#it was mostly an impulse but looking back I’m so glad I followed that particular impulse

[whenthegoldrays]

Hmm

[smoocheveryclone]

dirty old town

Gregor x jedi!reader, part one of ???, ~3k words, uhhh, i don’t actually remember if i gendered the reader? i have to check, no (y/n), no smut though it does begin to get very mildly suggestive near the end. pg13 i guess? if that?

premise: reader is the one to find Gregor on Abafar instead of Colonel Meebur “i am droid racist but will treat clones with even less respect” Gascon

under a cut bc long post

You have mixed feelings about these undercover missions.

On the one hand, despite the danger, there is an element of freedom to them that you relish. You’re not bound by the strict codes of the Jedi Order; you feel greater license to act and speak on impulse… but at the same time, you aren’t strictly yourself. You’re playing a part. 

And then you go home, to the Temple or to the War, and maybe it’s just mild disorientation, but you still feel like you’re playing a part. The part of a Jedi.

But you always end up leaving those feelings behind you, and do what you must do.

Your current mission is over now, and you’ve just started your journey home from the Outer Rim… but of course, nothing can be simple.

You end up having to pilot your ship through a- beautiful, admittedly- field of comets. Trusting in the force, you manage to get through it mostly without damage.

Mostly being the operative word.

You take a hit, and you lose your fuel tank, forcing you down onto a force-forsaken planet not far from the one you’ve just left.

You instruct your astromech to power down until you get back, because you don’t know when you’ll be able to recharge her battery next, grab a satchel with some essentials and a full canteen, and set off toward what you sense is some kind of small town.

It’s a long walk, and by the time you see buildings, you’re dusty and dry and tired. And there are battle droids here. Which is fantastic.

First things first, though. You see a sign for a diner and make a beeline for it. Never mind that it looks dirtier and more disreputable the closer you get; there’s food and drink inside. The door opens, and you stop.

That voice.

There’s no mistaking that voice, you know it as well as you know your own. Better. You’ve heard it in countless permutations, all with particular vocal tics, intonations, cadences, turns of phrase which you’ve gotten to know, in some cases quite well. So this one is familiar… but unfamiliar at the same time. 

By the time you’ve thought all this, you’re already staring… and not just in curiosity or surprise. You’ve never seen a clone wearing civvies before. You’ve seen them in their armor, whether shiny and new or scuffed and painted; you’ve seen them in their uniforms; you’ve even seen them in the black body gloves they wear under their armor, once or twice (an image you have to swat out of your mind like an insect buzzing around your ear). But never civilian clothing. Something about it plays havoc with your composure, but you can’t look away.

His arms are bare. His hair is attractively mussed, and he’s got a full beard. 

He’s also looking back at you.

You’ve seen eyes exactly like his so many times before; you’ve never seen them look back at you quite this way. Like he’s seeing… you. Not a Jedi, not a General, just you. Of course, you realize, you’re wearing civilian clothes as well. As far as he’s concerned, you are just you. 

It takes you long enough to wonder who he is and what he’s doing here that you feel a bit silly about it. But once you do wonder, it’s quite a puzzle indeed. Is he undercover, as you were? Is that done? You’ve never heard of it. Though if a man with a million identical brothers could get away with going undercover anywhere, it’d be out here on some Outer Rim dustball. The other possibility is that he’s deserted. You’ve never heard of that, either, though you expect that it must have happened before. 

You wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. You certainly wouldn’t squeal on him.

This attitude is, at the heart of it, why you have never, and will never, lead a battalion.

At the moment, though, either of these possibilities leaves you in a delicate situation. You can’t blow his cover, if it’s the first case scenario. You don’t want to scare him off if it’s the second. Then, of course, there’s the third possibility: it’s neither of those things. What else could be going on? But whatever it is, you can’t just avoid him. You can’t go on with your business, pretending you never saw him. The force is telling you that you are meant to be here, and you were meant to find him. Why?

So many questions.

You’ve been loitering by the door, staring at him this whole time, and he’s been going about his job, sneaking glances back at you as he collects dirty dishes and clears off the booths. A Sullustan- owner and operator of the place as far as you can guess- has appeared behind the counter in the meantime, and you give him only a cursory glance as you walk up and take a seat on one of the grimy stools. You pick one where you can peek back into the kitchen and follow him with your eye as he goes back and forth.

The Sullustan is chatting up a regular, which is fine by you. You may be hungry, but you can wait: there’s something far more interesting here than food and drink.

You watch the clone more or less discreetly, every so often letting him catch you looking. You’re waiting for a chance to speak with him, however briefly. Before you can find one, he comes to you.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, giving you a smile.

“I just got into town today,” you say, smiling back at him. Seeming encouraged, he lays down the stack of dirty dishes for a moment to loiter a bit beside you. “My name’s Gregor.”

You give him your name in return, and he tells you it sounds pretty. This unexpectedly beguiling exchange disarms you, and for a moment you almost forget why you wanted to speak to him in the first place.

“I’m very glad to meet you,” you tell him emphatically. You can’t really speak with him here, not beyond this chitchat, but at least you can hint that you’d like to. Gregor, meanwhile, looks delighted.

“Likewise,” he says, and there are a few seconds of oddly intense silence.

“So…” you say, nodding up at the menu sign behind the counter. “What’s good?”

“Well,” he hesitates pointedly, scrunching up his face, and you laugh. “Number four’s all right.”

“Thank you for the recommendation.”

“No problem.”

Your little conversation is interrupted by the Sullustan bellowing for him to get back to work. You have already decided that you do not like this man- Borkus is his name, from what you have overheard- but you order your food and the coldest drink possible, and are otherwise left alone until it arrives. 

From then until you finish and pay, he is mostly in the back washing up. You don’t get another chance to speak with him. Whenever he emerges, though, he meets your eye, and before you leave, you give him a lingering look.

Outside, you stop and lean against the outer wall of the diner for a few minutes, thinking. While you’re standing there, you hear something coming from around the back of the building. A door, the scraping of a container on the ground, something being lifted and emptied. You make a guess at what you’re hearing, and duck down the little alleyway. When you peek around the corner… there he is.

“Hello again,” you call softly, hanging around at the edge of the back alley, hoping he’ll come over and talk, away from the overflowing trash bins. It smells back there.

You can’t help noticing the way his face lights up when he sees you again. Peering backwards through the kitchen, he lets the back door close softly and, to your immense relief, begins walking over. You beckon him out to the side alley where the air is less foul.

“Hey there,” he says when he gets close. 

“I was wondering… will you be free later on?”

“I get off work in a few hours,” he says, with an air of cautious encouragement.

“Would you meet with me?”

You can feel a little ripple of (pleased) surprise through the force. Obviously he’s amenable to the idea.

“I’d like that,” he replies.

So would you, now it comes to it.

“Good,” you say. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Then, there’s the sound of the diner owner shouting again.

“Gregor! Where are you! Get back in here!”

There’s the sound of the back door into the alley being thrust open, and heavy, stomping footsteps, and you frown in the general direction of the noise. Gregor looks embarrassed; you reach out tentatively, and touch his arm in what you hope is a comforting gesture.

“Sorry,” you say quietly.

He looks at the hand on his arm. You pull it back. He looks at you. You look at him.

“Worth it,” he whispers as the Sullustan rounds the corner.

“What are you doing out here? You take an extra break, it comes out of your pay! Get back in the kitchen and finish washing the dishes!”

“Sorry, Mr. Borkus,” he says, slipping around his irascible employer and scooting back the way he came. “I’m getting back to work, right now!”

You hear the door open and close, and the Sullustan turns a disapproving eye on you. Before he can speak though, you raise your hand and wave it lightly in front of his face, which goes blank.

“You should stop yelling at Gregor,” you say. “I should stop yelling at Gregor,” he repeats. “You’re not going to dock his pay.” “I’m not going to dock his pay.” “You need to get off his back and let him be.” “I need to get off his back and let him be.”

Satisfied that you’ve done what little you can to improve the mysterious clone’s day- whatever his situation actually is- you turn on your heel and walk away.

You spend the next few hours as you had intended before meeting Gregor: enquiring about the parts you need to repair your ship, discreetly poking around for information, observing the battle droids. There’s something going on here (there’s something going on everywhere, these days) but you haven’t figured out what. Frankly- although you chide yourself that you are doing your duty and not to be childish- you’re bored. You’re very much looking forward to meeting up with Gregor later.

So you can figure out what he’s doing here, of course.

After the appropriate amount of time has lapsed, you meander back to the diner, and wait across the road, watching the door.

Eventually, he and the owner emerge. He sees you right away, and veers over in your direction immediately, waving and calling for you as his employer stares (and is ignored by both of you).

“I’ve been waiting all day to see you,” he says, with a big smile on his face.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been doing the same,” you admit, smiling back. “How was work?”

“Better than usual.”

You smile wider.

“Glad to hear it.” 

“So… what are you doing here?”

You shrug.

“Passing through.”

“Oh? … How long are you staying in town?”

He looks hopeful. You stop yourself from chewing your lip.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “It depends.”

You realize you’re chewing your lip again when you see the way he’s looking at you.

“On what?”

You can’t help smiling at him.

“Lots of things.”

“Hmm.”

The conversation that follows is, like your first exchange earlier today in the dingy little diner, oddly compelling. Repeatedly, you must remind yourself that you are trying to figure out what he’s doing here, but much like your earlier investigation into the Separatist presence on this planet, you’re getting nowhere. You even attempt, once or twice, to steer the conversation in directions that would raise the suspicions of someone under cover… but he isn’t suspicious at all, and you end up just talking.

Talking, laughing, enjoying each other.

He’s endearing.

But before you while the whole evening away just walking around town, chatting, you come right out and ask.

“So, Gregor… what are you doing here?”

“You mean… besides washing dishes?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know. Surviving, I guess.”

You nod slowly.

“Hmm. How long have you been here?”

“About a year now,” he replies, and you manage to disguise some of your shock at his answer. ‘Undercover’ is starting to look less and less likely. “... What?”

“Nothing. Just. Wow. You’ve been working at the diner that whole time?”

“Yeah.” 

You grimace.

“Well, frankly, that sounds awful.”

He laughs, running his hands self-consciously through his hair.

“Well, it… it could be worse.”

That pricks at your heart. 

“Yes. I suppose it could.”

You know very well how much worse it could be.

He looks at you, but neither of you speaks for a long moment. Maybe it’s time for the two of you to speak more plainly than this.

“Gregor… Is there somewhere we can go and talk to each other privately?” His eyes are wide as he looks at you, and for just a second, you sense the buzz of excited nerves.

“Oh, uh… well, it’s- it’s not much, but, there’s always my place.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, touching his arm like you did earlier. It seems to help.

“Great,” he says. “This way!”

He takes your hand, and leads you down the dusty streets that still all look the same to you. You’re not really looking at them anyway.

On the way, you pass by a man he knows in the street. They wave to each other, and- after the strange man glances at you- exchange smiles. 

“I’ve been really enjoying talking with you,” he says suddenly.

You look at him.

It’s been so nice, spending time with him like this. Just being yourself, with no part to play.

“Me, too.”

You’re almost there, now. You see the stairwell down into a basement apartment, and he’s slowing down. Before you get there, he stops, leaning against the wall. You can feel his self-consciousness.

“Listen, um, when I said my place wasn’t much? I… Well, it really isn’t much.”

“It doesn’t matter to me where we go,” you tell him kindly.

“It’s just… I wish I had somewhere nicer to take you. I’ve never met anyone like you, before.”

That affects you in a way you can’t altogether contain. For a second, you’re breathless.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, either.”

It’s the truth.

He’s smiling again. Having never let go of your hand, he runs his thumb over your knuckles and begins leading you down toward his door. You would be able to tell he was nervous even if you couldn’t feel it through the force.

True enough, his place is small and as dingy as the rest of the town. But it’s his, and you decide you like it here, for that fact alone. You’re looking around when you notice him staring at you.

“... What is it?”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, completely guilelessly. It’s so plain and sincere that you can’t help believing it, and once again, you’re breathless. “I never expected to see anything so beautiful on this whole planet.”

Then, he leans in to kiss you… and you let him. You do more than let him: you kiss him back. The only concrete thought in your head is that his beard tickles. It feels wonderful. Is that noise coming out of you? 

It takes feeling his hands on your hips to realize you’ve got your own in his hair, and the way his fingers grip you makes your eyes roll back in your head. Your lips press together again, and again, and again; sometimes so softly you’re barely touching, sometimes so heavily you almost topple over, sometimes you can feel him humming against your mouth and it’s all you can do to stay standing. 

He’s guiding you gently toward- what? A chair? A crate? A cot? You don’t know, you don’t care; he sits down, and pulls you into his lap, and there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You hold him so close, closer than you’ve ever held anyone. You love the way his hands feel on you, and you tell him so. In reply, he makes a sound you know you’ll hear in dreams for the rest of your life. 

The way he handles you- so sweetly, but so direct- makes you feel things you couldn’t repress if you tried.

But… of course… nothing can be simple.

You break the kiss, and take a breath.

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Is everything all right?”

“Before we go any further, there’s something you need to know about me.” He’s a little wary, a little worried, and you hate it, but you can’t just let this go without him knowing the truth. Maybe it was an illusion, but you already miss the way this felt so uncomplicated a moment ago. 

“You’re… you’re not married, are you?”

Your reaction to this question tells him you’re not, even before you actually answer.

“... I can never be married. I’m a Jedi.”

He’s still holding you, and he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t care what you are. We’ll work this out. I-if… if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes have never been so wide in your life. ‘We’ll work this out.’ He means it, you can feel it. You think you would believe anything this man said to you. 

But.

This is forbidden. 

If this is not an attachment, nothing is.

Can you do this? Can you work this out? The doubt is suddenly swallowed up by something you’re not sure you can identify, but feels very much like indignation. No attachment! But what is the bond between master and padawan but an attachment? What is friendship but an attachment? What are those bonds formed on the battlefield, are they not attachments? Can you name one single Jedi in the whole order who is wholly unattached? Who is attached to no one? Can anyone live in such a way?

It’s true, sometimes you must be able to let go.

But what value is there in anything without fondness? Without care? 

And enough of your philosophizing! What about him? Doesn’t he deserve to be loved? That question, at least, has a clear and definite answer. One that cannot be interrogated. The answer is yes.

You shift around so that you’re straddling his lap, and kiss him so deeply that you get lost in each other.

“I do,” you whisper. “I do want this.”

You can sense his relief. His elation. Something inside of you aches beautifully. Is this what love feels like? You kiss him. He kisses you.

“Good,” he says. “We’ll figure it out together.”

And then, he says something that shocks you so profoundly that you stop cold.

“... But what’s a Jedi?”

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[sorry-apsalar]

Frender Drabbles: Going Crazy

"Having seen Insane In The Mainframe recently, I’d love to see Bender be a little (maybe a lot) more concerned about Fry being trapped in a cell with stab-happy Roberto while in the asylum."

~

Humans were far too fragile for their own good. Getting attached to one was the opposite of a good idea but it was far too late for Bender. The fact that Fry seemed particularly soft even by human standards only made that attachment more annoying. It meant Bender felt bad for him when he complained and whined about their situation and how bad being in a robot asylum supposedly was for a human – rather selfish of him, almost as if Bender wasn’t also having a hard time. He was even tempted to try to comfort or help Fry at times and might’ve given in to that impulse if he didn’t have a reputation to maintain. But he’d reached a breaking point and had to risk ruining that reputation or risk Fry getting himself killed like a moron. As bad as the former was the latter was worse.

Breaking out of his own cell was far easier than getting into Fry’s was proving to be. Finding it was the issue, there were no name tags and breaking into the front office proved to be a waste of time since it wasn’t written down anywhere in there either – which made sense, the bots staffing the place probably just had that kind of information memorized. He was forced to resort to going down the hall and pressing the button to open every door to check and immediately closing it if it wasn’t the right room all the while hoping that the night warden would continue to not show up.

Every minute that passed Bender became more and more convinced that Fry was probably dead. Roberto was a stab-happy maniac with no love for humans. He’d probably proceeded to slice Fry to bits the moment they’d been locked in together. Stupid humans and their stupid fragile squishy bodies. And stupid Fry in particular for being cute and endearing and then getting himself locked in a small room with someone who’d have a fun time killing him. … Okay so maybe that wasn’t Fry’s fault. Maybe this whole situation was more Bender’s fault for being the one who…

Like every other duo he’d interrupted tonight both Roberto and Fry froze as their door opened. Out of habit, Bender almost immediately pressed the open/close button again but stopped himself just in time.

“Bender!” Fry said doing nothing to try to hide the relief in his voice. “Boy am I glad to see you.” He was pressed back into the corner of the room, looking dirty and ragged as he’d been ever since they’d ended up here. He was bleeding now too; a rather nasty looking cut on the side of his face oozed blood and there were a quite a few cuts visible on his arms too, mostly on his forearms from obvious attempts to shield himself from Roberto’s knife.

“What do you want?” Roberto asked, giving Bender a suspicious glare. He still held his knife up, its edge dripping with Fry’s blood.

“Uh…” Now that Bender was here, he wasn’t really sure what to do. Considering how very alive Fry still clearly was, his worry had perhaps been unwarranted. But then again if he hadn’t come than things could’ve and probably would’ve continued to escalate to a rather bad place so… “I need to talk to my meatbag.” Extending an arm, he grabbed Fry by the wrist and pulled him out past Roberto, earning a small pathetic squeal of fear from Fry. Before Roberto could try to follow him out, Bender pressed the button again, closing the door in his face.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Fry said, still shaking. “Thanks for saving me. Now let’s the get the fuck out of here.” He took a step and then paused to look back at Bender, desperation on his face. “Uh… how do we get out?”

Bender hadn’t exactly been planning on escaping tonight, he’d just wanted to make sure Roberto wouldn’t kill Fry. And breaking out of places was always substantially harder than breaking in. Also if they got caught trying to break out they’d be thrown in solitary confinement for who knows how long? Which was the last thing Fry needed right now since humans needed water and food or they’d die. So… “The easiest way to get out is to give them what they want. Convince them you think you’re a robot and they’ll let you out no problem.” It would also guarantee he wasn’t immediately thrown back in if he was caught for another crime later on.

“But I’m not!”

Bender shrugged, going back to pretending he didn’t care. “Just act like robot and they’ll…”

“I can’t! I’m on the verge of going crazy here. I haven’t properly slept in… days? Weeks? I didn’t even fucking know any more. So I just… I… I can’t.” Fry needed to be let out of here sooner rather than later. Ugh, stupid fragile humans.

“Shut up before someone hears you.”

Fry whimpered and huddled closer. “Please Bender! I got to get out of here.” At least he was finally whispering now.

“I know.” And Bender had to find a way to solve this because he cared way more than he ever wanted to admit even to himself but it was too late to stop now. “Just uh… temporarily convince yourself you’re a robot and that should get you let out in no time. You already said you’re going crazy, right? Just embrace it for a bit.”

“You really think that’ll work?”

Bender had no idea but repeating a lie often enough always made it feel truer, meaning it could theoretically work so… “Yeah totally.”

“Okay I’ll uh… try that then. … I’m not going back in there with Roberto though, he’d kill me for sure.”

“I know. Come on.” He looped his arm through Fry’s and started them walking down the hall. “You can switch rooms with me tonight. I got a new roommate tonight too. They’re an insane welding unit who’s been driving me crazy. They’re physically harmless though so you should be fine.” And Bender could put up with Roberto for a little while. It might even be fun.

[fe-husband-heaven]

Thanks to popular demand ;) Part two is here!!

Ehuehuehue of course, with the quote I think lands them on the list!

Part 2! Of Heroes I think have a thing for the Summoner:

Henry:

"You won't die, will you, Summoner? If you died, I'd have to invent a horrible new hex for whoever killed you. So just...stay alive, OK?"

Henry is genuinely sweet. So long as you're not on the wrong side;; He gets attached if you're kind to him so he's at your every beck and call rather quickly, even if you say he doesn't have to do your chores, he insists on it.

ZHDBDDH he's extremely protective, not in an overbearing fashion but more that anything that messes with you, messes with him. He's learned to keep his face in an eternal smile but he prefers to see that yours are real :')) Sweet boy

Henry and The Summoner end up just being known as that duo. As in Do Not Separate. (Mostly because leaving Henry alone to his own devices is asking for trouble) but also, Henry just likes having you with him during his shenanigans nyaha

Raven:

"Glad to fight for you. Long as it doesn't get in the way of...well, never mind." "Need me? Just say so."

"But now, none of that matters. I've come to my senses after watching you at work here. Does any of that make sense? If not, forget I said anything. I'll still fight hard for you."

Veterans of this blog...yall know know. This man is the start of it all djxjdj

Homeboy gave up his revenge, choosing instead to fight for you rather than a past that's haunted him.

Raven's a bit of a bodyguard, with his resting angry face, he scares off anyone who might approach you whenever you're with him. And he can be quite impulsive so if he thinks someone's upset you, he's out to pick a fight.

Hnnnnghgh my boy💖💕💖

Ephraim:

"I will fight. To bring peace to this world, and for your sake, too." || "You know, I like you. And I feel I can trust you completely."

"I will protect you. Just believe in me and follow my lead." || "I'll protect you. I don't want to lose anyone else."

"I'm thankful that the two us can spend this winter festival together. It means a lot to me."

Ephraim💙💙💙hnnnnngh, I love him so much!! And he's constantly going and on and on about how he's going to protect the summoner. A loaded statement considering how much he already has to protect ;)

Ephraim is a bit oblivious though, he has no clue he likes you himself. And he won't know until he's made to think about it by someone else. It's just something he's never worried about.

But his behavior makes it clear to others. Ruffling your hair, escorting you nearly everywhere and even having you nearby as he sparred with other heroes. It seems as though him and the summoner are inseparable!

He's just as protective as the Henry and Raven but Ephraim runs off of his instinct to protect you rather than than being pissed off at someone who upset you.

Yarne:

"You always look so busy. Why don't you take a break and pet my fur? I hear that it's pretty relaxing."

"I'm not big on danger, but I don't want to see you go extinct, either. On the battlefield, you stay behind me, OK?"

like Libra, HIS ENTIRE LVL 40 CONVO: "Hey, Summoner...Did you notice? I didn't jump when you spoke to me. I heard you coming. Lately, I catch myself listening for your footsteps, wondering where you're going...If you ended up getting attacked, summoners would go extinct! And I'd be pretty lonely. If you're ever in danger, shout my name, or just make a loud noise. I'll hear it and come running! Thanks to you, I've gotten plenty strong. Now I can protect you! Thanks for giving me the courage to help."

Bro...the footsteps thing is so cuuuute! The fact that he recognizes them...aww! ++Offering up his fur to be pet?? Absolutely superb-

Yarne's fear of going extinct is always something he's struggled with but he's willing to push through it to keep you safe. He's a sweet man who places the summoner's safety at the same level as his own. And that's why I think he absolutely deserves a spot on this list!

Lucius:

"I feared that you'd lose respect for me if you knew the truth—or would even be repulsed. I do such good works that I shouldn't allow myself to care, but when it comes to you...I do. I put myself in your hands. Will you like or loathe me? But know this, you will have my loyalty."

Lucius is so sweet and caring and very supportive of the summoner, my poor boy doesn't even care about whether or not you'd shun him, just that you know he'd support you regardless.

dndnxnx I can definitely see him falling for the summoner but feeling no need to divulge it to them juuuuuust yet. He's very much content with simply being near the summoner so he doesn't think all that much about revealing any feelings.

Of course, he's incredibly attentive so if the summoner falls for him...he'll know. But even then, he'll wait for them to come to him. Patiently. As long as he has to.

Valter:

"I will master you. Someday."

"You are mine now. Entertain me! More!"

"I do take what I want. I'll take whatever I desire. From anyone. Knowing this, you have made use of me. And you have granted me much power... I cannot understand your actions. Do you intend to control me? Or do you long for me to be your master? Either way, you have become my finest prey. I will not permit another to sate their bloodlust on you...Just me."

I said the ones who have a thing for the summoner, not whether or not it was a BAD thing cjcnfnfnxn

Hoo boy. Possessive and obsessive is the name of the game in this wheelhouse;; though it's a little strange when it comes to Valter. He has a very calm demeanor (most of the time) when speaking to the summoner as opposed to his manic state in batttle.

My reason for putting him on this list is the clear "This one belongs to me." attitude cjfjdjd I have a feeling that he has no issue getting to use his lance against any of the summoner's "admirers"

Gaius:

"Here to beg more candy off me? I'm not sharing this one, though— it's my favorite right now. Packed with sweet, sweet honey...Hm? You don't want candy? You got work for me, then? ...No? Wait, you're not just here to spend time with me, are ya? 'Cause that'd make you a big ol' marshmallow. Only softies try to build relationships up for their own sake. And here you are—soft as cotton candy. Heh. I changed my mind. Take the honey candy. No reason—just my way of saying thanks."

Isn't this SO cute?? Gaius, the king of all things sweet and sugary, giving his favorite candy to the summoner because they just want to spend time with him....how cute!!

He's such a softie for them and it's adorable! If anyone's being led by the nose here, it's Gaius. But without the summoner knowing how positively melt able Gaius is💖💖💖

Gaius isn't a mean guy by nature but I think him giving away his new favorite candy is a clear sign of a particular fondness.

Narcian:

"I'll make you regret that you picked a fight with me, Narcian! One day I'll make you kneel. Then I'll pet your head like a little kitty—and keep you at my side forever! Ha ha ha ha!"

Is this one surprising to yall? jddjdj its really just the kitty at my side part that makes me think it heheheh. Narcian thinks of Narcian first and such, he is deserving of the best.

And of all the fleas that drown in his brilliance, he has deemed you the best in suiting him. (ꈍᴗꈍ) Isn't that lovely?

In his lvl. 40 conversation, he mentions that the summoner has said he's full of himself so...this is 100% a dynamic of the summoner being tired of his crap and the guy who thinks this summoner belongs to him fjfjfjfj

Shigure:

"I'm glad you've come to see me. Do you want my company on a mission? Or perhaps to just look for a rainbow. I do enjoy being by myself, but spending time with you is also quite relaxing. Perhaps it's because... You're not the chatty type. I have grown fond of you. I hope you'll remember me even after we one day part ways. Nothing would make me happier than if every time you glance at the sky or hear a song, you think of me. Perhaps it's a bit selfish for a mere Hero to ask for such a thing from a Summoner, but it's simply how I feel. And I thought you should know."

"I don't like singing for an audience. Unless, of course, that audience is you. You are often in my thoughts."

"Would you walk with me sometime? You could tell me more about this beautiful world and about yourself as well."

So I counted, and Shigure has asked the Summoner like 5 times if they'd like to go somewhere or do something with him fjfjfjdn And he's asked them not to forget him, it seems that he wants to remain imprinted in their thoughts.

There's a bit of a calm but melancholy air in this dynamic sometimes. But it switches to a light environment when he speaks about going for rides on his pegasus with the summoner. :') Dhdjfj isn't it a cute idea to go on a flying date??

Shigure is sweet and is even willing to sing for the summoner, so long as they are the only one to be his audience. He's got no qualms about sharing his voice with the summoner and its "Got a thing for the summoner" worthy (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Chrom:

"Aren't you cold? I wouldn't be much of a Hero if I let our summoner collapse. Here, take my cape."

"If you're ever in trouble, just call for me. Wherever you are, I'll come running with the wind at my back."

"You spend time with me. You're by my side, cheering me on. You make me stronger. That...makes me happier than you can guess. I'm truly grateful. I'll do what I can to do the same for you."

Hxhxhx im a sucker for the "Take my coat" trope. He's so supportive and an absolute sweetheart, baring his heart out to the summoner. He speaks a lot about how nothing will ever break his and the summoner's bond too!

He mentions it constantly! In fact, in his lvl.40 Bunny Version Conversation, he paints (a bad) portrait of the summoner on a festival egg and writes a poem on the other side about how much he values the summoner's presence.

He's absolutely intent on displaying how much he cares about his bond with the summoner and it's a very sweet dynamic. He's eager to show how much he cherishes them and that's the easiest way to end up on this list xjxhxhxh

[icharchivist]

Omg icha your tags on that OBM post have me crying. I saw screenshots of that devilgram but i cant for the life of me remember what card it's from

I love Mammon so fucking much because of it, like Lucifer is over here doubting himself, regretting everything he did in the fall and believing he was in the wrong.

Then Mammon gives him motivation to keep fighting on, saying he'll follow Luci no matter what and it made me super emotional. And when you remember how Luci trusts Mammon the most out of the others it just means so much more to me, and thats there's so much more to their bond than Mammon being a troublemaker that Lucifer has to discipline.

DLKJFD HEY! it's a pleasure to suffer with you then, tho sorry for the random crying!

i found them on a post that analysed Mammon's character as the protector of his brothers and it's been living in my mind rentfree tbh! it's likely we saw the same post but since i saved the link, here's the link, and with the name of the cards those devilgrams are from, it should be those two Memory cards

(which makes me realize i have one of the two so now i know what Devilgram i'll read next-)

BUT YEAH i so much agree with everything you say!!

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

So huh i got. Carried away.

tbh i am fascinated with Post-Fall Character analysis on the brothers because man, having to go from angels to demons, with the trauma they were caring, the grief, the way their sins became bigger parts of themselves (like for exemple the way Beel's hunger developed and all - many thoughts trying not to go on tangent here), reconciling who they were with who they are becoming ... they had so much to adjust from.

and Lucifer in particular has to carry a lot about how this specific burden manifests, as one of the Favorite in Heaven, as his brothers's keepers, with the secret he has about Lilith ect... And i think esp post-fall there is an aspect of Lucifer that has to face that his anger was so violent, so powerful, he is now forced to face it as now a New Person in the family that he has to look at everyday. (i think he quickly got to see Satan as a brother and not an extension of himself don't get me wrong, but i think especially after the fall, this was the literal embodiment of his feelings and anger. Lucifer is someone who's at least prideful enough to try to stay in control of himself, and right after the fall, while he was still suffering from what the Fall implied, he couldn't forget how his anger manifested because this anger now has a life of his own).

I feel like Post-Fall Lucifer's feelings were all over the place, while also with the major pressure that he had to step up, take care of his brothers, of the impact of his rebellion, of knowing that since he had a bigger status than any of his brothers, Michael, Raphael, even perhaps Simeon, were all people who were much more on his mind regarding how he failed them, than it was for his others brothers. And the responsibility of now working for Diavolo, as well as the relief turned burden, of what happened to Lilith and the fact everyone's grief, that he had to manage with Mammon, all relied on the fact Lucifer couldn't tell them the truth. Like, all of the brothers had a lot to take in but the specific additions Lucifer had to take into account were A Lot.

And those Devilgrams especially, and those moments that shine through that shows how much Lucifer actually trusts Mammon, really showcase, to me, that the reason Lucifer is as stable as he managed to be is because Mammon is the one who stepped up and did everything to adjust for everyone.

And ofc there's also the idea of, if now they represent sins, they must have represented the opposite virtues as Angel, and the opposite of Greed being Charity has Mammon especially stepping out still also a part of his own sense of self. (re this post, yes maybe i really like the metas in here)

And tbh i would love to have more specific ideas about the way Mammon immediately reacted upon the trauma considering he immediately set himself as the caretaker, which, i think is in itself an extension of how he would show Charity. And i wonder if that's where his general gambling and stuff came from: having to fill the dread with the excitement of the moment, that living in the present was the best way to not let the past get to him, and as a result this can be how he can focus too into juggling between his brothers's traumas as well. (that and also the idea of rejecting his angelic side and all of that)

And the fact that back in Heaven Mammon was already someone Lucifer trusted a lot, i think all of this keeps adding up to cement Mammon in Lucifer's mind as the most reliable of them all because he has seen that Mammon's true nature is his ability to take care of those he treasures. He has seen Mammon in crisis that Lucifer himself couldn't handle, and saw how Mammon managed to push through and be the one to keep everything working.

And it's why he trusted Mammon with MC to start with imo, the fact he knows that despite everything "scummy" Mammon does, the scummy parts are mostly momentary, depending on whatever impulsive thing Mammon will indulge in at the moment. But that on the long run, Mammon is the one who can keep a clear head and be more sensible about the situation, who can keep a keen eye to see if someone isn't feeling well, and who knows how to handle it in case.

idk i have so many emotions about it so this text messages makes me very emotional because like... nowadays it's not like the brothers have to protect themselves from something big, and the brothers tend to be very self-reliant, so Mammon doesn't have to take care of them. And in a lot of occasions, they tend to not really back each other up, probably a mix of well "it's not that serious" and/or "well they had it coming" in some way.

but that in that text convos, basically, Mammon saw Belphie fuck up and probably just saw there his brother, more vulnerable, probably kicked in his protective instincts. And to see Mammon get protective like this, which surprised everyone except Lucifer?? i think it's likely the younger brothers don't really understand of the length Mammon went to to take care of them back then, while Lucifer is keenly aware of it. Probably also because the others brothers had to wrestle with their grief and sadness while Lucifer also had to deal with the responsibilities that came with all of this and so more than healing, Mammon helped him get himself back together so he could protect everyone else, making him even more aware of how precious Mammon's help was.

okay i kind of got lost in my point but i'm reaLLY emotional about post-fall things and the whole idea of Lucifer seeing Mammon as the most reliable of his brothers. And while the game mostly focus on the petty, silly brothers dynamics, the moments it reminds us of those serious moments really get to me

also, you know me, i'm an overthinking bastard, i'll take the crumbs i get and build a castle with them so behold the Mammon loving hours i guess????

Glad to be able to share those emotions with you 🥺

[ibijau]

Deathbed Wedding pt 10

Lan Xichen learns a little more about his family, and preparations for the wedding begin (also on AO3)

News travelled fast inside Lotus Pier. Upon hearing about what had been decided, Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng rushed to see Lan Xichen, curious to get more details. All three boys were clearly in great distress over what had happened. Jiang Cheng in particular felt intense guilt, since he confessed that it was while protecting him that Nie Huaisang had been fatally wounded. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji also insisted on taking their share of the blame.

The two of them had ended up trapped in that cave after everyone had escaped, they explained, forced to kill on their own the monster living there. They hadn’t thought to check whether Nie Huaisang was dead or alive until they were rescued, when they insisted his body needed to be brought home. Because of his injuries they had simply assumed the worst right away, and now felt that if they had noticed earlier that he was alive, they might have tried to heal him somehow.

Lan Xichen, at first, was angry over that mistake. Then, realising the scope of Nie Huaisang’s wounds, seeing what state the two other boys were in even after being cared for, hearing how Jiang Cheng had rushed to Lotus Pier to get help, he decided it would be unfair to blame them. They had done the best they could.

When he returned from his negotiations with Qingheng-Jun, Nie Mingjue agreed with that sentiment. He placed the blame on Qingheng-Jun for lying about the chance of changing his mind, and on Wen Chao for his badly organised hunt. The three younger boys seemed somewhat relieved to hear that, though they also did not seem to fully believe him. When Yu Ziyuan ordered Jiang Cheng to go in town and help Nie Mingjue find a pair of wedding robes and a paper effigy to take Nie Huaisang's place in the wedding, her son did not look particularly at ease. He still obeyed without questions, but seemed very nervous as he left with Nie Mingjue.

In fact, as Yu Ziyuan gave orders to everyone to hurriedly prepare for a wedding the next day, nobody dared object to anything. They all dashed away to do whatever task she’d given them, until only she and Lan Xichen, still kneeling by the bed, remained in the room where Nie Huaisang laid. Now that they were alone she looked somewhat less terrifying, and Lan Xichen thought there might even be pity in her eyes as she watched him and Nie Huaisang.

“Yu-furen, I am deeply grateful for your kindness today,” he said, letting go a moment of Nie Huaisang’s hand to bow to her. “I realise what trouble this must be causing you, and I am sorry. Whatever happens in the future, I am in your debt for what you have done. I will work hard so this doesn’t negatively impact the relationship between our sects.”

“Your father doesn’t have a tenth of the influence on Gusu Lan’s life that he thinks he has,” Yu Ziyuan retorted indifferently. “I know who really rules your sect, and after this I am still in good terms with your uncle. Qingheng-Jun’s opinion is nothing to me, or to my husband. In fact, I did this more to annoy him than to help you, boy.”

Lan Xichen couldn’t help a small gasp, which made her laugh.

“Are you really surprised?” she asked, walking closer to the bed. “I might not have been on very good terms with Yu Chenxi when we were young, and I don’t agree with what she’s done, but she still deserved better than to be locked up and forced to marry a man she didn’t like.”

Politely, Lan Xichen smiled at her, unsure what she was talking about. This, in turn, made her frown.

“You do know that your mother was from Meishan Yu, don’t you?” Yi Ziyuan asked, eliciting another gasp from him. “Pah. I shouldn’t be surprised. Your father is an idiot, your uncle holds a grudge like nobody, and you were young when she died. She’d left our sect anyway, over a disagreement that blew out of proportion. Her temper was always bad.”

Lan Xichen gaped at her. His mother was never a topic for conversation at home, and all he knew of her were those precious few moments when his brother and him were allowed to visit her. She had never spoken of her past during those visits, and Lan Xichen had never heard anyone call her anything but Madam Lan. Even her grave did not bear her name, and she had been denied a tablet in the ancestral hall out of deference for the elder she had murdered who was already honoured there. Qingheng-Jun, ashamed of an impulsive marriage that had brought him no joy, had done his best to erase his wife from everyone's memory.

Feeling tears coming again, Lan Xichen bowed once more before Madam Yu, lower than before.

“I did not know this. Thank you Yu-furen for sharing this information, I am now doubly grateful to you. I hope in the future, you will allow me to ask you about… about Yu Chenxi, if that is not too unpleasant to you.”

“Rise up, boy,” Yu Ziyuan ordered impatiently. “This isn’t some great favour I’d be doing you. But if you want to know so badly, I will tell my mother to write to you. As I’ve said I wasn’t very close to Yu Chenxi, but I can at least help you find people who were.”

Ignoring her order, Lan Xichen was about to bow again when there was a knock on the door, followed by Meng Yao coming in with a bowl on a tray. He appeared surprised to find Lan Xichen still there, and exchanged a look with Yu Ziyuan who shrugged and motioned for him to come closer to the bed.

Meng Yao obeyed, putting the tray down on the nightstand next to the bed, then taking the bowl and slowly coaxing the unconscious Nie Huaisang to drink the dark liquid inside, one spoonful at a time. Lan Xichen looked on with curiosity.

“Medicine?”

“Hm. To help with the current situation,” Meng Yao cautiously explained.

“May I… may I give it to him? I feel so useless, everyone is doing something now, while I’m just staying here. I… I want to help him.”

Meng Yao hesitated, and glanced at Yu Ziyuan who shrugged again.

“You can help him when you’re married to him,” she decided. "For now, he is still the responsibility of Qinghe Nie, so it's normal for one of its disciples to care for him."

Meng Yao relaxed and continued his task, while Lan Xichen, disappointed and unsure what else to do, took again Nie Huaisang’s hand. 

"You're not wrong about being useless," Yu Ziyuan remarked. "If you want to help this badly, go see if the kitchens need anything. They're always short on people, and I'm sure they'll find you something to do other than mope around like this." 

Although cooking wasn't something he was proficient at in any way, Lan Xichen still felt grateful to be given a task at last. He rose up and made to leave, only to change his mind and quickly come press a kiss to Nie Huaisang’s forehead. 

"I'll be back, A-Sang," he promised. "And tomorrow we'll get married."

"You certainly will," Yu Ziyuan agreed with a smirk. "And I've checked already: it'll be an auspicious day for it." 

-

There was plenty of work to be done in the kitchen, just as Yu Ziyuan had predicted, and some of it could be done even by someone as unskilled as Lan Xichen. He was given a knife, a pile of vegetables to peel, and asked to do his best if he wanted a decent wedding feast. Food was not particularly on his mind at the moment, but having something to do with his hands, and an unusual task at that, forced him to focus on what he was doing instead of worrying about what was to come. All of his anger and grief were taken out on those unfortunate vegetables.

Whenever he took a break, Lan Xichen found himself watching Jiang Yanli give orders and handle everything, helping the cooks when needed. She seemed perfectly at ease doing this, a stark contrast to the meek young woman he’d occasionally spotted during conferences, and who upon learning they might get engaged had shyly said she was sorry they were pushed together when neither of them wanted this. Lan Xichen felt deeply sorry as well that she would not get a better husband, and wondered how odd this situation might be for her, helping prepared a feast to marry her suitor to a dying person.

He must have looked at her too often. After their eyes met a few times, Jiang Yanli came to see him and asked how he was handling things.

“I fear I’m not very good at peeling carrots,” he confessed. “But I’ll continue trying, since it’s the only thing I can do.”

“You’re better at it than my brothers,” she assured him. “But I was asking more about… about this situation. I cannot imagine what this must be like.”

“I imagine your position is unpleasant as well. I am sorry that you and your family have gotten mixed up into our affairs this way.”

Jiang Yanli smiled. “If your father and my mother have their way, it seems your family affairs will be my family affairs someday. And even if that doesn’t happen, Nie gongzi protected my brother, so this concerns us, in a way. I am so glad Jiang Cheng made such a good friend.”

Lan Xichen nodded, his eyes falling to the pile of badly peeled vegetables in front of him. 

He should have been glad, perhaps, that people suddenly were taking notice of Nie Huaisang, but he couldn’t help being upset. Mostly, because apparently Nie Huaisang had had to get himself nearly killed to be really appreciated. In Lan Xichen's opinion, Nie Huaisang should have been noticed for his other qualities, the ones that were truly a part of him, rather than this recklessness he had only acquired when forced to. Lan Xichen had come to love and respect Nie Huaisang for his cleverness, his artistic skill, his good understanding of how people thought, and he wished others would have respected him for the same reasons.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to upset you,” Jiang Yanli said. “I will leave you alone. There’s a lot to be done before tomorrow, and it’s already late.”

“It is, and I am grateful for your efforts, Jiang-guniang.”

Jiang Yanli turned away, ready to go help some more.

“Jiang-guniang, wait,” Lan Xichen called. “I… I have to say something more.”

She stopped, and smiled at him with such sincere concern it almost hurt.

“I’m listening.”

Lan Xichen took a deep breath to centre himself.

“Jiang-guniang, if it does come to a marriage between us when this is over, I will do my best to be a good husband. I know you do not want me as your husband, and I am sorry you might be forced into this anyway. And so I will endeavour to make sure you are happy, as much as it is in my power to do so. I have little to offer you, except my friendship and respect, but I will gladly give you both.”

“That is more than my last fiancé was willing to give me,” Jiang Yanli replied with a strained smile. “More than many women get. I am a reasonable person, Lan gongzi, and I will satisfy myself with that, if this does happen.”

She went back to work then, leaving Lan Xichen alone with his pile of miserable carrots, to go with his miserable mood. 

He stared for a while at the vegetables, then at the knife in his hand, wondering if any of this even had a point. Rage built up within him, turned against his father who had caused such suffering around him, against his mother for starting this whole chain of event, against Nie Huaisang for not seeing that Qingheng-Jun had set him on an impossible quest. Above all, he felt a burning rage against himself for being so weak and obedient that he hadn’t seized any of the chances offered to him to set things right before it was too late.

Had he been alone, Lan Xichen might have broken into tears, or screamed, or unsheathed his sword and turned it against the room around him, just to feel in control of something.

But he was not alone, and there was much to be done.

So he picked another carrot from the pile and started peeling it.

-

When morning came, Lan Xichen had not slept. 

Even after being kicked out of the kitchen when there was no longer anything for him to do, he simply had not been able to rest. He tried to go see Nie Huaisang, but his uncle caught him on the way there and told him it would be bad luck to see his fiancé before the ceremony.

The idea that their luck could be anything but bad anyway made Lan Xichen laugh and laugh, until he ended up crying against his uncle’s shoulder. Lan Qiren allowed it for a long while, then took him to the room that had been given to Lan Wangji where a mattress had been hurriedly added for him. Yu Ziyuan had offered to give Lan Xichen his own room, but Lan Qiren had insisted such an arrangement would be better.

For this, Lan Xichen was grateful. Even though his brother was not a very talkative person, nor a very demonstrative one, his company was still appreciated. Lan Wangji, who always fell asleep at the same hour, made the effort of staying awake alongside his brother and, at Lan Xichen’s request, told him the full story of what had happened in that cave. He tried to feel proud of his lover, but above all he felt once again bitter that Nie Huaisang had thought he needed to go to such lengths.

Eventually, Lan Wangji gave in to sleep, and Lan Xichen remained alone. He tried to sleep as well, guessing the day to come would be long. He had little success in doing so, too many thoughts running through his mind. When that failed, he tried to meditate instead, with little more success. So instead he resolved to simply wait until morning, and left the room as soon as the first hints of dawn appeared in the sky.

Unsure how much he would be allowed to wander, Lan Xichen went to walk by the piers, hoping the lake would bring him some peace. All it did, though, was deepen his sorrows as he found himself thinking that Nie Huaisang would have loved the way this scenery looked in the golden light of dawn, how pleasant it would have been to watch the sun rise together. They'd done it in the Cloud Recesses sometimes, on those few times they'd had a chance to spend the night chatting together. Lan Xichen remembered those as the most colourful sunrises of his life. He wondered how dull dawn would feel in the future, without Nie Huaisang to share it with. 

His mood darkened further when, as he walked back toward the buildings of Lotus Pier, Lan Xichen found himself face to face with his father who was also out for a morning stroll. Barely keeping his anger in check, Lan Xichen tried to pass by him without acknowledging him, only for Qingheng-Jun to grab his wrist.

“You will regret this,” his father warned. “It is morbid and will bring you bad luck.”

With more force than he would have allowed himself normally, Lan Xichen pulled his wrist free and glared at his father.

“I might regret it,” he conceded. “I also might not. Right now, I think it is the right thing to do. And didn’t Yu-furen say that she checked, that today is the most auspicious day possible for a wedding?”

“Yu Ziyuan is not kind enough to help others so easily. If she’s doing this, then she must have reasons of her own.”

Lan Xichen almost smiled, remembering Yu Ziyuan stating that her motivation wasn't kindness indeed, and more of a personal dislike against Qingheng-Jun. Growing up, Lan Xichen had sometimes felt guilty for holding a grudge against his absent father. There was a certain comfort to be found in discovering that others disliked him as well.

“I don’t think you have any right to judge others’ motivations, father,” Lan Xichen calmly retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get ready for my wedding. My husband is waiting.”

“Don’t come crying to me when this goes wrong!” Qingheng-Jun warned.

Lan Xichen stared at him in shock. Then, too exhausted to keep himself in check, he laughed.

“Not once in my life have I ever looked to you for comfort. Why would I start now?”

Before his father could scold him for being insolent and unfilial, Lan Xichen left. He had better things to worry about than his father's offended pride.

After all, it was his wedding day. 

[welcometotheocverse]

What do your Gilmore Girls oc’s - as in, the ones related to the Gilmore’s, (Hope, Kit, etc), think of Jason and Lorelei’s relationship to him?

Um okay  lesse. 

Starting off with Amelia  she’s not super keen on him. Unlike Max he doesn’t bother trying to get to know Lorelai’s kids and that rubs her the wrong way. She’s also already dealing with Luke impulse-marrying/haphazardly dating Nicole ( iirc? I gotta look up the timeline but I believe so) and is kinda “can you two just be single for one entire year??” She doesn’t know much about him but her impression of him is that he’s cut from the same Hartford cloth as her grandparents and she very much wonders what her mom sees in him ( and asks Rory as much when they’re hanging out just the two of them) Also the insistence of “date me. Please date me.” prior to his relationship with Lorelai absolutely spooks her  and she’s constantly squinting like “do I Need to use the right hook dad taught me or nah?” and she might get some guys from the SHH football team to kick him out of the Firefly  when he pulls the whole “im not leaving until you agree to get back with me” because being the Gilmore Danes Baby comes with perks.

El likewise is sorta...put off by how insistent he is? He also isn’t sure it’s a good idea to date him since he knows it was Emily and Richard’s horrible behavior that sent her to call him. ( “and like I don’t Do dating/romance but dating someone because your parents  abuse you seems....like...like....not a good plan?” not that he says this to his mother of course but he does say it to Brad. It should also be noted that out of all my  Rory sibling ocs Elliot is one of the fastest to Actively call Emily and Richard abusive in re to their behavior to Lorelai. So he understands a bit of how that interplays with Lorelai’s behavior and dating Jason but all the same...he’s not thrilled. ) Elliot also actually liked Max and was pretty upset by how that all ended so he’s not open to his mom dating another guy that might or might not keep around. And again, Jason canonically doesn’t really  make an effort to get to know Rory so El doesn’t know him from a hole on the ground and sorta mistrusts him tbh. Everything from the fact that he works for Richard to the whole “your mother hates me so you should date me” ( which El’s just...he kinda sees it as Jason using Emily and Lorelai’s history in his favor and he’s...not a fan.) just puts him on edge tbh and he’s sad for his mom when it doesn’t work out but also lowkey relieved.

Hope is super protective of Lorelai like to the nth degree ( understandably so tbh)  and understands on a personal level how parental abuse can leave you wanting to date people who really aren’t worth your time and energy and the why of it all. That being said both in spite of that and because of  that she’s so  so not here for his insistence and has considered pulling Lorelai aside and being “I love you but from one Gilmore Girl to another, anyone who you date after one of mom’s flagellations should be considered the same as someone you chose to date while drunk.” ( but  is also afraid that will push Lorelai away from her and she...Lorelai and Rory  are the only family that haven’t hurt her so it’s messy yknow)  She very much gives him a shovel talk and lowkey thinks his only redeeming quality is he wanted to tell Emily and Richard about them ( she understands more than anything not wanting to tell their parents...anything tbh because like Lorelai says “ When something good happens to me, I'm just afraid you're gonna make me feel bad about it nd when something bad happens to me, I’m always afraid you’ll say “I told you so.“  but she’s also “Lore...you can’t just keep hiding this from them it’ll come out and badly”) She’s overall pretty unimpressed by him and is very concerned by the fact that Lorelai  chose  to date him. She pretty much warms him upfront that if he’s trying to mess with Lorelai or take advantage of the fact that Emily  messes with Lore’s head they’ll never f-ing find his body. 

Sofia likewise is incredibly  protective of Lorelai and like on instinct distrusts anyone that her parents ( Richard and Emily) like so she’s pretty much “nope don’t trust him” from the get go. She’s mostly just glad Emily has someone to be a b-tch to that isn’t her and/or Lorelai (”she’s giving him the tripple freeze, makes it a lot warmer where we’re sitting”) She thinks the fact that he thinks Richard and Emily won’t ruin his relationship with Lorelai is sorta naive?(  like “of course they will. We’re seasoned Gilmore Daughters. We know this”)  But  also that pursuing it is sorta dumb. She’s pretty  cold towards him when they start dating but is also incredibly incredibly disgusted by his parents tbh and jesus she just hates that entire family and the fact that her father will associate with them. About the only good thing that comes from that arch from her is she gets a bit of a softer view of her mother since she actually knows the separation happened because of Emily asking Richard not to sue Jason after Lorelai begged him not to.

But also she ( this very soft spoken and quiet little girl who  in s1 would cry if someone glared at her) basically  tells him to get out of her sister’s inn before she grabs a gardening shovel from the tool shed when he pulls the thing at the inn.

Kit is probably  the one who has the least unfavorable opinion about him? Like he doesn’t really  know him that well and because of how badly Richard treats him ( and Emily sometimes) he’s really not that bothered by his mom dating someone in the merits of “it’ll piss the Harford Gilmores off” like tbh he sorta gets it. He does  get “lmao nope” when he pursues Lorelai  at the  inn  and is actually  the one to tell Luke Jason and Lore aren’t together and might be the one to make the call that his condo was on fire and considers getting a baseball bat tbh. But until then he’s pretty indifferent towards him. 

But also he’s absolutely disgusted with how Richard treated him like “that was his partner?? And he sold him down the river?? For people that screwed him ( Richard) over?? He tanked this guys business to keep all the money with that other rich asshole??” ( keeping in mind Kit is the one with the worst relationship with Richard and the one who gets treated the worst by Richard. And also that growing up with mostly blue collared people rich assholes ( tm) screwing over a new business is really something about the Hartford Elite/upper circles that he really abhors.) So mostly he’s just focused on how horrible everyone involved  in that lawsuit is and is like “anyways  im so glad im not involved with y’all because I’m The Dumb Gilmore and didn’t need a college fund” and pretty much just rants/talks to Tristan about it like “anyways babe you won’t believe what The Jackwagon Allegiance did this time-”

So like tbh none of them like Jason much and they absolutely  are “yeah but how bout no tho” when he gets uber pushy and their opinion absolutely plumets when the stuff goes down in Raincoats And Recipes.

But a lot of them ( Kit and  Hope in particular) also incredibly disgusted with how Richard treated him and how the  whole thing was handled ( Floyd calling PIs on his son? Asshole Move. Floyd suing Richard over petty  shit? Asshole Move. Basically everything that followed? Asshole Moves.) and all of them are also pretty critical of  how Richard told Lorelai she only cared about her boyfriend when she in fact broke up with Jason over him not droping the lawsuit ( Elliot who in Tristan’s words is “a bit of a paragon( affectionate)” might actually tell him about it and remind him that maybe he should say sorry in his very soft but not unsure Elliot way which might mean that Richard apologizes to Lorelai  bc honestly i need it) so they also don’t give him much thought past “why did Lorelai date him again?” and don't pay him much mind until the events of the s4 finale.

Honorary mention: Lily St James who grew up with abusive parents ( and thereforeis never here for Any toxic bullshit from Anyone), sees Lorelai as a second mom,  and has zero chill punches him in the face when he shows up at the inn and pretty much was “nah” from the start so...there’s that. 

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

[kpoptrashibnida]

Enough Pt. 10

A/N: What is up my peeps! Here is part 10, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed/wanted! Happy Reading!

WARNINGS: 18+, SMUT

Chanyeol knew that what he was doing was borderline insane. He didn’t understand it himself, really. It was as if something possessed his body and took over his normally cool and collected self. He felt powerless to his impulse, the need to know the information he wanted overpowered his sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. But then again, he felt like he didn’t know how to properly differentiate from the two. He often knew what was right but didn’t always do it. 

‘It’s okay to look. It’s for research purposes. I just want to see what she is up to. There’s nothing wrong with that…’ Chanyeol thought as he willed himself to open up his Instagram app and type your name in the search box. He groaned in frustration as thousands of pages popped up with similar names to yours. When you two were hooking up he never added you in any of his social media accounts. He figured that it would make things less complicated if you weren’t there to see all the posts he would like and comment on or get tagged in. He didn’t want anything messy or complicated and that’s why he used to be fine with not having you on his social media. 

After weeks of not hearing from you or being able to get into contact with you, he finally decided to hit rock bottom and look you up online. The only problem is that it seemed like everyone and their mother had the same name as you. Trying to find your profile was going to be a wild goose chase, so he went on Suho’s instagram to look up Mina and from there to look for you. Thankfully that plan worked perfectly because he was able to find you right away in Mina’s followers list. He was very relieved when he saw that your page was public, giving him access to your photos without having to follow you. If your account had been private, he knew he was not going to add you because he was too prideful. 

Your instagram feed was pretty safe; it consisted of photos of food, landscapes, photos of you and Mina and a few cute selfies. There was a photo that caught his attention. At first sight it only looked like a photo of a coffee cup at a cafe, but once he clicked on the photo and zoomed in, he could see the corner of a face that appeared to be of a man. There was no indication on the caption that you were with anyone in particular and no one was tagged. The caption read ‘it’s always coffee o’clock’. Which meant nothing because you were obsessed with coffee. The person in the photo could be a guy but it could also be a girl with a short hair style. Or it could be a coworker and nothing else. 

‘No need to freak out.’ Chanyeol thought, ‘it’s probably nothing. She is probably too busy to date anyway.’ 

He couldn’t help himself and clicked on the comments to see what people wrote. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary… until he saw the one comment.

Itsminakim: drink water hoe ;p

Itssuhokim: im surprised you don’t have kidney failure by now

Gldnboiijk: noona! I miss getting you coffee! Plz come back to seoul. I miss you >.<

Jjh_2019: i’m glad i met the person that loves coffee as much as i do :D

The last comment rubbed Chanyeol the wrong way even though it wasn’t necessarily a flirty or incriminating comment. Something about it just bothered Chanyeol and he couldn’t understand why. He clicked on the profile and was annoyed at the fact that this person’s profile was private. All he could see what that his name is Jung Jaehyun and that he works for Friends Corp as well. He clearly is one of your coworkers, and hopefully nothing else. Chanyeol finally sighed and put his phone away, deciding that he did enough digging for one day. You seemed to be having a good time in New York and he should be happy for you. And he was, he just hoped he could talk to you. He had been busy at work producing music for a multitude of artists, his songs actually being very successful. He was elated at the fact that he had an actual career now doing something that he loved and it was going well for him now. 

He finally felt like he was getting his life together and he wanted to keep improving as a person. He wanted to be someone that you would be proud of and would be willing to give him a second chance. You were almost halfway through your year-long project contract and he was really hoping he could get in touch with you by the time you got back. Suho was still being a hardass and not budging on giving him any more information about you. It sucked that even his close friend didn’t believe that he could change and be more serious about his relationships. 

“Mr. Park.” Jihyo said as she knocked on his office door.

“Yes, come in.” He said, putting his phone away in his drawer.

“Ms. Kim is here with her manager. They’re in the conference room and they’re ready to start on the new single.” Jihyo informed, holding the door open for Chanyeol.

“Thank you Jihyo.” He followed her out the door and to the conference room.

‘No time to focus on those things. It’s time to focus on work and grind.’ He thought, putting on a smile on his face as he walked into the conference room, ready to tackle a new project.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After a long week of work you were glad to finally be able to relax and enjoy your time off. The pop-up project was halfway completed and it was crunch time. You were busy setting up meetings with local newspapers, magazines, tv stations and online blogs. You had endless conference calls and meetings. What helped you stay sane was working with your three favorite boys, endless cups of coffee and the foot massages Jaehyun would give you after long days of meetings and presentations. 

You filled up your bath with lavender salts and turned on some relaxing music. You started to undress and you slowly sat down on the tub, letting out a low groan at the feeling of the hot water relaxing your muscles. 

“I brought that wine. Still want it?” Jaehyn asked as he walked into your bathroom with two glasses of wine. 

“Yes please.” You sat up and excitedly grabbed the wine glass form Jaehyun.

He sat down on a stool you had in your bathroom and sipped on his wine with a smile on his face as he watched you relax as you drink your wine. He eyes the wet skin of your chest and looks away before his thoughts get too carried away. Ever since you two took your relationship to the next level, it was something you did almost on a daily basis. Jaehyun basically moved into your apartment because he mostly stayed at your place now. You’d go to work together, go home together, ate dinner together and fall asleep in each others arms after some passionate lovemaking. He already had some clothes at your place, occupying a small part of your closet. Your bathroom vanity also had his hair products, toothbrush and other personal items. Jaehyun was very excited about the way your relationship was going and he hoped it kept getting better. 

“So are you just going to sit there and stare off into space or are you going to join me?” You asked, amused at Jaehyun’s spaced out expression. You figured he was also very tired from the long work week and you thought he might need to relax as well. 

“You want me to join you? I don’t want to interfere with your relaxing bath.” He said, taking your empty glass away and putting it on the sink. 

“You won’t. Come in and relax with me.” You said with a sly smile, moving your hand in the water and making waves.

“Well if you insist.” He said with a chuckle. He quickly undressed and he was in his naked glory before you knew it. You gulped and looked away as he walked towards the tub. You don’t know why you got so shy all of a sudden. You have seen him naked multiple times but you couldn’t help the way your body reacts to him. You didn’t want to push him to anything because you were both tired, but you were insatiable when it came to Jaehyun. 

He got in behind you and tried to adjust himself in the small space. You tried to wiggle your body away from him so he had more space to get comfortable in but you were stopped by his hands on your hips. 

“Babe, unless you want me to have a problem, I’m going to need you to stop moving.” He bit out, trying to keep his growing erection away from your body. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, relaxing your body against his and placing your hands on top of his as they rested on your waist. 

You hum in contentment as your body started to relax, enjoying the warmth of the water and the heat that was radiating off Jaehyun’s body. He was enjoying having you in his arms but the way the water moved around him and your soft body on full display for him was making his body react in a carnal manner. He was trying hard not to focus on it, but his body had a mind of his own. You felt his erection press against your lower back and you tried to hold back the smile that was trying to escape. Jaehyun has very high stamina and you honestly are not complaining about it. It was so cute how he made no move to relieve himself of his needs and it warms your heart just how considerate he is of you and your needs. However, when it came to Jaehyun, you were very insatiable. He could take you over and over, day after day and you would not get tired of it. Deciding to put an end to both of your misery you turn around as best as you could in the cramped space of the tub, facing Jaehyun with a sly smile on your face.

“What are you doing?” He asked with an amused smile on his face. 

“I wanna kiss you.” You tried to hover above him and he adjusted himself so you could slip your thighs around him easier.

You leaned in to kiss him, your chest pressed up against him sensually with the way the water caressed both your bodies. Jaehyun kissed you back with fervor, allowing his hands to roam your hips and thighs, eventually making it to your ass and squeezing slightly. His actions made you moan into his mouth which fueled the need in him. His erection was pressing against your thigh and you couldn’t take it anymore. You were already soaking wet and you just needed Jaehyun in you. Breaking the kiss, you widen your stance even further and move up Jaehyun’s body, aligning your center with his hard cock. He guides your hips as you sink down on him, groans leaving both your mouths as you feel yourself being stretched out by his thick cock.

“You feel so good.” You pant against his neck, the stimulation of the water and his dick was overwhelming.

“I can’t get enough of you baby.” Jaehyun grunted, snapping his hips upward as he pounded into you.

You moaned at the feeling, not really worried at the fact that water was splashing everywhere and making a mess. You were more occupied with what was going on between your thighs.

“Fuck baby, I think I’m going to cum.” Jaehyun panted, throwing his head back with a low moan as you moved yourself up and down on his cock, squeezing your walls around him. 

After a few more thrusts you felt yourself come undone, a low moan escaping your lips and you shuddered on top of Jaehyun. Your pussy clenching around him is what finally brought him to his climax, both of you panting and holding each other in the blissful aftermath. You pulled away slightly to look at Jaehyun and you couldn’t help but smile at him, leaning in to kiss him with ernest. The kiss was electrifying and soon the kiss became more intense and urgent. 

You laid on your bed face down with nothing on but your fluffy bathrobe. Your mind and body were exhausted and all you wanted to do was sleep even though your stomach was rumbling loudly. After your session in the bathtub with Jaehyun, he gave you one more orgasm in the bathtub and another one in the shower. By the time you were out of the shower you were clean and exhausted. Jaehyun had to help you into your robe and carry you to the bed because your legs felt like jelly and they weren’t functioning properly. Once he left you on the bed, he got dressed and left to the kitchen. You were finally dozing off when you heard the bedroom door open, making you open one eye to see Jaehyun come in with a pizza box in hand.

“Hey babe, I have dinner. You should eat something before you sleep, you had a rough day.” He said, slyly putting emphasis on the word rough.

You rolled your eyes and sat up to sit at the head of the bed, happily accepting the plate that Jaehyun hands over. He also brought you some ginger ale and set it down on the night stand beside you. He turned on the tv to put on your favorite tv show while you ate. You felt blissfully happy like this, next to Jaehyun and in your home. Once you were done eating and brushed your teeth, you fell asleep almost instantly wrapped in Jaehyun’s arms. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 It was Sunday night and you were folding laundry while watching TV; Jahyun had gone to get some Chinese food and you were getting everything ready for your work week. You were in the middle of hanging some skirts when your phone went off. You saw that it was Mina and instantly went to pick it up, happy to hear from your best friend.

“Mina! How are you?” You answered excitedly, making her chuckle.

“Dang girl, you’re that happy to hear from me?” She said, amused at your tone. 

“I’m always happy to hear from you silly.” You said as you walked to the laundry room, placing the last clean load into the dryer. 

“You’re so cute! Well I am calling you because  I have some news…” Mina trailed off, making you curious and slightly nervous. 

“Are you okay?” You asked instantly, worried that there was something wrong. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Better than fine actually, I’m great. I wanted to call and tell you the news… I’m pregnant!” She said excitedly, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth. 

“Oh my god? Really? How far along are you?” You asked, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You were going to be an aunt!

“I am 4 weeks along. We wanted to wait until the first trimester was over before we told the news to anyone. But now that the doctor gave us the all clear and everything looks good, we decided to break out the good news!” Mina sounded so excited as she explained the situation.

You were so immersed in your conversation you didn’t even notice Jaehyun walk in to the apartment. He heard your excited chatter and figured you were on the phone with Mina. You only ever got that animated talking to her. He placed the bags of food on the counter and sat on the stool, patiently waiting for your call to end.

“I am so beyond happy for you and Suho. As if you guys couldn’t be the most perfect couple, now you’re going to be the most perfect parents. Please send me as many updates! Link my calendar with yours so I know when you have your doctors appointments.” You said sternly, making Mina laugh.

“Oh my god and I thought Suho was bad, you’re worse! But of course I am going to keep you updated on everything. You’ll get sick of me.” She giggled playfully, making you roll your eyes at her antics.

“I could never get sick of you. I wish I could be there with you.” You whispered the last part, not trusting your voice at that moment. Tears threatened to escape but you willed them back, not wanting to make her worry.

But of course, Mina wasn’t your best friend just in title, she knows you better than you know yourself.

“Don’t cry bitch, you’re going to make me cry.” She chastised, voice sounding wobbly as well.

Before you could say anything else, you heard a distant and muffled ‘hey!’, before Mina could continue.

“Right! Sorry babe! Suho wants me to stop cursing. He says that the baby can hear and he wants me to not say bad words around the baby once it’s born. It’s so hard though!” She whined, making you laugh.

“He’s got a point.” You agreed, making her whine at you because you are her best friend and you should be on her side, not her husbands. 

“Alright babe, I have to get going. I just wanted to call you to let you know of the newest member of the Kim family. I have to call my mom and my sister before it gets too late.” She rambled, speaking faster than normal. Those pregnancy hormones are no joke. 

“You haven’t told your sister or your mom?” You asked in disbelief.

“Of course not. I called you first.” She said in a nonchalant voice.

“Aww you do love me!” You teased, knowing how much Mina hates when you do that.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now. Love you.” She says, blowing a kiss into the receiver.

“Love you too.” You reply, hanging up the call. 

“Everything okay?” You jumped when you heard Jaehyun’s voice behind you. 

“You startled me!” You said in a breathless laugh, your hand on your chest as if to stop the erratic beating of your heart.

“Sorry babe, you were really into your conversation and I didn’t want to interrupt.” He said as he made his way towards you, snaking his arms around your waist to bring you close to him and press a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“It’s okay.” You said, standing on your toes to give him a small peck on the lips.

“So what was your call about?” He inquired as you both made your way to the kitchen, where the forgotten food was.

“Mina called me to tell me she is pregnant.” You said with a smile, taking your food boxes out of the bag.

“That’s amazing! But how come you look a little down?” He asked, noticing that you didn’t seem as excited as you were earlier when you were talking to Mina. 

“Well, it’s just that I always thought I’d be there with Mina during her pregnancy. To go with her to her doctor’s appointments, to help her set up the nursery, go shopping for baby clothes… and I’m going to miss out on a lot of that.” You explained, sniffling away the tears that threatened to come out again.

Jaehyun came over to your side and wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, rubbing slow circles on your back.

“I understand that you are upset. But the project will be over before she’s due. You’ll be able to see her then.” He said with a soft smile, hoping his words will cheer you up.

“You’re right babe.” You replied, feeling a little better about the whole situation. 

Later that night as you lay in bed, you were feeling anxious again. This time it wasn’t about Mina’s pregnancy, but about the end of this year long project. Once it was over, you were going to go back to Seoul. You couldn’t move to the states and you didn’t even know what was going to happen to Jaehyun once the project was over. Your guess is that he is staying in New York because he was already stationed here before the project started. You did not want to think about what would happen to your relationship, but it was hard to ignore the reality of it all. Jaehyun truly was the best guy you have ever been with and you did not want that to end. You didn’t even know what Jaehyun was going to want to do; maybe long distance is not something he is into. You tossed and turned that night with a heavy feeling in your chest and a cold empty spot next to you in bed.

“Damn noona, you okay?” Mark asked as you walked into your office, he handed you a coffee cup and you sat down and powered on your computer.

“I feel like hell.” You said, sipping your coffee and closing your eyes contentedly.

“No offense noona but you look like hell too.” He giggled at your glare and sat down on the chair in front of you.

“Thanks. Glad to know the ten minutes I spent this morning trying to look decent was a complete waste of time.” You said sarcastically.

“I’m just messing with you. By the way, the meeting is in fifteen minutes.” He reminded you, making you groan out in misery. You did not feel like going to this meeting. You just wanted to be holed up in your office and not interact with anyone. Well, maybe just interact with one person. 

“Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Do you have the revised briefing packets?” You asked, mentally preparing yourself for your day.

“Yes! I made all the copies and they’re ready to go.” He informs, standing up to leave your office.

“Thanks, I’ll see you in ten.” You said, waving goodbye and focusing on your computer screen.

You brought up your calendar and email, ready to see your work load for the day. A knock caught your attention and you growled lowly before telling the person to enter.

“Hey babe, just wanted to say hello this morning.” Jaehyun said as he walked in your office.

“Oh, hi honey. I didn’t know it was you.” You said as you got up from your desk and made your way to him.

“Are you okay? You look a bit tired.” He said with concern, eyes scanning your face.

You frowned at him, giving him your best pouty face. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” You informed, draping your arms around his shoulders.

“Aww you couldn’t sleep without me there?” He teased, giving your nose a peck. You didn’t say anything, you just lay your head on his shoulder and hug him silently. This made Jaehyun a little worried since you weren’t normally like this.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? Wanna talk about it?” He whispered, hugging you tighter to him.

You hummed against his shoulder and turned your face to place a small kiss on his neck. He tilted his head towards you to give you a peck on your cheek, but you moved your head at that time and connected your lips with his. He kissed you slowly and sweetly but you deepen the kiss, pulling him closer to you. Jaehyun is a bit surprised, since you usually try to not get too physical at work. However he doesn’t pull away or try to slow you down. He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you closer to him, the kiss  getting deeper.

“Ahem, sorry to interrupt but the meeting is starting in five…” Johnny said from tour doorway, you and Jaehyun jumping away from each other the second Johnny cleared his throat. 

“Thank you Jon.” Jaehyun said, clearing his throat a couple times.

“Welcome. Oh! And just a tip, close the door next time.” He rolled his eyes and he walked towards the conference room. 

“Okay, well after that humiliating bit, we should get going to the conference room.” He said, gently wiping your lips with his thumb. 

“At least it was him and not one of the receptionists.” You said with a shudder, making Jaehyun laugh as he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the conference room.

Everyone got settled into their assigned seats, waiting for the head project manager to arrive. Mark has already placed a copy of the briefing packet in front of every seat and was happily seated in the back row, ready to take as many notes as needed. 

The room quieted down when Park Jeongsu, the project manager, entered the room and took his spot at the head of the room. He is a man in his late thirties and is incredibly handsome and youthful for a man his age. He is well respected by his coworkers and he does an exceptional job as a project manager. Everyone is happy working under his wing and he is part of the reason why the project is ahead of schedule. 

“Good morning everyone, thank you for being here this morning, ready to tackle today’s meeting.” He started, smiling at everyone in attendance. “I see that the marketing team has handed out their packets, so let’s start with that.” He sat down and let you take over with your proposal. 

You went over the details of all the promotions the marketing team is doing to spread awareness of the new popup shop and the website. You went into detail about all the influential people your team was going to invite to make an appearance at the opening gala, as well as naming all the benefactors that will be invited as well. You sat down after your short presentation, everyone in the room murmuring in approval and excitement.

“Thank you very much, excellent job as always.” Mr. Park said, getting back up from his seat. “Now for the opening gala, there are a few details left. Miss Lee, would you please update us on the status of those details.” He said, giving Wendy the floor to speak.

“Thank you. We were finally able to find a new vendor that can provide the linens needed for the gala. They are willing to special make the linens in the colors that we need for the event, so the orders are already in for that and they should be getting delivered here within the next two weeks. The final detail we need to complete the project is choosing our musical guest appearance. We want to best represent Korea with some of its best artists and producers. We have gotten in contact with some of the artists and we are waiting for a reply from their managers or agencies.” Wendy reported expertly. She’s not the head of event planning for nothing. 

“That’s wonderful news. Is it possible to know who you have in mind?” Mr. Park asked

“Yes of course. We want to have a diversity of groups and decided it would be good to have a male group, a girl group and some solo artists. For the male group we decided to reach out to GOT7, for the girl group we decided to reach out to AOA. The solo artists we have contacted are Eric Nam and Hwasa. We also thought it would be a good idea and a great promotional opportunity if we also work with up-and-coming artists. There’s actually a brilliant rookie composer who has been working with rookie artists and every song he has produced has been a complete hit. I believe it would be a great opportunity for us if we reach out to him in order to mutually benefit from each other.” Wendy explained, an excited buzz going around the room at the possibility of having these amazing musical appearances.

“Very impressive and excellent choice of artists. What is the name of this rookie producer?” Mr. Park asked, intrigued at the fact that a new producer is already making a splash in the music industry.

“He goes by the name of Loey. I can email everyone some of the songs he has produced so we can all get acquainted with his style. He is very unique in the sense that he only likes to work with rookie artists.” Wendy explained, fast fingers already sending out the mass email with Loey’s playlist.

“Perfect. Well, I am thoroughly impressed by everyone’s hard work and contribution to this project. That is all for today's meeting, thank you all for your time and have a great day.” Mr. Park concluded, bowing slightly before exiting the room. Everyone got up and left to their respective positions. 

“How cool is it going to be to have those musical appearances?” Mark asked excitedly, practically vibrating as he walked next to you in the direction of your office.

“If we actually get them, it will be amazing.” You smiled, actually excited for the musical guests as well.

You entered your office and opened up your email so you could check out Loey’s playlist that Wendy sent out. The email had a link to a youtube playlist and you played it on the background as you read the rest of your emails.

“Wow, is that Loey?” Mark asked as he entered your office, coffee and notes in hand.

“Well it's the songs he produced, he’s not the one singing them.” You replied, gracefully taking the coffee and notes from Mark.

“He is good!” Mark said, really enjoying the song being played. “Good lyrics and musical progression.” 

“Mark, I'm impressed you know so much about music.” You teased.

“It’s the second thing I love the most. The first being working with you, of course.” He replied cheekily, laughing at your eye roll.

“Okay, go work Mark, since you love it so much.” You said, dismissing him with a wave of your hand.

“Anything for you noona.” He winked and left your office, closing the door behind him.

You liked the songs you heard so far from the playlist and hoped that this producer would agree to work with you guys. You closed the browser for youtube and went back to your email, getting ready to do some work.

You were barely a few sentences into replying to your first email when your office phone rang. You saw that it was Wendy and answered immediately, confused as to why she would be emailing you.

“Hey Wendy, what’s up?”

“Hey! So I have some news.” She started, excitement in her voice.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” You asked, your curiosity peaked.

“So I actually just got a call back from Loey’s team and they said he is willing to work with us!” She exclaimed excitedly, hurting your ear with the volume of her excitement.

“That’s great!” You said, truly happy for her but still confused as to what this had to do with you. “Have you told Mr. Park yet?” 

“Yes, of course. I also needed to tell you though because Loey’s manager said that he is actually going to be in New York next weekend working on a project here. They said it would be a great opportunity to meet with reps of the company. And they said that Loey was very insistent on meeting the marketing director as well.” She explained, although you thought it was a bit odd.

“Why though? That seems a bit odd.” You said.

“I agree but they said he wants to be involved in how he and his artists will be promoted in the event.” She explained simply.

“Okay, well that makes sense I guess. Just email me when we are meeting him so I can make sure I clear my day.” You said, mentally going over your scheduled appointments for next week.

“Sounds great! Thanks!” Wendy said and you both hung up. 

“Well okay then.” You muttered to yourself. Ignoring the weird feeling in your gut and diving back into your work.

Previous                                                                     Next

[cosmiciaria]

Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate Review! (spoiler free - long post)

It's done! I finished my first AC game ever! And I loved it!! YAAAY!!

First things first: this is going to be an honest review. I liked the game, A LOT, more than I expected, actually, but it has flaws. Not many that I could find personally, but it has. But before I delve deeper into it, let's have an overview of the game.

AC: Syndicate is the ninth?, installment in the Assassin's Creed franchise. It's a sequel to Unity, that came out just a year before, but you don't need to play any of the other AC games to plunge into this one (or any of them, to be honest), since each game tells a self-contained story. If you've been living under a rock for the past decade or you don't know a thing about videogames, Assassin's Creed games follow a character in the present time, joining the Order of the Assassins, warriors and masters of stealth that have been at odds with the Templars since time immemorial. The Templars desire the pieces of Eden, magical artifacts created with ancient technology by the Precursors, gods and goddesses that somehow bear the names of the Roman pantheon members. These pieces of Eden are extremely dangerous in the wrong hands, but have been long lost to the folds of History and withered pages of books. The Assassins must find them in today's world, through the genetic memories buried within the DNA of the descendants of the Assassins that at some point in History have come into contact with those artifacts.

Well, that premise is true for all Assassin's Creed games. This time, we're following the same initiate we met during Black Flag and Unity, if I'm not mistaken. The previous games have followed Desmond Miles, an actual character with a face, but in these "in-between" installments, the initiate is a faceless placeholder for the player to incarnate them. But, to be honest, the present timeline is, uh, what's this word…

BORING.

Nobody cares what's going on in the present! Let's move on to the actual plot!

Syndicate takes us to Victorian London! Through the DNA of the initiate we travel in time to 1868, to the middle of the British capital. Our protagonists this time is a pair of twins: Jacob and, lo and behold, Evie Frye. I say "lo and behold" because this is the first official female assassin protagonist that we have in the mainline series of games. Prior to this game, we have Liberation which also followed a female assassin, the real first one, but that game is a spin off and mostly overlooked, since it came out only for the Vita sadly back in the day (although there's a remaster for the ps3!). Either way, all previous Assassin's Creed games (if Syndicate is the ninth, then you got the number) have starred male assassins as their protagonists. In Unity this came to a great peak when in the multiplayer co-op players were unable to play as female avatars, which caused a great ruckus. As Syndicate intended to mend many of the problems players found in Unity, we have now an official, canon female character in the main series! And I say: CHEERS TO THAT!

I MUST address this because it was one of the two reasons why I bought this game. I was never interested in the AC games but I've always wanted this one, because you could play as Evie Frye. As a female cis person, I find the lack of canon female protagonist to be baffling, to say the least (the actual word I'm looking for would be "annoying"). I'm not going to say that I'm forced to play as a male character all the time, because nobody forces me to play any game, I play them all because I wish to – but the truth is that, for many years, the videogame industry has been directed at one public only: boys. And some boys, for some reason, won't play the game if the protagonist is a girl or looks like a girl. And I don't care if the presence of a female character breaks your history immersion and whatnot: we have fricking magic in this game, do not throw historical accuracy at me for it. So, Ubisoft: I AM GLAD you created Evie Frye. She's fearless, she's relentless, she's clever, she has a clear goal in mind and solves every little piece to make the bigger plan work. She's badass without throwing her femininity off the window, and for a change she's the one saving the man in distress. I love her and her cloaks. Also she's cute as hell.

I am ALSO GLAD that Ubisoft created Jacob Frye! Jacob is a good balance to Evie, since he's more impulsive, a brawler, and likes throwing himself into battle. He speaks with fists, while never leaving his morals aside. He shows disregard for careful plans, but ultimately works in favor of them. He might sound a little stupid when I picture him this way, but he's not: he follows the creed strictly, during the assassination missions he shows clear precision, planification and ingenuity, and most importantly, he has a golden heart, and knows his ideals and principles very well. And for the love of Minerva, he's so handsome I might die.

So the Frye twins are both your protagonists this time! During the open world map and sidequests, you can switch between them on the fly. But during main missions, one of them will be assigned for you to play as and you'll be forced to complete the quest with either of them. Evie favors stealth, whereas Jacob is all about combat. This allows the player to tackle the game and the different activities as they see fit. If you're patient, probably Evie will be best for you, but if you can't handle the stealth, choose Jacob and start throwing punches! The city of London is open for you to choose the way you can liberate it.

And that takes me to my second reason why I bought this game: London.

For a not native-English-speaker as myself, who has learned and studied British English for over ten years, London will always hold a soft spot in my heart. Two years ago I was finally able to realize my dream and visit the city for the first time ever. I cried when I stepped out of St. Pancrasse station, understanding that my feet were touching English ground. So when I saw that this game not only offered me the chance to play as a female assassin, but it would also allow me to revisit London, I didn't think twice.

We follow Jacob and Evie to London, where they must meet Henry Green, the assassin watching over that city, in pursue of an important Templar figure: Starrick. Along the way to assassinate him, we'll take down other important Templar members, all responding to him. As I will keep this spoiler free, let's leave it at that. Let's just say that Starrick is in London, controlling every nook and cranny, while his second in command, Lucy Thorne, is reservedly researching the leads of a possible piece of Eden that might be hidden in the city's most secretive places.

London is so well recreated, I cried once when I stopped in front of the Big Ben. You're only able to visit and play through a portion of the city, around the Thames and Westminster, but still, even small though it seems, the map is big enough and full of activities to fulfill. The streets feel alive with its multiple, many, MANY npc's walking, running, driving carriages, interacting with each other, often having conversations as well! I was astonished when I was walking with Evie down an alley and an npc waved his hand to another npc that was some feet away, and the first one rushed to the second one to greet each other. It was such a realistic thing to see on the street that I was amazed at the technology behind it. As always, AC games excel at the presentation of countless npc's, each with a different animation and voices. On top of that, the city looks gorgeous, with so many details that I often stopped to stare, especially in the most emblematic buildings, like the different train Stations, the Parliament, St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, and, of course, the Buckingham Palace. Everything is so faithful and vibrant and alive, that… yes, I love it. I fricking love it. I travelled again there in this game and I'm thankful for it.

There are nine sequences with 4 to 7 memories each, and all of them are different and unique enough to make them memorable. In particular, the main assassination quests were complex, using exclusive scenarios to the mission, offering the player different paths to tackle the killing – they were my favorite out of all the game. The last mission was *chef kiss*.

Apart from the main missions, you can slowly liberate each neighborhood from the Templars' claws. Each borough has a set of different activities to complete in order for you to "conquer" it. Gang wars, bounty hunts, Templar hunts, there's a lot to do. It might seem a lot at first, but you'll soon see the patterns across the sidequests, only to (unfortunately) realize that they're all the same. These can get tiresome and repetitive after a while, but they're also the best way to level up and earn money quickly. My personal favorite were the child liberations, because I felt like I was doing a good deed and also as if Charles Dickens himself was asking me to do it.

Oh, yes, Charles Dickens is in this game! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, because I don't! He's one of my favorite authors, so, to be GIVEN a QUEST by HIM, I'm in tears guys, do you understand why I loved this game so much??

But Dickens isn't the only historical person that you'll encounter: Darwin also makes an appearance, as well as Marx (of whom I believed to be in Brussels, but I guess he visited London at some point – now I want an AC game set in Brussels), and Alexander Graham Bell, who will be your DaVinci of this game (Oh, now I want to play Ezio's games), offering you new toys to tinker with as you pave your way across the city. There are other historical people, but I won't mention them, since they're probably a spoiler, so I'll let you be surprised!

You'll have like a "hub world", or more like, a hub train – a train will be your hideout, your base, where you'll collect money, take some quests, interact with some characters and buy stuff cheaper. This train will constantly move around the city – sometimes I found myself appearing on the other side of the map because I was studying and investigating the things the train offered. I really liked the idea of a "moving base house", also it's quite fancy, and besides, I love trains. This game just keeps bringing me the good content.

Evie and Jacob are good protagonists – I'm not going to say they slay at it, but they serve the purpose. They're quite stereotypical, specially Jacob, as he seems to follow the trend Ezio imposed back in the day, and to which Arno also contributed – and Evie is quite the "polar opposite", a cliché often used on twins to express how "different they are". Their personalities are nothing new; what is endearing and worth noting, though, is their interactions. At first I thought "this is going to be another of the never-ending cases of twins acting like friends instead of siblings". I do come across this mistake more frequently than I'd like to, only broken by some exceptions (World of Final Fantasy is a really good one), even more if the twins are a boy and girl. I'm not saying twins shouldn't be friends themselves, but they're siblings first, for the love of Juno, and most creators who put twins into their stories don't seem to remember how siblings treat each other. Luckily, this game proved me wrong, since the Frye twins showed me that they're real siblings: not because they quarrel (they do, sometimes, quite forced in my opinion), but because of the way they look at each other, they care for each other, they often joke about the other, the familiarity and complicity they treat some topics with, because of the small banter that you can hear them have in the train hideout, how Jacob teases Evie with Henry or how Evie teases Jacob for the cloaks he's wearing – that, all of that, all combined, make up for a good sibling relationship and show me that these two have been brother and sister for a while now. I'm glad they ended up being one of the exceptions to this godawful rule among the fictional twin characters. I would've liked, though, maybe a few more scenes with them having a real heart to heart – I think we were robbed of one or two (specially after sequence 8 if you ask me- Jacob please, let's talk, baby).

Henry is another important character – although I thought he'd be more important. He ultimately appeared in less missions than I expected, and is soon relegated to be Evie's love interest and that's it. And even that is, uh… a little underwhelming. I kinda shipped them at first, then I was like "please, they're FRIENDS, don't force this", only to see myself getting disappointed. I think Henry needed more screentime for me to care more about him, and I definitely believe that, after that mission with Evie, we needed a cutscene with an explanation. It was kind of forgotten later, and he felt more like a plot device than anything else. I'm sad, because he could've been a great opportunity to show us a bit of Indian culture, and also because by the end of the game he's treated like another protagonist, when it doesn't feel like he'd earned it, though, considering the whole game. My opinion.

There are other characters worth mentioning, like Freddy Abberline, another historical person, whose running gag about disguises soon grew on me; Clara O'Dea, a little girl who asks us to liberate her fellow children friends from the claws of foremen who exploit them and acts like a little spy for us; Ned Wynart, who brings trans representation into the game; and some other sequence exclusive characters, who I won't mention because it will spoilerish. Let's just say that Jacob comes across a very interesting man.

On the technical department, I already said that London looks great, but I want to stress this: the whole game looks great. From cinematography to animations, I think they nailed the direction in this one. As my first AC game I can't speak for the others, but this one is a gem. I must mention though that the game crashed on me only once, and I was looking for the "destruction trophy", the one that asks you to break 5000 destructible items of the city – well, it seems I had destroyed enough and the game couldn't take any more wrecked chaos across London, but other than that I didn't encounter any bug nor any trophy didn't pop up. It looks great and it plays great: the controls are responsive, you swiftly dash across the city feeling unstoppable – sometimes controls didn't do what I wanted but it wasn't the game's fault, it was mine, so I can't blame it for my own stupidity.

The soundtrack is also such an unexpected jewel in this game. The solemn tracks that play on the background while you're peacefully traversing the city – some are lyrical and dramatic, others go well with a rainy suburb. The vibrant and electrifying tracks during battles or escapes did bring all the Sherlock Holmes movies vibes to the game. It was all – so English, if you catch my drift. The music did fit well with the British atmosphere they were aiming for.

The ending is satisfying – don't expect an opera prima, or a huge revelation, or groundbreaking plot twists. The story is fairly lineal in its presentation: this is the goal? Alright, the whole game goes for it. We can say that it's quite predictable, but let's be honest, we're not here for the ending or the things that might happen to discover the characters in the present time, we're here to assassinate people with our beautifully hidden blade – wait, that sounded way too violent – we're here for the gameplay, for the historical events, for the feeling of being an assassin, and for some world-building regarding the Precursors.

In regards to that, I cannot not mention the World War I Simulation – a rift in time appears in the Thames towards halfway through the game, and you can enter it – it will take you forward in time, to the same London that is now under the attack of the German. In this more modern time, you play as Lydia Frye, Jacob's granddaughter, also an assassin, who collaborates with no other than Winston Churchill to defeat the Templars. In this kind of DLC episode we learn way more about the Precursors, Juno, Minerva and other important figures to this world-building, that it's mostly lacking in the rest of the game. This simulation does feel like a DLC since it only offers a few hours of gameplay, the metaphor isn't in vain – it's a huge change of pace, it plays a little different since you'll be doing war stuff, and you also visit a portion of the city that isn't available in the main game: the Tower Bridge. It IS worth playing, though, not only for the trophies or for the extended map, but for what I said earlier: world-building. Juno plays a big part in this simulation, and I encourage you to play it, even though it's optional. Slowly but steadily, the world of the Precursors is unfolding before our very eyes. Also, Lydia, YASS another female assassin joins the family!

All in all, Syndicate is a positive experience. Sidequests are repetitive and mostly boring after you complete the first borough, some characters needed more screentime, Evie and Jacob could've used a sensitive cutscene with a deep conversation – but the mechanics, the gameplay, the city, the main missions, the relationship between the twins, the customization of weapons and outfits, and the fact that I literally entered Buckingham Palace after killing a royal guard or two – that, is more than enough to compensate for what it's lacking. You might be tired of the same formula over and over if you're a fan of the franchise, but do give the twins a shot. If you never play an AC game before, try this one out – it might turn you into an AC fangirl, like it did to me.

I'm a trophy hunter myself, so I'll try to platinum it! And now my eyes are intent on Unity, because, if you've seen this post, you know that Arno and Élise resemble two of my oc's, so now I need that game to be injected into my veins, thank you very much.

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 1 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Oh hi. Welcome to the Galactica sequel that I’ve been planning FOREVER. Like...literally since the time these two started interacting on Twitter, during season 10. Thanks to @artificialpuddle for the beta help, and @aqcitrus for brainstorming with me. <3

And of course, a HUGE thanks to @theartificialdane, for humoring me the whole way through and letting me explore this ship in the Galactica verse. It is mostly fluffy, fluffy shit, which is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I love them so much and I just want them to be happy.

I think it can easily be read as a stand-alone story. The only thing you need to know from Galactica is that at this point in the story, Courtney is a wildly successful queer pop star and star of a fictional Disney franchise called ‘Glimmer,’ which costars Honey Mahogany as her love interest.

Challenge Notes:

Story is told mostly from Vixen’s POV

Her BFFs: Asia, Monet, Monique, Mayhem (who show up in person in Chapter 2)

The title is a song by Cree Summer. I’ve also made a playlist for this story, which can be found here.

#Vixney4Eva

TW: vague reference to past transphobia, sexual apprehension/nervousness that should in NO WAY be construed as dubcon

***

It was Honey who introduced them. Or, rather, Honey who handed Courtney the book that started everything, on the set of Glimmer 3.

BEWARE WHITE TEARS: Performativity and Racial Justice, by Toni “Vixen” Taylor enthralled Courtney so much that she barely slept for 3 nights, devouring it twice. And then she read the whole thing again, slowly, highlighting the parts that blew her mind the most.

On set, when she just couldn’t stop raving about it, Honey laughed at her.

“So...you liked it?”

“Omigod, yes!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean, obviously I feel very called out. But in a good way? Like...this is making me rethink everything.”

“That’s good! I thought maybe you’d be offended,” Honey said, adjusting her crown.

“Offended? How long have we known each other?” Courtney giggled, bumping Honey with her hip. It was true: they’d been co-starring in the Glimmer franchise for 8 years at that point.

“Still.”

“But god, Honey, it was just...I mean, I don’t even have any words for how amazing it was. She’s so fucking smart and passionate, and so funny, and everything she says is like…” Courtney shook her head, starry-eyed.

“You should tell her,” Honey said with a saucy wink. “Send her a tweet or something.”

“She’s not gonna care what I think,” Courtney said. “I mean, hello? Chapter 4?”

“Okay, but she’s a professor. She’ll be thrilled that someone learned something. Besides, even if she doesn’t respond, maybe you’ll encourage your fans to read it.”

“That’s true…”

“And maybe get more people to listen to her podcast-”

“She has a podcast?!!” Courtney shrieked excitedly, then whispered, “Sorry,” when she saw the boom operator cringe.

Maybe Honey was right...but what should she say?

***

Vixen felt absolutely silly. There was really no reason for attention from a celebrity to make her so giddy. True, there’d been a phase when she hung on Courtney Act’s every word--but that was years ago. Early in her transition, when she felt like nothing she did was right. When she was desperate for any voice telling her that who she was was okay.

It was different now. She was 30 year old, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t need validation from anyone anymore, especially not a pop-star-come-Disney-princess. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone who asked.

But to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got when she saw that first notification on her phone. The mild anxiety all day as she taught two lectures and graded a handful of thesis proposals--a nagging thought in the back of her mind wondering how she should reply. It wasn’t until late into the evening, after 2 glasses of wine, that she allowed herself to read it again, slowly typing out a reply.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 15h Just read @professorvixtaylor’s “Beware White Tears” and my mind is BLOWN. Everyone needs to read this game-changing book. E V E R Y O N E!!!! It’s so good, so informative, so powerful. AND I just found out that she has! A! Podcast!! #obsessed <3 <3 <3 <3

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Glad you found it interesting! Thanks for the plug.

That was fine, right? Very chill. She went to sleep feeling pretty satisfied with herself. It wasn’t until the following morning when she saw Courtney’s response.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 6h Replying to @professorvixtaylor That is the understatement of the year!!! I LOVED it! You are BRILLIANT. I just listened to the first episode of your podcast and holy shit...it’s phenomenal.

Vixen put down her phone, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was shallow and cheap--being this enchanted by obviously exaggerated praise. But still...not a bad way to start the day.

***

Vixen was used to fighting. All of her life, it seemed, she’d had to prove herself. Scrape and claw for her voice to be heard. Shout into the void over and over, praying that someone would eventually listen. Demand attention and bang down doors and yell until she was hoarse.

Having someone at Courtney’s level of fame pay attention to her--emphatically describe her as brilliant, incisive, powerful, mind-blowing--Vixen’s impulse, in the beginning, was to lie. To say she didn’t need that kind of validation from anyone, especially a rich, famous, beautiful white girl. The embodiment of privilege. Someone whose coming out was celebrated in the media like a massive human rights achievement. Because how could someone like that ever really get it?

But on the other hand…she had to hand it to Courtney. She had excellent taste in podcasts.

And there was something soothing about a person who didn’t expect her to prove anything. Someone who respected her from the jump, who engaged with her book and her podcasts from a place of dignity, assuming that she knew what she was talking about. She didn’t demand back-up or further explanations when she came across material that was confusing. She did the work herself, looking up the articles and studies Vixen cited, posting them with a quote when something in particular caught her attention.

So reluctantly, over the next month or two, Vixen found herself warming to the idea of a real dialogue. It was January 1st, sitting on her grandmother’s plastic-covered sofa, when Vixen finally bit the bullet and slipped into Courtney’s DMs, so to speak.

Courtney had been tweeting up a storm over the holidays. Gobbling up her podcasts rapidly and hungrily, heaping her and her guests with praise and incidentally, making her subscriber numbers climb. She opened a direct message window, typing out a message that she hoped would make Courtney laugh.

@professorvixtaylor: Alright, already. This is getting embarrassing...

The response came within minutes.

@courtneyact: LOL! Listen, nobody ever accused me of a lack of enthusiasm.

@professorvixtaylor: I bet not ;)

It took one afternoon of DMs before Courtney gave Vixen her phone number. “Twitter’s great, but it’s probably easier to just text, right?”

Well.

Vixen had to admit, she had a point.

***

“So listen,” Latrice said, heaving a deep sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you this. Like, I really, really hate it.”

“Oh shit,” Courtney said, wrapping herself in a blanket and preparing herself for whatever horrible news her manager was about to deliver. “Go ahead…”

“This isn’t coming from me, okay? It’s coming from Disney.”

“Just tell me, Latrice. What? Is the tour cancelled? Do they hate the new video? Do we need to do reshoots? What?”

“No, all that’s fine. They just...they’re a little uncomfortable about your interactions with this Vixen person.”

“Why?” Courtney sat up, ready to get extremely annoyed, extremely fast.

“Well, it’s just...she’s apparently got some very radical ideas, and-”

“So? Maybe they’re amazing ideas? Have you read the book?” Courtney countered.

Latrice sighed.

“Courtney, listen. It’s just...not what they want while they’re trying to promote this last movie.”

“It’s a movie that ends with a gay interracial marriage!” Courtney exclaimed. “So why the fuck do they have a problem with me complimenting a Black political science professor on Twitter?! This is beyond idiotic, Latrice, you have to admit that! And by the way, I’m not gonna stop. She’s amazing and her book is important and more people should know about her, and if they want to fire me, then fine!” Courtney’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath.

There was a pause before Latrice spoke again.

“I assumed this would be your response.”

“Yeah, so. Now what?!”

“Now, I tell them that you feel very strongly about this, and that you’re not breaching any contract, and if they try to silence you on this issue, you’re prepared for a very public, very embarrassing fight,” Latrice said.

“Okay…” Courtney waited for the catch.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll drop it.”

“Just like that?” Courtney asked, confused. She’d gotten herself well and riled up, prepared for a real battle.

“Yeah, baby,” Latrice said. “Just like that. Chalk it up to white privilege.”

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at that, head falling back on the sofa cushions.

“Good one, ma’am.”

After they hung up, Courtney opened Instagram, delighted that Vixen had updated her story. It was just a casual picture, her and two other professors getting ready to speak at a round table discussion. Courtney smiled, replying to the picture with heart eyes and the question, ‘Is that top from my collection?’

She responded a little while later, while Courtney was on the elliptical, saying, ‘I was hoping you’d notice. ;)’

Courtney giggled to herself, wondering when she’d get to meet this amazing, glowingly beautiful woman. All she wanted was to finally talk, face to face. Maybe in the spring, when her tour hit Chicago? Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, couldn’t happen soon enough.

***

It may very well have been a love letter, Vixen thought, finding her cheeks blazing hot at the thought. She’d woken up to a video posted on Courtney’s Twitter feed. “How To Be a Race Ally.”

Vixen watched the whole video with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was great, actually. Humble and informative. Cleverly incorporating some of the points from her podcast (with proper credit given) and even some things she’d said over text recently (also with credit, and a wink straight into the camera that made Vixen feel things she wasn’t prepared for at 7:30 in the morning).

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Okay fine, you can come to the cookout.

As usual, Courtney's response was lightning fast, an emoji wearing a party hat and about 10 exclamation points. Vixen couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit more.

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact I don’t know how vegan-friendly it’ll be, though.  

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 1m Replying to @professorvixtaylor You really think I’m there for the food? ;P

Vixen rose from her bed, an almost giddy feeling filling her chest. She really needed to calm the fuck down. What was with this silly schoolgirl behavior? And on a public platform? Every interaction ran the risk of absolutely ruining the street cred she’d spent years building up. (Monet was already making it her personal mission to screenshot every exchange and then tease her mercilessly, and Asia had begun to join in.)

Besides, what were the odds that it would ever be anything but a short-lived flirtation? Courtney was bound to become captivated by something else soon. An animal rights group, perhaps. Or funding for the arts in public schools. There were a billion issues competing for her attention. How long would Vixen’s moment in the sun possibly last?

And yet, when Courtney tweeted that she was on her way to New York, Vixen found herself taking a shot of liquid courage and then sending a text.

VIXEN: Hey...how long are you gonna be in New York?

COURTNEY: A couple of weeks, why?

VIXEN: Well, I have a conference at Columbia on February 23, and then I’m gonna stay for a few days. Maybe we could meet up?

COURTNEY: YES

COURTNEY: I mean, sure. Sounds lovely. Tell me what day you’re free. <3

***

It was strange, seeing Courtney in person after all this time. As much as Vixen enjoyed chatting with her, and as validating as it was to get so much attention, she had reminded herself over and over again that this was all just friendly banter. A bit of lighthearted flirting, maybe, but the possibility of a genuine romantic connection was absolutely out of the question.

But then.

When Courtney first emerged from the elevators, smile bright, it was like time ceased to be linear. Nothing...not pictures, not video, not even that concert she’d attended all those years ago, prepared her for how heart-stoppingly beautiful she was in person.

Vixen stood, in slow motion, knees shaking a little, suddenly hugely aware of her height. Was Courtney always this little? Why had Vixen worn heels?

It must have taken Courtney less than 10 seconds to cross the lobby to where Vixen stood, but for some reason, it felt like 10 years. Excruciatingly slow, and yet somehow, Vixen was still caught off guard as she bounded up and grasped both of her hands.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Courtney exclaimed, that dazzling smile still on her face. “It’s amazing to finally be in the same room!”

“Yeah, it’s…” Vixen offered a smile of her own, swallowing hard. Her hands were warm and soft, and as Vixen gazed down at her, she could feel her heart racing faster than ever. “How was your day?”

“Crazy…” Courtney linked an arm through Vixen’s, leading her towards the hotel bar.

It took a concerningly short time for all the weirdness to dissipate, for Vixen to forget that she was across the table from a celebrity, a person she’d been following for years, a person that she’d idolized at one point in her life.

She was just a girl. Granted, she was a beautiful girl, but one who seemed incredibly excited, even honored, to be talking to Vixen—about her book, her podcast, her life. Where she came from and what she cared about and who she looked up to. A girl who wanted to get to know her.

After awhile, when Vixen was finally relaxed enough to really open up, she told Courtney about hearing ‘Kaleidoscope’ for the first time. How, at that point in her transition, it made all the difference in the world to see Courtney so open about the fluidity of gender and sexuality. To hear those magical words. ‘This is who we are.’

Courtney nodded along, listening to her, tears filling her eyes. She covered Vixen’s hand with her own, and said, “I needed it too.”

As the hours ticked by, they talked about everything. Passion, art, travel, identity. She wanted to know when Vixen began to question her own gender, how she knew that she wanted to transition. She was delighted by the story of her brief foray into drag during the early college years, the source of her now permanent nickname. In spite of all the questions (or maybe because of them), for once, Vixen felt like she wasn’t on the defensive. She found herself being more sincere and honest about all of it than she’d been in a long time.

“I’m not usually this open,” she admitted at one point.

Courtney laughed, eyes glittering, and said, “I’m usually too open.”

“I think you’re just right,” Vixen replied, giving her a generous smile.

They talked about their childhoods. How much she loved pretend and fantasy as a kid.

“I went through a phase—that’s generous, it was like 3 years—where I really wanted to be a dragon. I had this dumb...dragon hoodie, that I wore all the time. And when I finally grew out of it, I cried.”

“Aww,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I think I just really, really didn’t want to be me.”

Courtney took in a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower.

“I’m not gonna pretend that I really get it. Everything you’re talking about. I don’t know if I ever could. But...I get that part.”

Vixen raised an eyebrow.

“You? How do you get it?” Vixen let out a chuckle. “I’m not trying to judge you, but I just...look at you. You’re this perfect, sparkly princess. Everything the world wants a girl to be.”

“Yeah...I see what you’re saying. But...sometimes it feels like that’s all the world wants. Is the sparkly princess part. And I’m more than that. Or, I hope I am. But…” Courtney trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Do I sound really dumb?”

“You don’t sound dumb. You sound like a very intelligent, thoughtful...sparkly princess.”

Courtney threw back her head and laughed.

“I can’t believe you laughed at that,” Vixen said with a shake of her head. “It was such a cheap shot.”

“Well, I’m an easy laugh,” Courtney said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Yeah I’ve heard that about you,” Vixen couldn’t help saying, and Courtney’s giggles continued.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes burning in the dim light, with matching, goofy grins decorating their faces, until Vixen broke, shaking her head.

“This is so surreal…”

“How so?” Courtney asked, voice lilting in a way that felt almost like a tease, resting a chin on her hand.

Vixen hesitated. It felt so cliché to say that it was because Courtney was famous, or because she once cried at her concert when she was 23.

“I mean...you’re not even really my type,” she finally answered with a small shrug.

“Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Ummm...I normally go for curvy Latinas,” Vixen said, lashes fluttering.

Courtney’s eyes widened, smile deepening, as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, me too!”

They both started laughing again, clinking glasses for good measure.

“So, um...do you have to go back to Chicago tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I decided to stay a few more days,” Vixen replied. “See some shows, meet up with some friends. There’s this museum in Brooklyn that I’ve been dying to check out for years.”

“What museum?” Courtney asked.

“It’s, uh, called the Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts,” Vixen said. “Kind of a mouthful but-”

“Sounds great. I wish I could see it.”

“You wanna come? I’m going tomorrow after lunch.”

“Ugh, I wish!” Courtney said, stretching her neck. “But the press tour schedule is insane. I’m doing two more interviews tomorrow, and then I fly to LA to kick off the tour.”

“Tough breaks.” Vixen tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound sarcastic.

“Listen, I’m not complaining. I’m very lucky.” Courtney smiled, tilting her head. “But it would’ve been cool to see that museum.”

“Next time,” Vixen promised.

“I’m holding you to that,” Courtney said, gaze fixed on Vixen’s face as she downed the rest of her drink.

Vixen gave a small nod, finding her eyes hypnotic. Surreal indeed.

They ordered yet another round as hotel patrons trickled out, crowd thinning, closing time approaching. By the time they stood up to leave, they’d knocked back quite a few--more than Vixen realized at the time. She grabbed Courtney’s arm to steady her as the blonde swayed in her heels.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm…” Courtney gazed up at her, lashes fluttering.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“Okay…”

In the elevator, Courtney wrapped her arms around Vixen’s waist, leaning a head on her shoulder. Vixen’s heart hammered in her chest, one hand gripping the railing for support.

At the door, Courtney looked up at her, eyes bright, breathing out, “You know, we don’t have to be up until 10 tomorrow…”

“What are you…‘we?’”

It took Vixen a moment to catch on to her train of thought, a wave of nerves washing over her.

“Listen. Um. I think you’re great,” she began, wincing as she saw Courtney’s blissful expression crumble. “But...I just, I never hook up with girls who’ve been drinking. It’s just…”

Vixen didn’t want to explain the whole story. The girl in the lesbian bar, years ago, who danced with her all night, flirting and rubbing against her, inviting her back to her apartment. Only, when they began to undress, and it became clear that Vixen’s body was a little different, the girl flipped a switch. Went from a delightful buzz to drunken rage. Accused her of taking advantage, called her...Vixen didn’t even want to think about that. Or about how she’d left her apartment as fast as possible, terrified and choking back tears. How at home, she’d collapsed into Asia’s arms and sobbed most of the night, wondering if she’d ever fit in, anywhere.

Courtney wasn’t that girl in the bar—Vixen knew that. But she was clearly tipsy, and some things, some decisions, required a clear head.

“It’s not you,” she finished lamely. “You’re amazing.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing her disappointment like a champ and saying, “You’re amazing.”

Before she left, Vixen leaned in and brushed her lips against Courtney’s cheek.

She walked toward the elevator, regret stinging the back of her throat. She had no idea how long it would be before they saw each other again, and suddenly her arbitrary rules based on one shitty asshole in a bar 7 years ago seemed...absurd. She turned back around. Courtney was still leaning in her open doorway, watching her walk away.

“Hey, how drunk are you, actually? Can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” Vixen asked.

“No—” Courtney said, brow furrowed.

“Oh.” Vixen’s heart deflated a bit.

“—Because we don’t have the Pledge of Allegiance in Australia.”

“Right,” Vixen laughed.

“But what about, um, okay...so...here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't-”

Vixen strode forward and silenced her with a kiss, soft and sweet, almost chaste at first, both of them giggling. As the kiss deepened, Vixen grabbed Courtney around the waist and pushed her backward into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

Vixen was so enamoured that she barely registered Courtney’s massive hotel suite, the entry hall or huge living room that Courtney led her through on the way to the bedroom. Guiding her by her hips to the bed, Courtney pushed her into a seated position and stood between her legs, chasing her lips as she took hold of her collar, fingering the little pearl buttons down the front of her shirt dress.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Vixen nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Courtney’s heavy-lidded eyes as she quickly opened the buttons, skin prickling as she pushed it off Vixen’s shoulders. She kissed Vixen again, deep and messy, sucking on her bottom lip.

Panting, Vixen reached around, fumbling for Courtney’s zipper. Once she pulled it down a few inches, the cotton dress easily came off over her head, and then there she was, standing in front of Vixen in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties.

Vixen swallowed, eyes sweeping over Courtney’s body, dying to touch her but nervous as all fuck.

“Listen, um...I should tell you…”

Courtney paused mid-way through opening Vixen’s belt to look at her curiously, face earnest and alert. The perfect student.

Vixen sighed. The fact that Courtney was so willing to listen, so considerate, should have been a bonus. But in this moment, it just made her feel startlingly inadequate. She hated this. The feeling of not being enough, or being too much. She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she was about to make herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been, and she was terrified.

“So...Okay, um. I guess...it’s just been a long time since...I was with a girl.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney said, grinning.

“No. A really long time,” Vixen said.

“Okay. Does that mean you don’t want-”

“No!” Vixen burst out, a little too emphatically, and then lowered her eyes bashfully, adding in a calmer voice, “No, I want to be with you, I just...might be a little out of practice.” It was an understatement, a lie of omission that unsettled Vixen’s stomach a bit. But it was all she felt comfortable with revealing at the moment, and she hoped that she’d be forgiven later.

“Hmm…” Courtney took Vixen’s face in her hands, tilting her chin up. “I think I can work with that…”

She bent down to kiss her again, soft as a whisper, fingers stroking Vixen’s cheekbones, before pulling back and gazing down at her.

“God,” Courtney breathed, “You are so beautiful.”

Vixen took in a shaky breath, her hands finally lifting to slide around Courtney’s hips. Something about the way Courtney looked at her was different than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d been the object of lust before, and sometimes very much enjoyed it. But this was more than that. She felt more than sexy, more even than beautiful. She felt seen.

But for once, rather than get all wrapped up in anxiety about what it meant, Vixen acted on instinct. She gripped Courtney's waist and pulled her forward, flinging her onto her back on bed. Courtney squealed delightedly, pulling her along.

Courtney smiled up at her, reaching a hand out but then pausing, letting her fingers rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“Am I allowed to touch your hair? ‘Cause I’ve heard...”

Vixen couldn’t help laughing as she nodded and said, “That rule doesn’t really apply here.”

“Okay,” Courtney giggled, fingering her twists gently.

Vixen turned her head, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s wrist, then slowly moving up her arm, and finally nuzzling into her shoulder. Her skin smelled fresh and almost sweet, like she’d recently been in a doughnut shop. It wasn’t sugary like some kind of food-based perfume or soap, just a gentle, vague deliciousness that Vixen became addicted to immediately, burying her face into her neck to inhale deeply.

She found a soft, tender spot, just below Courtney’s ear, that made her sigh when kissed, and began to suck. Courtney inhaled sharply, hips thrusting up against Vixen’s, hands tightening in her hair.

“You like that?” Vixen asked, emboldened, hands sliding up from her waist to scratch gently at her ribcage.

“Uh huh,” Courtney breathed, arching up again as Vixen kissed her, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. A whimper fell from her lips.

Vixen’s dress was half off at this point, pushed down around her waist, and when Courtney’s fingers began to trail lightly up and down her back, she shivered. Courtney pushed the dress further down, wriggling it over Vixen’s hips to her thighs, and Vixen pulled it off the rest of the way.

She was expecting to feel uncomfortably exposed, both of them now just in their panties—a situation she hadn’t found herself in with a woman is a very fucking long time. Especially a woman she liked this much. But instead of feeling awkward, she found her pulse racing with excitement, nearly breathless in anticipation of what might come next.

She realized that she’d been frozen for a few moments when Courtney raised herself up on her elbows and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vixen nodded, and Courtney sat up further, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“You want to take a break? Slow things down?”

“No,” Vixen said simply, slipping her fingers under the sides of Courtney’s panties. Her hips lifted, allowed Vixen to slide them off easily, heart in her throat when she saw how glistening wet she was already. She knew that she was potentially in over her head, but there was also a strong urge to keep going, pulse racing with desire.

“Come here.” Courtney stretched out her arm, pulling Vixen in for a kiss, tongues tangling together. She rolled Vixen over, onto her back, grinding down against her.

As much as Vixen wanted to please her, ceding control to Courtney felt liberating. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Courtney lavished her with affection, layering kisses against her skin. When a warm tongue swirled over her nipple, her hips jerked up, a stifled moan escaping from her throat.

Courtney sucked harder on her nipple, hands sliding down her torso, lips following as they trailed over Vixen’s tense abdomen. She hooked her fingers into the sides of Vixen’s panties and then looked up questioningly.

“Can I...?”

“Go ahead,” Vixen replied, straining to raise her hips, finding her core muscles in a weakened state, skin so flushed and hot that for a moment, she barely remembered to be self-conscious. Until Courtney began to slide her panties down, and suddenly she remembered exactly what she’d been dreading. When the reality of who she was would confront Courtney, more than theoretical, more than an idea.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched Courtney’s face. If she had any qualms about a girl with a dick, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply continued to suck soft kisses into her skin, warm hands resting on her thighs.

Vixen finally relaxed backwards, eyes falling shut. She let go of all her worries, all her stupid insecurities. At least for now. At least while Courtney took her dick into her mouth, tongue flicking delicately at her. Vixen’s hips thrust upwards, hands gripping the comforter tightly, moans dripping from her lips like honey.

It had been so achingly long since anyone had touched her this way. Maybe no one ever had, she realized as she arched into the soft caresses. She’s certainly never experienced this kind of loving attention from a woman, a woman treating her like she was precious and beautiful, turning her into a gasping, quivering mess. Vixen felt herself falling apart quickly, losing control, nearly gone before she had the wherewithal to choke out a pained warning.

“I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Mmhmmm…” Courtney made no move to stop, swirling her tongue again, then taking her deeper, sucking harder.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen moaned, hips pumping uncontrollably as she came, gasping for air.

The way Courtney’s hands stroked her thighs, continued to suck softly as she melted backwards into the pillows, every muscle in her body going slack--the small part of her that was still conscious shivered with delight, thrilled with the feeling of being spoiled.

It wasn’t until her body was completely still, bones feeling like jelly, when Courtney began to work her way up her body once again, hands sliding over her skin until she came nose to nose with her once again.

Courtney smiled, kissing her cheeks, down along her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Lips rousing her from a state of sheer exhaustion into warm, sleepy affection. Her hands circled Courtney's waist.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Courtney murmured.

“Uh huh.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she pressed more kisses against her.

Vixen sighed contentedly, pulling her in close, not caring how clingy and pathetic she might seem, just wanting the warmth of Courtney’s body against her own. Courtney snuggled into her arms, slipping to the side of her, legs still tangled together.

After a few slow, lazy kisses, Vixen started to sense a shift. Courtney’s breath grew hot and ragged, hips rutting against her. She cautiously moved a hand down, working it in between her thighs, fingers seeking out her wet heat.

“Show me what you want,” she urged, desire to give Courtney pleasure finally outweighing her fear of looking like an amateur.

Courtney lifted her head, giving her a sleepy grin and reaching down to guide her. She patiently showed Vixen exactly where to touch her, what to do to tease her, when to speed up and circle her clit, how deep for her fingers to go and exactly how to curl them to make her tremble. Vixen followed her breathless instructions, guided by Courtney’s own hand, thrilled at the way her body responded.

Soon, Courtney’s eyes were rolled back, muscles straining, tits brushing against Vixen’s chest as she thrusted against her fingers, fucking down into them, breathy moans music to Vixen’s ears. Her hips moved faster and faster until she stopped, whimpering, just barely grinding against the heel of Vixen’s hand, lips pressed to her neck.

Vixen had never made a girl come before, and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined, from the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks to the slick sheen of sweat on her forehead, to her ass flexing, muscles still twitching against Vixen’s fingers. And the best part, the way she looked up at Vixen at the end, eyes locked with hers as the waves of pleasure radiated through her body, fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Fuck,” Courtney sighed, collapsing against Vixen’s body, trapping her hand for a few moments before realizing it and letting her wriggle free with a sleepy laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vixen said, tilting her chin up for a kiss. Her whole body had suddenly become soft and pliant, and all Vixen wanted was to wrap her into an embrace. She wasn’t expecting it to feel this intimate. A part of her had even worried that this whole affair would be wrapped up in a one-night stand. But as Courtney cuddled against her, heart still hammering, she felt closer to her than ever. “I should probably tell you…”

“Mmm?”

“What I said earlier, about not being with a girl in a long time?” Vixen swallowed. “I uh...I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school. And I guess I’ve come close since then, but never really went through with it...as me. The real me.”

Courtney lifted her head, fingers trailing down Vixen’s arm, a smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly.

Vixen nodded, not sure what more there was to add, when a clap of thunder outside scared the living shit out of her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. So much for a warm and fuzzy moment.

Courtney laughed, pulling up the covers and cocooning them both, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she said, snuggling tight against Vixen’s body.

“You better,” Vixen replied.

[pantsusnifferr]

I’m gonna be hella honest here, 2020 wasn’t the drastic life changing year i had hoped it’ll be.

Now its a tradition, well maybe, not really. Who knows...

Let’s start with the goals which ive accomplished in 2020 yeah?

Have less regrets Live more, experience more, get out of the comfort zone Be hardworking, be brave Work hard for the company Rekindle ties to the ones important to me Start working on my YouTube channel for company Study hard Be more confident, be more social Be a nicer and kinder person

Yes i definitely have had lesser regrets overall, i learnt that listening to that gnawing feeling in my gut is one of the few things that will lead me to get less regrets. Perhaps that’s an indication of something that you really want on the inside. Many times this year i just took a leap of faith and made decisions on the fly, going out of my way many times just to do the things i wanted to do. The me a year ago would never have done any of these things, let alone spend any money or time into such ‘frivolous’ activities.

Lets go through some of the highlights for my accomplished goals.

1. Bought Airshow tickets on impulse and rented camera lenses just because i had a shot i wanna get. 

Ended up getting that money shot and feeling pretty accomplished. It was nice to meet up and connect with fellow aviation enthusiasts and friends from my Air Force days, but i still felt like i didn’t fit in. Oh well, i didn’t regret anything. I set my mind to a thing i thought would be fun and challenging and i did it!

2. Trespassing into the green corridor for an assignment during the circuit breaker 

haha...Definitely isn’t worth the trouble in the end due to shitty unusable footage and total lack of input when it comes to the editing process. BUT STILL, the feeling of walking through thick jungle and jumping over construction barricades and barriers in the middle fo some goddamn forest just to get some footage is an experience nonetheless! Shitty teammates, good thing we managed to pull through and made some friends along the way. Wasn’t worth it, but i didn’t regret the experience one bit.

3. Got into more active activities with an open mind. 

Went to the gym with friends a lot more and tried to lead a healthier lifestyle, cycling, hema classes (more about that in a bit) The me from a couple of years ago would definately never give this idea a shot. Running at least once a week, keeping track of my health, all these made me feel a lot better. I should really get into it more though.

4. Hema classes
. 

Never thought swinging swords around can be that much fun! And i almost didn’t want to show up because i had a sudden surge of social anxiety in the morning before. Glad i powered through that to get to that class that october aternoon. I was mostly on autopilot, depressed and wanting more...but for the last few months of the year, hema classes gave me something to look forward to, and this really changed up my entire outlook then. I suppose having a newfound hobby you never knew you liked changes people for the better.

5. Going out of my way many many times just to help out a friend. Or just to hang out. 

I remember being too lazy to go out and have fun. Too lazy to wanna get up to get something done even with friends. Installing internet access points, cleaning up rooms, setting up laptops etc. Perhaps its the large amount of FOMO i’ve started to develop, or maybe its just me sick of being a sad loney wreck. Who knows, all i know is its a blessing to have friends and i am so glad that they’re willing to give me their time of the day as well.

6. Making videos for work. 

I didn’t HAVE to do this. Autopilot at work is a scary thing, its my own company and i could’ve done so much more... but i didn’t... or rather i couldn’t. I don’t remember what came over me and how i manage to find the willpower to shoot the videos then edit them over a few days. And i have no idea how i managed to actually follow through with it and get the damn thing edited. Not my proudest work, but damn am i proud of myself for actually doing the thing!

7. Keeping at it for school and not giving up.

Statistics, the killer module. Logistics, another killer one. I studied so so hard for it, i thought i was going to fuck it up like how i fucked up my assignments. But I am so so so glad that it paid off. Taking days of work to study is the correct move and i am so glad i had the discilpine to stick with it. Haha discilpline i said, more like letting the panic set in untill i find myself studying as if my life depended on it. But still, an A and a B+ feels really great though. My first A, that’s still something to celebrate for! Thanks for helping, you know who you are!

8. Giving more of a shit for my company

Im a little undecided about whether i should put this under the part about having no regrets. I am happy with the money and growth we’ve got in our company, alongside the many happy customers ive got, I still somehow felt that i have struggled so much and had a lot more anxiety and stress as compared to the previous years. Perhaps i just need to chill. Although i don’t doubt the fact that taking more responsibility does indeed make things less mundane. Appreciate the increase in pay and bonuses though.

9. Spent quality time with family

I used to have this feeling whenever i am around my cousins, these are the people whom i’ve grown up wit,h and who i used to consider really close friends. I just felt that over the years we have just became different people altogether. They’re normies with normal hobbies, living their lives normally and successfully while im just a weird outsider.

Im somewhat glad that we managed to find some common ground in gaming and our talking sessions. Attending their wedding is a weird feeling but im still somewhat glad that a part of them is still the same on the inside. We might not be as close anymore but im still happy that they treasured the times and memories we had just the same as i did. Lets hope i’ll not fuck it up and i’ll need another chance to rekindle this relationship. Still, them being more successful in life and work still gives me this crazy inferioty complex around them.

Talking with my mom has given me a lot of peace of mind. I am so glad that I have a responsible parent and business partner who shares the same values as i do. Makes things a lot less stressful to know that she’s got my back.

10. Became more social

Yep, went out of my comfort zone many times to talk to people and help out when i could! Its always good to do the kind thing and reach out, when i’d just brush it off as someone else’s problem previously. I am really proud of myself for this.

Now for the goals ive failed. Start work on my personal YouTube channel Join the weeb club to find more gamer weeb friends Learn weeb speak Be healthy Learn 2 songs on bass guitar or ukulele Draw at least once a month (I did but they’re not completed art)

Oof, i don’t know perhaps its the lack of time or the lack of effort. Maybe i’ve been putting in so much effort into the other things i don’t have the mental energy to process these. Perhaps i don’t want it bad enough...

Art and drawing in particular has been really bad. I want to be good at drawing so badly but i really just can’t be arsed to practice. Music too.

I think i am definately healtheir than before but i am nowhere near where i should be. Gotta step up!

Now here’s what i wanna do for the next year

Keep healthy, Lose weight! Be even more social! Start work on personal youtube channel Learn ONE SONG on any instrument Draw at least twice in the next year! Live even more, experience more, get out of the comfort zone more! Be hardworking, be brave

[azozzoni]

Apparently I lost the ask this prompt came from. Idk what Tumblr did. Luckily, I write everything down (and I’m sorry for taking like 8 months to write this).

Anon: Filo’s thoughts after the cafeteria scene, when he realizes he finds Elia really attractive and tries to find out if this boy is really that straight/ to get to know him better

*

It was Eleonora’s fault, Filippo decided, that he couldn’t stop wondering about Elia after he’d shown up that day at lunch. He may not have remembered him before, but he certainly did now.

“So,” he said, leaning in Eleonora’s doorway and she didn’t look up from her laptop. “How’s the plan going?”

“Plan?” she repeated, skeptical.

“To set up Elia with my Silvia?” He said it as casually as he could—Eleonora could be annoyingly perceptive and he didn’t want to raise any suspicions about why he cared about how things were going with a couple of high schoolers. He shouldn’t have cared. He should have been above it all.

Eleonora sighed, looking up from her laptop finally. “It’s not. We can’t seem to get them alone together.”

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” Filippo said with a shrug. “What do we know about this Elia anyway?”

Eleonora paused, seemingly thinking. Filippo was a little too eager to hear the reply if he was honest with himself.

“Marti seems to see something more in him,” she said at length, “but he’s mostly just immature and loud and impulsive.”

It didn’t sound too bad to Filippo, who was also all of those things.

“So why do you think he and Silvia would even be a good fit?”

“I just want her to get over Edoardo,” Eleonora admitted after a minute, glancing up at him. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I am just trying to make sure he’s good enough for my Silvia,” Filippo assured her, not bothering to mention that he hadn’t been lying when he said Elia was hot. He may or may not have checked out his ass the other day as he’d left too. “May I remind you, you’re the one who told me to talk up this guy I have barely met to my sweet Silvia.”

Rolling her eyes, Eleonora turned back to her laptop. “If you want to know about Elia, you should ask Martino. Maybe a different point of view would help get them together.”

Filippo merely hummed in reply, but he wasn’t thinking of getting Elia together with Silvia, not right now as he pulled up his phone and texted Martino as he turned from the bedroom.

*

“I’m pretty good at this,” Martino said as he held the battery for Filippo, and Filippo laughed.

“At being a film lackey?”

Martino nodded. “I should consider making this my career.”

“I wouldn’t mind having your pretty face following me around all day, carrying my gear, telling me how wonderful all my shots are,” Filippo said, taking the battery from Martino’s hand and replacing the one in his camera. He’d found this particular spot a few weeks ago, overgrown and covered with colorful graffiti, what looked like ruins on the far side, underneath a roadway. He glanced back at Martino, who had his hands on his hips, gazing around the brush-strewn path. “How are things with Nico?”

“Good.” Martino couldn’t stop his smile as he said it, and Filippo was happy for him, for both of them.

“And this plot to match up Elia and Silvia,” he said slowly, keeping an eye on Martino, but Martino didn’t react except to frown. “Any progress?”

“Elia keeps saying he doesn’t want anything serious, and even though Nico and Gio keep trying to say it doesn’t have to be serious, he doesn’t seem interested.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Filippo said carefully. “Have we considered he might be gay?”

Martino laughed, too long, as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “Are you kidding?” he asked finally, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Elia? Gay? He always talks about girls.”

“But not Silvia,” Filippo pointed out, a little annoyed that even the idea of Elia being into guys was laughable. Maybe he had it all wrong—after all, he’d done the ‘falling for a straight guy’ too many times before. “Bisexual people do exist.”

“I know,” Martino said, pausing. “I asked Nico about it once, how he could tell that he wasn��t only into guys or girls, how he… decided, I guess.”

Filippo watched him. “What did he say?”

Martino shrugged. “He said he didn’t choose, that he just knew that he liked me, not because I was a guy but because, well…” He blushed and didn’t go on. Filippo didn’t push him, setting his hand on Martino’s shoulder.

“I’m just saying, there’s got to be a reason Elia isn’t interested in Silvia. Has he hooked up with anyone else this year?”

“Not that I know of,” Martino admitted. “Actually, he hasn’t really even talked about anyone since Gio got together with Sophia. Maybe he’s not over Sophia. I didn’t think he was that into her.”

From the little Filippo had heard from Martino and others, it didn’t seem likely, but Filippo didn’t know well enough to comment.

“Maybe he just needs the right person to come along,” Filippo suggested, focusing his camera on a wall in the distance.

“Well, it’s not going to be Silvia,” Martino muttered, rolling his eyes. “But Luchino is half in love already, so maybe there’s still a shot.”

“I could talk to Elia, if you wanted,” Filippo offered, ignoring the way Martino’s head shot to him, eyebrows up. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know as well. You did, after all.”

Martino seemed to consider the offer for a minute. In the end, he shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Nico wants so badly to be a matchmaker.”

Smiling, Filippo shook his head. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

He was glad when Martino didn’t ask why he was offering because he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He didn’t even have an answer to satisfy himself, but he didn’t stop Martino from texting Elia and suggesting they meet up later.

*

Martino conveniently received a text from his mom, telling him to come home, about five minutes after they met up with Elia at the bar, excusing himself and tossing a glance Filippo’s way before he left. Martino was smoother than Filippo had thought, turning to smile at Elia, who seemed a little confused at the whole situation.

Elia was cuter than he remembered, shrugging off his jacket and shoving the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows as their coffees were delivered.

“You were out with Marti?” he asked, but Filippo had no desire to talk about Martino.

“Photoshoot,” he said dismissively, setting his elbows on the table as Elia sipped his cappuccino. “He said something interesting, though, about you and Silvia.”

Elia immediately rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “Jesus. I don’t know what is wrong with them. I don’t know how many times I have to say I don’t want to date her before they’ll drop it.”

“Maybe if you gave them a reason,” Filippo suggested, and Elia frowned.

“I have. Plenty. She’s squeaky and annoying and obsessed with that damn radio, plus she’s not that hot.”

“I think she’s pretty,” Filippo said, but Elia made a face.

“Well, you’re gay. You can say that.”

“And you can’t?”

“Not without someone taking it to mean I’d be willing to fuck her,” Elia replied, shoving a hand through his hair as he sighed. Filippo got the feeling he was tired of trying to explain himself.

“Okay,” Filippo said easily, smiling at Elia. “You don’t want to date Silvia. Is there anyone you are interested in?”

For a second, Elia didn’t reply, frowning at his cup. When he didn’t reply right away, Filippo sat back.

“I dated a girl once,” Filippo said, and Elia looked up, eyebrows furrowed, as though he couldn’t fathom the idea. “In middle school, so maybe it wasn’t technically dating, but we called it that. It didn’t last long, a few weeks maybe of eating lunch together, sloppy kisses that I can never forget.” He made a face. “But after we broke up, my friends kept asking who I was going to go after next, which girl I liked. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know really, not until I saw Andreas Rossi changing in gym class. It was like a brick to the head.”

Elia was frowning still. “You think I’m gay?”

“No,” Filippo said easily. He wouldn’t dare to presume anyone’s sexuality. “But if you’re confused, sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

“I’m not confused,” Elia said quickly, glancing up at Filippo. “I like girls.” He paused, swallowing. “And maybe I’ve thought about guys.”

It was a start. He remembered how reluctant Martino had been to even admit that he liked a guy.

Filippo smiled at Elia. “It’s not a crime.”

“My parents might disagree,” Elia muttered, but he didn’t elaborate, meeting Filippo’s questioning gaze. “I’m not keeping it from the guys. It’s just, there’s no reason to tell them. It’s not like I’m hooking up with someone.”

“So if you never find a guy, you’re just not going to tell them?” This was so far from the conversation Filippo had hoped they might have when he’d sat down across from Elia. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, that maybe Elia would reveal some secret crush on him.

Elia shrugged in response, pushing the cup around its plate.

“We could always go out,” Filippo suggested, and he realized what it sounded like when Elia’s eyes lifted to his again. “I mean, I could take you out, to a club or something where you could have no pressure. Nobody you know, no one you’ll have to talk to again, no strings.”

Some people would have hated that idea. He knew Martino would have balked at the idea had he suggested something similar last year, but Elia wasn’t Martino. Elia was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and consideration.

“And you’d come with me?” Elia asked after a minute, and Filippo smiled.

“Of course. I’d never let you go into the lion’s den unprotected. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Elia contemplated the question for a minute before he smiled, the first smile Filippo had gotten out of him so far.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We could do that.”

Not exactly what Filippo had been planning for when he’d sat down, but he’d take it. It was much more important to help Elia than to listen to his own hormones. And if he caught Elia gazing at him later, looking away quickly, he didn’t mention it. There’d be plenty of time to figure that out later.

[omyeol]

chances - 01 | kjm

word count: 2,900+ words

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst tho

<< story masterlist >> | << writing masterlist >>

may 2020

Sundays were days reserved for relaxing; a day where Minhyo didn’t have to worry about the possibility of getting up late. Sundays were days reserved for relaxing; a day where Minhyo didn’t have to worry about the possibility of missing a deadline for some coursework. Sundays were also days where she didn’t have to be awakened by the sounds of children yelling and crying from the kindergarten in the neighborhood. Sundays were blessing that Minhyo held really dear to her heart because it’s a day where she wasn’t tied to a schedule or anything.

But on a particular Sunday in May, she didn’t feel relaxed at all. She might have even woken up two hours later than she usually was, and she even spent extra twenty minutes rolling around her bed and scrolling through her Instagram feeds, but that didn’t help the anxiety she had felt since the beginning of the week.

This Sunday was also the day where her father would be coming to visit her for the first time since she left Seoul three years ago. All the video calls made throughout the year was not enough to quench the longing feeling she felt, but this time, everything was going to be worth it. All the pain she felt and the tears she shed would be worth it.

Well, at least, that’s what the poetic side of her brain told her as she sat in the car, trying not to lose her mind because of the traffic. It seemed like the fact that she left her apartment earlier to go to the restaurant didn’t even matter because she still managed to meet all the red traffic lights.

“You haven’t said anything since we left your place. Are you okay?” Letting out a sigh, Minhyo glanced at her right where her dear friend sat on the passenger seat with her phone clutched in her right hand and a cold cup of coffee on another.

“I’m not. I feel like we’re going to be late.” Once the light turned green and the cars in front of them started to move, Minhyo let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God, finally.”

“I think she’s about to go crazy.” Minhyo furrowed her eyebrows and glanced at her right, seeing Bomi smiling and talking to her phone. “I’m also pretty sure that she doesn’t even realize that I’ve been doing this for ten minutes now.”

“Are you doing Instagram live?” Minhyo asked with her eyes still on the road and Bomi only hummed as an answer. Her stomach churned at the answer; she could even feel her palms starting to sweat.

“Yeah, you’ve been so preoccupied with your head and the traffic to notice it.” Minhyo sometimes forgot how impulsive Bomi could be when it came to using her social media accounts. She remembered a few times where her close friend got in a bit of trouble because she posted something ambiguous; like that one time in 2016 where Bomi posted a photo of Minhyo sitting in front of TV and eating a tub of ice cream with caption ‘my soulmate’ with a few heart emoji after the caption. So many people were speculating if the two of them were dating, when in fact they weren’t. It made it to the online news portal and people were talking about it.

(It affected the relationship Minhyo had with a certain someone after that, but she didn’t want to think about that).

“Want to say something?” Bomi’s airy voice pulled her back into the present, deep down Minhyo was hating it how her best friend could put her in the spot like that.

Clearing her throat and flexing her hand on the steering wheel, Minhyo opened her mouth and finally spoke. “Uhh, hello. I don’t know if you can see me clearly, but well, it’s been too long. I hope everyone has a nice day.” She didn’t even forget to crack a small smile that actually looked nothing like a smile at all. It was so forced that she wondered if she turned out like she had been holding a stomachache or something.

Whatever, she thought to herself as she continued to focus on the road and tuned out whatever Bomi was doing next to her. After all, it was easier for her to tune it out. Although it painfully reminded her of her own Instagram that she didn’t open unless she really wanted to post a picture. She felt a little guilty, too, remembering how she disabled her Instagram posts’ comment section ever since she left. It was for the best, though, her little heart defended herself.

She didn’t know how long Bomi had been doing Instagram live, but when they almost arrived at the restaurant where they would be meeting her father, Bomi wasn’t talking up a storm to her phone anymore.

“So, when are you going to turn on the comment section on your Instagram again?” Bomi was known to be blunt, but Minhyo didn’t think that her friend would ask such questions this early. She had gotten so comfortable to not see anything under her posts and truth to be told, she didn’t even have it in mind to turn it on anytime soon.

“I don’t know,” she opted to answer truthfully, knowing that the petite friend would be asking her questions anyway.

“You should turn it on the next time you post something.” Minhyo just hummed, not wanting to respond anything again. It was better to focus on parking the rented car because she was sane enough to decide to not buy a car in New York City. The only car she had was in Seoul and it was being used by her little sister on an almost daily basis. “People miss you a lot, you know.”

That wasn’t the first time Bomi told her that. She wasn’t even the first person. Sehun, who used the app frequently to interact with his followers, told her the same things a couple of times too. She was tired of being told that and sometimes on a bad day, she thought that even her closest friends didn’t understand her; they didn’t get how toxic the internet had been for her before and how it was the one thing that gave her the final push to leave.

“Let’s just go, okay?” Minhyo breathed, glancing at her friend briefly. It wasn’t the best time to explain it all to her.

Bomi only sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t get any more than that.

        K-Forum: Kim Minhyo is finally seen during Ahn Bomi’s Insta live!

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It has been a while since the last time we saw Kim Minhyo! The last time we saw her is three years ago at the airport, right? Right when she’s about to leave the country...

I’m so sad when the news of her taking a break from the entertainment industry came out, but now I can see that it’s for the better. Wish I can see her in a drama/movie soon, though.

                                                     [post response]                                                        [+1,556;-412]

[+1,231;-432] She looks healthier, though! I remember when she used to be so skinny, it was borderline unhealthy. Glad that the break and the school are doing great on her.

[+947;-209] I miss her so much… I want to see her in movies and drama again... She is such a talented actress.

[+743;-111] Not only talented as an actress, but she’s also smart and beautiful… Did she save a nation in her past life or what?

[+460;-156] What happened between her and Kim Junmyeon, though? We never got a clarification whether they broke up or not. We only got that cryptic post and sudden news of Junmyeon enlisting.

[+284;-531] She should’ve just stayed unseen though. Stay in America and don’t even go back here.

Silver and purple.

Everywhere Minhyo turned, the only thing she could see was silver and purple. It’s on the flags, and their graduation gowns and caps. It was everywhere. She had seen those colors for the past two years, and she thought she’s done with it. No matter how many times she thought she’s going to miss campus life, she actually wouldn’t. She definitely wouldn’t miss stressing out over her classes and grades.

“Oh, my daughter, look at you!” Minhyo let out an embarrassed laugh at her father’s reaction when he approached her, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” She could only flash her a grateful smile and open her arms, accepting his hug.

“Thank you so much, Pa.” She shut her eyes and squeezed her father. “It really means a lot that you came here.” They both pulled back from the hug and Minhyo accepted the flowers her dad gave to her.

“Do you really think I would miss such an important day?” Her father chided, shaking his head faintly when Mihyo just flashed him a sheepish smile. “Where’s Bomi, by the way? I thought she said she’s also coming.”

“She told me she’s close. I’m pretty sure she’ll be here at any moment.” While waiting for Bomi to join them, Minhyo pulled out her phone and took a few selfies with her father. She even recorded a short video too, for it to be posted on her Instagram later. It didn’t hurt to show her face once, she thought. It was her day, after all.

When Bomi finally came, Minhyo couldn’t believe her eyes. As she walked, she also had what seemed like more than six balloons in her hand and her phone on her free hand. Still unable to comprehend the whole thing, Minhyo let out a laugh and shook her head in disbelief, although the beaming smile on her face was still prominent.

“What the hell are you doing?” She asked, her eyes widening as her best friend finally approached her. “What is this?”

“Just some property for your picture.”

Minhyo ended up asking one of her classmates to take a picture of her and her father. In the end, her father even volunteered to take countless pictures of his daughter and the best friend. Those pictures needed to be sorted thoroughly later, but Minhyo wouldn’t mind the process. She could do it later when she laid down in her trusty bed after everything was done.

From that, everything felt like a blur of multicolor in her eyes.

There was a lunch at her favorite restaurant with her favorite foods and people and that was including Sehun who suddenly showed up in the middle of the lunch with a handful of balloons and a paper bag full of other goodies from the others. Minhyo couldn’t resist her tears anymore the minute she opened one of the presents, which was a scrapbook full of pictures of her alone and together with the others too and encouraging notes from the others. Her heart clenched at the fact that even though she kind of dropped her life in Seoul and moved to New York, they were still thinking of her and went out of their way to make such a meaningful gift for her.

“I’m recording this and sending this to all the hyungs.” She didn’t even have any energy to wrestle the phone out of Sehun’s hands. She was too busy sniffling while looking through the book.

The moments she didn’t know were going to be captured in-camera were surprisingly there. That moment when she was caught off guard by something Kyungsoo said and sprayed the water she was drinking all over the table, when they were celebrating Chanyeol’s birthday (this was a few months before she moved away) at her old apartment, when they were on a trip together to Japan, and so many moments in their friendship that she always treasured in her heart.

Out of everything, one picture that caught her off guard the most was the one of her and Junmyeon sitting together on his couch. In that picture, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he was leaning his head on top of hers and it was such an oddly intimate moment that they went through together after she had one of her breakdowns before the others came to have dinner together. She didn’t know that someone (it was Sehun, she knew, since he knew the passcode to Junmyeon’s apartment) would capture it in the picture.

Something shifted in her heart as she kept her eyes on the picture. It was like she missed it. She missed sitting on that couch with Junmyeon and doing nothing but talking. She missed having his shoulders to lean on and his hands to hold onto whenever she felt like she needed a grip because life liked to catch her by surprise.

“Do you have something to say, noona?” Sehun’s voice pulled her back to the moment, where both of her friends and her father were looking at her expectantly. Heaving out a shaky breath, she flashed her family (and the camera phone pointing at her) a wide smile.

“Thank you so much for this,” she breathed out. “This… This is so precious. I don’t even know what else I’m going to say.” She ended up chuckling through her happy tears. Placing the book on the table in front of her, she rose from her seat to give two of her best friends a big hug. It was a bit awkward since Sehun had his phone in hand and it was pressed up against her side, but she didn’t mind it. What’s important was that she could give them the biggest hug she could ever have given someone.

“We’re glad that you like it, though,” Bomi spoke up as she pulled back from the hug. “A certain someone was fussing about it, telling us that we have to make it special.” Minhyo didn’t ask any further about that certain someone, but she could have easily guessed who it was. It could only mean one person only and just thinking about his name already stirred something in her stomach.

“Okay, enough of this sappy moment. Let’s eat.”

It was pretty much smooth sailing after that. Minhyo didn’t shed any more tears since the tears were changed into a round of laughter that she couldn’t help but let out when Sehun shared a few stories from home. Sehun’s stoic face and his weird-but-adorable way of telling a story never failed to lift her mood. Although it was nice to hear those stories, she couldn’t help but have this forlorn hope that she was back home to experience it herself.

She wished she was there to experience it all with them. Too bad things weren’t the same as it was back then, though. After what happened, it was unlikely for things to work the way it was.

“Make sure to read the letters too, okay?” Bomi reminded her when Minhyo was looking through all the goodies in the car on their way back to her apartment. Sehun had kindly offered to drive them all because he liked driving (no matter if it was in Seoul or NYC, even though the traffic was testing their patience).

“What’s in there? Is it tears inducing?” Minhyo asked with an easy smile across her face, holding the bulk of letters in her hands. Her thumbs absentmindedly caressed the front of the letters from Junmyeon, but she didn’t even notice (Bomi, however, did).

“It’s just sappy things. I heard Chanyeol shed a bit of tear when he wrote the letter.” Minhyo couldn’t help but let out a string of giggles. Of course, Chanyeol would do that, she mused to herself.

It turned out that Chanyeol wasn’t the only one who shed tears. She did end up shedding tears, too, when she read the letters on her bed later that evening. How could she not, when the letters were filled with beautiful, touching words that moved her heart? How could she not, when she could really feel how each letter was written with sincerity? How could she not, when what she felt after each letter was how much she missed everyone and the realization of how lonely it had been for her for the past few years?

She might be torn of what she wanted to do after this. But after reading those letters, looking around her room, and realizing how painful it was that there was nothing but her traces in that place, she knew. She knew that she couldn’t spend another year in that city. Maybe it was the right time to come home.

Hi, it’s me, Junmyeon.

It feels weird writing this letter, actually. We’ve already used to text and call each other, right? It’s really weird to write this. I don’t even know what I’m going to write...

But anyway, congratulations on getting that Master’s degree! I’m (always have been and will) so proud of you, especially for finishing this graduate school. I’ve heard from Bomi and the others that you’ve been so stressed out about it, but hey, you finally made it! Now that it’s done, you can finally relax. Maybe you should take a few days and fly to LA and enjoy the sunset before going back to Seoul. Well, that is if you plan to come back home… We miss you a lot here, but whatever you’re planning for after this, just know that I will always support you (and so will the kids)!

I don’t really know what to write anymore, but well, I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re healthy and eating well and getting enough sleep too. Don’t drink too much coffee, you know you can’t drink more than 2 cups a day or it will really mess up your sleeping schedule. And I also hope that you’re enjoying your time and still managing to have a little bit of fun amid your busy days.

Once again, congratulations, Minhyo!

Love you. Always.

[tyrantasaur]

g i l d e d ◇ s p i r i t s

It was well into the afternoon when Pritchard entered Wesley’s bedroom to begin his daily routine. It seemed to Wesley, awakened violently by the loud clacking of metal on metal as the valet tore open the curtains to let the sun stab Wesley right in his reddened eyes. It had been another extremely late night, and if he was honest he could not quite remember the latter part of it. He was pretty sure there was a certain sadistically gleeful bent to the silent valet’s smile this morning. 

“Do you know, I’m still quite half-under, man. Stop enjoying this.” He squinted at Pritchard, who was standing with the window just at his back. “Evil old goat,” Wesley grumbled to himself, cursing Pritchard under his breath. “Damnit man, hand me the potion.: He held his head as it felt like it was rattling about on his neck. Pritchard stood, not moving. “Please,” he ground out through gritted teeth, prompting his cold-hearted valet to hand him a small vial. He downed the shot of thin amber potion in one go, thankful that he didn’t have to live like the poor mortals who would have to just struggle through their day.

It took but a few moments before his head cleared, and he felt as though he’d been abed before 10 PM. He fluffed up his pillows and leaned back, awaiting the breakfast tray that Prichard placed over his lap. The sunlight falling on his face felt peaceful, now, and he directed his man to open the window and let in the cool breeze, the ambient sounds of the city, and the smell of smoke and freshly mown grass. It was a scent so particular to the city that it didn’t even phase him anymore. Luckily his own estate had enough greenery that it wasn’t filled with soot and smoke like other parts of the city. Just enough to remind one that they were in an oasis surrounded by metal and smoke. Some didn’t care much for it, but his life wasn’t half bad, and he lived for the hustle and bustle. Besides, it was really good for business.

After enjoying his bruncheon of toast, eggs, bacon, and coffee, Wesley was soon up and dressed for the rest of the day. It was not out of his regular routine for him to be up late, as the work of a supernatural investigator really was much more active at night. He was between cases at the moment, though that didn’t much matter to him.

He spent most of the afternoon and evening puttering around in his workshop; he had a project that he’d been working on for the better part of the past year, but he’d been having difficulty tracking down someone with the particular skills he needed to help him with the magical aspects. His powers were strong and his knowledge might be broad, but he wasn’t an expert in many fields. So far he’d been having trouble with anyone who was powerful or clever enough. Winnifred kept silent vigil, watching what he was working on and offering up rare bits of advice for new things to try. It was proving to be an extremely frustrating project, and finally he tossed down his tools with a shout, put everything into a box and shoved it onto the storage shelf, then swept out of the room. 

Winnifred trailed behind him, silent as ever, although she slammed the door behind him in empathetic commiseration. He wasn’t surprised by the small cold hand on his shoulder or the whisper as she faded off to wherever her ghostly sensibilities drew her. 

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

“Laurie!” Wesley stood, taking three long strides to meet his friend who had been led into the drawing room by Pritchard, who bowed himself off.

“Wes, old man, thank you for that vile potion you sent over yesterday. It always does wonders; what a blow, eh? Ah....Winnie,” he grinned unabashedly as though he hadn’t just spoken roughly in front of the young woman. “Forgive me, old gel?”

She graciously held out her hand, draped on the chaise longue in the same outfit she always wore, her hair always perfectly coiffed. Lawrence stepped forward and held his hand just under hers, going through the motions of kissing the ethereal hand. She smiled, her lips parting in a silent laugh at his dramatic expression of apology.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that absolute mess we saw at the Montgomerys the other night,” Wesley stood by the writing desk at the window, fiddling with some papers. He picked them up but stared off into nothing and set them back down again. He was frowning out the window, his thoughts on what had occurred. 

“I’ve had a case I think is likely related to that fracas with the maidservant. Looks like a satyr getting a little too bold.” He drew a sharp breath. “I think I may need to find that woman and see if she knows anything. I’d like to know why it was drawn to that house in particular. It doesn’t seem to be targeting the wealthy manors,” he chewed absently on his lower lip. “What do you think?”

Lawrence sat down opposite Winnifred, and lit himself a cigarette, arm thrown over the back of the sofa. He leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling, watching the smoke blown out through his nose. “I think I was altogether a little too zozzed to really remember if I noticed anything in particular. I mean, Frakes was there and you know he’s a bit of the gift, so does that deb and her daddy, you know, the ah…” he glanced over at Winnifred. “Er, Jack and his girl Millie.”

“Well,” Wesley let the papers drop back down onto the desk. He walked over to the gilded cart filled with crystal decanters of various shapes filled with different colored liquids. Pouring out a glass for himself and Laurie, he dropped down onto the cushion beside his friend, and took up the same pose, staring at the ceiling.

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

Was it guilt or simply being thorough? Wesley wasn’t sure why he kept getting a nagging feeling that he should be tracking down the maid who had encountered the work of the satyr. It was not often that he felt any sort of overwhelming need to play the knight in shining armour, and he was fairly certain that wasn’t about to start now. Currently sitting in the parlor with Vivan Montgomery, he sipped at the tea she’d poured. 

The reason he’d dropped in was not, as Vivian clearly believed, because of her irresistible charms and their important place in society; he was hoping to begin tracking the satyr from this spot. The traces were all muddied; there’d clearly been a few people or beings in the area with at least a touch of magic about them, and their paths overlapped. After a time the trace dissipated much like a smell, becoming more vague and foggy as time wore on. He could’ve cursed himself for waiting as many days as he had, but as he made his excuses and took his leave, he stood for a moment in pretense of fixing his tie. 

Focusing on a magical trace was as innate a skill as sensing a taste or scent, but it was often harder to place, or to match up with what caused it. It was more of a concept, a feeling or emotion or a memory of a little slice in time and place that served as the magical signature. Different people sensed magic in different ways, but every persons’ trace was unique. He could tell his own trace from the rest, of course; and Laurie’s, though the man didn’t have an ounce of magical skill in him he was still a Sensitive and quite knowledgeable about the theory and history of magics.

There were at least three other distinct traces. Sorting out which pieces belonged to which trace were the trickier part, but you could piece them together like a puzzle as they just fit the scene they evoked. There was the feeling of lying in the tall grass, dappled sunlight warming your skin, the taste of honeyed wine on your lips; it had melted into the feeling of a familiar old chair and the particular scent of lignin, and the particular cozy feeling one gets when a rainy day lets you laze about without guilt; the scent of a crisp breeze, the childish satisfaction of milk and a plate of cookies, and the softly sad feeling of reliving a cherished memory. A summer’s day, reading in his library, and a stroll down memory lane. Out of the three of them, the summer’s day seemed the likeliest, given the satyr’s origins.

Walking along the sidewalk, he was glad for the bright sun, the light breeze, and the energy that a hearty breakfast had given him. He’d been up early today, unusually so for him, but he’d taken a potion the night before and had slept like the dead. Sometimes he wondered if mortals felt all the spirits that lived in his house; there certainly were a number. Those departed who could not yet move on, but who had become displaced when their homes were demolished, or the new occupants were a little too sensitive. Even in death people weren’t immune to homelessness. Sad, really. He wished there were more who studied the necromantic arts, but there was a certain distaste many had to speaking with the dead. It was hard work, and one of the more dangerous fields of magic. It took a lot of discipline, hard work, courage, and unfortunately a certain amount of empathy. It was not generally a lucrative line of work, given that most dead didn’t have any wealth lying about, but it was still important work. 

The trace that reminded him of autumn in his childhood kept coming up. He wondered if there was someone who had been at the party, or that lived nearby, who had caught the attention of the satyr. He pitied the person, as they were quite the nuisance, especially for women. Lusty capricious little beggars, they were not exceptionally violent but could turn aggressive. Magical creatures were not as they were often portrayed in stories; the Greeks had it most to right, some good some wicked and mostly a mix between the two. Temperamental and given to dramatic impulses, they could be difficult when cross and a hassle when they took a shine to you. 

The path took him more into the less posh parts of town, and he frowned at the small cluster of fairies following the milkman’s cart, but kept going. It looped through various neighborhoods until it hit a gentlemen’s club. Wesley had no compunctions about visiting the house of ill repute, but it had taken considerable work to calm down the inhabitants enough to get any information out of them. The madam had not known what to believe, but one of her girls had enough gifts to see the creature. It was getting bold, and it was about time to send it back to the plane to which it belonged.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, and he realized that the neighborhoods through which he had been tramping were filled with the second trace at various stages of strength. It was getting to be clearer as he drew closer to the department store. Intrigued, he wondered who it could be and what role they played with the satyr. He followed the trace through the store, and he saw fairies flitting between the jewelry cases and home goods, attracted to everything that glittered. They cast wary looks at him as he passed, but resumed their ogling as he passed them by.

Pretending to examine a pair of leather gloves, he tried to focus on where the concentration of the magic was centered. Fairies liked transformative, air and water elemental, divinatory and combat magics, so it made sense that they would have followed this mage, as there was the flavor of some of those magicks to their trace. He felt it up ahead and looked up to see the perfume counter. He did a double take, staring keenly at the young woman at the counter. She wasn’t dressed like the usual middle and upper classes that shopped at the department store, nor was she dressed as one of the counter girls. A friend, perhaps, stealing a few moments with their friend? Window shopping? Extravagant purchase with hoarded savings?

No, there was something familiar, and he tried to put it in perspective. Someone who would have been near the Montgomerys. If she was in that part of uptown and wasn’t incredibly uptown herself, it was more likely that she’d be a servant at one of the houses. 

As he picked up a different pair and tried them on, he could have hit himself, and cursed himself for a blockhead. The maid that had been dismissed, that was obviously who she must be. A second glance couldn’t quite confirm it; she wasn’t wearing her uniform anymore, and he honestly could not recall what the woman had looked like, as he wasn’t generally in the practice of paying attention to the staff at a party. He was incredibly detail oriented, but only when it related to his work; otherwise, he was wholeheartedly occupied with himself.

Once she left, he purchased a pair of driving gloves and meandered over to the perfume counter. “I need a gift for an aunt of mine. Something matronly and a bit out of fashion, you know the type.” The woman asked him a few questions to help identify the best scent, and wrapped it up for him. “The girl that was just here a moment ago, do you know her?”

The woman behind the counter seemed confused and a bit reticent, but she acknowledged that she knew the person about whom he spoke. “Ah, she worked for the Montgomery’s, did she not? I hate to gossip,” he lied convincingly. “But the old biddy is in a desperate situation. My aunt, you see, not your friend. Anyway, if she can stand the tyrannical rule of a mistress again, give her my card? Berries,” he grinned as she took his card.