#i think its easy literally just set her back and change town

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hello!! You're probably swamped with asks, but if you have the time and energy, you should do a slow burn Alastor x reader set in the 1920s where the reader is a performer at mimzys speakeasy and that's where Alastor goes to chose his victims. He sees the reader for the first time and immediately thinks that they are his next victim but he keeps getting thwarted by small incidents, such as the reader leaving early and him barely missing his chance. After a while he notices small things about them and their personality after sort of observing them, and then they meet and he loses his interest in killing them. Of course the slow burn happens, the drama ensues, he's still a killer but keeps it a secret and then after a while the reader finds out. You can choose if you want a happy ending or not, but I had that idea in my mind and your one of the only writers I see that could do it justice. Thanks for sharing your talents!!! Your amazing and gifted in ways that inspire everyone who interacts with your blog🫶🫶🫶

A/N You’re literally so sweet?? Wtf?? I love you?? Thank you??? I hope you like what I did with this fun and fluffy idea!!! ahhhhhh!!!! also, I am running with the ambiguity of the ending. I am such a little slut for ambiguity.

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN. SLOW. BURNING IMAGERY. A LITTLE OVER THE TOP ON THE BURNING IMAGERY THING. Dead bodies, blood, murder, killing, mentions of stalking. This one got away from me a bit.

Word Count: 4,197

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

The box of matches pulled from the pocket had been Alastor going to the bar, all those months before. Nearly a year now, once he sat and really thought about it. He had been going to Mimzy's little speakeasy on the outskirts of town since it had been just that, a little speakeasy on the outskirts of town rather than the full fledged, illegal club she ran today.

Back when it was a speak easy, there had never been a problem. On that fateful day, though he hadn't known it then, the club had changed its form. It had become the kindling. Sitting down at the table had been pulling a match from the box and Y/n.... Y/n had been the rough hewn striker paper he lit it on. It was all so obvious now, looking back. The expression 'hindsight is 20/20' existed for a reason.

So, Alastor had entered the club (matchbox out of pocket). As soon as Mimzy had spotted him, she had run over with a bright smile and a glass of whiskey on the house as always. Alastor had always liked Mimzy. She was wild and positively hilarious when she wanted to be but, at the same time, she had a good head for business. Her morals were just wobbly enough that Alastor felt comfortable with her, a camaraderie he felt with no other.

The lights had gone down suddenly and Mimzy, cutting herself off mid sentence, had turned to the stage in excitement.

"Good show tonight?" Alastor had asked.

Alastor never came to Mimzy's club for the music. She knew he didn't care, not really. Still, he had the curtesy to ask and so, she whipped back towards him.

"You betcha." she grinned up at him, "I just got this new kid? Came from all the way up north, can you believe that? Anyway, they have a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe! Just the bees knees, I tell you."

Grabbing Alastor's arm, Mimzy dragged him to a table by the stage. Alastor sat down across from her (match from the box) with an air of mild reluctance. Mimzy tapped her hands on the table impatiently.

A spot light flickered on and a scrawny young kid stepped onto the stage. He couldn't be much younger than Alastor or Mimzy themselves but he was one of those people that always look younger than they are. He had been working for Mimzy for a while now but, Alastor had never bothered to learn his name. He was simply 'Mimz's Manager' in his view of the world. The kid cleared his throat, leaning in towards the microphone which had been placed at center stage.

"How are we feeling out there tonight?" he asked the room at large and there had been a miscellaneous cheer from the room at large, "Well that's good to hear! We've got a real treat for you tonight folks. All the way from the Big Apple, we bring you, Y/n!"

The kid left the stage and a new figure stepped out from the shadows (revelation of match striker paper). The minute Alastor saw them, in the well cut suit that shone dark in the light, he knew. They were perfect. Slim, but not too fit and shorter than he was. Morally ambiguous enough in their aims that they had come running from New York to work at a speakeasy. This 'Y/n,' if that was even their real name, was his ideal next victim. Alastor smiled in the dim light as somewhere off stage, a piano began to play.

"I'll be loving you, always" the person sang and Alastor was taken aback.

Mimzy had been right. He had never heard a voice like it before. They sang with an emotional depth that could be heard from few. Somehow, they still managed to keep it sounding like music.

"When the things you plan Need a helping hand I will understand, always, always"

Mimzy leaned across the table to Alastor, her eyes alight.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered.

Alastor nodded his head to the side in vague agreement.

"Not for just an hour Not for just a day"

When they finished their set a half hour later, it was to raucous applause. The house lights raised and with them, Mimzy stood from her chair.

"I'll be back in two shakes." she promised before disappearing off into the crowd.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Contemplatively, he took a sip from his drink. The time before a kill was nearly as an enjoyable as the act itself. It was ritualistic, it brought him closer to god.

Before he knew it, Mimzy was back, dragging the singer behind her. They looked slightly frazzled, their hair a bit messy and their brow furrowed.

"Mimzy!" they exclaimed as they struggled to keep up with the woman holding their wrist in her vice-like grip.

Their speaking voice was... different than Alastor had expected. From the way they had sung on stage, he had thought it would be sharp, loud, ebullient. Instead, it was rather soft. Alastor couldn't help but think of the creek out back of the house he had grown up in.

"Al, meet my new favorite!" Mimzy announced, coming to a stop beside Alastor.

"I..."

The situation had been unexpected to say the least. Alastor had had a long day. He hadn't come here to socialize, he came here to drink. Now, he was at a loss for words, the haze of sleep and irritation clouding his mind.

Y/n looked at Mimzy before fixing their gaze back on him. The took a step forward, fixing a smile on their face, and held out their hand.

"Y/n."

So it was their real name. The one they presented to the world, at least.

Alastor smiled, standing from his seat and taking their hand in his.

"Alastor."

They had a firm handshake. There was something authoritative about it, something just a bit too confident.

"Pleasure to be meeting you." they said.

"Quite the pleasure." Alastor nodded.

They broke contact and Y/n turned to Mimzy, suddenly seeming very tired.

"I'm gonna head, Mimzy." they hummed, their voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony surrounding them.

Before Mimzy could say a word against their statement, they were gone. The crowd sheltered them from sight almost immediately. After that night, Alastor started coming to the club a lot more often.

He always sat in the same seat, the table near stage left. It was right next to the exit. Anyone getting off the stage had to go right past him. It was a calculated choice. Step one of his little projects, so to speak, had always been learning more about his victims, finding out their patterns.

The problem was, Y/n never seemed to do the same thing twice. Every time Alastor would think himself ready, would ready everything for the action, something different happen. The first time, it had been that Y/n had simply managed to slip out earlier than normal. Mimzy was always introducing them to someone or another after their shows, delaying their departure. That night, it seemed, they had somehow been able to avoid the mayhem.

Another time, the problem had been that Y/n had stayed at the club too long. Alastor was a working man and once the clock hit midnight, it was time to cut his losses and go home. A third time, Y/n had just happened to call out sick the very night he had gotten everything back in order.

A month in, and Alastor was ready for his fourth attempt. He sat at his usual table, drinking his usual drink. When Y/n left the stage, he kept his eyes trained on them as always. It went like clockwork - Mimzy pulled them away, they tried desperately to escape and eventually, they succeeded. That was when everything went south again.

One second, Y/n was by the bar and the next? Gone. Alastor got to his feet, tossing a bill or two to the bar tender and disappearing out through the door. He was determined. Tonight had to be the night. If tonight wasn't the night? He was done. Alastor was not a foolish man, he knew when he was beat.

Quietly, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the occasional echo of a car from elsewhere in the city accompanying him, Alastor slipped down the ally he knew the club's back door let out into.

"There you are."

Alastor spun around.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Y/n leaned casually against the wall, the dark fabric of their dress blending softly with the night. When Alastor didn't reply, standing in their gaze like a deer in headlights, they stood themselves up and walked the step and a half it took for them to be face to face with him.

"I'd like it if you stopped following me. Or, trying to follow me. It's getting kind of old.'' (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Alastor resumed his composure. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned forward, fixing a teasing grin onto his face.

"Oh, would you now?"

Y/n, much to his surprise, held their ground.

"Yeah, I would. Whats your interest in me anyways?"

Thinking on his feet had never been an issue for Alastor. Besides, he really did have some questions for the illusive singer. Or, he had one question for them. One that might lead to others.

"Oh, you know." he hummed, straightening back up, "All the way from the 'Big Apple.'"

Y/n scoffed at his parody of their nightly introduction to the stage. They crossed their arms, glancing off to the ally's entrance as a drunk couple stumbled by.

"Yep."

"Why?"

Turning to face him again, Y/n narrowed their eyes.

"Why do you wanna know?"

The hint of an accent. At least he knew they weren't lying about where they came from.

"I suppose you can call me a curious fan."

"I think being a bit less of both those things would suit you."

They fell into a brief, nearly uncomfortable silence. Letting out a sigh, Y/n was the one to break it.

"Look," they began, "I know you're friends with my boss and all but... I am going to go back into that dive and I am going to stay there until you are long gone. I'll stay the night if I have to, d'ya get it?"

Alastor's smile tightened.

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

Y/n didn't see Alastor for another week. Slowly, the tension that had permeated their every waking moment since meeting Alastor that first night, the constant ache of his eyes on their back, began to fade. Just a little, but it was enough. When they saw him sitting at the bar almost two weeks after their little altercation, the amount it had faded was just enough to make them angry at his return.

Alastor hadn't really meant to come back. His plan was to give it a month, maybe even two. His plan was to come back and resume life like it had been before he had ever even known Y/n existed. His mind had other plans.

He had tried to find another target, occupy himself with a new victim. There was something unsatisfying about it, he couldn't quite get his head in the game. Every time he went to trail a potential victim, he heard their voice ringing out in the silence of his mind.

There you are.

Alastor had been killing for about three years now. He had a good number of victims under his belt and was in no ways a newbie. Even back when he had been one, no one had ever caught him out like that before. There had been a couple close calls, sure. There always were but waiting for him? Thwarting his plans repeatedly? Beating him at his own game?

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Alastor looked up from his glass of whiskey, smiling politely up at Y/n. He could feel the anger radiating off them in waves.

"Mimzy would be rather sad if I just up and disappeared like that, no explanation."

He caught sight of her across the open space and waved. With a bright smile, Mimzy waved back before returning to the conversation she had been embroiled in. Alastor turned back to Y/n.

"Oh, wouldn't you hear that? You're getting sober. Congratulations."

"Ah, but there is still the music and that wonderful new singer who came down from up north not too long ago."

Y/n took a deep breath, calming themselves.

"It's not that hard of a question to answer. Or at least, it shouldn't be for most people. What, are you on the run from the cops? I heard life is oh so dangerous in those big cities up there, after all. Maybe part of the reason was you."

"If I answer your question, will you leave me alone?"

Alastor was silent for a short moment before he replied.

"If I like the answer? Sure. I'll leave you alone."

In a single, sharp movement, Y/n dragged the stool beside him out and sat down. Tapping their fingers on the table, they got the bartender's attention and ordered themselves a drink.

"You want to know why I left New York?" they hummed thoughtfully, "It's because of guys like you."

A shock of sudden nerves fought through Alastor's system. Did they somehow know? After all this time, had someone figured it out? After just under two months?

"Guys like me? What ever on earth do you mean?"

"You know, pretty boys. Pretty boys who turn out to be creepy boys that don't know the meaning of the word 'no.'" (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

It wasn't the first time Alastor had been called pretty or handsome or something of the like. In fact, he knew he was pretty. It was part of why the whole ruse worked. Normally, however, when people told him he was, it was accompanied by far too much blushing and looks to the side. Y/n held his gaze firmly the whole time.

"So, you're escaping an ex? A jaded lover?"

"A jaded 'someone-who-watched-me-perform-once-and-decided-it-meant-we-were-married'? Yeah."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Y/n. They picked up the glass, downing it in one go. They grimaced.

"You like my answer?"

"Hmmm... no." Alastor grinned, ear to ear, "I don't think I do."

Y/n sighed.

"What is it you want from me?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He was very good at keeping the inside from showing on the outside. The question had just caught him so off guard, or maybe it was something about Y/n that had him on his toes, he couldn't help it. They kept seeming to make his head spin.

"Want from you?"

"Money? Sex? Fame? A fall guy? What."

"I don't want anything from you." (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. The answer had been automatic. Alastor himself was struggling to comprehend the words that had left his mouth. He wanted to kill them, right? What he wanted from them was their life, right? That was what he had been working for over all these days, fighting for. He knew it was true so why did the statement not feel like a lie as it had traveled from his tongue?

"Yeah right." Y/n placed their hands on the bar, pulling themselves to stand, "I totally believe that."

"Just your time, Songbird. Just your time."

They turned to him.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. I don't understand you either."

They paused.

"It frustrates me." Y/n admitted, "Who even are you? I don't know anything except your name."

Alastor gave their now empty chair a pointed look. Y/n stood in contemplation for a few seconds before they nodded their head once, seemingly to themselves, and took their seat once again. Confidently, they tapped two fingers on the lip of their empty glass.

"Another."

(match strikes paper, match lights.)

Alastor was the match, Y/n was the paper. The club stopped being kindling the moment the pair took their conversation outside its boundaries for the first time, about a month or so later. For a while, there was no kindling, there was just match and paper. Alastor liked it that way.

It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he really did have no interest in killing them anymore. That the moment such an idea occurred, he could see them in his minds eye, smiling or picking at the hem of their shirt the way they did when they were nervous.

The kindling reappeared when Alastor realized the match had been struck in the first place. That was a whole other thing. The friendship suddenly seemed easy, the loss of bloodlust directed toward them was like nothing in the face of a realization like that. Once he recognized the flame, Alastor stopped being a match and Y/n stopped being paper. The match became the little flutter of their stomachs when they caught sight of one another, the tension of the moments where they could make contact. Y/n and Alastor were kindling now and they were standing oh so very close to that dangerous flame.

It was Alastor's sleeve that caught fire first. It happened when they had gotten caught in the rain. Y/n had opened their umbrella and, seeing Alastor had none, insisted he join them in its cover. Alastor had, of course, refused. With a roll of their eyes, they had grabbed his hand and yanked him forcefully into place beside them. Alastor hadn't realized they had only touched once, when they first shook hands, until Y/n's skin made contact with his once again.

The worst part about it all, was that it made sense. It made so much sense. They were quiet, contemplative, and calculative. Before long, being with them felt like being with an extension of himself in an odd way. Alastor couldn't quite describe it, he didn't have the words.

Y/n always seemed to notice things no one else did. When Alastor had forgotten his umbrella the next three or four times it had rained, they had confronted him.

"Almost like you're doing this on purpose." they had hummed softly.

Though they didn't look at him, Y/n knew Alastor was blushing.

"Shut up."

The next thing to catch had been Y/n's collar. Y/n had been chatting with him, sharing a drink before their set and they had lost track of time. At the sound of the stage manager, Alastor still did not know his name, beginning their introduction to the stage, they had jumped up in fright, hurriedly tightening their tie which they had loosened in the casual atmosphere. Noticing that the action had caused part of their collar to fold awkwardly, Alastor had gotten to his feet as well. With a gentleness he had not made use of since his mother died, he had fixed Y/n's collar.

"Wh-" they had stopped mid question, having realized what he was doing.

His hand lingered on their collar. Y/n's eyes traveled up his arm, at last meeting his own.

"Thank you."

Those big wide eyes, full of curiosity and comfort. Alastor could get lost in those.

"Y/n!" the stage manager announced.

"Shit!" they exclaimed and the magic of the moment was broken as they pulled themselves away.

All it took was that. It wasn't much but, fire has a way of working with what it has. When a few days later Y/n had stepped out into the street without looking, being too caught up in the story they were telling Alastor, and he had pulled them back just as a car passed, it was too late. The house couldn't be saved, the flames had gone too far. A few blocks later, after thanking him, Y/n had realized they were still holding hands. They stopped, pulling Alastor to a halt beside them.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going for lunch. Are you quite alright? You were the one who sugge-"

"No, Alastor. I mean: what are we doing?"

Alastor followed the path of their eyes to their interlaced fingers.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause. The world turned around them.

"I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Alastor took a deep breath before braving the sight of their bewildered and slightly saddened face once again.

"I said all I wanted was your time."

"That's the problem."

Y/n let go of his hand, running their own through their loose hair.

"That's the problem, Alastor." they said again.

"What is?"

Y/n had a habit of telling him the most serious things eye to eye with a stoney demeanor. He was surprised to see them break from this confident custom of theirs as they looked away, their arms wrapping protectively around themself.

"I want more. I want you to want more."

Alastor was stunned, he was speechless.

"I... I'll see you tomorrow, Al."

Before they could make it more than a step away, Alastor grabbed their shoulder, spinning them to him. Y/n looked up at him, confusion painting their features with the most delicate brush.

Alastor struggled, he fought. Still, there were no words.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, "I want your time. Y/n, I want you."

Alastor kept finding himself in trickier and trickier situations. First there had been trying to kill them, then the hurdle of not wanting to kill them. Friendship had given way to its own bag of worms and now that they were more than friends?

He had thought that it all would stop. He had thought that if things ever worked out the way they had, everything would be okay. He had forgotten his nature.

At first, hiding the killings was just as easy as it had been before. It did not stay that way. Alastor was good at hiding things, always had been. That wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he cared about Y/n, he didn't want to hurt them. Keeping secrets... well, his mother had always told him that no one ever fools anybody. His mother was a wise woman. His mother had been right.

Y/n had stopped by as a surprise. They had a home cooked meal in a basket and a bag over their shoulder full of records they thought he would like. When they stepped into the foyer of Alastor's large, garden district home, they had called their usual greeting.

Alastor's heart had stopped at the sound of their voice. He froze, his cleaver still firmly wedged between the shoulder and chest of the man he was chopping into pieces for easier disposal. Hoping it was his mind playing tricks on him, he waited. They called again.

"Al! I have a surprise for you! The surprise is me! And also? I made you dinner. Come out! I know you're home!"

Under any other circumstances, them showing up like this would have filled him with unbridled joy. However, it wasn't any other circumstances. It was these circumstances. Alastor was covered in another man's blood. There was a body just a few rooms from his beloved. Either way, they would find out the truth. They were a nosey thing, always so inquisitive.

"Alastor!" he heard them call again.

They were closer now, much closer. He watched in a mixture of horror, despair, and a twinge of excitement as the doorknob jiiggled.

"Alastor?"

How would Y/n react to such a sight? Would they cower in fear? Was their love alone enough to hold them here, to tie them to him in loyalty? Would they run to the cops? Would they cry? Would they ask to help? Would he have to kill them too?

It was sickeningly delightful, all the unknowns. His heart pounded violently in his ears. The door swung open.

"There you are!"

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

"My dear! How wonderful to see you."

----

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

Sorry if the end made you angry,,, I just think the not knowing is so much more fun!

Also the song is "Always" by Irving Berlin.

[familyabolisher]

if you wouldn't mind sharing, what did schitt's creek do disappointingly in its story? thank you!

so, like. i mean, i think the show was flawed from the start -- i think a lot of the jokes rely on this image of the, like, small-town 'hick,' that in turn relies on a pretty hefty set of classist assumptions that i don't think dan levy was, you know, interested in interrogating in any serious way. i don't watch sitcoms for their revolutionary politics lol but there were certain moments in eg. roland and jocelyn's characterisation in particular that left an incredibly bad taste in my mouth. (ftr i think season 1 is pretty poor, 2-4 are genuinely good tv, 5 + 6 are a mess.)

but my specific frustration was -- so, at the end of season 4, we see moira despondent that the crows have eyes 2 was shelved; we also see the culmination of a season's worth of work having gone into the community production of cabaret. from here, the plot beats seemed so obvious to me that i was literally like certain i knew how moira's arc would end: clearly, this was an opportunity for her to realise that pursuing the sort of 'fame' she had before was a losing battle that was making her unhappy (and had always made her unhappy!), and that she could find genuine fulfilment through pursuing the kind of 'local,' small-town community opportunities that cabaret was supposed to represent. i mean obviously i have my various communist gripes with this position, but like, by the standards i hold sitcoms from nepo babies to, it's fair enough! it's a compelling enough response to the setup of the show -- the roses have lost everything and have to learn to live without everything. moira relied on a seemily fictitious narrative of public adoration; an insanely easy way to eke some character growth out of her would surely be to have her realise that small, local projects with her friends bring her a joy that public validation never could.

but, like. by the end of the show, moira gets back on the showbusiness ladder, to the point where her old show is rebooted. johnny gets a foot back in the business world. alexis is a businesswoman. david is a businessman! david chooses to stay in schitt's creek whilst the others leave for NY and cali, which is a compelling enough narrative choice on its own, but like -- come on, he opens a v bougie business and Gets Married and whatever the fuck else, it's boring, it's the same old narrative of assimilation into the bourgeois classes. it makes for a nice contrast against the end of season one but i don't believe he's a fundamentally changed person; he's just found a way to make his old tendencies make sense in a new setting.

there's a sense that the lives of the roses essentially reset; that they've been given the opportunity to return to their old lives, taking the 'lessons' they were able to learn from their time in schitt's creek with them. if anything's been "learnt" then it's these v individualist perspectives on, like, bootstraps and hard work; david and alexis have graduated from being nepo children into people with a legitimate intellectual claim to the bourgeois class. johnny has proven himself as a businessman. moira has uhhhh put on a production of cabaret, which justifies her going back to the old life that clearly made her miserable. like -- there's no sense that their old lives were bad, just a sense that they hadn't quite earnt the right to them yet. and in that, everyone in schitt's creek ends up ultimately reduced to a vehicle by which they can earn the right to their bourgeois status. it's a v nasty ethos, and as much as i find individual points of the show pretty funny (like, funnier than your average sitcom), i just -- like, it's so cruel at its centre?

[penelopetheconartist]

Orange Porch Light : Part 5

Coral Island Fanfiction by a Rafael simp. Rafael and OC. I needed more Rafael content so I wrote some for funzies. This is one of the cuter parts of this lil story imo. Work and classes have been kind to me so I've been able to indulge in writing for myself.

This fanfiction is from my google keep. Edited to make sense but not to be fancy :)

Scene setting. Raf and Pab are decorating for the cherry blossom festival. Mayor and Betty are there helping Millie with planning and coordinating the games n shit. Penelope is out walking and sees that stuff is happening in the park, so she wanders that way. Betty and the mayor are all OMG look at all this prep for the festival. They call over Pablo and start talking about him and praising him for all the help he does around the town. Literally the whole time Penelope keeps looking at Rafael who is ACTUALLY DOING THE WORK! So, while the oldies are talking about how amazing Pablo is, Penelope removes herself from the conversation and approaches Rafael who was up on a ladder hanging decorations. As she approached, he came down from the ladder to grab some more decorations. He did not see her.

“Hi Rafael”, Penelope said just as he turned around. He quickly turned, startled but smiled, “oh! Hey Penelope.” “Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you.” He laughed shyly, “ah. No worries. Uhm what are you doing here?” “I was walking and saw that the park was busy.” “Oh yeah. The cherry blossom festival is soon”, he smiled more. “Would you like some help?” Rafael was a little surprised at the offer but as soon as he saw Pablo still surrounded by old people praising him, Rafael sighed, “Uh help would actually be really nice”, he rubbed the back of his neck as he felt himself get flustered, “if you could hand me decorations as I need them, that would be great.” “Sure thing!” Penelope smiled, eager to spend time with him. He climbed back up the ladder and Penelope would pass him whichever decoration he needed next. They chatted and it was easy because they were busy doing work so they could distract from the shared shyness. So, I don't see you out much. What do you do for fun? Rafael leaned forward on the ladder to look down at her, “uh. I watch movies mostly.” Penelope handed him another decoration, “oh yeah? What kind of movies?” He reached up to place the decoration, “Uhm, mostly horror.” Penelope smiled, “do you have a favourite?”

Yeah, uhm, Alakazam, he started to grin, it has a lot of jump scares so its pretty fun.”

Penelope nodded thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ve seen that one yet.”

Rafael lit up. Yet!? “You like horror too?”

“Yeah, although I think I lean more towards thriller than jump scare”, she smiled Then they started talking excitedly about all their favourite horror movies while they continued decorating the park. Penelope went on a tangent about different directors and their different takes on what makes a thriller and Rafael stared at her dreamily. Penelope noticed he looked a little out of it, "you alright?" Rafael snapped back to reality pink tinting his face, “uh yeah. Let's take a break.” They sat on the grass and looked towards Pablo still getting praised by the old people. Rafael rolled his eyes. “I take it this happens often.” Rafael laughed to himself, “yeah”, he took a drink of water and then held it to Penelope, “Uhm do you want some? I'm sorry I only have my water bottle. Some people think sharing drinks is gross.” Penelope laughed and took the water, “I don't think it's gross unless you're sick.” She took a sip. He grinned relieved. “So, are we gunna have a horror movie marathon on Halloween?” Penelope gave him back the bottle. Rafael lit up, “uh we could! That sounds like fun.” Penelope's smile changed into a more mischievous one, “and then we could dress up in really gory costumes and hide in the woods and scare people!” Rafael's brows went up, Uhm. Maybe...., he laughed nervously. Penelope laughed, “I wouldn't. Well....” Rafael shook his head and took a final sip of water on their break. “So how long is that gunna last”, Penelope pointed to the old people and Pablo. Rafael sighed and looked around the park, “if you want to keep helping me....uh we could probably have the park done before they're done talking.” “Well”, Penelope stood and offered a hand to help Raf up, “shall we get back to it?” Rafael smirked and took her hand but did not use her for help standing, He appreciated the gesture though. Rafael was right, they did finish the park before Pablo was finished being praised. This whole time Penelope kept up with Rafael hauling all the heavy decorations. He was impressed and thankful. Raf hated when Pablo got distracted and then he would do most of this himself. Before long, Penelope and Rafael were done. They stood beside each other admiring their hard work. All that's left is to make sure the lights are connected, Rafael walked towards the power and Penelope followed. The sun had begun to lower so the lights would be somewhat noticeable. He handed her the cables, “would you like to do the honours?” Penelope grinned in excitement, “sure!” Rafael's seen the park lit up before so he peeked at Penelope's expression as soon as everything lit up. “Wow”, she sighed, it's so pretty! Rafael felt his face turning pink. She was so cute it was hard not to stare at her. Finally, he also looked at the lights, “they look even better in the dark.” They smiled at each other and went back to looking at the park. “Thanks for the help, Penelope”, Rafael said rubbing his arm, “I really appreciate it.” Penelope smiled at him, “You’re welcome! This was fun!” Rafael snickered, “I owe you one for sure.” “Oh no don't worry about it.” Pablo came running over to them.

“I'm so sorry Raf!” He cried out of breath, “Betty and Connor wouldn't leave me alone! Let me cook dinner. Penelope, I owe you too. Will you join us?” Penelope shrugged, “uh sure.” “Awesome”, he smiled his big, charming smile, “the park looks great! You two did a great job!”

While Pablo was cooking, Penelope and Rafael hung out in the kitchen and all 3 were chatting. Pablo kept apologizing about Betty and Connor. Rafael brushed off the apologies and Penelope accepted the apologies. Pablo noticed Rafael appeared almost a bit more confident around Penelope. Maybe it was a good thing he slacked off this time. After dinner, Penelope went home, and Pablo cleaned up the dishes as part of his apology to Rafael. Rafael still felt he owed Penelope since he didn't cook the dinner so the next morning, he got up extra early to make some food and go buy coffee. He really hoped Raj knew how Penelope liked her coffee. Thankfully they did and all Rafael had to do was walk to her farm. And not chicken out. Penelope was hard at work, and she didn't notice Rafael until he was at her doorstep. He waved and a confused Penelope dropped what she was doing in her garden and approached him. “Rafael? It's 7 in the morning. What are you doing?” He blushed and handed her the coffee, “I uh wanted to show my appreciation for your help yesterday.” Penelope took the cup, “Rafael. This is so kind of you, but you really didn't---" “I also made extra sashimi”, he interrupted and handed her the container. She just looked at him surprised and he glanced away shyly.

Penelope took a sip of her coffee, “Mmmm, this is perfect.”

“Yeah?” Raf was relieved she said something.

She smiled and nodded.

“Cool, uh. Well, I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.” Although Rafael brought her coffee and lunch earlier today, he still didn't feel like he had thanked Penelope enough but what else could he do? He and Pablo sat in the living room watching TV. Raf, in his ponderings, looked around and noticed it was quite dark outside. Suddenly, Rafael had the most perfect idea and whipped out his phone to text Penelope. He was just dramatic enough that Pablo glanced over his shoulder to see his bro texting like a madman. He didn't ask. Freshly showered and in her snuggly pajamas, Penelope was getting ready for a cozy solo movie night. She had a beer ready, some popcorn ready, and her squishmallow, Francine on the couch. Before she cracked the beer, she noticed her phone had a message. Oh, from Rafael? <Can you meet me at the park? It's urgent> Penelope was worried. What could've happened??? Did something happen with the decorations?? She didn’t ask, he said it was urgent. <Be there in 10> She threw some shoes on and bolted out in her jammies. What could be urgent this late? It was so dark Penelope was squinting to try and see Rafael anywhere. “Rafael?” She called out to the void, “Is everything okay?” All the lights suddenly came on. Penelope gasped in awe; the lights were so much prettier in the dark. Caught up in the surprise and the beauty Penelope wandered the park admiring the decorations. Pink petals danced around her in the chilly spring night air, and she was caught up in the magic. Penelope finally saw Rafael standing by the power generator and she smiled at him. “Rafael, this is really beautiful. But you had me worried. I thought something was wrong.” “Uh sorry”, Rafael rubbed his neck, “I wanted to surprise you.” Penelope laughed and approached him, “why?” “I wanted you to see the lights when it was dark. Uhm when it's not busy. Like tomorrow will be. As a proper thank you. For the help yesterday.” Penelope smiled but omg, “Rafael, the coffee this morning was enough. Seriously.” Rafael just made a hmm noise in disagreement. Penelope shook her head and walked around a little more to admire the lights that were all for her tonight. He finally noticed what she was wearing, “Uhm. Are those pajamas?” Penelope face palmed realizing she booked it here in her jammies, “yes. Because you said it was urgent ...” Rafael smirked a bit embarrassed, “ah I'm sorry.” Her jammies were so cute, fuzzy with little duckies all over them. “Do you always wear such cute pajamas?” He asked without thinking. Penelope rolled her eyes and answered without thinking, “I usually don't wear any.” Rafael coughed not wanting to picture that but also really wanting to picture that. “Oh! Uhm.” His voice was higher, “uh. Caught you on a good night then??” Penelope started to laugh so hard which helped Rafael come down from whatever high he went on and he joined the laughter albeit awkward because he was still fighting the mental image. “This is much prettier at night”, Penelope finally said, “thanks for showing me.” Rafael was blushing hard, “no problem. Sorry I made it sound like an emergency.” Penelope elbowed him, “yeah don't make it sound like an emergency next time. I'll still show up.” Raf gulped.....next time?? She wants there to be a NEXT TIME! He rubbed the back of his neck, he was so flustered, “got it ... no fake emergencies.”

They turned off the lights and strolled together to the graveyard. Rafael was still flustered but managed to maintain some composure.

“I’ll see you at the festival tomorrow?” Penelope half asked as she wasn’t sure if Rafael attends festivals.

He rubbed his neck, “yeah.”

“Cool”, she smiled, “sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams”, he stuttered.

Penelope was more embarrassed that she ran out in her pajamas to realize how romantic the whole evening was. This realization hit her like a ton of bricks as she stepped on to the first bridge near her home. Was that a romantic gesture???????!!!!!!! Because she’s an idiot, she decided to ignore this question and have a stronger drink for her solo movie night.

Pablo was upstairs when Rafael got in.

“Oh, where did you go?” he asked in passing.

“Nothing!” Rafael stammered and disappeared into his room. Pablo did not ask.

[sunnysafezone]

tue. 7th of may

Hello stranger on the internet!

Its been a long time, but I have a valid reason to keep you waiting.

I guess.

I am going to make it really quick, I fell into the Stardew Valley rabbbit hole.

So what can I say, it might me the best thing I´ve done so far. I think I have played around 20 hours by now and I am obsessed. And it is getting worse and worse the longer I am playing.

And believe me, dear stranger on the internet, I thought hogwarts leagacy was bad.

So to just get the first impression out of my head, I wand to list a few things about the game, I really really enjoy.

The Graphics - this game is so colorful, so cute, so detailed, its everything a pixel lover could ever wish for. The different seasons gave me literal chills because they look so individual but each time just as beautiful as the last one.

The characters - please excuse me but you can ROMANCE different NPCs ?! As soon as I learned about that, I was SOLD. But apart from the marrying and romancing part. I am truly amazed by how lovingly every character is written and designed. There is someone for every player! On my part, its going to be my girl Leah. I mean, I´ve been already courting her all year. She is gorgeous, artsy and so charming. There was no question at all.

The game mechanics - as funny as this might sound but I was more than surprised about the fact that the game is as complex as it is. The farming alone is so much fun and requires so much thought and time. The fact that you can plant and harvest a rediculous amount of different crops each season, that you can choose what you personally want to plant and wich animals you want to have in your farm. It´s so much fun. Additionally, you can chop wood in the big forest and harvest stones, ores and other minerals in the mine. How cool is that? Dear stranger, i did´nt even mention the seasonal events, the friendships and in game storylines. There are countless things to discover.

The mysterious mysteries of the valley - until now, I´ve just talked about a very nice, enjoyable RPG collecting and harvesting game. Because I bought it as such. I never would have guessed that there are so many whimsical secrets to be discovered in the valley. I never would have imagined a group of charming little entities, living from the earth and hoping around in the community center. I am also very keen on finding out whats up with the grandpa shrine and the little totems wich are scattered all over the map. And I cannot believe I didnt mention that ffirst, there are literal FAIRIES flying around your farm at night. I mean, case closed!

The customization!!!! - obviously, we have to talk about the fact, that you can decorate, customize and change everything around you to you own liking. It starts with yourself, the character you want to play as. Then you can choose your farm layout, wich is so cool. For the beginning I chose the forest farm, but i honestly want to restart on the river farm or the beach farm, because they look just so cute. You can choose your pet, your friends and even your spouse as I already mentioned earlier). You can customize your farm and farmhouse and even some parts of the remaining map.

All in all, I am just enthusiastic about the game and its facets. I might be a little bit addicted already, because I already want to go back to Pelican town.

But why is it so good? For me, its a relatively easy question to answer. Stardew Valley makes it possible for me to feel like I am living the magical slow live I damn dream of every day before I wake up. The thought of getting away, living of the land and just forge your own reality just makes me incredibly happy. And again, as funny as it sounds, this game gives me enough to escape into that daydream.

So to end my little entry today, I want to come back to the prompts I tried to set for myself. So lets get into it.

my current read: "Does it hurt?" - H.D. Carlton (not even half as good as Haunting Adeline - i guess i have to get back to the second book and write about it)

my current favorite song: Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey - Paul and Linda McCartney

my motivations: I quit my corporate job and start to work in a small cafe. Thats my own version of escape i guess.

Thats all for today.

Thank you for reading!

Sunny

[chessandpolitics]

Our Town by Thornton Wilder

Published: 1938

Synopsis: Our Town is a three-act play presenting the lives of the residents of the fictional town of Grover's Corners, New Hampshire. Spanning 1901 to 1913, a selection of the everyday joys, sorrows, and idle times between are shared with the audience by a meta-theatrical narrator, the Stage Manager, who provides additional commentary on the town and its people throughout the play.

Despite its frame of a small, early 1900s New Hampshire town, Our Town maintains a timelessness that spurs its relevance still today. While the idea of the "great American play" is a bit overused, I still find Wilder's play to be one of the classics of the American repertoire.

This is far from my first encounter with Our Town. I saw a high school production in late elementary school, and more recently directed a scene for a college assignment my sophomore year. I, of course, didn't really get the show when I first saw it. I was young and not familiar with theatre, I'm sure I was bored by the end of it.

Coming back to it in college, though, I was more ready for it. Emilee and George are just out of high school when they get married — I was on my second year out of high school, and had just enough life experience to understand it, and to feel some parts of the play much deeper. I'm sure coming back to it in a few decades, my feelings will change evermore.

It's easy to call it a boring play. It's about the lives of some small-town people, there's no building plot or conflict, and it sort of just... ends, with no real resolution.

But Our Town is about the people. It's sentimental. It asks for maturity, patience, and for the ability to find meaning in the little moments. In this case, it's the little moments that illustrate the underlying themes of the show. When you look at something so big, sometimes the only way to make it feel real is to pare it down to an ordinary day, or a passing comment, or a reflection on a memory.

In Act 1, the Stage Manager mentions they're building a bank in the town, and putting some documents with the cornerstone to be dug up in a thousand years or so. Newspapers, Shakespeare plays, a Bible — and a copy of this play, to let whoever finds it know how life was lived. We know hardly anything about the everyday lives of ordinary people of some of the greatest empires. With this sentiment, the mundane gains greater value. Maybe in the future, they'll like to know what a normal day was like all the way back in 1901.

It would be hard to talk about this play without bringing up Act 3 — set in the graveyard, with a cast of ghosts. Wilder doesn't paint an idyllic picture of an afterlife. The ghosts are remnants of the people they once were, they don't feel or love as they did in life. It's an unhappy end to the play. Emily has left behind a husband and two children, and learned the painful way that she can't dwell on the life she lived. The curtain is literally drawn in front of her husband, George, mourning at her grave. But, even as the show ends, the Stage Manager's final words remind us: the world around us continues to move forward.

Some plays, in their portrayal of old-fashioned, small-town American life, feel like a nostalgia-bait, asking us to think wistfully for times and ways of life gone by. But Our Town is neither a glorification nor vilification of the lives and times it portrays - it simply is. It's the story of lives lived, good and bad, happy and tragic. It doesn't pretend to know the best way of living. The decisions characters make - not to attend college, to get married, to leave, to stay, to speak up, to look away - are not postured as the "best" decisions those people could have made. But they're the ones that were made, and the if-thens and maybe-whats don't matter so much to the residents of Grover's Corners. Just the lives they lived.

...

Emily: Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you. [ She looks toward the stage manager and asks abruptly, through her tears: ] Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?— every, every minute?

Stage Manager: No. [Pause.] The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.

Emily: I'm ready to go back.

— Our Town, Act III

[midori-laboratories]

Flowers and Ash, Chapter 17

Book 1, Calendula Chronicles series.

Story synopsis: When the eldest daughter of Edward Ashford accompanies her father and brother on a last-minute trip in 1968 to secure their legacy, an act of spite turns into a boon for the family. When tragedy and scandal strike, the survivors will have to be clever if they are to live long enough to pick up the pieces of their lives. Pre-slash/Gen.

Chapter synopsis: Marigold settles her affairs and catches a ride out of town. The final chapter of Book One.

CW for implied death of family member, isolation, dissociation, and violence, drugs, manipulation, grief

Rebecca had finally come home early that morning, after hours of debriefing. They had been warned to sit tight for now, to speak to no one. Irons had been particularly focused on the No Talking rule. The media would be all over them soon enough.

The nightmare was over.

Rebecca showered under the hottest setting she could physically stand until the hot water ran out. She scrubbed. Every inch of skin, multiple passes through her hair. There was not enough soap in the world.

She was exhausted. Sleep wouldn’t be an option soon, but…she didn’t want it. Not yet. Her nightmares while on a hair-trigger inside the mansion had been bad enough. What would happen when she finally was safe in her own bed?

Rebecca headed for the coffee machine and got it started. Counterintuitive; but the caffeine spike would be followed with a low, and she might be able to leverage that with Gravol to bypass the dreams. It was a thin hope, but she was willing to try it.

A sharp knock came at the door. Rebecca jumped at the sound. She had left her sidearm at the station for evidence. Don’t talk to anyone until we clear it, Irons warning them. She stood frozen in her kitchen. Could it be Jill?

Another sharp knock, much harder. The door shook in its frame. The person outside swore and pulled it back. “Miss Chambers, I don’t have a lot of time.” The voice was young, female- around her age, although the tone was strangely formal. She was talking through the door while trying to manage her volume. “I’m…I’m not with them, if it helps. I needed to talk to one of you, and I don’t think I’ll get the time for a mulligan without consequences. “

Rebecca was a medic first. She hesitated a moment longer, then moved quickly to open the door.

The woman on the other side looked like an average office worker. A duffel bag was slung over one shoulder, no purse in sight.

She held an umbrella ID card out to Rebecca in one hand, who looked sharply back at the woman’s face. The woman stood there, waiting until Rebecca glanced back down at the card again. John Clemens. The man who had written the letter admitting them to the lab, out of desperate hope that they might be avenged. She stopped breathing. The woman smiled. “Mutual friend, I think. Can I come in for a few minutes? I’m getting the hell out of town as soon as I’m done here, but…I don’t think you realize how bad things are about to get for your team.”

Rebecca goggled at her. It would have been easy to hear the words as a threat and slam the door shut, if not for the object in her hand. Of course it wasn’t over. Of course. She stepped back, and let the stranger in.

It was just as well that she was making coffee anyways.

---

Ada watched the strange woman disappear into the house. Maybe an hour. Hopefully, much less.

Ada had asked her why this traumatized girl would even speak to her- they would be on lockdown by now. The woman- she had refused to give a name- had seemed distracted. “Also a loaded question. She’ll talk to me.” She had scrubbed her face in exhaustion, likely running caffeine and adrenaline. Ada wondered if she had been planning to snatch a few hours sleep at John’s house. What had changed her mind?

“This is quite literally the least I can do for them.”

“Mutual friends?”

“Mutual what-the-hell-is-that, sure.” the woman hesitated. “I don’t want to deal with a swarm of whatever you call until we’re away from here. Can you wait to call them?” She had nodded to Ada’s car phone. “They’re going to have enough coming down on their heads, and I don’t think they have any idea.”

Ada had considered the request. There were cracks in this woman’s façade, and she wasn’t nearly as sure of Ada as she had out on when sliding into her car.

Ada had considered the request. Then: “I’m going to go for a drive. I’ll be at that corner in an hour. I wasn’t supposed to talk to you, you know. I’ll likely have a drop-off point for you.”

“Much appreciated. Is Daniel Simmons still at the old Connecticut place?” Ada’s face must have actually twitched, because the woman smiled and nodded. Well, if she were going to put in the effort to stay interesting…she smiled back. “One hour. Scout’s honor.”

Ada had driven a few blocks away and parked. One hour. There were recording devices in her car, obviously. And she had managed a few nice, clear pictures of the woman’s face while she had been on the street. She picked up the phone and called her handler.

“I need to use the drop point for a package- the one just outside town. I’ll let you know when I deliver it.” She hung up before he could reply. They were used to that from her.

Then she hesitated. If the Family was involved in the leak up at the mansion, she’d need to call in a favour. If she asked the right person and caught a missing butterfly for them...having Derek Simmons own her a favour would be useful. But his father? Priceless.

She dialed the Connecticut number. Derek picked up. She headed him off before he could build up any momentum.

“This isn’t a social call. Was there anyone in deep at the Raccoon City facility?”

Derek paused. Then, “Honestly, not that I know of. We have a good working relationship with them, and I have people at their headquarters keeping us updated. Why?” His normal flirtation was forgotten, and his tone wary. That was good. He’d last longer that way.

“If I send you a photo later in a few hours, can you run it by your father? I ran into someone who dropped his name to me, and I don’t think that was an accident. British, maybe blonde? Her American accent wasn’t the worst I’ve heard, but if she was supposed to be an agent, she’s either brand new or making a run for it.”

“I’ll tell him to expect it. Some of the things I’ve heard out of there recently are…off-putting…to the board. Keep sharp.”

Understatement of the decade. She hung up without another word.

---

Rebecca closed the door behind the stranger, circled back around while holding what felt like a safe distance. The woman held very still, letting Rebecca take the ID out of her hand. A piece of plastic was clipped into the lanyard attached to the ID. A moments scrutiny confirmed that it was a hospital bracelet:

Marigold Ashford. Female

DOB: 05/05/1949. Type: A-Pos.

Project Placidia. Umbrella Corporation

Rebecca made a strangled sound. The woman looked back, her face a blank mask. “That’s mine- I’m leaving it here, if that’s alright.”

Rebecca stared at her. “This says you’re almost fifty.”

“And I am trying very hard not to think about that, because it means I lost seventeen years in a basement. I’m quite serious about not having time.” She -Marigold, apparently- seemed to steel herself. “I wrote down what I knew early this morning, as soon as I got clear. It’s…old information, and if Umbrella knows I visited one of you I don’t know what they’re capable of anymore. But..I need to know. There was a strange man in the woods. Looked young, long reddish hair, very dramatic, generally horrid. His face...changed.” She looked hard at Rebecca. “Is he dead? For certain?”

Rebecca gaped at her. “You were there.”

“I probably just missed you. I kept away until I could figure out whether you were Umbrella yourselves. Please. I need to know that Marcus isn’t coming back.“

Rebecca deflated slightly. She had been bristling, she realized. “He isn’t,“ she said, calmer, tired. We…I put him down myself. Anything that was left would have been destroyed when the facility blew up.”

“…Alright.” Marigold seemed to soften.

“You were really there.”

Wordlessly, Marigold reached into the duffel bag and held out the lab notebook, her focus for much of that morning. “That covers what I saw, and what I know. It’s not evidence- they’ll say you made it up, and I’m still hoping they think I died in there. But..it’s information. A timeline. Names. Things that can be followed up in. Just… be very careful that no one knows about this until you decide whether to use it. I don’t think your bosses are on your side.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because of who was in charge of your team. I may be out of the loop, but I know that name. Please.” The woman’s voice picked up a light tremor. “I need to know there aren’t more traps waiting for me. Not from that corner.”

Rebecca looked down at the notebook, hesitated, then took it. Flipped it open. Tight, cramped handwriting had filled in at least twenty pages. Emptied sugar packets bookmarked sections of diagrams: maps, approximate layouts.

This wasn’t a tip. This was a plan for war. She looked sharply back up at the woman in front of her, who was lightly wringing her now-empty hands. This might be an Umbrella trick, but it seemed too elaborate to send someone so clearly afraid of getting caught. “I can provide a blood sample if you have equipment for it, as well. I know this is a lot to take on faith.”

Rebecca answered automatically. “Not on faith. But yes- it’s a lot.” She came to a decision. Okay. I’ll grab my backup kit. Help yourself to coffee.”

The conversation was brief, and the woman (Marigold, though she had requested that they not overuse the name outside this conversation - she had to concur given, well, everything) helped herself to a cup of black coffee (downing it, then placing the cup directly into the dishwasher), and allowed, with some visible apprehension, for Rebeca to take three vials of blood. True to her word, Rebecca told her how the Alpha team captain had met his end, and the anguish of his surviving team members. None of them had known. All of them had trusted him. The release of the Tyrant had then unleashed utter chaos on an already fraught situation. Marigold interrupted her once.

“He woke the thing up and made himself the biggest target? Like this?” The woman looked perplexed, to the point of sheer irritation. She raised her arms out wide to her sides, punctuating her question. Rebecca nodded, and Marigold’s frown deepened. “That...sounds insane. No, not the story. Just...it’s like wearing a ‘Kick Me’ sign on steroids.” Why would he do that? was writ large across her face. “You can’t exactly fake getting impaled through the chest. Not at that range.”

“No,” Rebecca agreed. None of them had really questioned it. The fight with the Tyrant had pulled their focus entirely, and what point would there be to trying to get into their dead captain’s head? She glanced to the notebook. Maybe some.

Marigold started to stand. “I might have a contact inside headquarters. I think she’s wanted to cut loose from them for a while, but - this sort of thing is easy to dismiss as rumours at her level. Not this, most likely. Can I put her in touch?” She grimaced. “I’m sorry to put this on you, but I think she’d have to reach out to you anyhow. They’re probably keeping a very close eye on their staff right now.”

Rebecca flipped the book open, scrawling down her university email address. They let alumni hold on to theirs indefinitely upon graduation, and it would be a less obvious address than her personal one, or the RPD contact. “I’ll give you my email. I’d rather not risk it getting recorded on voicemail in that case, and I can access it more readily.” She moved to tear out the blank page, but Marigold held a hand out to stop her. “Eidetic memory. Just show it to me, I’ll remember. I’m handing off all of the bits of evidence as quickly as I can anyhow. It would be best if I can deny knowing about any of this.” She sighed. “Last time I really pushed myself to make a point it went very poorly.” She paused. “Um.”

“What?”

“What’s...email?” At Rebecca’s expression, she changed her mind. “Nevermind. I can still pass that to her. I’ll work it out later. Thanks so much for the coffee. Stay as safe as you can.”

---

The entire visit lasted forty-five minutes. Marigold hurried out the door, Rebecca still staring after her, then down at the small bounty left on her kitchen table. The girl seemed entirely too sweet to have survived the circles of hell she had, but she had.

Marigold hoped that she had left them with enough. Her own path was murky, but was beginning to take form.

”I have a hypothetical for you. Have you ever been to Spain?”

“Once or twice,” Ada replied.

“Say you’re running with the bulls. Or, I don’t know, something to do with not getting gored. What kind of person antagonizes then and draws their focus?”

Ada gave her a sidelong look. Marigold grimaced “I know, but...humour me for a moment, alright?”

“Generally, idiots. Matadors, maybe?” Ada shrugged. “Although, again. Idiots. Matadors have a fairly high death rate. Men do all sorts of idiotic things in order to cover themselves in glory.”

“Maybe.” Marigold leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes a moment. That feeling from the forest, the one of being hunted was gone. Maybe it would stay gone.

She was getting out of here.

“I have to follow up on a lead this afternoon, but I’m going to stash you in a motel across the interstate. The other side of town from where it looks like you started. I don’t suppose you have ID.”

“No. Nothing.” Marigold kept her eyes closed. The cool air inside the car was soothing. She’d fall asleep if she forgot herself. “I doubt any of it is any good anymore anyhow.” Even if this woman connected her to Umbrella, let her think she was a patient. Or an intern. Rebecca had an incentive to give the samples and information to her team. They might be agile enough to do something if they moved quickly, so Marigold needed to give them all the ammunition she could and hope they used it well. Ada might have ties to her old contacts, but the world had shifted since she had gone away. The ground she stood on now was far from solid.

Ada sighed next to her, and Marigold forced herself to open her eyes. “I’ll sign you in, then. I don’t suppose you’d like to give me a name? I’m sure this place sees its share of Jane Does, but -”

“Callie,” Marigold said, quietly. “Callie Lundy.” Only the family called her that, and she’d be able to respond to it. Her old classmates might put it together. Daniel would be in for a bit of a shock if Ada really knew him.

They drove in silence the rest of the way. Ada glanced at her, presumably decided that she wasn’t about to take off, and went in to sign in. A moment later, she returned with a set of keys. “Here. It’s on the ground floor, at the end of the row. I have a pickup coming for you in a few hours. You might want to use that time to sleep.”

Marigold cracked a wry grin. “That is the smartest thing I’ve heard anyone say today.”

---

Marigold unslung the bag from her shoulder and flipped the lock closed behind her. Aside from some water bottles, discarded packaging (stuffed into the motel’s waste bin), and dirty clothes, All she was left with was some office supplies, the knife, compass, and the small gun left for her at the lab. The clothes on her back.

Poor John. He’d had agencies breathing down his neck from every angle, and had no idea. She wasn’t doing much better, herself. All she had managed to do was cross out a small list of people who might be coming after her. It was something. Probably enough to let her breathe for a moment, get her bearings. The Family was likely the lesser evil, but from what Rebecca said, they might be the closest thing to a body independent of Umbrella than anything else. Not ideal, but that was just a refrain of what she was going to do once her window of being able to pass for normal was up. There hadn’t been a good solution before she was taken. Alexia had begun to ask pointed questions about the company, and her infection at age nine, which Alexander had shrugged off as his bright little girl’s genius at work. Was this really any worse?

She looked out the window at the idyllic wilderness, a bit of scrubland by the highway. The motel was at least a mile outside the city. It was worn, and tiny, but the room she’d been given was reasonably clean. She shut the curtains, away from prying eyes.

She was so tired of the intrigue, and the traps. She was just...tired.

The day had been warm. She had spent several hours since early this morning just walking around, documenting, trying to plan. Peeling the borrowed clothes away, she made for the shower.

There wasn’t enough soap in the world, but she did her best with what she had. The tea dye rinse washed out easily. It wouldn’t matter soon. They’d be here in a few hours to pick her up.

The clothes she wore in the forest were beyond filthy. She sighed, and reached for the damp office clothes she had discarded a moment before. Her fingers brushed over the place on her arm where Rebecca had taken her samples - it had healed almost instantly.

There was still an entire bottle of vodka in the bag, saved from John’s place. If she healed that quickly, that Might be just enough to let her drop off to sleep without nightmares.

In the end, she was pleased to find her hypothesis had proven correct. Tucking the knife under her pillow like a talisman, she crawled on top of the covers and dropped off to sleep.

The dreams came anyhow.

---

The dying light of the day still filtered through the curtains when she started out of a deep sleep. The sudden shift left a lingering paralysis over her limbs. Marigold lay still, waiting for that last vestige to slough away as she struggled to reorient herself.

Ah, yes. The hideous nightmare of the last two days had bled out from the dreams she had had for years leading up to her capture. Not paranoia, but the actual truth of the company. And now something had ripped her out of the first sleep she had managed to get since waking up within the nightmare itself.

The forest. The feeling from the forest, that scent. It hit her hard, that sense of being hunted again. Marigold forced herself to raise her head, beginning to sit up. She looked across the room and froze.

Red, glowing eyes met hers in the darkness. Still bleary, she curled her fingers around the knife under her pillow, kicking back the blankets.

Movement flashed towards her, far too fast for her eye to track. She found herself hauled up, pressed in a punishing chokehold against a firm chest. Marigold pulled at the arm -it should have been enough - but her leverage was gone, and the chokehold tightened until her vision blurred.

A voice chuckled in her ear, deep and silken and cruelly amused. “You know, I wouldn’t have thought you’d even have the capacity to remember, or that Marcus could have been even more of a fool than we thought. This week has truly been a revelation.”

Marigold had just enough time to think I know that voice before the tyrant-class sedative pierced the side of her neck.

Then, for a time, she didn’t think anything at all.

---

Book 2 of the Calendula Chronicles, Ashes in the Fall, will commence Monday, January 30, 2023.

[likedetective]

nancy in stranger things my next venture

[the-essex-serpent-tv]

Apple TV+’s new series “The Essex Serpent” isn’t easy to explain in a quick pitch. The drama, led by Tom Hiddleston and Claire Danes, grapples with big issues, wrapped in a story of mystery and emotion that examines love in all its forms, the battle between science and faith, and so much more.

Nonetheless, Variety’s Awards Circuit Podcast asks Hiddleston to give his own synopsis, and he manages to pull it off in 35 seconds — and it’s a pretty good description that even includes the impressive phrase “Gothic opacity.”

Hiddleston spoke to the podcast about both “The Essex Serpent” and his earlier turn as the star of Disney+’s Marvel series “Loki,” as well as having a milestone birthday during the pandemic and so much more. He also took part in a quiz where the actor had to guess between the characters of Shakespeare and Marvel. Listen below!

“Loki” continued the adventures of the MCU’s most popular villain (or a Variant thereof) last June. Next month comes “The Essex Serpent,” a six-part limited series adaption of the acclaimed 2016 Sarah Perry novel, set 1893 in a small village plagued by rumors of a mythical beast.

“The Essex Serpent,” adapted by Anna Symon and directed by Clio Barnard, stars Danes stars as Cora Seaborn, a widow who moves with her son to a small village that may be haunted by this legendary beast. Hiddleston plays the town vicar, Reverend Will Ransome, who clashes with Cora over their differing beliefs.

It’s a new sort of role for Hiddleston, who plays a husband and father, a man of faith looking to protect and unite his community – rather than an agent of chaos.

“I guess maybe that’s why I was really drawn to it,” Hiddleston says. “I was drawn to him. He’s so finely drawn by Sarah Perry and Anna Symon. He seems to be kind of similar to a literary archetype – very grounded, very solid, very rational container for other people’s anxieties, someone that people lean on and depend on. But of course, he doesn’t have all the answers, and there are things he hasn’t folded into his theology and his worldview.”

The actor also selected the project specifically for the opportunity to work with Danes, who made an impact on him at a young age in Baz Luhrman’s “Romeo + Juliet.” Reflecting on how chemistry onscreen is hard to predict or define, he says, “The best acting I’ve ever done. If I’ve ever done any good acting, is because of the person I’m opposite. I truly believe that. And the generosity of another actor, an actor like Claire, who is prepared and committed to the game of the imagined world that you’re in. And that’s when that’s when it’s magical.”

Hiddleston says he’s had good luck with co-stars and chemistry and that it sometimes comes from going through a new experience together.

“I remember when Chris Hemsworth and I met for the first time, we were just at the beginning of this adventure, kind of like sitting next to each other on a roller coaster and not knowing where it was going,” he says. “Or when I met Benedict Cumberbatch for the first time we were training to ride like Calvary officers for ‘War Horse’ and horses are so honest, they don’t care who’s riding them really. So we fell off and had to learn.

Hiddleston celebrated his 40th birthday last year, a milestone that he says felt “very meaningful. It’s a midpoint, isn’t it? I remember thinking I’ll count myself fortunate if I get another 40. It definitely crystallizes things in your mind.”

And while “Loki” is a fantasy series based on a comic, the show also gave the actor time to look back on his life – literally and figuratively. In one scene, Loki watches how his life played out tragically in the prime universe.

“It was moving to do it, it was it felt very, very cathartic,” he says of shooting the scene. “Loki changed the course of my life. That moment is a fork in the road. I can’t go back there. And I don’t particularly want to.”

Variety’s “Awards Circuit” podcast, produced Michael Schneider, is your one-stop listen for lively conversations about the best in film and television. Each week “Awards Circuit” features interviews with top film and TV talent and creatives; discussions and debates about awards races and industry headlines; and much, much more. Subscribe via Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Spotify or anywhere you download podcasts. New episodes post every Thursday and Friday.

Link to the podcast: https://megaphone.link/PMC7402184966

https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/tom-hiddleston-loki-and-the-essex-serpent/id1536666553?i=1000558998767

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 1.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 1 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You knocked on the large wooden door and took a step back, hands shaking with how nervous you were. 

You were quite far from your neighborhood, and none of your friends were in town currently. So really so there was no one who could come pick you up. Plus, the thunderstorm was making things worse. Your car had broken down for no reason while you were heading back home. And you drove down this road often, to get to the other side of the town and you always, always admired this mansion - at the doorstep of which you found yourself at the moment. 

The mansion was renowned for its unusualness. It was the largest property around so definitely whoever owns it must be extremely well-off. Another reason why it was so talked about is because no one personally knew the man who owned it. People saw him once in a while, some claimed to have seen him at the library, or at the museum or at the coffee shops. He had no friends apparently, always seen alone. No one knew of his occupation, or how he was able to afford and maintain this large estate. 

Most people said he was stand-offish, or mean, or rude or arrogant. Well, whatever he was, you were about to find out in a few seconds given that you were now knocking at his front door. What if he doesn’t agree to help? Or worse, what if he’s a creepy weirdo who-

Your thoughts were cut short as the door flew open. And the man revealed himself. Your gaze locked with his and for a brief moment, it felt like time had stopped. Blue eyes. The bluest you had ever seen. Magnetic, mesmerizing. Strong jaw, broad shoulders - the man was a dream. 

I finally found you… 

For some reasons those words echoed in your head, and you felt a pressing need to say them out loud. You had to force yourself out of whatever trance you were under and come back to reality. 

You cleared your throat. “Hello Mr. Barnes. I apologize for-,”

He cut you off, abruptly. “Come on in.” he spoke with a warm smile and opened the door wider. And you found yourself under his spell just by the sound of his voice, again. 

“But Mr. Barnes you didn’t even let me-,” you realized it would be much better if you told him why you were here in the first place, you would hate to impose. 

He gave you another smile as he waited for you to enter his home, closing the door behind you. “You’re a long way from home, I figured that the only reason why you would be here at this time is because you need shelter from the terrible weather, or maybe your car broke down.” He gave you a soft look, “So which is it?” 

You looked down at your shoes now drenched by the rain, sheepishly answering, “Both actually.” You looked back up at him and finally took all of him in. You had to admit, he was just as they described him; very, very handsome.  

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. He looked like he was crafted by the gods above. His soft sweater gave him a very warm look, but his eyes - icy blue, they reminded you of glaciers and mountain tops, and snowstorms. He was the kind of man one could spend hours looking at. And the more you looked at him, the more details you picked up on. For instance, how perfect his nose was. Or how well he carried himself, or just how mature and wise his facial hair made him look. He was… oddly familiar. Maybe you had seen him at the library or something before.

He must've caught you checking him out judging by the smirk he gave you. You cleared your throat again, looking everywhere else but right at him. “I promise I’ll be gone by morning, Mr. Barnes.” 

He took a step forward and you froze in place. “Please, call me Bucky. And you can stay for as long as you need too, there’s no way I’m letting you leave until this terrible storm passes.” And just as he said that, you heard the thunder roar right above you. 

“Thank you.” you replied with a shy smile. Normally, whenever you came face to face with men this handsome, you’d turn into a nervous mess. But Bucky had a sense of familiarity with him. Warmth, comfort; you couldn’t explain it. “You have a lovely home.” you commented. 

Bucky looked right at you with a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher. Longing? Sadness? Or was it just you who was overthinking? “Thank you.” he stared at you for a few more seconds before rushing over to the coat hangers and grabbed one, holding it open for you. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot how to be a good host. We don’t get many visitors.” 

You happily accepted the coat and turned back around to smile at him. “I think you’re doing perfectly alright.” 

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something but another voice beat him to it. “Who is it? I heard someone come in. Is it-,” 

The woman with brown hair and a white apron, who suddenly emerged from one of the hallways, stopped talking the moment she saw you. Her lips parted in surprise and you could’ve sworn you heard her gasp. You assumed it was because of the odd time you showed up. 

“Oh…” she seemed surprised. “Hello miss...” her eyes searched for Bucky and the moment she found him, her eyes widened again.

Bucky spoke up. “Wanda, this is Y/N. She will be spending the night here. Could you prepare the guestroom for her please?” 

The woman, Wanda, smiled brightly and you wondered how she had this much energy at this time of the night. “Of course! Right away.” And with that, she left. Leaving you and Bucky alone again. You turned to face him again. 

“That was my housekeeper, Wanda. Her and her husband take care of the house.” He explained, and you nodded. 

“She seemed a little surprised upon seeing me. I didn’t mean to disturb your household at such a time, I’m-” 

He cut you off again, stepping closer and gently placing his cold hands on your shoulder. You shivered a little and he didn’t seem to notice. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t disturb anyone, okay?” 

His piercing blue eyes were making it hard for you to focus on what he was saying but you grasped whatever you could and nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You tried hard not to, but you couldn’t help but be all bothered by his simple touch. His very presence screamed power, in a good way. You felt safe. 

“Good. Now come on, you could use some rest.” He held your hand in his gently, and led you up the grand stairs. He took your hand in his with such ease almost like he had done so a thousand times before, and you let him. 

You took in more and more of the house as you moved upstairs. It was the right mixture between modern and vintage. Parts of the house looked like it belonged in one of the home décor magazines you were currently obsessed with, while others seemed like they were pieces of ancient manors. It was unusually, hauntingly beautiful. 

Once you entered the guest room, you felt a wave of emotions hit you right in the face. Like homesickness, but for a place you had never stepped in before until this very moment. Nostalgia, but for a moment back in time which you had never lived in. 

The room was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wooden interior, with accents of black and gold. A chandelier which reminded you of an ancient castle, and a bed which seemed fit for royalty. “I must say, you have incredible taste in interior décor.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I take it you like the room. Very well then, you’ll find everything you need in the closets and in the bathroom.” He took a step back. “And if you need anything, anything at all, just call out.” 

You giggled as he said so. “This place is massive. There’s no way you’re gonna hear me if I call out for you.” 

He let out a little laugh. “Trust me doll, I will hear you.” And with that, he left. 

You watched him as he closed the door behind him, feeling just a little more warm after that nickname. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. Well, you were weirdly comfortable here. You walked further into the room, taking in every little detail. You took off the coat Bucky gave you earlier and placed it down on one of the couches. Taking off your heels, you made your way to the bathroom and it was everything one can dream of. 

You searched the cabinets and closets and found sweatpants and t-shirts which would fit you. Grabbing a set of clothes, you hopped into the shower and forgot about your broken down car and the thunderstorm. Instead, you thought of Bucky. What a peculiar man he is; no one in the town knows where he comes from, or what he does but here you were seeking help from him, showering his bathroom. 

There was something about him, a sense of ease and warmth which many people lack when you first meet them. But Bucky was different. It almost felt like you’ve known him all your life.  

When you stepped out, all refreshed and dressed you sensed a change the moment you walked back into the bedroom. Someone was here. 

“I brought you some tea. To warm you up a little.” 

You turned around and found Bucky sat on one of the couches by the bed. You instantly smiled, instead of being startled. He was so easy to be around. 

You walked towards him. You picked up one of the cups from the coffee table and brought it up to your nose, softly blowing on it before inhaling the lovely scent. 

“It’s chamomile and lavender.” Bucky said, and you faced him with a big smile. 

“My favorite, thank you.” you smiled at the odd coincidence as you took a sip of the tea. It soothed you immediately. 

Bucky picked up his own cup and took a slow sip as he watched you intently. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.” 

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. Which then reminded you that you never actually told him your name. Or maybe you did and you forgot. 

You held your warm cup with both hands and began. You told him your name, where you’re from, where you work and a little bit about your family. You knew you shouldn’t be giving this much detail about your life to a stranger but you were currently drinking tea in his guest room wearing clothes he provided, so the least you could do is engage fully in the conversation. 

He did a little nod after each piece of information you fed him, and you found it adorable. 

“It’s your turn.” you spoke after you were done talking about yourself. 

He smiled. It was a sad smile, or so it seemed. Surely you were overthinking. “I’m quite a boring person to be honest. I work all day, and I work all night. My family is… not around so I have to handle everything. All their businesses and companies around the country.” 

“Doesn’t it get lonely here? I mean it’s a magnificent home but, to live here alone must be quite hard, no?” 

You didn’t mean to pry but the way he looked straight into your eyes made you want to know the man a little better. Why was he so calm and collected? How is he so okay with you just being in his home? Why is he so kind? He didn’t seem old, then why did he give off the vibes of being so mature and wise, like he’s lived lifetimes before this one?

“Memories can be great company.” He answered in a tone which gave away that the man had lost a lot. Perhaps a close family member? Or a friend or a spouse? He added, “And this house is full of it.” 

“You grew up here?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

He gave you that same look; sad, longing like he was desperately trying to show certain emotion but he couldn’t. 

“I moved here. With my wife.” Those words of his caused your heart to feel heavy. “But she passed, a long time ago.” The look on his face made your heart burn for some reasons. The need to comfort him took over you but you refrained from doing so, it wasn’t your place to. 

“You must’ve loved her a lot.” You didn’t ask, you stated. Because it showed. 

He had that same sad smile on his face. “She was my everything. My lifeline.” 

He sounded so broken, it hurt. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He smiled again. “You know, I like to think that the things we lose end up coming back to us, eventually. One way or another.” 

That didn’t really make sense to you right away, but it was a beautiful thought nonetheless. “That’s beautiful.” 

He stared into your eyes again, and it seemed like he was fighting something back. The need to say something perhaps. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” And just as he said that, the thunder roared again, as loud as it could. 

You stood up as he did. He said goodnight and left. And you were left standing there wondering what the hell happened in the past few minutes. His presence alone made you feel safe for some reasons. Knowing that he was just a few doors down the hallway made you less anxious. Even when you settled under the covers, it didn’t feel like a foreign bed. 

You wondered why. How could you have settled into an unfamiliar home so easily? It wasn’t weird, just surprising. 

With the help of the tea, you drifted off to sleep in no time. Dreaming about ballrooms, and kissing a man inside a beautiful mansion and… and a pair of ocean blue eyes… 

A flutter on your cheek, and you looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking down at you. “Hello sweetheart. You ready?” the man said as he offered you a red rose. 

You nodded, despite his face being quite blurry. You felt his arms around you, and you felt safe; like nothing could go wrong and this was a perfect world. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your surroundings changed and now you were at a ball, wearing a lovely rose gold gown, arms linked with the tall man. The music was unfamiliar but lovely. He twirled you around and pulled you close, your one hand carefully placed in his and the other on his shoulder. You noticed the shiny ring on your ring finger, and the wedding band on his. You smiled, realizing that this was your husband and all was well. 

Your surroundings faded again. Now you were inside your home. A beautiful home, with the fireplace warming the room you were in. Your blue-eyed husband was beside you again, the two of you sat by the fireplace and he offered you a glass of wine. You smiled, taking it from him. You felt a slight discomfort inside your mouth, around your front teeth but that was alright, it seemed like you were used to it. You brought the wine glass up to your lips, letting some of the contents into your mouth. It wasn’t wine, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

Euphoria, you felt utter euphoria as you stared into the same pair of eyes only this time they were so red, they seemed black. He reached out and held your face in place and tilted his head just a little; deepening the kiss. He nibbled on your lower lip and shoved his tongue past your lips. Your body tingled in his arms. It all felt so right and perfect, it felt like a dream. Like a dream inside a dream. 

Gentle sin, that’s what it felt like when he pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your night dress and resting on your thigh while his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hands slid into his hair naturally and he moaned into the kiss again when you tugged at his roots a little. He kissed down your neck, his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body against his. He nibbled on the skin at the side of your throat, his teeth sharp and you were sure he left marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. 

You gasped and moaned. This felt right. He pulled away after a while. He looked down at you with pink, swollen, parted lips. Slightly breathless, and his eyes showed nothing but love and passion, and a hunger like you had never seen before, but it was all familiar. His face was unclear, but you could make out certain features of his and he was oddly familiar too. 

“I love you.” He mumbled. 

You knew that voice… 

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips, his hand slipping in between your legs with no shame; his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He smiled against your lips upon feeling just how aroused you were, before he pulled away and kissed down your body. He took your sensitive nipples in his mouth. 

He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud. His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. 

Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. You felt him kiss his way down your body; from your lips all the way down to your hip bones; his lips soft and gentle on your skin. 

He placed his hands on either one of your thighs and slowly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without any hesitation. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly. 

Obscene, wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. He had dark hair you noticed. The room was getting darker and darker as well. You could see your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the large bed. 

Your body arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you when his tongue slowly circled around your sensitive clit. The pressure between your legs was building up nicely. 

With a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face without any warning. He licked you clean, then kissed his way up your body again. “You’re all mine, Y/N.” he whispered softly against your lips as he settled in between your legs again. You shuddered under him and whined against his mouth, the feeling reminding you a lot of how you shivered earlier when a pair of cold hands held you gently by the shoulder. 

Your body felt tingly as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head to look at you and you gasped quietly in surprise. It was Bucky. Although he still had dark eyes, and sharp canines? 

He didn’t give you time to think too much. You moaned out loud once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to relax your tense body. You wrapped around him perfectly. You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply while he rolled his hips against yours.  

His body felt cold. But it also felt familiar. Being so close to him felt right. 

You whimpered as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you slightly harder. He groaned right in your ear as you felt your walls wrap around him, squeezing and clenching. This felt right. 

Panting and swearing under his breath, he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed your face; all over. You felt a little bold so you hooked your legs around his waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him as your hands gripped his arms and shoulder. Your body moved against his like a rag doll. You knew, in your dream that you belonged to him, and him you. 

“I love you.” he whispered. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. If anything, you wanted more. You needed him closer. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. He growled and bit down on your shoulder as he fucked you. He was relentless, and you liked it. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as you tried to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. Your eyes watered as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again. You felt him everywhere, each nerve ending burning and tingling. 

You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. A sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning; gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Bucky... ” you sounded breathless. 

He gasped and snuggled closer to you. His eyes were back to the gentle blue again. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. I love you, Y/N.” 

You wanted to say it back. But then you woke up to a loud boom. You sat up gasping, and looking around frantically. You were sweating, but also cold. The room was dark, unlike the one in your dream earlier, which was illuminated by candlelight. It took you a little while to reorient yourself. The storm was somehow getting more and more loud and violent outside. 

And you just had a weird dream about Bucky. Which didn’t feel like a dream, but more like a memory. A memory buried so deep that it almost didn’t feel real. 

You were confused. What is the meaning of all this?

---

a/n: hi

[wooteena]

technoblade speedrunning adopting ranboo (high school edition): the fanfic

also on ao3!

hey remember this post? well i got so attatched and impatient that i wrote over 1k words for a pilot type chapter for it <3

chapter one: officer in my defense i punched that guy because he deserves it

-

Techno Blade-Minecraft would call himself smart. He got good grades without trying, learned second, then third languages with ease, read textbooks for fun, etcetera etcetera. Wisdom without experience was a rare thing to possess, especially in a high school senior but techno had it tight in his grasp, easily making him a ‘Model Student’. He understood he got unneeded attention from that, which sucked, but it was an easy trade-off to be the automatic teacher’s favourite.

But Techno was a man of wisdom, not a man of sense. So naturally, he remembered a fact about baby birds he learnt when he was six years old:

‘Classical "imprinting", as seen with for example, ducks or geese, means that the animal's instinctive programming says "the first big animal you see after hatching is your mom, follow them and look to her for food, warmth, love and learning’

Actually, Techno decided he was the man of Most Sense because at that very moment, the tallest, yet somehow weakest looking freshmen he’d ever seen was being cornered by a group of hefty looking seniors.

And the baby bird, with its innocent, scared eyes was looking right at him.

He looked around the hallway, a desperate scan for other students he could push his growing parental responsibility on to. It was a ghost town, as empty as the remakes of towns from the old west he saw on childhood school excursions.

‘Fuuuuuuuuuuck.’

Technoblade took a deep breath in through his nose, then released it out of his mouth like if he breathed hard enough, his empathy could be taken away with the non existent wind in the soul-crushing grey hallways. It obviously didn’t work because Jesus Christ that kid looked helpless.

As quickly as one could without compromising a freshmen’s still intact nose, Techno examined the seniors. They all wore the school football team’s letterman jacket (‘what is this, Heathers?’), a classic pointer for internalized insecurity, toxic masculinity and most importantly unrightfully self diagnosed Strong Guy syndrome, which meant that they definitely were only beating up a freshmen because that was the most they could actually fight. One point to Technoblade. They also were all at least a solid five inches shorter than him, which Techno would have laughed at if the situation wasn’t so dire. Point two for Technoblade.

Catching himself before letting his wandering mind think up a full five paragraph M.L.A sighted essay to why he could crush these nerds, he decided that two points was enough leverage to still crush these nerds, but with slightly less confidence.

With as much patience as he could, he slowly walked up to the group like a silent lion hunting his soon to be, very dead* (maybe not dead, *slightly bruised) prey. The baby bird, trapped in one of his prey’s chokehold, stared at him like he was a madman. Techno’s objective changed: knock out the dickhead choking a kid.

They stood in a corner, the choker in the middle, the other two blocking off the only escapes and laughing cruelly at the baby bird. Completely distracted.

Techno curled his fist, aiming to punch that asshole’s teeth in or at least break his nose. He starts to run, about five feet away from his target and oh god this is a terrible idea he does fencing not hand to ha-

BAM.

Choker’s nose made a resounding crack and fell back onto the jock on the left. Probably because it’d be ‘too gay’, or whatever, the guy sidesteps and lets a knocked out, nose broken, probably popular kid by comparing his ego to the size of his dick, fall onto the ground

The two awake bullies look between their knocked out friend, then at Techno, then at each other.

“MISS NIIIIHACHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!”

Techno knew they’d call a teacher because they’re cowards but really? Nihachu?

That lady is TERRIFYING what did he do to deserve this.

He let out a long, disappointed ‘bruh’ before with a jolt, remembering the whole reason he punched that jock in the first.

The child.

He doesn’t bother trying to pick up him up because holy hell he’s tall, but pulls one of the kid’s arms over his shoulder, and with his other arm holds their waist and sprints as fast as he can down the hall.

“What the…” murmurs the half dead lump on his back, and while Techno’s surprised his vocal chords aren’t dead? Not even a ‘thank you’? Techno thinks he should start doing charity work at this point.

He continues to run though, because he’s a generous soul, until slowing to open a door that opens the blinding sunlight of the free world outside their prison.

Despite himself, Techno lets his mouth slip into a big enough smile that actually shows his teeth because he just did that. His celebratory moment is cut off though, because the weight on his back suddenly felt even heavier and-

Oh my God the baby bird just fell asleep on me.

Am I a father now?

What do I tell Phil? Does this make him a grandfather?

I can’t just take him home.

What’s stopping you?

Oh my God, I’m a genius.

Techno may be a proclaimed genius, but he is not immune to the inherent propaganda of cute children, so he sets down the kid on the least grimey part of a battered metal bench to get his first proper look at the sleeping giant.

Apart from his injuries (a bleeding nose, bruises forming on his arms, a black eye and a red handprint on his neck) the kid looked… Weird. Techno had subconsciously noticed it while carrying him, but only now the complete oddity of him. His skin from the jaw down was a uniform, warm, dark brown, which was decidedly normal, but his face was… different. Not ugly, no, he looked average, if not perpetually awkward, even in his sleep. The right side of his face was a similar, if not slightly darker tone than the rest of his skin, but where it got weird weird was from the middle of his face and leftward, his face was pale. As pale as Techno, which is saying something because Techno himself has albinism; he has no melanin in his skin.

He found himself sympathizing for the kid again. Techno himself got bullied for his reddish eyes - a symptom of his albinism, and his naturally stark-white skin and hair. It got to the point that he dyed his hair pink, which decidedly made it worse because a guy dying his hair pink ? apparently high school treason to both students and the school rules. His bullies had a colourful range of insults, at least; Techno’s personal favourites being from after he died his hair: homophobic slurs. The teachers had constant complaints and even a couple suspensions, which didn’t stop Techno, obviously. What a wonder public school is.

So yes, Techno understood the baby bird, because despite Techno’s only weakness being himself (and apparently non-threatening freshmen?) as of now, it wasn’t like he came out of the womb a scary pink haired senior. He knew bullying like the hair dye aisle at his local department store.

He knew that helping the kid would make him more attached to the point of no return, but he’d accepted it. It felt like feeding a wild animal more food after making the mistake the first time, it’s not like it’ll get less annoying to have it following you around.

The moment Techno processed his own thought, his face blanched - somehow getting whiter despite literally being the textbook definition of a white boy.

He’d fallen into the ‘senior adopting a defenseless freshmen’ trap.

Shit.

Even more embarrassingly, this didn't deter Techno from pulling his first aid kit, for once his anxious over-packing doing some good.

-

acording to tumblr statistics, only a small percentage of people who like the post actually reblog it. so if you liked it, give it a reblog! it takes five seconds and you can always delete the reblog later.

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one with the matchmaking

My masterlist

Description | Victoria is desperate to set you and Thomas up... Might there be a spark already?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas

Word Count | 2663

Taglist (add yourself here!) | @mywritingonlyfans @damianodavide @lizstans @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @shaunthesheesh @damianodavidhands @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @solasullabarca @foryourllove @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @ginny-lily @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00

***

There had been an unspoken thing between you and Thomas from the first day you met. It was one of those right person, wrong time scenarios. Both of you were happily taken by other people, loving your partners, and leading healthy relationships. It simply hadn't been meant to be and both of you had gladly accepted it. Nothing had ever happened, despite the others insisting there must have, neither of you was like that. So you stayed friends with him, the same way you stayed friends with Victoria, Damiano, and Ethan and it didn't take long for the five of you to grow into a loving group, a chosen family. That was until both you and Thomas happened to have broken up with your respective partners within the same week. It was safe to say that it didn't take long for the meddling to start.

***

"I just think they'd make such a good couple!" Victoria said, pushing the empty beer bottles around on the table in annoyance. "They're basically made for each other."

"Leave it, Vic," Ethan said. The dark of the bar was hiding his features and the fact he was slightly rolling his eyes. "They both literally just got out of relationships, I don't think they're interested."

"But they both ended them so it's not like they've been broken up with," she insisted. "I'm sure they'll get over it quickly enough."

"Yeah I agree with Vic," Damiano added. "It's not like either of them seems all that heartbroken."

"Exactly, which is why we need to act now!"

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Ethan sighed. "Just let them figure it out on their own."

"But they're idiots! They'll never figure it out!"

Damiano couldn't help laugh out loud. He knew his friend was onto something, both Thomas and Y/n tended to be hilariously oblivious when it came to things like these.

"Maybe they just need a little push," he agreed.

"Fine." A deep sigh escaped Ethan. "But don't say I didn't warn you if it doesn't work out."

***

The moment you stepped into the vintage second-hand store you decided it was heaven on earth. It didn't take long for you to sweep through the place like a whirlwind, picking up pieces left and right, leaving Victoria and Thomas standing at the entrance still. You didn't care, this was one of your favourite places and you were not going to be held back because those two were slow. You tried on a dress that looked like an absolute mess on you and you quickly took a picture to laugh at later with the others, before trying on some trousers that you really took a liking to. You were still in them, trying to figure out if you had also grabbed a top that would match when someone knocked on the wood of the changing room. Confused and not certain if the noise was directed at you, you pulled back the curtain to come face to face with Thomas. He noticed you were in your bra before you did.

You raised your eyebrows, overly amused at how he was nervously looking around to figure out if anyone else would be able to see her, but no one seemed to be around. As he turned back, he tried not to let his gaze fall into her chest again, but failed miserably. You laughed heartily, "It's fine, stop blushing, Thomas."

He grinned, more relaxed not that he knew you didn't mind. He shouldn't, this being far from the first time he'd seen you like this.

"Vic told me to give you this dress to try on."

You looked at the piece of fabric he handed you, a gorgeous, velvety black, knee-high dress with a dangerous slit and a plunging neckline. It wasn't something you would have chosen yourself, but you trusted Vic's judgment. The curtain was quickly closed again, removing the trousers you had already decided on and slipped on the dress. It fell in a much nicer way than you had anticipated, easily smoothing itself over your curves and settling perfectly in place. The mirror agreed with your sentiment - you looked gorgeous. Okay, so this dress would do with a bit more makeup and without a bra, but it was a no-brainer that you were going to buy it.

You ripped open the curtain, now facing both of your friends. As soon as Vic saw you, she seemed as smitten with it as you were. Thomas looked stunned in his own way but stayed quiet.

"Fuck, I knew that was your dress!" Victoria shouted, obviously proud of herself for picking it out.

"Where am I ever going to wear this?" You asked, spinning to muster your reflection once again.

"When I take you out tomorrow night," Vic grinned. "There's a gorgeous new restaurant in town but it's fancy fancy, so this will do just fine."

You couldn't help but squint your eyes at her through the mirror. Her suggestion sounded just fine, but the way her eyes flickered made you feel like there was something more to the story.

***

"Wait, so how will you going out with her to dinner help, exactly?"

"Oh, Damiano, stop being so dumb. Obviously, I won't go."

"I don't get it."

"I'll have some sort of last-minute emergency, and since both of you will be out of the house, Thomas will have to step in."

Ethan sighed, shaking his head at his friend's plan.

"Why do you have to meddle so much, Vic?"

"Because those two don't get it. But once they see each other all dressed up, romantic dinner, candles, good wine, it'll click."

"Whatever you say."

***

"Oh my god, Y/n, I'm so sorry!" Victoria burst into your room, Chili cradled in her arms and an apologetic look on her face. "I know we said we'd go to that fancy restaurant tonight, but Chili's been coughing and the vet told me to come in immediately."

You side-eyed the little white dog, looking as happy as can be, but there was no reason for you not to trust Victoria. Right? You briefly petted Chili's head.

"Don't worry about it, we can always go some other time."

"No!" Her outburst surprised you. "I mean, it's so difficult to get a reservation there and you should wear your dress out. Damiano and Ethan are out, but I'm pretty sure Thomas is free, please ask him, he'd probably love to go with you!"

You wanted to scold Victoria, tell her this wasn't happening, tell her you'd be fine just staying home, but she didn't give you a chance to do any of it. Instead, she left your room, immediately shouting for her bandmate. It was the reason you found yourself at a candlelit dinner with the blond man mere hours later.

"You look amazing, by the way," Thomas said. Well, he actually kind of mumbled it into his pasta rather than proudly state it. You felt like blushing.

"So do you, love. But you know I love you in a suit."

Your eyes met, just for a moment, before both of you found yourselves awkwardly staring back at your plates again. You didn't know why you were behaving like this, or why he was, you could only attribute it to the fact that this felt like an overly romantic date and the waiter had referred to you as his girlfriend multiple times already. Neither of you had corrected him. You hadn't minded the single rose that had been placed between you on the table, accompanied by a little wink and a smile by the waiter.

"You know, you make a lousy boyfriend, not even bringing me flowers for our date, " you teased, watching as a shy smile appeared on Thomas' face, his eyes travelling down the table for a second before looking at you again with more than a twinkle.

"I did take you to the nicest restaurant in town, surely that gets me some points?"

The giggle bubbled over your lips easily. Everything came easy with Thomas. He made the troubles disappear with one look, one touch of a hand, a single word, a gesture, his existence. He was your own personal cure to everything.

***

"No, I'm telling you, it worked," Victoria excitedly gasped and she gathered in the kitchen with Damiano and Ethan, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. "You should have seen them when they came back!"

"Did you actually wait up for them?" Ethan asked, slightly disbelieving, slightly amused.

"Well, they didn't know obviously! I just cracked my bedroom door open a bit. But they were all giggly and happy and they hugged when they said goodnight!"

"Vic, we all hug all the time," Damiano threw in.

"Not the way they did. I'm serious, this is working and you'll see soon enough!"

"So what's the next idea then?"

"I'm... I'm not quite sure," she admitted. "But I'll figure it out and it'll be perfect."

***

The thunderstorm hadn't been predicted by any of the weather channels. You found yourself standing in front of the patio doors with Thomas, watching the heavy rain disturb the surface or the pool, trees swaying in the wind, a flash of light illuminating the garden in regular intervals. It had only been the two of you home when it had started, everyone else out to meet friends or sitting in a bar with a drink in their hand. You had been having a lazy day, unwilling to leave the house at all, while Thomas had slept for so long no one had bothered trying to wake him so he could join in on plans.

"Do you want to compare our favourite records?"

You had been so focused on the happenings outside of the glass that you almost flinched in surprise at his question. Still, a slight smile, the right kind of look, and you were nodding enthusiastically. Hasting up the stairs, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and the shirt you usually slept in, you went through the little collection you had brought to the summer house, already hearing the first notes of Led Zeppelin's Black Dog echoing downstairs. With a smile on your face, you grabbed a few records and bolted back down to Thomas.

"I still prefer Led Zeppelin III," you giggled, only to be greeted with Thomas' shocked face. "Anything that has Immigrant Song on it is a hit, really."

"Blasphemy! Nothing tops IV, and you clearly have no taste."

"You clearly have no taste considering you think anything Led Zeppelin has put out is better than Fleetwood Mac's Rumours." You barely waited for the first song of Thomas' album of choice to finish playing before interrupting it with the sound of Second Hand News.

It didn't take long for the conversation to get heated. Still, you kept playing your record in the background, effortlessly dodging his effort to change it, even though the whole thing had been his idea in the first place. He was still complaining, explaining, talking to a wall basically, as you danced around the living room, as the music flowed through you, singing along, thunder only happens when it's raining, as the weather outside did its worst.

"I just think it's much too sad, most of it," Thomas finally concluded.

"Doesn't that just make it so beautiful though?"

"No, it just makes me sad," he pouted.

"Maybe you just never listened to it the way you should. In the arms of someone you love."

A heartbeat passed as both of you looked at each other, but then your smile returned and you motioned for him to get on the sofa with you, lying on your side as he slowly but surely moved in front of you. Your arms wrapped around him, spooning him, making you feel safer than you ever have as Songbird played in quiet tones.

Your nose buried itself in his hair, letting his smell fill your every pore, taking over your whole being as you pressed into him, singing along in nothing but a whisper.

"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before."

***

"Guys, guys, guys, look at that!" Victoria called out to her friends as they quietly made their way into the house. "I knew it would be such a good idea to leave them alone in the house!"

"Vic, it's not like you made a thunderstorm come along, I'm pretty sure this was not your doing for once," Damiano whispered.

"Doesn't matter! Look at them spooning! We're on the right way, guys!"

"We're not on any way," Ethan threw in. "You keep trying to meddle and the two of them are going their own ways."

"They just need another push. I just gotta think of something."

***

"Hey, they let you feed the goats here!" Victoria squealed as everyone around her let out a groan. The zoo was bustling with people, the five friends surrounded by families, and Vic easily fell in line with the children's excitement.

"Vic, I really really don't like goats," you complained. "I'd rather not get their attention because I got food in my hands."

"Fine. How about you go see the owls over there with... Thomas, and I go feed some adorable goats with Ethan and Damiano?"

The both of you allowed yourselves to be pushed away easily, chuckles on your faces as you walked away from the rest of the group, dodging running toddlers as you went.

"So, this is a set-up, huh?" Thomas grinned next to you as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Oh, as if Victoria has been doing anything these past weeks without hidden intentions." You let yourself mold into Thomas' side, leaning in closer until your bodies were touching as much as physically possible. "She's not half as subtle about this as she thinks. I'm sure she's watching right now."

You didn't turn around, but you felt her eyes on the pair of you, watching your every move and trying to figure out what was going on between the two of you.

"Do you wanna give her a show?" You playfully pinched his site, looking at him from the corner of your eyes just to see a smile appear on his face that was surely mirroring yours. "Make out a little bit?"

"Wouldn't that give it away?" He stopped walking, now wrapping both of his arms around you as you leaned on his chest, looking up at him.

"I'm sure she'd still think it's just a first step in the right direction."

Not waiting for his response, your hand reached up to his face, slowly stroking along the soft skin of his cheek, thumb running over his lower lip as his smile grew, then reaching around, tangling them into his hair and pulling him down to you. His lips met yours in a sigh, warm and lovely, a tingling feeling spreading through you immediately, pressing yourself into him. You could feel his thumb stroking your back ever so slightly as he held you. He wanted more, slowly moving his lips, trying to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. Close enough to still feel his breath on you, close enough that whispering would be enough.

"Now, we don't want Vic to figure it all out immediately," you grinned before putting more distance between the two of you. He groaned, making you giggle, before taking your hand and pulling you along.

"How much longer are you planning to keep this up?" Thomas asked, shaking his head, but still amused. "We've been together for two weeks."

"Pretty sure she already bought tickets for the cinema for me and her for Wednesday... which she'll inexplicably have no time for so you'll have to come along, obviously. I can give you a hickey in the dark theater, she'll freak."

Thomas laughed out loud, pressing a single kiss to the top of your head.

"Fine. One more date, that's it?"

"One more date."

[swimmingleo]

Changes: or to take the higher ground before it's too late

I'm going to be real here folks, I cry ugly tears to this song. Bad.

Changes is a song on Cam's album "The Otherside". It's country, it's folk and it's an album a bit influenced by changes in Cam's life (a change of label, personal life). She collaborated with Harry on the song Changes, as she opened for him on a venue and was already working with Tyler Johnson.

From what I gathered: Harry sent her the demo of the song, implying he made most of the writing on this one. What I'm basing this claim on is her interview for Rolling Stones (read it here):

I heard [the demo] and was just like, “Oh, this ache to outgrow something that you don’t want to outgrow!” It felt so good. I normally don’t take outside songs [...]

‼️DISCLAIMER‼️when analysing this song, I'm gonna go from the idea of it being written with a queer mindset (how surprising of me). Cam rendered the song beautifully and it is very much her own, but I believe Harry's input is consequential. After all that's his lil whistle and cute fishsona in the MV.

Sad queer analysis ahead.

Let's analyse the lyrics first:

There is a town

Somewhere down a country road

The speaker describes the town to us, from memory, from experience. "There it is, down the road, can you picture it ?"

I see it now

I take it everywhere I go

The speaker doesn't currently live in the town, they're on the move (nice throwback to the coutry road). But despite all the travelling, they realize the sedentary smalltown never leaves them. It's part of them. It left a mark on them.

The river sways, I can almost hear it now

As if to say, "You're not the only one who wants a way out"

The town is so real to the speaker they can sense it, eyes and ears. But it gets a bit dark: the river sways like it's trying to leave its bed. The river is envious of the speaker who managed to leave. The town is so toxic even nature wants to get away from it. Or the speaker resents the town so bad that they project their own resentment on the river.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like I don't know you anymore

I memorize those roads

This is the call for the speaker to leave for good. Their motive doesn't seem to be ambitious or anything grand. They leave because they apprehend a feeling. Apprehending a feeling, something that may not even happen, is the way of an anxious person. Anxiety is the motive of their departure. However, they still memorize the roads leading to the town, just in case. Perhaps one day they'll come back.

Somewhere out in the big wild country

Someone's fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like their hearts won't ever break

Suddenly it's about love ! Young love, one that is lived in the small compartment of a car, somewhere hidden and safe in the big wild country. As if the countryside was unexplored and threatening.

God bless the young hearts sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with their friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

The speaker looks at the youth with tenderness, wishing them the best. But once again, they're not in the town in the present time, they don't see the youngsters fooling around, they can only guess from first-hand experience. And it's very specific: falling in love, getting drunk with friends and thinking everything's gonna be easy like that forever until it's not and heartbreak ensues.

From there I hop in with the raw queer theme of those lyrics. It started by falling in love and it ended up in a heartbreak. In between, the speaker got drunk for the first time with their friends, people they trusted enough to let go a little, but in the end everything changed. Why ? Alcohol makes you forget about code of conduct, how you're supposed to behave. It makes you say or do things you might not have done sober.

We can interprete this chorus as the beginning of the end for the speaker. It's the only part of the song evocating the past, and it's fun and easy, but it's also where things started to get bad the way they are in the present. Something might have happened that first time the speaker got drunk and it marked the end of innocence and careless childhood, and it probably has to do with love as no other factor is provided apart from falling in love and heartbreak.

They never leave

They're all havin' babies now

Watchin' daytime TV

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

They. With Harry, it's always You, Me, and They. They are having babies, all of them, like it's not a very difficult thing to do, it's just natural. They have the leisure of the day, not a thing to worry about, if not gossip. It's not implied anymore, the small town is downright cruel. Gossip fuels it, but on behalf of someone else, and that someone is most definitely the speaker who left and who describes its inhabitants in the most mundane way, perhaps with a hint of contempt. The speaker seems bitter.

So, I go

'Cause I don't wanna feel like you don't know me anymore

Don't recognize my face

Reprise of the pre-chorus except now, the speaker provides another reason for their departure. Not only they feared they wouldn't know the town anymore, they also feared being seen as a stranger. It's not like the speaker actually changed physically: but it might as well feel like it. Again, apprehension, anguish. As implied in the chorus, things changed to the point where the speaker feels they would seem like a whole another person to the rest of the town, a stranger, a threat to the integrity of the conservatives. So they leave before this shift in perception can happen.

There ain't nothing here for me anymore

They say they don't hear from me anymore

And I don't wanna hear it anymore

The town is not outwardly hostile. It's still the town that saw the speaker as a kid. The town doesn't understand why the speaker left, but the speaker won't give in and get in touch. They want to be as far away as possible, until they don't hear the questions, the river, everything. It's almost like the speaker doesn't carry the town in their heart at all. They want to forget it all, and it hurts everytime the town tries to lure them back in. The way Cam sings it is painful to me man

Somewhere out in the big wild country

I was fallin' in love in a backseat

Givin' it away

Like my heart won't ever break

Had such a young heart sippin' cheap wine

Gettin' drunk with my friends for the first time

Thinkin' nothing's gonna change

'Til everything changes

Yeah, just the confirmation of the chorus being the speaker's experience. I went ahead and assumed it was already lol but it's like a plot twist effect. It's dramatic. It's a personal song to someone.

TO MAKE IT SHORT to me this song is intense and very in touch with the queer experience. Though it describes a specific situation, it is surprisingly not that detailed or full of metaphors the way Harry often writes: this town could be literally any smalltown in the countryside. The backseat could be the one of any car, cheap wine is something any teen can afford. I like to think Harry wrote it for himself but is also aware so many people went through the same thing, and still will. I have to admit I'm heavily biased writing this, as the experience of a queer kid struggling to find their place in a well settled smalltown is familiar.

GETTING DRUNK AND QUEER IDENTITY is an analogy Harry already used in Fine Line when he sang "We'll get the drinks in so I'll get to thinking of her". To drink is to let go, to unveil the most subconscious aspects of yourself you might not want to deal with otherwise. You don't care about judgement and you get to explore those parts freely. In Changes, this is the last memory they recall before stating the changes and their departure. Perhaps getting drunk for the first time would be when they realized they're queer. Or acted upon it, causing their little world to shake. They chose to leave before it eventually wouldn't feel like a choice anymore. There is no life for people like them in a cruel smalltown.

SMALLTOWN BOY

This song reminds me an awful lot of Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat. The song is about a queer boy having to leave the smalltown where he grew up because of persecutions and no future prospects.

Mother will never understand why you had to leave, Smalltown Boy

They say they don't hear from me anymore, Changes

But the answers you seek will never be found at home, the love that you need will never be found at home

There is nothing here for me anymore

Other people not understanding why they leave. People who can't truly empathize even when they mean no harm. They would never understand the speaker's departure, because those people get to find love and have babies and live a peaceful life in the countryside.

You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down

Livin' off the gossip of a cruel small town

Yeah yeah. I really struggle with just seeing this song as nostalgia when such harsh words are being used. I do believe there is a part of fondness for that town, that countryside setting and the early days. But it's not all tender memories.

CHANGES AND ERODA

Of couuuurse we all noticed the adorable purple fish with the pearl necklace. It represents Harry, no question, as it whistles Harry's part. And of couuuuurse we all made the link with the erodian fish, and some even noticed they formed the bluegreener pair when their colors are inverted.

It makes sense for those fishes to be connected with this interpretation of Changes. Both works are about a small town, lost in the nature, where the people are watching, aware of everything that isn't normal, that is peculiar. The early life of the peculiar boy is similar in every way to the early life of the speaker in Changes. The fish in Adore You grows too big for the island and has to leave, and though Eroda makes amends with the peculiar boy, he leaves as well because his future, his fulfilment, is somewhere else. So does the speaker in Changes.

IN CONCLUSION

The more I write posts like this, the more endeared I am by Harry's world. How Harry writes for himself, but also for other people with songs like this. How nature finds its way in all that he does. How grounded he is, how he doesn't seem to forget where he came from. It really is such a rare thing to see in a mainstream popstar's writing and art. How can someone say he sold his soul to LA is beyond me

[keingleichgewicht]

WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............  readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!) 

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and: 

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

[heliads]

Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part Four)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

part three / series masterlist / part five

consider: secret dating but fake dating at the exact same time (ily @underc0vercryptid​ ty for the suggestion :))

Jesper’s feet flash underneath him. He’s running, faster than he has in a while. His breath comes sharp in his lungs, a silent promise to himself that he won’t be caught, not today. The flagstones are far beneath him as he runs along the roofline, but he manages to keep his distance. Maybe Jesper has more in common with the Wraith than he’d first thought.

Jesper turns his attention back to the roof he’s currently heading down, and feels a slight twinge of panic start to rise within him. He’s running out of shingled space, and the gap between houses is approaching faster than he’d like. Jesper’s eyes narrow, his hands tap once and twice at his pearl-handled revolvers, and then he makes the jump.

He hits the next house with a significant impact, one that knocks the air for his lungs for a second before he manages to swallow the jolt and keep moving. Jesper knows this part of town, knows the way the houses curve and turn as they twist down the narrow sidestreets. If he darts across this opening, down this corner of the roof, then there’s a fire escape off the back, one that empties into a nearby alleyway.

A stolen pocket watch dangles at Jesper’s side; he checks it with a furrow of his brow. He’s running on borrowed time, a moment or so too slow. He sets his jaw with a determined tilt, running even faster until he’s sure he’s going to slip and fall. Then again, he just might manage to pull this off. Jesper has had plenty of practice over the last week.

A few more seconds of running, and then Jesper is jumping again. He hangs for a moment in the air, arms rising involuntarily as he falls. Then his heels hit the fire escape with a thunk and he’s down, twisting himself over the rails to quicken his journey to the ground. He’s clear of the fire escape now, and loses himself into the mess of alleys that crowd the streets of Ketterdam, sprawling out in an untidy heap like the last remnants of a spiderweb on an abandoned window.

He crosses over one street, two, then ducks under a faded and scrappy awning to find himself in an opening in the alleyways, a back end that nobody checks except the Dregs. He’s back on safe ground, both literally and figuratively. Jesper lets out a sigh of relief, checking the liberated pocket watch once more. Right on time. Even Kaz Brekker would be impressed.

There’s a derisive snort from behind him, and Jesper’s head shoots up in a flash.

“You know, I don’t think you have to go this hard for a practice run.” Jesper straightens up, sauntering over to Y/N with a grin fit to kill. “And why is that, Tidemaker? Maybe I’m just having fun.” Y/N raises an eyebrow at this casual confidence. “Do you always get this sure of yourself after every run? Maybe it’s not so bad after all.”

Jesper leans down, stealing a kiss and swooping away before Y/N has time to think on it. “Maybe not? I’m excellent, and I’m making sure I’m excellent for this heist. We’ll have to be careful, you know. And when am I not careful?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, although her smile deceives her challenging expression. “When we nearly got caught against the wall of the Crow Club two weeks ago? When you had your hands on my dress and-”

Jesper kisses her, both because he can and because the flush in Y/N’s cheeks renders her unable to finish the sentence. “What was that, love? Talking about my excellence? Anyways, we might not be as careful as we could be, but that just makes it fun.” Y/N hums quietly, the sound deep in her throat. “Maybe. Does the fun not extend to spontaneity in heists?” Jesper groans, reaching into his coat to flip his revolver back and forth out of habit from the mention of the heist. “Try telling Kaz Brekker that you’re not following his plans. It’s not exactly a pleasant experience.”

Jesper’s fingers tighten over his revolver as he remembers the meeting of a week ago. Kaz had called him to his office yet again, and Jesper’s pulse had raced at the sight of the maps and documents littering his desk. Another heist, another escapade, another chance for bullets to fly and for Jesper to finally have a bit of fun. 

Kaz had folded his hands over his crow’s head cane. “We’re breaking into a mercher’s house.” Jesper had raised an eyebrow. “Joeri ter Steege again? Saints, this guy doesn’t know when to give up.” Kaz chuckled. “No, not Joeri. This will make ter Steege seem like a pleasant memory. We’re taking on Pekka Rollins.”

Jesper had known even from that first mention of the gang boss that this heist wasn’t going to be easy. Whenever Pekka Rollins’ name came up, Kaz got a look in his eyes, a dangerous look that only came out when bones would be broken and screams would rend the night. Brekker was gone, replaced by Dirtyhands, the boy who would do anything to get what he wanted. Blood would be shed in the Barrel, likely sooner than expected.

Kaz had cleared this throat, the sound like rough stones grinding underneath a carriage wheel. “Rollins has a mercher in his pocket. His name is Arnout Hul, and he’s got ties to banking as well as trade. He’s the perfect puppet for Pekka’s strings. Right now, Pekka wants him because Arnout has a list of names, a list that just might correspond to the Council of Tides.” Jesper let out a low whistle. “I thought the Council of Tides never revealed their identities?”

Kaz gave a tense shrug. “That’s what we thought. Could be nonsense, could be a lead. I need you to find out. Arnout Hul is hosting a party in about a week and a half. You and L/N will enter as guests, Inej and I will circle around back. You two will be getting the names, we’ll be on another tangent.” Jesper had nodded, accepting the map of Hul’s house without another word. He’s run with the Dregs long enough to understand something: if Kaz Brekker doesn’t tell you the details of a mission, it’s for the best. He won’t tell you no matter how much you question him, so why waste the breath to ask?

Normally, Jesper would have no problem going with Y/N to the party. It’s an excuse to act like lovesick fools and drink plenty of expensive liquor, what could be wrong with that? It’s the second part of the playacting that bothers him: namely, the escape. It’ll be easy enough to slip away from the party and into Arnout Hul’s office, but the chances of them returning will be significantly lower. Most likely, they’ll have to make a quick exit from there, especially with whatever Kaz and Inej are doing added to the mix.

That’s why Jesper’s been running the rooflines, making sure he’s ready to escape when necessary. The rooftops in this corner of the Barrel are similar in layout to those near Hul’s mansion, give or take a few feet. Y/N had raised an eyebrow at this when she first heard of his practice runs. “If it’s off, with some jumps bigger or smaller, won’t you get confused when we actually have our lives on the line?” Jesper had dismissed her questions with a trademark wink. “Some are a little off, but if you average them they’ll all be the same. Yes, that is how it works. I’ve done something like this before. Somewhat.”

The Y/N in front of him has now become accustomed to Jesper’s plans, and just watches with a grin as he taps the stolen pocket watch. “How was your timing this go around?” Jesper flashes her a grin. “Right on the dot. It was spotless.” Y/N steps closer, letting her fingers linger on his hand, the lapel of his coat. “I’m fairly sure I saw you stumble on one of the jumps.” Jesper takes her hand, stopping its climb and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “You were watching me? I’m touched.”

Y/N snorts. “I was watching for weaknesses. It’s not like that.” Jesper cocks an eyebrow. “I’m sure it wasn’t. Was that why you were waiting for me like a blushing schoolgirl?” When Y/N opens her mouth to protest, Jesper closes it with a kiss. Saints, he likes riling her up. Makes it that much more fun to kiss her senseless.

Jesper stares up at the mercher’s mansion. He’s broken into plenty of these woefully wealthy houses over his time with the Dregs, stolen and blackmailed and worked hard to bring down even more. It feels strange to now be walking into one as an esteemed guest, one with a pretty girl on his arm. The girl in question turns to him now, a smile flickering over her lips at the sight of his reluctance to enter the building.

“We do have to go in at some point, right?” Jesper forces a smile. “Of course we do. Just, uh, admiring the view.” Her gaze softens, and she leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. Now, come on- I intend to be shown off to all the attendees.” Jesper can’t help but laugh at that. For some reason, this small joke is enough to convince him to escort Y/N up the wide colonnade and into the main foyer of the mansion. It’s been decorated extravagantly, if lacking a little in taste, and the entire spectacle could take your breath away.

Jesper and Y/N mingle throughout the crowd, doing their best to seem like normal, law-abiding citizens of Kerch. Jesper leans close to Y/N, whispering something in her ear like a flirty compliment. “I think I pickpocketed that guy a month ago.” Y/N laughs, the sound effortless. More than a couple unpartnered mercher’s sons look over at her in unabashed longing. She whispers in turn to him, careful not to let anyone overhear. “I drowned that one’s office. Hundreds of documents, gone. He’s cripplingly in debt now because all of his stocks are waterlogged and useless.”

Jesper has to try his utmost to stop from laughing. “You know, I think you’re the only girl I’ve ever met who can keep one-upping me on crimes.” Y/N tosses a glance his way, easy and full of secrets he could only hope to keep. “That’s why you love me, isn’t it?” Jesper feels like his heart has been shot through with bullets. It is, more than she could ever know. He could love her every second of every day, and it would never be enough. He loves her more than anything he’s known before.

However, they’re on a mission, so he can’t exactly burst forth with poetic confessions. Instead, he keeps his tone light. “Of course it is. I wouldn’t love just anyone, would I?” He can only hope that this brief statement will be enough. Looking at Y/N, though, at the light shining behind her eyes, he has a feeling that she knows what he means. She understands him, and knows exactly what he isn’t saying and what he wishes he could. Jesper doesn’t think he’s ever had anyone else like this, someone who can send him a single glance and say a thousand words in the time it takes for their eyes to meet. 

An orchestra begins to play, and the couples start to migrate towards the center of the room. Jesper extends a hand to Y/N, who takes it. He spins her once before assuming the proper form, footsteps in tandem as they move throughout the dance. Y/N raises an eyebrow at him. “Since when have you known how to waltz like a mercher?” Jesper smiles like a renegade. “Since I knew I would be dancing with you.”

Y/N leans forward, lips ghosting over his. She doesn’t kiss him, though, just whispers something in the heated stillness. “I can see the door to his office. It’s down the hall to our left.” Jesper groans. “You’re sure we can’t stay a little longer?” His hands slide down to her hips, nestling there in the fabric. She grins, although he can tell from the slight intake of her breath that it’s not an easy choice. “Afraid so, Fahey. We’ve got a deadline to meet.”

Right now, Jesper is willing to curse all the Saints and Kaz Brekker that he has to leave this dance and let Y/N out of his arms, but his girl isn’t wrong- they have to be in the office and out in a short matter of time. If they miss the cutoff time, Jesper has no idea what will happen. Kaz and Inej are somewhere in this building, and Jesper has no doubt that they’re doing something that has the potential to alert a lot of guards to their presence.

Most eyes are trained on the dancing couples in the ballroom, so it’s fairly easy for Jesper and Y/N to slip from the room, shoes clicking on the tiles of the empty halls. The noise and laughter of the gala disappears behind them the further they stray from the gathering. At last, they spot the office, which is guarded by a duo of tall, broad-shouldered thugs in uniform. Jesper waits until the music reaches a particularly loud pitch, then reaches out, knocking one of the guards unconscious in a swift motion. 

Y/N reaches her hand towards the other one, directing a stream of water to flow from a nearby flower pot into the man’s mouth and nose, drowning him instantly. She holds the water there for a second longer, watching with a cool certainty as the man struggles, then releases her hold as the man crumples to the ground. He’s still breathing, at least for now. Y/N looks back to Jesper, as if daring him to be alarmed, but if she’s looking for fear, she’ll find none with him. Jesper happens to have a thing for dangerous women. It’s gotten him in trouble before, but it just makes him fall even harder for Y/N.

They open the door with a key from a ring on a guard’s belt, moving as quietly as possible. Kaz believed that the list of names would be in a safe on one of the mercher’s shelves, which they locate quickly. Jesper hovers before it, doing his best to remember everything Kaz had told him and everything he’d taught himself about picking locks. He hesitates a second, then twists his hand, reaching his consciousness out into the metal and the workings of the safe. The lock clicks open, and Jesper smirks.

There’s a single envelope resting in the safe, marked with a bloodred seal that Jesper recognizes. Kaz had pointed it out to them earlier, saying that the list of names would be marked with it. Jesper snatches up the envelope, pocketing it in a recess of his coat . He nods at Y/N, who begins to prop up the guards at the door. Hopefully, they’ll just think they drank too much and nodded off. Jesper locks the safe and door behind them, and they slip back out into the hall.

They’ve barely turned the corner when Jesper realizes his mistake. They’ve spent too long in the office, and the guests have all filed away into another part of the mercher’s mansion. Jesper and Y/N seem conspicuously lost to the squadron of guards marching towards them. Jesper feels panic rising in his chest. The guards are around the corner at the far side of the hall, about to discover him and Y/N and wonder why they’re not with the rest of the partygoers.

Jesper fishes around for an excuse, but none rise to his lips. Frantically, he turns to Y/N, who has his same panic in her eyes. “What do we do?” She hisses, and Jesper gestures towards the wall. “We pretend we were distracted.” Y/N nods once, understanding. She pulls the neckline down from her dress, letting the fabric pool around her collarbone. Jesper pushes her against the wall, letting his hands creep to her hips and up her dress. This might be a ruse to convince the guards, but Jesper can’t exactly pretend that it’s hurting him to let his lips linger on her throat, the space behind her ear, her lips which open with a sigh.

There’s a coughing sound behind them, and Jesper lets himself straighten up in feigned embarrassment. The guards are looking definitively uncomfortable. “The rest of the party has, uh, moved to the receiving hall, if you’d like to join them.” Jesper flashes them a grin, helping Y/N to readjust her dress. “Of course, officer. Thanks for the tip.” He offers Y/N a hand, guiding her past the soldiers and into the halls once more.

He doesn’t dare speak until they’re far away from the soldiers, then turns to her with a sigh of relief. “Thank the Saints, I thought we were done for.” Y/N laughs at that, the sound a pretty call in the dark. Jesper almost wishes the guards would come back so he’d have an excuse to kiss her like that again. “Well, it wasn’t the worst of alibis.” Jesper smirks at her words. “I wouldn’t mind using it again.”

They’re almost out of the building when Jesper hears the alarms suddenly raised across the mansion. He curses under his breath. Y/N turns to him. “Kaz and Inej. They must have finished their side mission.” Jesper nods, considering the rows of doors before him. “Here. It’ll lead to a side exit.” They run through the halls, not bothering to conceal the loud echoes of their steps. They dart around carriages and into the neighbouring streets, through twisting alleys. Jesper feels a rush of gratitude for all the time he’d spent navigating the rooflines and escape opportunities. Finally, all his practice runs are paying off.

Jesper can hear the shouting of guards behind them, but he and Y/N are too far away for the uniformed men to do anything to them. Jesper takes one last turn, landing them solidly in Barrel territory, then lets himself slow to a stop. His breath is coming hard in his chest, but the adrenaline rush pounding through his veins is something else altogether. He’s feeling powerful, like he might do anything tonight. And, as he looks back at Y/N, who’s regarding him with the same devil-sharp grin, he might be willing to make a dangerous mistake.

Jesper is not sure when he decides to kiss her again, only that he doesn’t ever want to stop. He’s been forced to act polite all night with the merchers, but he can finally kiss her like a criminal, someone who doesn’t have to play by the rules. He can still feel his heart hammering in his chest, but he doesn’t intend to let it stop. They’ve escaped, haven’t they? Why not celebrate?

series tag list: @kaqua​

[mountain-man-cumeth]

How would you rewrite Muriel’s route?

This is the 3rd question I got with similar vibes so imma begin by saying that I am not a writer. I am a reader, a decent one, but I’m not the idea guy. I will try, though, since it seems like people are interested for some reason.

First of all I'd make some baseline changes to set the backstory proper;

Muriel chose the mantle of Lucio's executioner willingly, him and Asra had no other means to survive so they willingly worked as indentured servants under Lucio. He reasoned with himself thinking these are bad people and that he has no other skills to offer. (There might be a threat on Lucio's part that they can be replaced, he doesn't have to had given a villain speech for the implication. He is a rich tyrant and they are street kids, it the service they provide isn't up to par Lucio can easily look for alternative options.) Let me be clear, Muriel was not a gladiator. Gladiators are compensated generously for the entertainment they provide and often due to the amount of investment made on them, fighting to death wasn't a common occurrence. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Muriel, or rather the Scourge was well known and probably liked by the crowd, there's literally no reason for Lucio to utilize him otherwise. He wants people to enjoy the show, if everybody hated Muriel what use is he to Lucio?

Kokhuri are alive. The tribe had to relocate but they left Khamgalai to tend to the graves. They are nomadic and matriarchal people who likely don't adhere to mother-father-child kind of European family structure. The children are raised communally.

Muriel's curse has nothing to do with myrrh, there's a rune that can counter it and only he knows how to make it, he figured it out by himself for Asra. Any magic that can nullify a spell by Major Arcana is no doubt strong as fuck.

I'd start similar to main 3, MC is tasked to find Lucio's murderer. They find Muriel's brush or loincloth or whatever early on which leads them to the forest but because of the protective spells and the curse they get lost. They ran into Muriel or Inanna and she leads them to Muriel hunched over the corpse. They try to help, like the canon, and have a brush with Lucio's goat ghost. They tell him they were looking for the Scourge and Muriel says there's no Scourge here.

The day after they forget about Muriel but remember the rest and relay that information to Asra, who gets agitated by Lucio's return. He thinks Lucio is here for MC's body but doesn't explain anything, instead begs them to leave town until he figures something out.

They go to see Muriel and he reluctantly agrees to accompany them to the outskirts of the forest, on Asra's request.

Some point on their road trip Asra water-calls them to inform them that Lucio is looking for hearts and the Magician (or whoever else Asra consulted) implied they might find answers South. MC still doesn't know anything except maybe some comments Muriel could have made that painted Lucio in a bad light but they decide to investigate regardless. Muriel opposes, eventually caves (either thanks to MC or Asra). He lets out that he's been tailing MC on Asra's behalf for years so it shouldn't be that much different.

They go from town to town, MC helps Muriel ease into dealing with people again and it's easier since nobody knows jack about Scourge. They learn that he enjoys card games and collecting trinkets from different cultures. He might even get a little too enthusiastic about plants and gives random advice to a gardener.

We might learn here that Muriel doesn't like feeling that he's on a display or that he's performing. He prefers to lay low and blend in, not necessarily completely shut off the world.

They run into Morga(maybe they encounter raiders or a barfight or something alike), who's also been tracking Lucio. She proposes to work together. She berates Muriel for being a coward and convinces him to fight as that's all he's good for. (I think it's better if MC trains on magic rather than archery, I'm seeing alot of disabled MCs.)

She tries to train them but Muriel doesn't respond well to fighting and eventually Morga leaves. Valdemar or Vulgora catches them, Lucio's still trying to get MC's body. They escape just barely, MC gets hurt, Muriel beats himself up over it, some angst some fluff, you know the drill. Maybe he has a panic attack because panic attacks are usually not as on the nose as "Oh No I Gotta Fight Someone With a Knife". Looking for a shelter and aid, they find a cottage which turns out to be Khamgalai's. She helps them out, teaches Muriel how to heal using the techniques of their clan, I assume MC helps since they know some restorative spells too. She tells Muriel his family sent him away when they got ambushed so he wouldn't have to live on the run as Morga's clan was on a war path to conquer South. We get sad, lots of tears. Kisses might ensue.

Somehow it's revealed that this is the answer they were looking for and not Lucio (because I think the whole "Lucio's clan" plot was redundant) and Morga was just using them as bait to get Lucio out of Vesuvia.

Morga catches on to them, we learn who she is, Muriel and MC confront her but Khamgalai says her warmongering already costed her everything. She says she's trying to make up for it by killing her son and she needs MC to lure him out, they agree to work together, begrudgingly. (MC's past can be revealed here since they need to learn what's the deal with Lucio's obsession of them at some point)

Around this point MC might realize the mark's fading, Muriel brushes it off.

Instead of Lucio, Devil comes and tells them about Lucio's plan to do the ritual again. They go back to Vesuvia to warn people

Masquerade happens, people remember Muriel, Nadia or MC or someone give people an ultimatum. But oh no it was a TRAP all along, Devil told them of the ritual to get them right where he wanted. Lucio gets in MC's body, Asra sends them to the Arcana realm, same story as main 3.

MC forgets Muriel on the Arcana realm but through the power of love and maybe some guidance from the Hermit they go "oh no i forgot my boy". They return to find him in the Coliseum. What?! He was the Scourge?! Who could've thought. (this reveal wouldn't affect MC's opinion at this point since they already know he's a cinnamon roll)

This time Lucio's blackmailing him with MC's body. He says he needs hearts to make himself a new one and if Muriel grabs some for him MC can get their body back.

Story diverges to Upright/Reversed

Upright, if MC encouraged him to take it easy, but take it: MC snatches the body of someone he's suppose to fight to change his mind, he decides not to do it and instead go with defeating Lucio on the Arcana realm plan(curtesy of their friends). So here we can have a romantic scene like in Nadia's route where his chains are broken in the Arena.

They fuck around in the Arcana realm facing their fears and stuff, they bond, defeat Lucio, petrify the Devil etc. I like to think Muriel finds the forest spirit here, too, and maybe manages to heal it or learns that it's damaged but with enough time and care it will regrow. (a metaphor? in my arcana game? its more likely than you think)

Morga is charged for war crimes by the Kokhuri, the Coliseum is demolished and the love birds travel around doing their thing.

Reversed, if MC encouraged him to be strong and uncaring: MC fails to convince him and he decides to go through with Lucio's plan. He kills Morga and some more important spirits and fucks up the world. Which turns out to be a bogus plan anyways, Lucio only needed the hearts to settle his deal and Muriel kills him, too (I am untethered, and my rage knows no bounds!)

Without a body MC is stuck in the other realm so Muriel and them retreat to the magic dimension, defeat the Devil and live the rest of their days.

There might also be a 50 first dates situation going on inwhich they get stuck in a loop where MC constantly meets and falls in love with Muriel only to forget him in a couple of (magic realm)days.

idk man this aint my job im just spitballing here, im writing this long ass thing so ill look like im working

[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x Vampire!Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Always There

Notes:

I think outta all Englund's characters on this blog, I like writing for Inkubus the most. Which is criminal seeing as I write for him the least. I need to change that haha.

Plot: You meet up with a very old friend of yours and you spend some time catching up. And he's so clearly in love with you, its unbelievable and torturous to him that no matter what he does, you don't notice.

Warnings: A very unreliable narrator (In terms of particular other peoples clear feelings for her), BLOOD, DRINKING BLOOD, DRAINING SOMEONE OF BLOOD (But in a sort of polite way? Hah), MENTIONS OF AN ABUSIVE EX PARTNER, vampires and incubus'.

The smell of iron and petrichor fills your nostrils, disgusting and refreshing and also, just... relieving... in equal measure filling you up as you kneel by the victim - the man you'd chosen, - for tonight; A needle and tube attached to a blood bag between your fingers and digging into the poor mans neck.

You hate doing this, knowing this guy will be weak and sick feeling for the next day - maybe two depending on how much you take from him, - without understanding why. But, its for sure better then the alternative- which is just digging in right here and now with your teeth. That's messy, and the marks you leave behind aren't easy to explain away as 'animal attacks' anymore.

You need the blood, but you aren't a savage, jeez. You always catch any new vampire movies or shows together with your daughter and watch those actors with blood all over their chins, and think... How old are these vamps supposed to be?? 300 hundred years old!?

And they don't know how to eat without getting it all over their face?

Pfft! Rolling your eyes, you gently shake your head at the memories of bloody Edward Cullen and Lestat and Damon Salvetore swimming around in your head as watch the man's breathing. To be fair, you love them all - Twilight, Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Diaries, Nosferatu, Vampires Vs the Bronx, etc, - but that's just because its more fiction then truth- and that's coming from an honest to goodness bloodsucker.

Finally deciding you've taken enough without truly hurting the man, you put pressure on his neck and pull out the needle, carefully wipe away any mess with a cotton ball from your bag and put a band aid on him.

"Now," You talk firmly, softly, as you look into his eyes - which are dull, almost sleeping. A nice touch to the docile state you put your victims, in so they can at least not feel any pain or fear while you're collecting your feed, - , hands on his shoulders. "You're not going to remember this, or me. You're going to get a taxi home," You tuck some money in his shirt pocket, a thank you for his service; Its the least you could do. "Then get into bed and have a wonderful sleep with lots of lovely dreams. Thank you so much."

After you watch the man get up, still in a bit of daze but shaking it off - and not even noticing your presence, crouched down by where he's standing, - and leave the alleyway, you carefully pack away the blood bag and the tube and needle (In a separate plastic bag, for you to clean and sanitise when you get home) in your satchel and finally get back up, wrapping the strap over your head and resting it on your shoulder.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you turn to leave the alleyway and go home- when a familiar voice speaks up from the very back of the alley- and immediately your hopes rise.

"You look even more beautiful every time I see you."

You smile, peering into the darkness. "Oh, that's very sweet... but you and I both know I look like trash. I haven't eaten for a week!" When he just chuckles back, you tilt your head and waive him over. "Come out here so I can see you!; When did you get into town?"

Gracefully - more so then even you can manage, being a goddamn vampire, - Inkubus slips out of the darkness and you're happy to see he looks well. Its been forever since you say him last - 40 years? 70? - and you always have it in the back of your head for some reason that next time you see your friend, it'll be the last time. So its always lovely when he turns up and looks just as healthy as he always does.

"Oh I just got here; Thought I would come see you immediately. Otherwise you might nag at me." This time you chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes flicker to your satchel. "Collecting our dinner our we?"

"Yep! Smells like A Negative, my favourite. When was the last time you ate?"

"Ohh, a couple weeks ago. I'm due for my next fill soon, though... any suggestions?"

"No," Scrunch up your nose, you put a lot of emphasis on your response; See, you don't subscribe to the notion that monsters like the two of you have to act all blasé and cocky about the terrible things they must do. Apart from these night time trips to find breathers to bleed, you live a... mostly... normal life! So no- you definitely don't know anyone he can make his next victim.

And Inkubus knows this, which is why he laughs and you roll your eyes again at him, fixing the satchel on your shoulder. "So- " Again his eyes flicker to your bag, this time with meaning. A cheeky grin flits across his lips. "Want to get a drink?"

Smiling, you turn on your heel, you loop your arm through his and lead the way. "So have you been?"

___TIME SKIP___

4 hours later and the two of you are still stewing at a 24-Hour-Diner you frequent - seeing as you don't really sleep that much, - and are onto your 9th drinks at this point. You two may not see each other too often since the 1400's and went your separate ways in the world, but you never go longer then a hundred years - preferably 80 maximum, - without seeing each other and when you do- you have a lot to say. Filling each other in on what you've missed in each others lives is always a... disorientating experience, at times, but you must do it. You couldn't survive in a world where you didn't know what was happening in your best friends life. That would just be too lonely.

See, Inkubus is the only one you know - still, to this day, - who knew you when you were human, aside from the man referred to very nearly exclusively as 'Dick for brains' - being your daughters father, - and while having human friends who can make you feel normal again, is wonderful... so is feeling normal, in what you actually are currently. And that's not human. That's thousands and thousands of years old and a mystery to scientists. And, seeing as he's a literal demon... that's a very easy service for him to provide.

A waitress walks by to pick up you empty glasses and looks oddly at your personal tumbler. You clearly weren't meant to notice, but you do of course, and unassumingly shrug. "Bloody Mary... don't tell." You give her a conspiratorial wink, and she chuckles, walking off.

When you look back to Inkubus, he looks ready to make a joke so you give him a timid shrug. "Well, there is vodka and Tobasco sauce in it!... " He smirks, but lets it go- seeing as your words were funny enough.

"And how is Bethany? Has she seen her father lately...?" Your eyebrows arch, hearing Inkubus ask about him; Dick for Brains, Beth's father and the bane of your long, long existence. Obviously, seeing as the bastard impregnated you with his literal spawn of hell causing you to die during childbirth at age 26 so he could then turn you into a vampire, made you raise your daughter alone- and then returned 20 years later just to turn Beth into a vampire as well and claim that you can all be a 'proper family now'... you aren't a huge fan of the guy. And talking about him you don't do often, as it causes a horrible clenching feeling in your stomach and heart. Luckily, Inkubus is one of the few people who is allowed to make you feel that way. Him, and Beth.

You sigh, taking a slow sip of your drink through the matching metal straw and metal tumbler set Beth got your last mothers day (So as to hide the fact that its blood inside), you wonder what to say... "Beth's great, as always... she's fallen in love with a human, though. That can only end brilliantly." Shaking your head, you look to Inkubus to see his reaction and catch him rolling his eyes, smirking. Yep. "Um, and... yes. There has been contact with Dick for Brains... He recently, like... 20 years ago? turned up at her place in Egypt, and wouldn't leave till I had to fly down there and shoo him away." You grit your teeth. There is so much wrong with that man- you do honestly with you had never met him sometimes. That's horrible, you know, as if you hadn't met him you wouldn't have had Beth and she's the light of your life, but... at times like that instance? When he troubles her?

Its hard to not wish his existence away.

"Do you want me to speak with him?... Again... ?" Your gaze returns to Inkubus again, feeling at ease the moment your minds back in the diner with him and not in your head with Dick for Brains; Eyes softening. The idea is tempting, unbelievably tempting... And it would keep your friend around awhile longer. "That always seems to win you a couple hundred years of reprieve."

Taking a deep, needless breath - an anxious habit, - you set down your tumbler and shake your head. "No, that's okay... thank you for the offer, though. He seems to be giving up, slowly, finally. But damn, its taken him long enough to get the hint, huh?"

"Far too long." Inkubus' voice is bitter and dark, talking about your ex- and his eyes are reading much different. You know if you let him, he would kill Derek... but you cant do that. If anyone's going to kill him, it would be you or Beth, and neither of you are there yet. Inkubus takes a deep breath, relaxing again like a chameleon changing its colours. "Anyway, love; Onto prettier business. How did that thing go, that you had with that Djinn half a century ago. You seemed quite optimistic about that one."

A fluttering of laughter immediately comes out of you and Inkubus' truly cheers up at the sight of it, and you just look at him and shake your head; An awkward toothless smile on your lips. Ha! No.

His brows arch, laughter in his eyes. "Didn't end well?"

"That ended up being the shortest affair I've ever had and that's saying something." Brushing hair back from your face, you chew on your bottom lip. "You'd think after nearly 10 centuries, I'd learn... Oh- wait- make that 10 and nearly a half, centuries... Boy, am I clueless."

"Clueless about what, love?" You're just breathing in to respond, when a cheeky look crosses Inkubus' familiar face. "I mean, you are quiet clueless- about plenty of things. But specifically, this time."

You scrunch up your nose at him in response, grinning, before once again chewing on your bottom lip. "... I'm just not the woman that gets proposed to." You shrug, as if its no big deal; Even though your heart bleeds saying it out loud for the first time, to someone that matters and not just your ex-therapist, Julie. Setting your drink on the table in front of you, you idlily twist it. "Obsessed over and stalked, yes." You grin, a tinge of sadness to it. "Fucked, yes. Dated even, yes. But married?... Ha, no... "

His eyebrows climb up his forehead even more, before he softly smiles and pats your hand. "I asked you to marry me, all those years ago, sweetheart. Remember?" He reminds you gently, and you cant help giving a soft smile back at your well-meaning friend.

"Oh, yes of course I do. That was very sweet, but... I mean for love, you know? Not because I'm pregnant and alone."

Inkubus sighs, slightly frustrated, and leans back in his seat. "Mhmmm... " Rubbing a finger under his nose, he quickly clears his throat. Then he reaches his hand further up your arm to lay it on your forearm, running his thumb comfortingly across your skin. "Love, I'm sure that you'll find someone. Perhaps multiple someone's. Or, maybe, you don't need to find anyone new."

A little smile twitches at your lips as you pick up his hands and hold it on the table in both of yours. "... Maybe." For a split millisecond, your friend smiles. Sighing wistfully, you shrug. "Maybe I can learn to be happy alone. I mean, I like my life. I like my daughter, I like my job, I like my patterns... Maybe I don't need a man." Immediately his smile disappears and he rolls his eyes.

"You definitely don't need a man." He sighs, frowning. "But one can be good for a few things, no?"

"Hey." You set him with a stern look. "I thought we were making me feel better, about not having one?"

"Oh, you're right. I rescind my comment."

"You better." A cheeky grin crosses your face.

He looks back at it, the cheeky grin of yours, and the smile returns to his face.

~

The sun is warming up when you're on your way home, Inkubus beside you with his arms folded carefully behind his his back and your hands stuffed in your leather jacket pockets; One arm linked affectionately through his. You're an odd sight, you're sure, to any early morning commuters. You, and your barely-out-of-college looking self walking so close - and so domestically. A fact that is lost on you but not on the smug demon walking beside you, - to a man that currently looks to be in his 60's-70's age-wise.

Not that either of you care.

"Well, this is my place! Whatdaya think?" You ask, letting him go in order to unlock the door or the townhouse apartment and push open the door. He walks on in past you, looking around and you watch a soft smile grace his handsome features. "You like it?"

"Much better then the hole in the wall you thought was a good idea to show me in Transylvania- took everything in me not to sweep you away somewhere safer... with fewer mould spores... " He turns to look at you over his shoulder, a mischievous smirk on his mouth as you scrunch up your nose at him, before smiling.

"Well then, Mr Judgmental... I guess you don't want to know, that I chose this wallpaper cuz of you."

That definitely catches his attention, more then anything else you've said. He turns around in a full 360, assessing the wallpaper before looking curiously at you. "You... you chose this wallpaper because of... me? How so?"

You shrug, still leaning back against the open front door- sunlight filtering through the doorway. "The colour is very you. Its got 'Inkubus' vibes. You know," Raising your brows at him, you smirk. "Eccentric, full of itself." At that cheeky remark, he says 'Ha ha', sarcastically. "And, I guess, I missed you. Sooo... yeah... wallpaper."

"Hm... " Looking really far too pleased about this, looking a lot more engrossed by the home then before- but mostly the wallpaper. "This place is looking better, suddenly... "

"Like I said- Full of itself." You roll your eyes, laughing. Then you push off the door, push it closed with your foot and then go to pass by Inkubus to hit the livingroom. "Oh! The book! The one we were talking about at the diner- I'll find it for you! Come on- "

"Y/N." A hand curls gently around your arm, at the perfect moment so that you don't get yanked back with the force of your travelling and instead you just coat to a careful halt at Inkubus' side.

Blinking up at him curiously, wondering what he needed you for so suddenly, you tilt your head to the side. "Yes?"

For a good moment, he just looks at you whilst you become worried. What is happening? Every second that passes by, more and more ridiculous ideas cross your mind.

Finally, the man tilts his head slightly in sincerity.

"Sweetheart, are you ever going to see how ridiculously in love with you I am?"

And... for all of the disastrous and ridiculous possibilities that came to mind when he was saying nothing, you had a response. To this, you just stand their dumbly, your shoulders dropping and just looking at him in total shock. "... wel- uh- um... a few more hundred years?" You feel like a ton of bricks has just been dropped on top of you. "Maybe?" You squeak. You actually squeak.

And of course, you squeaked. You'd be surprised if you had managed to keep your composure after a confession like that. Here's this beautiful man, who against all foreseeable odds understands you, and cares about your kid, and whom you love... and somehow he's telling you that he loves you? That, for some reason, he wants you?

Is there something wrong with him?

There must be. Something terribly, horrible, irreversibly offensive that you aren't already aware of.

But you rack your brain and theirs nothing. Nothing, at all, that you can figure that would make you turn away from him right now.

He smiles a little bit at your awkward reaction, and lets go of your wrist in favour of tucking some hair back behind your ear. "Do you quite mind if I kiss you now?"

Your breath hitches, it actually hitches, like a tiny shy anime girl who's giant crush just got down on his knees in front of her for whatever reason, and you have to fight to pull yourself together; Rolling your shoulders back, hands on your hips. Totally, and translucently fake confident. "Um- you know? I don't?"

God, you are a centuries old vampire; Your vernacular should be yards better then this.

And then kisses you.

Oh god- And then he kisses you.

Because you're suddenly struck hard in the face with a million words and phrases, from current to boomer-speak to old fashioned to forgotten, to describe it but mostly you're just wondering why in the world you hadn't been doing this the whole damn time. Your hands find the sides of his coat in order to steady yourself, and pull him closer as you carefully tilt your head into the kiss. It comes so naturally, the kissing does. Between you and him. Its like, despite the bounds of your relationship never having reached this level before, you know exactly how to kiss each other. There's no awkwardness or searching. You just fit.

When finally, you slowly end the kiss, you fail to open your eyes for a good moment, before cracking them open slightly, half lidded and flickering up to his eyes.

And you take a deep, unnecessary breath and step away, torturously out of Inkubus' personal space. "... holy shit." You have so many questions... None of which touch on how exactly you're feeling because you get that much, at least.

But you cant help but wonder why- and for how long this has been brewing and how long exactly that you missed it- and how the hell this is going to work-

He follows you, thank god, a roguish yet soft look on his face. "Maybe we should take this to the livingroom, love. I promise, I can explain everything to you."