#i wore a purple skirt and IT LOOKS. FIRE ON ME

[juice-boxy]

Discovered that nothing is stopping me from being a cute trans guy in a skirt

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

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“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defending you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. You hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

[moonlight-prose]

FROM EDEN, LOVE GROWS

a/n: this is a small very wildly written joel fic. i couldn't decide if i wanted to use pre-outbreak joel or just modern-day joel. so it's joel that lives in a cabin and finally given the peace that he's wanted since the outbreak happened. there's no real timeline and it doesn't fit into anything i've written before, so it's just this. a massive thank you to my darling @sunflowersteves for bet-reading this and screaming over it with me.

dedicated to: @saradika happy valentine's day/signed, sealed, delivered day babes! i hope you enjoy your small gift!🖤🖤

summary: days spent in flower fields and cooking in a sunbathed kitchen with him.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, romance, joel being happy, cottagecore vibes, domestic bliss, p in v sex, cumplay, cumeating, fluff.

playlist

Flowers brushed along your hands as you walked through the overgrown field he tended to complain about. Yet with all his complaints, he never once thought about cutting them down. Perhaps it was the way your face lit up with a smile as you saw the array of colors splashed like a painting outside, or even the way you looked standing in the center. Joel couldn’t find it in himself to take this small Eden away from you.

He dropped the pieces of wood beside the front step. All prepared to be tossed into the fireplace as the both of you prepared dinner in your too small kitchen. The space was filled with dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling, small trinkets you’d collected through your time, and pictures.

Oh how you couldn’t stop taking pictures.

Wherever Joel went he could see small polaroid images of himself, of you two together, and even of Ellie. You took a liking to her the second you met her. Knowing how much Joel cared for the girl. In your own way, you were her mother, the person she looked up to. Joel found that his heart that died long ago, stirred to life. You brought out a side of him that disappeared a long time ago and he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Content to remain in this haven you created together for as long as you could.

He could hear you humming a tune as you picked yet another long sprig of lavender. The purple color was vibrant and alive when you held it. He’d never had an appreciation for flowers until you. Found them to be things that grew, and more often than not…things that he’d later cut down.

Yet now he could see how beautiful they were. How beautiful you were surrounded by them.

The sunlight turned the field ethereal, your worn dress fluttering in the breeze. He felt his breath catch, his eyes tracing the curves that were see through in the thin fabric. The very curves that he had kissed, touched, last night. Until you were breaking beneath his palms, begging him to put you back together with his love.

“What are you staring at?” you called, the flowers you’d gathered practically spilled out of your arms.

Joel’s lips turned up into a grin, his eyes tracing down the length of your body as you made your way down the pathway. The skirt of your dress swishing with each step, the top practically slipping down your shoulders. He wanted to get you inside, build the fire, and peel away the thin layer you wore. Although that might construe him as being impatient and hasty. Joel didn’t care, he’d ask to have you in the middle of the flower field you adore so much, simply to be close to you.

“You,” he murmured, feeling his heart swell at the sight of your smile growing.

He’d never been so in love with someone as he was with you right now.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, dropping the flowers on the old wooden table he and Tommy managed to scrape together.

His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer. “Very much.”

Your breathy giggle did him in. Turned his insides into something akin to melted chocolate as you stood on your toes, your arms going around his neck to pull him closer. He caught the faint scent of your homemade perfume wafting to his nose, the floral aroma turning his mind hazy. Heat pooled in his body, the heady sensation of need springing to life in his body.

He forgot about the wood, about the dinner, the second your lips slid against his. The small moan of contentment you let out into his mouth reminded Joel of what exactly he had. A life he couldn’t have ever dreamed about. Licking into your mouth, he began to gently ruck up the skirt of your dress. Desperate to feel some part of your skin that lay beneath, like a delicate bud waiting to bloom for him.

“Joel,” you sighed, head falling back as he nipped down your throat, laving his tongue over the small bites to soothe the pain. “The dinner.”

Grunting, he stepped forward, forcing you back until your legs hit the table that was partially covered in flowers. With gentle encouragement, he helped you onto it, his hands now shoving up your dress with a vigor that hadn’t been there before. But you knew Joel when he got like this. Nothing would deter the path he so clearly set for himself.

“We’ll get to that,” he mumbled, grasping on the top of your dress and yanking it down like he’d been dreaming of doing.

Your sharp gasp was like music to his ears, the heat pooling even faster into his body. Who were you to complain when Joel’s idea of pleasure was worshiping you like a goddess. As if you were an ethereal being that emerged from the forest, dripping in sunlight and petals, and his only goal in life was to reverently tend to your alter. To proclaim his soul as yours.

His palms cupped your breasts, thumbs teasing your peaked nipples and drawing out sounds he wished he could hear on a loop in his head. It was when he took one into his mouth that he felt his cock twitch in his pants. Your hand digging into his graying hair, yanking on it as he scraped his teeth along the sensitive bud.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, practically bowing into his hold. “Please baby. I want—oh fuck.”

His hands slipped between your thighs, stroking the plush flesh with his calloused palms. Pleasure sparked up your spine, turning your mind dizzy as you tried to form coherent words. Yet they all seemed to fade away the longer he teased you. So close to what you needed the most, but still so far.

With a surge of bravery, you took a hold of his wrist, shoving his palm even higher until his fingers dipped into your soaked pussy. Your saccharine smile was all he saw as shock crossed his face at the realization. All the while you pranced in the field, gathering your flowers, and practically calling out to him…you’d been bare beneath your dress. Wearing nothing to block him from taking you like this.

“Shit,” he rasped, his fingers finding your clit with ease as you practically dripped down his palm. “All day?”

You nodded, shifting up to catch his lips in a wet kiss, your tongue sliding along his. “Wondered when you’d come and finally take me Miller,” you breathed, hips bucking into his hand.

Joel’s other hand gripped the back of your neck, his lips roughly pressing against your with a raw passion that only came when he was like this. Too worked up for words. So he allowed his actions to speak for him. He took and took until you were breathless, until you were begging him to keep going. To take everything you had to offer and replace it with himself.

“You’re a menace sugar.” He pressed down on your clit, smiling at the sound of your mewled whimper. “You wanted me to take ya huh? To fill you up until you were dripping of me?”

You nodded, fingers scraping along his clothed shoulders. “Yes.”

Stroking your chin lightly, he thumbed your bottom lip, pulling at it until you took it into your mouth. Your tongue licking along the digit with a need that caused his whole body to throb.

“Open your eyes for me baby.” He groaned as they fluttered open, lust filling them. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The drunken smile that crossed your lips had him reaching down to unbuckle his pants, the thumb on your clit still working you over. Your legs were hitched over his hips, pulling him closer as you moaned into his neck. Unable to ask him for what you wanted. Except he already knew it. Because that was the thing about Joel.

He never told you that payed attention, never let you in on that small fact, until he was giving you what you unconsciously wanted. The polaroid pictures littered around the house was proof enough. Fuck, even the flowers he always brought home for you, wild or not. He knew what you wanted, knew what you loved, and gave it to you. Just to see that smile cross your lips again—all for him.

“You want me to fuck you honey?” Nodding, you tried to press him closer, your hands gripping onto the back of his neck. “I need words.”

“Yes Joel,” you whimpered. “Need you inside me. Please baby. Please—”

Your head fell back, mouth falling open in a silent shout as he sunk into your, the pleasure searing through both your bodies. His forehead fell against yours, hand slapping against the table behind you as he curled over your body. Joel barely kept himself together at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him so tight. It made him lightheaded.

His breath came out in pants, cock throbbing along your walls when he pulled back slightly. Except your legs kept him from moving too far, turning his thrust into a stunted movement. Yet that seemed to be exactly what you needed. Crying against his shoulder, you clung to his body, your hips coming up off the table to meet his thrusts. Desperate for the budding release in your body.

“So fuckin’ good,” he slurred against your throat, licking at the sweat that formed—moaning at the salty taste.

Shoving his hips forward and sending you up the table slightly, he felt you bear down around him. Moaning, you felt his thumb return to your clit, spreading your slick up. You knew you wouldn’t last long, the coil growing tighter by the second. Yet you also knew Joel was right there with you. Unable to control himself.

With each throaty grunt, his hips slammed into yours, the head of his cock rubbing against that spot that had your toes curling. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you leaned back on one hand, rolling your hips to meet his movements. It was a debauched quick fuck that could not be considered anything other than pure filth. Except Joel made it beautiful. He whispered praise with each kiss, reminding you of why you were with him in the first place.

Your heart belonged to him—the space he carved within you so large that you could barely stand it at times.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous honey,” he mumbled against your lips, breathing hotly into your mouth. “I–I fuck I—”

“I know,” you panted, feeling him pinch your clit between two fingers. “I love you Joel.”

His hips stuttered as he cried out against your breast, his teeth sinking into the skin. With one last thrust, he broke, coming apart in your arms and spurting into your warm pussy. That seemed to be all it took for you to follow him. Your body went taut, the tightness in your stomach finally breaking to fill you with that warm pleasure you ached for. Shaking in his arms, you felt his hands stroke your back, soothing you until eventually you came down from that euphoric high.

The sob of his name on your lips echoing in your small cabin.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, happy to remain right where he was.

The sun was beginning to dip beneath the treeline, turning your small Eden dark, but neither of you minded. There was safety in this small life you’d built together. Comfort filled the cracks of your home, seeping into your skin slowly. This was your forever with him, the one thing you longed to have for some time.

Eventually Joel pulled out, his fingers dipping down to gather what dripped out of you. Moaning softly, you smiled as he slipped it into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut at the combined taste. It didn’t take you asking him to know what you wanted. Sliding his cum through your folds, he pressed his slick coated fingers against your lips too. A smile crossed his face as you groaned at the taste, licking at him until the pads of his fingers were clean.

“We don’t have to cook dinner,” he said softly, spreading your thighs with his hands.

You laughed, your hand digging into his hair once more. “Joel, we have to eat something.”

“I know.”

He didn’t give you time to respond, already hooking your legs over his shoulders and pushing your dress up even further. And you let him. You gave into the pleasure one more time, the warmth of his love caressing you with each passing moment. Dinner would be prepared eventually, but right now you would bask in his touch. Happy to remain in this blooming love for as long as time allowed.

[wastefulreverie]

"I'm not sure what I'm looking at," Maddie admitted.

Lancer sighed. "Me neither. That's what I was hoping you could explain." What she'd seen on the screen was impossible.

"The cameras must have glitched. With all the ectoplasm in the air, it must have fried the wiring or something. It wouldn't be the first time."

Even that explanation was grasping at straws, but it was all she could fathom.

"Dr. Fenton, they're your cameras. The ghost-proof ones you designed and installed."

Drat.

He was right. These were the cameras she and Jack had created after the old Casper High cameras died.

She was all out of answers.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

Lancer paled. "I thought it was best I consult you first, given the known risk of overshadowing. But even that doesn't seem right."

It didn't. When a ghost overshadowed its host, it had limited use of the ghost's powers. Nothing that could change the nature or form of the person it was inhabiting.

Hand shaking, Maddie reached for the mouse again and reset the video. She needed to see this again to understand more.

The camera looked down on one of the main hallways of Casper High. It was vacant save for her son Danny and his friend Tucker. Both were standing against a row of lockers, talking. Tucker was waving around one of his devices and Danny looked a little more than disinterested. Even though there was no sounds, Maddie didn't have to guess that this was another one of his new tech toys.

And then a girl with black hair and a checkered skirt entered the frame—Sam Manson. She wore a purple backpack with four arms on either side like a spider and boots that stopped just below her knee. She pulled something from her backpack as she approached and threw it in the direction of the boys.

Danny reacted faster than Maddie would have thought possible. Rather than stepping out of the line of fire, his body stretched and morphed before her eyes. His torso rippled, clothes moving with it, and there was a gaping hole where his chest and left shoulder should be. Whatever Sam had thrown—a small book—hit the locker behind him and fell to the floor.

Beside him Tucker jumped in terror. Not because of Danny's body turning in on itself, but from the sound of the book hitting the wall. Tucker then said something that as Maddie tried to read his lips, she couldn't sound out.

Then, Danny seemed to let go of his transformation. His body rippled once more and his torso was as it should be. He said something to Sam, who clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.

The video clip ended there.

None of it made sense.

She turned back to Lancer. "What happened after this?"

"The three of them talked for a few minutes at your son's locker. Then they walked off. I followed them through the other cameras we have, but there was nothing out of the ordinary until they left the building."

"Sam and Tucker didn't even react. I wouldn't call that 'out of the ordinary.' Whatever happened there they know what it is."

Lancer's brow furrowed. "So you think it's best to speak with Ms. Manson and Mr. Foley first?"

"Could we do that?"

"I can call them from their classes now, if that's what you think the best course of action is."

"No." She shook her head. "I want to talk to them eventually, but first I think I should concur with my husband about this. Could you email this to me?"

"Dr. Fenton, I really don't think it would do either of us any good to create copies of this footage. If this got into the hands of a third-party like the GIW, we might not be able to protect your son."

"I suppose that's true." She bit her lip. That posed a problem because Jack was home with a ghost bug and couldn't leave quarantine. "Alright. Call in Sam and Tucker. I want to hear them out."

Lancer left her in his office alone. Minutes later, her son's friends names were called over the intercom.

Now all she had to do was wait.

[naynah-pinsence]

W.I.T.C.H. redesigns

Like with my Winx redesigns, I mostly browsed the wiki and blended my favorite design elements together lol.

I did end up using more New Power elements in the 1st forms, and the original designs in the 2nd forms. Idk knowing that the girls got to cover up more as they grew up instead of covering up more as kids....not a huge fan.

Overall: Guardians got color-coded wings. I really really like the og wing shapes, but the color-coding feels more classic magical girl to me so. I did use the shoe-less element from the reboot in the 2nd form. Bare feet feels more spiritual/magical imo. I actually like that part of the reboot design! Same with the element icons. 1st forms get more of the urban part of the urban fantasy look. Comfy tennis shoes for all. 2nd form gets gold accessories. 2nd form's main colors are the darker sub colors of the og. 2nd form socks are gradients instead of striped 2 tone. Normal clothes are mostly the og 2000s look. Idk I think that Will's technomancy is less impressive if Siri exists lol.

Elyon: I used Elyon's reboot hair texture. I always thought that between the color and texture of og Elyon's hair that it looked like straw? She's got a "chubby" body. I use "" bc she looks average, but would be considered chubby?

Will: If Disney owns these girls then Will gets a Kermit shirt. Since she's a tomboy, both of her guardian forms get shorts. 1st form gets a hood. Her hair gets some of her mother's waves. Normal hair does the emo hide-the-eye thing: really lean into her angst. In both guardian forms her hair does not change length. The short hair is truly her. Her bangs get the og treatment, and some hair gets tucked behind her left ear. The heart gets absorbed into Will in guardian form: she can still use it, it just isn't physically there in guardian form.

Irma: Dresses like she's an extra on Hannah Montana. It feels right. Her guardian hair gets space buns bc sometimes in her civilian forms she wore them, and I think she looks cute in them. Her 1st form is has heavy insp from Cassidy's guardian form. I just like the top better lol. Since Will lost the og little heart on her skirt, I gave it to Irma. It feels more Irma anyway imo. Irma also gets a chubbier body type.

Taranee: I love og Taranee's civilian form. I love her clothes, I love her hair, I love the hair beads, man og Tarnee's look is so chef's kiss to me. So I really didn't change anything. I have never once in my life understood what in the world og guardian Taranee's hair was supposed to be! In og New Power, she gets dreds, but keeps her 1st form hair too???? Dreds was my only guess as to what those were supposed to be, but with NP's hair having both, I don't think they were dreds??? And they don't look like the way that braids/hair twists are drawn in the comic (og Elyon has hair twists? Or at least I've interpreted that style as twists rather than braids?). So that plus how much I love civilian Taranee's hair, 1st form gets the civilian hair. She looses the beads, but gets a a wrap colored with the gradient of the purple-teal. 2nd form gets braids with gold accessories. I always felt like Taranee's og guardian forms seemed less designed than the others bc there were no swirly designs?? I mean, she gets a small heart on her collar, but that was taken off in the animated series probably for animation reasons. I actually like the triangle cut-out instead of the heart bc of fire's triangle icon, so I used that. I did take the waistline from Cornelia's skirt (my personal favorite waistline) and gave it it her shorts. She gets long sleeves in the 1st form. I just think it looks nicer than the sleeveless look in this design.

Cornelia: Both guardian forms get longer hair. 1st form gets a choker necklace. She looses the long sleeves and gets sleeves. Looking at og Cornelia and Irma's 1st forms, Cornelia's feels like a more elegant version of Irma's, so I wanted to keep that element in a way. Her skirt waistline gets turned to become the hem of the top. Her 2nd form keeps the og collar, but her top is inspired from comic Halinor's 1 sleeve shirt: Cornelia's top is 1 sleeved with a long glove.

Hay Lin: She gets braids in both forms. Like with Irma, sometimes she wears braids in civilian form, and I think it's cute. 2nd form gets two braids combined into a single one in the back, letting the rest of her hair blow free in the wind. She also gets sleeves in both forms for max blowing-in-the-wind factor, plus I wanted at least 2 members to have bell sleeves. 1st form gets NP Irma's top with an edited neckline. 2nd form gets the heart waistline, a lengthened skirt, and a choker necklace. Her civilian form looses the goggles, replaced with purple jelly sunglasses.

[lunarmoonanons]

Among Dragon Royalty

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

YN has a hard time her first few hours in the red keep. The servants are too watchful. And the royals are strange and pale, their violet eyes unnerving to the girl. 

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist 

It took several maids to undress the strange child, intending to bathe her once she had arrived at the red keep; as the girl kicked and scratched at the strangers who grabbed her clothing. YN did not want to give up her clothes for some strange royal clothes; her skirts had design and meaning, her shawl was made by her mother, everything she wore had some type of significance to her. 

Her fight increased when she noticed them reach for her satchel. YN lunged forward and slapped the woman who touched it. “Don’t touch my things!” The little girl sneered. Before the woman could get angry, the queen came into the room followed by a little boy with white hair. 

“Darling, you must get cleaned. Please do not hurt the servants.” The queen asked, reaching forward to stroke her hair. Marveling at the thicker texture. “I have realized, sweetling. You have not spoken your name. May I have it?”

YN looked suspiciously at the woman, her strange purple eyes offered nothing but kindness and loyalty. “You may not have my name, you can call me YN.” A repeated phrase left YN’s lips, something she had said many times in dark lands from where she came. 

“Well YN, I know this must be strange to you. It’s strange to us that a child who does not have the blood of old valyria could command such a large dragon.” Alysanne knelt to the girl, her words confusing the boy who stood at her side. 

“Is that why you all look so strange? You have this old blood?” YN asked. 

“Yes love, we are of old valyria. Perhaps your blood contains the same magic.” Alysanne told the girl. 

“Mama, if she is valyrian like us, why does she look so different?” The boy asked. 

“I am from a dark place. I don’t remember much.” YN said. “I will bathe myself, I am more comfortable that way.”

“Of course, you must join us for dinner. My husband and I wish to know you more.” Alysanne nodded. She felt such a maternal need for the girl. When she heard her fighting the maids, she almost had them taken for treason against her baby. How strange that she thought of YN as her baby already. But hearing the girl kick and struggle awoken such a fire in her, she felt so compelled to burn them. Luckily Aemon had been there to calm her. 

When Alysanne stood to leave the room, YN shot up suddenly and placed a hand on the woman’s stomach. Her eyes flashed a dark deep red for only a moment before returning to their original almost black brown. 

“I can feel a dragon in there. You’re going to have a baby this year.” YN said simply. Turning to the tub, YN did not notice the woman slowly and hesitantly bring her hands to her stomach. With teary eyes Alysanne tentatively rubbed the area. 

“Are you sure?” She asked with a shaky breath. 

“Yes. I can feel a dragon presence, it’s not mature or alive like you. But it’s the stirrings of the dragon blood there.” YN turned to Aemon, patting his head. “Your dragon blood is singing too, I think you’ll fly high with dragons.” 

Aemon smiled at the girl who was only a year older than him. He didn’t seem thrilled when he heard his parents were bringing a child home, he was still missing Dany. But when he finally saw her, his mind went from apprehension to joy at the sight of a sister and playmate. Baelon was fun but as he was still so small Aemon wanted a playmate who could keep up. Like his parents, his blood felt for her but in a loyal sense of children who deemed each other playmates for life. 

“Will we play later?” The boy asked. 

YN smiled and nodded. Truly, she also just wanted to play around as a child would, now with the opportunity presenting itself YN felt a warm tingly feeling in her stomach. Excitement. When Alysanne carted Aemon away to allow the girl to bathe, YN stared at the dragon tapestries. Drifting away in her memory. 

A memory of shadow binders dancing around a fire. Of their shadows dancing on the walls, but not matching the moments of the bodies they were meant to mimic. She dazed off to a memory of the shadow mountains, where she heard calls of old dragons. Her mind was not focused, hopping from faded memory to faded memory, but always being pulled back to the heart of darkness, and an abstract burning figure.

So it seems that the dragon blood in the Targaryen family sings to YN as well, it does not hypnotize her though. Perhaps that is due to the strange place from her memory. 

Taglist:

@missglaskin

[glacierruler]

If I Could Just Kiss You

No it is not almost 4 am now where I live shut up /j /s

Ships: Prinxiety and Dukexiety (Roman and Remus both date Virgil and are fine with it)

Want to make it very clear, Virgil thought Remus was a boy until it introduced himself.

Angst/Fluff, mostly fluff though

CWs: transphobia, accidental misgendering, deadnaming, death mentions(no actual death, I swear), self-deprecation, tell me if I missed any!

Words: 5080

Feel free to spam my inbox with questions about this au

Taglist: @uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous @hyperfixated-homo @cutebisexualmess @starlocked01 Please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed!

Virgil didn’t know what to do. Storm didn’t know what to do because storm liked these two boys. And they were siblings. And Virgil knew that they wouldn’t like storm back, because who would? Storm was self-deprecating, small, and honestly not that attractive. At least not in storm’s eyes. Virgil had weird eyes too, and who would want a freak like storm, with storm’s weird mismatched eyes. One of them a deep purple and the other a bright green. Plus storm’s clothing choices were questionable to most. Most of the time storm wore a black with purple patches hoodie, along with an oversized Fall Out Boys T-shirt, with black jeans. The most expensive thing storm wore were storm’s Doc Martins, although storm had some more expensive shoes at home. Shoes were the one thing storm ever splurged on, because Virgil couldn’t design or make shoes. Storm could hand sew some clothing. Specializing in skirts, but storm was getting better at making dresses, shirts, and pants as well. Also storm loved hand sewing, as it was calming and took up time. Storm was also decent at painting abstract art, and somewhat good at drawing humanesque figures on storm’s computer. So maybe Virgil wasn’t actually useless, storm just thought that way because of past incidents, but let’s not wander there yet. As Virgil was circling into storm’s own thoughts of panic, storm saw movement out of the corner of storm’s eye. Virgil freaked out for a moment, before remembering storm was at the local coffee shop, and there was going to be some movement. It did not help storm’s panic, however, when storm saw who walked in. It was the two siblings. And their friends. And oh, Virgil was so screwed if they saw storm. So so very screwed. Mainly because none of them know Virgil’s actual name, just storm’s deadname, because of course storm’s job at the local college wouldn’t let storm change storm’s name! And storm is so used to not being deadnamed or misgendered here. Just wearing different wristbands to denote the gender that storm was for that day, if storm could pinpoint it down. After all being genderfluid wasn’t easy sometimes. Also now, whenever Remy’s shift ended, Virgil would have to be very careful not to mention either crush’s name because they were here. And by the looks of everyone’s bags, they were here for a while. So Virgil hid behind storm’s computer screen, and did storm’s best not to draw attention to stormself. But eventually…

“Hey, bitch! I’m off my shift!” Remy shouted for the whole cafe to hear. A few of the regular customer’s chuckled, but the table that the two siblings and their posse had sat at all looked confused for a second, and Virgil could feel the heat rush to storm’s cheeks. Storm was not ready to come out to any of those five over there yet. Thankfully Remy’s partner, Emile, walked in just at that moment. Virgil looked at their necklace, and it was pink. Meaning they were a girl today, but storm would wait until storm could see their pronoun pins before using she/her for them.

“Love, what did we say about cursing right after you got off shift?”

“Too wait five minutes before doing so… but, like, hon-”

“Nope, you almost got fired last time you called Virgil a bitch right after you got off of your shift, and we can’t afford to live off of one income in this economy.” Emile stated. And now Virgil could die, because both of them were about to sit at storm’s table, after just calling storm by storm’s preferred name. In front of storm’s crushes who did not know storm’s preferred name. Which, to be fair to Remy and Emile, Virgil was out pretty much everywhere except for storm’s job. Which didn’t allow storm to be out and storm thought that was stupid. But storm couldn’t afford to live based on just commissions and sponsorships alone just yet, so they had to deal with it. Either way, Virgil had been kind of hoping to tell the siblings on storm’s own, without being accidentally outed to them. And, oh great, all of them were paying attention to Remy and Emile now. Who had just kissed, and were walking over to Virgil right now. Oh shit oh shit oh shit! What do I do. Virgil’s heart started pounding, and it was getting harder for storm to breathe, and then storm was shocked and sucking in a huge breath of air after storm felt something cold against storm’s skin.

“Hun, you good, you haven’t freaked out like that here for a while.” Remy’s voice was full of concern. And Virgil nearly cried. Storm had had a panic attack in front of storm’s two crushes. In front of people that constantly talked to storm at the college. Storm was so very fucked if they recognized him. 

“I’m fine,” Virgil croaked out, well at least storm’s voice wouldn’t be recognizable, “can we talk about it later?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you need.” Emile said, and Virgil could see their pronoun pins now. So she is using she/her today, good to know. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell you two about it later,” Virgil whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear storm. Both of storm’s friends nodded, and storm breathed out a sigh of relief. However before storm could go back to drawing, storm heard a gasp from the table that storm’s crushes were sitting at.

“You’re the person who works at the college right? The one who helps with art and english papers!” Excitement seeping out of this individual’s voice. Virgil looked over, and it was Patton. The guy who storm had helped with an english paper and art assignment. Although the english paper was what storm was payed to do. Patton had chestnut brown eyes, with brown hair to match. If Virgil had remembered correctly something Patton had said, he was from Papua New Guinea. So english hadn’t been his first language, as his parents taught him some other language, Virgil couldn’t remember what it was called, but storm thought it was cool that Patton knew another language. Sometimes storm wished that storm had payed more attention in spanish class. Mainly having taken it because storm’s family was from Mexico, and neither Virgil nor storm’s mother had been taught the language. Either way, now everyone at that table was looking over at storm. And now Virgil was officially screwed. What was storm supposed to do, hide under the table and never get up again. Then Patton spoke up again, “Although I thought you went by a different name? Something like-”

“Er, that’s only my name at the college, I don’t use it anywhere else.” Virgil interrupted, not feeling like getting deadnamed today. And now Roman was looking at storm, and Virgil felt like maybe storm should prepare some lines in storm’s head just in case Roman said something. Although he shouldn’t, after all his sibling, who’s older by one year is nonbinary. 

“Ah, then what is your name? And pronouns if you don’t mind me asking.” And oh, Roman’s voice was sweet as honey, and Virgil could swim in it all day. Ah, storm could feel storm’s ears starting to heat up.

“Er, the name I like to use is Virgil, and my pronouns change all the time, but storm/storms pronouns always work,” Virgil’s voice was hoarse, and still a bit scratchy from the panic attack that storm had just had. And before storm could say anything else, Remus spoke up. 

“Oh you use neos too! That’s so cool, you know meeting another person who uses neopronouns is like meeting a celebrity from that famous horror movie, Monstruo de la Noche.” The way Remus’s voice sounded like an old, scratchy record, but in a good way, just made Virgil want to melt. Although Virgil didn’t really like horror movies in most aspects, storm would love to watch a horror movie with Remus.

“Er yeah, before I forget to ask what are all your names and pronouns?” And oh no, storm’s voice was no longer scratchy, and while storm liked it on some days, other days it felt way to feminine. Virgil sometimes wished storm had a voice modifier on them, but then again storm was working on speaking more masculinely, it was just a lot of practice. Sometimes Virgil got sick of practicing, just wishing storm could flip a switch and storm’s voice would be deep. And honestly-

“Well you already know who I am kiddo, but I’ll introduce myself again in case you forgot, you do help a lot of people throughout the college. I’m Patton, 23 years old, and he/him and they/them pronouns for me!” Virgil was roughly jarred from storm’s thoughts by the loud voice, although it was a welcome distraction from where storm’s mind was taking storm. Then the person who was sitting across from Patton spoke up.

“My name is Logan, and please use he/him pronouns when it comes to addressing me.” Logan seemed analytical and smart, based on his body language and tone of voice. He had slightly tanned skin and was wearing glasses, a suit, and a tie. Virgil could’ve sworn he was the person who tutored students in the math lab, now that storm though of it. Before he could analyze too much, Remus spoke up.

“Well you already know my name, but my pronouns are he/him and it/its.” Remus looked like it was about to jump on the table with how excited he was.

“The name’s Janus,” a silky smooth voice said next, “although I believe you already knew that, my pronouns however have changed since we last talked. I use they/them and fae/faer pronouns now.” And Janus was right, Virgil had known faer name. Storm had known them in elementary school. They had been the best of friends, but after the incident, Virgil and Janus had grown apart. Storm still felt guilty about the scar that encompassed half of Janus’s face. However, before Virgil could say anything, Janus cut in again. “Just so you know, it wasn’t your fault,” and Virgil felt even more guilty now. Why, storm didn’t know, but now everything felt awkward. The tension in the room was really thick, and storm could tell that everyone else at that table was confused as to what was going on.

“Ah, before I forget to introduce myself to a such a lovely person, my name is Roman and my pronouns are he/him.” Roman announced flamboyantly, and oh, was Virgil head over heels for this guy. Maybe a little too much.

“Right, well it was nice meeting you all…” Virgil trailed off, not sure of what to say. Storm was really bad at socializing, having taken forever to warm up to Remy. Although storm was pretty sure it was because of the incident, but again, storm never liked to think about that. Thankfully Remus stepped in.

“Soo, what’s a school tutor doing at this coffee shop? Oooh, is this where you come to complain about the last minute papers all the students submit,” Virgil did not miss the playful look it gave its brother.

“Err, not quite, this is where I go to draw and do my online courses,” Virgil stated, not sure where to go from here. Thankfully someone else did.

“And storm def comes here to vent about what the english class kids do too, don’t you hun?” Remy snickered, nevermind, Virgil was suddenly reminded of why storm hated Remy now. 

“Only a little!” Storm defended, which only got Remy and Emile to snicker as well as a few eyebrow raises from the other table. Before the conversation could go any further, Remy introduced themself.

“Sup you five, I’m Remy, and I use they/them pronouns, and this here is my partner-”

“Hi! I’m Emile, my pronouns also change all the time, like Virgil’s, currently I use she/her, but if you’re ever unsure of what to use, they/them is always okay!”

“Ah, if it wouldn’t terribly bother you three-” Roman started, before Remus interrupted, saying,

“We could totally blow your party! And cafe, into smithereens!” And Virgil couldn’t help but snicker at that, before remembering that they brought bags in, and storm caught Roman give a playful glare to his sibling. 

“Uh…” Not a good idea, not a good idea, not a good idea, “sure, I don’t have a problem with it, Remy, Emile?” 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea!”

“You need more friends anyways hun.”

“Remy! Be nice!”

Virgil heard Janus chuckle a bit, which was either very good or very bad. Storm’s brain started screaming at storm, thinking it was an absolutely horrible idea to do this, so before anyone could get any further with conversation, Virgil went and sabatoged stormself. “But, before you decide to join us, don’t you have schoolwork to do? With your bags and all?”

“Ah, but lovely Virgil, we have been working on schoolwork for the three hours that we’ve been here! It’s only fair that we catch a break to chat with an engaging individual such as yourself!” And Roman flashed storm that smile that storm loved so much, with slightly crooked, very slightly tinted yellow teeth, which meant they were healthy, as they weren’t an obvious yellow, but subtle enough for someone to tell they weren’t pure white, (don’t ask Virgil why storm knew the proper color healthy teeth were supposed to be). Sure, Virgil knew that he probably flashed that smile at everyone he met, but he certainly didn’t call everyone he met lovely, did he? Maybe he did, how was Virgil supposed to know, anyways Roman had a point. Strictly studying is bad for people. And Virgil knew that because storm had burnt stormself out by doing that.

“Ah, alright, just didn’t want get in the way of studying, y’know?” And oh, the way all of them beamed at storm made Virgil want to never leave this moment of feeling wanted.

After about three hours of all of them sitting and talking, the cafe closed, and Virgil got all of their numbers. And maybe, when no one was looking, storm put a red heart by Roman’s number and a green one by Remus’s.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil was back at the college, having just finished working with another student, when Roman, Remus, and their friends walked in. Honestly, she was exhausted, trying her best not to cry everytime one of her coworkers called her by that name.

“Yo, Vee, it’s us from the cafe, remember?” And the way Remus nearly screamed that, honestly made Virgil’s day so much better.

“Yeah, do you need help with something?” Virgil was so professional at storm’s job, she honestly deserved a gold star for not acting like storm was hopelessly in love.

“Actually [Redacted], I’ve got this.” One of Virgil’s coworkers, who had an obvious crush on Roman, said. Virgil could see the way Roman tensed up at her voice. 

“Nah, Sally, you’ve got a meeting in fifteen, remember?” Storm was trying not to start a fight, not sure why Roman was so tense around her, but he was, so Virgil was going to do her best to make Roman more comfortable.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could take that appointment-”

“This will be the third time this week, Sally, I’m not doing that. I can do this, plus I believe one of them actually has me scheduled to work with them in the next five minutes.” Which, the last part of that was technically a lie, but Virgil never shared who she was working with with her coworkers. Storm never really liked them anyways. Sally huffed, but ultimately said nothing. As soon as she went back, Virgil led them over to a table that was a little further away from everything else.

“Question, do you want us to call you by the name that Sally used when you’re here, or something else?” Logan asked, which Virgil thought was sweet of him, but what really surprised Virgil was the twins talking over each other.

“Was it okay for me to call you Vee? If it wasn’t-”

“I’ll hit him over the head with my morningstar and bury him and-”

“I’ll let Remus do that to me without fighting back, I hope I didn’t almost out you-” And, oh was it sickeningly sweet how much both of them cared about different things, but Virgil should really cut in before it gets worse.

“Look, it’s fine. I’ve told them my preferred name before, they just don’t really use it. Because it’s not my legal name or whatever.” The way all five of them looked at her, seemingly baffled at what she just said, confused Virgil to no end. “Err, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you work at a job, that consistently deadnames and misgenders you?” Remus asked, concern seeping through its voice.

“Because it pays the bills, and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.” Virgil was a bit unsure as what else to say, she really didn’t have a choice if she wanted to be able to pay for all the necessities. “I am trying to find another job, but right now it’s not plausible,” storm really didn’t know why she felt so defensive.

“Vee,” Roman starts, staring at her softly, “we aren’t judging you, we’re just concerned.” And oh, Virgil hadn’t meant to make eye contact, honestly, it was mostly painful. But if she could stand eye contact, she would look in both the twins emerald green eyes all day and night.

“Ah, sorry-”

“Why are you apologizing? Did my brother said you did anything wrong? No, because you didn’t. He was just clearing up a misunderstanding. But if you want, we can pay you to be our personal tutor’s. How does $20 an hour sound?” And Virgil stilled at that, not sure what to do. 

“A-are you sure? That’s a lot of money, especially since tutoring sessions can be long.”

“Look, absolutely no offense to you, but I’d pay you $100 per hour if it meant I never had to deal with Sally again,” Roman said dryly, and oh, was Virgil glad to know that there was no way Roman had even the smallest crush on Sally.

“Okay, um, then yeah, I can tutor you all, do you want to do group or individual sessions?”

“Group for now, and maybe, if any of us have extra money and need help, we can do individual sessions next,” Janus supplied, faer voice sounding uninterested, but Virgil could see the intrigue in their eyes. Virgil nodded, and the next day she sent in storm’s two day notice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few months, Virgil was turning 19 soon, and both of his crushes were 20 and 21 respectively. Still, storm’s feelings for them weren’t going away anytime soon. So he had decided, he would tell both the siblings that he liked them within a week. 

“Remy, you just don’t understand! They’re so cute and sweet and kind, and honestly I think this is something amazing that’s happening. If I can just get the guts to ask them out. You don’t understand-”

“Right hun, because I don’t understand how simping for someone else feels,” Remy rolled their eyes, sounding slightly annoyed. “Now where’s the part where you tell them?”

And that’s how Virgil started telling a very long story. “Well, I was gonna tell them on Monday, but when I saw them they were kind of flirting with another guy. And I didn’t know if maybe one or both of them were dating that guy. I found out later that day, that they were just being friendly with him because he’s a cool guy, and flirting is just their dynamic. Which y’know kinda makes me feel jealous a little, and maybe hopeless, because I thought that they might be flirting with me because they like me, but it could just be because that’s our dynamic, and do I really need to ruin our dynamic with my stupid feelings.” Virgil breathed in and out heavily after that. Speaking fast, because the siblings could be at the cafe soon, and Virgil honestly couldn’t risk them finding out before storm was ready. “Then on Tuesday, they were busy studying for a few tests for their english class and overall I was really busy with commissions, and I also knew I wasn’t ready to tell them yet. On Wednesday I meant to tell them after tutoring was done, but then everyone was there, and I don’t know if I want everyone to see me embarrass myself trying to make a love confession, and then a thought occurred to me. What if they thought I was just getting closer to them to get with them? I wasn’t doing that, but what if they thought that. Surely they would hate me, and because they’re friends with everyone else,” Virgil gasped for air mid sentence, looking around the room for any sign of the twins, they weren’t due to show up yet, and were almost always late. But still Virgil couldn’t risk them finding out from storm rambling to Remy. “then everyone else would hate me. Throughout the whole day Thursday, I meant to tell them, but then my mind was all like ‘would they even like you back, and what would you do if they don’t, it would be too awkward to stay friends, wouldn’t it?’ And so I backed out. Cause I’m really scare of ruining my friendship with them becuase I have feelings and they don’t.” Virgil’s speech was slowing down a little bit, but that was only due to the lack of breath that storm was taking in. So he took a few to breathe in and out deeply, and quadruple checked the room to make sure that the twins still weren’t there to continue rambling. “Friday was weird, because I actually almost told them. Roman, Remus, and I were just hanging out at the park, and I got cold, and they both offered me one of their jackets, and honestly how could I say no. And is that a sign they were flirting with me? Anyways, they each handed me a jacket, but before I could say anything, I remembered that I never asked them about their thoughts on polyamory before, and if they would ever, like, share a boyfriend. That sounds weird, but you know what I’m trying to say,” Virgil interrupted stormself again, gasping for breath again because he kept losing all of the oxygen in his lungs due to the fact that storm was trying to get this all out in one go. He caught Remy’s eyebrow raise, and could tell that storms friend was actually invested in whatever was going on in his love life.

“Hun, maybe you should take a few to breathe before continuing.”

“No time Remy, both of them will be here in maybe a few minutes, and I’m confessing to them today, at this cafe. Where I officially got to meet them y’know? Anyways, where was I…”

Remy sighed, knowing they weren’t going to convince Virgil to slow down on his storytelling. “Alright hun, you were at the part where you said you were just thinking about their thoughts on polyamory, and whether or not they’d be fine with you dating both of them.”

“Oh yeah, so that was on Friday, and I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding weird, so I kept trying different topics of small talk, like, isn’t the sky pretty, kind of small talk. And eventually we got on the topic of polyamory, although I don’t remember how,” Virgil started looking around again, trying to make sure that neither Roman nor Remus were here yet. Thankfully storm didn’t see either of them. It really was a good thing that Remus and its brother were always running late. “And eventually I learned that not only were they fine dating the same person as their other brother, but they both actually have a crush on the same person. And while I know that they probably don’t like me like that, I have to tell them before I can move on y’know? Like I want to be happy for them when they get into a relationship with the person they like. But I can’t do that unless I tell them I like them.”

“Alright babes, I have a few questions. One, how do you know they don’t like you? Yes, you do have to answer that question with actual facts. Two, how do you know that, if the person they like isn’t you, they would get into a relationship with them? And three. How The Fuck do you talk so fast?” Virgil stilled at that, not quite sure how to anwer the questions that storm’s best friend just posed.

“Well, for the first question, I know I’m really self-deprecating, and I’m not that attractive. Plus I’m kind of small for someone my age, and they have said before that dating someone small could be a problem because kissing them would be harder, and so I’d have to be worth the effort for them to bend down and kiss, and honestly Remy, I don’t think I am. Plus if they liked me wouldn’t I have noticed by now?” Virgil gasped and looked around the cafe again for those two. Thankfully, it seemed like they were running late. “As for your second question, who wouldn’t want to get into a relationship with them? They’re cute, sweet, handsome, stunning, smart, adorable, kind, beautiful, pretty, intelligent and despite the sometimes crude subjects that they bring up, both of them are really compassionate, like that time when-”

“I get it hun, they’re cute, kind, and smart. But, no offense, I wouldn’t date them, they aren’t my type. Also, remember not to idolize them, as that’s not healthy for anyone. Like, babes, I’m not saying that they aren’t cute, kind, and smart. I’m saying don’t put them on a pedestal. It gives them hopeless expectations to live up to, and it hurts you when they can’t live up to it. It’s not pretty, remember my relationship before Emile? That’s why it went so sour. Also, please stop putting yourself down like that hun, I get feeling that way, but saying it outloud to yourself makes it worse. I know this from experience.”

Virgil had to stop for a minute, and made a note to also acknowledge the mistakes that the siblings made, instead of only focusing on what they did right. It wasn’t good for anyone for storm not to acknowledge what they did that ticked him off, or was downright wrong. “Alright Remy, I promise not to idolize them, I definitely don’t want what happened to you to happen to me. And I’ll try not to, actually with the paycheck I’m getting from all my new friends, I’ll probably be able to get into therapy, since we’ve discussed that that would be a good thing for me to do too.”

“Now hun, you don’t get to ignore my third question either,” Remy said, before adding, “but it looks like your dates are here, so I’ll take my leave.” Virgil blushed and hissed at them, before turning around and seeing two twins grinning and standing behind where storm’s back used to be.

“So, lovely stormcloud, I heard you wanted to meet us here. Could I ask what this is about?” Roman asked, his voice smooth as silk, and his face held a playful smirk to it.

“U-uh, yeah, just give me a minute, I got sidetracked and need to remember what I was going to say.”

“Well it wasn’t to brutally murder us, but maybe poison? Nah, too many people around, you’d never get away with it, unless…” Remus joked, bouncing on the soles of its feet. 

“No, I did not bring you here to murder you. Neither of you have made my hitlist, yet…” Virgil trailed off trying to sound ominous. Although it definitely helped that storm had been getting better at making his voice deeper. 

“Oh? What do we have to do to make it on their?” Remus was entirely too excited for being told that it could end up being on a hitlist.

“Uh, haven’t figured that out yet?”

“Oh, that’s kind of sad, I wanted to be first on your hitlist!” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, before remembering why storm had brought those to here. 

“Err, there’s something th-that I h-have to t-tell you, a-and,” Virgil was having trouble breathing all of a sudden. And storm’s hands were really clammy now, and this was a stupid idea, there’s no way they’ll ever like you back, what are you doing!

And then he felt something cold against storm’s neck. “Stormcloud, I know you want to tell us something, but if you’re not ready we can just hang out and chill. Don’t force yourself to do something you’re not ready for.”

“Yeah, how are we supposed to fill Roman’s shampoo with sickly green hair dye, if you’re panicking.” Roman rolled his eyes, but smiled a little when Virgil snorted a little at that. If you’re gonna do it, do it now before you back out coward!

“I- just- there’s something I need to say, and if I could just kiss you…” Virgil eventually managed to get out, storm’s eyes scared of rejection from either of the two siblings, but willing to risk everything because these feelings were too much for storm. Both Roman and Remus looked at eachother, before Roman walked over to Virgil. And despite Virgil wearing two inch platforms, he was still smaller than both of them, and it showed. Because when Roman got close to storm, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little small considering with the platforms he stood at 5’4. And Remus and Roman were both 5’8

“All you had to do was ask, stormcloud.”

“Also we kind of figured you liked us both,” Remus said as it started to walk behind Virgil, and eventually wrapping his arms around storm. “You weren’t good at hiding it. Just wanted you to tell us without feeling pressured.” After that Roman lifted Virgil’s chin up with two fingers and kissed him softly and sweetly. Then, after Roman was done kissing him, Remus turned Virgil around and kissed him roughly and passionately.

[twilightown]

Kairi is through with her training. It's time for her to take charge and to go on her own journey. Journey with her as she visits various worlds inhabited by characters familiar to all of us as she searches for answers.You never know who she'll run into next.

Chapter 1/?

Humble beginnings for me as an author. :)

“You’d only get in my way.”

                                “You’re not ready yet.”

“You require motivation.”

                                “Will you continue your training as you were before?”

“What difference does one little light make?��� 

                                “I need to become stronger.”

“If you have a dream, don’t wait. Act.”

                               “You’re the fire that feeds Sora’s anger.”

—

Enough.

Her intention was to sneak in, drop off the crumpled letter, and go. There wouldn’t be a better opportunity. Riku was searching for Sora, Donald and Goofy were still sharing the group’s findings among the different worlds, and she felt ready. Aqua had trained her exceptionally well. The master had understood the intensity, the eagerness, her haste and hunger.

Kairi had felt ready for a while if she was being honest with herself. It was time. She’d checked in with Yen Sid at his dusty tower often, to see if any news of her friends had come to light. She wanted to be the first to know. Often, he’d be conferring with Merlin, with the good fairies, with Fairy Godmother, someone. She’d reached her limit on ancient magical beings discussing more ancient, more magical beings as well as their mystique. She couldn’t sit around any longer, couldn’t spar any longer, couldn’t wait around. At her core, she’d felt at fault for Sora’s destiny. Theirs were intertwined, afterall. If only I’d been quicker.

If only I’d been stronger.

If only I had stayed back.

If only…

She had to do something. Leaving by myself with no plan is something… Isn’t it?

“My dear, whatever are you doing here alone?” A sweet voice spoke.

Kairi whipped around, not expecting to be caught. The surprise held her tongue. The Fairy Godmother’s dark eyes spotted her letter, left on Yen Sid’s empty desk. “Ah. Your journey’s beginning then?”

After hesitating a second too long, Kairi nodded. Maybe it was the embarrassment of being caught, the guilt in leaving at such a moment but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the older woman.

“Well, I suppose you can’t go in that.” Fairy Godmother caught Kairi by surprise for the second time. Kairi looked up finally. Fairy Godmother. wore a grin from ear to ear. “I can’t?” Her first words of the night, finally opening up her chest as they were voiced.

Fairy Godmother shook her head, her hood following behind her. “I’d like to give you a gift. You’ll need… Hm…” She then was suddenly by Kairi’s side, using her wand this way and that, lifting Kairi’s small arms. Kairi watched in anticipation. “Let’s see, your size… and the shade of your eyes… mhm. Something bold, but powerful. Oh, just leave it to me!”

The small smile that spread across Kairi’s face was powerful, indeed.

Her heart felt light as Fairy Godmother said the words.She closed her eyes in anticipation. “Bippity Boppity Boo!”

Light engulfed Kairi for not the first time. When her eyes finally opened, she scanned her new outfit. 

She’d been given a beautiful, long pink coat that stopped at her knees. Underneath the coat, she saw a pearl-white blouse which reminded her of Namine. A short, black skirt had been accented with pinks and purples in the seams that popped. Finally, a set of black boots reached halfway up her legs. It made her feel grown, respected, and finally seen as the wielder she was. She couldn’t stop admiring the new look. The clothes gave her a confidence she hadn’t felt in recent memory. 

A new voice entered. “Well well, already?”

Stroking his long beard, Merlin stepped up to the women. He eyed Kairi up and down and turned his gaze to Fairy Godmother. He nodded in approvement at the new set of clothes, and focused back on the wielder. 

“And what is the plan?” He demanded.

Kairi stammered, biting her lip finally. 

Merlin understood her impulsivity immediately. “I see, I see. Not fully formed yet. Powerful word there - yet. May I assist? I have just the thing!”

Joy entered Kairi’s chest at the kindness these magical beings had shown her. She nodded. “Yes, please.”

Merlin waved his own wand, and a faint light partnered with a weight sat on Kairi’s shoulder. As the light faded, a familiar piece of machinery was nestled in the space.

“For me? Armor?” Kairi questioned.

“Not just armor! A glider! It’ll help you find your way and guide you from world to world as you travel. It’ll also allow you to return to us. Safe and unharmed, one can hope.” Merlin said.

“I… Thank you. Both of you.” Kairi beamed, grateful for the gifts they’d bestowed. Especially the gift of freedom; that they were allowing her to go. “How can I repay your kindness?”

“You can get home safe.” Fairy Godmother demanded.

“It’d be nice if you could bring back our wayward boys also. This had better be the last time Sora gets himself lost.” Merlin chimed in.

Kairi nodded. “I’ll try my best to bring them back. With all I have in me.” She hugged the both of the older magicians, stretching on her tiptoes for Merlin, and took a deep breath.

“I’m ready. But I think… I think I’m scared, too.” 

“Important things wouldn’t be so important without a little fear.” Merlin stated, matter-of-fact. 

She appreciated the wisdom. “I guess you’re right. This feels too important though. I can’t come back empty handed.”

“No one expects you to come back without them. We’re all ready to look also.” With one sentence, Fairy Godmother made Kairi feel calmer.

“We must have you going off, then!” Merlin smirked.

She nodded. “Thank you. Thank you both, again.” 

“Safe travels!” “We will be seeing you soon, dear.”

With that, Kairi tapped the space on her shoulder. As the light faded, she was surrounded by metallic armor on a glider. 

Now all she had to do was go.

[charmixpower]

Ranking the girls Bloomix forms!

Bloomix is kinda mid? To me??? I like the way it looks more than Believix

1) Bloom

I love the hair! I love different shades of blue??? The dark blue looks so good on her, and I'm absolutely obsessed with the straight up red hair. Her hairstyle fucks too, Bloom loves her braids fr fr. The scale pattern armor FUCKS severely, but the purple and magenta gems kinda suck ass ngl

Her wings fuck too, they look like a actual fire

2) Musa

I hate literally everything going on with the weird solid pink thing at the bottom, but it still looks amazing. She IS the moment. I wish the pinks were maybe blues? Her outfit could use some cold colors aside from her hair. While this is nothing I could imagine s1-3 Musa genuinely wearing it looks good

Musa's twin sister looks amazing this season!

3) Stella

Stella looks like a sunset and I LOVE!! The shawl, the colors, the armor, the wings, the everything it's like a sun set!!! I wish there was more blue, and not ice blue?? Like use a cyan or something, but her hair. But the hair. I've been getting use to to it but I hate it. I'm always obsessed with Stella in purple so this, I love the magenta

4) Flora

Oof, those wings. Poor girl. And that top?? Helppppp. The shawl looks the best on her tho tbh, and her flower skirt + vine heels combo is cute. I like the flowers on her heels and in her hair, love seeing new hairstyles for Flora she looks so great. Her crown also looks so cute and personalized, love love. The heart leaf print on her leggings is so fucking adorable. Just that top, why??

5) Aisha

Aisha looks?? Fine. I hate the boob armor. They put literally zero effort into her wings and leggings. Her shawl is unique and interesting. They somehow decided that she needed to have lighter, nearly ginger, hair and with s8 I can only assume that's with bad intentions. Her wrist cuffs look super cool, her skirt looks awful, the collar of her top looks amazing, she has two weird tiny ass forward facing ponytails on the front of her head that I SWEAR no one else has noticed. It's solidly mid and not Sirenix

Please note that the TWO times they've changed Aisha's hair color for a transformation they made her blonde and a red head

6) Tecna

They put Tecna who wore a full body suit in magic winx when everyone else was wearing crop tops and mini skirts in a sweater, a UGLY sweater with an evil neckline at that, in the armor transformation???? The disrespect! Also they gave the fuck up on her wings

That sweater is so terrible why did you do this to my girl

At least the legging patterns are nice, like the heels too, the shawl is basically a worse version of Aisha's and I can't decide if I love or hate the hair but I'll take it

[valyalyon]

5 Roadside Rhapsody

Previous Post | Next Post SEA MASTER LIST OR #LYONSEA DIVIDERS

CW: public smut, controlling behavior, explicit language. MDNI. 2.7K words.

Rocco was easy to trust, and Angel eventually relented to letting Grace around for drums. By early December, Rocco booked her for one gig to test out her performance on stage.

Grace appeared at the show intoxicated, with her hair up in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a basic grey top, a cropped purple jacket over everything. She had brought her drum kit and Rocco helped her set up before the show.

Angel hung nearby, watching them, bouncing on her toes and smoking her weed vape freely in the nightclub. She chain smoked several hits of the pot, until she felt her throat absolutely on fire. Not wanting to seem uncool, she swallowed the smoke and coughs.

Rocco came off the stage after the drum kit was set up, he walked over to Angel and kissed her on the lips, “gorgeous, Star… the best Angel. You look beautiful watching me.”

She really did. She waited around so pretty, with those wide eyes tracking the passage of time. Her short skirt revealed her bare legs, her high boots helped not make her as short.

He pulled her in for a hug from the waist, squeezing his fingers against her skin. She moaned and looked up at him, “why?”

“You look so good all the time, Star, how can I not want to be inside of you?” He asked, and then felt her pussy while blocking her body from view.

“So fucking hot,” he moaned against her ear.

“Mmm,” Angel moaned, her lip quivering, “we can’t, not out here, and you have a show any minute.”

Rocco nodded his head, “I do… I do, but no one’s here yet and Grace went to the bathroom. Look at you, Star. Come here.”

He took her hand and she let him lead her to the seat the singer had on the stage. He sat himself on the seat, and pulled her onto his lap.

He was already hard, his bulge pressing against her skirt and panties. She rubbed against him just for a second, then got up to unzip his pants and remove his cock.

Rocco’s dick stood at attention as Angel sucked on the tip, and spit all over it. With him now more lubricated, she decided to sit down. She faced away from him, lowering her pussy down around his cock.

Feeling him pulsating, and remembering they had little time, Angel began to speed up. Rocco held her by the hips, thrusting up to meet her bounces. He rubbed her clit with one hand.

She moaned as her body moved against his.

It was hard for her to understand what he wanted from her. At the same time she wasn’t sure what she wanted from him.

Was she just sticking around to have a ride into the next place? She didn’t want to leave his side, she enjoyed everything she got to experience with him, but she worried that forever was still out of reach.

Distracting herself, she felt her pussy squeeze his cock as she entered her orgasm. Just as she did, he began to finish inside of her, holding onto her waist and chuckling. He leaned forward and then kissed her bare shoulder.

Just as Grace cleared her throat, “you two were sure having a fun time.”

Angel blushed, quickly pulling her panties back into place underneath her dress. She avoided Grace’s eyes and got off the stage quickly.

Luckily, Rocco had covered up at the same time she was, so when she sat in her spot he was composed again. He stood up off the chair as Grace started walking towards the stage.

“Maybe you’ll let me give you a better time later,” Grace teased but only Rocco heard her.

He spoke up, slightly annoyed, “Star and I are exclusive. I don’t need anyone else so it will only ever be professional between you and I.”

While not pleased, Grace merely grumbled out a half hearted, “whatever.” Then, she got in her place on the stage.

Angel had heard what he said and was pretty pleased by it. She kicked her feet as people began to fill the club.

With Lazarus there had always been lies that were uncovered, but she felt that she understood him until the end. Sometimes she didn’t really think she understood Rocco at all, but other times the two would write together for hours.

Watching him on the stage was just seeing him live a dream she couldn’t see herself in. In that moment they were in the Lilac Gorge and they still had one another but… Laguna Hills?

She knew he would get famous just from watching him perform in the town clubs. New people, locals, one off transient travelers — everyone couldn’t help but stop to listen to Radio Boy and they’d come back if they were in town, if not they’d send friends.

This was already spreading and soon, Radio Boy’s voice would be the talk of the entire Red Highway. A part of Angel worried that if it spread too far, he’d gather Leviathan’s attention. She’d be found.

Who knew how angry he was.

As the show started to come to an end, Angel took note of the full room lit in purple and blue lights. Everyone had been so entranced with Rocco. They were magnetized to him and that stage.

Grace’s drums played nice with Rocco guitar and voice, so Rocco inquired Grace on meeting them in Laguna Hills in January.

Backstage with Angel and Rocco, Grace responded, “That should be enough time for me to figure a way out there.”

Rocco nodded his head, “we can’t take you, so you would have to be able to have your own way there.”

Angel was resting under Rocco’s arm, he was so tall. Easily 6’2”. She always felt tiny beside him and she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed it.

“Yeah, I’ll have it figured out… we’re going to keep playing shows?” She asked, her intoxication showing.

He was irritated by her drinking, his eyebrow slightly twitching. Turning his attention to Angel, he littered her face with hot kisses.

She jumped and kissed him back, touching his face that he’d so graciously put before her so she wouldn’t have to stretch.

Grace got louder. She raised her voice, spitting out through vodka breath, “shows? More? Here?”

Rocco turned back to her and responded with no lack of irritation in his tone, “yes. We will have more shows but you’re drunk and I want you doing better next time.”

“Hmm, sure,” Grace shrugged.

Angel watched the interaction with confusion, but with a weird feeling as if she had seen these two married before. She couldn’t explain the thought, and she actually enjoyed life with Rocco… so she wasn’t ready to give him up.

Angel reached out and grabbed Rocco by the arm again, turning his attention back to her, “time to go back to the van… I need you.”

Grace scoffed, and turned around to leave.

…

I cycle through hoes, I gaze on the lotus… You blow up a phone, we didn’t even notice ‘cause we was just vibing.

Angel knew in her rational mind that she wouldn’t be guaranteed a life with Rocco. The reality was that Rocco needed perfection in his art and life.

He didn’t always show it, and Angel often seemed like the perfect woman. But, she wasn’t stupid to it. She saw the way that he hated Grace for making even a slight mistake on stage, and she had felt his judgmental eye before.

As December crept by in the Lilac Gorge, Angel and Rocco had one of their only fights. It was closer to the end of the month, and Rocco was preparing for a show.

He was sitting in the passenger seat of the van while Angel dressed in the back, in his arms was his guitar, and he was strumming notes to practice.

His anxiety levels had only been getting higher as they neared the day they’d set off for Laguna Hills, so he looked at the time and spoke up, “are you ready yet? We don’t have much time.”

Just a second later, Angel shouted she was ready. Rocco got out of the van and met her outside, but quickly got angry, “what are you wearing?”

It was late December, night-time, and there was a cold breeze with a temperature below 30 degrees Fahrenheit. In other words, it was cold and Angel had chosen to wear some leather pants, a thin purple long sleeve shirt, with her white fur jacket.

She looked great, but Rocco was beyond pissed.

“It’s cold, Rocco, I don’t want to wear a dress,” she explained, defending her outfit.

“Okay, well, I didn’t ask. Get changed, you’re not going to my show dressed like that,” Rocco was stressed from his desire for perfection.

Angel was irritated, “you’ve got to be joking.”

Rocco turned her around, getting her to go back into the van and following her in, “I’m going to be world famous one day, I never want you looking bad beside me.”

She turned to face him but he turned her around again. This time he grabbed a dress from her clothes, and started to undress her. Exasperated, “I can dress myself, thank you!”

“Well clearly you can’t. Finish getting dressed,” he pulled away, watching her to make sure she did what he asked.

She did finish getting dressed in the dress he picked out, putting her white boots on and her white fur coat. She was pissed, though.

As they made their way down the streets of the Lilac Gorge towns to the night club, Angel was shivering from the cold.

Rocco had his arm draped around her, and spoke to her in a low voice as they neared a crowd outside the club, “you look much better now. When everyone sees you with me, I know they see how perfect we are.”

Angel still enjoyed spending time with him, and was still attracted to him, because she ignored any red flag and followed him to her seat.

He kissed her as she sat down. Then he got on the stage where Grace was already waiting. The doors opened and the crowd moved into the little night club space to party and listen to Rocco.

Angel faded in as she always did. Listening to his amazing voice as the crowd started to sing songs back to him. Typical popular radio favorites for the area but… they loved to hear him sing it all.

Angel noticed groups of people within the crowd. Some groups were the transient mixes of people — they were people like Angel and Rocco. Other groups were made up of older locals — whether Red Highway or Lilac Gorge locals, there were both.

There seemed to be an even split, but Angel noticed an anomaly among the crowd that night. By himself in a corner, a man in his late 50s sat. What was so weird about him is that he reminded Angel of Lazarus, but older.

The man had grays in his pitch black hair and beard, the distance giving him pitch black eyes. He didn’t wear a leather jacket, instead a bomber jacket the older military men would wear. Atop his head was a cowboy hat, and he reminded her of a reformed Lazarus.

She couldn’t think about it for too long, as she felt everything shake. This wasn’t an earthquake, instead the familiar sound of motorcycles rolled in. In less than a minute, the night club doors began to open.

She tore her eyes away to see behind her. Into the nightclub entered 5 biker men, and she quickly focused on their faces to see if she recognized any of them.

The men didn’t look familiar, but that didn’t settle Angel’s anxieties. She knew that LJ’s gang was always growing, with new men recruited into their ranks every week.

The group walked towards that corner where the older man sat. They sat down at his table, and as they did, Angel met the old man’s eyes. They still looked pitch black, and he seemed to start to smile, before his attention turned to the group of bikers.

At first, Angel decided she would just ignore the men. However, as she continued to listen to Rocco’s singing, she found herself getting more nervous. Another group of biker men had entered the club. This time, their faces were recognizable.

She wasn’t sure exactly who they were, but they appeared to be lower-ranked members of LJ’s gang. She vaguely remembered the men being there the night that Fox raped her, they were among the crowd of young faces around the campfire.

Angel knew very well that they would recognize her. She had been their boss’s girl, and had been fucked by him in front of them on multiple occasions. So, as the new gang members started to join the space, Angel got up from her chair and made her way backstage.

She would have just hidden in the changing room, but her worry was increasing. She was shaking as she paced backstage. Overwhelmed by the emotions, Angel stormed out the back door into the open air.

She breathed in and out sharply, feeling the breath as it filled her lungs. Her rib cage, too small for her body, tightened. She felt her eyes filling with tears, as the fear and reality of the situation started to settle in for her.

The back door opened again and Rocco joined her outside, his voice worried, “you alright?”

“I think those bikers are part of my ex’s gang,” Angel explained. She was doubled over on the floor, trying not to throw up.

“Did they recognize you?” Rocco seemed concerned.

She started to rise to her feet, “they didn’t see me as far as I know. Definitely not my face.”

Rocco nodded his head, and then looked behind him, “there’s at least 30 men out front with a few women…”

Her eyes widened but she nodded, “they look like every gang on the Red Highway but I recognized the second group of men.”

He sighed and then said, “well, we’ll go then. Let me tell Grace to wrap it up, I’ll talk to the owner and then come back out… Should only take me five minutes. You wait here?”

She paused, but then agreed, “yeah.”

He nodded, noticing her odd behavior, and then rushing back into the club to get everything done.

All alone again, Angel stood there. She stared up at the night sky for a second, the cold air making her legs turn red. She remembered Lazarus seeing her bruised legs the morning she left.

Her eyes went from the sky down to the red splotches on her thighs. Her white skin was pink and crimson. She wondered, drearily in her cold misery, if she could live up to Rocco’s expectations of perfection.

Her tropical island body wasn’t made for a life of cold back alleys. Losing her connection with reality, she decided to walk to the edge of the building and peak at the gang.

Eventually she got a good portion of the gang in her sights. Everyone was waiting in the parking lot, but her focal point was… Lazarus. She felt her chest squeeze as her heart raced, her breath stilling.

Well it’s colder here than anyone told me the South could get.

Lazarus was pacing through the group, shouting indiscernible orders at people. Everyone listened and would disperse as instruction was given. His pacing didn’t cease, though.

She could tell from having spent time with him. He was hurting, struggling and she could see it all over his face and demeanor.

Not wanting to see his pain anymore, she quickly made her way to the backdoor to wait for Rocco.

Just seconds later, he stepped out, and draped his long arm over her shoulder. He guided her back to the van and helped her in once they arrived.

Only two posts left in Rocco's story! I finished writing the last post yesterday and I am so glad I'm done. I love Rocco but I definitely made a lot of changes to the ending of his story.

SONG REFERENCES Stealth Mode by J. Cole featuring Bas Great Divide by Ira Wolf

[shadowqueen402]

Amaunts Fatale: Part 1

Finding himself working in a Mafia group was NOT what Leo expected himself to be doing. But after all that had been happening recently, he really had little choice. He glanced at the yellow Drop that now sat in his hand. A mixture of fear and determination clashed with one another inside of him. He really didn't see himself as, well, a Mafia member. But if it meant saving Emma and the others, he would do so.

"Since you are now an official member, we have work to do," Balan said. "And that requires training for you."

"Training?" Leo asked. "Will I be able to use weapons?"

"In due time, young one." Balan adjusted his hat. "But for right now, I'd like you to meet someone. She's quite skilled in weaponry, you know. She also aids me in stopping our foe."

"Okay?" Leo wasn't exactly sure if he was ready to meet other members of this Mafia. But if they were on Balan's side and desire to help him stop Lance, he really didn't see why he should refuse the offer.

Balan nodded and motioned for Leo to follow him. The two made their way down the hall where sounds of bullets being fired were heard. Leo flinched at the noise. "Please tell me that the person is training…" He looked up at Balan.

Balan knocked on the door, causing the bullets to stop. "Enter," A woman's voice called. Balan opened the door and led Leo inside a room that was obviously used for training.

A young woman who was twenty years of age turned to face them while wielding a revolver. She had wavy, amber brown hair that was tied in a high ponytail, fair skin, and rosy red eyes. She wore a royal blue sleeveless top with a sweetheart neckline that exposed her midriff, a short royal blue pencil skirt, black opera gloves, and black gladiator heels. She also sported a pearl necklace and pearl earrings.

"I wasn't aware that we have a new member," The woman said to Balan, smiling at him.

"We sure do," Balan said. "Aria, meet our newest member as he will be working with me, my cousin, and you."

"Uh, I'm Leo Craig," Leo introduced himself to her. "It's nice to meet you… I joined because I need help saving my friend. As well as the people who went missing."

"So you've heard what's been happening." The woman placed her pistol away. "Likewise for me. This was partially why I agreed to help Balan locate them after he explained to me everything."

"Partially?" Leo asked. "What's the other reason? How did you and Balan meet?"

Aria smiled at Leo. "You will know in due time," She assured. "But I recall Balan mentioning about wanting to introduce to you to his cousin. I think you should meet them first. Then, after we get you started on training, you'll receive the answers that you're looking for."

"Cousin?" Leo was confused, to say the least. "I didn't know that Balan had a cousin. I do know that Lance is his brother…"

"Balan is a man of many surprises," Aria replied. "There are lots of things that you have yet to know about him. Even I had no clue that he had a cousin until Balan mentioned them to me."

"They're mostly in my office hanging around," Balan said. "That is where they can usually be found." He motioned for Leo and Aria to follow him. The two exited the training room and followed Balan to his office.

Inside the office was a being that floated in midair. They had a purple striped jester hat on their head, beige skin, and blue eyes with cat-like pupils. They wore a white suit over a pink dress shirt with a purple bowtie and pink boots.

The being noticed Balan, Aria, and Leo and flew to them. "Ooh! A new member!" They said. "Who is this person, cousin?"

"My name is Leo Craig," Leo introduced. "I'm here to help you three stop Lance. You're Balan's cousin?"

"Yep, NiGHTS is the name." NiGHTS placed their hands on their hips. "Since introductions are made, I'm sure you're ready to receive training if you haven't already? If you want to stop Lance, this is the only way."

Leo nodded, his fear fading away. With enough training, he'll be able to save everyone.

Aria belongs to me.

[meat-wentz]

i saw your post about gerard/costumes and just wanted to say it made me emotional and stuff kthxbye. i was wondering if you were comfortable elaborating on some of the costume parties you went to? they sound so cool and i wanna know what theme warranted a machine gun cheerleader.

omg!!!! ty and also i’d love to go over some of the most iconic ones, most of them are already in that post, but i’ll go over them in more depth:

the extra party: theme was extra af, this was a bday party for me entirely because i wanted to dress as a glitter cowboy. backless champagne strappy mini dress, layered with rhinestone gold mesh bra and rhinestone choker, gold cowboy hat with a tiara, pink velvet heels. there was a lot of fur and a lot of wigs at this party. had a gold glitter banner that said “happy bday cunt” which is still one of my favorite things i’ve ever custom ordered.

trashy lingerie party against capitalism: commonly known as lingerie party 1. exactly what it sounds like. at my friend’s parent’s house. the only chaser was one (1) purple gatorade that was already spiked and soy sauce. there was a lot of hooking up and a 6 person orgy in my friend’s parent’s bed. it was a legendary party but also a total shit show. pretty standard bra, panties, garter belt, thigh highs and heels. followed by lingerie party 2: the squeakquel, impromptu lingerie party, the red white and blue lingerie party, and the “dress to get screwed” party (very fun i had a belt around my throat that we used as a leash for multiple guests).

a very greasy homecoming: greaser/50’s inspired party complete with a rockabilly band that played on the porch, everyone had leather jackets and greased hair and switchblade combs. i wore a gunne sax pink strapless dress complete with tulle skirt and ruffled sweetheart neckline black flats and a leather jacket.

neonoir ((party)): a decadent neon night complete with all blue, pink, and red lighting and an insane playlist. i went full hotline miami in a letterman jacket, pig mask and baseball bat. there was a full sized glow in the dark skeleton in the bathroom (a recurring guest, his name is skelly, also married to the other recurring guest, a graffitied full sized mannequin without arms or a head named manny).

historical drag party: i don’t know what i even went as it was so long ago but i do remember that my friend came as edgar allen hoe and looked so like edgar allen poe that i nearly died. they had a raven and everything. i don’t even remember anyone else’s costumes.

different ways to die party: my 20th birthday and my favorite theme, probably the most poppin off party i’ve ever hosted. i painted bruises around my neck. my friend made me a miami vice werewolf cake. various costumes included: shark attack, struck by lightning, gunshots, slit throats, generally bloody and bashed. was a fuckin banger of a party, very cathartic.

the lcd soundsystem funeral party: a going away party for a friend. everyone wore black suits with skinny ties. i wore a black dress. we listened to lcd soundsystem all night. gradually dissolved until i almost walked face first into someone lighting hairspray on fire for fun. end of an era party.

alien pajama party: like it says. i still carry around a little alien toy in my jacket pocket because it’s lived in there since this party.

21st holy communion: double bday party/christening a new party house. wore a veil and a slip dress. ate vodka gummy bears from a giant bowl. insanely packed party, lots of randos (due to house location). notable for chairs breaking, the biggest after party slumber party, biggest hangover clean up crew, no sleep till brooklyn, and a friend voluntarily getting shot in the ass with a blow dart in the driveway.

hedonist party: roman/greek gods and goddesses party. i was mercury and had wings on my sandals and a little white tennis outfit i thought it was cute. lots of wine.

a very twin peaks party: we drank coffee and ate pie and had baguettes with butter and brie, dressed up and watched a bunch of twin peaks all day. this is actually different than when i was laura palmer (boy meets christmas 90’s television party), i was bobby briggs for this party it was a big gender moment for me.

old hollywood spooktacular: not a very successful theme i was primarily the only person dressed to occasion everyone else was just gothy. 19th bday. i have spoken about this before but my crush didn’t show up so i spent most of this party openly crying in front of all my guests and someone had gifted me a vibrating cock ring as a joke and i tied my hair up with it on vibrate while sobbing my little heart out. very iconic moment for me. it’s my party and i’ll cry if i want to swag.

internet royalty party: me and a couple friends were tumblr famous at this point in time so we had an internet royalty party to gas up our shitty little egos. took a shot every time someone walked through the door, ended up plastered in the first ten minutes, apparently i held a class on how to smoke cigarettes outside, had to be carried to the car.

sticker and glitter party: lmao we were washing out the glitter from our hair for months. i got a temporary glitter tat on my chest that didn’t completely go away for like 3 weeks and i had to go to class with it. the carpet never recovered.

80s christmas goth night: i went as an 80s goth marie antoinette with fishnets, velvet shorts, full black lace bustle train, velvet corset, and shoulder padded black blazer with white face makeup, pink cheeks, bottom eyeliner straight out to the edge of my face, and little black lips like a doll, piled all my hair up and had chains hanging from it. i gave a friend a lap dance to santa baby.

and finally: nye and halloween parties were kind of our fucking thing, the two biggest nights of the year. so machine gun cheerleader actually started out as an assassination nation costume but no one had seen the movie yet (it had come out the month before) so i changed it around to machine gun cheerleader. i have also been nurse 3d (at an event we call: shitshow halloween, literally so bad for every person there for entirely separate reasons), hellboy (my best costume to date), the attic bride from haunted mansion complete with a glowing beating red heart in my dress, jennifer check, most recently joan of arc which was an under appreciated costume imo. nye typically has a theme of extravagance but the only all out theme we’ve ever done was new year’s feve which was a disco party because my roommate and i had just watched saturday night fever and really vibed.

notable mentions: 2012 end of the world rapture party, big hair, various drag parties, hell, bad trip, murder mystery, the annual lotr marathon (we have to start at like noon), goth princess, century icons, end of the semester zombie party, scene kid karaoke, oh god i feel like there’s more but alas my memory hath failed me after close to 8 years of parties.

THIS WAS REALLY FUN THANK YOU ANON I JUST TOOK A CRAZY WALK DOWN MEMORY LANE.

[grumpyascianteddybear]

Alright, time for a new ficlet with a song to go with it. Before we get to that, I need to give credit for the idea/concept of Zodibus to @seatedsacrifice . Thank you for giving me permission to use that, and be aware that the shippy aspect of this fic does not apply to you or Ophi unless you want it to.

Also, a reminder of rule nine. If you need to learn what rule nine is, then pop over to the rules page and take a look. Also, I'd like to point out that this fic is NSFW. If you need a tag to blacklist, my NSFW tag is gonna be zodiarks corner(nsfw). I think all my bases are covered now. Fic will be under the cut.

Hadianna had changed out of her armor and into dancers' attire. She enjoys singing or dancing for her dinner when given a chance, and this was one of those chances. The cascading crimson fabric billowed around her legs as she walked onto the stage. The skirt was also open on the sides, leaving her hips and the sides of her legs to be seen. A fixed to the skirt appeared to be gold coins that jingled as she walked and accentuated the sway of her wide hips. 

Once on center stage, she took hold of the mic and looked out over the crowd. Her top stopped under her breasts, and the plunging neckline left nothing to the imagination. The sleeves were sheer with a golden cuff with more coins giggling around her wrists. The whole outfit was made to draw attention to her as she danced or sang, and it certainly did that. The fact that she was a bigger girl that wasn’t afraid to flaunt her figure made her very desirable to many, though the ring on her finger said that she was taken. It never stopped some from trying, and she always shot them down as she only had eyes for one person.

As the band got ready to play, a jolt ran through her as an energy she had only ever felt once before flooded the room. Her eyes fluttered as a shiver moved through her. Though not normally sensitive to such things, this was a shift felt by all. People turned around to find a man with white hair that went down just past his shoulders. Though his clothes would have been considered normal, the dark color did stand out a bit in the desert. The Uldah mask that he wore was also not something that people would have paid much mind to. Though, the glowing purple cracks that ran down his cheeks did cause whispers in the crowd. Not that he kept their attention for long as the music started.

“My hands are searching for you/My arms are outstretched toward you/I feel you on my fingertips” Hadi started, her voice taking on a haunting quality that was almost reverent. Her eyes meeting his as her arms stretch out in front of her. He was so far away, and yet something told her that it wouldn’t last for long. She is keenly aware of how his last visit with her went. “My tongue dances behind my lips for you/This fire runs in through my being/”Burning, I'm not used to seeing you”

Her body sways to the music as she watches him. Only she and the Ascians are aware that Zodiark’s consciousness is able to take over Elidibus. Perhaps the primal can do it with the other unsundered as well. It's hard to say. She only knows because of being so close to Elidibus, though she much preferred to call him Themis. The other Ascians tended not to argue since they were married, though Lehebread hated it. “I'm alive/I'm alive”

“I can feel you all around me/Thickening the air I'm breathing/Holding on to what I'm feeling” There was a rush that burned through her making her light-headed as a pleased smile graced his lips. She knew what lay behind the mask. Solid purple eyes that glowed with an otherworldly light.  Hadi knew those eyes were appreciating what she was wearing at the moment. 

A breath is drawn for the next line as he starts to move, walking toward the stage. The closer he gets, the more light-hearted she becomes. The adrenalin in her veins climbed higher as his energy thickened around her. Hadi knows he isn’t gonna like that; she has been marked by Hydalyn. Granted, she really didn’t get much choice in the matter. “Savoring this heart that's healing”

“My hands float up above me/And you whisper you love me/And I begin to fade” Her arms move to float above her head as she continues to sway. The almost slow pace of the song made the movement almost sensual. She can hear him, his footfalls on the wooden stage as he comes to stand behind her. So close that her body brushes against his as she sways to the music. “Into our secret place/The music makes me sway/The angels singing say, "We are alone with you”/I am alone, and they are too with you”

Her eyes flutter closed As she feels one of his hands slip beneath her skirt. Hadianna has to stop the sound that threatens to escape her as she feels his claws dig into her thigh. His other glides over back, rewarding him with the sound she had been trying to hold in. Zodiark knew what Themis did, and that meant all of her sensitive spots. The deep timber of his voice as he breathed against her ear caused a shiver that likely filled him with glee. “ Don’t stop now, Hadianna. The show must go on.”

She was forced to look at him as his hand circled her throat and his thumb came to rest against the underside of her chin. This was a possessive power trip for him. He got to show off to everyone here who she belonged to. Hadianna would have been lying if she said it didn’t turn her on. His hold on her causes her body to press back against his as she continues to sway to the music. The constant friction sets her body aflame more than it already was. “I'm alive/I'm alive”

“I can feel you all around me/Thickening the air I'm breathing” A gasp left her as she felt him start to draw gentle circles with the tips of his claws. Each time the circle threaded closer to the inside of her thigh. The teasing caused her voice to drop an octave as she continued to sing for him. The crowd at this point was all but forgotten. “Holding on to what I'm feeling/Savoring this heart that's healing”

“And so I cry/The light is dim/And I see you” A shiver went through her before her eyes widened. Hadi was still looking up at him as his thumb was still pressed to the underside of her chin. Thankfully it was easy enough to hide the moan amidst the lyrics as a finger dipped between her legs. The pad now beginning to rub that sweet bundle of nerves. “I'm alive (I'm alive)/I'm alive (I'm alive)/I'm alive”

“I can feel you all around me/Thickening the air I'm breathing” It was harder to sway now and her hands came to rest at the back of his head. Hadianna is doing her best not to pant. The song was almost over and then they could go to a private room. She could hold out until then and she would only be punished for trying to jump his bones. “Holding on to what I'm feeling/Savoring this heart that's healing”

“Take my hand, I give it to you/Now you own me, all I am” Hadianna continues as he rubs her. The pleasure is enough to give her brain fog. Granted, his mere presence gives her brain fog. Just his energy alone sent waves of heat through her as the adrenaline hit. It was a high that she was constantly chasing as she defeated the other primals. None of them did it quite like Zodiark. Perhaps that was also because she knew he had some twisted emotional attachment to her. As the primals emotional and moral center, anyone that Themis was attached to Zodiark was also attached too. “You said you would never leave me/I believe you, I believe”

“I can feel you all around me/Thickening the air I'm breathing” A blush colored her cheeks as she listened to the sweet possessive nothing he whispered as the song was coming to a close. All the things he would do to her once they were alone. Her eyes closed as she tried to focus on ending this fucking song. After that, she could fall and not worry about it without a care in the world with him. “Holding on to what I'm feeling/Savoring this heart that's healed”

A small squeak left her as she was picked up a bit roughly and tossed over his shoulder. Hadianna was by no means light as she was a big girl. That certainly didn’t stop him from acting like she was a feather. She relaxed in his hold and let him carry her up to a private room upstairs. The princess knew that she was going to enjoy what was to come.

[ddwardiswriting]

Chapter 8: Apologies 

A knock sounded at the door, “For gods’ sake daughter, pick simpler outfits if they give you such trouble.”

“Yes father!” I called, “I’m sorry, father!”

I lifted my head. And I looked down at where Amy lay on the bed, her uniform a little more rumpled than it should have been. I pulled myself from atop her and stood up, smoothing my dress as I did. 

“Wow,” Amy whispered as I checked my hair in the mirror. “How is it possible? I've fallen in love at first sight with somebody I’ve known for three years. “

“I don’t know. But I appreciate the second chance.”

I turned to look back at Amy. I got an eyeful of her black lace panties. This was due to the ridiculous short skirt the maid outfit included. That and the crinoline that gave it bounce. I watched as she struggled to escape the enormous bed with difficulty. Her naked thighs rubbed together as she shuffled to the edge of the bed. Her naked legs set my cheeks on fire, and I felt something wonderful stirring from within my own panties. God, she looked good. 

I shook my head to clear it.

“I’d better go before my father becomes irate.” I said as Amy made it off the bed and began fixing her uniform.

“Stay safe then, Ren. I will make your bed and join the family shortly.” 

I stopped. That felt wrong. I couldn’t imagine a relationship working if she had to labor like that on my behalf. I considered what to do. I didn’t have time to address the issue with Amy now. I would have to remember to bring it up later. 

I mulled my situation over as I walked. I’d utterly failed at being the best friend. And I’d failed by acting in Lynn’s best interest. So now what? I needed to repair the damage I’d done, or there was no way that Lynn would listen to me. And then she’d marry Wulfric, and I didn’t want to think beyond that point. 

I found Lynn in the grand hall with the three suitors who weren’t vile abusive monsters. It sounded as though Leon and Vincent were trying to comfort Lynn. The men had not changed, I noticed. Typical. Lynn now wore a pastel blue butterfly sleeve A-line dress; with the same shoes she’d worn earlier. Fiona had changed to an A-line dress as well. The dress was a Mardi Gras purple with modern cap sleeves. Fiona also wore a pair of fire engine red stilettos. This dress also had a plunging neckline and I tried not to stare again. 

I failed.  

"Remember Lynn," Leon was saying as I approached, "Wulfric isn't the ambassador. He doesn't have the authority to declare war on Ys. Only King Hardrada or the Hyperborean Ambassador can do that. And the ambassador isn't a complete villain like- that is, he- never mind."

"We know who and what you meant," I said.

Manfred appeared beside us with a tray of appetizers and drinks. I grabbed a glass of red wine and some sort of soft cheese on a cracker. 

Vincent nodded to me, "Yes we do know who he meant. But more important than that, Leon is right. Wulfric can't declare war himself. He would have to make the ambassador declare war.  And then Agartha would take any hostile actions against Ys as an attack on Agartha herself."

I saw a chance to show my contrition. I could apologize and hopefully heal the rift I’d created. "Which is all well and good," I said, "But I still screwed that up. And I’m sorry, because Wulfric is going to make our lives miserable because of my mistake."

Manfred turned to look at me in surprise, "Lady Karen, did you apologize?"

I sighed and smiled, then nodded to Manfred, "I'm turning over a new leaf. And actually, let me take a moment to apologize to you."

"Whatever for?" Manfred asked.

"Everything," I answered, "My general treatment of you. Too many things, large and small, for me to name them all. I expect I'll be doing a lot of apologizing in the future. But I am sorry."

"Well, thank you Lady Karen. An apology is, of course, unnecessary. But I accept it in the spirit in which you gave it."

"And please, not Lady Karen. Call me Lady Ren." I said.

Manfred cocked his head in surprise, then nodded. 

"You're right though," Leon said, "This will complicate relations with Hyperborea. Even if they don't do something extreme, like declare war. The Hyperboreans can strike back at us in a myriad of petty ways. I am glad you apologized, Ren, that was a serious misstep."

"Indeed," Fiona said.

Vincent nodded, "Yes, Agartha will support Ys. But we don't look forward to conflict with Hyperborea. And you've brought that possibility much closer to becoming a reality."

I flinched under their gazes, "I know. I apologize. I hadn't meant to do it, but it's still my fault. I couldn't restrain myself."

Leon put a hand on my shoulder, "I'll be honest. I am obligated to reprimand you, but I should be thanking you."

I blinked twice, "What? I'm missing something here."

"I was about two seconds away from fracturing his jaw," Leon admitted. "The way he spoke to Lynn was unacceptable."

Lynn blushed, "Thank you Leon. That is very flattering. Or it would be, if all this wasn't causing a diplomatic nightmare."

She stepped forward and gave Leon a gentle kiss on the cheek. I watched as Leon blushed like a sunburn victim. 

Fiona nodded. "Diplomatic nightmare or not, this is at least allowing us to become familiar with each other. One of us four will likely become your betrothed. Now only one of us three. And at least this way you have a chance to get to know us better."

"I'm afraid that is now unnecessary," Lynn said. "I will be sending a messenger to Prince Wulfric. It will be to inform him that I accept his proposal and will marry him if he will still have me."

Fiona shook her head, "That seems ill advised. He will take his fury out on you for his damaged ego."

"It doesn't matter. I don't matter. What matters is Ys."

Leon took a slow step forward, "Ys does matter. But you also matter."

"No. I don't. I never have. But I can do something here that does matter.” She turned to Leon, “I'm sorry to have to disappoint Your Grace. But I have decided my path."

Vincent shook his head, "Assuming that would work. And I want to be clear, I doubt that it will.  But assuming it would work, we have no idea where Prince Wulfric went when he stormed off."

Lynn nodded, "I am confident that the Hyperborean embassy will be able to send him a message. Ren, can I ask you a favor.” 

I nodded, “Anything.”

“Will you deliver my acceptance to the Hyperborean Ambassador?” 

“Anything by that.” I said, flinching back.

“Ren, you wanted to apologize?" Lynn met my eyes and stared without blinking. 

I slumped, I could see what was coming, "Yes. I did. And I do."

"You can do so to the Hyperborean ambassador when you deliver my message."

“Fine. Break my arm, why don’t you. I'll do this for you."

Fiona spoke, "Wait. That could be dangerous. She was the one who insulted the prince. They might not take kindly to Lady Ren's presence in the embassy."

"Lynn has asked me to do this. I'll do this." I said. 

"Indeed," Fiona said. "And I respect your loyalty. I shall accompany you."

Leon held a hand out to stop Fiona, "You can't. Neither of you can. It’s too dangerous."

"Leon, your grace," Fiona answered, "We are the only ones who can. Your rank would escalate things, even if you went to apologize. Vincent can't apologize on behalf of Ys, as he is Agarthan. Ren and I are high enough rank for the apology to be meaningful. But we are of low enough rank that our apology will not weaken the position of Ys as a whole. And I can protect Lady Ren, if the situation turns ugly."

Leon stiffened, "I could protect her. And an apology from me would carry more weight."

"Indeed, an apology from you would carry more weight. And an apology from you would weaken our diplomatic position with Hyperborea. And, to frank your grace, you are a skilled naval commander, but I am an experienced hand to hand combatant.”

“I am competent in combat on land,” Leon said. And then, with a flourish, he produced a palm sized derringer pistol from up his sleeve. He spun the derringer, and it disappeared back into his sleeve.

Fiona nodded, “Practical. I approve. But you have a single shot before you must reload by hand Whereas I am a monster hunter par excellence. Lady Ren will be safe in my care."

I felt myself blushing, “Thank you. I’ll leave myself in your care then. Um. That is, I’ll trust you. Now I suppose it’s my turn to ask that Lynn and I have some privacy for a quick chat.”

“Is this going to become a thing now?” Vincent asked as Lynn and I headed for the same pillar as last time. 

“Alright, what now?” Lynn asked. 

“We need to talk about this.” I said.

“Talk about what? You agreed to deliver the message and apologize. That’s all we can do at the moment.”

“Not that this. Us this. Here this.” I paused and enunciated: “We are in another world.”

“I know that,” Lynn said.

“I don’t think you do. This is the full Narnia here. All Isekai, all the time. And we’ve been going with it like we are these people.”

“What else are we to do?” Lynn asked, “We have no way home. No idea how we got here. Neither of us has much of a life to go back to, even if we wanted to do so. Your family is dead. And I have no contact with what’s left of mine. What else can we do, but play our roles?”

“Our roles? You’re the heroine. I’m the rival. The bloody rival! I’m your best friend, and I’m the god damned rival! You play your role, and you get happily ever after. I play my role, and I get exiled and disinherited! And even leaving that aside, I still can’t do it. My role is to ruin your life! And I refuse to do that!” I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I spoke. 

“You are doing that!” Lynn said, her voice rising to a yell.

“No, I’m not!” I yelled back, “I’m trying to save you from your own martyr complex!”

I caught myself and lowered my voice to a whisper, “We had lives.”

Lynn turned away. I kept talking.

“I was going to be a fashion designer,” I said. I was properly crying now. “You were going to be a nurse. Now we will never be those things.”

“And so, we have to do the right thing here!” Lynn said 

“No, you don’t understand,” I said as tears streamed down my face, “I’ve lost everything from my old life. I’ve lost everything, but you. I don’t want to lose you as well.”

Lynn stopped, and turned to stare at me, “Ren. Don’t. I can’t. I don’t deserve your loyalty. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.” I was still crying, and it was threatening to become an ugly cry. “You’ve had my back since you kicked Jimmy Finegold into the mud for making me cry in first grade. You told me when Lindsay Acres was planning to go full Carrie with the cow’s blood on me. You stopped that creep at The Wednesday Bar from putting that stuff in my drink. You’ve held my hair at the end of so many bar crawls. You were there with a shoulder for me to cry on when my dad died. You have been my friend for as long as I’ve had friends. How many times have you been my only friend? Because I’ve never known how to do the friend thing. And you’ve never minded that. And if saving you means that you hate me, then that’s a price I’m willing to pay. Because you are worth more to me than my own happiness!”

Lynn leaned against the pillar and slid to the floor, her dress bunching as she went. She was crying now as well. And so, we sat there, crying. I don’t know how long we sat there. But, at some point, I heard a tapping on the stone pillar. I looked up. Fiona was standing beside the pillar. She tapped the pillar with the golden cylinder that held her dagger. 

“Am I interrupting? Or have you finished?” She asked in a gentle voice.

“I don’t know.” I said, wiping my eyes with a handkerchief. 

Lynn pulled herself up, “I’m done. I’ve been done for years. I don’t think I’ve ever begun in the first place.”

And, with that, Lynn walked away.

“Do you need assistance getting back to your room?” Fiona asked.

“I can get my lady back to her room.” I heard Amy’s voice, and I repressed another sob. “Come on my lady, let’s get you back to your room.”

“This is going to be a thing now, isn’t it?” I managed between sobs.

“I will be here for you if it is,” Amy whispered.

“I tried that with Lynn,” I answered, hiccupping, “And look where I am.”

* * * 

I stayed out of the way until dinner. Lynn and I both remained polite. But I felt awkward. I didn’t hate her. I wasn’t angry at her. And I don’t think she was angry at me either. I was confident she felt hurt. But what to say to each other? The suitors had left by the time dinner rolled around. My father and my uncle, the baron, were likewise not in attendance. Aunt Theresa indicated that they were working on something important. Something secret. And so dinner consisted of the ladies. That meant myself and Lynn, Catherine and Katarina, and finally Aunt Theresa and my mother. 

“Ladies, I need your attention. We had a scandal today. I don’t need to repeat it, we all know what happened.”

I simmered in shame as she spoke.

“But ladies, I don’t want to see anything else in the broadsheets tomorrow. I want to see nothing beyond gossip about shoes and necklines. We can’t escape the damage we’ve done here. But we can avoid causing more.”

“Where’s father?” Catherine asked, “Is he pulling damage control on Ren’s shenanigans?”

“The baron and your father are working on logistics related to Lynn’s suitors.”

“Logistics?” Katarina said, “She only has four suitors. Maybe only three now.”

“Indeed,” Aunt Theresa said. “Karen, I understand you not wanting Prince Wulfric to become Lynn’s husband. But there were subtler ways to handle that.”

“I got mad. He was treating Lynn worse than dirt. I didn’t plan to slap him.” I said. “But Katarina’s right. Why would four suitors need special planning?”

"The family only approved four suitors from those who sent notice, you mean," My mother said.

Theresa nodded, "We aren't marrying our eldest daughter to just anyone. She won't be the wife of some lesser Lord of Tech-Duinn with no holdings after all."

“Well, it's not like she doesn’t have time, you know.” Catherine said, “She’s only twenty-one, that's the earliest you can start courting. She can take her time in courting.”

“Like you two have?” my mother said, acid on her tongue, “You two haven’t courted in serious fashion since you became of age.”

“Karen isn’t courting either.” Katarina objected.

Mother nodded, “And she should be courting. We could arrange something like that to keep you busy so you can stop worrying about your cousin?”

“I’ll think about it mother,” I paused, “You can put the word out if you like. I can always turn down those who send their interest if I change my mind.”

“Don’t play at this like you play with men’s hearts, Karen.” My mother said and frowned. “This is not a frivolous game. It is a very serious game.”

“I treat all my games as serious matters, mother.”

“Then control your temper going forward. Serious and also serene.”

I cringed, “Of course mother.”

* * * 

After dinner, as I was walking back to my bedchamber, Katarina managed to corner me.

"Don't fuck up Lynn's engagement. I don't want to have to court. I prefer flirting to courting. I don't want to be a wife. Not yet. I haven't lived yet."

“I wasn’t trying to fuck it up, big sister. I lost my temper.”

“Oh, come on. You manipulate everyone. Boys dance at your pleasure. And you want me to believe that this time, you lost your temper. I don’t want to be under the magnifying glass like Lynn. If Lynn stops courting, then all eyes will turn to Catherine and myself.”

“I understand why you don’t believe me. But my goal here is to help Lynn get married to somebody who will keep her safe and make her happy.”

“You hate her.” Katarina said.

“She’s family.” I answered.

“That’s it?”

“Even if it is, isn’t it enough?”

“Either way. Don’t scare away the other suitors.”

“I’ll be good.”

Katarina shook her head, “You’re never good, little sister.”

- - -

By DD Ward and Margaret Lovelace

ddwardiswriting.blogspot.com

[pearl484-blog]

Value of Stripes

Shady Quartz made a fanfic. I'm so proud of him!

It's for Dreamlight Valley, a Disney game that's clearly reminiscent of Animal Crossing, but much like Kingdom Hearts, featuring Disney characters with references to their original movies/franchises and original plotlines (much like Kingdom Hearts, I prefer the original content).

He was inspired by one of my series, which was very sweet. Although he is apparently more apathetic towards writing than me or Fire Opal.

There's a shirt- a set of shirts really- in Ren's wardrobe that Ren absolutely adores above all others, although they're not sure why.

They're not as stylish as their favorite Mickey Mouse shirt with its lovely sunset colors streaking across a dappled gray background, nor are they hand-made like the crime against fashion they call their favorite dress, dyed a bright teal and splattered with all the motifs they've found around the valley. 

As a matter of fact, Ren isn't sure where the shirts came from at all; they just showed up out of nowhere, a matching set of form-flattering shirts with nary a hint as to their origins, and their design, being only plain horizontal stripes, betrayed nothing. 

The stripes themselves seemed to be the only distinguishing features of the shirts, each of them ranging in colors and number: ranging from the bright spectrum of the rainbow to a simplified greyscale pattern with a bright purple stripe at the bottom; from colors that softly faded from a bright pink to a midnight blue to the brightly solidly distinct colors of pink, yellow and blue; and from the bright warm colors of oranges and pinks to the cool and calm greens and blues and the soft pastels of baby blues, pinks, all with a soft white band in the center. 

A few of the shirts, like the ones made of oranges and pinks or the ones made of blues and green felt fun, but like it didn't belong to Ren. More like they were meant to represent other people, and the pink stripes which faded to blue and the bright pink, yellow, and blue stripes felt fun, but not for them. 

The rainbow was bright and colorful, and went with several skirt very nicely, but sometimes it feel a little bland. The shirt filled with the pastel pinks and blues felt the same, but stronger, like it didn't quite fit, like it wasn't quite made for them, but it wasn't not made for them. That shirt felt awkward, so Ren never really liked to wear it too much. 

The greyscale rainbow felt nicer, more specific, but it's monochrome style made them feel less vibrant, more settled, like they'd had to come to come to gripes with something big, something life changing, and even though it'd hurt, they'd survived, and were all the better for it. It felt strong and stable, lacking in color perhaps, but still good in its own way. It didn't feel right to wear it near most of the Disney characters, all filled with their own vibrancy, but Ren was okay if they wore it alone. It felt nice to look at it and appreciate it. 

One day, they knew, they'd be strong enough to wear it around town. Perhaps they'd be as confident and as loud as Ursula then. Her colors, with much the same hues, never seemed to dull her liveliness. She was proud and uncompromising that way. But it'd take a long time to reach that point, Ren thought. They still had a lot of growing to do. 

Ren's favorite of the bunch though was a mess of contridicting colors: a cheery yellow with a solemn purple, a bright, crisp white and the flexible, forgiving black; contridicting partners that never touched yet still inexplicably existed together, each distinct and true. It always gave Ren a source of not quite joy, but perhaps peace, and a feeling of belonging, although Ren did not understand why. 

So, anytime Ren needed a shirt to pair with their newest combination of jacket, skirt, pants, and combat boots, they found themself reaching for that strange contridiction of a shirt. 

They didn't mind it at all. 

[bubbalove9610]

Ok so I used to work at a theme park called Scandia awhile back, as Freddy Krueger. And an idea popped into my head for a story. Now I won’t spoil anything, I’ll just jump right in the story. I hope you guys like it. This is gonna be in parts/chapters so let me know in the comments if you want more.

The theme park was quiet. It had been shut down a long time ago. A group of kids wandered the park, admiring all the rides and old buildings. “So I have to ask, which horror icon would you wanna have a one night stand with?” A girl asks. She had blonde hair, and wore a crop top and shorts, she had icy blue eyes, and was about 5 feet tall. A boy walking next to her look at her surprised. “Katy! What kinda question is that?” He asks. He had brown hair and brown eyes. He wore gym shorts and a tank top, with sports sneakers. Katy giggled and replied, “Come on Chris, you’ve had to think about it at least once,” she says. Chris shuddered, and shook his head. “No thank you,” he said. Katy giggled and they kept walking, trying to find everyone else. “Where’s everyone go?” Katy asks, and Chris shrugged. “I don’t know, Alexis and Yazmine probably went to go fuck somewhere. You know how high their sex drive is,” he said. Katy looked at Chris and blushed, and he caught on to that. “You ok?” He asked her, and she nodded quickly, too quickly. Suddenly Alexis popped up, scaring the shit out of both of them. “My god girl, don’t do that!” Chris said, and Alexis laughed, out of breath. “Sorry, but you’re gonna wanna see this,” she said, she was tall, with half her head shaved and purple streaks in her hair, she had brown eyes and wore a leather vest with an AC/DC shirt and skinny jeans. She waved at them to follow. Chris and Katy ran after her into the old circus tent, excited and curious. Yazmine walked out from one of the rooms, buttoning her shirt, and Chris looked at Katy as if to say, “Told you so.” Katy had dark brown hair, with green eyes. She wore blue tshirt with a purple skirt, and green tennis shoes. They all walked into the back of the tent, and Chris saw a floor panel open. He looked in and saw a giant room, with pillars shaped like bats. “What is this place?” He asked, and looked at Alexis, who shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know, me and Yazmine were…cuddling, and we saw the carpet looked funny,” she said. Chris chuckled and went to the ladder, climbing down. “Be careful,” Katy said, and Chris smiled. Alexis went with him, climbing down, smiling to herself. She walked next to Chris and he broke the silence, saying, “You know I could hear you two moaning from outside,” he said, and Alexis blushed. “Sorry,” she said, “Yazmine’s wild when she’s in the mood, she rides hard-“. Chris put his hands over his ears, “Ok I don’t need to hear the details,” he said. Alexis cleared her throat, saying, “What about you and Katie? Have you guys done….that yet?” She said, and Chris shook his head. “No, she’s coming over tonight for the Conjuring marathon.” Alexis stopped, her mouth open. “She’s coming to our movie marathon? Dude if you don’t bang her tonight i will,” she said. Chris looked at Alexis, rolling his eyes, and said, “Maybe, we’ll see.” Alexis scoffed and they stopped before a giant vault. “What the hell is this?” She asked, and Chris shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely not locked,” he said, pointing to the lock that was melted off. They walked in and saw books of all kinds, but at the far end sat an old comic book, and it had a picture of some butcher, titled “The great theme park showdown of Halloween.” Chris scoffed, “What a weird name,” he said, opening it. As soon as the pages opened there was a giant burst of wind and maniacal laughter could be heard, but it died out slowly. All the books fell off the shelves and caught fire, spelling the words, “Thank you for freeing me, my pets.” Alexis grabbed it, slamming it shut, and put it down, saying, “I’ve seen enough horror movies to know, don’t touch the secret books or whatever shit they have.” Chris and Alexis both walked out and slammed the door, and climbed up the ladder, slamming the trap door. “What happened?” Yazmine asked, and Chris leaned against the wall, catching his breath. “You don’t wanna know,” Alexis said. They ran from the theme park, too scared and exhausted to do more, and drove home.