wakes up and she’s all “YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP” shook 

she shows up at capture the flag (percy hasnt officially met her yet) and he points at her and was just “gasps YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!” and annabeth side-eyes him hardcore and he goes “UM. THE GIRL. FROM MY DREAM.” 

“the god is my mom. sexist.” “NO NO I LOVE GIRLS!” annabeth is shook yet again and percy panics and is like “I MEAN UM THEYRE VERY NICE” 

percy gets serious side eye from luke

it’s great  

when percy gets stabbed they almost kiss and then grover RUNS ONSTAGE “HEY! here’s your ambrosia percy” goddamn it was DRAMATIC

im definitely missing shit but oh boy it was so so good

i’d kill a man for that soundtrack  

if you have the chance (and the money) it’s just. such an Experience and everything i could have ever dreamed of. the cast is great (and theyre all so freakin NICE s/o to kristin especially). 

i’d highly recommend it!!! A+ 1000/10

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING

CHAPTER FOUR

Rheil seemed to be taking side corridors and servant entrances through the castle because they did not come across another giant the entire way, though the little girl could hear them just beyond the walls. Some were laughing, others having heated arguments. She even heard someone scream and demand to know where Jae had run off to.

Whoever this Jae person was, he seemed to be in almost as much trouble as the little girl.

The Captain pressed open a door and walked into an empty corridor. This one was lavishly furnished with a bright red carpet running down its length and impossibly large tapestries were hung on the walls. Rheil walked a short distance before he stopped in front of a large set of double doors. He lightly knocked on the wood.

“Enter,” came the muffled reply.  

As Rheil stepped inside, the girl was overcome with smell of parchment and wood. When she saw what lay inside the room, it was no wonder. The walls were filled with books, tall shelves stretching to the ceiling and filled with large tomes and the like. The back wall was dominated by a large stained glass window depicting a figure, a giant probably, holding up a crown. Behind him was a tall mountain and a river flowing at his feet. There were words on either side of the figure, but she could not read them.  

In front of the window was a large ornate desk. Stags were carved into the front and sides, their great antlers being gilded with gold leaf. A single giant sat at the desk, a large tome sitting open in front of him. His eyes were scanning the pages, one hand lazily sweeping across the parchment as his other hand was pressed to his lips in contemplation.

The Gold King was not dressed in lavish silks and bright colors as the little girl thought a King should be. He wasn’t wearing a speck of gold either. Instead, he wore a plain red tunic and brown trousers. His messy long black hair looked unkempt as though he had just woken up and had not bother to dress properly for the day. Why would he bother to dress up for a human, anyway? His eyes rose from the text of the tome and took in the form of both Rheil and the little girl, his cool stare turned steely.

Leaning back in his chair, he made a beckoning motion with one hand and Rheil walked forward with stiff practice strides of a person with military experience. When he stopped just short of the desk, he gave a swift bow. The little girl squeaked as she gripped the giant’s arm at the motion.  

“Your Majesty,” Rheil said. “I’ve brought the human child Yale found. And a message from Farris. He requested you read it prior to any decisions to be made concerning the girl.”

Rheil passed the small folded parchment to the King, bending far over the desk so the King only had to reached out to receive the note. The King silently opened the note, scanning it’s words before placing it down on his desk and returning his gaze to the human girl.

“So, I am told you helped yourself to some of the fruit meant for my wedding feast,” he said, void of emotion. His voice was smooth and practiced as someone who was accustomed to addressing others with his authority. There was no anger, nor was there any warmth. “I do not tolerate thievery in my lands. The punishment for such crimes are steep. Do you have anything to say in your defense, human?”

The King gestured for Rheil to sit the human down on the desk and he complied. The little girl’s legs wobbled as she stood, a mixture of fatigue, fear, and hunger. She clasped her hands in front of her, shoulders trembling and she opened her mouth to say something, but found that her words just died in her throat.

When the girl failed to answer, the Gold King frowned.

“I would have the full story before any decisions are made. So I suggest you find the fortitude to answer my questions. I am very unhappy to bare such an insult, on my wedding day of all days.”

She felt the hot tears before she realized she was crying. The King’s eyes narrowed further.

“Tears won’t help you, child,” he warned. “Answer me or I will pass my judgment now.”

The girl gulped hard against the lump in her throat, her legs buckling beneath her, but some how she did not fall to her knees. She took in a long fortifying breath.

“I did...do it,” she answered, voice cracking. “I...I only wanted one, but I got stuck and...then the wagons were moving and I couldn’t get out and then the Gate and...I’m sorry.”

There was stone silence.

“So you passed the Gate without proper papers of passage as well? Theft and trespassing. Grave crimes indeed. I was under the impression you were from the Hill tribes, but you’re not, are you?”

She shook her head meekly, trying not to linger too much on the word ‘grave’, and quickly wiped away the torrent of tears flowing from her eyes. She could not stop from crying.

“Do you know the punishment for that one simple act alone?” She shook her head, not meeting the King’s glare. She did know, she knew the stories, but hoped that it would not be true for her.

“Death.”

That word struck as hard as any weapon and all hope for mercy shattered at her feet. Her knees buckled again and she fell. Her head swam and she pulled herself into a ball and started to openly sob. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to trespass!”

“Only to steal.” It wasn’t a question.

“I just wanted something to eat. I tried to work, honest! But no one wanted to take me and all the Port Masters said no and...I...I’m sorry. I was just hungry...”

“Port? The Southland Port? Why would you be seeking work from the Beastmen? Those docks are notorious, even reaching our ears here, and hardly the place for a human. Least of all a small girl. What were you doing there really?”

“Lots of folks from the village work for the Beastmen now...because of the fire.”

A pause.

“What fire may that be?”

“The fire that destroyed our fishing fleet. We were starving and we lost so many people. Most of the women got job from the Port Masters, but they didn’t want me because I’m too small and...”

A pause.

“Who did you lose in the fire?” The King asked, his tone softer than it had a moment before.

“...my uncle.”

“And where are you’re parents in all this?”

After a moment, she shook her head.

“So you’re an orphan.” The King did not sound surprised.

She nodded, scrubbing at her eyes again. There was an uncomfortable silence that settled over the room. She could heard Rheil’s leather armor creek as he shifted from foot to foot. She could hear the King’s breath as he breathed. The pounding of her own heart was deafening.

“A fire destroys a fishing village’s main source of food and commerce, killing a large portion of its men, leaving mostly women and children to fend for themselves. A starving orphan tries to pilfer a piece of fruit and ends up being stuck in the caravan that is destined to pass through the Gate and enter Vhasshal. Have I got the facts correct?”

She nodded.

“Some would say catching the Red Reap was divine punishment,” said the King. “But I don’t believe the Gods hold any interest in the frivolity of mortals. Least of all the makings of my Wedding day feast. The Reap takes what it will. And yet, despite that, you’re still alive. Not many can say that they lived through the fever. The only person I know who did was left blind by it. And yet here before me stands a small human girl who is neither dead nor blind. Rather amazing it is not?”

The little girl just nodded, not daring to disagree with the very large man who was about to decide if she would live or die.

He sighed in annoyance at her lack of speech.

“Stand up, girl. I detest groveling.” The little girl pushed herself onto her knees and then stumbled to her feet. She looked up. The King was sitting straight in his chair, a feathered quill in his hand as he added something to the bottom of Farris’s note and then he looked up to meet the girl’s nervous gaze. “I have come to a decision.”

The little girl took in a shuttering breath, feeling the bottom of her stomach fall to the floor.

“Rheil,” said the King, holding out the note. “Deliver this to Farris. His request has been granted. And stop by the forge and tell Hev we’ll be needing a marker. One with the Crown’s crest and with Farris’s seal.”

Rheil nodded. “Surely a footman would suffice, m’lord? I do have rounds this mornin’.”

The King returned smirked, reaching over to the side of the desk and picking up a bell, giving it a strong ring before setting it back down. “And deprive Farris of his revenge?”

Rheil’s furrowed his brows. “Your majesty?”

“You still have jelly on your face, Rheil. Seems this one isn’t the only one sneaking treats from the kitchens.”

“Ah, damn,” Rheil muttered a curse, swiping a hand across his mouth, and looking down at the girl. “Ya could’a said something.”

The door to the room opened and another giant stepped inside. “You rang, m’lord?”

“Yes,” replied the King. “Please fetch Lolly for me.”

“I, uh...believe she’s still searching for Jae, sire.”

The King sighed, shaking his head. “She’ll never find him. He’ll come out when he’s good and ready. Which might not be for a few days. I’m sure he’s nursing quite the hangover. His dented pride certainly. And you can tell her I said as much. I need her in here as soon as possible. Jae can wait.”

“Very good m’lord.” The giant turned and left the room.

“Please make sure our dear Spice Master gets his answer, Rheil. And don’t let Farris bust you too badly. You’re useless to me broken.”

The Captain gave a small resigned sigh and turned away. “Very good m’lord.”

And suddenly the little girl found herself alone in the large room with the Gold King. His eyes focused in on her.

“Am...I...uh...” the girl sputtered.

“Hm? What is it, child?”

The little girl was so scared and her stomach was clenched so hard it hurt. Her heart hammered so noisily in her head and her lungs were frozen, feeling for all the world as though she would never take another breath.

“…are you going to have me killed, sire?” her voice was barely above a whisper. She couldn’t manage anything else. She trembled under the intense scrutiny of the giant and she vaguely wondered if it was worth trying to run. But the idea was fleeting. She would never make if off the desk. And if she did without breaking something, she would be caught easily. Just as she had before.  

The King’s silence was answer enough and the little girl looked down at her feet, feeling the terrible cold dread drip down her spine like ice water. Her bottom lip trembled and fresh tears poured down. There came a creek of wood as the King shifted and every muscle in her little body stiffened.

She felt a hand, large and warm, press against her arm and side. A thumb wiped across her wet cheek gently and she opened her eyes in fear and confusion. The King was looking at her and not unkindly.

“No,” he said finally. The steel of his eyes was gone, replaced with something more patient and understanding. “You have broken my laws, yes. And there will be recompense for it, do not doubt me there. But I will not take your life. Such laws exist to protect my people, my Kingdom, and I see no threat to either of those in you, little one. For the crime of trespassing, I pardon you. On the matter of theft however...”

The little girl could not believe her ears and suddenly blurted out, “You’re...not gonna have me cooked? Or...or...”

The King, despite the interruption, only appeared momentarily displeased before picking up on the little girl’s words.

“Eaten?” the King finished, the edges of his mouth turning into an amused smile. “It’s what my father would have done. He would not have even entertained the idea of this meeting. In all likelihood, he would have given you to the guards at the first hearing of you. But as you might have guessed: I am not my father. His blood lust died with him.”

“I’m not gonna die?”

“Everyone dies, little one. But you will not die this day nor by my hands,” replied the King. “As I was saying: I’ll be sending you to Farris. He is the head of the Kitchens and Spice Master. I believe you met already.”

She nodded, not sure how sending her to the kitchens meant she was not going to die. Everyone down there wanted to cook her! It was not a very reassuring thought. Was she gonna be made into a slave? A myriad of unpleasant thoughts were pouring into her mind.  

“He wanted to throw me into the stew...” the little girl whined, wringing her hands nervously.

The King laughed, throwing his head back and falling back in his chair. “Oh, I do not doubt it. He says that to everyone at one time or another. In that regard, you are in good company.”

Before the little girl could reply, the door to the room opened once more and a lady giant walked in, dressed in a tawny gown and a white scarf draped over her head, strands of black hair falling around her almond shaped face and framing brown eyes. Her lips were pinched into a barely concealed frown of displeasure as she marched towards the desk with purposeful strides.

She stopped short of the desk, gave a curt curtsy, and asked, “You had need of me, m’lord?”

“Yes, Lolly. I want you to take this child and have her cleaned and perhaps some new clothes made.”

It was then that the giantess, Lolly, seemed to realize that they were not alone. She looked down at the little girl and all of the ire in her expression left, forgotten and abandoned in an instant.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth. She bent down close to the little girl, eyes sparkling. “What charming little girl. O-oh, you poor dear, you’ve been crying! What have you been doing to this poor child?”

“Nothing insidious, I assure you, Lolly,” The King raised a hand in his defense, though he was smiling at the woman’s reaction to the little girl. “She has simply had a bit of a fright. Nothing your capable hands cannot mend.”

Lolly slowly reached out, as though trying to keep from startling the human, and slipped her hands under her arms before lifting her up with great care. She held the girl to her breast, securing her with one arm and her other hand rose up to softly caress the girl’s head. Large fingers lightly petting the little girl’s hair. The action startled the girl and she whined a little in confusion. The lady giant just slowly rocked her as though she were a baby. “There, there little one. Come now, don’t fret. Shhh. Poor little thing, you’re shaking like a leaf!”

The King regarded the pair with warm amusement before returning his attention to the large book before him. “Please, see to it she is taken care of. I know I can trust you in this regard Lolly.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“And deliver her to Farris when you’re done. He’ll be expecting her.”

The cold glare from before returned to Lolly’s face and she stopped her rocking of the human. “Come again, my Lord?”  

“I am giving her to Farris,” said the King without looking up from his reading.

“...m-my lord, why?”

“He laid claim to her. It was from his kitchens that she stole and I’ve already given him my approval.”

“My lord, please,” Lolly pleaded. “The kitchens are no place for such a little girl!”

“Farris will take good care of her,” said the King before lifting his gaze and staring at the giantess with a stern look. “I trust him wholeheartedly in this and I will say no more on the matter.”

“Very well, my Lord. I will see that it is done,” Lolly replied in defeat before turning on her heels, gently cradling the slightly bewildered human girl in her arms. “For the next several hours, however, the girls and I are spoiling this one rotten.”

As Lolly carried the little girl from the room, she could have sworn she heard the King laugh.

Author’s notes:

Okay. Be honest. 

Who thought this was gonna end badly? 

I know a few of you did. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

CHAPTERS:

ONE

TWO

THREE