#i swear some posts focus more on her future beauty than her personality which is

[wodania]

Never understood how asoiaf little girl warriors could be so obsessed with such shallow concepts as outer beauty when the story legit shits on such concepts with characters such as Brienne. Oh when this girl hits puberty she’s gonna be an absolute bomb trust me guys!!! Okay cool. Don’t know why that matters but cool. She’s 11 by the way.

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

x

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

[galvanizedfriend]

The Wolf Outtake

This is a little outtake, if you will, of The Wolf universe. It actually fits within the post-TW2 headcanons I've been writing to keep myself happy, so somewhere in S3. It's something that would never fit within the actual story because it's pure domestic fluff. lol I wrote this for @recyclingss, baby Eve's number one fan who yells at me when the child doesn't make an appearance and who’s also the biggest cheerleader this story’s ever had. 💖

This is set much later in the future, and you will notice baby Eve is actually more of toddler Eve here, but I've removed any specific context to make it so this would fit into any point of The Wolf post S2E14, I guess.

Summary: Just random KC+baby moment in The Wolf. It's fluffy, domestic, features the child and Klaus' bitter feelings for Bayou wolves. Nobody asked for it, but I figured, after the WEEK we've all had, maybe people could use some fluff? Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

______________________

Klaus doesn't even realize it's morning already until Caroline stirs next to him, making a lazy hum deep in her throat that pulls him out of his idle reverie. He blinks his surroundings back into focus; the fluorescence that had been filtering in through the windows last time he checked has now been replaced by warm sunlight. He didn’t even notice so much time had gone by.

Caroline rolled onto her side and was quickly lulled into blissful sleep after their late-night exertions. Klaus was distracted by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest for a long time until his mind was ensnared by its usual culprits, thoughts trapped in the latest batch of torments and woes to take over the Mikaelsons’ lives. 

 When Caroline opens her eyes and offers him a slow smile, Klaus feels himself touch ground again.

 "'Morning," she slurs in that husky voice, still thick with sleep.

 "Good morning, sweetheart," he replies with a short grin.

 Caroline yawns as she stretches out her body under the thin sheet covering her modesty.

 "Did you sleep at all?" she asks, blinking sluggishly at him.

 "I'm well-rested, if that's what you're asking."

 "It's not." Caroline props herself up on one elbow to stare levelly at him. Some of that drowsiness in her eyes dissipates, disappointment panging through him for bringing her back to the harshness of reality so fast. This is why, sometimes, especially on those not-so-rare nights when he ends up not getting any sleep, he'd rather not stay in bed. It allows the reprieve that slumber offers Caroline to last a little while longer. "Is it about Elijah?" she inquires, a knowing look on her face.

 Klaus' eyes wander away from hers. "It's about everything," he states vaguely, but not untruthfully. 

 Caroline hums unconvinced. "While I know you don't need to sleep, I also know it spells nothing but trouble when you can’t. It’s never good when you spend the whole night thinking."

 "Well, not the whole night," he says with a suggestive leer. "I did spend a good portion of the time engaged in far more pleasant activities."

 She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is more than a little satisfied when she leans into him. "You're not as smooth as you think, Mikaelson."

 "I beg to differ." Caroline chuckles, shifting under the sheets to press herself against his side, placing a kiss on his shoulder, then his neck, his jaw. Klaus snakes a hand around her back, pulling her closer still, feeling the familiar stirrings of heat in his underbelly. "Shall I prove my point?" he all but purrs.

 Caroline smirks against the corner of his mouth, her palm coming to rest on his chest. Klaus covers her hand with his, angling his face to take her mouth into a kiss. Her breasts pressing against his skin sends a tingle shooting through his body, and his other hand is already sliding down her spine, ready to guide her to straddle him, when lively conversation in the next room makes them pause.

 "Oh-oh," Caroline mutters. "I guess that means Mr. Wolfy is up early today."

 Klaus lets out a disappointed sigh.

 Eve doesn't cry so much when she wakes up anymore. Now, she either stays quietly in her crib until someone sees to her, or she starts playing with her toys. A social butterfly like her mother, she loves to engage in complex conversations with that hideous stuffed wolf Jackson gave her and her absolute favorite toy, the wooden knight Klaus carved for Rebekah when they were children.

 When he started to wake up to the sound of her talking to herself, he became worried, thinking maybe she was seeing things they weren't - which, in New Orleans, could mean a number of horrifying deals. But Caroline assured him that it is perfectly normal for young children to talk to inanimate objects, especially one who lives exclusively amongst adults.

 Apparently, it's good exercise for her imagination, or something.

 When Klaus is watching her, he will make a point to take part in her debates, always highlighting Mr. Knight's grandeur compared to Mr. Bog Scum. 

 "Sweetheart, this filthy dog here is the enemy. He wants to shroud you in flannel, carry you away to the swamp and bore you to sleep. Mr. Knight is here to save you from this stinky animal's claws."

 He's convinced one day she'll understand what he means.

 What’s most troublesome, however, is that Eve has started to attempt to climb out of her crib on her own. They always lock the other door to her bedroom when she's asleep, but the door connecting her room to Caroline's is always left unlocked for safety reasons. One of these days, Klaus thinks, their little wolf is going to catch mommy and daddy in very compromising positions. The idea mortifies him, especially because he and Caroline can get a tad carried away. They are a hybrid and a near-hybrid, after all. Too much energy and whatnot.

 "No rest for the wicked," Caroline speaks around a sigh before peeling away from him. Klaus watches her naked form with wistfulness as she climbs out of bed, his prospect of a lovely morning enterprise disappearing alongside the shape of her beautiful breasts as she shrugs on a fleece robe.

 Caroline vamps off to the en suite bathroom to freshen up a bit and then follows to Eve's room.

 "Good morning, sweet cheeks!" she greets their daughter sunnily. "Good morning to you, too, Mr. Wolfy!" Oh, for goodness' sake, Klaus curses inwardly. "And Mr. Knight!" Much better.

 Minutes later, Caroline returns with Eve, comfortable in fresh diapers, right on her heels, carrying Mr. Inconvenient and Mr. Knight.

 When she sees Klaus, she takes off towards the bed, her little legs getting more and more agile by the day. He pulls the sheets and covers up to his chest while she tries to hoist herself up. With ease, using just one hand, Klaus lifts her up and puts her sitting on his stomach.

 "Good morning, my littlest wolf," he says. "Where's my kiss?"

 His daughter leans down and smacks a loud kiss on his cheek, and then holds Mr. Fleabag close to him for a kiss as well. Klaus makes a face. "Not the dog, Eve."

 "Seriously?" Caroline says with a bored air about her. "You're antagonizing a stuffed animal now?"

 "This thing is a health hazard."

 "That thing has a cute little name, Mr. Wolfy, and your daughter loves him."

 "I refuse to treat a swamp dog as though it were a gentleman. Besides, I'm sure she loves Mr. Knight way more, don't you, love? Where's Mr. Hero?" She shouts something that sounds like Miter Nigh before pushing it onto Klaus' face. He cracks a proud smile at her. "There you go." He attacks her with tickles, and Eve bursts with sweet laughter.

 Caroline shakes her head at him, but he notices she's quite clearly biting back on a smile. "You're impossible."

 "I’m quite possible, I assure you," he replies smoothly. "Where are you going?" he asks when she starts tying her hair into a ponytail and taking clothes from her drawers.

 "Running with Marcel."

 "Oh, for goodness' sake," he protests. "Can you believe this, Eve? It's not even seven in the morning and your mother is willingly stepping out of the house to run. I sometimes fear she might be a psychopath."

 She scoffs loudly. "You would know, wouldn't you?" While she walks by him to go into the en suite, she slaps him lightly across the legs. "Stop telling my child that I'm a psycho, psycho."

 "How else am I supposed to explain this insanity? What kind of person runs for pleasure when there is an infinite array of far more gratifying activities to invest your energy into? Just now we were about to -"

 "Not in front of the small child, Klaus!" she chides from the bathroom.

 "She doesn't know what daddy is talking about, do you, love?" Eve giggles while he lifts her up above him, holding her like a flying superhero. "Blissfully clueless."

 Caroline steps back into the room, already in her exercise gear. Klaus lets out an infinitely despondent sigh. He would love nothing more than to get her out of those.

 "It's inappropriate conversation to have in front of the toddler," she remarks, putting on the smartwatch she bought recently to exercise with and measure her sleep patterns or whatever the bloody hell that is. She showed him all of this gizmo’s functionalities, swearing it’s the best thing ever invented by human minds. Klaus thinks it’s adorable, however incomprehensible, that someone with such close ties with the supernatural world would still be so impressed by technology. There’s literally nothing that cannot be sorted through magic. How is a watch that counts steps supposed to awe you once you’ve seen someone brought back from the dead? Caroline’s attachment to her humanity goes way beyond her empathy. "Besides, it was gonna be a quick activity because I'd go meet Marcel anyway,” she adds after a beat.

 "I can make you see stars in five minutes," he leers, a smirk growing on his face.

 Caroline whips her face at him with what is clearly an attempt at outrage but turns into something else when she can't hold her own smile. She can't deny him when his point was proved just the night before. Several times, in fact.

 "Shut up," she retorts simply. "Can you give her breakfast? I left chopped fruits in the fridge. You can wait about an hour after the bottle and give it to her as a little treat - not Fruit Loops."

 "She loves that thing."

 "Of course she does, it's pure sugar. That's exactly why we don't let her have it all the time. She needs to eat real fruits."

 Klaus rolls his eyes, sitting up in bed and putting the baby beside him. "Honestly, sweetheart, your mother sometimes..." 

 Caroline narrows her eyes at him. "You really love to make yourself out to be the cool parent, don't you?"

 "I don't have to make myself out to be anything, love. I am the parent who doesn't deny her the little joys of sugary treats. If that makes me cool, then you’ve only got yourself to blame." 

 "You're the parent who'll spoil her rotten, that’s what. Let's see how you'll feel when she's 16 and her boyfriend is climbing the balcony in her room in the middle of the night because she never learned how to take a no."

 "Oh, I would love for her suitors to climb her window in the middle of the night. It’ll be the last thing they do,” he says, smiling innocently at Eve.

 “You’ll be such a ray of sunshine when she starts dating.”

 “As per usual," he says with a bite of arrogance. "Hold the child so I can get decent, will you?"

 Caroline picks Eve up and keeps her looking firmly the other way while Klaus flashes out of bed and into the bathroom. He hears Caroline teasing her with “Where did daddy go?” and laughing at what he knows is Eve's extremely confused but astonished face. She thinks they're magicians. It's one of her favorite things, to watch as Klaus makes full use of his vampire speed to all but vanish right before her eyes. Modern technology has got nothing on him.

 There's something extremely heartwarming about his daughter's innocence. One day, she'll be old enough to understand why he can do the things he does. When that day comes, Klaus will cease to be a creature of magic and wonder, to become what he truly is: darkness made flesh. 

 He has never been ashamed of what he is, hardly ever had any qualms with filling the villain shoes, quite glad to do it, in fact, but he suddenly finds himself dreading the day when his child will figure out what it means to carry the Mikaelson name. When their family’s history will weigh down on her shoulders as it does on theirs.

 While making people cower in fear at the mere sound of his name has brought him an obscene amount of satisfaction and pride over the centuries, Klaus has to admit he's fascinated by the pure sparkle in his child's eyes. She's the first human being in a millennium who does not see even a fraction of monstrosity in him, no shadow, no taints, no mortal flaws. Not yet, anyway. All she sees is a funny man who makes her laugh and can hold her up with his finger, tells her stories about evil werewolves and keeps her safe and that's enough for her to adore him. Sometimes, he feels unworthy of such love. As though he's a fraud, deceiving his own daughter and taking advantage of her innocence.

 It still astonishes him that he should ever be capable of making something as pure and bright as that little girl. In a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson has only ever brought misery and pain into this world. Eve is the first genuinely good thing he's ever done. Then, of course, she inherited all of that from her mother, who holds herself open for compassion and kindness even though she is herself in a symbiotic existence with her own beast. Caroline has taken control of her darkness in ways Klaus doesn't think he's ever seen a vampire as young as her do before. She truly is extraordinary, and every day he hopes, from the bottom of his withered heart, that Eve will turn out to be every inch Caroline's daughter more so than his.

 Klaus can still smell last night’s sex all over himself, so he takes a quick shower and puts on a pair of denims and a shirt and vamps back to the room again, just to surprise Eve. She gasps when he materializes next to her, flinching, and then starts laughing like a little maniac, reaching out to him. 

 "Remember," Caroline says as she lets Eve slide over to Klaus' arms. "Bottle, fruits. No Fruit Loops. I'll tell your other child you said hi."

 "A child who enjoys running has clearly learned nothing from me," he grumbles. “Hopefully I’ll do a better job with this one.” 

 “Start by not feeding her Fruit Loops,” Caroline remarks with a grin before she smacks a loud kiss on Eve's cheek and then one on his.

 When she’s gone, Klaus turns to look at his little wolf, watching him with those dark blues of hers as though she's studying her father. Sometimes he wonders if toddlers know more than they let on.

 "Do you want to do magic?"

 "Yes!" she practically screams, her face splitting with a wide, toothy grin.

 "Get ready, then. Are you ready?" She gives him an exaggerated nod. "Keep your eyes open. One, two..." And then he flashes out of the room with her.

______________

✨ Thanks for reading! :) If you’ve enjoyed this silly thing, please drop me a comment! Your reblogs are also much appreciated to help this reach more people. ✨

[yukidragon]

Our Life, but as Dark Fantasy

Okay, so, Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch is probably the softest story I’ve ever fallen in love with. (And I will always scream from the rooftops that people should play it because I love it so much and it’s free to boot!) It’s slice of life and low stakes and the focus is entirely on the characters living life together and their relationships.

Despite this and enjoying working on my personal sorta novelization and adding in new scenes that fit the mood and add more excuses for fluff... suddenly a light banter scene from one of the parts of the game spiraled out of control into a plot thread of a dark angsty canon divergence with fantasy elements.

Like, I have no intention of writing a full blown story about it or anything. (Not like I’m doing for my preferred route through the game at least.) But, dang it, my passion for this game can’t be contained, and it’s running away with me. Plus, hey, why not grant Cove his deepest wish to finally meet a mermaid?

In other words, I took a fun and fluffy scene from the game and threw in an ominous note of foreshadowing to it at the end, which then blew up into its own post-game scene. Am I going to show it? What the heck, sure. Here’s the scene under a cut. Maybe someone else will enjoy it too.

Disclaimer - my version of Jamie might not match yours, and this is written in third person, so if you’d rather not read about that kind of fan content for Our Life, play the game instead. The writing will be rougher than what gets posted on @dragonandtiger, as this is first draft fooling around. Also, spoilers for Step 3.

...

Cove pretended to sigh as he hung his head. “Maybe it’s for the best.” He peeked through strands of his hair at Jamie as he tried his best to keep a straight face. “Let’s say a merperson did happen to wash up on shore one day…”

He let the suggestion hang in the air for a moment as he turned to Jamie, wearing a faux doleful expression that did nothing to hide the smile in his eyes. “I could’ve lost my girlfriend to their magical underwater world.”

Jamie failed to stifle a chuckle, which quirked the corners of Cove's mouth upwards in response. "Sure, I'd go with the merperson," she teased, "but only if you could come with us too."

Cove didn’t try to hide his grin this time, his eyes lighting up with delighted surprise at the unexpected answer. “You’re a nice person, Jamie,” he said sincerely before he got back into character. He arched an exaggerated eyebrow, doing his best to display serious skepticism. “But what if they didn’t want me? Would you seriously stay on land?”

Jamie placed her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed look. Despite the ridiculousness of the conversation, she wasn’t about to joke on this point. There was nothing in this world that would make her choose to leave Cove behind - not even for some hypothetical mysterious other world full of magic and adventure. Though she offered no words in response, she grabbed onto his arm and clung to it with excessive possessiveness.

Despite the hint of actual seriousness that had crept into the playful debate, Cove couldn’t help but nearly chuckle when Jamie latched onto him, her silent message coming across loud and clear. He couldn’t help but smile softly and think of just how cute his girlfriend could be when she was, as he liked to call it, stubbornly affectionate.

Still, despite the moment of fondness, he wasn’t about to let the joke drop just yet. “If a beautiful, kind merperson falls for somebody, I’m pretty positive the sensible response isn't to turn around and say, ‘No thanks, I’m gonna stay on land with a normal guy.’”

“I don’t want that,” Jamie huffed. She puffed out her cheeks in an exaggerated pout, and Cove couldn't stop himself from chuckling a bit at the sight. She broke character to smile triumphantly at that, before she suddenly straightened up, her eyes lighting up with a brilliant idea. “I should get to be the mercreature, and then I’d invite you to the underwater world.”

“What?!” Cove blurted out, caught completely off guard by the suggestion. He stared at Jamie with wide eyes, his mind immediately already picturing the possibilities of what she might look like as a mermaid. It wasn’t too hard to visualize considering she was already wearing a swimsuit, and the image turned his cheeks pink with heat.

“That's…,” he began, only to falter for a moment. “You… as a mermaid…” He had to take a moment to again picture it, his mouth hanging open just a little in wonder. “That’s… I mean…”

When the idea finally finished crystalizing in his head, Cove couldn’t help but feel thrilled by it. “Yeah,” he said with a brilliant smile. “It’s a good idea.”

Jamie smiled, pleased to have had such a profound effect on her boyfriend. She adjusted her hold so that she held his hand in both of hers. “I’m glad you think so,” she said before her voice grew tender. Her dark blue eyes glittered with adoration as she peered deeply into his eyes of bright aquamarine. “Would you come with me?”

“I…” Cove faltered, staring at Jamie with wide eyes as his pulse quickened. Her gaze was electric, turning into nervous energy inside him that couldn’t be contained. Although he hesitated to remove the hand she held so tenderly, he fumbled with his free hand for something to fidget with and found the sunscreen bottle he had dropped earlier. He flicked at the cap, snapping it on and off again in an erratic rhythm.

After a moment, Cove closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “Of course I would,” he finally answered. He tried to keep sounding playful, but the words came out soft with his sincerity. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Jamie was beaming, her smile as brilliant as sunshine.

“Thanks, Cove,” she said as she laced their fingers together. “I’d be a happy merfolk.”

Cove returned the gesture, squeezing Jamie's hand as little giggles escaped him. While the whole conversation had been intended as a lark, he couldn't help but feel deliriously happy by the little fantasy they had crafted together.

Jamie leaned in closer to her boyfriend, pleased by how much of an impact her words had on Cove. She couldn't help but imagine the scenario like he was at that moment. It would be such a lovely story.

Or at least, it would have been if it only remained nothing more than a fantasy.

Jamie was swimming like her life depended on it. Limbs thrashing through the water, propelling her closer and closer to the shore. She fixated on nothing else but making it back to Sunset Bird and…

“Cove!”

…

Cove Holden was a wreck. It had been two weeks since Jamie had disappeared, and the police had nothing to offer him but empty promises that they were trying their best to find his girlfriend.

He tried to hold out hope and remain patient, but the longer Jamie was gone, the more he could feel himself breaking down. He had the support of those who cared for him, but it wasn’t enough to hold back the despair that grew just a little deeper each day that she remained missing.

Despite the fact that Cove and Jamie had moved out of their childhood homes not that long ago, he was now spending nearly every day at the Leimomi house like he did during his childhood. Only, instead of going there to visit Jamie, it was to help her moms get through this crisis - it was the closest he could come to feeling like he was actually doing something more than just waiting in agony.

Cove also took to wandering through the old neighborhood more. He knew it was irrational to expect to find Jamie in the places they hang out throughout their childhood, especially when he, her family, and the police already thoroughly checked the areas. Despite this, he found himself at the top of poppy hill.

It wasn’t long ago that Cove and Jamie were both running down the hill, laughing and playing together like children as they raced ahead towards their future. The moment had been so peaceful, so wonderful. He remembered wondering what he would feel when he thought back to that day.

He had his answer now - an overwhelmingly painful longing.

The poppies were gone, just like Jamie. The hill was just as green as it always was, even in late fall; the ocean was just as blue as it beckoned to him not far away. Yet, to Cove, poppy hill felt desolate.

Cove had intended to leave by sunset, but he had been lost inside his head until he noticed the moon hanging in the sky. Despite the obvious reminder that he needed to go home, that he had work in the morning, he found himself lingering still. A part of him dreaded returning to an empty apartment and a bed meant for two by himself.

Looking at the moon and the ocean reflecting it along with the stars above, Cove was reminded of the first time he met Jamie. The sight of the horizon was the same as back then, but the heartache he felt then was nothing compared to the hell he was going through now.

Cove didn’t bother fighting the tears that spilled from his eyes, as he wished desperately for a miracle. “Jamie…”

Only the sound of the waves answered Cove. He closed his eyes listening; he could almost swear he heard Jamie’s voice answer him from somewhere far away, calling his name.

Then his eyes snapped open wide as Cove realized he wasn’t just imagining it.

Cove was off like a shot, running for the oh so very faint sound of Jamie’s voice. He shouted her name, and he heard his in return as he raced down the hill towards the shore. Once he reached the sand, he scanned the empty beach for signs of life, for the barest glimpse of blue hair and even darker blue eyes.

Movement on the waves drew Cove’s eye back to the ocean. Someone was swimming towards the beach, stretching a pale hand towards the sky in a frantic wave for attention as they surfaced.

“Cove!”

Cove kicked his shoes off before reaching the water, diving in without hesitation. The choppy waves fought him, but he cut through each one with the experience of a lifetime of swimming in the ocean brought him.

“Jamie!” Cove shouted so that Jamie would know he was coming for her. In the dim light of the moon and starry sky, Jamie kept disappearing among the waves, the blue color of her long hair serving to blend in with the dark water.

But Jamie answered in a voice aching with relief, and he knew she had heard him. “Cove!”

When Jamie reached out her hand again, this time Cove was close enough to grab it. He seized her body close and for a moment there was nothing the two of them could do but hold each other, salt water and tears mingling together as their shuddering bodies pressed close while buffered by a turbulent sea.

It was a moment of relief so exquisite that it was almost painful.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last long. The water was too rough to remain there, so Cove shifted his hold on Jamie, hooking her right arm around his shoulders and guided her weary body back to shore. It wasn’t until his feet touched back down on the sand that he realized Jamie wasn’t doing the same, instead heavily leaning against him like a dead weight.

“Cove,” Jamie whispered, her voice hoarse from yelling and heavy with exhaustion. She reached out to him with her left hand, and the sound of metal clinking accompanied it. To Cove’s horror, he saw a shackle on her wrist, still dangling links of a broken chain. “Sorry… I need you… to carry me…”

Cove turned to Jamie, panic rising as questions rushed to his lips, when he finally got his first good look at her. He froze, his mouth flagging open as his eyes went wide and round as the moon.

Jamie’s legs were gone - in their place was a large fishtail covered in shimmering blue scales.

[dacreshoney]

vikings part 1.3 series 1

series 1 part 1.2 link https://dacreshoney.tumblr.com/post/627446295725015040/vikings-series-1-part-12

1.3 series 1 of master list 

warnings: may be swearing, smut, fluff, violent behaviours mentioned (I do not condone any behaviours) 

gifs and images not my own(can provide any evidence if needs be) or any problems or requests, message me:) 

summary: a week had passed by where freya had arrived in Kattegat to save an old friend of hers, and her and Ivar found themselves to be quite the match in training together. Ragnar was planning another raid on Francia, where Rollo was held captive, although his brother did not know he was now married to a Francia princess and learning new ways to live, now putting aside the old gods. Freya was preparing in Kattegat with Ragnar, his sons and their army, may nights would go by where ivar and freya would look for each other, often finding one another in their dreams. Ivar found something in himself that he thought he would never find, somehow how did start to feel like a real man and not a cripple everyone called him. Freya made him believe he could be so much more. 

..............................................................................................................................

It was the night before the raid and everyone was gathered in the great hall for a feast, this was the last night families would be with each other, celebrating a victory or finding remorse in the nights events. Ivar and his brothers sat at the long table, ivar next to his mother, her arm placed on his, whispering in his ear like she normally does. Aslaug often shown favouritism for ivar rather than her other sons, she too saw greatness in him, but for the wrong reasons. You were getting ready in your chamber, when a familiar face walked into your room, it was Lagertha, her faced beamed from ear to ear, the rumours she heard were true, she had longed to see your face again. both of you embraced for a few seconds before letting go, Lagertha taking her hands to help you fasten up your gown for the feast.

“you are still as beautiful as ever my freya” Lagertha smiled as she helped you with your gown, her smile never leaving her face as she brushed her hands down your sides and raised her head to your shoulders to lean on. you turned to fix her strand of blonde hair on her face to tuck it behind her ears

“well being a god has god to have its perks somewhere in the job description” you joked, you wore a beautiful red wine gown, which hugged your curvy toned figure just wonderfully. Embodied with golden gems and armour, the dress flew just right on the arms and the bottom, your hair tied in with your golden reef crown. The most beautiful goddess and women ever to be laid eyes on.

You made your way through the great hall all eyes turned to you, in which aslaug hated all the attention going to someone else, never mind someone who was walking through the crowds with Ragnar's ex wife. Aslaug noticed ivar jump out of his seat in ore of you, for someone who struggled to walk, with his new crutches and leg pieces she had never seen him move so fast. 

Ivar comes face to face with you, standing tall and proud, to others he was just a cripple, but to you, well you saw something greater in him than any other could see. 

“so the stories are true” ivar spoke, placing his golden cup to his lips, supping at his wine but his eyes never leaving focus on yours. Your expression unclear to what ivar was talking about, questioning him. 

“and what stories have you heard ivar”

Ivar edged closer to you, his head curving into the arch of your neck and whispering “you truly are the most eye capturing goddess this world has ever known” before you could answer, your neck twitching at his warm breath on your neck, he followed with “and you will be mine”. Attracted by his confidence, you immediately turned to face him, your lips just inches apart, his eyes torn on whether to make a move, you inched back teasing him, “I belong to nobody ivar” you winked, picking up a wine cup and walking away to sit with Ragnar.  as you walked away, ivar softly spoke under his breath, “we’ll see”

Ivar watched your every move that night, Aslaug keeping eyes on you also, you'd often make eye contact with ivar and swap hints with your eyes. 

Aslaug sick of the sight of you two, speaks harshly to ivar, “son, what do you think you are doing”. Ivar turned to his mother, losing his grin in curiosity for what his mother was going to say. “I am mearly enjoying myself mother, a cripple has got to find some things worth while in his lifetime” ivar laughed as he sipped his drink. Aslaug furious, grabbed him by the wrist and whispered into his ear, “well let me tell you something dear ivar, she is not worth your while or you hers, do you really think that she could love you, tell me, who here in this room loves you hmm” aslaug questioned, grabbing ivars face and turning it to the crowd of people in the great hall, all laughing and drunk. Ivars face grew red, from embarrassment and his mothers grip. “can you count how many ivar, no I thought so, you only have me, that is all you will ever have, now take your fantasies elsewhere, you are making me sick” aslaug pushed ivar away, you swiftly moved from his chair to leave the great hall. His mother had never spoke to him that way before, ivar was always her precious one, her beloved, could you really make her blood boil that much. You listened in to every word with your senses, as you watched ivar push through the crowd of people, his face red with anger but his heart was saying otherwise, he was broken inside. 

You followed ivar out of the great hall to his chamber, finding him standing there all alone, staring up at the printings of the norse gods praying and pleading for help. You didn't want to startle him, so you walked gently up to him and said

“why pray to them when you have me here, what can they do that I can not” you placed your hand on his shoulder, ivar shrugged you off, he always refused peoples help when he felt this way, he couldn't let anyone in to his emotions, they made him weak he always said. “I do not need any help, especially from you” ivar spoke harshly, not even looking at you. You walked round to face him, your golden eyes catching his icy blue ones, fixated. You raised your hand to place on his cheek, ivar hesitated it first, moving away, until you slowly placed your palm on his cheek and spoke. 

“is that you or your mothers words speaking, ivar, I heard everything she said” ivar started to turn red in the face again, feeling defeated in his ways, “I don't need you feeing sorry for me freya” ivar jumped away from you, turning to stumble away. 

“I don't feel sorry for you actually ivar, I feel sorry for your mother, pitiful and despiteful in her own sons greatness and she doesn't even know the half of your story” you spoke proudly, edging towards ivar who was facing away from you, paused in his steps. You place your hands in his, slowly stoke his hands, moving up his arms to his chin, tilting his chin up you say

“ you have no idea how great you will turn out to be ivar, no idea, you will be the greatest, loved by many, so you can sit here and pity yourself or you can be a man and face your future how I have seen it”. Ivar grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to him, “how can I be that man when I am like this, huh? a cripple being a great man, my mother is many things, she is always right, how can anyone love this” ivar spoke, looking down at himself, his crutches, they were what made him feel useless and less of a man. “I am no man, I can't even pleasure a women have you heard? you are a goddess, what do you want with a cripple” 

You removed your hand from ivars grip, placing both hands on his biceps, gracefully sliding them down towards his legs, where you placed your grip on them, towards his groin area, you were the goddess of fertility and love, but your powers could do so much more. You could make him feel like a man he wants to be, your hands moved to his inner thighs, you could see ivar felt something, his eyes told a different story as he looked at you. 

“maybe you just haven't had the right person to make you feel like a man Ivar’... your fingertips, creating circular motions above his ties, something was bulging, you smiled and said ‘I can make you feel like the man you want to be, but know this, being a cripple does not change the fact that we have something, our paths are meant to cross, you can either face that and please the gods or you can run away from your fate and happiness” 

“how are you doing that, I've never umm, felt that before” Ivar winsed and panted under his breath. Taking a seat on the bench beside him, taking your hand with him. 

“ I told you, I can give you anything you want if you let me” 

Ivar paused, tilting his head back in relief, to then lift his head and face you, he then questioned. “can you heal me, my legs”, you hesitated at first, moving yourself onto ivars lap, you wanted to give your all to him, but first you wanted to make him believe he was a man, even as a cripple, he just needed the right person beside him. You knew that your fates were to cross with one another and if making ivars wishes come true and to heal him was what you were sent to do then so be it. But you would let him enjoy this night with you as just ivar, himself, who he was born to be and you could show him that you could love him as this man. 

“If you wish it ivar, but let me show you how I can love you as you are” before you could move your hands he grabbed you by the hips and demanded,

“please, I want to feel you as a human, as someone who is worth of your touch and can reciprocate that” your face grew sad at his response, but either way you knew you would do anything he asked for, like he had a hold of you, freya the goddess bewitched by a human. You set aside, explaining to ivar what you needed to do for the spell, a blood sacrifice, ivar recently had killed his own brother Sigurd, for the sacrifice we needed his blood and his bones. Ivar gulped at the fact he had to remove his brother from his grave, disturbing his peace with Valhalla, but this was a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

“are you sure ivar” you hesitated 

“I have never been more sure” ivar spoke, placing his hands on your cheeks, for he was to be then man he always wanted to be and now he could finally be with a woman who could see his potential, but not only that, she could of loved him as he is, or he was. 

was freya willing to change his future for the sake of something of his imagination or was she willing to make him believe his full potential just the way he was? 

[laceymorganwrites]

Crush

Word count: 2,011

Pairing: none

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Atsumu has a crush on you, a third year and misses all the chances to make something out of it.

Song: Crush - Tessa Violet

Tagging: @akaashichigo

Uh, alright I can't focus on what needs to get done

Why the fuck did this always happen to him? He had important things to do, to focus on, he couldn´t have you occupy his mind all the time.

Though it wasn´t really your fault, but then again it was.

You had no right being so beautiful, so intelligent, so funny, so charming, so fucking breathtaking.

Of course he had to catch feelings for you, even though you weren´t even in the same class. Of course he did. He always wanted what he couldn´t have and he kind of got off on the fact that you´d never look his way more than he liked to admit.

I'm on notice hoping that you don't run, ah You think I'm tepid but I'm misdiagnosed

His brother, friends and teammates had enough of him nonstop talking about you. They fucking knew. He had it bad for you, they knew. But that was no excuse for him being distracted all the time during training. They needed him, he was basically the most important part in their play.

It couldn´t go on like this, something needed to be done.

Luckily Kita had just the solution for it, they all thought it would be foolproof. Especially when even Kita had enough of Atsumu´s behavior and lack of concentration.

'Cause I'm a stalker I seen all of your posts, ah-ah

And I'm just tryna play it cool now

Everybody knew the plan and yet everyone was anxious because nobody knew how Atsumu would react.

It all depended on you.

So when you walked into the gym because Kita told you to wait for him there before you´d work on your project together, all eyes were on Atsumu.

It was like he froze in place, his eyes went wide like he couldn´t believe it.

And you didn´t even look at him, you just sat right down in the back and scribbled in your notebook.

But that's not what I wanna do now And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now Mhm

Atsumu tried his hardest to concentrate on the training, but he caught himself staring at you all the time, everyone else noticed too and they were unsure if that was a good thing or not.

“Yer know she´s not looking cause ya suck!” Osamu called out to him, startling his older brother.

And yet his words hit. Atsumu set the ball more accurately and one serve of his even made you look up, which he didn´t notice since he was too focused on the game.

You make it difficult to not overthink And when I'm with you I turn all shades of pink, ah

After practice Kita dragged Atsumu with him to meet you. It was strange how nervous he was, when Kita asked him when Atsumu first started crushing on you, he didn´t want to meet you at all. He cared way too much about what people thought of him, so it scared him that there was a possibility that you could hate him.

Now there was no turning back though, not with Kita dragging him behind him with an iron grip.

“Can we go now, Kita? I think if we hurry up we could finish the project today” you said, barely looking at Atsumu.

“Just a moment, I want you to meet Atsumu. He´s been too afraid to approach you and it´s getting frustrating” he honestly said, even sighing to prove his point.

You chuckled, knowing that he always talked about his teammates, so he must be one of the troublemaker twins. You also thought you saw him around in the hallways some time, but weren´t so sure.

“Just what the hell have you been telling him, Kita? I don´t bite… that hard” you responded, meeting Atsumu´s eyes. He looked at you really intensely, yet didn´t meet your eyes and the blush on his face betrayed him.

I wanna touch you but don't wanna be weird It's such a rush, I'm thinking wish you were here, ah-ahh

And I'm just tryna play it cool now But that's not what I wanna do now And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

“I´m (Y/N) by the way, but I think you already knew that” you stretched your hand out for him to shake and noticed that his was sweaty and shaking a bit.

“It´s nice to meet you” he forced out, trying to be as polite as possible, he at least wanted to make a good first impression.

“You make a mean serve but I think you also already knew that” you noted, having trouble making conversation with him since he seemed so out of it.

But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like Hoping you'd text me so I could tell you I been thinking 'bout your touch like Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush I got a fascination with your presentation Making me feel like you're on my island You're my permanent vacation Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush Sorry

“It wasn´t that good, I still need to improve a lot” he said and the worst part about it was that he sounded like he believed it.

“Learn how to take a compliment, will ya?” you smiled, you couldn´t quite figure him out.

Atsumu didn´t seem like the type of guy to get insecure about his abilities, especially as his position as setter, he always seemed so sure of himself. You saw it in his games too, it was weird.

He at least had the decency to look sort of ashamed as you said that, Kita held back a chuckle.

I fill my calendar with stuff I can do Maybe if I'm busy it could keep me from you

Ever since then you came to their training quite often, which was more because you and Kita had to organize quite a bit for graduation and it was easier when you just waited for him. Atsumu became hyper aware of your presence, he wanted to impress you so bad but he knew that you only viewed him as a kouhai. He hated it.

Honestly, he knew that you´d never look at him twice, the only reason you even talked to him was because Kita basically forced you to. You didn´t want to talk to him, you never thought about him, you never imagined what it would feel like to hold his hand, if it would be calloused while yours was so soft, you never yearned to hear his laugh, you never dreamed about how soft your lips might be and you sure as hell couldn´t care less about him.

And I'm pretending you ain't been on my mind But I took an interest in the things that you like, ah-ahh

Kita was worried about the future of the team, you knew that. He always worried about his juniors which was nice, but still, he worried too much for his own good. They´d make it. You had to worry about your exams right now and so should he.

You tried your best to support your friend and get his mind off things but it was hard.

As you sat in the gym, waiting for him and watching the team, you felt a bit of nostalgia, you´d miss going to their games to support them.

Maybe you´d even miss Atusmu, maybe he wasn´t as bad as you thought, but then again, you´d probably never find out.

And I'm just tryna play it cool now But that's not what I wanna do now And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

“Just ask her already, for fuck´s sake…” Kita groaned and everyone went quiet. He never swore, but then again, if there was a person who´d be able to make him,  it´d be Atsumu.

Prom night was coming up and you casually let it slip that you still didn´t have a date, naturally Kita told Atsumu in hopes he´d take the hint. Which he didn´t of course. He was thinking way too much into it, he kept saying how he wasn´t good enough, how you could do so much better and didn´t even like him that way.

“And how the hell are yer gonna find out if all yer ever do is run away from yer feelings?” Osamu punched his shoulder.

But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like Hoping you'd text me so I could tell you I been thinking 'bout your touch like Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush I got a fascination with your presentation Making me feel like you're on my island You're my permanent vacation Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush

In the end he didn´t ask you, chickening out like he always did. It was just a stupid crush anyway and you didn´t even want him to be there. He was the one who had stupid one sided feelings for you, it wasn´t like you did. It wasn´t like you cared, like you ever spared him a glance in the hallways.

He was just one of the annoying twins Kita told you about, he was just the setter of your school´s team, he was just a second year.

And yeah it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right But can you blame me when you keep me on the fence, like And I've been waiting, hoping that you'd wanna text, like Text like It's what I was born to do And yeah it's true that I'm a little bit intense, right But can you blame me when you keep me on the fence, like And I've been waiting, hoping that you'd wanna text, like Text like Ugh

You got ready for prom which you really weren´t looking forward to. It would be so boring with all the speeches from the teachers and the pretentious ones from the student council. Honestly, you weren´t even there yet and you wanted to go home already. At least your friends would be there. You didn´t want to think about graduation and all the responsibilities that would be dumped onto you afterwards. You just wanted to enjoy one more night without anything to think about.

And I'm just tryna play it cool now But that's not what I wanna do now And I'm not tryna be with you now, you now

Atsumu kept on training, it was weird with the third years being gone now and he caught himself look for Kita for advice every time. He missed his captain telling him and Osamu to behave, he missed having him around because it all felt so easy with Kita, he was the best captain he could´ve ever asked for and he vowed that he´d make him proud.

He nearly perfected his serve and was so caught up in denial that he didn´t even face the fact that you graduated and he wouldn´t ever see you again.

It was a week later that it settled in, he missed seeing you in the halls, missed you coming to their games and waiting for Kita at the gym.

Sure, you barely spoke a word, but still, he could´ve made a move if he hadn´t been such a coward. But it was too late for that now, he wouldn´t ever see you again.

It shouldn´t hurt this much, you were just a stupid high school crush.

But I could be your crush, like, throw you for a rush, like Hoping you'd text me so I could tell you I been thinking 'bout your touch like Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush I got a fascination with your presentation Making me feel like you're on my island You're my permanent vacation Touch, touch, touch, touch, touch I could be your crush, crush, crush, crush, crush Sorry

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

Hey!! I have a prompt for tarlos... a college au where Carlos has a girlfriend and he slowly realizes he’s in love with his gay best friend Tk 🤔 idk sounded like a good idea haha

Hope this is okay and not too choppy.  Warning for underage drinking since I don’t picture these guys as 21 yet.  Other than that this is just a little fluff piece I hope you guys like.  

“Who has you smiling like that besides me?” Iris Blake asked with a smirk as she slid into his passenger seat.  Carlos clicked his screen black like he had done something wrong when in reality he was only texting his roommate.  True, it was borderline sexting, but he hadn’t crossed a line and if he showed the messages to his girlfriend she would probably just laugh it off anyways.  

“Just a meme,” Carlos lied far too easily as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.  “You decided to stay in uniform?”

“I know a skirt this short gets your attention,” Iris still wore her smirk as she crossed her legs so that her cheerleader skirt would ride up even higher.  “Plus, what jock doesn’t want to fuck a cheerleader?”

“You act like you have to try to get me to want you,” Carlos told her with a smile as he laid a hand on her thigh gently.  “Does Michelle need a ride?  Is she coming?”

“She’s coming straight from the game,” Iris told him as he slowly pulled away from the curb and headed toward the post-game party.  “How does it feel to finally have that winning shot?  You’ll be point guard next year for sure.”

“It felt pretty amazing,” Carlos admitted as he fought a blush thinking about what those texts had promised him if he managed to score the point guard position.  He had to stop texting his roommate things he should be sending his girlfriend.  He had been with Iris for three months now, and it was good.  She was smart as well as sexy as hell.  She knew how to have fun, but was also a girl he could bring home to meet his parents if need be.  Basketball camp had brought them together right before he had moved in with his new roommate for the year and he tended to wish those two events had been switched up.  It was further complicated since if he ended up hurting Iris he would also offend his best friend.  Tben again, if anyone had seen TK Strand without a shirt they wouldn’t blame him.  Those abs begged to be licked with those tight muscles and pale skin.  He wasn’t a blind man even if he did have a girlfriend.  

He pulled up to the house already bursting with people milling on the lawn and around the backyard by the pool. Carlos could swear he felt the pavement thrum from the bass coming from the house as he got out of his car.  He followed Iris into the house and quickly had a drink pushed into his hand upon arriving.  This was supposed to be the night to celebrate his team, and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest.  

He found his way to the backyard where most of the party goers had congregated.  A pool glistened in the dim lighting as a stereo pounded out music in one corner.  A large group had started dancing in one part of the yard and his eyes locked onto TK almost immediately.  He was dancing with another guy, hips grinding together and of course he had already lost his shirt.  TK’s hands were all over the guy’s chest and neck as he moved his body to the music.  It was definitely indecent and almost obscene, yet Carlos couldn’t tear his gaze away.  He wanted to be the one those hands were roaming over desperately.  He wanted to see miles of pale skin without sharing with anyone else.  

“Your roommate knows how to dance,” Michelle commented as she appeared next to him with her hair pulled up high and a drink in her hand.  “He almost makes me want to join in.”

“Michelle on a dance floor?” Carlos forced himself to stop staring and focus on his best friend.  “That’ll be the day.  He does make it look easy.”

“Iris will drag you out there before long.”  She threw back the rest of her drink and grinned at him.  “Maybe then your eyes can focus where they’re supposed to.”

Carlos flushed a deep red at being caught staring, but Michelle didn’t; seem to be as angry as he would have imagined.  She looked amused more than anything else.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s pretty, anyone with eyes can see that.  You’re bi and you aren’t blind.”  Michelle shrugged but then fixed him with a heavy look.  “If you’re going to switch teams, at least let Iris know first, okay?  He’s gorgeous I’ll give you that, but if you cheat on my sister I will beat your ass.”

“Noted,” Carlos nodded to her and tried to stop staring at the dance floor where TK had switched partners when a new song blasted through the speakers.  

He really wasn’t trying to be a bad person by staring at his gorgeous roommate.  TK was so much more than his looks and Carlos had had no idea until they had roomed together.  He was sweet, kind, and cared so much about his family.  He had demons darker than anything that Carlos had faced, but he still found it in himself to be kind to anyone in his path.  They spent hours watching movies together and they were nearly inseparable at this point.  He hadn’t meant to develop feelings for him, but nonetheless the sight of another guy’s hands on TK was driving him crazy.  

“Well, you made it over here after all,” TK’s drawl brought him out of his thoughts and he snapped his attention to green eyes that sparkled with amusement as the sun quickly set over the horizon.  

“I told you I would,” Carlos defended with a small smile.  “I’m a man of my word.”

“Unless you get distracted by long, pale legs right?” It felt wrong to have TK joking about him hooking up with anyone else, even his girlfriend.  “Good job on the winning shot, Mr. future point guard.  People will be talking about that for the rest of the year.”

Again the texts came back to his mind of what TK had promised he would do if he made point guard for the team.  “Yeah, thanks.”  

A beat of silence fell between them before a song with heavy bass kicked in and TK’s eyes lit up in excitement.  Their eyes met instantly and Carlos knew what his best friend was going to ask before the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Dance with me?” TK begged, going so far as to tug on his hand.  “I promise I’ll try to behave.”

“The trying is what scares me,” Carlos replied dryly as he let himself be dragged over to the throng of bodies moving.  TK predictably dragged him right to the middle of the group and Carlos could see nothing but those green eyes as he started to dance.  True to his word TK was keeping it rather tame at first with a good few inches between their bodies.  Carlos had seen TK dance with several men since they had met and his usual style was to try to become one person on the dance floor.  TK’s pants were riding low on his hips and Carlos wasn’t sure when his desire to feel that warm skin became an action, but before he knew it he was cupping one of TK’s hips in his hands and pulling him closer.  TK wore a smirk as he took the invitation to close the small distance between them and grind their hips together along to the beat.  Sweat ran down the back of his neck as he gave into his whims and wrapped TK in his arms, able to smell him even above all the other people surrounding them.  TK felt so good in his arms and the more Carlos got of the other man the more he wanted.  He ached to taste that sweet milky skin, but he couldn’t do that to Iris.  He wouldn’t cheat on her no matter how he felt about the man in his arms.  

He darted away from TK halfway through the song, unable to take the temptation.

He knew his roommate would follow him.  He knew TK cared about others far more than he ever cared about himself.  TK cared about him and that was the entire problem.  There was more than just the physical attraction.  They truly cared for one another and that was why Carlos was so confused.  

“Carlos, wait!!” TK called as Carlos darted upstairs and in an instant they were alone in an empty bedroom.  TK watched him carefully as he slowly closed the door so they could have some privacy.   There was a hint of a blush on TK’s pale cheeks and Carlos noticed he had found his shirt in his mad dash to chase after him.  It made it easier to focus with all skin covered up once more.  

“I’m sorry,” TK apologized and his eyes were wide and full of regret.  “I tried not to…  I know you’re with Iris.”

“I am,” Carlos agreed as he slowly sat on the edge of a bed.  His heart was still trying to calm down to a normal rhythm after being so close to the object of his attraction and subject to some dreams he would never admit to while alive.  “I’m not angry at anyone but myself.”

“I know I’m too much of a tease,” TK bit his bottom lip and it sounded like he was rehearsing a line from a movie.  Which meant he was parroting a line from his ex, and that was never good.  “I just….  I mean, there’s something here, right?”

“The dancing wasn’t one sided,” Carlos assured him, unable to get the warm tingling to fade from where his hands had touched TK’s skin.  “You’re smarter than me TK, I know you know how I feel.”

TK’s face went a shade of dark pink at the simple compliment.  “I know you love to watch me dance.  I thought I was imagining it most of the time though.  I’ve been trying not to make it harder for you.”

“Ty,” Carlos used his name rarely, but something about his tone and his words were off here.  He knew Alex had messed with TK’s self worth more than would ever be admitted to.  “You know I like you for so much more than the way you look, don’t you?”

The silence as TK looked off to a corner of the room told Carlos that TK really had no idea how completely beautiful he was that had nothing at all to do with how he looked.  “You mean you don’t want to just sleep with me?”

“I’m falling in love with you,” Carlos got out with his voice shaking and his heart pounding.  “You’re beautiful in every single way.   I just… I like Iris and I wasn’t sure how you felt.  I didn’t know if you would want me.”

“Carlos, you’re a ten,” TK blurted out with wide green eyes staring straight at him.  “Who wouldn’t kill for the chance to be with you?  You’re kind and popular and funny and sweet.  Everyone likes you and I never thought you would want something real with someone like me.”

“We are both blind idiots,” Carlos got up from the bed to step close to TK and take his hand gently.  “I want to kiss you.”

“No arguments here,” TK supplied quickly as his lips quirked up in a smile.  

“I need to have a talk with Iris,” Carlos told him with a soft smile in return.  He kissed TK on the cheek gently with a squeeze to his hand.  “I need to make sure things are okay with her before I can freely move onto something with you.  I don’t want anything with you to be tarnished by something I can prevent.”

“You really want to be with me? The whole deal?  Dating and whatnot?” TK looked shocked that someone could want that from him and it made Carlos’s heart ache that too many people had made TK feel like a plaything instead of like a person to be valued and loved.  

“I can see so much with you Tyler,” Carlos said softly as he brought a hand up to cup TK’s cheek gently and brush over it with his thumb.  “I can hardly wait for us to begin.”

He broke away from TK and knew that while the conversation with Iris wouldn’t be easy, it would be so worth it to have that beautiful boy to be all his. 

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

34. Ivory

Previous Trigger Warnings for mentions of underage/revenge porn, mentions of eating disorder Word Count: 8388

Between Grace making that post of her rapping along to Captain Hook, her saying "aye aye" to Simon in comments, and this photo of Simon's D print in the gray sweatpants, I'm starting to think he's packing a curve 👀

Simon Laurent "liked"

Commenter: He is! Did you never see the old sex tape?

Poster: The WHAT? No… But, wait… I thought that they dated in school. You mean like something that happened after that?

Commenter: They were in school, but it was online for the longest time before she snitched, so I’m sure somebody still has it out there…

Poster: That’s gross. I’m not that desperate to see it that I wanna look at some kids doing it. No thank you.

Simon Laurent “liked”

Commenter is blocked by Simon.

.

Grace was in the grocery store with her mother and brother, and Zasha, a white samoyed puppy that Mrs. Monroe had purchased from a breeder… to potentially train to be in competitions, and Zasha’s handler. Why did Mrs. Monroe bring Zasha into the store, just to have someone else hold her? For the same reason that the nanny was also there, tending to Montanus. “Because, that is literally what I pay them to do.” But… we’re at the grocery store and didn’t even have to BRING them! Grace didn’t argue.

However, she did wonder if she was suffering from some type of weird mid life crisis, or just a rich, bored woman whose husband was working more and more all of the time, despite supposedly getting closer to retirement. Then, she wondered if they weren’t doing so well. But, she kept those wonders to herself, as it would frighten her to know whatever the truth was if it was anything other than her mother did whatever she wanted because she could afford to. 

Plus, she wanted to get out of the house, and apparently that had been reduced to tagging along with Grace at the grocery store, in case she needed help. “You’re almost 6 months, correct? How has it been? Online, one would swear that you’re Diahanne Caroll in her prime. You’ve rarely broken a sweat. Is that for your fans?”

Grace shook her head and read the label of something before putting it into her cart, “I haven’t had any problems, except for eating way more than I used to and getting gas, but those calcium chews usually help with that and I bounce right back. You know, I’ve always taken really great care of myself, think things through and pay top dollar for the finest self care. I guess that the baby is pleased with their temporary temple.” She smiled at her mom and noticed the woman looked leery. “I know… you had a very rough pregnancy with me. Believe me, I remember this fact, but I haven’t been having that experience, personally. In fact… Did you know that I’ve gained THOUSANDS of new followers since they’ve seen that I was pregnant. Pregnant people have been asking me what I use for this and for that and I’ve been plugging my brand, since we’ve got the pregnancy line now. It’s been sensational. I’ve had a blast!” 

Grace had been working on a blog about her pregnancy, which she began with a video addressing all of the questions to all of the people who were not her. 

“Hey, Those That Are Graced!” She’d cheered into the camera, “Happy New Year! I know that I’ve been unavailable to reach out too, and believe me, I do miss interacting with fans and followers, but I am currently not working on my career, to focus on other things in my life. Just to touch base with everyone, I feel like we’ve had this discussion before and those of you who actually respect me would definitely not need it repeated, but there have been so many new faces of possibly unfamiliar followers that I am revisiting notes that I have in all of my bios… 

First, my professional life is one thing, my private life is another. I extend myself professionally, and over the past few months, even though I have not actually been working, I���ve still been spending time providing everyone with content. Please do not send messages, comments, or questions for me to any of my friends, and especially not to my family members, Hazel in particular. She is 12 and shouldn’t have adults bothering her for information that not only isn’t her concern, but isn’t your concern. She wants to be able to enjoy the limited hours of screen time that she’s allowed. That becomes difficult for her when people are asking her hundreds of questions that literally are related to her mother’s sex life. 

Second, my professional life is offered at my discretion, as well. Whenever there is product that I think you should try, I will announce it. If I’m not familiar with a product or no arrangements have been made for me to try a product or I’m unaware of a product… my comments is not the place for said product. That is including everything from your all natural care supplies, book recommendations, your demos, your dance videos… Like… I LOVE receiving those things, but whenever I open my comments back up, that is not where those things go. 

I have links for email addresses for avenues of business, entertainment, etc on my website, and if nothing else, my website is featured on every form of social media that I have. I am the person who goes through those emails. I am NOT the person who checks my social media messages, so you will never get a response from me through those and run the risk of me not seeing something if you send it there instead. 

Third, my spaces have boundaries and moderators to enforce those boundaries. Whenever you’ve been allowed to be a guest in any of my spaces or my child’s spaces, you treat that shit like Afropunk - “No sexism, no racism, no ableism, no homophobia, no fatphobia, no transphobia, no hatefulness.” And then, since I’m not Afropunk and I have even greater needs, and can’t believe I have to say this much else: No pedophilia, no inappropriate interactions with a minor, no incestuous ideation, and no nudity. My moderators are quick, but not perfect. Your fellow guests and neighbors in my spaces should never have to see jokes about my mother and I engaged in sexual acts together, or worse, my UNDERAGE daughter, and no - Hazel and I posting a dance video is not an invitation for someone to make comments that because she might be fluid in her movements that it is sexually suggestive and if ever we find one of those headass posts where you put a photo of my beautiful daughter up, say something obscene or rude or ask, “Thoughts?” Simon finds out your IP address, sometimes more than that and he doxxes your ass. Ask around. If threats of violence or suggestions of harm are given… he might show up at your house and I don’t know what to even tell you about that one, because I’m not at liberty to say, according to the lawyers.” 

She smiled, relaxed, unclenched her teeth that she realized had been clenched since she began her greater needs. 

“Fourth, leave Hazel alone. She isn’t going to add you, because she is not allowed to add adults that she does not know. If you follow her public figure pages, those are for her poetry, her brand, her rapping, her artwork, her theater program, and whatever announcements she wants to share with her fans about her personal life, which is usually vague and innocent. If Hazel posts that she had a great time at the premiere of some movie, that is not the place to ask her personal questions. The place to ask her personal questions is nowhere! We don’t have a space created for strangers to ask her personal questions. She sometimes will be allowed to grant an interview, in which she will answer a professional about appropriate questions that have been approved.

Fifth, shut up about Simon! Shut up about Simon! I swear to you… In the past few years that Simon and I have been in communication and the ones that we’ve been in close communication, I KNOW that you realize that we are communicating, but that falls under my private life, which I have not created a space in the public for.

Now… you may speak with Simon about whatever things he speaks about in his private life, I can’t control that, but what I can control and do control is what he will or won’t say about me, even in HIS space. Yes. I got it like that, and what will happen, is Simon will be seeing this, and he is very good at remembering details and he will memorize everything that I’ve said here and he will respect that and enforce it, even in HIS space. 

Which leads me to my last thing… There’s a lot of Esmoroth fanfolk in my spaces now and you all act a certain way in your little Esmoroth corner of the Internet… but in here, in Grace’s space, you better act like you’ve been tossed to the feet of the Idol Princess when her pheromones are igniting the internal flame of servitude. Because, we stan the Idol Princess in this space, and you’d better act right.”

After the release of the 3rd book and return of the Idol Princess aka the Future Queen, several fans were disappointed and had called Simon out for “pandering.” But, several MORE fans came around. He was competing for top spots with the YA novel greats after the 3rd book. But… that also meant more fans to be in Grace’s business. 

Her New Year’s announcement remained pinned at the top of her page and the next post was text, “Oh, yeah. Last but not least, you may have noticed that I’m pregnant. I’ll be featuring some of my favorite findings on my maternity journey here, so please stay tuned if you’re pregnant, expecting, or planning, for what I think and hope will be some helpful tips for your journey!”

Most of the Esmoroth fandom didn’t like her very much, but they also “just couldn’t stay away. Aside from the Grace in Maternity blog, she still didn’t have social media open for commentary, though she did sometimes pass through Simon’s or Hazel’s comments and engaged a little bit with them. She pinned the video to other sites and then just didn’t really visit them again much.

“I could barely walk whenever I was six months pregnant. I had the finest of everything, too,” Mrs. Monroe broke into her thoughts. “Then again, I had what they now call an eating disorder for several years. I… wasn’t completely… well whenever you were announced…” she looked guilty, like she did whenever she faced her own failures as a mother. “We had to get a 24 hour nurse to keep me… healthy. By seven months, I could hardly get out of bed.”

Grace furrowed her eyebrows, “Mom… you’ve never told me that you had an eating disorder. Did you ever get help for it?”

“Help? Oh… like… whenever I had to be rushed to the hospital multiple times? Yes. I got help.”

“MOM… Did you ever heal?”

“Wait, are you asking me if I have disordered eating now? Heaven’s no, Grace. I was trapped with your father by the time you were born. I eventually realized that I had to be more… alive and well than I did flawless. We hired a nutritionist and personal chef.”

“Mom… a lot of people need psychological help for something like that.”

“And I come across to you as ‘a lot of people’? Hmph. It’s pathetic enough that I allowed myself to be so weak. I wasn’t going to beg someone to give me the strength I needed.”

“That’s not what it’s like at all…” Grace cupped her mother’s face and said, “There may be things that people need to help you with, Mom. That doesn’t make you weak or whatever else you’ve convinced yourself of. It didn’t make me weak when I needed to get help. It doesn’t make Hazel weak when she needs help…”

Mrs. Monroe waved Grace’s hands off of her face, “As long as you’re fine, have no other concerns.”

“Mom…”

“Were you done with the shopping?” Grace sighed and continued moving. 

.

Simon was pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. Several of the message boards, every one of his social media platforms, and even at least one of Hazel’s. He’d taken her devices away, but now she was angry and he certainly couldn’t find the words to explain beyond, “You can’t be online right now.” She was scribbling aggressively in one of her paper journals, and fuming. They both were fuming from different but related reasons.

Grace came in with her little shopping entourage and Hazel rushed to her, furiously. 

“Your BOY TOY took my devices DURING screen time and REFUSES to give them back!” Grace’s eyes went wide and she turned to look at Simon, who was pacing and didn’t even seem to hear the accusation, notice that she came in or to see Monty. Something was absolutely wrong here. 

“Help get the groceries and I’ll get your devices, okay?” Grace said and cupped her chin. Hazel was still breathing heavily as she stormed out towards the groceries and Mrs. Monroe settled on the couch. Grace took Simon’s hand and he was startled by her sudden touch. But, the moment he realized it was her, he let out a deep breath and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Hey. Let’s go talk, okay?” She suggested, rubbing his back. He nodded his head, but didn’t move from the spot or lessen his hold on. She squirmed a little bit and said politely, “Oxygen, Gray Eyes..” He let up and rushed out of the room. Grace followed and watched him flop on the bed and cover his face with his fists. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We’ve been doing SO well…” He said, shaking his head. 

“We have.” So, this is something that he did wrong? “And the only way that we continue doing well is to be open and caring with each other.” He slicked back the wild hairs that weren’t pulled into his ponytail. He appeared to be in a lot of pain, but she had to get whatever this was settled. “Should I go online? Will I see what happened, if I do?” She pulled out her phone, mumbling, “I’m guessing that’s why Hazel’s stuff was confiscate-” He snatched the phone from her hands and she let out a yelp, both at the audacity and the fact that she didn’t even see him get up. 

“No. I have to tell you. You can’t find out on the Internet. SHE can’t get on. She CAN’T!” 

“Why can’t she? Because, she’s pretty pissed and it IS her screen time…”

“Because, the internet is relentless and unkind, and she’s too young to have to deal with how much. Not today. She’ll… I’ll… give her extra time once it's died down.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Simon.”

He frowned, “Someone brought the tape up.” At first, she was confused. Was this something about the movie? Why would he be so upset as to take Hazel’s… “And it’s recirculating again. I’ve been reporting it and fans have been reporting it and it gets taken down, but more and more people have seen it now and it’s just… too much. I don’t want her to run into it…” NOW, she understood. That tape… which… technically… it was done with a webcam, so it was never a tape, it was a recording, but… “I saw it again… not watched it, but you know, saw a portion of it whenever I was reporting it… God…” He sat down on the bed, “You’re a kid, Grace. You had the rounded face and everything…”

“Ummm… You’re a month and a day older than me, Dude.” she said, sitting down, trying to pretend that she was more calm than her heart was allowing. She could barely breathe, thinking about the feelings that just mentioning that used to bring up for her. She wasn’t sure how she might react to seeing it come up somewhere. But, maybe she should try…

She gently took her phone back, despite his struggling. One stern look and he let it go, realizing that she was determined and he was probably already in a lot of trouble, if something had been triggered. She nodded, “Yep, looks like a few people have tagged me, asking me if I saw that somebody posted it…” She went to the video and he clenched the bedspread, moving his legs uncontrollably and looking straight ahead. “You know, a lot of people used to say that you couldn’t see your face in it, that it was out of frame, but it does come into frame a few times…” she said. She paused, “See?” He shook his head. “Simon, you’re not even gonna indulge me a little bit at a time like this?”

His frown deepened and he took another long breath. She was right. SHE was the victim in this. The least he could do was take a look at his disgusting handiwork. He saw himself and he recoiled. “You were a kid, too,” she said. “Sure, at the time, this hurt more than anything my brain can recall. But… I do know, as a grown ass woman, you were wrong and also were a child. Both of those things can be accurate.”

“We’re only a few years older than Hazel, there. If some kid did something like this to her… I would…”

“I would hope that you’d remember that you were their age once and just as bad.”

“Is… is that how you would react?”

“Oh, hell no. I’ve never done anything like this. I’d kill that fucking kid. But, you would have to be the adult that fucking pulls me off of him…” She laughed and scratched at his beard, “But, nothing like this will happen to Hazel. She’s a good judge of character and we know all of her friends.”

“Your parents knew me too, and I think that they’re pretty good judges of character. Your mom at least. She always knew that I was rotten.”

“No she didn’t! She knew that you weren’t rich, and in her head those two things were the same thing. She knew that you were controlling, and she thought that I was going to sacrifice myself for you, but she didn’t think that you were going to straight up try to assassinate my entire character.” He looked away from her, “And NOW, you are very diligent in making sure that you aren’t crossing any lines, with me and with Hazel, my mother, my father, and I think people in general. This wasn’t long enough ago that it’s not hurtful to think about… but it was long enough ago to not beat yourself up over. But… It is a burden that you designed. So, it’s only right that you explain to Hazel exactly why she shouldn’t be online right now.”

Hazel took it so much better than she had taken him taking away her computer and phone. “Are you serious? I’ll just avoid social media. You KNOW I don’t wanna see anything like that, myself, but I already knew that it existed out there somewhere.” She shook her head, “I don’t like the way you look with clothes ON, think I’d run the risk of seeing you without them?” 

Grace suggested, “Is there anything else you want to say to him? Maybe about how you broke the news to me when I got home?”

“Oh..” Hazel flared her nostrils and rolled her eyes, “Sorry I called you Mom’s Boy Toy… You kinda are, but I shouldn’t say it…” 

Simon laughed, mostly because he was relieved that she wasn’t scarred by him having to talk to her about this video resurfacing. “You kidding? I’m gonna put that on a t-shirt.”

“No cap? Because I have SO many where that came from.”

“We’ve gotta brainstorm.”

“Simpsona T-shirts can be your new thing…” And just like that, Grace watched them be best friends again. Hazel could get mad and stay mad for a long time, but she didn’t like to argue, so even whenever she got mad, she tended to stay to herself until she wasn’t. The two of them left to go sit on the swing set outside of the house they were renting, and Grace sat by her mom on the couch. 

“I don’t even want to know what that was about.”

“Cool, because I wasn’t gonna tell you.”

“You don’t have to. One of your “boy toy’s” fans will.” Grace laughed and then threw her head onto her mom’s shoulder. The woman gasped at first, taken aback by the show of affection, but then placed her hand on Grace’s. “You’re a very good mother to both of them. You’ll be a good one to that one too.” she pointed her free hand at Grace’s belly.

“Did you just…?”

“Come on, you’ve been raising yourself a man since you met him and I’ll stand by that forever. Might get it engraved on my headstone.”

Grace cackled, “I absolutely AM NOT raising him!”

“He is literally a life sized puppy that went through a rebellious phase where he kept biting you!”

“Well, I finally realized that I have the power to curve that behavior… and trust me, Mom… It’s not something you’d do with somebody you’re raising.” Grace stuck her tongue out.

“Get off of me you scoundrel!” Her mother joked. Grace just laughed and held on tighter. The woman put her arm around her. “Are you okay, Darling?”

“Whenever I was hurt or scared as a little girl, I was more afraid of admitting it to you and Daddy. I would be more hurt by the thoughts of how little you would think of me if I openly showed imperfection. Not feeling that way took a long time and a lot of work. So, now, if I have a hard day, I’m not too proud to lay on my mommy and say so.” She looked to gauge her mother’s reaction. She was always speechless whenever Grace got emotional. 

She’d never learn past those suppressing ways and it amazed Grace that her mother didn’t realize how much her and Simon were alike in that way. Simon had to work really hard at it and her mother was too proud and pampered to put in such effort. But, whenever Grace booped her nose, the woman’s eyes flickered amusement, ever so slightly. Now, she pushed Grace off of herself and opened her arms to receive Montanus. “Take a photograph of me with my children,” She told the nanny. “One with the two human ones, then we’ll add the new fur baby…”

.

She still hadn’t made any announcements about her status with Simon, nor had she spoken about her pregnancy outside of the maternity blog by the time Valentines’ Day rolled around. But, one thing that she did was allow for Simon to share maternity photos. That was her “gift” to him. 

There. Were. Tons. 

Simon took photos of everything. He had a copy of every ultrasound. He had an electronic journal of every detail that came up. So, whenever he posted the album “Countdown to Ivory’s Arrival,” he had more photos than most of the fans were probably going to look through. Therefore, he left many of them private, with only close friends able to view, and the ones that were public were his favorites of the candids of Grace being pregnant and gorgeous, some of the ones from photoshoots that she would post, and the professional maternity photos that they had taken so far. They took some each trimester, as a family. 

The ones at her three month mark were taken in New York, early November (around their anniversary, whenever he was in town. They had fall colors and all three of them were absolutely stunning. Hazel was impressed with how well that Simon cleaned up, so much that whenever he showed her older photos of himself, she thought he was a different person. She had no idea how right about that she was. Simon being both subservient and also a mega diva himself was absolutely salivating every time Grace did something, but also, it was him who insisted, "We have to have a photoshoot each trimester, each with a different theme.” She agreed on the trimesters, but wasn’t feeling the theme part so much. She told him that they could simply have the season be the theme.

They had three changes of outfits for each set. Grace had a gown made much like the one that she had worn to the fall festival in 9th grade (the one that the Idol Princess’ gown was very heavily based on, the one that Simon had taken photos of her in, getting her first beauty deal underway), one that Simon saw her in and immediately began crying. “You’re… gonna ruin the photos,” Hazel told him. 

There were candid ones of him crying. Her favorite was one where he was crying, Grace was trying to comfort him and Hazel dropped in front of them, bombing it with a prison pose and her tongue out. She had on a yellow pantsuit with fall leaves in her hair, her signature look being wearing leaves in her hair. Simon’s yellow suit was similar to hers, but way more expensive and the red accents, instead of the orange ones that Hazel elected. 

The orange outfits were Hazel in orange overalls, Grace in a romper and Simon in a jumpsuit that Hazel insisted was “the most expensive prison wear in the world.” The red ones were regal matching dress attire, Grace in a two piece dress to show off her belly, Hazel in the same floor length evening gown, but one piece, and Simon in a red suit, made of the same material. Hazel’s hair was down and flowing. Grace’s was gathered up, with most of her afro pulled forward, cascading out of the jeweled red head dress she wore, and Simon’s usually (these days) flowing hair was pulled into a ponytail, with the undercut showing. He was generally self conscious about it, but Hazel put little red jewels over his scar, so even though he was still anxious about his hair, he was proud of her accessorizing enough that he wanted to confidently show it off.

The six month ones were taken in January, and done in all white, which Hazel said, “Looks fabulous on mom and me, but you look like the abominable snowman,” to Simon, on the day of. They were in California by that time, but took a little trip to the mountains because the Monroes had property there that Simon remembered had beautiful scenery that he wanted to have family photos at. 

They did all white shots and winter blues. 

Whenever Simon posted them on Valentines’ Day, Hazel joked in the comments, “I still say that we need to crop your face out.” 

People loved the maternity photos, noticed that Grace did NOT have any on her page and she didn’t comment or react to any on Simon’s page. (Yes, these people pay entirely too much attention to the lives of celebrities that they didn’t even KNOW), but someone did some investigating and found Grace’s pregnancy blog. So… even though that was mostly a completely different following, others stormed into the space, thinking that FINALLY, some place where Grace has actually been interacting and will interact with us. She literally ignored anybody that wasn’t asking about helpful tips for their own pregnancy or giving her helpful tips and the title changed from, “Grace in Maternity” to “Y’all Can See This is a Mommy Blog, Right?”

A few people were seething, but funny enough, Grace’s faithful mommy following were more along the lines of, “Wait… You’re FAMOUS, Monroe Mommy???” After that, she had a hoard of moms check out her other life. She enjoyed having more of them in her fan base, though she also had a lot of ones who had always known being like, “Y’all seriously didn’t know Grace Monroe?” and her favorite quote ever on that blog, “Hell, her album is the reason I AM pregnant!!!”

Meanwhile, Simon had been less likely to play around with any of the fans ever since the video thing. He’d made that very clear, and then sort of stopped interacting with them. He didn’t even go through to like people’s comments anymore. Some of them would say things like, “Whoever resurfaced that video, if we find you, it's on sight for making Simon hate speaking with us!”

Sometimes a person would “Lol” and contend, “He’s too busy working on the Esmoroth movie. He’s not here because of the movie not some fuzzy sex tape from years ago.” 

Those were the only ones that he’d respond to just to say, “No, they’re right,” and nothing else. 

He wasn’t as busy on the Esmoroth movie as he intended to be. He was working on more tech and models for the movie than any other movie things. For one thing, the script was being adapted, and casting was hard. The casting director wanted to get a different type for the Idol Princess, but Simon was extremely firm and clear that the Idol Princess HAD to look exactly as described in the book. “There are parts of the story that are directly related to her looking the way that she does.”

“We can adjust those parts,” the director had said, hoping to appease him. 

“The Idol Princess looks like my childhood best friend. Her look is non negotiable,” he had told them. They didn’t believe in non negotiable, apparently, because the girls that were being considered were all much too light. Whenever Simon had rejected them all, they informed him of those girls’ filmographies and their agents and other people said agents represented.. “Maybe they have that type of record because people are hiring them for roles that were meant to be for someone else. Just… give me all of the call sheets for girl characters who auditioned.” 

He went through and disqualified half on looks alone (not to say that they weren’t pretty children or whatever, but they didn’t look like the Idol Princess). Whenever he had the stack of dark skin girls, he went through, checking their filmographies and auditions.

He asked Hazel for her opinion and she suggested a name that he recognized from his rejected stack. He pulled it back up and looked at the light skinned girl in the photo, "Do you mean this girl, Hazel?" He wondered.

"Yes! She's a really good actress!"

He furrowed his eyebrows and pointed out, "But she doesn't look like the Idol Princess. The Idol Princess has dark brown skin, tightly coiled hair, full nose and lips, and dark brown eyes. This girl has none of those things."

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, "She's really good though."

"Well… maybe some of these other girls are really good and people just don't want to see them in stuff like this." 

Hazel frowned and she asked, "Are you accusing me of favoring her because she's got features like mine?"

"No. I'm just saying that she doesn't look the part. You're usually really good about that kind of thing, Haze."

"Well… I don't know anybody in the age range that looks like the description of the Idol Princess." She folded her arms, "But like you said, maybe that's because people take the easy way out and just get the pretty Black girl that they know of to play a part instead of being true to characters. I've definitely read more books with dark skinned girls than I've seen in movies…"

"Here are some of my choices," he said and spread the sheets out before her. "I think this one has the look, but I think this one had a better audition. BUT, she was auditioning for a background character and this one was auditioning for the Wicked Heiress. Maybe she just didn't have that role in her and should audition for the Idol Princess, so we can know for sure.."

"I think that maybe they should all audition for the Idol Princess again. What if they just didn't believe it would be realistic that they'd get offered a job like this, especially if bigger stars are being considered? Sometimes, I have to talk kids into auditioning for our productions because they're worried that the same actors will win out anyway."

He gave her a side smile, "I think you're onto something, Haze."

.

Hazel sent out the invites for Grace’s baby shower. Unfortunately, all of Grace’s friends lived elsewhere, so it would be an expensive trip. Fortunately, they had money, so the Monroes could foot the bill for everyone who didn’t just have the means to travel across country for an event. 

Meta flew in with Damita from New York the previous week, but he made some business plans to collab with a Cali artist that week, so he was working, as well. Meanwhile, Damita and Grace were spending the week reconnecting and chilling. Shana and Iza came in from Atlanta the night before. Gharrisahn was already in LA for work, so she would swing by the day of. Grace’s parents arranged for Mikayla and Tulip to come down. They were in coach on the same flight that Lucy’s and Lindsay’s moms and they were in first class, so they’d all meet the driver upon landing.

Hazel had on a headset, along with Simon’s assistant and Grace’s assistant, because Hazel had arranged the shower and she wanted to make sure that things went how she meant for them to. 

Grace was in a custom made gown that was inspired by Book 3 of Esmoroth and Simon had been at her side simply staring at her for the entire time she had it on. It had been a surprise. A very nice one that he apparently loved. She hired the costume designer for the movie to make her several pieces, but this one was like the one that the Idol Princess resurrects in. Grace was now hip to the lore enough, mainly from paying attention to Hazel’s ravings, and her and Simon’s movie chat. 

For the most part, Grace didn’t want to have a shower. All of her friends lived elsewhere, the baby was due sort of close to Hazel’s birthday and she still wanted Hazel to be able to have a party - which she doubted would be able to happen if she waited until after they were born, so she wanted to have Hazel’s birthday party, INSTEAD of a shower and Hazel said, “How about you just worry about slaying everybody in your peak perfection pregnancy, and I’ll take care of the shower?” 

With the financial backing of GlamMother, her dad’s big brain, and her own penchant for moments and aesthetics, Hazel tended to be very good at making things come together. She even produced some choreography (Doereography, as she called her pieces), for her and her mother to perform, because, yes, Grace was good and swollen by May, but she also could still do mostly everything that she was doing before with that additional bundle. It did throw her balance off a little and she couldn’t lift Hazel at the moment, but she kept up with every step of the Irish step dancing that Hazel put into the choreo, and she absolutely could still nail every Haitian movement. Hazel wanted to make a birthday choreo with ties to her heritage, and Grace was always very supportive of her doing anything that made her feel connected to her identity. 

For good measure, Hazel looked up cultures from Grace and Simon’s heritages too. She was most accustomed to American jazz/hip hop and ballet. She started at 6, with Grace and when they were apart, Grace used to make instructional videos and post them just for Hazel. Whenever she was 10, she started to tap, and all of the other things in between, she and Grace perfected, and whenever she really wanted to nail something, they’d call in a world class trainer. 

Hazel felt that a world class trainer was needed for the baby shower. Grace very much so disagreed. So, Hazel got her grandmother to get them. “Next time, simply come to me first,” the woman had said. 

Hazel opened up with one of her raps. Her mom’s friends (as always) got their entire lives whenever she would flow - which was possibly the reason that she honed her talent, if she thought about it - and even Simon would be into the groove with things. He didn’t have the best rhythm, but he certainly always looked way taken up with her talent. Grace bouncing around with a round belly was everything in the world to Hazel, and when she was done, she waddled over to hug her. 

They played games, did some traditional shower things and some new things too, that Hazel consulted with celebrity event planners for. When it was time for gifts, Grace froze, looking at the way that everything flowed. It was like her 16th birthday again and she felt like she might have a panic attack. “Grace… It’s okay,” Simon said. She looked at him on the other side of the tete a tete and he smiled, “I learned my lesson. This is straight up simply tribute.” He kissed her on the forehead and she calmed down to receive gifts and cry about everything, but manage to not look ugly doing so, because no matter how comfortable she had gotten over the years, that was still engrained in her as a huge no-no.

Winding down from the party, she found Hazel and her friends at the photo booth, having switched out their baby shower outfits for their birthday party outfits. “Where’s Simon?”

“Bullying people about their gifts,” Hazel said nonchalantly. 

“Oh God…” Grace raced over and smiled, “Hey… what’s uh… what’s going on?”

Mrs. Monroe stood behind Simon with her arms folded and Mr. Laurent was in front of them. Simon answered, “Well, I’m giving people things back that went against the specifications for the list.”

“I don’t remember making specifications for the list.”

“You wouldn’t, because you didn’t, I did. You aren’t particularly great at meticulous things and you don’t pay attention whenever I’m telling you plans like these,” Simon said.

“We’re not gonna send a gift back with the person who gave it to us.”

“What are we gonna do, donate it to charity? Because I am not putting this together for our baby. This company uses…”

“Thank you, Mr. Laurent. Thank you for coming and thank you for this gift.” She gave the man a pat on the hand and smiled at Simon. He was still frowning, along with her mother. “You’re backing him up, now?” She got flashbacks of whenever they used to gang up on her and she was very salty that she had to defend MR. LAURENT of all people against the devastating team and Simon and her mother could be.

“He specifically said nothing from that company ON THE LIST,” her mom said, beginning a tirade against this man, with her and Simon taking turns on letting him know exactly how he’d fucked up.

“Their product is cheap and substandard.”

“They’ve decimated the supply of the people in the area they harness things from TO make cheap product.”

“And they use slave labor!”

“Child slaves.”

“OKAY! Okay… That’s a good company to boycott. But hear me out… Mr. Laurent is a simple man who shops at like three places and definitely doesn’t look up things like that,” Grace said.

To which Simon and Mrs. Monroe both reminded her, (loudly) “It was on the list!”

“I made it clear which companies we weren’t accepting gifts from!”

“It’s already bought.” Simon was going to continue complaining, but Grace took his hands and placed them on her belly and he immediately softened up and stared at it. “This is the most important thing, right?”

He looked up at her and cupped her face, shifting himself to touch foreheads with her. Hazel appeared out of nowhere to bomb the photo that they weren’t even expecting Lucy to take. 

.

“Wait, that was it?” Grace wondered. Let’s be clear… she did go through a lot of pain and it was a tough time in the birthing house, even with Simon right beside her and Hazel, her mother and her best friend nearby. But… it felt like there should be something else happening or that something was missing, that she had neglected something, or like something didn’t happen that was supposed to. 

She supposed that she had simply set her expectations so deeply into the thought of pain, struggle, blood, sweat and tears, that when it came… her imagination had actually run wild. Simon had kept telling her she was doing well and how he was proud of her and other affirmations. He was holding the baby now while she was being cleaned up. 

“Did everything happen?” Grace asked. 

Hazel went over the checklist with her. Yes. Everything happened. “Did I pass out?” No. She was awake. She was there for every grueling minute. It just was a different experience for her than what her mother described, than what she read and interpreted. 

The professionals explained to her how her birthing went relatively well, what to do next, etc. Charlotte, from the center, even talked to her about how it’s not only different for everyone, but how all four of her own pregnancies and births were different from the last. Grace was expecting something terrible to happen within the first few days, just because it didn’t seem like everything had happened! The paranoia died down on day 3 and she simply was back to cuddling with her new baby.

They looked like her, so far. Hazel made them a stuffie of a potato in a diaper… the baby just looked like a potato. She didn’t know how else to express that. Simon worshipped them. He was constantly holding them whenever Grace wasn’t. He was close by whenever she fed them. He took so many photos on his phone that within days, he surpassed all of the ones he had of Monty from the past several months.

NONE of those were going online any time soon. Grace had only posted a few days after giving birth her experience with having done so. She bounced back so quickly and looked so effortlessly beautiful that some people were claiming that she had been trolling and was never actually pregnant. She found that funny, but it also was her cue to duck away from the Internet for a while again. 

The first month of Ivory’s life, they were for the most part a quiet baby. Simon frequently worried that something was wrong, checking, rechecking, then coming back and checking again that they were breathing, awake, happy, etc. Grace was more like, “You’re so gross. Look at you! Drooling all over everything. Little slobbery monster!” She spoke in a high pitched voice that made Ivory smile and kick their little legs around.

“GRACE! Don’t say that!” Simon insisted. “You’re gonna make them feel bad.”

“No way! Ivory’s a tough little cookie, like their Mama. I gonna bite you, Cookie! Mama gonna bite you!” Then she playfully nibbled at their feet and hands. 

Simon studied the baby for a while and determined, “They seem to be enjoying it.” He would then relax a little. 

Hazel was the only person allowed to post photos of Ivory, and comments were always closed. The first one was on Hazel’s birthday. She was in a sundress, tanned a little more than usual and Ivory and she had on matching rompers and sunhats. “Ivory came 13 days before my 13th year. They really said, “I’ma be 13 too, Sis.” Look at them. Tiny. Tiny Potato. Sis has your back for life. #taurustribe #jk #idcboutthat #MonroeSibs #Doetography #HouseLaurent 

And there it was. All that anyone needed to see. You honestly couldn’t tell what the baby looked like, but how could anybody doubt Hazel’s hashtag “House Laurent?”

Simon sort of liked having a private family. He wasn’t sure why he had been so eager to have people acknowledge things before. Even one year ago, he needed for somebody, anybody to know that he slept in the same bed with Grace Monroe. He needed for her to say “I love you.” He needed to hear Hazel call him “dad.” He still loved those things, but he had everything he could have ever wanted… it just looked different than he thought it would. 

Why did he want to “take care of” Grace for so long? She was caoable of taking care of herself, probably better than he was of himself. She had talents (was ALREADY back to working on new dances with Hazel and new music), qualities… God… that smile made him weak… She had several other things too, but if he sat there making a list, he’d be there for a while, and he COULDN’T be there for a while, because Ivory was six weeks old and Grace told him that he could take them with him to work. 

He began strapping the baby into the stroller… “Are you… where are you trying to take my baby?” Grace asked.

“My calendar says that they’re six weeks old. I can take them to work with me.”

 Grace put her hands on her hips and Simon frowned. “You said it. I have a recording of you saying it.”

“Well, I said that we shouldn’t take them anywhere before six weeks…”

“And I set my calendar,” Simon completed the thought and pulled the diaper bag onto his shoulder. “Abigail is bringing Monty, so they’ll have a play date.”

“Oh, she is?” Grace asked, toweling herself down. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

“Grace, I’m gonna be late!”

“I’m not letting you go be a Daddy sized snack with TWO cute babies on you with a cute, perfect bodied nanny with no friends!”

“I don’t think she’s all that cute and I have no idea what her body looks like!”

“It doesn’t look like she pushed a baby out of it six weeks ago!”

“NEITHER DOES YOURS!” 

She came into the room, changed up and smiling, “Awww. That’s so sweet.”

“How did you?” She looked perfect. She looked perfect and she couldn’t have taken any longer than five minutes. And she thought she had anything to worry about? But, he wasn’t complaining. If he had Grace and the baby around, that was just better, all around. 

“I’m staying here,” Hazel told them and continued dancing in the mirror.

Grace was standing on the scooter, with Simon behind her, sporadically kissing her on the neck every now and then, making her smile and gush. Whenever they pulled into the studio Simon took the baby out, which Grace noticed was wearing an oversized heather gray, “Proof he got lucky with Grace Monroe” onesie. “Simon! What did you…?” She gasped and saw that he had a shirt, the same color that read, “I got lucky with Grace Monroe.”

“In my defense, you weren’t supposed to be here today!” Simon told her. 

“How many shirts and onesie sets did you buy?”

“Not a lot. I bought WAY MORE t-shirts than I did onesies.” She fell behind a little and the back of that man’s shirt said “Grace’s Babydaddy.”

“Simon…”

“In my defense… You were right there whenever I walked out of the house wearing it.” She laughed. “It’s just in the studio. I’m working on some mechanics. There’s not gonna be cameras on me or anything.” She was still pouting. “I know that you’re super secretive, but I’m sure that most of the people who give a damn about what we do already know that this is indeed my baby…”

“It’s not that.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Ugh. I wanted to do this whole reveal thing for you on Sunday! I was gonna make this long, sweet post and open my comments and EVERYTHING. Now, I feel like it won’t have the same effect…” His eyes were already all watery, just from her THINKING about doing so.

“Sunday is Father’s Day…”

“Yeah. I can keep my own secrets. Not tell people about my pregnancy or who I bone or how I share time with my daughter or whatever, but I didn’t plan on making you stay in the shadows of my spotlight for the rest of our lives, especially when it comes to this. You’ve been an immense pain in the ass, but you’re a wonderful father and I figured it’d be a good… coming out of sorts for me to acknowledge that on that day.”

He cradled Ivory closely, “You can still do that.”

“Well, you’ve announced it all over your clothes and also… I just told you the entire plan!”

“I love knowing plans!” Simon said. “Here.” He took off the shirt and threw on his hoodie, which it was too hot for and then they changed the baby’s onesie too. “I sort of want to eat it up whenever people actually find out from you that I am indeed, who you bone.” She laughed. “This is the best spoiled surprise that I’ve ever had!”

“Well… I didn’t tell you ALL my plans, so there’s still stuff to look forward to.”

“Yeah?” He asked, casually as they walked inside.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Can I have a hint?”

“Something that starts with the letter P.” Simon turned red and she smiled brightly.

“Uh. Didn’t put THAT on your calendar, did you?” 

His lip dropped, “I DIDN'T!” He frowned, “In my defense… we don’t really do that enough for it to have been something I was counting down to.” He smirked, “But every time we do…” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. She bit her lip and shook her head, “Nope. Sunday. You aren’t gonna beard break me, Mr. Laurent.”

Next

[illicitivywp]

thigh

part one 

"Take another picture and I swear, I will kill you."

His empty threat strings a melodious giggle from your throat, powered greatly by the three or four flutes of bubbly champagne you had earlier enjoyed, "don't be grumpy, Harry," recently, it's become your favourite pastime; teasing him relentlessly over his grouchy tendencies. 

Fire crackles calmly, contained securely in a pit, placed efficiently in the centre of where your friends chat and sip alcoholic beverages.

"I'm not grumpy. Delete the pictures."

You hum in faux thought, cinching your lips to one side and twisting to face him and subsequently irritate him further, "no, I don't think I will."

He raises an eyebrow in challenge, allowing his head to rest lazily against the cushion he had nabbed from your own chair before you even got the chance, "you will."

"Will I?" raising your phone to snap yet another picture of him, he frowns dramatically, presumably with the purpose to ruin any future plans of more photos, one which you still intend on following through, "what if I posted them on Instagram, huh? What then?"

"Then, you die."

"That is so truly terrifying," honestly, the ruthless humidity of the previous few days holds more terror than his hollow, dismissive tone, but for every word that you're uttering enthusiastically, he's not relaxing peacefully with creamy sand wiggling between his toes, and he grows only more and more irritated. Despite the absence of seriousness behind his indignation, he will genuinely consider murder if you don't finally retire in your determination to piss him off. So far, you're successful, but he won't admit that. His narcissism, whilst newly embraced as part of his inept personality and often subjected to self-deprecating jokes whilst on stage, is far too considerable for him to submit to your attempts that easily.

"If you post any of these..." his cheekbone pokes curiously at his creamy skin as his jaw shifts to allow his tongue to transport the wad of fresh mint gum from one concave of his cheek to the other, "I will throw your phone into the sea. And then, maybe you."

"You're feeling extra murderous today, aren't you? Not get laid last night?" you suggest a potential reason for his uncharacteristic irritability tonight with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous smile curled onto your glossed lips. Although the late evening dew of the air is rather unbearable at times, the temperature is pleasurably mild - certainly warm enough to constitute several cooled beers and decisions of short shorts, not a single sleeve anywhere in sight.

Tonight is your blessing of relaxation after a lackadaisical day spent between lounging lazily in the sun and dodging burns, stumbling over your limited knowledge of the complicated Greek language in bids to order a fresh soda or peanut butter ice cream (both which are, luckily, one tiny section of your all-inclusive holiday) and visiting various quaint cafes in groups, where you had already formed a sort of signature of trying the baklava from every food establishment you hit in a flippant attempt to discover the best recipe.

His glare is lethal, even through the costly sunglasses beginning to ski along the attractive slope of his nose, undeterred by his knuckle nudging the bridge back into place barely two minutes prior, "no."

"No?"

"No, I didn't, but also that's not why I'm pissed."

"I thought you weren't?" you smile luminously at the opportunity to simultaneously slip him up on his previous claim and, as it appears, irritate him further, "c'mon, H. Why're you so mad today?"

He sighs a puff out of his nose, scrunching it up like he often does subconsciously, "you really want to know why I'm feeling so angry?" he glances in your general direction, though it flies far over your shoulder and seems to focus on something of his interest in the distance, most likely located somewhere on the vast innocence of the beach that is often shadowed by the towering hotel where you and your friends are currently residing during your month-long trip.

"Please, enlighten me."

"It's because..." he leans forward, gesturing for you to follow with a flick of his index finger, indicating a private matter, "this really, really noisy, annoying girl won't stop taking pictures of me whilst I'm trying to relax." 

Your expression flattens, faking an impartial expression and hoping the quirk of your lips, forcing them into a momentary smile, is simply a hallucination, produce of the alcohol floating casually through your usually organised thoughts and jumbling them wildly. However, a tipsy giggle slips free regardless, "at least I'm successful in pissing you off."

"Remind why I invited you to Mykonos again?"

Although he's acting displeased at your disruptive presence, you do manage to spot a small smile of bemusement before he turns intentionally away, "because you love me," you shrug nonchalantly, and Harry can't help but notice how the bulbs glowing brilliantly behind you form an angelic inverted shadow of warmth, reflecting naturally from the leftover champagne smeared over your lips. 

"Hm, do I?”

"Why else would you let me do this?" grasping his wrist before it rises instinctively to block your attack, you launch from your personal seat with a pure laugh at his inability to hold his burst of comical chuckles any longer the second you come to rest peacefully, one foot supporting your balance by the floor and the other pointed highly as the respective knees each pause - beside his lowly slouched hip and between his thighs. Your own hands raise in time with his; you click another blurry picture of him and he playfully pushes at your stomach, "see! You just love me."

"That's debatable. Mitch, can you control her?" he laughs brazenly at your faux objection, appearing to have emerged from his earlier mystery of irritation - although you'd love to know the genuine cause, you would much rather mess around with the Harry you see every day. 

Mitch chuckles, a reasonably rare sight despite his contempt with life, "I'm already struggling with Sarah, she's probably way too drunk right now," for this breezy comment, he receives a light smack to the arm from Sarah beside him. Her ankles are crossed comfortably and hanging loosely over his legs, and as adorable as they currently look, she is certainly way too drunk and practically dropping off to sleep, aided by the reassuring flames trickling from the pit separating us and the countless alcoholic drinks she had consumed in a brief period of the last few hours. 

"Can you just get off me? You're heavy," Harry tries again, lying straight through his teeth because, as it seems to be turning out, he's not so opposed to you claiming a place atop his thigh, and he surely doesn't mind the shortness of your shorts that he hadn't quite noticed before, "please."

Your hips sway instinctively as you pause foolishly for thought, and his fingers itch around his cool beer bottle to grip onto your waist and set you down much, much closer than your previous (strictly friendly) interactions would imply. Eventually, you smile shamelessly at his unsettled request, lowering yourself gradually until the denim hem of your shorts brushes his

skin and electrifies a taunting shiver along his spine, almost as if you're entirely aware of your actions and their consequential effects. 

Dipping forward, his jaw is already mentally loosened to the floor, and you assist him in flipping it into reality; your thumb digs gently into the acute impression of his cheekbone and your fingers wrap steadily around his jaw, shimmering palm covering his chin and essentially silencing him. "No," your playful whisper worms its path languidly through his hazy thought process, the faint feeling of your free fingers tilting forward into his mouth clutching his wrist tightly and yanking him unwillingly back to present day. Once here, however, his eyebrows furrow in irritation yet again - your entire display, intentional or not, had been a ruse to pluck his half-chewed gum right from between his slick lips. 

Instinctively, (he kind of hopes, too) his teeth clamp together strongly before you can rip your fingers away, not enough to seriously injure you but definitely sufficient to shock you into a melodious giggle, "that's mine," he states blankly, waiting with much more patience than any normal human would have remaining with you at this point.

"No, it's not," your grin is utterly infuriating, yet radiant enough to set alight to an urge Harry's felt a fair few times, one that - up until now, it seems - hasn't quite slipped into the state of insatiability. Frequently, during your relatively common drunken nights out, he's had one or six too many drinks and you just look so incredible, so inviting, practically begging him to utilise any part of his body to pleasure you, even just to kiss you. 

Unfortunately for him, however, you've never expressed any interest in him aside from platonic cuddles during your harder breakups or holding hands with the purpose of deterring any creeping men who may, like he had a pathetically long time ago, admire your effortless beauty, which often results in Harry sat sullenly with his chin in his palm, ignoring any attempts to chat to him and viewing you from afar, silently cherishing your incandescent smile and silly dance moves. It also, most of the time, ends in you gaining a meaningful interaction with some random guy who Harry always wordlessly disapproves of but remains quiet on his opinions for your happiness, whilst Harry usually returns home either directly from whatever club or party or shamefully calls his personal driver to pick him up from whoever stranger's bedroom he finds himself inside. 

The only pacification that appears to work successfully in tearing his focus away from you is the few lasting relationships he's experienced; enjoyably, of course. He's even been in love once or twice, but the one connection that seems to endure any test - crazed fans, endless months of touring, even the brutal argument that followed shortly after he had darted any instruction you had given him and sought out and punched an ex-boyfriend who had laid his hands on you once, and that was once too much for Harry - is yours. 

"Give it back," his demand is so stern you consider obeying for a brisk moment, although after an agile deliberation, you follow your original plan and pop the gum directly on your own tongue, chewing it complacently a total of twice before he recreates your gesture.

His movements are much rougher, stronger, and considerably quicker; he squeezes your cheeks correctly and physically forces your lips to part, glaring candidly straight into your eyes when he snatches one end of the stretched gum, luckily hooked onto your canine and reassuring an easy job. In spite of his inept advantage in terms of tenacity, you had readily prepared for a fight, ensuring to grasp his jaw until the gum was resting triumphantly in your palm. 

His first mistake is releasing you before shifting his hand safely with the gum away, allowing your teeth, much like his own had, to clench down, catching the end of the mint instead of his fingers.

His second mistake is refusing to surrender his rescue attempt, inefficiently stringing it along rather than stealing it directly from between your teeth, now wrapped around the tip of your tongue.

His third mistake is maintaining eye contact...for him, at least. You're giggling drunkenly though your bite, emotionally unaffected by your proximity. 

You shift above him, and whilst you don't particularly feel how smoothly your legs fit with his, you do notice the jolt of hormones swirling through your bloodstream and the subsequent uncomfort deep inside of your tummy. Simply, you're horny, and, naturally, you attribute it to the champagne. 

His first score is regaining his sense swiftly after your slip, observing dazedly that you appear to spend a little more time caught in your head, and he wonders absently if you feel it, too. 

His second score is gathering his wits enough to squeeze once on your jaw, prying it open once again and victoriously unhooking the gum from your tooth, all before your thoughts regulate.

His third, and final, score is preserving his grip and testing his strength by repositioning your head until it levels flatly with his and twisted away from him, placing his velvet lips right beside your ear. He tucks an escapee strand away, his touch so feathery that it animates unexplainable shivers across your skin, raising goosebumps across your lower arms that are instantly noticed by Harry and earn a confident smirk; maybe, you are interested. 

You're partly oblivious to the atmosphere created around you, whilst Harry is so aware, it's already beginning to hurt. 

Disregarding the thin denim of your shorts that intervenes his bare thigh, clothed only in boxers and a white t-shirt due to the soaring heat, and your pleasure, your warmth is prevalent; he almost allows his eyes to roll backwards when he feels it, and he just can’t control himself for much longer. 

Inadvertently brushing his lips against your ear, he exhales, “you know I can feel you, right?” Your expression softens into confusion, a half-hearted plea that he’ll consider being mistaken and pretend that this entire situation never existed, “what? Did you think I couldn’t?” His tone is so low and mean that a heavy swallow constricts your throat, causing him to almost laugh lightly at your abrupt plunge of realisation, “you think you can sit right there, on my thigh, and I wouldn’t be able to feel you throbbing? Poor baby--”

“Stop,” it’s a pathetic whisper, little to absolutely no conviction roaring behind it because, for the first time in a while, you’re recognising that you don’t really want him to stop. 

“Stop?” he repeats your doubtful obstruction, an attractive chuckle hidden beneath his overly condescending voice, “do you really want that?”

His eyes twinkle with your hesitation, his lips parted just enough to allow his bunny teeth to poke out, and you’re considering your answer hurriedly; do you want that? Do you want him? Flustered, you glance towards Mitch and Sarah for an excuse to protest, disappointed yet strangely excited to find that they must’ve taken off back to their hotel room, leaving you entirely alone with Harry.

“I--” as fast as you had realised your privacy, a distinctive, drunken cackle of laughter disrupts, your stinging focus flipping speedily from his offer to your friends returning. 

Mitch’s arm is slung loosely around Sarah’s shoulder, tugging her closer when she giggles at the ticklish feeling of his relatively lengthy hair resting on her upper back. They reappear with fresh beers held in their wobbly hands, clearly oblivious to the situation they’re interrupting as they greet you with a nod of acknowledgement before flopping cheerfully into their chair.

In spite of their unexpected reentry, Harry’s bold determination doesn’t waver, “if you want me to stop, just say,” it’s another nudge of encouragement, challenging your temporary reluctance, all of which melts like ice cream dripping from his tongue when his thigh shifts purposefully beneath you and he mouths inaudibly, “quiet.” Your chest is already rising shallowly, stealing large gulps of oxygen to prevent an absence; your core pulses in replacement for the gasp that would naturally escape if you weren’t in literal public, right in front of your friends, no less. 

“Harry, have you heard from Harris?” Mitch calls out, entirely impartial to the connection between you. 

He glances over, simultaneously pushing up his sunglasses to rest in his messy nest of curls and retrieving his beer from the round table beside you, “yeah, they called earlier. They’re arriving at like... five in the morning, I’m pretty sure - said they’ll text when they land, though.” 

He moves again, clearing his throat inconspicuously and straightening his body a little when your muted whimper punctuates the friction he creates, explicitly grazing the fabric of your shorts against your clit. Mitch hums in affirmation, “what’s the name of that restaurant? The one we’re going to tomorrow?” 

“Um, Aggie’s, I think,” his free leg bounces restlessly, the several rings adorning his slender fingers clinking with the glass in his palms, “about five minutes away. ‘s got good breakfast foods, maybe we should go earlier,” he suggests evenly; if you weren’t the one struggling to silence your moans at the hands of his expertise in women’s pleasure, you would assume he’s completely unaffected. 

“Nine?”

“If you think I can be out of bed and functioning by nine…” Sarah heckles his proposition, causing everyone, with the exception of yourself, to chuckle in agreement. 

Harry’s eyes connect fiercely with yours as he raises his beer to steal a brief sip, his thigh beginning to deviate from peace at a faster pace, and you grit your teeth into a smile when he recklessly drives his muscles upwards a little to apply additional pressure to your sensitivity. When your eyelids flutter closed at the inconceivable rush of pleasure, he snaps his attention away and hides his smirk behind his bottle. 

“Ten, then,” Mitch proposes humorously, and Harry nods gradually in confirmation. 

“Is ten okay for you?” you require a beat or two to realise that his question, accompanied by a smug smile and glimmering eyes, is directed towards you. It places all attention on you suddenly, and the struggle of withholding your whines and charming sighs, knowing that everyone is watching you, mostly unaware of your current battle, heightens unbelievably, 

You nod, silent aside from a gulp of nerves and broken into pieces when he nudges his thigh upwards yet again, “yeah, that sounds great,” you spit out an answer with a faux smile, presuming that to be the single method of preventing his cruel actions from continuing. 

“Fantastic,” he speaks aloud to the group, yet his eyes remain drawn to yours, flickering momentarily to your rosy cheeks and silky lips, “we’ll meet in the lobby at quarter-to,” he surveys your surroundings, particularly where the other’s attention lies currently. 

Apparently, he deems it to be safe to speak quietly to rile you up further. However, you lunge at the opportunity of his distractedness, experimenting discretely and raising your hips slightly from his leg, swiftly clamping your thighs together in a desperate search for relief; the alleviation of pressure you do receive and the pleasure that follows suit is unimaginable. 

Harry disapproves immediately. One, firm squeeze of your waist lands you right back where you had managed to temporarily escape - despite how much you’re enjoying the implication of riding his thigh, (which is utterly insane in itself, you can’t believe you’re genuinely allowing yourself to do this) the pace he’s setting isn’t nearly as fast as you desire. 

His hand glides intently from your hip, grazing over your centre in passing before sliding haltingly along your own thigh. Although they’re about half the size of his, you appear to mold perfectly.

Eventually, his fingertips tap lightly at your knee, slipping beneath to grasp it in one, heavenly palm with incredible ease, physically restraining any potential movement and quashing any hope of relief you foolishly had clung onto like life support, “Harry…” 

“Shh, c’mere,” he whispers lowly, a mischievous glint sparkling in the green of his irises and informing you that he has some sort of plan. You almost moan out when he hits exactly the right spot once, and by the time he figures out a subtle rhythm, nudging your clit with every single shift of his thigh, your own are shivering and your teeth are digging into your bottom lip to the point of pain with the sheer effort of maintaining relative control. 

“I--” you trail off, scrunching up your nose and knitting your feathery eyebrows together, burrowing your nails into the fleshiest part of your palm.

“Hm?” he hums knowingly, removing his hand from your knee and running soft lines along your leg. If you weren’t already trembling from his superficial touch, you certainly would be now. His fingertips travel further towards where your shorts are already displaced an inch or two each time, a wild glance cast over to where your friends sit, unaware and chatting amusedly, secures your fragile safety, “you gonna come, is that it?”

The smugness dripping from his words like honey strings a soft sigh from your lungs, your stomach and fingers quivering visibly as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

You nod in response, squeezing your eyes shut to quell the risk of a stray moan slipping out and humiliating the both of you, but, for Harry, this doesn’t seem to be satisfactory. He requires a spoken answer, and you don’t even have the ability to speak, currently. 

His mellow fingertips finally reach the apex of your thighs, terrifying yet relieving; if he slips his touch anywhere near your bare, warm skin, you surely wouldn’t be able to physically withhold your whines, and yet, you’re silently begging him to disregard that possibility entirely and and rip all of your clothing to shreds right here. 

Deliberately lazily, he slides the fabric covering your center aside, and, as much as he’s craving just the sight of you, he knows that you’re not exactly in the correct mindset to permit him to see anything without liability, so his eyes hover directly on yours. Your eyelids flutter closed in anticipation for his touch and preparing for the unbearable pressure built in your stomach to release shortly.

Expecting warmth, you jolt in surprise and gasp quietly at the iciness of his fresh bottle of beer pressed snugly against your bare skin, risking a timid dredge of your nails along his bicep which flexes with the effort of spreading your legs for him. 

He smiles, satisfied at your reaction, not bothering to focus on you any longer; his forearm runs along the entire length of your thigh, two fingers supporting the bottle and his elbow pushing on your knee as he plucks his phone from the table with his free hand, holding it loosely and without an ounce of care. The prospect of him making you feel this senseless and barely even paying attention to your tiny trembles is driving you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Hey, Mitch,” he speaks normally, catching the attention of everyone and forcing you to quieten to full silence, “what’d you think of the beer?” 

“It’s pretty good - not as good as that one from Madrid, though.”

Sarah chuckles in agreement, “no wonder. Nothing could be better than that.”

“Actually--,” Harry pauses, abruptly removing the bottle from between you, appearing to the others to have been resting innocently on his lap, and raising it. You physically clench your mouth shut tightly when, instead of taking a sip, he tilts his head and, in one, large sweep of his tongue, he cleans your dripping arousal from the glass, smiling angelically in your direction. This time, he does take a small drink of the alcohol you have always preferred to avoid, “tastes really good.” 

Mitch nods in fairness, assuming his comment to be about the beer, but you know better, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

“I think... it might be the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he laughs, as does Harry, and as it seems, Sarah has fallen asleep with her forehead landing on her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

His eyes meet yours yet again, a quirk of his eyebrow implying to lean down, “are you listening?” You nod compliantly, “you’re gonna keep riding my thigh until you come, understand?” 

Jaw clenching as you swallow thickly at his demand, you feel as if you could finish just by the viciousness to his tone, “yes.”

“Good girl, and be quiet about it,” he instructs decisively, frowning slightly when his phone alerts with the buzz of a phone call. At your brisk glimpse, the screen reads Jeff, and you feel somewhat comforted yet horrified at the fact you know the caller personally, because, after all, his client and close friend is about to make you come. “Hi, what’s up?” 

“Harry, have you been on instagram recently?” Jeff sounds seriously concerned, which instantly matches in Harry’s expression; you would mirror his nerves if you weren’t so focused on the pleasure of his bare thigh rubbing against your clit repeatedly. Understandably, you’re a little preoccupied.

“Uh, no, I’ve been out for a while. Is something wrong?” this particular comment is certainly enough to catch your attention, and you freeze with nothing but an artful grin. 

“Someone appears to have posted some photos of you, from tonight, I’m assuming,” he announces, and Harry’s gaze snaps maliciously to you, “I’m guessing the culprit is with you right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” if you thought the intensity of his glare was fiery before, you’re now blistering from the blaze, “don’t worry, I can sort it out.”

“I don’t think many people have caught them quite yet, but a few have tweeted about it.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll deal with it.”

“Have a nice night, H.”

“You too, mate, speak to you tomorrow,” he exhales as if he were exhausted shortly after ending the call, calmly setting his phone and beer upon the small table. In a sudden twist, your hair is tangled around his wrist and becomes leverage for him to yank you closer, “I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you, you know that?” 

Your squeak of anticipation is barely audible, though the hint of hilarity is strongly set within your darkened eyes, “mhm.”

He releases you with a unique roughness that stretches a gasp from your lungs, “make yourself come,” the comment is flippantly articulated, and yet, utterly cataclysmic for the pressure you dare to cover your centre with again and again. Within thirty seconds, your thighs are trembling, your stomach is clenching in count with your core, and your features are scrunched up firmly. 

Usually, he would view the contortion of your face to be adorable. He has many times in the past, in fact. Right now, however, he’s concentrating heavily on not coming just from the sight of you curbing your whimpers and trying so hard not to alert your drunken friends of your provocative acts. Absently, he wonders how an outsider would perceive the two of you at this moment; is it obvious? Do you look like a happily married couple or is it clear that you’re simply friends who slipped and accidentally blurred the boundaries set naturally between you? 

You muffle your sob against his shoulder, and, in an effort to appear in the eyes of others like a platonic act of comfort, he buries his fingers into your messed hair, embracing you closer and allowing him to drive his thigh upwards in time with your subtle movements. 

His lips, craving to be connected to yours, flatten neutrally, mirroring the rest of his face - Mitch, who’s awoken by Sarah’s quiet snores, smiles privately at your proximity. Whilst it’s obvious he’s not aware of the deeper purpose of your closeness, he had figured out that Harry was completely over his head for you barely weeks after meeting him, and he’s pleased that you seem to have crossed the line of friendship. 

“I- I’m so close--” you choke out against his supportive weight, your voice cracking pathetically and causing the corners of his lips to quirk up smugly, “Harry…” your jaw drops laxly whilst the rest of your body tenses; your nails dig crescent moons into his bicep, your thighs quiver around his, your core pulses in nearly painful relief at the abrupt dissipation of pressure.

He thinks you look so, so incredibly pretty at any given moment, but he has to say, seeing your highest inhibitions unravel so profoundly as you come for him, you’ve truly never looked better than when you’re his. 

Chest rising hollowly, a sharp inhale rips through your lungs and reinvigorates your perception of reality, and, this time, your jaw plummets for a whole other cause. 

Oh, my God, what the fuck did you just do? 

You actually, genuinely just rode the thigh of one of the biggest celebrities in the modern industry, topping every chart and barely batting an eyelid at women hurling themselves at him, exactly as you had just done. 

And you liked it--loved it, even.

He made you come; an occurrence that (unfortunately for your childish expectations that were shattered several years ago) is often rare and difficult to achieve. And he did it without so much as a single touch. 

Regaining movement as your senses begin to slow down in their innate tingling and his hand shifts from your untidy hair, he tries not to focus for too long on your flushed cheeks and puffy lips, “you good?”

“Did you really just ask if I’m good?”

“Yeah.”

“...yeah, I’m really good, Harry. What was that?” you stutter in a panic; sure, you’d had your moments of appreciating his attractiveness and wondering what it’d be like to potentially obscure the boundary of friendship between you, but you had never even considered that. 

He smiles youthfully, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb, “a preview. C’mon, I’m so, so far from done with you.” In one sudden swipe, all of your hesitance, all of your anxiety over the implications of whatever the fuck you just did, disappears into thin air, and you’re willing for absolutely anything.

Your platonic relationship is fucked already, why not destroy it entirely?

[cathyparrlyn]

We’re all just mirror shards

_________________________________________________________

Hey everyone! It’s No One here, or perhaps you now know (if you have read a certain lovely, beautiful, baby tief’s post) that my name is Maddy. It’s great to finally post this next part, first update of 2020! Woo!....

Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. I’m sorry for that, but not only am I working on future chapters and a special writing project (some of you might have already heard about it, oops-), but like, school. Ugh. But don’t worry, I have plenty of content to give you guys, so I shouldn’t fall too behind with my updating schedule!

I want to shoutout two people today. First off, one of my writing friends, @justonemoretheatrekid who is super sweet and has helped me with my bi panic, so thanks friendo! I enjoyed chatting with you! :3

I also want to give a special thanks to another one of my writing friends, @toomanyfamdom for not only helping me edit this sucker (legit the only reason I was able to post today. Bless her soul for putting up with my comma crazy piece.), but also for being the sweetest and best baby in the world. She makes me a proud mama. :3 love you baby! And thank you for not joining in on the “(censored name) for the pole” chant. I know how much you like to troll me tho, so I guess will see what happens next time. Lol. <3

Also, good news and bad news! 

Good news! This chapter has the “read more” option! Bad News! It cost me all the pretty and colorful fonts. ;-; Also, it won’t let me edit my draft from my iPad now as I did the function on the computer. So like... I can’t fix it. :(

So now I have a dilemma. Which should I use, the read more function or the colorful and pretty fonts? Please reply down below if you have a preference. Anyways, enough with my long ass author note!

Without further interruption, the chapter! Woo!

Word count: about 2,212 words.

Warnings: Cursing, bullying. (Also, Anne being a useless lesbian gremlin and Cathy being a bi disaster. OWO UWU)

Enjoy~

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Part 11

Annie Boleyn

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…………………………………......Recap………………………………………

“Sorry about that, I’m just so fucking tired of bullshit,” Anne muttered, snapping Cathy out of her thoughts.

"Huh?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Cathy was a dumbass. She had to be. How else could she have fucked up so badly with her words? They were her thing! But with Anne, all she could muster up to say was ‘huh?’ Huh! Ugh, she just can’t with herself right now.

What’s worse, this is serious. Anne looks like she needs someone to talk to, Cathy can be that person, but not if she’s a disaster.

Parr wants to be there for Anne. She craves to develop their relationship, for them to get closer. To be able to share inside jokes and small smiles with each other. To have long conversations and calling each other late at night just to rant because they know the other will listen. For the comfort of knowing that she does, in fact, matter to Anne.

Right now she felt farther away from her goal than ever. Looking up, she saw an indescribable look on Anne’s face, the only thing she could note was the fear in Boleyn’s eyes as she held herself. An uneasy feeling washed over Anne as she realized she might have said too much around Cathy. She was nervous. Cathy couldn’t believe it. Anne was scared of her own opinion, and that worried Parr. Boleyn was speechless, not knowing how to respond. It was painful to see this side of her. Yet Cathy couldn’t help but stare. This new side drew her in, and Parr couldn’t stop herself from questioning more and more about who Anne really was. And what could have possibly happened to the Boleyn girl to make her feel so mortified that she couldn’t even express her own feelings.

Now Cathy was scared. She couldn’t just stand there and wait Anne recover on her own. No, Catherine wants to help her, she needs to help Anne.

So with a deep breath, Cathy had made her decision to keep moving forward with the conversation. She refused to make Anne start things, this time she’ll make the first move. For Anne’s sake.

“Hey, are you alright? I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.”

“No, no. It’s stupid, just, please. Forget about it.”

Cathy felt as if she was stabbed in the heart after hearing that statement. Anne was amazing, smart, talented, and said some of the most interesting things Cathy has ever heard. And here she is now, saying that her feelings are stupid.

Cathy doesn’t know who made her feel like this, but they are going to pay for it. Yet, that is for another time, right now Cathy has to focus on comforting the Boleyn girl.

“Hey Anne, we’re friends right?”

“Well, yeah, I would like to think so.” Anne tentatively mumbled. She expressed a blatant insecurity that Parr would reject the idea. But why?

Parr wanted to further analyze this side of Anne and try to figure out what might have happened to her, but she couldn’t. Not right now, when Anne needed a friend. No, especially now since Anne needed a friend, someone to be there for her, to reassure her things were okay. That is what Parr needed to be right now. Her friend.

Cathy smiled, bumping their shoulders together. Hence, grabbing Anne’s attention as Parr stared at her with a look that Anne wasn’t used to seeing: patience and love. With a gentle squeeze reminding Anne of their connected hands, Cathy let the Boleyn girl bask in the show of affection. Anne deserves to enjoy this moment, to feel comfortable with her own thoughts. What’s more, she deserves to have someone to listen to her. Cathy can very well be that person. All Catherine had to do was prove that she would and could be there for her. So she spoke up, determined to help Anne no matter what it takes.

“Then there you go. Your opinion matters to me, Anne. As your friend, I don’t think this is stupid. Not one bit. So please, don’t feel afraid to talk to me. You have a wonderful voice, and I truly think it should be shared with the world.”

Cathy observed as Anne stared at her in shock. A blush formed on Parr’s cheeks as she noticed a sudden change in the Boleyn girl. Tension had quickly left Anne’s face and was now replaced by a small, soft, genuine, and breathtaking smile. Really, Cathy could go on about the beauty of Anne’s smile, but she was rather focused on something else. It was way more important than her feelings. Gratitude, that’s what Anne’s expression conveyed instead of the fearful look she wore mere seconds ago. Anne gently squeezed Cathy’s hand back, returning the affection as she pulled Cathy in so they could be in closer proximity. The action cause both girls heart to race as they were lost in the moment, staring at each other in a comfortable, knowing silence. Both were thinking the same thing.

She does see me.

Finally after taking a few deep breaths, Anne was the first one to break the silence.

“Thank you, that… that really means a lot Cathy.”

“Of course Anne. Do you, um... Do you want to talk about it?” Cathy gingerly asked.

Anne looked down as she contemplated what to do. After a few seconds of thinking it over, she slowly nodded her head.

“Alright, I’m here to listen whenever you ready.” Parr, acknowledging that she was looking down, squeezed Anne’s hand again. Cathy hopes it would reassure Boleyn that Parr planned on being there for her. Seeing that Anne had mustered up the courage to look up at Catherine and start her explanation, Cathy thinks it’s safe to say that it worked.

"Ok, so, our generation is stupid, right?” Anne started off.

“100% agree, continue please.”

“It’s just, no one cares about others' stories. Make believe or real, every story matters. Yet we cast them aside and hold an egocentric viewpoint that mentally and physically tears others down. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Of the kids in the halls?” Cathy hesitantly asked.

“Of basically everyone! They all piss me off! Like, no one even understands why I read, the majority of those people don’t even think I can read! I’m nearly eighteen, for Christ's sake! How would I be in an advanced English class if I couldn’t read?”

“I don’t know, kids are stupid.”

“I know, but… you’re the first person to understand this and believe me…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Anna won't shut up about how I can't do math, Kitty doesn't like poetry and always whines about me speaking ‘gibberish’ when I rant about it, and the rest of the school thinks I text shit like, 'dat waz fun' smiley face, winky face, kissy cat." Anne rolled her eyes. "It's just..." she pursed her lips, then looked at Cathy and gave her a small smile. "It hurts after a while, y’know. So it's extremely refreshing to finally talk to someone who appreciates writing."

"I totally get that." Cathy nodded.

"Really?" Anne stared at her as if she had two heads.

"Yeah... actually, at my last school, I was teased for reading so much," Cathy elaborated honestly. She doesn't know why, but she felt a need to tell Anne this. It was as if that Boleyn girl elicited a strong desire for Parr to talk about herself. She wanted to know all about Anne, and for Anne to know all about her.

Even if it was about her embarrassing loser past. It's not like she can escape it, only accept it and move forward.

"What the hell is wrong with this generation? That's stupid!" Anne groaned.

Well, at least Anne agreed with her about the matter.

"They called me novel nerd," Cathy bluntly stated.

"... Fucking Alliteration." Anne said after muttering what Cathy assumed was French swear words. She then pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah." Cathy bitterly laughed.

"Want me to fight them for you?" Anne offered, holding her fist up and pretending to punch the air to show she was being serious.

"No, but thanks... it's just like you said earlier, it's nice just to be comfortable enough to talk about these things with someone and know that they respect it." Cathy smiled at her.

Anne lifted Catherine's hand up a bit and gently stroked it.

"Cath, I got you." The gentle action caused Cathy to blush. Anne then looked up with a spark of mischief. "Let's run away to live in a library."

Cathy couldn't help but let out an unlady-like snort. A bit embarrassing, yes. But luckily for Catherine, Anne adored it. She couldn't stop herself from adoring it even if she tried.

"Sounds like heaven." Parr grinned, finally managing to calm her laughter.

They both stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, but after those few seconds of silence, they burst into a laughing fit.

Catherine then looked up at Anne. Something caught her attention about her suggestion. The way she referred to something, or rather, herself.

"Cath, Huh?" She raised an eyebrow, looking Anne over in a teasing manner.

It's time for some playful payback.

She noticed how Anne flinched, and for a quick second, looked embarrassed, but it quickly washed away and was replaced by her usual confident expression.

"Oh, yeah. I just think it's cute and, um, it suits you. Is it alright if I call you that?" Anne asked.

Cathy couldn't stop the dorky smile that was spread across her face. Just hearing Anne give her a nickname just like how she had given one to Katherine, warmed Cathy up inside. She was growing closer to Anne each second and her interest for the girl continued to grow.

"Sure, but only if I get to call you nicknames too!" She agreed.

"Go for it, you got two slots."

Catherine pondered for a second. What should she call her?

Catherine couldn't help but giggle at the first thought to come to mind.

"Okay, first one has to be gremlin."

Anne's smile dropped and her eyebrows furrowed.

"You know what Cath? Fuck you." She huffed, a small pout was plastered on her face. Ergo, causing Cathy to burst into a giggling fit.

After a few seconds of giggling and admiring Anne's pouty face, Cathy managed to calm down.

"Okay, um... Next is.... hm."

It took Cathy a few seconds as she looked Anne up and down. She didn't actually need to check the girl out, she just wanted an excuse too.

The action, however, had caused Anne to blush.

Then it hit Cathy. Her lips quirked up at the idea for what to call the Boleyn girl. Sure, it was simple, but so was Cathy. So it’s fine. No, Parr will do one better.

It was perfect.

"Annie," Catherine said, squeezing Anne's hand and beaming at her with a warm smile.

Anne's happy expression fell after hearing that. Cathy noticed the change in expression.

"Um, is everything alright?" She asked.

"H-huh? Oh, um, yeah. It's swell." Anne nervously looked away.

Cathy stared at her worried, but Anne refused to show any sign of pain. Instead, she just gave Cathy a fake smile and avoided eye contact.

There it is again. The change in expression, the change in tone, the change in the atmosphere around her. All of these changes thickened the air and added to the mystery of Anne Boleyn.

Who was she?

Just a second ago, she was all bubbly. But with just a single name, she instantly became a timid sheep. She wore nervous, wide eyes that were surveilling the surroundings as if she was watching out for a predator, fearing for her life. However, the only other person there was Cathy.

She did that. She did this to Anne Boleyn. She doesn't know how, nor why, but she did it. An god, did it feel awful.

Cathy could only do what she thought was right at the time, to check on the girl.

With a gentle squeeze initiated by Cathy, Anne's eyes slowly looked up. Her breathing was a little heavy and her face was a calm, serious. Cathy's anxiety grew with each lurid second passing. Finally, after making it all the way up the excruciating trail, Anne's eyes met Cathy's.

For a brief second Cathy swore she saw the corner of Anne's eyes filling up with tears, and her skin was slightly paler than usual.

But it disappeared in seconds as she hastily swapped her expressions, as if she was trying to hide something. She... she was trying to hide herself.

Anne had put back on her mask, yet it was too late.

Her perfect image had already broke in front of Cathy, not that she planned on telling Anne that.

So with a heavy sigh, Cathy acknowledge that she needed to do something.

"Anne I-"

"Stop it. There's no need for that." Anne interrupted her in a cold tone, yet she still had a "smile" plastered on her face.

"Huh?" Cathy looked at her confused.

"Really Cath, I'm fine." She muttered loud enough for Cathy to hear her.

Cathy knew that wasn't the case. It most certainly wasn't the case at all. Cathy wanted to convey to Anne that she knew this, and that she wanted to help her. She wanted to stop right there, tell Anne it's okay not to be okay, perhaps even give her a hug.

But she didn't know Anne. They weren't close. Anne said it herself, they just met recently. And although Cathy was connecting with her, Anne might not be as into it. She doesn't know. Boleyn is still a mystery to her, one she has yet to uncover.

So how could she break through Anne's mask? She didn't have the right because she doesn't know her. At least, she doesn't know her yet.

"Okay. If you say so...." she reluctantly dropped the subject.

Mark Cathy's words, she'll read Anne's backstory one day. Cathy might cry, she might laugh, hell, she might not know what to think. But she knows that she'll be there for Anne when the time comes.

Until that day comes, this is all she could do for now.

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Tag list: @sarahzarahh @annabanana2401 @lesbabe6 @aveasorae @qnneboleyn @whenallthestarscollide @its-totes-gods-will @canadianharrypotter @epitomeofchaoss @obliviousasheck @heeleys4feeleys @liliocelotepremium @six-is-awesome @thatbolxyngirl @toomanyfamdom @the-queen-bee-is-here @a-slightly-cracked-egg @thatonedisaster-gay @aywdaimie @thegaywhokindalikesmusicals @everything-insanity @babeebobo @one-time-i-jumped-off-a-cliff @wicked-books-101 @33o9 @agustjnk @i-really-dont-use-this-anymore Please reply if you wish to join the tag list or if your username changes so I can update the list :D

[queerpontmercy]

pick four characters and then roll a d4 for each of these numbers to determine which char to answer for: 1 4 5 6 17 22 24 26 39 27 51 57 60

tumblr did me so dirty but I finally got all of these in one doc, thank you <3 I decided to alternate between my Beam Saber pilots for character #4, so we have Solace “Trash Panda“ Altiora the infiltrator, and Dr. Finch Tandem, the officer/cat herder. Put under a cut because fuck this is so long...

What does Solace typically keep in his pockets?

I rolled a 3 for Leucien, but I already described his pockets, so...Solace is messy and generally keeps a tube of lipstick within easy reach, which means inevitably he’s also got a few tissues stuffed in a pocket from the last time he had to apply blot it. Other than that, he always has at least one knife on him, and that could feasibly be in a pocket. No, he’s not just happy to see you. 

Other than that, you know he’d never tell but honestly? I think he keeps his old prayer beads on his person, despite having left the Cenotaph both physically and spiritually. There’s something grounding about them: something organic in a world full of unforgiving machinery and vastly unknowable AIs, perhaps. It’s still soothing. Shut up. 

4. If Tanith was a work of art, how would you describe her?

This is such an interesting question for Tanith-- the most important bit for her would be that it’s something functional and beautiful, made lovelier still by use. A well-loved sea shanty with lyrics that keep time out on the water, a handsome medicine chest with fanciful carvings of beasts on each wooden panel…oooooh maybe a set of three nesting clay pots/jars! The first one is big and solid, rough gray-green with a fitted lid and decorations like barnacles and limpets, and below that is one with blue and brown glazes, pooling and mixing into each other, and the last (smallest) one is delicate and porcelain, almost opalescent from within where the light hits it, with the most simple, graceful curved shape It’s meant to house something rare and precious. 

5. How does Tanith express she’s comfortable?

She doesn’t like to sit in her emotions or thoughts, and spends a lot of time trying to transmute them into practical action. You’d know she’s comfortable if she let herself be still, taking in the world with quiet acceptance, and told you what was on her mind-- what she saw, or remembered, or was thinking about, without worry, just being. 

6. How does Fen express that they’re uncomfortable?

Fenestra argues about stupid shit-- pedantry in particular is such a refuge. Having a hill to die on helps her feel slightly in control, since feeling powerless is definitely one of the things that makes her most uncomfortable. She’d never admit to it, but it’s also a way to knock Threats down a peg or two. 

17. Does Leucien swear? What’s his favorite phrase/word?

For sure, but since Leu is 3 feet tall, he almost certainly got the “ohhhh i had no idea, you’re so iiiiinnocent~” treatment after saying one (1) fuck word. I was tonight years old when I learned he’s partial to “oh balls,” which is decidedly not one of my (Sketch’s) phrases, but I guess it makes sense intrinsically? Most swear words are either profane, sexual, or insulting/derogatory. Gnomes in this campaign aren’t religious, culturally speaking, and he’s not the kind to start a fight. 

Now that means there’s actually a good chance that he has at least once, in a fit of extreme frustration, blurted out “Aerum’s b--” before very hastily correcting to “face, face, I was gonna say face.”

I’m shocked I have so much to say about this, but...he was an academic, and I also have a strong hunch that he had a terrible little pretentious phase where all his swear words came from Old Gnomish or Dwarvish or oooh, maybe languages his old friend Aza had picked up, but...at this point he reasons it’s better to say the things in Everendian/Common if you want people to know what you’re saying. 

22. What kind of person would Finch never side with?

Finch would never side with a landlord cop bully. Well, definitely not a landlord or cop either. But man, the kind of leader who throws their weight around for the sake of it and intimidates innocent people into carrying out their orders? They really, truly despise ‘em. And leaders who treat the individuals under their wing as pieces of a calculated risk rather than full people. They’d honestly rather die than become that kind of leader. 

24. What’s a controversial food opinion Leucien would have?

Pineapple on pizza is good actually you guys are just mean

Leu thinks the fact that there’s such a thing as “controversial food opinions” is fascinating. He’ll try anything once, so point-blank disregarding something as disgusting feels like snobbery to him. And even badly-cooked food can tell you so much about the people who make it, so and that learning’s a pleasure in and of itself. 

26. What would Tanith want for her funeral?

In Tanith’s culture, dying orcs are dressed in burial clothes, shrouded, and left to make their “final voyage” on their own in quiet contemplation. She would uphold this tradition. Burial and scattering of ashes at sea are common, but I actually think Tanith might want to be buried at the “interfaith” shrine she established on the mainland post-campaign-- Ishka willing, to be its guardian and perhaps, in a way, guide the lost on their journeys after her death. 

She would certainly want her dear friends and party members to speak in her memory at a ceremony, especially Cae and Avris, who saw her through so much. Nothing prepared. Just what comes from the heart in the moment. Perhaps she has also transcribed an old Orcish lullaby for her beloved Anya to play at the end, with the music drifting through the air and quietly dissipating, like sea foam as it hits the shore. 

27. If they were a ghost, how would Solace haunt in the afterlife?

Solace would be such a chaotic asshole ghost but he’d have the time of his (after)life. He already has such a great time being a local cryptid as it is, convincing people that an abandoned amusement park or shopping mall might be haunted. It’d be even worse in death. The thing is, if he was a ghost and knew nothing could hurt him, he’d be even more unsubtle, he’d really want to see the impact of his tricks and shenanigans for once after a lifetime or lurking. 

39. What does Finch believe their party lacks?

Finch knows that their squad has each other’s backs in the practical way-- they’ve seen teammates trauma out or take major damage protecting each other. But they think that what the Intrepid is missing is emotional vulnerability, and it’s important? If we’re not honest with ourselves, how can we be honest with each other? It keeps them up at night sometimes. 

51. What makes Tanith a hypocrite?

She’ll forgive everyone except herself, obviously. Since she was able to get some closure with her ex Kleiya, who didn’t die but was transported to another plane, she hasn’t been nearly as consumed with guilt over who she used to be, but still? She’ll tell someone not to burn out all at once, she’ll tell someone they’re good just as they are, and never believe it herself. :/ 

57. How does the way Leucien acts seemingly contradict his ability scores?

FitD scores don’t translate as well, so...Leu it is! 

He’s got +3 charisma, but he’s the most awkward man in all of existence and can’t be normal for even two seconds. I actually don’t think it’s that contradictory; charisma is a force of personality, after all, and Leu’s got that. He became an object of cult worship in a matter of months, after all...But also I do think he’s got an endearing, bookish, understated charm, and hey, that’s a kind of charisma. D&D often makes charisma out to be the smooth-talking seduction stat, but I really enjoy when it can be more than that.

He’s also got decently high wisdom, but I’ve been playing him with small dog energy. We’ll figure it out, I suppose.

60. Who does Fenestra go to when she needs to bounce ideas off of someone?

Fenestra has a littol greyromantic wtf-is-this crush on Eli, another of the Oracle’s apprentices. :3 They have honed different ways of seeing the future. Fen captures big fragmented portents that don’t make sense until later, whereas Eli is a lot more scrupulous, and tends to focus on details and possibilities, mapping out the pieces of a butterfly effect. They really respect his different way of thinking; it’s been incredibly helpful, and if she were feeling mentally stuck Fen would go to him, no question. He’d listen.

[ambidextrousarcher]

Sarcastic StarBharat Reviews- Episode 2: Pratigya, Iccha Mrityu, and a very long, detailed, boring part.

The episode starts off with Devavrat calling his mama to do a prakat and witness his oath. She doesn’t do a prakat, the skies are still all red-red, obviously this oath thing is not a good idea. (Sidenote: Neither elements of nature, nor characters in the actual epic are half the drama queens they’re portrayed as in this show) But no one cares, because plot. And the oath proceeds. Devavrat swears on his mother’s divinity, her purity and his father’s trust that he won’t be Hastina’s King, he’ll be its servant all his life. (Also. Mata Satyavati? That soon? Whoa. Dedication) Shantanu makes his horrified entry in the middle of his oath, which is one long oath. Anyway. Devavrat swears that he’ll give the Kingdom over to Satyavati’s kids, and for the sake of their future, he will abstain from marriage, from family and be a brahmachari all his life. For some reason, Satyavati is gaping like a fish. I dunno why. She’s gotten all she’s asked for, right? I see. She wasn’t expecting to. BTW, she’s looking rather horrified, too. Maybe she’s regretting it already… All this takes place to the music of ‘Dharme cha arthe cha kaame che moksha cha…” Should I assume it’s adharm? Probably. The waters of the Ganga begin boiling and shooting out like geysers. It is making clearer by the moment. Not a good idea. But what is done is done. Shantanu, idiot that he is, yells his son’s name after he’s done swearing the oath. He runs up to his son and goes “What have you done?” while Devavrat, quite coolly, goes ‘Pranipat, Pitashree.’ You gotta admire the man here, really, you got to. Apparently, Shantanu still wants to drown in self-pity, because he’s like “How could you take such a terrible oath (Bhishm pratigya)? You’ve forgotten that a gift too large is no pleasure, but punishment…” Dude. If you want to look for ways to remain wallowing in self-pity, everyone! Take lessons from Shantanu. I mean, what does it take for this guy to be happy? Devavrat, all Mr. Dutiful son, goes “No, no, dad, don’t say that! I haven’t given you any boons, just made sure the Kingdom of our ancestors remains afloat. I just pressed the delete button on all future problems!” Oh, dear. My beautiful summer child. You have no idea how horrendously you’re wrong. He continues in the same vein. “This is my duty as the crown prince.” Shantanu gleefully accepts it, saying, “Many people grant wishes, but few have the courage to accept it as duty.” He then asks for a chance to return the favor. Devavrat, who is a paragon of perfection here (which he is not in canon, so #canon fail 3, I guess) asks for the boon not to die until Hastinapur is ruled by Dharma and Samarth (talent) both. (In that vein, the King he dies for doesn’t have Samarth, afaik. He just uses his brothers’ Samarth for his purposes. But maybe I’m biased. Or maybe it counts anyway.) Cue the precap scene. He gets iccha mrityu and is also christened with the name Bhishm. Cue dramatic “Bhishm Bhishm Bhishm” music, followed by slow Bhishm theme.

We cut to a map. Quite a beautiful one. And focus on Panchal. We reach Panchal, where there is a crowd clamoring for the King to punish someone. Who could it freaking possibly be? Oh, shit. Shit. He’s Hastina’s Prince, Prince Vichitraveerya. (BTW, what kinda name is that?) Also, canon fail #4, I think. Vichitraveerya wasn’t ever this debauched in canon, afaik. Correct me if y’all remember something like that, okay?  Also, this guy gets a swell intro for someone who’s about to be punished, flogged, I guess. That guy, for his part, is watching the proceedings with a super creepy smile. He’s accused of drunk entry into Panchal and the crime of setting farms ablaze, which is a more serious crime than manslaughter, apparently. So he’s sentenced to death. Oh, yeah. He appears quite unconcerned, stating that his elder brother will come to his rescue. And then he goes on and spits on the Panchal King’s face. Bravado. The punishment begins. And…an arrow cuts through Mr. Drunk Trespasser’s bonds. Bhishm theme! Bhishm makes a dramatic entrance. A trading of words occurs, to the theme of ‘Your Prince messed up bad, we were just taking advantage of the situation.” Bhishm comes with a legit badass line, “Raavan thought he was taking advantage of the situation when he set fire on Hanuman’s tail. Do not set fire to Bhishm’s hear.” Dude. Badass. Referring to yourself in third person a la “Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he,” type, much? Whoa. “Stop me if you can.” Mr. Panchal King yells “Attack!” An arrow flies, Bhishm stops it in his hands, breaking the arrow. Behind him, the Hastinapur Army streams in from the gates. Mr. Panchal King tries to kill him by sleuth when he’s picking up his useless Prince. This guy smoothly disarms him and slaps him in the face for good measure. Mr. Panchal King, pissed, gives a shraap. “Bhishm! You will pay for what you did. The cause of your death will be born here in Panchal!” Bhishm just gives a look as he leaves.

Camera focuses on psycho Princess #1, psycho lady #2. Amba. I dunno why, for some reason, this adaptation is showing too many women as psychotic. Canon fail #5. Neither Amba nor Satyavati are this psychotic.  Then follows a cringey love scene b/w Amba and Shalva. Before which the maiden sets fires to fields, and probably to her men also. Scene change. Camera pans to pathetic Vichitraveerya, who’s getting a lecture on the ills of alcoholism and the strength expected in a Crown Prince. He’s pleading for mercy as Bhishm easily manhandles him all over an arena, finally falling at his mama’s feet. Psycho mama fusses over her stupid kiddo. She scolds Bhishm for disciplining her son who had after all, only humiliated an enemy. Canon note: Was Panchal really Hastina’s enemy back then? Dunno. Bhishm is like “He’s a crown Prince. He cannot be weak.” Right, bro. Psycho mum: “You are his strength.” Followed by “A King’s body is like a golden chalice.” Bhishm nods. “But for the chalice to attain respect, it should be at the pinnacle of a temple. I only wish for Vichitraveerya to be like father, his name to be taken with respect in the people’s voice.” Rational, really. But psycho mama is having none of that, as she clutches her drunk and staggering kid close. And..skip. Because Krishna Gyaan. Wait, let’s at least know the theme of the lecture, yes? It’s about the duty of parents. Alright. Skip again. Precap: The Kashi Princesses are having a Swayamvar. Psycho princess is making eyes at Shalva. On the other side, Satyavati is asking Bhishma to bring the 3 princesses of Kashi to Hastina as brides for her drunk kid.

tagging @starsailororastronaut @butchcaroldanvers, @walburgablack, @iamnotthat because you guys seemed to like the first post.

[melynen]

No One Flirts Like James Bond - 00Q

((Written for MI6 Cafe’s anon prompt gift exchange, week 2. I never would have written this fic if it wasn’t for this challenge.))

It is nothing new to them - or anyone around them, for that matter - to have M call them in to talk about what she deems ’improper conduct’ on the comms.

What amounts to improper varies from day to day, but more often than not, it’s about Bond propositioning Q in colourful detail, and Q (more or less) politely reminding him that he ought to focus on the mission, not pursuing his Quartermaster. Or, when it’s late and neither of them has slept for a long while, it’s about random, non-mission related topics like books or Bond telling him stories from his time in the Navy.

On one memorable occasion, it was a discussion about their favourite Disney movies, during which Q admitted to loving Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Delighted, Bond had immediately taken to calling him a princess or my lady for the rest of the mission. He still calls him that every once in a while, much to the amusement of his minions and Q’s own embarrassment, and Q is completely unable to get him to stop.

(Secretly, however, he doesn’t mind it quite as much as he claims.)

Getting summoned to see Headmistress McGonagall, Bond had called it once, in full view of the whole Q Branch. Q had snickered, Bond had looked unbearably smug, and the name had stuck.

So now, whenever M wants to see them, everyone knows to tell them that they’re expected at the Headmistress’s office. Q would much rather they didn’t, but unfortunately for him no one asked for his input.

No one ever does when it comes to these things.

And no, Q is not bitter. He’s not. He gets it, Bond’s the double oh with the reputation and the licence to kill, neither of which he shows any shame in demonstrating when necessary. Or, as it happens from time to time, when not exactly necessary.

So Q sighs but keeps his silence, and goes to see M when requested, and listens to Bond alternate between humorous quips and clearly false excuses, and nods solemnly when M tells them that she expects better from them - “Especially you, Quartermaster!” - in the future. Then he leaves her office with Bond trailing after him like an overgrown duckling, tolerates the arm Bond eventually wraps around his shoulders, and gives Bond something to explode or a prototype to test when it becomes clear that the agent won’t stop bloody following him around otherwise.

Q gets data from Bond to analyse either way, so it’s not exactly a hardship to give in to the subtle manipulation he knows the man capable of using; and as it also gives him back his privacy, he feels it’s an adequate deal.

It goes on like this until that one day when it doesn’t.

*

It starts as a normal post-mission bright and early morning at Six. Q arrives relatively late - for him, that is - after half past eight, goes to get himself a cup of tea, and gets intercepted on his way to his office by none other than Bond.

“Good morning, Q,” Bond greets him, looking far more chipper than Q feels that he ought to, after what had been a gruelling ten-day mission in Georgia followed by a long international flight.

“Good morning, 007,” he says. ”I didn’t expect to see you quite this soon.”

“What can I say, I missed you,” Bond smiles and lets his gaze move up and down Q’s body in clear appreciation.

“Well, I did not miss you,” Q lies as he rolls his eyes at the blatant way Bond eyes him. Sadly, that is nothing new in Bond’s ongoing quest to drive his Quartermaster spare by flirting with him, either, so Q has mostly gotten used to it.

“That hurts,” Bond says, looking at Q with those big blue eyes of his. “I was really looking forward to seeing you again.”

Q hides his sigh behind his mug of tea and takes a fortifying sip. “I assume you have your kit with you?” he says.

Bond nods. “I do.”

Q is about to tell him to follow him into his office when he sees R approaching them. He doesn’t exactly need her telling them that the Headmistress is expecting them, as lately it had happened like clockwork after practically every single mission he’d been Bond’s handler, so he simply nods at her.

“007, leave your kit to R,” he tells Bond instead, and waits for the man to do so before heading towards the lifts and expecting Bond to follow him. Bond does, and he keeps staring at Q the whole journey to M’s office. Q tries his best to appear unfazed, but he cannot deny feeling relieved once they reach their destination and are asked to go in.

Q takes his place on one of the chairs in front of M’s desk and hears Bond do the same next to him. He doesn’t look at him, however, instead keeps his eyes trained on M, whose expression is perfectly unreadable.

Q admits to himself - only to himself - that he has a bad feeling about this.

“Q. 007,” M says flatly.

“Yes, Ma’am?” Q asks.

“You’re aware of why I asked you here.” It’s not a question but a statement, and neither Q nor Bond even thinks about reacting to it in any way.

“I have read the mission transcript, and while I had been expecting something, it sure as hell wasn’t this.”

Q blinks and, despite his better judgment, glances at Bond questioningly. There’s a hint of a smile playing about the man’s lips, and Q frowns lightly at that. Bond, however, is not looking at him but at M.

“I can see that Q is still confused. Shall I refresh your memory?” M continues and pulls out a sheet of paper, setting it in front of them. Q blinks again and looks down at the page.

➡️➡️➡️Q: Do you have the data? 007: Yes, Q, I have it. A bit busy right now, though. (sound of gunfire, followed by rapid typing and a bit of unintelligible muttering) Q: 007, there’s a hidden door on your left. I’m opening it in thirty seconds, and you’ll have no more than a minute to get to the other end of the corridor. 007: Acknowledged. Q? Q: 007? 007: Marry me? (silence) 007: Traditionally, when one is asked a question, one tends to reply to it. Q: Bond! Stop bloody joking around and focus! 007: Still waiting, here. Q: Traditionally, when one is asked such a question, one has previously engaged in something called dating with the person who did the asking. 007: I have asked you out. Several times. You keep telling me no. I thought I’d go all out. Q: 007, we’re not having this conversation right now. The door opens in ten seconds. 007: If not now, when? Q: Five seconds! 007: At least promise me you’ll consider it? I won’t move a muscle unless you say yes. Q: Bond! 007: Q. Q: … I promise. Will you now bloody move? 007: With pleasure.⬅️⬅️⬅️

Q finishes reading the underlined and highlighted lines of the transcript and feels himself blushing to the very tips of his ears. He’d forgotten about this particular bit of conversation, but now he remembers it. He remembers having made a threat of his own to Bond, afterwards, when the man had returned to his hotel room. He also remembers Bond laughing at him, and telling him that he’d come for his answer as soon as the mission was over and he was back on British soil.

Q absolutely refuses to turn his head to see the expression on Bond’s face.

He doesn’t want to look at M, either, but he is no coward. So he looks up at her and keeps his expression carefully blank. (He has a feeling that M still sees right through him, though.)

“What do you have to say for yourself?” M asks, and her gaze is directed at Bond alone. Q feels inexplicably better when he realises this.

Then he gets an idea.

“Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Bond stares. He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Q feels proud at having rendered him speechless.

”What, cat got your tongue, Bond? I thought you wanted me to say yes.”

M looks at him and then at Bond, and starts laughing. There are honest-to-god tears in her eyes, and Q sees Bond colour ever so slightly, especially around the ears.

He likes Bond’s ears, always has. They look even more fetching like this.

Q raises his eyebrows at Bond, as if to say, “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I’m, ah, happy to hear that, Q,” Bond finally manages to say. For some reason, that makes M laugh even harder, and Q cannot stop a grin from forming.

“I’m glad,” he says lightly.

“Well then,” says Bond, slow and steady, “I suppose the only question that remains is whether you’re okay with having the wedding in a week or two, or if you need a bit more time to plan it. And if you prefer a diamond ring or a plain one.”

He also settles a hand on top of Q’s thigh, which causes Q to startle. M has, by now, gotten her laughter under control, and she shakes her head lightly when she sees it. Q swears he sees amusement in her eyes, though.

“I suppose that’s settled, then,” she says, fully professional once more. “I’d tell you not to do it again, but we all know how well that would go. Dismissed.” But before either of them has time to react, she adds, “I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

Then she looks down at the papers before her, and that is a cue for Q and Bond to stand up.

“Come then, princess, I’ll walk you to your castle,” Bond says, and Q flushes in embarrassment (for having M read about Bond calling him that is one thing; having her hear him do it is another matter altogether). He wants nothing more than to get away from M’s stare, so he keeps his mouth firmly shut and follows Bond out of her office.

Outside, once the door has closed after them, Bond wraps his arm not around his shoulders but his waist instead, pulling him close. Q lets him. He thinks he’ll let Bond take him out to dinner, as well.

[asterisquebloomed]

Follow Forever

I seen a few of these before, and I thought what with the year ending, perhaps this was a good idea to do in commemoration of these past two years. I know I haven’t been the most active of RP partners. I’m really slow and my motivation is fickle, but I love RPing, I love writing, and I’ll never give it up, it brings me so much joy writing with everyone. So in honor of all that has happened, and as wish for more to come, here are some words of gratitude to some of my partners, friends, and mutuals.

@breakingreality

Avo, where do I even start with you? Oh I know, that you’re fucking amazing? Is that a good place to start? It better be, because here we go.

You are my best friend out of all the people I’ve met here in these last two years. I love talking to you, gushing about our characters, scheming and plotting future threads, teasing you with unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries, teasing you in general really, and just talking about whatever may cross my mind at the time. You’re easy to talk to, easy to get along with, and super friendly. I’m so happy to have met you and made friends with you, you have no idea. I’ll fucking fight anyone who dares talk shit about you. You’re understanding, smart, clever as fuck, and are one of the most enjoyable people to talk to. You’re a great writer, a great creator, and an even greater friend. I look forward to talking to you and I thoroughly enjoy your company. I don’t think you’ve ever once pissed me off, which is amazing because I have the shortest fucking temper ever. I wholeheartedly appreciate you and everything we’ve done thus far. If you ever need someone to talk to, to vent to, to confide in, whatever, I’m here for you. So if you ever feel lonely, or unwanted, or like you’re being ignored, come talk to me, cause I’ll never ignore you.

On that note, let’s turn our attention towards the RP side of things shall we? You’re an amazing writer, a wonderful RP partner, and your character are great. Like I love Eli, she’s fucking fantastic. Her sassy attitude, her impulsive nature, her quirky habits (Please don’t eat frozen steak Eli) and just all the intricacies and nuances, every single thing about her is great. A girl forced to grow up too fast, a child forced to face her mortality before she even got a chance to live. So when faced with two options, to die sad and alone without ever having had a chance to truly enjoy all that life has to offer, or to live by forsaking her humanity, the choice was obvious. She gave herself to the darkness, embraced being a monster, all for that chance. A chance to experience, to enjoy, to live.  I’m sure most of us would make the same choice if we were faced with such a dismal situation.

Eli is amazingly written, you bring her to life in a way most could only hope to achieve. Her reactions are organic and visceral. She’s such an emotional girl, as much as she tries to hide it behind that stoic facade of hers. Her emotions are so raw and powerful that they sway the reader to feel along with her. To feel her fury as she fights against those who have done terrible things to her or those she loves, to feel her happiness however short lived it tends to be, and to feel her sorrow, the deep, bitter sorrow that seems to constantly plague her very existence. She can never seem to escape it. The abuse, the torment, the manipulation, all the suffering she goes through, that leads her to the edge, and when presented with it, she jumps. She leaps into circumstances she never fully understood, dives into a dark and twisted world, one full of horrific tragedy. Before she knows it and before she’s even aware, she’s lost her humanity. She’s become a monster, not only in name, but in nature as well. She’s become the demon those nuns claimed her to be, and she murders her tormentors for the things they have done to her. She gets taken in by a morally questionable individual and is put to work as an assassin, forced to kill people who are the same as she once was, humans who became monsters and lost control. She’s forced to essentially kill herself, over and over again. She’s been isolated her entire life. Made to mistrust others, to be distant, to be cold, to be uncaring.

And then she meets a girl, a special girl who accepts her for what she is. A girl who, while initially afraid of the truth that was revealed to her, overcomes that fear, because what you are doesn’t matter, it’s who you are that is important. She accepts her, refuses to let her go, and swears to never abandon her. For probably the first time in Eli’s whole life, she has a friend. Someone who truly cares about her and enjoys her presence. It’s no wonder she fell in love is it?

But like all things in this poor girl’s life, it’s fated to end in tragedy.

Listen, I love Eli, she’s a great character, she’s compelling, nuanced, and with so much depth, of both emotion and personality. She’s conflicted, she struggles, she has ups and downs, she feels and wants, she’s both silly and serious. She’s like a real person. She’s not just one thing, but many things, all blended together to create a single individual, just like we are.

You’ve done an absolutely fantastic job writing this girl. You should take pride in what you’ve done, because you’ve created an amazing character here.

I adore her relationship with Ivalinne and Reiko. They’re such stark contrasts to each other, such different dynamics, and the conflict between the three is great.

Which brings me to threads, I’ve loved every single one, and I have SO many ideas for more. I’ve got so many plans and schemes and plots in my head that I have yet to spring on you since I don’t want to overwhelm you, and I hope we’ll get to explore each and every one of them. I can’t wait!

You are probably the biggest fan of everything I do. You support me in my endeavors and are always cheering me on, and I thank you for that, I really appreciate your support, how much you enjoy my stories and characters, it makes me so incredibly happy. You’re probably the biggest fan of Ivalinne’s story, and by far the most vocal. I hope you’ll continue to partake in my stories as I tell them, I’d love to have you along for the ride.

Have I heaped enough praise on you yet? I could probably go on for hours about how amazing you are, so in the interest of not making this post even longer than it already is, I’ll stop here.

Avo, you’re great is all aspects, and I hope we continue to write together for as long as is possible. I look forward to the coming year and all the wonderful threads we’ll surely write together in 2020.

@intrinsicmirage

Aster, you’re such an amazing writer. Your narration is beautiful, I love the way it flows and how poetic it is. It’s a pleasure to read the things you write and a joy to see you on the dash.

You are a creative force, your ideas and concepts are awe-inspiring. The lore you’ve crafted is so interesting and well thought out, from the Coils to the Shroud, to the various species you’ve made all from scratch. You have an amazing mind and I love seeing what you come up with. Your characters are compelling, interesting, and in some cases downright terrifying. S9 is a fearsome being, an ancient god risen from the dead yearning for the power they once had and more, intent to make the universe bend to their will and take all they can get.

Syn is great. A woman struggling with her past and trying to find meaning, going from a materialistic, greedy mercenary whose focus rested solely on the wealth and possessions she could gain, to her confronting her past and taking on the trials of the Coils. She’s so haunted by her pasts traumas that in the past she couldn’t bear to speak of them, and to confront them head on took a lot of courage. She comes out triumphant and sees the world in a new light, making her realize just how pointless her treasure trove of amassed wealth is, and that there’s something much more important than money and material things. She takes her future into her own hands, reshapes herself and takes control of her own identity, giving herself a new name, one that she chose for herself, one that wasn’t given to her by someone else. It was hers and hers alone. Now known as Malam’schir, she sets her sights far higher than she once did as Syn, seeking to tear down a corrupted system of power where the strong reign supreme. All that she willingly puts herself through and endures for that goal, it’s admirable. She’s done a lot of horrible things throughout her life. She’s never been what one would consider selfless, in fact, she’s been the opposite, and for someone like that to, in the end, work towards helping the weak who are trapped under the heel of corrupt monarchies and corporations who hold an iron grip on the planets and systems in the galaxy, that is some amazing character development.

I think it really is amazing when a writer can make you feel for a character that isn’t morally sound and who is either grey, or downright evil. It takes a lot of skill to get the audience to invest in and sympathize with a character who isn’t an obvious hero. To have the reader root for someone who has killed countless people without a second thought, who lies and steals and does whatever it takes to achieve their goals, that in my opinion is a true sign of a skilled writer.

And you’ve done exactly that. I find myself wanting Malam’schir to succeed, cheering her on even when full well knowing that during the Lifeforce Coil she’s systematically torturing and murdering people to gain a better understanding of how that energy works before assimilating the lifeforce of those she’s killed into her own to bolster herself for the journey ahead. How detrimental this act becomes to her, as all the memories and personalities of all those she’s absorbed blend together. The gambles she takes as she descends into the Nine Hells and the risk all of this poses to her, not just physically, but on a fundamental level. The question of ‘is she still herself’ when all of those personalities merge and intermingle. What is truly her and what is inherited from all the souls she’s consumed. It’s fascinating and I can’t wait to see how it all turns out.

You’ve done an excellent job with your characters. They really feel like actual people, not mere concepts, but individuals with a will all their own. You bring them to life in such a spectacular way and it’s an honor to be able to write with you.

As a creator, I look up to you. You inspire me to go further and deeper, to explore beyond the world I created and reach out into the universe in which it exists. To explore my concepts on a cosmic scale rather than on a planetary one, and I thank you for that.

You’re a great friend, easy to talk to, fun to bounce ideas off of, and just an overall welcoming person. I’m glad to have met you and it makes me so happy that we’re friends. We’ve been mutuals since almost the beginning, sometime in March of 2018 or so, over the course of so many URL changes that I had to give you your own tag just to keep track of them all, and it’s been wonderful having you along for the ride. Thank you for your support through these years and for your continued interest in what I do.

I absolutely adore our ship and have so many ideas for what is to come for Reiko and Syn/Mala. Despite them both being terrible people, their relationship is so pure and beautiful. A love without expectations, one that doesn’t judge or hold the other to some sort of standard or code of conduct. A love with no burdens, but just simply being there with one another, enjoying the moment and each other’s presence. It’s so wonderful and I love every instance of it. Such rich emotion and such a profound love, even though both believe themselves unfit for love and unworthy of being loved. For such dangerous beings which such questionable morality, they are so sweet together. The fact that these two, who are ultimately very selfish individuals, would do anything to protect the other—even if it cost them their very lives—is so beautiful, it touches my heart.

I look forward to what is to come in the new year and hope to continue writing with such a wonderful writer for as long as I can, and I hope you too, feel the same way.

@sisterofthedevil​ / @cruentusscarlet​ / And more

Flan, you’re the reason I’m here in the first place. You were the first person I reached out to when I decided to come back here and enter the RP community. It was due to you that I got to join that first discord server, the first one I was ever in. It’s my home and I treasure it so much, so much so that even if that server is slowly declining, I’ll never leave it, because it’s the first place I got to call my home on discord. All of the friends I’ve made, all of them are thanks to that first step. If it wasn’t for you I might not have been able to make my place here. I’m so grateful for that. Even if we don’t talk much, I still consider you a good friend. And that’s not to mention how great of an RP partner you are.

Reiko and Flandre’s thread is one of my favorite threads I’ve had to date. I’ve loved every moment of it, it’s been such an intense roller coaster of emotions, and it’s probably the only thread where all of Reiko has been on full display. I hope going forward into 2020 that we can continue to write together.

You’re a great writer with such a unique style. Each one of your muses is fleshed out with intricate details and is a different spin on things, What with Flan having accidentally killed her sister and become the new mistress of the manor. Remilia embracing the role of being a terrifying monster and doing horrible things without batting an eyelash. Parsee being trapped not only emotionally and mentally, but spiritually and physically as well, unable to leave the bridge and be free. Satori, despite the horrors she’s witnessed, does not just follow suit to her species. You’ve given attention to every little detail, from the placement of her veins to the way she would have to put clothes on to accommodate them to the lasting effects of being able to read minds and bring other’s traumas to the surface. Alice is such a unique take on her as Shinki’s daughter, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything similar in regards to Alice’s origins and it’s amazing.

Each one of your muses shows how much thought you put into the characters you play and how dedicated you are to them. All of their trauma is very much real, and you portray it so well. There is never an easy fix to such problems, and you’ve done their struggles justice and shown just how hard it is to live with things like loss and abuse. Never does it feel like their trauma is overlooked or minimized, and their struggles with their demons and all the torment they’ve endured is very real, and how each one of them deals with their trauma in a different way shows such deep understanding of how different people react to things differently and everyone has their own way of coping.

I hope going into the next year that we’ll continue to RP together, there’s so much more I want to see and explore with your muses. You’re a great person, and I wish you all the best for the coming year.

@catacombofsouls​

Lina, we’ve only become mutuals rather recently compared to most on this list, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking with you over these past months. It’s great to have someone to scream about The Case Study of Vanitas and Pandora Hearts with. You’re friendly and easy to talk to, and you’re always up for whatever ideas I come up with, or happen to mention. Really, you’re a very kind person and I enjoy your company. I hope going forward we’ll continue to be friends and RP partners for the foreseeable future.

I know with my recent lack of motivation that our threads haven’t gotten very far. With any luck, I’ll be able to regain my motivation and write more frequently. You have so many muses I want to interact with, particularly your OCs. Light is a very interesting character and I want to interact with her at some point in the future. I have quite a few ideas, but I don’t want to overwhelm you or myself for that matter, so once I get our threads going again and I’m not in draft hell, I’ll come to you with some even more fucking up ideas!

Thank you for reading Ivalinne’s story! I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll stick around for the stories to come! I’m glad you like my characters and I hope you’ll continue to enjoy what I create going forward.

@mayohigan-orange​​ / @witchwaltzing​

Cobalt, I know you don’t think you’re a good writer and all, but you really are. You’re not only fun to RP with, but fun to talk to as well.

Reiko and Chen’s interactions have been a wild ride, and a highly amusing one at that. Chen has such a feisty personality and she’s not afraid to speak her mind, or to even cuss someone out, regardless of who they are. Though that seems to get her in trouble more often than not. Between her picking fights with all the wrong people, and her devotion to those she cares about, Chen is joy to have around. Even with Ivalinne, who she hardly knows, she’s promised to keep her safe and she won’t betray her word. She’s an admirable little kitten who tries her best. She’s still very childish and her lack of worldly experience shows with just how easily Reiko has been able to get things to go her way, which still astounds me since that’s entirely unplotted and we just go with the flow with our threads.

At first glance, your Chen appears to be just the cute cat often seen in fanon, but once you get to know her, you see that there’s more to her than just that. You’ve developed her character and given her depth. Her eagerness to prove herself, to live up to her Master’s name and legacy, how desperate she is to do so despite the risks. How protective she is of those close to her, and even those she’s only recently met. She’s a good girl with a strong heart and even stronger convictions, and how passionate she is shows in not only her words, but her actions as well.

You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a great writer, and a fun RP partner who pushes themselves to do more. I seem to recall you not being too confident in fight threads, but here you are, writing one with me and doing it spectacularly. You’re dependable and reliable, probably one of the most reliable RP partners I’ve had the pleasure of writing with. You’ve never once dropped one of our threads, even though we have so many, and that’s something I greatly respect.

You’re a good friend. You’re easy to get along with, and you’re so casual and friendly, joking around and just overall are an enjoyable presence to have around. It makes me happy that you were so enthusiastic about Ivalinne’s story, to the point of wanting to change the ending. To have someone be so invested in something I wrote is amazing. I’ve done my job as a writer if I’ve made the reader feel for my characters and root for them, and I’m so glad you enjoyed it so much. Thank you for your support and your continued patronage, I hope you’ll continue to read my stories and continue to RP with me moving forwards into the coming year. Don’t doubt yourself, you’re a good writer, and I’m sure you’ll only get better as you go.

@soulwitch / @volatilepaths

Kako, you’re really just amazing on all fronts. You’re a great supportive friend, a calm voice of reason, and a wonderful and dedicated writer. You put so much of yourself into everything you do. You’re always there to help anyone who needs it, always willing to give advice and be there for those who are having a tough time, it’s really awe-inspiring just how much you give to not only the community as a whole, but to everyone you interact with. I know I’m frustrating to deal with at times, but you never give up on me, and I really appreciate that. So many others would have just been done with me, they wouldn’t have tried to work things out and make sure an understanding was reached. I’m really grateful for that. The problems I’ve come to you with, and you’ve helped me work through, I’m grateful for that, truly. You’re so friendly and accommodating, always wanting to make sure your partner is happy and comfortable, and that they’re enjoying how each and every thread goes. The way you put others needs ahead of your own is really admirable. You’re a great person, and you deserve all the best, really.

You writing is great, and your characters are amazing. You’re not afraid to delve into some really dark topics and that, in my opinion, takes a lot of courage. Jeanne is absolutely terrifying, through and through. She’s a great villain and a force to be reckoned with. A woman so utterly broken by all she’s been through that she’s become such a monster, one who cares not what evils she commits. She lies, she manipulates, she does whatever it takes to get what she wants, to satiate her desires. She’s a masterpiece of a villain, and I really need to find some way to get to see more of her. Reiko utterly despises her, and wants absolutely nothing to do with the woman, to stay as far away as she can and to keep Jeanne from encroaching upon her. They’ll never be able to get along thanks to Jeanne hitting upon the things she most abhors, so I’ll have to come up with something else, because I do want to interact with Jeanne. I want to see more of her, try to understand her better, she’s a character with a lot of depth, and I want to see more than just the surface.

Which brings me to the Redbellion event. Everything about that was amazing, Kako. From the story, to the interactivity, to the sheer size and the amount of time and thought put into everything. It was great and I’m glad to have been a part of it, even if it was only a small one due to my own anxieties. You were so helpful and accommodating, making sure I who was late to join, was able to get in on the action and feel like I made a difference in the event. I’m proud to have contributed, happy with what I got to do. It was fun reading through the various stories that came from it. I got invested in quite a few things and found my emotions swinging to the tune of your words. The androids that struggled to survive as they were divided between their mother and their nature as synthetic beings, Core who became a terrifying abomination, and Harune, who sacrificed all she held dear just to save this dying galaxy. It was a beautiful story and you did an amazing job bringing to life not just a single world, but an entire galaxy. It’s amazing what you did. You put so much time and effort into the whole thing. The sheer depth of your dedication and devotion is admirable. I could never hope to do something like that, let alone carry it all the way to the end. Your determination is amazing, and you have my deepest respect for your efforts.

You’re someone I look up to, someone I’m glad to know and happy to have the honor to write with. I know I haven’t been the best of RP partners, what with my sporadic activity and my flighty muses and motivation. I’m sorry for that, and I hope that I can do better in the coming year. You’re a great writer, an amazing person, and a wonderful friend, and you deserve all the best in the coming year.

@unhingedsea / @sophisticatedsuccubus / @justthatdamnrich / And more

Ellen, I know we haven’t spoken much recently, but I hope we’re still as close as we were a couple months ago. I miss having you check in on me and message me. I really enjoy your presence and love talking with you. Hearing about your ideas, how you’re branching out into fandomless OCs of your own setting, it makes me excited to see what you create. I hope you’ll bring them to tumblr so that we can interact and I can see more of them.

Your characters are a diverse mix of drastically different personalities. From Wada, who is batshit insane by any measure, to the shy and socially awkward 2pi, to the rage filled Klowni, you have such a varied mixture of characters. I’ve enjoyed the threads that we had, even though they were rather short-lived. I hope we’ll get to RP more in the coming year, I really want to see where things will go, especially with that thread between Reiko and Jo’on.

I know you’ve been struggling lately, feeling like what you’re doing has lost it’s appeal, and that you’ve lost touch with those who you once interacted with frequently, but I don’t think that’s the case. Everyone has been really busy lately for some reason, many people that were once frequent on the dash are active less these days, and it’s sad to see, but I don’t think it’s that they have lost interest in what you do. I for one haven’t, and I never will. You’re a joy to see on the dash and I hope you’ll come back and RP here more. I definitely want you around, and I’m sure others do too. So please, believe in yourself, I’m sure you can do it.

You’re such a great person. So friendly and welcoming, always cheering everyone on. You told me you swore to be that positive light for others, no matter what it takes, and that’s something amazing. Something I would never be able to do. I hope you won’t burn yourself out, because giving so much is a hard thing to do, especially in an unkind world. I hope you don’t give up, that you keep going and striving to be who you want to be. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here for you.

Thank you so much for being such a fan of Ivalinne’s story. When you told me that reading my writing, reading my story, motivated you into writing, I was honored. That my writing could have such a profound effect on someone, it’s unreal. I’m happy you enjoyed it and I hope you’ll continue to read as I write Eliyah’s story and more.

@fxtelism

Dennis, you’re a good friend and I’m grateful to have someone I can confide in about the things I can’t tell anyone else. You’re nice, friendly, and easy to talk to and get along with. I really appreciate your company.

Thanks to tumblr eating the notifications of our threads at every turn, we haven’t made much progress RP wise, but hopefully that will change in the coming year. I want to see more of your characters and get to know them, get more interactions, and develop our muses further. Leon is really sweet and it’s adorable how much of a flustered mess he is, it’s great. Soft boys are good! Manifestation is very interesting, an opposite to the kind and friendly person who he was created from. I’m curious to see where things could go with both of them. If just tumblr would stop eating notifications.

Now then, Ivalinne’s story. Thank you so much for reading. You have no idea how much it means to me. When you were reading and mentioned that one thing, I was so excited to see you get to the end. Having someone realize and notice things really is great. Probably the best feeling I’ve ever felt. I hope you enjoyed her journey and will continue to read the stories I’ll tell in the future, because I’ve got plenty more to tell!

@echointheforest

Marii, you’re a great friend, and thank you for all your support. You’re so welcoming and easy to talk to about literally anything. I never feel awkward talking to you about things, even though I sometimes worry I bother you too much.

ReiMarii is love, ReiMarii is life. I adore our ship. It’s the first ship I’ve ever had, and it’s been amazing. Thank you so much for introducing me to shipping, I’m so grateful for it. Shipping is so much fun, so full of feels, and I love it. I hope shipping with Reiko hasn’t been too angsty for you, it seems that no matter what, everything comes up bittersweet, and I hope that doesn’t upset you. I love how Reiko and Marii are together, it’s adorable. Everyone else only sees the surface, the bitchy exterior that woman presents to the world. and they  write her off as that being all there is to her. But there’s so much more to her than what’s on the surface, and exploring all that lies beneath it with you has been one of the greatest pleasures of this past year. Every interaction has been wonderful, I love every minute of it and I hope we’ll continue to interact more in the coming year.

I know you worry a lot about whether you’re a good RP partner, and while I’ve already said my piece on it to you, I’ll say it again. You’re a great RP partner. You’re in no way a shitty RP partner. You’re a joy to write with and I love interacting with you. Life has been hectic for you recently, but I hope it will calm down, so you don’t have to be so stressed and exhausted all the time. You’re a great person and you deserve the best. I hope we’ll continue to be friends and continue to interact through next year as well.

You’re the first person, and so far the only, to see Reiko’s core. You’ve seen a side of her no one else has experienced. Marii’s touched her heart, reached through the ice and rust and connected with her on a level not even she thought was possible anymore. If things continue the way they’ve been going, she might even end up telling Marii about her past, so I hope we’ll get to explore more and more of their relationship, sink the claws of love deeper into her heart. Maybe Marii can make her realize that being who she is isn’t as bad a thing as she thinks it is, maybe she could help her to accept that she’s not damaged or broken beyond repair. That she’s worth the love the youkai has given her. I want to see it, someone be able to reach her, to tell her it’s fine.

So I hope we’ll continue to write in the coming year, that we’ll continue to develop this tender, beautiful relationship between dark and light, because I’m excited to see where it goes. How deep it will get and how close they’ll become. The future is bright, and hopefully Marii can teach Reiko that as well.

@johnny-writes

Johnny, I know your retirement date is quickly approaching, and I’m sorry I haven’t fulfilled what I promised. I said I’d put priority on our threads, but I failed to deliver, and I apologize for that. I wish we could have had more threads, that I had met you sooner so we could have done more. It saddens me that soon, we won’t get to write together anymore. I’m going to miss you as an RP partner. I hope we can continue to be friends though, even if you’ll be leaving the RP community.

I know Mara and Tojava weren’t exactly planned characters for you. They were created from a meme and it all started from there. I like both of them, the concepts and tropes they’re meant to explore. I was looking forward to you writing their story, and though you got derailed during NaNoWriMo, I hope you’ll continue to work towards the completion of their tale.

The thread between Reiko and Mara was a very interesting one. I’m sorry my bitch of a muse made Mara cry, she didn’t deserve that at all and I still feel bad about it, but I enjoyed the thread nonetheless. Feels are fun, no matter what form they come in. The thread between Ivalinne and Kazuma was fun too, it’s a shame it won’t get to continue to the ending I had planned. It would have been a chance to show Ivalinne is more clever than most probably assume due to how most of her threads have gone. It’s a shame it will never come to pass.

Speaking of Ivalinne, thank you for reading her story! I appreciate your interest. When you told me you got hooked after the first two parts, I was overjoyed. I’m glad you liked it, and I hope you’ll continue to read Eliyah’s story as I write it.

You’re a good friend, a logical voice of reason, and I’m grateful for that. I know I’m not always the most reasonable person out there, but it really helps when there’s someone that can talk some sense into me. Thank you for your support this past year. I’ll miss having you around on the dash, sending asks in to my characters and I’ll miss seeing your characters around. But just because they aren’t around doesn’t mean that they don’t exist anymore. I look forward to seeing the story you tell with them, and I wish you all the luck with your plans for the future.

@geisthonoredferry

Koma, we’ve only met recently, but honestly you’re great. You’re so supportive of everyone, what with your little handwritten notes to people and all the positivity you spread, you’re a great influence on this community. This place needs lights like you, people that care about others and support them no matter what. You’re a blessing and I’m happy to call you my friend.

I hope in the coming year that we’ll be able to get some more interactions going. My motivation to write has been very low recently, and I’ve been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of drafts I have, but I’m not gonna give up! I’m going to reply to everything and keep moving forward.

Thank you for reading Ivalinne’s story, I’m glad you liked it and I hope that you’ll continue to read the things I put out and enjoy them all the same.

I really appreciate how much you care, how you check in on me to see how I’m doing, how you send positive little messages in the server and how you’re always doing your best to spread that cheer. You’re great, really. As both a writer and a friend. Though you should really stop lying to people and saying I’m cute. You’re the cute one here, not me.

@weaverstale / @draconianmyths

Kirbs, you’re great, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re so caring and compassionate, always concerned for everyone else and supporting them with positivity. Thank you for your support. I do appreciate it, really, even if I believe myself unworthy, it does make my day better. Don’t ever stop being that way.

We’ve both been low on writing motivation lately, and that really sucks. I want to RP more with you. Orochi is very interesting, and my dumb thot of a muse can’t resist an attractive man. Or an attractive women, as Konoe proves. She really just can’t resist attractive people in general really. I hope going into the next year that we’ll be able to have more threads and interactions.

You’re a good friend and you’re easy to talk to. I know at times our...interests in conversation topics just don’t always match, I apologize for that. I am but a shy nervous bean, naive and innocent about such topics. Regardless, I do enjoy talking to you, and I hope we’ll continue to be friends in the future.

@magicaldreaming​

Xana, I know we’ve only become mutuals recently, but I’ve really enjoyed speaking with you. I love hearing about your OCs, it’s fascinating. You’re easy to talk to and really chill, and I appreciate that. I hope we’ll continue to talk and be friends in the coming year.

As for RPs, you’re an amazing writer with some amazing muses. Krolia was one of the first I seen, through your threads with another blog I follow. Krolia immediately caught my eye, she’s very strange in a curious and interesting way. She’s an ancient being with a love for modern technology, idol music, and junk food, and it’s adorable.I really want to have a thread with her someday, once I manage to get my draft situation under control. I hope to see more of her, she’s really interesting.

But probably my favorite muse of yours currently is Celia. I read along with her threads in Redbellion, and honestly, they were my favorite. I love her journey throughout the event, going from an emotionless killing machine intent to cleanse all biological life from the universe, to realizing the true beauty of life, and realizing she had set in motion the destruction of an entire galaxy full of it. How she fought so desperately as the end of all was looming over her, how much she regretted what she had done, and how badly she wished to right the wrongs she committed. How she gave her all to save people. to protect them from the menace she had unleashed, and how she gave her life, her light, in order to save everyone. The woman that once sought to exterminate all life sacrificed her own to save what remained, and that is beautiful. I teared up when she started to fade into slumber and go dormant. You did an amazing job building up her character and her development was spectacular. I look forward to see where she goes from here, now that her outlook on the world has so drastically changed. With any luck, I’ll regain my motivation and be able to see that hope through with our thread!

All in all, you’re a great writer, never doubt your talent. It really shows a writer’s skill when they make you feel for and root for an evil character. That’s so much harder to accomplish than simply having the reader side with the hero. Any writer that can do that has my respect, just as you do.

@fragmentedsilhouette

Sage, I know you’re not really on tumblr much anymore, but I’m going to list you here anyways. You’re a good friend, calm, easy to talk to, and your company is enjoyable. I should really talk to you more.

I miss seeing Amaeris on the dash, she really was a great character. Well thought out and of questionable moral standing (Wait a second most of the characters I’ve spoken of here have been that way...Do I have a thing for that type?!) A shadow of her former self, literally. A deceased ruler of an ancient empire aiming to regain her former glory and rebuild her kingdom anew, so that she may reclaim what she had in life. You put a lot of thought into her and I wanted to see where she would go, if she’d ever be able to take back what was taken from her.

I hope one day we can write together again. The brief instances when we did were enjoyable. Maybe sometime next year? Who knows, but one can hope!

@moonternity

Lilli, we may have never gotten to RP on tumblr, and we might not have RPed all that much in general, but I think you deserve to be mentioned here as well.

When we first met two years ago, you hated my guts and told me straight out. I admired that honesty, since honesty is something I value. You gained my respect by being so honest about your feelings. I wanted to be friends with such an honest person, someone who wouldn’t lie to me and who’d tell me flat out if I fucked up. So I wanted to win you over, and as you know, I did, and that made me so happy.

I’m glad to be your friend. Happy that you want me around. It means a lot to me, truly. I enjoy your company, the fun we’ve had with the campaign, and even just talking to you. Thank you for being my friend, for giving me my first D&D experience, and for just being you.

---

And thank you to all my followers, both on the RP Side Blog where I actually do all of my writing and to all the followers here, whether you’ve just followed the wrong blog or not! Thank you for your support! I hope I can continue to write more and more in the years to come!

Happy New Year to you all!

[samotchkaficrecs]

My Hero Academia Fic Recs! #1

Hola!

i’m finally making an actual mha fic post... yay!

since most of these fics are suited to my fanfiction tastes i will be making another in the future with many different ships (to float anyone’s boat). 

[Also if there is a star (★) next to any fic, it’s one of my highly recommended]

Anywhoo, let us begin! 

TodoDeku

before the world catches up  by -  silent_academy (white_silence) 

Shouto was promised the world when he was born. Unfortunately, fate isn't kind, and he's left with nothing but a broken heart and blazing scars.

Izuku was never "destined" for greatness, but he was sure as hell going to make his mark on the world. With determination and a will to protect, he sets out on the hero's path.

Or, the one in which Shouto is born Quirkless, and Izuku... is not.

Somehow, things work out anyway.

(currently on hiatus)

 ★ The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto  by -  crispykrimi

He clasps his hands together and presses them to his forehead. “Please teach me how to seduce someone!”

What follows is the most awkward fifteen minutes of his short life. His friends volley suggestions at him, everything from suggestive comments to practically crawling into Shouto’s lap and kissing him. His head is starting to feel a little fuzzy when someone (goddamnit Kirishima) suggests a strip tease, and really, he has to draw the line somewhere.

“A-ah… Maybe seduce was too strong a word. I don’t know if I could actually do any of those things… I think a better word would be- woo? I want to woo him. P-please teach me how to woo someone.”

(complete)

★  If I'm Being Honest....  by -  I_dont_know_man 

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

(complete)

i feel your warmth, and it feels like home  by -  orphan_account 

The five times where Shouto remembers that Midoriya is more buff than he lets on.

(alternatively titled the-one-where-shouto-internally-nosebleeds-and-tries-to-act-casual)

(complete)

Trust Fall  by -  Esselle 

' "So, on my signal then."

Midoriya laughs. "No signal. You just fall, and I catch."

"What?" Shouto asks. "But how will you know? What if you're not ready? What if—"

"It's about trust, Todoroki-kun," Midoriya says. Shouto can't see his face, but he senses there's a grin on it. "Do you trust me?" '

(complete)

KiriBaku 

Can't Hear the Fireworks of Your Art  by -  cereal_whore   

Bakugou's hearing is slowly deteriorating due to being in close proximity of his quirk, and his constant usage of it. After a visit to the doctors, it's concluded they can never reverse his hearing.

Everyone else: hol y sh ti hes dying (excluding Shinsou, who's too tired to care anymore and is at peace with the idea of Bakugou being the local cryptic)

Or: Bakugou literally disappears for one day, and everyone suddenly thinks he's dying even tho he just rlly needs a hearing aid. none of these hormonal teenagers have basic communication skills. Todoroki is also really trying his best in spite of Bakugou continuously calling him "Canadian Flag Fucker".

(ongoing)

kiss me on the lips  by -  Lulatic

“So, you’ve really never kissed anyone? Really?”

“No, okay? You fucking happy now? What does it even matter--”

“Would you like to?”

(complete)

★ The Beauty of a Beast  by -  starofjems 

Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast.

Or

The beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

(complete)

Ghost Hunters  by -  PoutyBats

“What, like a ghost sex hotline?” Sero snorts.

“I mean, she was kinda cute-”

“I swear on my life if you don’t shut up I can guarantee that there will be three new ghosts in this house come morning!” Bakugou rubs his temples, aging by the minute.

-

Kirishima, Bakugou, Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero are part of a ghost hunting squad.

[kiribaku isn’t really the main focus, but it’s here anyways]

(complete)

Love Potion No. 9  by -  I_dont_know_man

"It's alright bro, I get it. Not everybody can handle all this pure manliness." Kirishima flexed a hardened bicep facetiously, grinning like the idiot he most certainly was.

...

And Bakugou - Bakugou blushed.

For the mere second time in 17 years of life, no less, and he was pretty sure that blushing over accidentally calling All Might ‘dad’ that one time didn’t count. Bakugou was an aloof, detached, analytical sort of person. Bakugou didn’t fucking blush, alright?

Just what in the ever-loving fuck was going on here?!

In which Bakugou finds himself victim of a love spell, Kirishima tries his Best, and the entirety of Class 1A waits for the other shoe to drop.

(ongoing)

Multi/ Misc/ Minor Ship 

★ Blue Monday  by -  Adox    [multi]

Eight years ago, three boys went missing, only remembered by their disappearance. Unless you’re Izuku Midorya. After his (arguably) best friend Katsuki Bakugou vanished, he’s been searching. Hoping. Even after the investigation was closed. Three names ring clearly in his head.

Eijiro Kirishima.

Denki Kaminari.

Katsuki Bakugo.

Jiro loves her new family, they’re the only fosters who seem to give a shit. However, she can’t help but notice the picture frames turned on their side, and the child’s bedroom that hasn’t been touched in years.

Todoroki just wants to help his new friend, even if that means endangering his many, many scholarships.

And Bakugo waits.

(ongoing)

Karma in Retrograde  by -  Mistystarshine, ohmytheon    [misc]

When Dabi is struck by a de-aging quirk that regresses him to the most influential part of his life, he finds himself turned back into a sixteen-year-old U.A. General Studies student with lots of self-esteem issues, parent problems, a destructive quirk that he can't manage, and no memory of the years that he's lost - not to mention the fact that his little brother is now the same age as him and one of the top students in the U.A. hero course. In U.A.'s attempt to make up for what they missed and help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with the only students that know him and have yet to find out what truly makes the difference between a hero and a villain. There, they must face the question of whether he can change or his destiny is already set in stone.

(ongoing)

A Night to Remember  by -  hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)    [multi]

“Huh?” Izuku narrows his eyes and looks at the poster. It doesn’t make sense when he first reads the words, when they first roll off his tongue. “‘Yuuei High School’s 24th Annual Future Heroes Gala’? What... is this?” He feels like he should know, but he can’t think straight after staying up so late last night.

“Well.” Kirishima grins. “When I saw the poster, I texted Amajiki-senpai and he told me all about it.”

There’s something particularly mischievous in his smile that has Izuku worried.

“Long answer, it’s pretty much the only school dance Yuuei has and it’s third-years only,” Kirishima continues, “It’s supposed to be a celebration of everything we’ve done over the past three years, so it’s super fancy and formal and there’s slow dancing and and stuff like that -”

“Short answer, it’s hero prom!” Hagakure interrupts, barely getting the words out before at least four people erupt into cheers.

(complete)

★ I want to kiss (your dumb fucking face)  by -  gingerbreadshinsou    [shinsou/ monoma] 

Monoma develops a big gay crush on Shinsou from afar and his life descends into absolute chaos

[The Monoma Neito coming-of-age fic absolutely no one asked for]

(ongoing)

[i know i have already put this one on another list, but it’s just so amusing!]

tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef that i'm a vegetarian and i EAT LEAF  by -  hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)    [misc]

“Which one of you fuckers just AirDropped me loss?”

(complete)

★ shock your soul  by -  montparni    [kamisero]

Twelve years of Halloween; or, Kaminari Denki grows up (but not too much), makes some memories, and learns to look right in front of his eyes.

(complete)

Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!  by -  xX_KUUHAKU_Xx    [kamisero]

"I could wear just my boxers and I'd win every round. Now let's play."

---

In which Sero and Kaminari decide to face off on a rock, paper, scissors game with beer and stripping being a part of it.

(complete) 

Thus With a Kiss, I die  by -  DomineeringScarves

Kaminari finds himself head over heels for the newest addition to their class, Shinsou Hitoshi. Normally the flirty blonde would just present himself with open arms but there's a major problem with his infatuation. There's unspoken rules in 1-A and Kaminari is part of the Bakusquad...whereas Shinsou is a part of the Dekusquad. The two can't be together. It's just not possible. There's no way Bakugou would ever allow one of his extras to date Deku's friend.

There's only one thing left to do, give up and move on. Too bad Kaminari can't seem to escape Shinsou.

Aka the fic where Kaminari is Romeo and Shinsou is Juliet and they have to secretly date so their squads don't fall into an all out war.

(complete)

★★★

Aaaand thats a wrap! thanks for viewing and i hope you all found some fics that intrigue you! 

Au revior!   

[gingerbreadbooks2020]

Bookblr post #22

It’s March 31st and I finished Faeries, Elves & Goblins by Rosalind Kerven! Well, I actually finished off today (April 1st) but that was just the notes, so shhh!

[Images above:

Top left: title page for The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. The left page is an illustration of a young woman in a blue dress and white bonnet sitting at an old spinning wheel.

Top right: A double page illustration, a silhouette of three faeries stirring a cauldron. Behind them is a strawberry bush.

Middle left: title page for A Brewery Of Eggshells, from England. The left page is an illustration. Set in a living room, to the left is a young man stood over a fire. In the foreground of the image is a younger boy laying in a cot.

Middle middle: title page for Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. The left page is an illustration of a Faery Queen in a long flowing dress, the ends of which are being held by two faeries in flight. It’s nighttime, and they’re under a tree with small white blossoms.

Middle right: title page for The Magic Ointment, a tale from England. The left page is an illustration of three people stood in a garden with a stone path. In the back of the image is a man and a lady. In the midground is a man in slightly ragged clothes, with a greyish skin tone, and elvish looking ears.

Bottom left:title page for Flying with the Faeries. The left page is an illustration of a landscape. In the distance is a village, and in front of that, closer to the foreground is an orchard. In the foreground is a tree with a large root, open to explore. Inside is a young boy with two women, one of whom has their back to the reader.

Bottom right: title page for the notes section of the book. Under the title ‘Notes’ is a small passage (see later in the post for the passage). The left page is an illustration. The background is an orange sky with some white clouds. The focus of the image is a silhouette of three faeries hanging on to three thin branches which are vertical, hanging down the page. These images are all my own.]

First I read The Good People’s Shawl, from the Isle of Man. In this one I was a bit confused as to who to feel sorry for, I suppose. And that’s not a bad thing, the story’s well written. I think it’s just the purpose of the story, or part of how it’s written anyway. In the story, a woman, tired of spinning wool, hires a maid and leaves for the day, giving the girl an impossible amount of work to do. The girl, knowing she can’t do it all, goes out to the garden to ask help from the faeries. The phynodderee appears, and promises her that, if she says a phrase and leaves for the day it will all be done. When she returns, a group of faeries rush out, and she finds all the wool has been spun, and a shawl has been hung on the curtain rail. The woman returns, angry that the wool had been spun ‘wrong’, and tells the girl she knows that faeries did the work. The woman tries on the shawl but it’s cursed to become coarse and dark. The girl is fired, but when she wears the shawl is softens and gains an earthy colour, obviously blessed for her. I was unsure who to ‘trust’ for a moment as the girl, who has been given work to do, simply doesn’t want to do it. She doesn’t even try to get through it. However, the woman is at fault for leaving her an impossible task, and is then cruel to the girl at the end of the story, so obviously my heart went out to the poor girl.

After that I read A Brewery of Eggshells, from England. A widow has two young boys. The older grows to be stron and fit, and leaves for the army. The younger, however, refuses to even crawl, even at fourteen years of age. He doesn’t speak, it is thought he has some illness, and becomes uglier than he was as a babe. When the older comes back from serving in the war, he proclaims that he knows what the problem is. He empties out an egg, leaving the shell, and fills it with hops and ale, before handing it in a pot over the fire to ‘cook’. Immediately, the younger boy cries out, ‘Ha ha ha!; through twice seven years I’ve lived with you; and seven hundred years before; a soldier brewing beer in an eggshell; is the daftest thing I ever saw!’ The soldier kicked the changeling out of the house, and the widow’s younger son appeared before her, the real one. I’ve heard of changeling stories before, and generally understood the gist, but this was the first I’ve ever actually read.

Next was Thomas the Rhymer, from Scotland. Thomas is one day playing the harp when a beautiful women, the Faery Queen, appears before him, and promises to fulfill any wish he has if he plays another song. His wish is for a kiss. As soon as his lips touch hers, she takes him to Faeryland and makes him her servant. At the end of his duties, as a gift for his excellent work, she gifts him with an enchanted apple, which will make him only speak the truth and allow his heart to know the future. She says if he uses the gift well, she shall allow him back to Faeryland. Thomas forgets the enchantment when he wakes up at the fiel he was found in, eating the apple eagerly. As he can only speak the truth, people think he’s gone mad, and he never finds employment. He finds solace in speaking poems, eventually forseeing the death of the king. The people are amazed at this, calling him a prophet. After this, he’s not seen again, supposedly back in faeryland.

Following this was The Magic Ointment, from England. There are nasty rumours surrounding Betty and Tom, but Old Joan refuses to believe them and stays friendly with the couple. She visits them one day but peers through the keyhole to see Betty putting an ointment on Tom’s eyes. Old Joan is invited in as Tom heads out, but as Betty goes into the pantry to get something, Old Joan sneaks some of the ointment onto her right eye. She begins to see that small cottage for the beauty that it is, with hundreds of spriggans flying about. She finishes the visit acting normally as she can, but when she goes to the market she sees Tom thieving from some stalls. She confronts him, but he blows away the magic from her eye, as well as all vision within it. She cries out for someone to catch him, that he’s a thief, but the people around her call her crazy.

The final story in this book was Flying With The Faeries, from England. A boy, lost in the woods, is led by a bear to a small cottage. Two short and old ladies - faeries - welcome him in, giving him food and a bed to sleep in. At midnight, they wake, placing on white caps and shouting ‘Here’s off’, before flying off into the night. The boy quickly follows, and they find themselves in the wine cellar of a rich man. They drink his wine and become very drunk, but the boy falls asleep in the cellar. He’s confronted by the house staff he next morning, and, after going through trial, is sentenced to hang. At the execution, one of the old faery women approaches, asking him to wear a special white cap. The executioner thinks nothing of this, but as soon as the cap is on the boy’s head, they both cry ‘Here’s off’ and fly off. The faeries are annoyed at the boy for what he did, and he swears he’ll never do it again. Charmed by this, they forgive him and lead him home safely.

All of the stories in this book were so amazing. Of course, I know very little about faeries, elves and goblins, so this book was perfect for me, especially given that it’s about the British Isles!

I read through the notes section, which gives details about each story, where it’s from, how it varies in different places and also how many similar stories have happened to different people. Or perhaps how the stories begins or ends differently. In some places the stories leave out major plot points for minor details as it’s so well known in certain areas, such as the Tam Lin story in Scotland.

It was also nice to know that many stories do in fact come from the area that I live in (Herefordshire - please don’t stalk me!!) as there was a major writer on my area. Not Shakespeare level or anything, but this person noted down many tales from my area so that’s why they’re well-documented! It’s nice as well that I can learn about the faeries in my area and learn how to interact/avoid them if necessary, as I hope to research more into witchcraft and magick and practise the craft! This blog will remain a book blog though, so no worries dear followers. Unless you are a witch - please don’t unfollow!

Regardless, that’s the end of the book! It was so so nice to read! It was easy to just pick up and read a story or two if I have a few spare minutes, as opposed to having to read a chapter but have a running commentary of the plot so far going in my head. I find leaving a book too long means I forget the story so far, so it was nice that I could leave it for a week or so and still be able to enjoy reading it and fully relax with a couple stories - lighthearted or not.

I would definitely recommend this book, whether or not you’re a believer in faeries, whether or not you’re from the British Isles. It’s nice to get to know the country with these little stories which are about small villages in rural areas, as opposed to getting to know Britain through things like the Battle of 1066 or when parliament was formed or whatever.

If I were ever to have children, I reckon I would hold onto this for them. They’re little stories, many quite funny, but they’re not your normal princess story or faery story, so they’d make for a much more interesting bedtime.

- Gingerbread ♤

P.S I think I’ll be reading Macbeth next! But I might change my mind... so much to read!! Aargh!

P.P.S I’m going to keep saying this because it bears repeating: Stay safe!!! Wash your hands! Only go out if absolutely necessary and please limit the number of members from your household that do go out! The amount of cases in the UK is going up, as it is everywhere, so please please please stay inside and flatten the curve! The virus does not care who it infects, and has been proven to be deadly to even young and healthy people. Do not put yourself or anyone else at risk, please! Love to you all in these trying times x