#lime yellow dress

[pajebafittings]

Women Suit for Indian Wedding

Elevate your look and embrace the cultural charm by descovering the tradition and style with Pajeba's curated collection.

https://pajeba.com/article/16/women-suit-for-indian-wedding

[dezi-desire]

My citrus aesthetic is my main source of joy 💛💚

[artdecoandmodernist]

Alfred Reginald Thomson, Portrait Painting of Mrs Vivienne Hilliard, 1934.

[overheard-undersung]

Random clothing pngs continued

[playfullygrownup]

This pencil hem dress definitely has DIY potential whether you sew (piecing) or not (fabric paint). By Cassie Stephens at Teach the Elements of Art!

[nikosaki]

“I want to use specific names for colours/shades but I don’t know many!” Hahaha sakira has got you! If you want to add colour to the objects or stuff in your writing you shouldn’t just write it like this

“Her dress was red” “His eyes were purple”

That makes your writing bland, it dumbs down the readers imagination during reading. Instead describe the colour like this

“Her dress was like a cup of Rooibos tea under a sunlit day”

“His eyes could be compared to that of a raven’s deep violet eyes”

(tip: amethyst is an overused word, there’s a list of other purple words below you should check out)

You can describe colours using objects because it will give shape to the sentence but don’t always go too detailed. If you make one sentence with a lot of adjectives and everything then don’t over use it in the other sentence that’s is.

But remember to use a simile like “as” or “like” if you do use objects.

I already wrote “Her dress was like a cup of Rooibos tea under a sunlit day” so next time when I mention the dress’s colour again I am going to write something like this

“Her garnet dress flowed in the wind”

Why? Because simple sentenced always enchance the writing and gives reader a feeling.

now that we are done with how to write colours let’s see some synonyms!!

white- bleached , colourless , pearly , milky , snowy, ivory , salt , Lacey , linen , frosty, daisy parchment , porcelain, cotton , rice bone

black- ebony, midnight, jade , spider , coal , pitch black, void , empty, sooty , obsidian , metal, onyx , ink , crow

grey- shadow, ash , graphite , foggy, dove , silver , dull, cloud ,slate, iron, smoke, pebble

red- garnet, blush , Merlot , cherry , crimson, rose, sangria, bloody, berry , currant, terracotta, jam , merlot

orange- tangerine , ginger , apricot, autumn , spice , amber, rust, marmalade, pumpkin , carrot , clay, golden , copper , ochre

yellow- gold, canary , light , butterscotches, dandelion, honey , blonde, corn, saffron , ocher, buttermilk

green- beryl , viridescent , olive , emerald , pickle, leafy , sage , lime , pear , mint, mignonette, glaucous

blue- ocean , aqua , cobalt, navy , sapphire, admiral, denim , cerulean, indigo , lapis , peacock, aegean, azure , turquoise, cyan , arctic

purple - amethyst , raven , violet ,lilac , lavender, plum , magenta ,orchid , mulberry, heather, raisin, amaranthine , eggplant , iris , periwinkle

pink- blush , cherry blossom , taffy , peach, flamingo , rosey , salmon , fuscia, rosewood , pale red

IMPORTANT : remember to do GOOD research on shades!! You need to know which one you can use as an adjective and which one is a noun. If it’s a noun turn it into adjective, if it cannot be turned into an adjective then use a simile.

There’s more and if you know put it in the reblogs

[staytiny-dreams]

a pair of hearts (j.yh x reader)

pairing: jeong yunho x gn! reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to (implied) lovers, fluff fluff and more fluff

warnings: alcohol consumption? nobodys super drunk tho, no pronouns used, reader is mentioned to wear a dress once

wc: 3.9k

note: inspired by my friend who wanted to get drunk but didn't so that she could drive me home bc she could tell i wasn't vibing. i tried my best to edit/proofread if u find any mistakes lemme know ill fix it up.

you scrunch your face in distaste as the alcohol burns down your throat. a gag rises in your throat but you push it down, biting into the lime that brings welcome relief.

“that shit tastes like soap.” you whine, glaring at the bottle of tequila as if it had launched a personal attack on you.

the next person reaches for a card and you fold your arms in front of you where you lay, stomach down on the carpet. with a huff, your head drops down to your arms and your eyes flutter closed.

unknown to you a concerned pair of eyes follow your movements from their place on the couch across the room. yunho is nursing a glass of water, excluding himself from the game in favour of sobering up.

“can we move outside now?” wooyoung suggests for the fifth time. a groan leaves your lips as - for the first time tonight - everyone agrees with him.

as the group stands to go outside, you don't move from your place on the floor, lifting your head to see empty glasses kicked over and forgotten cards strewn across the yellowing carpet.

the music seems louder now that the room has emptied and it causes your head to pound. you curse silently at your own behaviour.

you really did want to have a good time tonight, but as the first drop of alcohol hit your tongue, any energy you might’ve had at the beginning of the night dissipated.

with a groan, you push yourself upwards with your arms, sitting up with your legs folded, looking around the room tiredly. the velvet of your dress rests softly over your knees, the skin of your legs glowing slightly blue beneath the lit christmas tree.

you take in the speaker; still blasting music despite the group's departure, the empty chairs strewn about the room; all of which are surrounded by empty cans and glasses, telling of how intoxicated the rest of your friends already are.

finally your eyes come to rest on the couch, mild surprise shoots through you, your heart jumping, as you finally notice yunho, still sitting on the couch.

having been keeping his eye on you, he immediately noticed your gaze on him, giving you a warm smile.

you briefly wonder why he didn't follow the rest of the group outside, your heart beating faster at the thought that he stayed for you.

dismissing the thought quickly, you push yourself up onto your knees, then onto your feet. smiling back up at yunho, you carefully navigate the carpet of cans, glasses, cards and food as you make your way to the couch.

with a sigh, you flop down onto the couch, close enough to yunho to rest your head on his shoulder, his knitted brown sweater soft on your cheek.

“yun-ah…” you whine and he chuckles quietly, reaching over you for the fluffy, grey blanket resting on the couch. leaning back, he pulls the blanket over the both of you causing you to press yourself into his side even more.

his breath hitches at your closeness, however the alcohol inhibiting your senses makes certain you don't notice this movement.

“yes (y/n)?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

“wanna get out of here…” you mumble into his shoulder, curling the blanket around your fingertips and pulling it closer to your chin. you keep your voice low, afraid to break the bubble you two have created, sinking into the couch cushions together.

“i know,” he admits, reaching an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arm comfortingly.

you squint up at him in confusion, your eyebrows scrunching. it takes everything in yunho to keep himself from reaching out to smooth your furrowed brow.

“been watching you, pretty,” he confesses with a surge of confidence. after registering his own words, his face flushed, red creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.

your heart sits in your throat at yunho's admission, alcohol still clouds your mind and you think you must've imagined his endearment.

“you want me to take you home?” he asks, wanting to move on from his previous comment as fast as possible, especially considering your lack of response.

“haven't you been drinking?” you remind him, shifting around to pull at your phone from where it sits, beneath your leg.

“not for a while, i stopped drinking at like eight. i can be okay to drive by eleven? eleven thirty?” he takes another sip of his water as if to prove his point to you, but you only pout.

“why'd you stop? are you not having a good time?” you poke his chest with both questions and your phone finally comes free.

yunho's chest warms at your concern, especially considering you yourself were not having a good time. in fact, yunho had noticed your energy levels were lower than usual upon your arrival. after your first shot of the night, your demeanour dropped once more.

“no, i'm having a good time, you're not though.” he points out and you whine into his shoulder.

“having a great time… now.” you unlock your phone and open tiktok, once again pushing yourself further into the warmth of yunho's body.

“now… that you're not drinking and you're left alone?” he teases and you snort a small laugh at the picture his words paint in your mind.

“not alone, with you.” your free hand, not scrolling through your phone, reaches around for yunho's hand where it still rests on your arm.

pulling his arm forward so his hand rests on your lap, you turn his hand over so his palm is open to you.

yunho's heart is beating in his throat, his face feels hot. you begin to play with his fingers and he holds back the whine that wants to leave his lips at your touch.

you tilt your screen towards yunho so he can watch over your shoulder, despite the music blasting and preventing either of you from being able to hear the phone properly.

your eyes flit to the time, showing nine fifty-seven. a groan leaves your throat before you can stop it.

yunho notices your impatience and smiles to himself.

“(y/n)-ah…” he calls and you hum in response, eyes still on your screen. with the knowledge that you're still fairly far under the influence, yunho finds his courage and rests his hand over yours around your phone.

you turn your neck to look up at him, raising a brow at his sudden move. his cheeks burn for the nth time tonight - as do yours - yet he continues.

squeezing your hand with his own, your phone screen goes dark.

“why'd you do that?” you mumble in protest and he shrugs.

“you weren't paying attention to me.” is his only explanation and you laugh in disbelief.

yunho's face lights up, an affectionate smile resting on his lips.

“did you watch that new special you were excited about?” he asks and a sullen pout takes over your face.

“no, i wanted to rewatch the original show first, but they took it off of my streaming service.” with your phone turned off, you drop it in your lap and turn your attention completely to yunho who was humming thoughtfully at your words.

“what streaming service is it on?” he probes and you bring your hand up to trace the knitted patterns on his sweater.

“amazon i think, but i had to cancel my subscription a few months ago.” you try not to sound too ungrateful or whiney, your hand movements continuing absent-mindedly.

yunho thinks he must look like a fool, a blushing mess as his face feels hotter as the seconds pass.

“i have- i have amazon.” he says with no further explanation.

“hm?” you prompt, still focusing your attention on playing with his shirt.

“i mean we could… you could… well, we could watch it together?” his statement is not a question, but his inflection suggests otherwise.

“really?” you finally bring your attention from his shirt, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eyes.

with your innocent eyes shining up at him, tired, but swelling with affection and fondness, yunho finds himself choking on his words. afraid that if he speaks, his voice will come out shaky, he gives a small nod in lieu of a verbal response and your smile widens.

“okay, but you know they only start at the new series, right?” you warn and he nods again, this time huffing out a laugh.

“yeah? why don't you tell me about the old seasons then?”

so you do. you rest your head back on yunho, cheek to his chest, faces warm and a pair of hearts beating faster than normal, and you explain the plot of each season that yunho won't get to see.

yunho practices active listening throughout your explanation, nodding and humming in response, gasping when it’s appropriate, even asking questions about the lore and history of the world.

with every gasp he lets out, every question he asks, you can feel your heart grow bigger and bigger. you would think that a big heart means you have room for everyone in your heart, but that's not true. at least not for you. because for you, yunho had rooted himself deep in your heart, and there was no room for anyone else.

your tangent was interrupted when a sharp ringing cut through the air. finding your forgotten phone hiding in the tangled blanket, you turn it over to see a reminder to take your tablets.

“did you bring them with you?” yunho's voice grabs your attention again, and you swipe the alarm away, turning back to him.

“i took them before i left.” you look back at your phone, checking the time again only to find that as you ranted about your show to yunho, over an hour had passed.

“eleven eleven, make a wish.” there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he too took note of the time.

but, looking up at yunho and his playful smile, his arm around you, your head on his chest and his hand in your lap you thought that if this was your life, you didn't need to make a wish.

the alcohol had started to wear off now, having been just over an hour since you'd had anything to drink.

yunho on the other hand, had been drinking water and snacking on spring rolls for the past three hours.

“shall we get you home now?” if yunho noticed your all but lovesick expression, he didn't say anything.

yunho simply writes off your affection as a result of the alcohol running through you which gives him the courage to tap your cheek affectionately in a gesture for you to sit up.

your cheeks went up in flames as you separated from yunho's side for the first time in about an hour. you hold back your whine at the loss of his warmth and instead stand from the couch.

you turn and hold out your hands for yunho and he raises a brow. despite his scepticism, he grips your hands and lets you try to lift him.

yunho moves easily from the couch at your first pull and you frown up at him.

“okay well you could've resisted a little. you didn't even try to make it seem realistic.”

“what do you mean? i didn't do anything, you're just that strong, really!” his tone is incredulous and you roll your eyes even as a smile spreads across your face.

“you couldn't just humour me? i could pick you up, im strong enough.” you state firmly and he shrugs.

“i’ve been taught it's bad to lie. now go get your stuff.” he places his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around and nudging you in the direction of your bag.

you reach through your bag checking you've got everything, phone, wallet, headphones, charger. deciding if anything else had been left, you could pick it up another day, you sling your bag over your shoulder.

turning back around, you find yourself alone in the room. you consider heading outside to say goodnight to everyone, but a wave of exhaustion washes over you again at the thought of rejoining the group, and you opt instead to message your close friends goodnight.

you pull out your phone and open messages, searching for the groupchat with your closest friends as you walk over to the front door. it had been propped open to allow for easy access to party goers and a cool, midnight breeze was sweeping through the entrance.

you lean against the wall next to the doorway, just out of the way of the entrance, avoiding any goosebumps that could be caused by the wind.

as you type out your message, yunho comes back into the house from the back door, tossing his keys into the air and catching them again.

“ready to go?”

“are you sure you wanna leave early with me?” you wonder, once again. you feel bad he hadn't been drinking with the others, instead staying inside and coddling you just because you weren't feeling it.

“(y/n) i just spent the last hour and a half sitting on a couch with you while everyone parties outside, i don't know what else i can do to show you that you are who i want to spend my time with.” he affirms, but you say nothing.

conveniently, the hem of your clothing becomes very interesting. you look down, picking at the seam as if you can't feel him approach you.

“besides, i didn't spend the last three hours not drinking just so i could end up not driving you home.” you huff out a laugh, still playing with the velvet that hangs around your legs.

yunho reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder, however you are still unable to meet his eyes with your heart swelling, cheeks hot, blood pumping loudly in your ears.

suddenly you wish you'd waited in the doorway maybe the breeze rushing through the door frame would've aided in cooling your body down.

“i told them all you said goodbye and that i was taking you home. didn't think you'd feel up to braving the masses again.” he places his large hand on the small of your back and leads you out the front door.

“you make me sound like a loser.” you complain, letting him shuffle you to his car that sits at the end of the driveway.

“not a loser. just sleepy. hm?” he reaches past you to open the car door for you. you throw your bag to the floor first, then, finding yourself still a little off balance, you grip the centre console with one hand to aid your entrance into the car.

the warmth of his hand doesn't leave your back until you settle into your seat when he finally pulls away he closes your door and disappears from your side.

you watch him through the windscreen as he rounds the car. his dark hair rests on his forehead just above his eyes, shining in the moonlight, looking softer than the blanket you'd been wrapped in half of the night.

his cheeks were flushed and while it was probably from the cold, you could only hope that maybe, the red in his face and neck was an indicator of an effect that you might have on him.

he closes his own car door behind him and smiles at you from his place in front of the wheel. you give a weak smile in return, your head lolling to the side, unable to keep holding your neck up as it nears midnight.

the drive seemed fast as you dozed in the passenger seat, the late night talk shows on the radio droning on and on putting you in a tired trance.

yunho had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road, knowing that if he glanced over at your sleeping frame, he wouldn't be able to pull his gaze away.

all too soon, he was pulling into the carpark underneath your apartment building, parking in the visitor section.

“is your roommate home?” he asks and you mumble an incoherent response, eyes still closed.

“jagi… are you awake?” he reaches a hand over, resting it on your shoulder, his warmth spreading over your body once more.

“no.” you say, leaning into his touch.

“no?”

“mm mm.” you hum with a minuscule shake of your head.

“ah okay.” is all he says before exiting the car and closing his door.

in a split second, yunho is at your door, the night breeze sweeping over you and his body leaning over you to unbuckle your seatbelt. you can't tell if the goosebumps prickling at your skin are from the wind, or from the proximity of the man above you.

“come on, time to get inside.” his hand rests on your cheek and jaw and you peek an eye open.

“will you stay? don't want you driving home so late alone.” yunho's smile makes your chest hurt, his eyes scrunching and smile lines creasing on his cheeks.

“okay sweetheart, i'll stay.” a smile of your own makes its way to your face and you lean forward into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist to pull you out of the car and to your feet.

leaning into his side, he places one arm around your shoulders and grabs your bag using his free arm. he throws your bag over his shoulder and closes the car door, locking it and shoving his keys in his back pocket.

“keys in my bag yun,” you mention. exhaustion seeps from your pores and you let yunho support your weight almost completely, simply focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

despite your whole body weight being placed upon yunho along with your bag, yunho walks you both into the building, up the elevator and to your apartment door with no complaints.

as you reach your own door, a relieved sigh falls from you and you leave yunho's side to lean against the wall while he rummages through your bag for the keys.

when his fingers brush against the telling seahorse keychain, he hooks the keyring on his index finger and pulls them out. with ease and familiarity he unlocks the door and pushes it open.

you duck under his arm to enter the apartment before he's even fully opened the door and he chuckles at your eagerness.

locking the door behind him, he leaves the keys in the deadlock and puts the chain across.

while his back is turned you make your way through your apartment, heading straight for your bedroom.

“(y/n)?” he calls out for you when he turns back to the empty living area. you call out to him from your bedroom and when he enters behind you he can see you at your linen closet, pulling out spare pillows and blankets.

your own bed looks hurriedly made, the top blankets pulled over, however the lumps underneath suggest that the sheets below the top layer have not been as carefully fixed.

“don't look at that.” you mutter, pushing a pillow into his chest as you pass him on your way out of the room.

he grabs the pillow, hugging it to his middle, turning on his heel and following you back out into your living area, feeling a bit like an overgrown puppy as he trails you through your house again.

in the living room, you finish setting up the couch with the spare blankets before turning back to him.

“will this be okay? or you can take the bed and i can take the couch” immediately he's shaking his head at you, with two large strides he's at your side, placing his pillow on the couch conclusively.

“if the other option was a couch made of rocks i still wouldn't take your bed from you.” he ushers you back towards your bedroom.

“you're so dramatic, the couch is comfy enough.” you whine and he laughs, pushing past you into your bedroom and pulling the covers on your bed back. his earlier suspicions are confirmed when he finds your second sheet scrunched up in the middle of your bed.

choosing not to comment on the mess of a bedspread, yunho turns to you, gripping your shoulders gently and spinning the both of you around so the back of your knees hit your bed. you huff playfully at his actions, which he also ignores in favour of pushing down on your shoulders, prompting you to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“if that’s true, i'll be fine to sleep on it then hm?” you don't respond to him, a pout resting on your lips as he crouches in front of you.

“what are you doing yun?” you swing your legs forward and back slightly before he stops your movements with a gentle yet firm grip.

yunho doesn’t answer, instead he smooths his hands down your calf and unties the laces on your left shoe, ignoring the pitchy sound you release in surprise, yunho slips the shoe off with minimal effort.

focusing his attention on your right shoe next, yunho misses the look in your eyes as you gaze down at the man undoing your laces for you. you think you could cry at the sight, unable to make sense of his behaviour tonight, but your heart feels full.

finally standing, yunho pushes on your shoulders and you follow his lead as he lays you down, petulant frown morphing into a sleepy smile at the teddy bear of a man above you.

he pulls your blanket up around your shoulders and tucks it in tightly beneath your neck and around your shoulders. another cute smile spreads across his face as he takes in your frame, wrapped up in the ocean blue of your blanket, blinking sleepily up at him.

“yunnie?” he crouches down once more to be face to face with you and his hand comes to rest on your cheek.

“hm?”

“jagi?” you ask, finally finding the courage to clarify whether or not you had imagined the term of endearment in your sleepy state.

yunho swallows, face hot as it always seems to be around you.

“yeah. yunnie?” he fires back and you let out a weak, tired laugh.

“touche.” yunho smiles warmly and your eyes close.

he takes a deep breath, pulling all the courage from every crevice of his body, leans over, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

assuming you're too far into your sleepy state to respond, he lets out a sigh and begins to stand, only to be stopped by your hand shooting out and gripping his neck.

he lets out a small yelp of surprise as you pull him back down and press a hard kiss to his cheek.

his knees go weak, legs wobbling slightly and his heart leaps into his throat at your affection. recovering from the surprise, he opens his eyes to see yours open again and searching his face as if trying to see inside and find out what he’s thinking.

“we'll talk about this tomorrow, hm? get some sleep.” he leaves his own, softer kiss on your cheek, before disappearing from your line of sight. shortly after he’s left your field of vision, you can hear your bedroom door click softly closed.

despite your racing heart, and your bubbling excitement for the following morning, your eyes flutter closed and you finally let sleep overtake you.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 3: The House Of Soup, Salad, And Breadsticks]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, Nintendo, smoking, kids, parenthood, all-you-can-eat breadsticks, wedding planning, mentions of birth trauma and abortion, a brief Greek lesson, Audi Quattros have very tiny back seats.

Word Count: 9k (someone take this laptop away from me!! I am out of control!!).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevirr @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1

Thank you so much for your patience and encouragement, I was really not doing well for a while but all your kind comments meant the world to me!!! I don't know when Chapter 4 will be ready, but hopefully early next week. My posting schedule is super wonky now. We'll get back to regular Sunday updates eventually, besties. 🥰🧁

It’s Thursday, late-morning, sunlight bending in through the open windows and a flock of blue-winged teals toddling through the backyard on their clumsy webbed feet. From the little pink Panasonic boombox pipes Whitesnake’s Here I Go Again. Your steps as you dart around the kitchen are airy and effortless; you’re humming without realizing that you are. You can’t seem to stop watching the clock, the second hand ticking endlessly, revolving like a moon around its planet. Olive Garden tonight! Olive Garden with Aemond!

“Knock knock?” your guest ventures tentatively as the front door creaks. You hear her heels click on the ever-so-slightly inclined floor and the bright jangling of keys and bracelets. Her accent does not surprise you; you were the one who answered the phone when she called in a panic yesterday.

Jade Dragon is a European company. I shouldn’t be shocked that Brits are descending upon Napoleonville.

You greet her from the kitchen, sight unseen: “Hi! Come on in!” Amir rushes over to set the very last cupcake on the glass serving tray, key lime with cream cheese frosting peppered with zest like flecks of emeralds. You have scrubbed the counter meticulously to make a space for your guest to do her cake tasting. There is an open wooden barstool for her, a yellow legal pad for you to jot down her selections. She steps into the kitchen—click click click, jangle jangle—and she is a stranger, surely, and yet something about her face strikes you as familiar.

“I really must thank you again,” the woman says, wringing her pinkish little hands, glittering with rings; she’s flushed all over from the heat, which she isn’t used to. She wears what for many women would be their Sunday Best: a modest organza dress patterned with sunflowers, gold jewelry and heels, and (oddly) a khaki overcoat that runs to her knees. Her hair hangs in thick, glossy, auburn waves. She smells like perfume, amber and roses, a brand you don’t recognize. “I was so distressed when I called, I must have sounded like a madwoman. It’s all just been so fraught. I know this is very last-minute, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you making time to see me today. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“We are delighted to help!” Amir croons warmly as he swoops in to take her coat, which she surrenders with some bewilderment, her large dark eyes clever but innately vulnerable, anxious. Again, you cannot shake the sense that you have met her before. Amir’s hands sweep down the overcoat as he peeks at the tag inside, and he mouths to you, grinning, eyebrows raised above the tortoiseshell rims of his glasses: Christian Dior! He’s delighted to help this lady, sure; but he’s far more enthusiastic about the prospect of squirreling away more cash for his imminent exodus to San Francisco. Amir hangs the coat in the tiny living room closet and then goes to the stovetop to check on the Kentucky butter cookies that are cooling there.

“Amir and I love baking for any occasion related to a wedding. Everyone is cheerful and excited…and hungry too, of course!” You give your guest a reassuring smile and wave her over to the counter. She’s still tormenting her own hands, still glancing uncertainly around the kitchen. Amir is using a spatula to transfer the cookies from the baking sheet to a cake plate. “Remind me, ma’am, on the phone you said your name was…Allison?”

“Alicent,” she corrects, taking a seat on the barstool beside you and clutching a camel-colored leather purse. She hesitates before she adds: “Targaryen.”

Targaryen?! Jade Dragon?! You gawk at her. Amir drops a Kentucky butter cookie on the floor. You exchange a glance with him and can practically see the bills flitting through his mind: Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, Jackson, Franklin.

“Please don’t make any fuss on my account,” Alicent pleads with those sleek, imploring eyes. “I’m just a customer, just an ordinary customer—”

“A VIP customer!” Amir says, beaming. He won’t work on their rigs, but he’ll take their money in a heartbeat. He considers it compensation for the inevitable environmental catastrophe, for the souls of all the places their dynasty bleeds dry.

“Ma’am…Alicent…Mrs. Targaryen…” you sputter. “What on earth brought you here?”

“My son is getting married.” She squeezes her eyes shut, an infinitesimal frustration, a self-reproach. “Our son, I mean. Viserys and I, our son is getting married, and we’re hosting an engagement party for him and his fiancée this Saturday, as I mentioned when I called. We had arranged to have caterers fly in, but now there’s some sort of visa problem and they won’t be able to make it in time. I found a company based out of New Orleans that is very well thought of for hors d’oeuvre and lunch, but the cakes I sampled…well…they left a lot to be desired. I was desperate, I tell you, utterly bereft, you know we have family and friends and all these industry representatives who will be in attendance, photographers, journalists, and I can’t ruin it, I can’t embarrass the happy couple, it’s not as if people get more than one chance at a wedding!”

Amir rolls his eyes at you from across the kitchen. Listen to this idiot, he means.

“But then I asked around town, and I got the same recommendation over and over again,” Alicent tells you, smiling now. “Everyone said that I just had to stop by Hummingbird Bakery.”

And now you know exactly where you recognize her from. She looks so much like the drunk man from the holding cell; his hair was blonde and his eyes were that sad swirling blue, but nonetheless he was a Targaryen the same as Alicent, and they share so much of the same bones, blood, innate defenselessness. That boy is getting married? His poor goddamn bride. “Well I am thrilled that you found your way to us, Mrs. Alicent Targaryen. And I think you’ll taste at least a few cakes that you’d be proud to serve at the engagement party.”

“And you can have them ready by Saturday?” Alicent asks fretfully.

“Absolutely.” You won’t sleep much between now and then, but the business matters more. And if you can recruit the Targaryens and some of their associates as regular customers…well, you might actually be able to start saving up for that new house Aemond asked you about on the night you met. You gesture to the glass tray on the counter. “Amir and I have baked twelve cupcakes for you to sample today. I’ll write up a list of the flavors you like best, and we can make any customizations. You can choose one flavor and have multiple cakes made, or four cakes in four different flavors, or any other arrangement, you just let me know and we’ll see that your wishes are granted.”

“These are all for me?!” Alicent says, surveying the cupcakes.

“Yes ma’am. Vanilla bean, triple chocolate, coconut, red velvet, carrot, white chocolate raspberry, key lime, lemon, peanut brittle, cherry chocolate chip, blueberry jam and cream cheese, and hummingbird. But don’t get overwhelmed, you only have to eat one bite of each.”

“And whatever you don’t finish we’ll let Cadi throw to the gator,” Amir says.

“Gator?” Alicent is alarmed.

“She lives in the tree row,” you explain. “She doesn’t bother anyone.” And you almost add: Except Aemond, of course. He hates her.

“Oh. Fascinating.” Alicent blinks a few times. “And who is Cadi?”

“My daughter. She’s ten, she’s at school. She’s…” You glance at the clock. “Learning about fractions and decimals at the moment.”

“How wonderful! And what does your husband do for work?”

“Terrorism,” Amir says, and Alicent Targaryen’s jaw drops.

“He’s the sheriff of Assumption Parish,” you swiftly amend. “But he’s my ex-husband now.”

Alicent doesn’t know how to reply. She stares at the cupcakes instead of at you. After several long, awkward seconds, she says: “My, do these look delicious! Where should I start?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

“This one is hummingbird cake, you said?” She picks it up. Her hands are fidgety; she doesn’t seem to ever stop moving. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Did you name the bakery after it, or did you name the cake after the bakery?”

“Oh no, the cake existed first. It’s been popular around here since…what, Amir? The 60s? Something like that. My mom taught me how to make it when I was seventeen. Hummingbird cake was my favorite dessert for years.”

“It’s from Jamaica originally,” Amir notes. The Kentucky butter cookies are displayed on the kitchen table, and now he’s beginning to peel vivid green Granny Smith apples for dumplings.

“It has bananas, pineapple, cinnamon, pecans…”

“Mmm!” Alicent sighs as she takes a bite. “Oh, it’s fantastic! The different fruits add such dimension of flavor! And the texture too, so interesting. Very substantial, almost like a fruitcake. Yes, I think that is a strong contender.” She continues on to the next cupcake. As she nibbles on each one, she chats nervously, almost compulsively. “She’s a darling girl. Woman, I mean. My future daughter-in-law.”

You get up to pour Alicent a glass of sweet tea. “What’s her name?” you ask politely. You are actively trying not to let your thoughts drift to Olive Garden: soup, salad, breadsticks, Aemond licking blood-red marinara sauce from his lips as he smirks at you from across the table, acting like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Christabel.” Alicent sets down the carrot cupcake, opens her purse, and digs through her wallet for a photograph. It’s small and rectangular, and the girl trapped inside the frame—a girl, truly, if she’s twenty you’ll eat your white denim shorts—looks like Teri Copley: billowing platinum hair, squarish jaw, pink cheeks and red lips, large dollish blue eyes. She reminds you of Barbie; she reminds you of something that belongs in a box on a shelf somewhere. “Her father is a marquess.”

“She’s gorgeous! And is that…is that a job…?”

“It’s a title,” Alicent Targaryen says with a demure, apologetic smile as she tucks the photo back into her wallet. She has spoken of things she should have known were above you. “Like a duke or a baron. Christabel is from a noble family back in the United Kingdom. Milford Haven, more specifically.”

Amir gasps, elated, waving his paring knife around in the air. “She’s just like Princess Diana!”

“She’s very young,” Alicent says, a bit wearily. She takes a bite of the lemon cupcake. “But then again, I was even younger when I got married, seventeen. That’s just the way it was back then. None of my friends even thought of going off to school for years and years, or playing the field, or getting a serious job. In our eyes, there were no other options. You found a good man from an acceptable family and you settled down and started having babies.” Alicent sips her sweet tea, ice jangling in the frosted glass. “Oh, that’s dreadful! Cold tea!” She shudders. “I suppose that’s how you all keep from getting heatstroke down here. Cold drinks and no clothes.”

“Sorry.” You glance self-consciously down at your shorts.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I’m in your jungle, I can’t expect you to conform to my idiosyncrasies.” This is a word you don’t know, although you try not to show it. Then Alicent winks. “Now, if you ever find yourself across the pond…”

I’ll never visit another country. Nevertheless, you chuckle as Alicent expects you to. “I understand what you mean about not having options. I got married at seventeen too.”

“Did you?” she asks, somber now. Her large umber eyes are uneasy, searching.

“Yeah. I was way too young. And unfortunately, the only way to know you’re too young is to not be young anymore. And by then you’ve already made such a mess of things.”

Amir looks over at you; this is not recruiting-a-customer conversation. Alicent nods, slow and thoughtful, studying you with those vast eyes like a dark mirror image of that Targaryen boy in the holding cell. She nibbles on the peanut brittle cupcake to avoid having to respond.

You pivot. “How many children do you have?”

Now Alicent brightens. “Four.”

“That many! I can’t even imagine. They must bring you so much joy.”

“In between the chaos, yes,” Alicent says, sampling the key lime cupcake. “Daeron is my youngest, he’s so sweet-natured, so encouraging, always offering to help with my projects around the house. He never complains. He hasn’t been gobbled up by the company yet. My only criticism is his obsession with his godawful parrot. I’d have it murdered, but tragically Daeron already knows it’s supposed to live 50 years. Helaena reads a lot—about gardens and insects and other planets, all sorts of things I can’t make heads or tails of—but she’s kind and gentle, and she still lets me fix her hair and take her shopping once in a while.” You think, smiling: If I tried to touch Cadi’s hair, I think she’d claw my face off. “And then my son who’s getting married—”

The front door bangs open and heavy footsteps race across the floor. He appears in the kitchen: greased-back black hair, a single gold earring, tan skin, white suit, a bold Hawaiian shirt—sapphire blue water, green palm trees, hot pink flamingos—underneath. He’s breathing heavily and his forehead gleams with perspiration. Alicent appears stunned to see him.

“Criston? What’s wrong? I said you could wait in the Lexus.”

Amir asks the man: “You’ve been in the car this whole time?”

“Don’t feel too bad for me. The Lexus has air conditioning.” The man, Criston, turns back to Alicent. “There’s a lizard out there!”

Amir sighs impatiently. “It’s a gator. And she’s perfectly harmless.”

“I just watched her maul a duck to death! There’s blood all over the grass!”

Amir is unfazed. “To humans, I mean.” He resumes peeling apples.

You tell Amir glumly: “I might have to get Willis to shoot her.”

“Only if it’s a murder-suicide.”

“Criston, help me choose,” Alicent says. She has a gift for ignoring unpleasantness, you’re beginning to notice. “I suddenly feel so overwhelmed.”

He walks over to the counter and begins taking a hefty bite out of each cupcake, eating after Alicent without any trepidation. They confer in murmurs, nods, shrugs, their own language that is threaded with a distinct and curious familiarity. Alicent catches you observing.

“He’s my bodyguard,” she explains hastily, then titters. “And my personal assistant, and my driver…”

“And your babysitter,” Criston says, grinning, crumbs all over his face.

“Yes, they never seem to outgrow the need for that, do they?” Then Alicent addresses you. “Could you manage to have six cakes ready by Saturday, do you think? They’re all so lovely. I don’t think I can narrow it down to less than that.”

Amir casts you a petrified glance. Notwithstanding that, you reply: “I suppose we can handle six.”

“Brilliant.” And you think: Aemond uses that word a lot too. “Then we’d like one vanilla, one chocolate, one blueberry, one coconut, and one hummingbird. And a key lime. I just adore the color, don’t you? A gorgeous, vivid green. It reminds me of the moors back home.”

“Yes ma’am.” You scribble her order down on your legal pad.

“And how much do your cakes cost?”

“$10 each,” Amir tells her.

“$10!” Alicent exclaims, looking at Criston. “Can you believe that? We’re certainly not in Knightsbridge anymore.” She takes $60 out of her wallet and hands it to you. “And you can deliver it to the house if I leave you an address? Around noon on Saturday?”

“Of course, no problem.”

Alicent gives you an address to add to your notes—you don’t recognize the street name, it must be in a new development—and then checks the clock on the wall. “Oh, is that right?! Christabel will be landing at the airport any minute. I’ve got to rush back to the house to make sure everything is ready for her. I can’t be a subpar host.”

“Where’s your coat, Ali?” Criston asks.

“In that closet over there.”

Criston fetches her coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Amir flashes you a salacious smirk. You wiggle your eyebrows back.

As Alicent and Criston cross the kitchen towards the living room and the front door, they pause by the table where an assortment of baked goods, different every day, is displayed for walk-in customers. Criston points to a cake plate piled high with Rice Krispie Treats. “You know who likes those,” he says softly.

“They’re very popular!” Amir announces, ever the salesman. “And we can make them with any kind of cereal you could imagine. Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Flakes, Cocoa Puffs…”

Alicent says, a bit randomly: “Cap’n Crunch?”

Amir doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely!”

“Alright.” She has a faraway look in those dark oil-drop eyes, always a little shimmery, always a little sad. “I’ll take two dozen of those as well.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” you say.

“Thank you. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echo, perplexed.

Criston and Alicent depart. You hear the front door swing open and then close again. Outside, Criston reminds Alicent to leave plenty of space between her and the gator. An engine rumbles and gravel crunches as the Lexus rolls out of the driveway.

“If they’re not fucking, I’m Tom Cruise,” Amir says. “Speaking of fucking, what time is Scarface coming to pick you up?”

“5:15.” You nod to where Alicent was sitting. “She’s not bad for a robber baron.”

“Oh, please. She would grind your bones into flour if that’s what it took to have cakes ready for her child bride engagement party. I hope that Christabel girl knows what she’s getting into.”

What is she, eighteen? Nineteen? “She doesn’t.” The phone rings and you scramble for it. “Hello?!”

It’s not Aemond. “Hey, sugar.”

Ugh. “Hi, Willis.” Across the kitchen, Amir mimes slitting his own wrists with the paring knife.

“Listen,” Willis drawls in his familiar, I’m-about-to-deliver-bad-news tone. You can hear noise wherever he is: sirens, shouting. He must be using his car phone. “I’m all tied up down here on Route 90, we got a hell of a wreck, ten cars and an 18-wheeler. Had to close all the goddamn lanes in both directions. I don’t think I’m gonna get home until late, really late, maybe not ‘til 9 or 10.”

“So you have to switch nights. You can’t pick Cadi up from school.”

“Tell her I’m sorry, will ya? And that I’ll take her fishin’ this weekend to make it up to her. I’ll keep her Saturday and Sunday, if that works for you.”

“She’ll love that,” you say distractedly. No Olive Garden. No Aemond. Not tonight, anyway. “Anything outside and with animals. Anything that lets her get filthy.”

“Thanks for understandin’. I gotta run.”

“Bye.”

“So long, sugar.” Willis hangs up. So do you.

“Oh no!” Amir waves his knife around threateningly. “No, not a chance, that gremlin does not get to ruin the first real date you’ve had in…what…ever?!”

You smile; you can’t help it. “It’s not a date. Aemond is fancy and kinky, I’m a mom covered in frosting, people like us don’t date. Besides, his personal ad was very clear: Single and not looking to change that.”

“He’s not acting very single.” Amir begins chopping the peeled apples.

“It’s fine. It happens. We can go to Olive Garden some other time. I’ll try to call Aemond, and if he doesn’t answer I’ll tell him when he gets here. Maybe we can at least chat on the front porch for a while or something. Watch the lightning bugs come out as it gets dark.”

“I’ll hang out here with Cadi,” Amir offers.

“What? Really?” Olive Garden might be back on the menu! “You will?”

“Yeah, ho. I can’t in good conscience just stand by while you are deprived of traumatized war veteran dick. I need a break from Grandma anyway. She’s gotten really into Unsolved Mysteries and that shit gives me the creeps. I don’t want to hear about missing or murdered people. I’m already scared I might end up like that.”

“I’d find you. I’d rescue you. My and my pet gator.”

Amir laughs, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Sure you would.”

“I’ll give you $10 out of my share of the bakery profits this week. For watching Cadi, I mean.”

“Deal,” he says. “Now help me with these dumplings so we can get started on those six cakes for the motherfucking Rockefellers.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s 5:13 p.m. when Aemond arrives at what Cadi named the Fall-Down House when she was in kindergarten, toting in her Chewbacca backpack sheets of homework about shapes and seasons, things you could help her with. You wonder what you’ll say when she gets to her senior year of high school and starts asking about calculus, physics, Shakespeare, college applications. It’ll be like she’s trying to talk to you in a foreign language. It’ll be like trying to explain colors to a blind man.

You’re almost done wiping down the stove and counter; Amir and Cadi are singing along and dancing to Kyrie by Mr. Mister: the Moonwalk, the Electric Slide, the Wop, the Sprinkler. Aemond wanders in and hovers on the border between the living room and the kitchen, his neon teal duffle bag hanging from one shoulder, staring with this profound, childlike puzzlement on his face. He looks like he’s never seen people dancing before; it’s some exotic ritual, some rite of a religion he doesn’t practice. He wears dark jeans, a black button-up shirt, black Converses, and his trusty Marlboro jacket. His fists are buried deep in the pockets like he’s holding something precious there, treasure, wisdom, secrets.

“Wassup, Scarface?!” Amir yells over the music, pretending to be reeling Aemond in like a fish. “Show us your best moves! Do the Worm! Do the Robocop!”

Aemond raises an eyebrow, drops his duffle bag, and—after a moment’s hesitation—glides across the tilted wooden floor to you. He takes your hands, spins you around, something like a clumsy, out-of-practice waltz, something real and enchanting beyond measure. And when was the last time you really danced with a man? Willis’ senior prom? Aemond sings as Amir and Cadi do the Running Man:

“Kyrie eleison down the road that I must travel,

Kyrie eleison through the darkness of the night,

Kyrie eleison where I’m going, will you follow?

Kyrie eleison on a highway in the night…”

Aemond releases you, sweeps his blonde hair off his forehead, and guzzles your frosty glass of sweet tea that you left on the counter in an expanding pool of condensation. You are reminded of how Criston devoured the cupcakes with no concern for the fact that Alicent had already tasted them.

“Such a weird song,” Cadi says as it fades out, as the cicadas and nighthawks grow louder through the screens of the open windows. “What the heck is a kyrie eleison?”

“It means Lord have mercy,” Aemond tells her. “It’s Greek.”

“Willis got stuck cleaning up an accident about a half hour south of here,” you explain. “But Amir and Cadi are going to have some nice couch potato time together.”

“Can we watch Unsolved Mysteries?” Cadi asks Amir excitedly, clinging to his arm. Amir groans.

“I might have an alternative,” Aemond says. He returns to his duffle bag, unzips it, and produces—not blue silk scarves, fuzzy handcuffs, a riding crop, or any other tokens of depravity—but a Nintendo game console.

Cadi screams and sprints to Aemond, unable to rip it out of his hands fast enough. “No way! Really?! I can play it?!”

“You can keep it.”

“What?!” She ogles the tannish rectangular box, the two handheld controllers. “This is the most epic day of my life!”

“I’m glad I could deliver it in person. I was just going to leave it with your mum.” Aemond starts taking cartridges out of the duffle bag. “I have Commando, Super Mario Bros., Star Force, the Karate Kid, Kung Fu, Burger Time, Donkey Kong and Donkey Kong 3, Alpha Mission, the Legend of Zelda, and Golf, which I honestly would not recommend. I used to have Top Gun too, but my brother spilled Tang all over it.”

“This is better than Christmas!” Cadi shrieks. “This is better than my birthday!” She dashes to Amir and starts hauling him off towards her room. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“I’m being kidnapped,” he tells you, feigning distress.

“Cadi, chill. Do you know how to hook that up to your tv?”

She reluctantly surrenders Amir’s hand. “Yeah, Michelle has one.”

“Okay. You can get it ready, I have to talk to Amir for a sec.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, and vanishes into her bedroom with the Nintendo and a precarious armful of game cartridges.

“Thank you,” you tell Amir quietly. “Seriously. I know I owe you.”

He grins. “Anytime. You’re helping to pay my way to San Fransisco, I really can’t complain.”

Aemond perks up. “You’re visiting San Fran?”

“I’m moving there,” Amir says. “And as soon as humanly possible! Sun, sand, and Speedos, here I come! Why? Have you been?”

“I have, actually. It’s a great city.”

You turn to Aemond; this is new information. “Did you go to school there?”

“No, I went to Imperial College in London. But I flew to San Franscisco to interview someone I was writing a term paper about.”

Amir squints at him. “Imperial paid for you to fly across the world for one interview?”

Aemond shrugs, hands back in his jacket pockets. “I got, uh, a research stipend.”

You ask: “Who did you interview?”

“I don’t think you’d recognize the name, but he was a really incredible guy. He was a nurse and the first person to ever come out publicly as having AIDS. Then he spent the rest of his life educating people about the disease. Bobbi—”

“Bobbi Campbell?!” Amir is awed. “Of course I know who he is! You actually met Bobbi Campbell?!”

“Yeah, we had lunch together. Wine and cioppino. His partner was there too.” Aemond is somber, reflective. “It’s probably the most worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well you just get better and better, don’t you, big boy?” Amir says. “Have fun at Olive Garden. Don’t hurry home or anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You are beaming, serene, warm all over, bewitched by the magic of liminal spaces, doorways between realities that rarely touch. Frank Sinatra—Fly Me To The Moon—floats through the restaurant speakers. The table is cluttered with plates and bowls: breadsticks, salad wet with Italian dressing, zuppa toscana, minestrone, main courses. Families in nearby booths are chattering; wine glasses clink, stories are recalled. You always wonder when you see cheerful married couples surrounded by children: Are they really happy? Is it worth it? Or do they go home after these displays of fairytale adoration and ignore each other, argue, brawl, crack open the Bud Lights, crack knuckles, crack bones like glass? Does true love exist at all? Or is it a lie we’re taught so the species can live on? “I’m in Italy.”

“You’re not in Italy, Cupcake. You’re in Gonzales, Louisiana. I can glance out the window and see a Doller General and a Burger King.”

“I’m basically in Italy.” You gesture to your plate, large and oval-shaped. Your entrée is divided into thirds: chicken parmesan, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo. “I got the Tour of Italy. I’m now an expert in all things Italian.”

Aemond smiles at you, the way he usually does: amused, teasing, craving. “In Italy, the pasta is always al dente. And they use very little sauce, not like here where everything is drowning in it.”

“I personally love my ocean of sauce.”

“And in Italy the bread is served plain. No butter, no olive oil, no…” He scrutinizes a breadstick. “Whatever this is. Assorted soy products, probably.”

“Don’t ruin my dinner or I’ll tie you up next time.”

Aemond laughs: crinkles around his eyes, pure boyish radiance. “Go ahead. I dare you.” He eats a bite of his herb-grilled salmon. “I looked into your Saint Honoratus of Amiens. He’s the patron saint of bakers.”

You roll your eyes like this is obvious. You like knowing something Aemond doesn’t, Aemond with his vocabulary and his high-powered career and his petroleum engineering degree from Imperial College in London, England, a place you have never seen and never will, a city that might as well be located on one of Saturn’s rings. “Yeah, clearly.”

But you never feel like the clever one for long. “And of oil refiners.”

“Is he really?”

Aemond grins. “Yeah. So we’ll have to share him.”

“Did you ever think about doing something besides engineering?” You already know the answer. You saw it in the way he talked about Bobbi Campbell.

“I did,” Aemond admits. “The engineering thing…it was expected of me. It wasn’t really my choice. It’s fine, I’m okay with my job, I’ve come to terms with it. But when I was a kid, I wanted to be a historian.”

“People get paid for that? To study history?”

“Not a lot. But I love the stories. When I was at Imperial, I’d fill every extra space in my schedule with history and anthropology courses. I interviewed Bobbi for my Microhistory class.”

“Micro…history? Tiny history…?”

“You learn everything there is to know about one individual, or one town, or one product, whatever, and through it you can get a better sense of the bigger picture. Like…you could catalogue what specific pieces of furniture were in George Washington’s house to study 18th-century trade routes.”

“Or you could use Ketchikan, Alaska as an example of the dangers of oil rigs and the corrupt, greedy company policies of modern-day robber barons.”

Aemond stares at you. “Yeah. Sure. You get it.” He wastes no time changing the subject. “Where did you go to college?”

“College?” This is preposterous. “Aemond, I never finished high school.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” you say. “I dropped out. I don’t have a high school diploma. I definitely didn’t go to college.”

He’s utterly bewildered. “But…you aren’t stupid.”

“Yes, Aemond, a lot of not-stupid people don’t go to college. And I’d imagine the opposite is true as well.”

He sighs, long and deep, rubbing his scarred forehead with his fingertips. “I’m sorry. I could have worded that more sensitively.”

“Willis is a year older than me. I got pregnant the night of his senior prom. I never went back after summer break. I figured…you know…what was the point? I didn’t need Calculus or World History. I needed money. I needed baby clothes and a crib and a car. And my high school wouldn’t have let me in anyway.”

Now Aemond glares, though his wrath isn’t for you. “They kicked out pregnant girls?”

You smile wryly, chomping on a breadstick wet with marinara sauce. “They still do. They have to make cautionary tales out of us. The weak and the lustful.”

“Well then how the fuck is someone like you supposed to provide for yourself?”

“By marrying whoever got us pregnant and never leaving them.”

“Medieval,” he snaps. He stabs at his salmon, loses his appetite, slams the fork down on the plate. The waitress had just been approaching to ask about dessert; she does a 180 and vanishes again.

“Aemond,” you say gently. I don’t want to ruin tonight. “Please don’t be angry.”

“There are specific things that make me angry.” He rests his chin on his knuckles and peers out the window. Seconds tick by; Frank Sinatra sings about New York, another city you’ll never visit. Then Aemond looks at you again. “What is it like to be a parent?” he says, in the same reverent and mystified tone that someone might use to ask what it was like to flatline on an operating table before being brought back to life. Did you get a glimpse of the gates of Heaven? Did you feel the heat of Hell?

“I can only tell you how it feels to me.” You are wistful; you are painfully honest. You’ve never told anyone this before. No one has ever asked. “It’s…wonderful, and terrifying, and exhausting. You love them more than anything, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get tired, irritated, impatient, resentful. One minute you’re laughing hysterically with them, the next you’re begging them to go to sleep so you can have a half hour to yourself, or just ten minutes, or just five. And then as soon as they’re gone you miss them. You’re too strict or too lenient, never just right. You sacrifice—money, time, your body, your soul—but it’s never enough. You accidentally hurt their feelings and then tie yourself in knots to fix it, but you can never show them when you’re sad, or frustrated, or afraid. They can be so sweet and then so inadvertently cruel. They’re too young to understand that they’re being ungrateful. They ask you questions you don’t want to answer. They’re your reason for living, they’re a burden, they’re the best thing that ever happened to you, they’re your closest friend, they’ve trapped you somewhere you don’t want to be. There are all these emotions that come in waves, they go around and around and never stop. It’s like a tire spinning in mud.”

Aemond considers you for a long time before he speaks. “I think you’re doing a good job. Cadi seems happy. She’s…uh…spirited. But happy.”

“She’s a little wild, but that’s my fault. We grew up together. I didn’t draw many lines, and now it’s too late. And she’s getting old enough to notice things she didn’t see before. Most of her friends’ parents are still married. They might not be in love, but she doesn’t understand that part yet. What she understands is that we’re broke and her dad lives in a different house, and I’m the one who made that happen.”

“You’re doing a good job,” Aemond insists. He starts to reach across the table for your hands, then stops, reconsiders, grabs his duffle bag that’s squeezed next to him in the booth instead. He unzips the small pocket on the side and pulls out a toothbrush, a travel-sized tube of Crest, and a miniature bottle of Listermint. “I’m going to go brush my teeth in the bathroom, and then I’m going to fuck you in the back of my car. Okay?”

Your smile has returned. The magic has too. “Okay. You don’t want dessert?”

“I don’t need tiramisu. I already have a Cupcake. Unless…do you want tiramisu…?”

“No, I don’t like coffee.”

“I think they have other things too, cannoli, cheesecake…”

“Aemond,” you say. “I want to leave now.”

“Got it.” He leaves $30 for the waitress on the table—he always pays with cash, you notice—and bolts for the bathroom. Fortunately, you’d had the same thought; shortly before Aemond arrived at the house two hours ago, you’d packed your pink toothbrush and a tube of Ultra Brite in your Valerie Barad rainbow purse…just in case. By the time you get back to the table, Aemond is waiting and looking uncharacteristically anxious: biting his lower lip, clasping his hands together behind his back. He’s relieved when he spots you. “I thought you might have ditched me.”

“What, and walked 25 miles home?”

“Forget it. Let’s go.” And he shoves his hands into the pockets of his Marlboro jacket before he can reveal any more of himself with them.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re flying down Route 70 with all the windows down, warm twilight wind flooding through the gaps between your fingers, centuries-old southern live oaks and flowering dogwoods passing by in a blur, an Eddie Money tape in the Audi Quattro’s cassette deck. Under the bridges you cross, brackish bayou water ripples lazily, thick with cypress trees, duckweed, spider lilies, salvinia, wading great egrets and lurking alligators. The seats are tan leather and spotless. Aemond rests a palm on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His blonde hair whips in the breeze. From the passenger seat, you can only see the right side of his face, the unscarred side. It’s almost like he’s whole again. He puffs on a Marlboro Red, smoke escaping through the open windows, tobacco and tar and nicotine, chemicals and earth.

“We better stop before we get into Assumption Parish,” you tease. “You don’t want one of Willis’ deputies to stumble upon us.”

But Aemond is particular; he wants the perfect spot. Just a mile before Ascension Parish gives way to Assumption, he finds an overgrown dirt pull-off used for fishing. He parks the Quattro just out of sight of the highway, rolls up the automatic windows, blasts the icy air conditioning.

“Get in the back,” he orders, unclicking his seatbelt. The intro of Take Me Home Tonight thunders through the speakers. You obey, climbing into the (very not-spacious) back seat. Just seconds later, Aemond follows.

You giggle when he pulls you into his lap to straddle him. As you toss away his Marlboro jacket and unbutton his shirt, Aemond yanks off your orange tank top, unhooks your bra, accidentally breaks the tab of the zipper off your white denim shorts with his strong, frantic hands. He needs you; he needs you all the time, everywhere, and he’ll never get enough. He’s kissing you deeply, roughly, nipping at your lips and tongue, breathing his smoke into you. His fingers slip into your shorts and under the silk that you bought for him, blue like his eyes, blue like the sky before heavy rain. You’re moaning, grinding, impatient; he’s helping you shimmy out of your shorts, he’s tugging down his jeans. And now you realize that he wants you to stay on top. “Aemond, no, I’m not good at it…”

“Shut up. You’re good at everything.”

That’s a lie, you know it is; still, Aemond makes you believe it. He grabs your hips and shows you exactly how to move them, and soon the rhythm feels effortless, soon you are wet and relaxed enough for him. At the last minute, he gets a condom from the pocket of his jeans, rips it open, and rolls it on. And again, you are struck by a strange but unmistakable disappointment that you cannot have all of him, that you cannot experience what it’s like to be as close to him as humanly possible, this man that you hardly know, this body that unleashes ecstasy in yours.

It’s quick: your arms linked around the back of his neck, Aemond kissing your throat and the slope of your jaw, his hands and murmurs guiding you, delicious fullness and friction. You’re amazed when he comes—I made that happen?? I did that??—and a tidal wave of extraordinary pride, lust, power surges through you. Aemond helps you finish with his fingers, only a few vigorous strokes, and then he drags you down onto the Quattro’s back seat with him.

“Careful,” you say as you lie on top of Aemond’s chest, both of you breathless and slick with sweat, goosebumps springing up in the chill of the air conditioning. You’re all tangled up in each other; there’s no room to get away. “You’re not going to be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll accept the risk.” The last rays of sunlight fall across his damp skin, turning him to amber, tiger’s eye, gold. “What happened when you had Cadi?”

You turn your face to look at him. “Huh?”

“You said you were unconscious for a few days after she was born.”

“I told you that?”

“Yeah. The first night I came over. And you’ve been on the pill ever since. You never wanted more kids?”

“No,” you say quietly. “No, I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“So something happened.”

“It’s not a cute story. It’s not sexy.”

“I’ve surmised that.” Another word you don’t know.

“I don’t really ever talk about it.”

“Because you don’t want to, or because people don’t ask?”

You’re amazed by how much he sees, like you’re a clean window, like your skin and skull are made of glass. “My water broke and I went into labor, but I wasn’t progressing fast enough,” you tell Aemond. “I mean, the nurses told me I wasn’t progressing. I didn’t really understand what that meant. It felt like something was happening. There was a lot of pain and pressure, and it was intense, definitely, but it was bearable, I still felt like myself. I was actually really proud of how calm I was. But I guess it wasn’t enough. So the doctor started me on something called Pitocin, and then the contractions weren’t bearable anymore. They were…I can’t even describe it. It was like this bone-breaking twisting, but also sharpness, razor sharpness. I imagined knots of barbed wire. It’s the only thing I could compare it to. And I wasn’t in control anymore. I wasn’t myself at all. I was this animal being trapped, being tortured, and there was no break between the contractions, they happened over and over and over again, one right after the other, and it went on for hours. I kept telling everyone that I couldn’t do it. I needed an epidural, laughing gas, pills, anything. I was begging them to knock me out. I was trying to rip the IV with the Pitocin out of my hand. But no one listened. The nurses acted like I was being dramatic. Women have babies every single day all over the world, why couldn’t I just shut up and deal with it? My mom was around, but she had pretty straightforward births, and I don’t think she could comprehend what it was like. Willis told me I was doing a good job. That’s all he could say: Good job, sugar, you’re doin’ just fine, sugar. But I didn’t want mindless encouragement. I wanted somebody to help me. I thought I was dying.”

Aemond’s hand smooths your hair. He’s watching you closely.

“When Cadi…when she was finally born, I wasn’t excited to hold her. I didn’t even care. I was just relieved the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. I told my mom to take her. I could hear the baby crying, and I remember thinking: Who is that? I almost died for that? I felt nothing for her, absolutely nothing. And then I heard…it sounded like someone had turned a sink on, because there was water running. But then the nurses were yelling and the doctor rushed back into the room. I was hemorrhaging, and it wasn’t water that I’d heard, it was blood, my blood, gushing all over the floor. I passed out and I needed transfusions and I woke up three days later. The very first thing a nurse said was that she was so happy to tell me that they’d been able to stop the bleeding without doing a hysterectomy, so I’d be able to have more children. Can you believe that? It was like I didn’t exist. I was just a vessel. As if I wanted to go through that again. No, never, no thank you. I got attached to Cadi, but it took months. Obviously, now I love her. But I was empty for a long time. Just empty, and sad, and in pain, and hopeless.”

“And your useless fucking husband named the baby you almost bled to death having.”

“He didn’t mean for it to be hurtful,” you say. “He thought he was helping. And it’s a hell of a name, I have to admit it. Arcadia Dove, like a Star Wars character or a superhero. It suits her.”

But still: Aemond shakes his head, incredulous, outraged on behalf of your long-gone teenage self. “When you found out you were pregnant, did you ever consider…you know…not having it?”

You give him a small, guilty smirk. What kind of mother could admit this? “Yeah. Yeah, I did. That was my plan, actually. I called a clinic in New Orleans and made an appointment. Cleared out every penny of my savings to pay for it. Cheaper than a life sentence, right? Amir offered to go with me, but neither of us had a car or a license, and I could never let my mom know. So I asked Willis.”

“And he wouldn’t drive you.”

Worse. “He told me that if I went, I’d be a murderer.”

Aemond jolts upright, furious. “He actually said that to you?”

“Aemond—”

“No, hold on, he actually said that?! He said that you could drop out of high school, you could throw all your dreams out the window, you could become a mum at fucking seventeen years old and marry some guy you barely knew, and if you wanted a way out that would make you a murderer?!”

You offer weakly: “Willis is really, really Catholic. A lot of people down here are, and—”

“He’s a coward, that’s what he is. He was willing to sacrifice your future to soothe his conscience. His life didn’t change. Yours did.”

“I love Cadi. I don’t regret her.”

“But you should have had a choice.”

You study Aemond: his glinting right eye, the deep stormy furrows in his brow. “Why are you so angry?”

“Because you deserved better. You could have been something more.”

Something more? Something more? “I’m not horrified by how I’ve turned out, Aemond. I made the best of my circumstances. I have a job I enjoy, I keep a roof over our heads, I have people to live for.”

“You deserved better,” Aemond repeats, soft and low.

“So did you.” You touch your palm to his scarred cheek and ask in a whisper: “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“Stop,” Aemond says, flinching away from your hand. And that’s the safe word; you have to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~

At home, Cadi and Amir are chatting at the kitchen counter with a late-night snack of apple dumplings, warmed in the microwave, and Breyer’s vanilla ice cream. Blue Bell is cheaper, but Breyer’s tastes real; it’s one of the few things you won’t compromise on.

“Mom, guess how many levels I beat in Super Mario Bros.!” Cadi doesn’t notice that your tank top isn’t quite covering the brutalized zipper of your shorts. Amir definitely does notice; he mouths to you: Baby Jesus is so sad.

“Um, I don’t know…how many levels does it have?”

“Thirty-two,” Aemond informs you.

“Seven?” you say.

“Try ten!” Cadi grins triumphantly.

“Radical! Amazing!”

Aemond applauds. “No way! You’re a prodigy!” You don’t have to ask if he wants to stay. He scoops two apple dumplings into the same bowl and then pops open the microwave, like he lives here too. “How long should I heat these up?”

“About 45 seconds,” Amir says. He yawns and puts his dishes in the sink.

“Thanks again for entertaining Cadi.” You give him a tired, repentant smile. “I would tell you to take tomorrow off, but we both know that’s not an option. I’m going to set my alarm for 3:00 a.m.”

“I myself will most certainly not be awake at 3:00 a.m. But I’ll try to get here by 7:00.” Amir gives Cadi a hug that she pretends not to appreciate. “Goodnight, slayer of Bowsers.” Then he waves to Aemond as he breezes out of the kitchen. “Goodnight, destroyer of zippers.”

Aemond covers his mouth to keep from laughing. “Cheers, Amir.” He brings the bowl of apple dumplings from the microwave to the counter, adds several heaping mounds of vanilla ice cream and two spoons, and slides it over so you can share. Outside, you hear Amir’s Ford Escort pull out of the gravel driveway. “You have a lot of baking to do, huh?”

“Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you. You’ll never believe who showed up—”

“Mom, can we go shopping tomorrow?” Cadi asks, derailing your train of thought.

Cadi? Shopping? This is an unusual request. “Shopping for what?”

“For my riding boots,” Cadi says brightly as she finishes her apple dumpling, and you think, sinking in ways you can’t let her see: Oh fuck. Here’s the conversation I’ve been avoiding for weeks. “Michelle and Erica are both going to that horse camp in July. Breanna and Sam are going too. Kristen might even go, and she’s a total freakazoid! I can go, right? I’ll need boots, and a helmet, and I want to ride an Appaloosa. They have all kinds of horses, but Appaloosas are my favorite, and if they don’t let me ride one I’m going to go nuclear.”

“Honey, I don’t think it’s going to be possible this year.”

“But I have to go. Everyone else is going.”

“I tried, I really did. But I just can’t swing it right now. Next summer I’ll have more money saved up, hopefully, and then you can go to horse camp, and maybe we can even go to Biloxi for a week too—”

“I don’t care about Biloxi.” And now she’s lashing out, because she’s realizing the answer might really be no. Aemond is silently picking at the apple dumplings, looking between the two of you but not knowing what to say. “I care about going to horse camp when literally all of my friends get to—”

“Cadi, I’m so sorry, I really am. But sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s okay, that’s a part of life. We’ll still have fun this summer.”

“I’m not going to have fun if I’m just stuck here at home all day!”

Stuck here with me, stuck here in the life I built for her. “Cadi, please—”

“I’ll give up my birthday presents,” she pleads, her eyes turning misty. “You can just not buy me anything for my birthday, or Christmas either, and you can use what you would have spent on that for—”

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, a hand on her little shoulder, her tiny breakable bones. “I wish I could give you what you want. I really, really do. I’m trying to make things better for us.”

“Can’t you ask Daddy for more money?”

And you remember what Willis said at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year. “Daddy wants to help too, I’ve already talked to him about it. We just can’t make it happen right now.”

“Daddy always says he’d have more money if he didn’t have to send you so much every month!” Cadi blurts out. Aemond is watching you, but you shake your head. He can’t say anything. It’s not his place. “That’s why I can’t go to horse camp, isn’t it? Because we don’t all live together?”

“No, Cadi, that’s not what this is about—”

“Erica’s parents live together and she gets to go! Michelle’s mom and dad are always taking vacations!”

“Every family is different,” you say, fighting to stay calm while your throat is closing up and the blood in your face is hot enough to scald.

“Sam’s mom just bought her riding boots and gloves!”

“I’m not your friends’ mothers, I’m sorry, I’m just not.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have kids if you can’t afford them!” Cadi screams, tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes, and then she storms off to her bedroom and slams the door.

You and Aemond are left alone in the midst of humming florescent lightbulbs, long-eared owl hoots, the ambient shrieks of cicadas. The apple dumplings and ice cream have dissolved into a soup. Your lips are trembling; a single blistering tear escapes down your cheek. You refuse to break down. You learned years ago that there is nothing to be gained from it. Aemond studies you, seeking and worried. You avoid his gaze. His hand reaches for yours, stops short, retreats to drum his fingers against the counter.

At last, Aemond says: “How much is the horse thing?”

“Too much. Way too much. It’s over $300, I won’t be able to make rent.”

He sighs; not a frustrated sigh, you think, but a sigh of incredulity, maybe even of pity, which is the last thing in the world that you want from him. Aemond takes his wallet from his jeans pocket, leafs through it, and counts out $400 in twenties and tens that he stacks on the countertop.

You are mortified, horrified. “Aemond, no—”

“Look, next time I see you, we need to talk. We need to talk about my situation, and your situation, and what we’re going to do going forward. And it’s…fuck, it’s, it’s complicated. You’ll see. But we have to get it sorted out, because this is…” He gestures to you, to him, to what you’re building between you like a bridge linking islands. “It’s different than what I expected it would be. And that’s a good thing, but…there’s just a lot we have to discuss.”

“Aemond, I can’t accept this much money from you.”

“The money doesn’t matter. $400? That’s nothing. The money’s not real to me. But it is real to you. So please just take it. And next time I see you we’ll…we’ll decide what happens next.”

It’s complicated, Aemond said. You’ll see. See what? How bad could it possibly be? “We can’t talk now?”

“No, I can’t do it now. I just can’t.”

He’s not just uneasy or distracted. He’s fucking scared. “You’re married,” you say.

“No. No wife, no kids. I swear to God.”

“No girlfriend either?”

“No.”

“You’re divorced.”

“No.” He combs his fingers through his short blonde hair, stares blankly at the wall behind you. “You’re free Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. I think Cadi will be with Willis all weekend, actually. He’s taking her fishing on Lake Verret. If Jade Dragon hasn’t blown it up by then. I’ll be busy with work Saturday morning and early afternoon, but after that I’ll be around.”

“I’ll come over around dusk, probably,” Aemond says, hands in his Marlboro jacket pockets, thoughts miles away. “I have something going on Saturday afternoon too.”

And he leaves before you can thank him for the stack of cash on the counter, or for any of the rest of what he’s given you.

[bleue-flora]

Was gonna do everyone, but I'm feeling lazy so here's what I got so far for the playdate au character details:

Name - Make Believe Name(s) - Age - Favorite Color - Physical Appearance - Other

Phil - Philza, Dadza - 16 - dark green - greenish blue eyes, gingerish blond hair - when he decides to go outside and play with the kids he tends to wear a silly looking striped hat (mostly though he tends to stay inside and text his girlfriend, Kristen)

Wilbur - WilburSoot (or also Ghostbur, Revivebur) - 13 - Blue - pretty fit and tan (because he’s on the school’s swim team), tall and lanky, brown hair and eyes - almost always wears his colonial style hat and when it’s cold enough his favorite yellow sweater

Sam - Awesamdude, Sam, Sam-nook, The Warden - 12 - green - naturally light brown hair he dyed green, brown eyes - has glasses, wears yellow tee-shirt and green cargo pants that he fills the pockets of with all kinds of handy tools and things, including rocks that he loves to collect, has a fake ruby necklace he loves to wear as well as his crown

Clay - Dream - 11 - lime green - green eyes, dirty blond hair - as he’s autistic he wears comfy clothes only like gym shorts and soft tee-shirts for example and hoodies when it’s cold enough (he will not be caught dead in jeans), used a paper plate with a smile on it to jump scare Tommy once and now it’s his Dream aesthetic

Luke - Punz - 11 - blue - bright blond hair and blue eyes - has a gold necklace he never takes off, his ears are pierced with some gold studs,, his favorite outfit is his ripped black jean shorts and white tee-shirt

Alex - Quackity - 10 - Red - dark brown eyes and black hair, kinda more short stubby - him and his family are mexican, tends to wear classic dark blue and black and doesn’t mind getting dressed up for the occasion, always wears a beanie though, carries a pack of candy cigarettes he pretends to light with a lighter he found, tends to carry a deck of cards and his dad’s old pocket knife, knows a little more than a kid should, has a little scar over his lip from falling face first that Techno turned into a whole lore point

Alexander - Technoblade - 9 - red - blue eyes and dirty blond hair though he tried to dye it an edge red to be cool and it turned out pink instead - he loves to wear his red cape and crown all the time, someone once called him a pig because of his pink hair and after that he added pig ears and nose to his Technoblade look, he also often is seen riding his stick horse steed named Carl, he has glasses that George often steals

Mark - Ranboo - 8 - purple - brown hair, green eyes and super tall and lanky - entire wardrobe is black with lots or variations of black and white, often see with sunglasses and face mask on to be mysterious and of course his crown

Nick - Sapnap - 7 - Orange - brown eyes and unkempt hair that’s just long enough to be annoying that he keeps out of his eyes with his white ninja headband - favorite outfit is black athletic shorts or pants with a flame themed shirt, when it’s cold he’ll wear the same shirts just with a long sleeve black shirt underneath, often carriers around a katana and pretends to be a stealthy ninja

Karl - Karl Jacobs - 7 - purple - light brown hair and blue eyes - when it’s cold he loves to wear his iconic hoodie, he wears lots of fun colors and patterns like the stereotypical stylish gay guy, he has a old stopwatch he likes to carry around

Thomas - Tommy, Tommyinnit - 6 - red - blond hair, blue eyes, tall (for his age) and lanky - likes to wear khaki and that two toned classic tee-shirt, often see with red bandana around his next like some western outlaw and appropriate red devil horns

Toby - Tubbo - 6 - green - bright blond hair and blue eyes - Niki gave him bumble bee barrettes he wears to keep his bangs out of his eyes, he’s very attached to his stuffed pig, can be found wearing cuffed jean shorts or sometimes overalls

George - Gogi - 5 - light blue -  brown eyes and messy hair - always carries around his mushroom patterned blanky, likes wearing his favorite iconic blue shirt and jeans

Current families developed in age order:

Dream, Techno, Sapnap, George

Phil, Wilbur (and surely Fundy needs to be the youngest)

Purpled, Quackity, Slimecicle

Punz, Vikk and Lazar (4 year old twins)

(Ya know based off appearances alone maybe Tubbo and Tommy should be twins?…)

 Others TBD...

[mallleus]

OMG i LOVE your headcanons of Stan with a Hispanic spouse and I wanned to rant a little bit since I'm from Costa Rica and wanted to share and know what you think about it, we have some desserts that I found funny for them to try out like the arroz con leche you can eat it hot or cold so it can be like el caldo de pollo but in dessert

-its okay chiquilines hay arroz con leche!

Dipper/Mable/Stan: :D

-Fresh out the olla!

Dipper/Mable/Stan: D:

There's also tamal de Maizena that looks kinda like yellow squares and it's pretty tasty, also the helado de sorbetera

Also in the parties telling Mable about the los dulces 15s and now making the dress and all for her future 15 party

Also disguising sometimes like for Halloween or to scare the Tourists in the shack dressed as la segua or el cadejos

And with the fun remedies my grandma have black tea, lime and honey to ease the throat and it does work or Do gargles with baking soda dissolved in water that works for Phlegm's

Also a specific for Stan, el cofal, it's a Muscle rubbing cream it's white and it really help for backache or Shoulder pain neck pain etc

Also thought in the "estan" to call him when the spouse it's angry, in my family it's the long full name so would be kinda like "ESTANLIIII PAAAAAAAINS"

I love this ask, send more Stan with Hispanic! Spouse reader

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Good morning, fam! Doing another work is published day since I didn’t get to tease this one much. From All The Stars Are Closer, which is live on ao3 now!!! ✨

The group makes quite the spectacle as they enter the pool deck, TK must admit. He sees several heads turn in their direction and he’s not sure if all of the attention is positive. Everyone’s wearing brightly-colored swimwear, a decision they made in the group text thread as an homage to the Clue murder mystery party they attended a while ago where they each dressed up as a character from the board game.

Carlos as Professor Plum is donning bright purple trunks that hug his ass and thighs in all the right places. TK has opted for a pair of shimmery red trunks and a matching red button up accented with pink flamingos.

Marjan looks chic as always in her white rashguard suit that she’s paired with a white and gold floor length sarong and a matching headscarf that glitters when the specks of gold catch the sunlight.

Nancy’s rocking a periwinkle two piece with a royal blue visor and a teal fanny pack while Paul and Mateo wear yellow and lime green trunks respectively. And Iris, who hadn’t been present for the Clue party, was assigned the character of Miss Melba Peach and is wearing a soft orange one piece with her hair pulled high in a bright orange scrunchie.

“Oh my god,” Carlos groans when he sees all the eyes on them. “I can’t believe I let you all talk me into this. Again.”

“What are you talking about, Carlos?” Nancy grins, turning around to walk backwards so she can shoot him an over-the-top wink. “You look hot. We all do.”

“We look like a walking pride parade,” he shoots back, waving a hand as if to point out all the colors of the rainbow.

“Well it is a gay bachelor party, bro,” Mateo proclaims rather proudly.

“Let me know if you want me to break out my mustache,” Paul jokes and everyone bursts into peals of laughter, remembering how ridiculous he looked with his massive glued-on handlebar mustache and monocle as Colonel Mustard.

“Okay,” Carlos says, slinging one arm around TK and the other around Marjan. “Let’s just try not to draw too much attention.”

TK laughs and grabs the hand Carlos has draped across him, linking their fingers. “Not draw attention? With you?” He pauses to bite at Carlos’s ear. “Impossible.”

Thank you for the tags @ironheartwriter @captain-gillian @heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @is boatedhere @carlos-in-glasses 💕

Tagging @whatsintheboxmh @ironheartwriter @corsage @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89 @literateowl @emsprovisions @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript @honeybee-taskforce @thisbuildinghasfeelings @welcometololaland @eclectic-sassycoweyes @tellmegoodbye @ladytessa74 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @basilsunrise @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @sapphic--kiwi @herefortarlos @firstprince-history-huh @fitzherbertssmolder @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @strandnreyes @paperstorm @filet-o-feelings @fallout-mars @your-catfish-friend @kiwichaeng @tinyluminaryzombie @guardian-angle22 @rmd-writes @iboatedhere @reyesstrand @never-blooms @decafdino @certifiedflower and OPEN TAG 🏷️

[mercurygray]

Hey Merc! I’d love to read about some girl bonding time for your MoTA OCs - how do they spend their down time? Have any of them bonded over other interests besides aviation/their occupations? - @softspeirs

Katie, I'm ashamed to say you gave me this prompt in April and I'm just now getting around to filling it. I'm also combing it with a prompt from @shoshiwrites for 'sunbathing' - they seemed like a natural fit together.

--

If you closed your eyes, it was almost like the beach.

It wasn't really anything like the beach, not really - just a freshly mown infield and a sunny day. But if you changed into a swimsuit, and laid down on a blanket, and closed your eyes, and no planes flew overhead, it was possible - just possible - to believe you were somewhere nice and swanky like Havana, or the south of France, lying on white sand with nothing but warm blue water in front of you.

"I'd kill for a cocktail right now," Tatty said, from underneath her sunglasses. "A daiquiri, with fresh lime juice and a chilled glass."

"And a nice boy to pick up the tab afterwards?" Mary asked, obviously fishing. They were all due leave, in various amounts, but since travel passes seemed to be hard to come by and one never seemed to know what would be waiting at the end of the line once you got there, sunbathing in the middle of an airfield in Norfolk seemed like a more reliable option. So that's what they were doing with their afternoon off - imagining better vacations in more exotic locales.

"It wouldn't hurt," Tatty replied, the shrug implicit in her voice. "We'd better be somewhere with a dance floor, too." She thought about this for a moment. "The Army and Navy Club has good daiquiris. And plenty of nice boys, too."

"I don't think they'd let us into the Army and Navy Club, Tatty." Helen was being more practical about the whole thing. It was one thing to be Katherine Spaatz and quite another to be Helen Owens, whose parents weren't anything special and whose going-out dress, by her own admission, left something to be desired.

"Of course they would."

"Not a lot of beaches in DC, though," Mary pointed out.

"Fair enough. But plenty of boys. And plenty of dancing."

"How about you, Fred?" Mary asked, changing the subject. "Any beach you'd like to be on right now?"

"Not a lot of beaches in Madison," Fred replied, eyes still closed, enjoying the sunshine. She was borrowing one of Mary's summer tops for the day, a halter in a red and yellow print, and trying to make the most of a few hours "I think I'd like to be right where I am. Field of flowers with a lot of sunshine and a book and no one to bother me. No students, no parents, no club room - just me."

Mary looked back towards base and sighed. "Don't hold your breath on not being bothered, Fred. I think we've been spotted."

A male voice came booming across the airfield. "Mary Boyle, are you having a party without us?"

"And what if we are, Everett Blakely? It's gotten to where a girl can't hear herself think if she doesn't go off into a field for a few hours."

"We thought about putting out a sign on the club that said No Boys Allowed," Tatty added, with a catty grin, sitting up and taking off her glasses so she could see just what they were up against. "But we didn't think any of you hooligans could read."

"Now, that's just mean, Miss Spaatz," Blakely replied, sitting down on the blanket with a semi-dramatic huff. Work must have been done for the day - the crowd with him was Douglass, and Hambone Hamilton, John Hoerr, who was carrying a large packing crate, and John Brady, all of them cool and loose in sunglasses and shirtsleeves, soaking up the sunshine.

"We're not going to let you stay unless you brought something to share," Tatty said archly, neither confirming or denying that she was mean, watching as the rest of the group made themselves comfortable on the picnic blankets.

"Does a case of cokes and a pack of cards count?" Blakely asked, pointing to Hoerr's box like he thought it would win him favors. "Jim thought we could play Crazy Eights."

"My ma also sent a box of cookies," Douglass added, looking hopefully in Mary's direction, his hand tight around the tin. "Shortbread - like my grandma used to make."

"Did you all lose Major Chatterbox on your way over?" Tatty asked, reaching straight past for the tin of cookies and helping herself to a piece without being asked twice. "Bucky Egan isn't one to miss a party."

"He said he had some business at the Control Tower," Hoerr reported, setting down the box and passing around the bottles, and an opener on a ratty piece of ribbon.

"Is that what they're calling that now?" Douglass asked with a grin.

"Hush, you," Mary chided companionably, taking the tin and her own piece of shortbread. (Douglass, for his part, looked happy to be so ordered, and did as he was told.) "I think it's sweet. She's good for him. Brady? Fred? Who's in for Crazy Eights? "

"I'll pass," Fred said, closing her eyes again and tucking her hands behind her head.

"I'm good watching," Brady added. His hand was close to her elbow, and after a few minutes, she could just feel his thumb caressing her skin, the tiniest gesture with the biggest meaning. Eyes still closed, her smile grew wider, and she went right on enjoying the sunshine, perfectly content. After all - who needs a beach?

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

It's Make a Terrible Comic Day! Because it's approximately Fuck degrees out with a heat index of Hell, I decided to share my favorite summer recipe. I credit this with saving my sanity when I lived in a South facing apartment without central air. Actual approximation of a recipe under the cut.

This is a very forgiving recipe that you can mess with a lot and it'll still come out great. Originally it was this recipe here, but it's very far removed.

What I used today:

About half a package of soba noodles, boiled until done and rinsed in cold water to stop the cooking

Two bell peppers, one red and one yellow, julienned

One cucumber, partially peeled and sliced pretty thin

One pound of carrots, cut into thin matchsticks by hand because the store didn't have any matchstick carrots and you couldn't find the grater

At least a cup if not 2 of frozen corn because damn you love corn

A package of green onions, sliced. I think there were 6 in there.

A big handful of cilantro

Firm tofu, squeezed of excess liquid and left to sit a bit in some soy sauce, lime juice, and rice vinegar. Crumble it up so it looks like feta.

You can go wild here. Radishes. Cabbage. Red onion. Crushed peanuts. Snow peas. I'm gonna try edamame next time. If you think it'll go well together you have my permission to go nuts.

Give that whole thing a mix in the biggest bowl you own and then in a littler bowl make a dressing. This has literally become vibes to me so I'm not even gonna guess at measurements.

A lot of lime juice

A little less rice vinegar than that

A good glug or two of honey

More ginger than that (I use the squeeze bottle stuff)

At least as much canola oil as lime juice

A good few shakes of toasted sesame oil

Salt and pepper

If you weren't a weenie like me you could add Sriracha or red pepper flakes here but I'm weak

DO NOT COMBINE THE SALAD WITH THE DRESSING UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE!!!

The salad and the dressing will keep in the fridge seperately for several days, but once you mix one into the other you're locked in to eating it or it'll become a soggy greasy mess.

I love prepping it for work, it's a lot of chopping but you can make a huge batch that's several meals (or enough for a pretty good group).

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Meal Prep Recipes for Lowering Blood Pressure and Improving Heart Health:

Recipe 1: Grilled Lemon Herb Chicken with Roasted Vegetables

Ingredients:

- 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

- 2 tablespoons olive oil

- Juice of 1 lemon

- 2 cloves garlic, minced

- 1 teaspoon dried oregano

- 1 teaspoon dried thyme

- Salt and pepper, to taste

- 1 medium zucchini, sliced

- 1 red bell pepper, sliced

- 1 yellow bell pepper, sliced

- 1 small red onion, sliced

- 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

- Fresh parsley, for garnish

Instructions:

1. In a bowl, mix olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, oregano, thyme, salt, and pepper. Add chicken breasts to the marinade and let sit for at least 30 minutes.

2. Preheat grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Grill chicken for 6-8 minutes per side, or until cooked through.

3. Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). On a baking sheet, arrange zucchini, bell peppers, and red onion. Drizzle with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper. Roast in the oven for 20-25 minutes, or until vegetables are tender.

4. Divide grilled chicken and roasted vegetables into meal prep containers. Garnish with fresh parsley.

5. Store in the refrigerator for up to 4 days. Reheat before serving.

Recipe 2: Quinoa and Black Bean Salad with Avocado Dressing

Ingredients:

- 1 cup quinoa, rinsed

- 1 can black beans, drained and rinsed

- 1 red bell pepper, diced

- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved

- 1/4 cup red onion, finely chopped

- 1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped

- 1 avocado

- Juice of 1 lime

- 1 clove garlic, minced

- 2 tablespoons olive oil

- Salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions:

1. Cook quinoa according to package instructions. Let cool.

2. In a large bowl, combine cooked quinoa, black beans, red bell pepper, cherry tomatoes, red onion, and cilantro.

3. In a blender or food processor, combine avocado, lime juice, garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Blend until smooth.

4. Pour avocado dressing over the quinoa salad and toss to combine.

5. Divide the salad into meal prep containers. Store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

These meal prep recipes are high in fiber, lean protein, healthy fats, vitamins, and minerals, all of which are beneficial for lowering blood pressure and improving heart health. Enjoy these delicious and nutritious meals throughout the week.

[theboywithburninghands]

Oh boy, who’s ready for more Arranged Marriage? No I mean seriously, I hope you’re ready. I’ve been planning this chapter for a while, at least one part. I hope it’s up to snuff, enjoy! @fernstarsblog

T/W: Implied homophobia, drug use, era-appropriate sexism

Primum Peccatum Ch. 11: She Gave Me Sleeping Powder

“Pomni, eccoti qua! The tailor got here half an hour ago, where have you been?”

Mirella hurried across the foyer as soon as her daughter entered the Shutnyk Estate. Pomni scarcely managed to get the door shut and locked before Mirella began to fiddle with Pomni’s hair.

“Good morning to you too, mother.” Pomni drawled.

“Darling, when was the last time you washed your hair..?” Mirella fussed.

“Yesterday afternoon, Zooble can attest to it. Before you ask, I was visiting Sister Ragatha and Miss Gangle.” Pomni twitched an eye and moved her head away from her mother’s hands. “Mother, please stop that.”

“I’m sorry, piccola, I simply want everything perfect for today. I think you’ll be delighted by the dress I picked out for you!” Mirella clasped her hands together and beamed.

“If you managed to select one that isn’t an affront to fashion, that is,” Pomni replied tartly. She told her mother five days ago and in no uncertain terms that she wanted a dress without any frills, in the figurative and literal sense. Pomni warned Mirella that if she tried to force her into a gown that made her resemble some kind of albino peacock, she would set the manor ablaze.

“Oh, pish-posh, just wait until you see it! I had the tailor bring along a facsimile for us! You can make any changes you like, it is your wedding after all!”

Pomni chewed her lower lip to keep from blurting anything out. Her wedding? Ha. This had been entirely her parents’ wedding since the outset. It just happened to involve her.

A few dividers were set up in the northwest corner of the dining room, Vladimir seated at the head of the table with the newspaper. Zooble stood off unobtrusively in the corner, hand and claw behind their back. They gave a slight nod to Pomni as she passed.

“Ah, the paper is here. Has the post arrived as well?” Pomni asked, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Vladimir looked up from the paper with a raised eyebrow. “It has. Were you expecting something, Pomni?”

“Yes, I… subscribed to another literary journal, I was expecting it today…” Pomni said, looking down. A lack of eye contact would have betrayed suspicion, but Pomni already abhorred locking eyes, so her gazing at the floor was hardly atypical.

“Eyes up darling, the tailor has everything prepared,” Vladimir said.

From behind the dividers, a fellow with an appearance like Pomni had never seen before stepped out. He was the shape of an alligator, but his body appeared to be composed of some sort of jelly, slightly transparent lime-green and yellow with a white underside traveling up the length of his jaw. He wore an impeccably tailored navy blue suit with a red pocket kerchief. He bowed politely.

“This is Mr. Gummigoo, Pomni!” Mirella said. “He’s half-shapefolk, half-beastfolk, isn’t that interesting? You so rarely see such a combination around New Hirnantia.”

“G’day, Miss,” he said. His accent marked him as from The Elsewhere Isles of New Hirnantia.

The Elsewhere Isles were an archipelago of around 75 islands off the southern coast of New Hirnantia that human settlers explored centuries ago. While some of the islands were uninhabitable deserts or jungles dense enough to keep even the most intrepid explorers away, the largest island, Lulilaloo, was a more temperate island populated by a race of beastfolk. There was, of course, a war for the land and resources. However, the beastfolk of the island proved themselves quite advanced, having discovered how to make explosives and crude metal through their millenia of alchemical research. As such, the New Hirnantian army only managed to colonize roughly half the island before exhausting their budget and manpower. The prime minister had no choice but to sign a ceasefire with the leader of Lulilaloo’s beastfolk tribes that prevented humans from encroaching any further on the island, but tensions remain high on both sides to this day.

“How do you do, sir?” Pomni curtsied.

“Mr. Gummigoo is a renowned tailor throughout the world, Pomni!” Mirella exclaimed. “You have no idea the strings your father had to pull to commission him for your dress.”

“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you, sir.” Pomni said.

“Pomni, eyes up and on our guest,” Vladimir chided.

Gummigoo held up a hand. “It’s no issue, Mr. Shutnyk. Miss Shutnyk, would you like to see your dress?” he asked.

“I would, yes. Thank you.” Pomni replied, keeping her eyes down.

Mirella made a delighted noise, causing her daughter to flinch.

“Right this way, please,” Mr. Gummigoo said, leading Pomni to the dividers. “I took your requests for simplicity to heart, but your mother was adamant I include a bit of flourish in the design.”

“To nobody’s surprise,” Pomni muttered.

“Indeed,” Mr. Gummigoo said, a laugh on the edge of his voice. “But, I believe I’ve reached a happy medium. Now, please keep in mind, dear, that this is just a facsimile. I’ll prepare the actual dress for you when I have your measurements and your complete approval.”

Gummigoo smiled and pulled away one of the dividers. A mannequin, headless and legless, stood on a wooden stand behind it, clad in a dress.

Pomni walked a bit closer. She knew next to nothing about dresses, as fashion didn’t interest her, so she hadn’t the slightest idea of the fabric, although one material was abundantly clear. The lower half of the gown was decorated with white feathers. Beginning with just a few solitary wisps, they gradually thickened to cover the entire bottom half of the dress. Pomni touched it. It was pleasantly soft.

“Pomni, ask before you touch,” Mirella scolded.

“There’s no issue, Mrs. Shutnyk. It’s just a facsimile. And it is going to be her dress, after all.” Mr. Gummigoo replied.

She looked at the top half of the dress. It was patterned with small, modest white pearls of fabric, lacking sleeves or shoulders. There wasn’t anything else. No unnecessary ruffles or bands or tassels. It was…

“…It’s very nice.” Pomni said after a moment. She looked at Mr. Gummigoo with a small but earnest smile. “It’s… I quite like it.”

Mirella clapped her hands in delight as Mr. Gummigoo gave a satisfied nod.

“I knew you would like it, piccola, I just knew it! You’re an artisan, Mr. Gummigoo!”

Gummigoo raised a hand modestly. “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Shutnyk. Now, may I have a few moments with your daughter? I still need to do her measurements.”

“Of course, of course! Oh, I’m so thrilled Pomni!” Mirella threw her arms around her daughter, who managed one hand on her back in return. “Very well, come along Vladimir, let’s allow Mr. Gummigoo to work his magic!”

Vladimir folded up his paper and scoffed. “Magic, indeed. For the amount of crowns I’ve given that gentleman, those feathers should come from a pegasus…”

The two of them left the room, Zooble following suit after a moment.

“Now, it's my understanding that you dislike being touched.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That’s correct.” Pomni replied.

“Shouldn’t be an issue, if you don’t mind holding my tape measure. Can you please hold out your arms?”

Pomni did so, Mr. Gummigoo unraveling a whip of measuring tape and looping it around her torso.

“Put your hand here if you don’t mind,” he gestured to a spot on her side where the tape intersected. Pomni put her palm over the tape, Mr. Gummigoo making some notes in a ledger with a fountain pen.

“Mr. Gummigoo, may I ask you a question? It isn’t about my dress.” Pomni said.

“Certainly, although I’m afraid I don’t have much expertise in subjects outside of tailoring.” he replied. He adjusted the tape measure around her hips.

“...How many women have you done this for?” she asked.

“Hm… going on 300 now, I believe.” he said, motioning for Pomni to hold the tape while he made another note in his ledger.

“300, gracious,” Pomni said. “Well, another query, if you don’t mind. Out of those women.. How many of them were happy to be married?”

“A good amount of them were very happy. It is their marriage, after all.” he replied. “Some were so overjoyed they were in tears. And some-”

“Were simply in tears?” Pomni concluded.

Mr. Gummigoo glanced over his shoulder for Pomni’s parents or Zooble, then looked back at her.

“Yes,” he replied, continuing to take Pomni’s measurements. “A few were forced into unions with distant relatives, or with complete strangers, out of financial necessity. Some of them whispered to me, or even tried bribing me to get them out of the arrangement. Of course, there’s nothing a tailor such as myself could do.” he replied, morose.

“That is what happened to me. I’m being married off as a ‘favor’ to one of my father’s clients to get him out of debt. Not as though he deserves it…” Pomni grumbled the last sentence mostly to herself.

“The man you’re marrying is not your ideal partner?” Mr. Gummigoo asked.

“The man… I am reasonably content with the man. Everything else can sod off-” Pomni covered her mouth. “Excuse me. Everything else is… unpleasant.”

“‘Reasonably content?’ You’re condemning the fellow with faint praise.” Mr. Gummigoo said, smiling. He had her hold the measuring tape around her shin and made another note.

“Believe me, it’s an improvement over last week. I’d have seen him tarred and feathered then.”

Mr. Gummigoo coughed lightly.

“But… things have changed. He was forced into marriage just as I was, and I’ve met his family. His home life makes mine look like a jaunt through a field of flowers.” Pomni admitted.

“And what of his character?” Gummigoo inquired, looping the tape measure around her neck.

“His character is pleasant. Although, as I said, I’ve only known him for a week…” answered Pomni.

“I would spend the rest of your time before your marriage getting to know him. If you appreciate his character, perhaps he can become your ideal partner.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That is what I’ve been doing, some of it purposeful, some through happenstance. He is well-spoken and charming to a degree, but… he has many skeletons in his closet.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true of most of us,” Mr. Gummigoo said, jotting down the last of his measurements. “This country thrives on the philosophy of keeping all problems out of polite society.”

“‘One must have some pressure within oneself to truly change within their chrysalis.’ Liz Armitage. I agree, Mr. Gummigoo.” Pomni said.

Mr. Gummigoo closed his ledger and smiled. “I’ve never read her. But, I can tell you this. I believe people have told me more secret worries than most clergymen have heard. Because I’m just a tailor. I create wedding gowns, and then I’m never heard from again apart from my invoice. Who am I going to tell?”

Mr. Gummigoo set the dividers aside, putting his ledger and measuring tape into his bag and picking it up.

“People are expected to smile and bow in polite society, keeping all their pain on the inside until it starts to fester. I can tell you this, Miss Shutnyk. Pain is part of life, and we should stop pretending it isn’t. The day someone, a man, woman or otherwise, can admit they’re in pain to a complete stranger without the worry of being shunned. Then this country can start moving forward again.”

Pomni looked at Mr. Gummigoo, who bowed and smiled.

“I’ll have your dress ready in a week’s time, Ms. Shutnyk. G’day.”

“Good day,” Pomni replied.

With one last bow and smile, Mr. Gummigoo stepped out of the dining room, and out of Pomni’s life.

—

Pomni put on her sunhat, the black one. She intended on paying Jax Krolik a visit today. Mr. Gummigoo made a compelling point. Several compelling points. But most immediately, she should spend more time with her husband-to-be. There were so many questions that she hadn’t asked him yet. So many books to discuss.

She exited the estate, crossing her mother’s flower garden and heading up the road to The Rooker Estate.

“Pomni!”

From further uo the road, an orange rabbit in a purple dress waved, carrying a brown wicker basket draped with a red and white blanket.

“Kali! Hello!” Pomni smiled and went over to Jax’s sister-in-law. Unsurprisingly, Kali hugged her, but, also unsurprisingly, she didn’t mind. A warm, sweet smell came from the basket.

“Let me begin by saying that I’m so very sorry for yesterday… I did want to warn you about Jax’s father, but you were already so frightened…” Kali put a hand to her own cheek and looked off guiltily.

“It isn’t an issue, Kali. I was braced for something unpleasant to happen already, truthfully… Jax told me about Boone.” Pomni nodded to the basket. “What have you got there?”

“Ah, I brought over the leftover tea cakes for Jax! I took them home with us last night, it would be a shame to waste them.” Kali chirped, taking the blanket off the basket and showing off the baked goods within. They had been warmed and re-dusted with powdered sugar. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, I would… I haven’t eaten this morning.” Pomni took one, forgetting to ask if she could first. Her mother would have slapped her hand.

The two women sat beneath a nearby pine tree, taking care to shift any pinecones aside before being seated. Pomni had a bite of her cake. It was just as delicious and tart as it had been the previous night. It tasted even better knowing that she could savor it, not having to worry about Drexl or Boone. It still sat like a weight in her stomach, but that would just make her feel more full after missing breakfast.

“These really are wonderful… Zuzanna is a wonderful chef.” Pomni said, brushing some stray powdered sugar off her cheek with her knuckle.

“Isn’t she? I think her cooking is half the reason for my… girth.” Kali put a palm on her soft stomach.

Pomni scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Plumpness just shows that you have enough to eat, and that’s something to be thankful for. Besides, you’re perfectly attractive as you are.”

“Oh, listen to you! You should write a book with that silver tongue of yours.” Kali had a bite of a cake, her face pink and smiling. Pomni finished hers, sitting full and content. She looked up at the sky through the pine needles. Gray light peeked through in faint glittery flashes.

“Oh, speaking of, have you had the chance to think about your vows?” Kali asked.

“I haven’t. Truth be told, at first I was just going to select a passage about love at random from one of my books… But, now that I’ve gotten more comfortable with him, I should look into it, shouldn’t I?” Pomni’s eyes remained on the sky.

“I’m delighted that you’ve grown to like him, Pomni. He’s a good man. He can be a bit sly at times, but he’s got a warm soul. Unlike his father.” Kali sighed, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief from her purse.

“Are Osvaldo and Boone alright? I hadn’t even thought to ask, how wretched of me…” Pomni replied, chewing her thumbnail.

“Boone will be fine. I know it may be difficult to believe, but that’s not the first time his father has grown upset with him,” Kali said with a smirk. “Osvaldo…Oh, Osvaldo, the poor thing. He’s such a sweet boy, but his father just wants a perfect copy of himself.”

“I do question why Drexl hasn’t tried marrying him off…” Pomni wondered.

Kali opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought for a while.

“Well, if you’re going to be part of the family, you may as well know. Osvaldo is only interested in men. He has been since I’ve known him at just 15 years old.”

Pomni looked at Kali, then down at the grass. “Ah. Well, I suppose that would make it significantly more difficult for him to be married to a woman, hm?”

Kali giggled. “Considerably. But now you understand why his father is so hard on him and less so on my husband…”

Pomni crossed her arms over knees. “What an odious little man… Things have been so difficult for Jax. I really had no idea. Even now that he’s out of that house, I worry his father will try and keep him ensnared. It’s no wonder he-”

Pomni stopped herself.

“It’s no wonder he..?” Kali asked, raising her brow.

Pomni thought a moment. Kali could be trusted. She may have even been the only one in this family that could be trusted to keep a secret, since she was away from Drexl’s grasp. Altonicus maybe, but… it felt better to confide in one of her sex. Besides, Kali trusted her enough to tell her about Osvaldo.

“You aren’t to tell your husband, but… Jax has a weakness for laudanum. I only found out three days ago, but… it is quite severe. I stumbled onto a bottle when I was looking for an alkalizer. He must have stashed it away for a trip like this. He takes it upwards of four times a day…”

Kali put a hand to her mouth and looked away.

“I’m dreadfully sorry I’ve burdened you with this, but I needed to tell someone. He told me he became addicted when Boone threw him off of a bridge. I’m hoping to wean him off the awful tonic, but… I don’t know if I can do it alone. His father certainly won’t help. Perhaps you could help when the ceremony is over?”

Kali covered her face. Pomni immediately sat up straighter.

“Oh dear, Kali, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have said-” Pomni began.

“No… No, I’m the one that should be apologizing…” The rabbit’s cheeks were streaked with tears.

“What? You haven’t done anything, Kali…” Pomni looked around, hoping no one else would come along and see them.

“Yes I have…Pomni, It was me. I gave him opium.”

Pomni’s eyes widened slightly. “Kali..?”

Kali wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Jax was in so much pain after he broke all those bones, and the pediatric tonics that Alton had for him did no good… They weren’t meant for that level of pain, but he wasn’t allowed to administer opium to a 17 year old…”

Another chain of sobs broke through. “I only gave him enough so he could get some sleep at night… I didn’t know it would be so addictive… I found him in Alton’s drug storeroom after his arm was taken out of the sling, sweaty and wide-eyed, digging around for it… I didn’t want Alton to find out and Allfather forbid Drexl found out… I’ve been giving him some to keep the withdrawals away for 4 years…”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I have!” Kali shouted. “I’ve told the Gray Sisterhood in confession for years now… I even told the one on this island just so I could have someone new to cry to… Alton would divorce me if he ever found out, and I could be arrested for giving opioids to a minor…I-I just wanted him to be able to sleep…”

Pomni put a hand to her mouth. The day of the downpour. Why Kali went to the church and why Sister Ragatha looked so upset when Pomni first saw her… Why Jax was out looking for her, he might have been paranoid Kali would tell someone… the whole reason she came to the island that day in the first place, to give him-!

“Oh, Kali…” Pomni said.

This only made the older rabbitwoman cry harder. Pomni hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m a fiend…” Kali sobbed.

“No, Kali, you’re not… You only wanted to help…”

Kali sobbed into Pomni’s shoulder. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh… Kali, it’s going to be alright… Don’t cry… .” The gentleness in Pomni’s voice surprised even herself.

Pomni looked at the Rooker estate, rubbing her sister’s back.

“I’m going to help you fix this.”

[sketchedboba]

"A Green Queen" AU

Chapter V

Mario got off the yellow Yoshi and looked around at the desert land.

He had told Peach that he wanted to take a trip for himself, so that he could learn how to cook meals from different lands. She hesitantly agreed, since she was a bit worried his journey was misguided. All she could do was hope he wouldn't cause any trouble for his brother.

Mario smiled as he checked the map she supplied him and remembered to avoid the Sphinx Prince's palace, for now at least. "Alright! Let's-a go!"

He hopped back on the Yoshi once he fed him some fruit and rode into the desert land.

The sun beat down on him as they trailed, in the distance he spotted a few swaying cacti looking creatures, "What..the-"

Before he could finish, they dug into the ground and began to slither into his direction.

Acting quickly, he lowered his yoshi and waited for the right moment. Once the creature started to raise its head, he ordered the yoshi to leap. They floated down as another tried to strike at the two, but Mario quickly changed direction.

A few more cacti became alerted and headed over to aid the two attacking.

"What the... Been a while since we've had tourists, huh?"

Mario landed the yoshi but they skirted before darting back and forth to avoid the clustering cacti. Their blank stares only made him more uneasy as they swayed.

"ALRIGHT! BACK IT UP!", a voice yelled.

A rover tumbled through the Pokey and grabbed Mario and his yoshi to put into the back seat. The group retreated and the Pokeys swayed and jittered, trying to regroup.

"Woah! Thanks for that!", Mario noted as he sat down properly in the front seat. He turned back to check if everything was ok and the yoshi simply sat down trying to take care of his wounds. "Um, who are you by the way?"

"The name's Daisy! I was just passing when I saw you were in a bit of trouble!", She smiled as she made a sharp turn.

"Oh- Well, thanks! I was just trying to get through to this Kingdom, but I guess it's not easy to get through..", he huffed.

Daisy laughed a bit, "Right! The Pokeys aren't normally this agitated, so a sandstorm probably just ended and they're on edge."

He looked confused, "A bit?! If I'd known, I could've taken at least two on."

"That's the spirit!", She chuckled. "Anyways, where were you planning on going? I could drop you off!"

"Really?! Thanks, I was heading to the Easton Kingdom! I needed a few herbs and vegetables from there!", He yelled as she sped up. The engine riving as she did.

"It's on the way! You're a cook?!"

"Not really.. I-I'm more of a plumber! I fix pipes!"

"Oh shit! Nice, I could use that kind of help at the castle!"

"Wait, you have a castle?!"

Before he could get an answer he saw a large wisp of sand in the distance, despite its slow looking movements, he could tell they were heading straight for it

"Buckle up and put on those goggles!", Daisy ordered. "OH, AND DON'T FORGET THE MASKS! Unless you want sand for lunch!"

Mario nodded and got him and his yoshi buckled up and ready.

"ALRIGHT, HERE WE GO YOU TWO!"

"AAAAAAAAAA!!"

The ship started floating over some rocky terrain. A few statue-like figures were stomping about only to stop and settle into the soil.

Luigi wore a hot pressed dress with a jacket encrusted with green flames along the sides. The skirt part of the dress matched the lime green on the jacket, the lace of the dress shimmering with jewels sewn into it. He adorned a simple yet large crown, several sapphires rung the sides which a few Goombas noted brought a glimmer to his eyes.

He was fiddling with his lace gloves as he waited in the living room and paced. Kamek was giving him a rundown of everything, trying to calm the Queen's nerves.

"How many kingdoms-"

"Four."

"C-Correct, and their former ruler was-"

"Princess Daisy."

"This happened because-"

"Because King Totomesu was tired of being subjected to only his kingdom and overthrew the princess with his army as well as the other kingdoms' rulers coming to a truce to claim him as king."

"Good... So after.. the-"

"They pledged their allegiance to the King, but as he came into power, he fell ill and placed his power and magic into a locket. His son, Prince Khufo, took over as his father passed and harnesses his father's power in the locket."

Kamek blinked, "You've learned this all rather quickly! If you've studied and memorized the rest of the history, you'll be just fine during the meeting!"

Luigi sighed, "I don't know.. making decisions for an entire kingdom?! I can't-"

"You must. You'll do fine! Plus, you're not alone in all of it, the King will be there to help you!"

He face flushed, "R-Right.. Him. Where.. is he?"

"I last saw him in the hot springs room. Probably to think things over, calm some nerves.", Kamek said as he closed his book.

"Hot springs?! At a time like this?"

Kamek raised a brow and grinned, "I WAS going to get him, since we're almost there... But I need to pack some potions just in case anything breaks out!"

Luigi already knew what he was going to say next, but he still cracked a bit of a smile before clearing his throat. "I-I'll go get him!"

"Of course, your majesty. Great thinking!"

The Queen pulled the door in before walking out into the black cobblestone hall. His heels, that he somehow managed, clacked with every step. Spotty moved from their post at the door to follow closely, "Going for a walk, your majesty?"

"Sort of? Do you know where the hot springs are?"

"Oh! They're in a lower level of the ship!"

"Lower level?!", Luigi paused. He'd explored the whole top level, and knew that the ship was large enough to hold a sizeable army, but he didn't know it could go any deeper.

"Yes, your majesty. It's closer to the lava powering and heating the ship, so it makes a good place to put the hot tubs!"

He rubbed his chin for a moment and headed towards his room, "I want to change out of this first, if it's even hotter down there.. I don't want to sweat out this dress.."

Spotty nodded and followed along, "I didn't say it before, but you do look wonderful, your majesty!", The Koopa noted. They became a little bashful waiting for Luigi's response.

The Queen smiled as they walked, "T-Thank you! You're too kind.."

Spotty's face flushed a bit and their tiny tail wagged from Luigi's smile. "I-It's the least I could do, especially since you've been just as kind to me.."

Luigi turned to them and patted their head, his dress flowing behind him as he did. Spotty's head retracted into their shell as a few Goombas passed by on their patrol. Luigi waved to them as they bowed and headed on their way.

Once they walked further down the hall, Spotty lifted their head.

"Is something wrong?"

"The King wouldn't normally... Show much affection for his guards.. W-We know he's proud once we do our jobs right, but you shouldn't..."

Spotty tried to find the right words once he noticed Luigi's immense confusion. They sighed and shook their head, "Nevermind..."

"Are you sure? You can explain it to me later once we get back to the ship."

Spotty nodded.

"Alright, let's go then."

Bowser's head was partially submerged in the steaming water. His nostrils flared and his scales loosened as he was in blissful ease.

Small bubbles floated to the surface from the crack in his shell and he let out a low rumble as his body drifted in the water.

He enjoyed coming in here to get his mind off of things, he was still furious that the human touched his shell, but even angrier that something stirred in him when he felt the vibrations from the tiny palm graze the crack.

It only reminded him of the stupid brother that caused such an injury, but despite it, he couldn't blame Luigi for it.

The more he reflected, the more the feelings ached and confused him. His thoughts only trailed more into thinking about the Princess.

'What do I have to do to make her mine..?'

He huffed, a silly grin plastered on his face as he began to rumble. "What a beautiful..star..", he sighed.

Luigi rushed over, tripping on his shoelace as he looked up at the Koopa guards in front of the door. Spotty helped him up as he dusted himself off. "I-I need to see the King."

"Sorry, your majesty. We were ordered strictly to not let ANYONE pass! Especially you."

"Uh-huh... Let me in."

"Your majesty, we cannot let you in."

Luigi took a deep breath, "Please, let me see the King. It's urgent."

The Koopas looked at each other and one sighed, "Okay, your majesty.....". They started to move aside as their claws pulled the large doors open.

Luigi could spot Bowser's horns sticking out. He heard the doors creak and slowly rose from the hot springs. Steam emitted from his opened scales as he combed his claw through his hair. The streaks of water dripped down his shell, each drop seeping into the crevices of his underbelly.

"Mama mia...", The small plumber gulped.

"What do you want?", He grumbled.

Snapping back into it, Luigi lifted his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. "W-We need to go...to..", he whispered.

A Koopa holding a pile of towels brushed past him, and lifted the pile to Bowser's claw.

"Is that it?", Bowser scoffed. He took the towel and started to wipe his face, "I'm already aware that we're almost at the palace. You didn't need to remind me."

"We should get ready just in-"

"Uh huh, you mean YOU should get ready, I don't see you dressed.", He gawked.

"I was dressed, but I had to come get your stupid,...scaly, ass out of the hot springs!"

"I don't need you to take care of me, Greenie. Besides, you should worry more about how you'll make ME look.", the beast replied. He stammered past him and as he got to the door, he glared down at the guards who kneeled down before him.

"I told you not to let anyone in."

"S-Sorry, your highness! His majesty was persistent in seeing you.."

Bowser took a look back at Luigi, "And you listened? I gave you an order!"

Luigi rolled his eyes and hurried over, "Quit it! I told them to, so i-if you're going to get upset at them. You'll have to get through me first!"

The monster's eyes lit up as Luigi held out his arms to shelter the kneeling Koopas. They slightly glanced at each other in confusion, but kept their heads low just in case.

"Fine.", The beast replied. He took a deep breath and a bit of smoke brushed against the Queen's mustache as he did. Bowser turned away and started down the corridor to the stairs, he didn't want to fight now especially since he could careless about two foot soldiers.

Luigi coughed from the smoke and was quickly swiping it from his face. He looked over his shoulder to see the two guards looking up at him, weary of him.

"Are you two ok?", he said as he reached out both hands to help him up.

The two nodded and reached out hesitantly. One paused, noticing the bandages on the mid section of Luigi's right arm.

He noted the hesitation and trailed his eyes, "Oh, this? Don't worry, it's supposed to seal up in a few days.". Luigi lifted the arm slowly and patted his flimsy muscles, "I'm stronger than I look, a little tug won't hurt! I'll need to gain strength back into it anyways."

He chuckled a bit, putting the guard at ease as they stood up. "T-Thank you. Your majesty..."

"It's fine, really! I just wanted to make sure you two didn't get hurt on my behalf... Unlike the other guy from last week..", Luigi gulped. He remembered himself and Spotty carrying the Dry Bones to his chambers, trying to put it back together before they inevitably fixed themselves.

"I'll help you to your room, my Queen", Spotty chimed in.

"No, I can head back myself, I think. Can you make sure these two get cleaned up?", He retorted and pointed to their scuffed knees.

"But- !"

"I'll be ok..", Luigi smiled weakly. He felt a bit lightheaded from the encounter and just wanted some room to think.

"Yes, your majesty.."

The ship started to descend at the side of the palace, the Troopa spilled out of it slowly as they filed into formation. The Prince of Sarasaland strutted out and planted his behind in front of the fountain, unimpressed. His locket glistened in the sunlight and reflected off of the water.

Kamek appeared at the head of the troops and began to announce, "Now presenting! The King and Queen of the Koopas!"

Bowser stepped down with Luigi's hand in his claw. He waited as Luigi lifted the dress and gently stepped down, "Wow... Tough crowd..", he whispered.

The two made their way down the column, Spotty trailing next to one of Bowser's own guards, and a few murmurs were made as they walked passed.

"Quite the entrance... A bit much, don't you think, Kingy?", Prince Khufo scoffed. He was checking his claws for dirt, unable to really give his attention to the Royals.

"Young Prince, we should just get to talking about a share of the-"

A small claw was quickly placed on Bowser's lips, making Luigi flinch when he saw Bowser's fury.

"You look SO tense and I think you and your husband could use a nice spa day. We'll get to the boring stuff soon."

"We had a deal about-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, unless you want to feel the wrath of my father and MY magic!"

Bowser grumbled and glared down at Kamek who cleared his throat. "If you don't mind your highness, we should just get to talk about the land distributions, we have-"

"Ew, what is that?! Why is he so old?! Those wrinkles are going to get worse in this heat! Come inside and we'll talk!", the Prince yelped. His paws were shifting the MagiKoopa's cheeks back, trying to diminish the wrinkles.

Luigi chuckled and stopped when he felt Bowser's grip tighten. He looked up at the beast, "He's a kid... in charge of an empire.. this is probably one of the few times he's had non.. threatening allies over? Cut him some slack."

"Slack? What is-.. Non threatening?! Does my army look like a joke to you?!"

"N-No, I just meant, he doesn't know others his age! Geez..". Luigi slipped his hand away from the large Koopa's grip and started up the stairs to the Prince.

Bowser rubbed his temple and clenched his eyes shut, "Think of the Princess... Think of the Princess.."

Luigi slowly walked over slipping a bit as his heels hit the polished marble while he tried to give a welcoming smile, he knelt down to the young Sphinx's level.

His dress puffing around him like a beautiful blooming flower, "E-Excuse me, your highness. We'd love to go to your spa... it sounds like f-fun! Plus Mr. Grumpy could use it..", he winked.

Prince Khufo's face lit up and he bounded onto Luigi. The two tumbled backwards and the Koopa guards immediately stormed the stairs as they saw their Queen in danger.

Luigi quickly sat up, raising his arm to the troops, even seeing Bowser mid-lunge. "I-I'm fine, he was just excited!"

The Prince sat up then backed up a bit, "You folks really don't get out much, huh? It's all battles to you."

Luigi nodded, "They can party, but they're not much for tranquility~"

Prince Khufo snorted, "Well, whatever, let's get going!"

Bowser grumbled as they started toward the palace doors.

"WOOO! What a storm! Are you two good?!"

A pile of sand slowly dusted away as she yelled that. Mario shook off the rest and looked back at his yoshi, "Uh, Are we in the Easton Kingdom?"

"Yeah, I'll drop you off at the cavern market!"

"Cavern?!"

"Yup, we'll be there in a few shakes!"

"Well alright!", he noted. He sat up determined and fixed his sun hat. "If I haven't already said it, thanks for taking us through the desert. If you don't mind me asking, are you perhaps the lost-"

The dune buggie jolted as her foot stepped on the acceleration, Mario held onto his hat, frazzled. He tried to ask again, but was met with several leaves and flora.

"We're here!", she smiled. The mist and leaves cleared slightly, as she slowed into view of a large waterfall with two large Tokotoko statues on each side. Mario's lips separated in awe when he gazed up at the floating brick platforms, topped with spikes and rolling stone surrounding it.

"Is..how do we get closer?"

"Well, if you've made it all the way here, you'll know the only way over there isssss?"

"Oh no.."

"Yup!", She said cheerily. The buggie beeped as she locked it and took out a small red mushroom. "I have some if you need, they're under the seat. I'll see you on the other side!"

Before he could get a word in, she took off. Running to the edge and bounding towards the platform, as she glided, the air became filled with her laughter. Jumping and twirling to avoid spikes and several falling Ganchans. Her heart racing from the thrill of nearly dodging the heavy boulders.

Mario watched, only remembering a similar display from the Princess a few years back. He grumbled a bit remembering the mushroom he had to eat in order to join up with Daisy. "Just a bit more... I'll be there soon Luigi.."

He reached over to her car seat and took up a mushroom, once he ate it he hopped out the side and stared daringly at the course ahead.

His yoshi yawned and hopped out, it ran past him, not before Mario gripped his reigns. The two bounded off, the mustachioed man barely missing the spikes as he opened his legs.

"Hey hey! Slow down!", He yelped. He could feel his stomach churn, yet the feeling of light, cool droplets hitting his face and the bits of sunlight dancing on his pores were worth it.

As he quickly got onto the yoshi, it began to float down towards a Ganchan and bounced off of it before it shuffled it's feet to float downward.

Daisy smiled and crossed her arms, "Cheating much?! Aye there stranger!". She teased.

He rolled his eyes as the landed, "Well, I gotta keep the lil guy fit!"

His yoshi bucked him off and shoved him over as Mario tumbled over.

"Right..~", she mocked. "Anyways, follow me!"

Mario tried his best to wipe the rich soil off of his pants before following her. The three started getting closer to the falls and as he was going to stop her, she went through the watery blanket.

"Is...this safe?! Hey!"

She poked her head through, "It's fine, plus you're going to thank me for getting water on those clothes. The sun'll dry it off!"

"Sun?"

'In a cavern?'

He lifted his sun hat slightly, trying to shelter himself from the water, but to no avail. As he tried to wipe his face, the yoshi shook off right next to him and snickered. "Oh c'mon!"

The yoshi snickered as he walked over to Daisy. Mario opened his eyes to see crystals glowing over small stands. Tokotoko began trading with Shy guys and Koopas, "The residents mostly do trades, but if you have coins then you'll get your worth in gold."

Mario was still in disbelief as he was looking around at the vendors, keeping pace with Daisy, "Wow... Are you also here for some things?"

"Yeah, just a few things. I actually have to get a trade to do myself, so if you'll excuse me", she said as she placed her hair in a ponytail. "Meet back at the waterfall entrance when you're done. Unless this is where we part?"

"uh huh...". Mario bumped into her, still taking in the cavern spectacle. Daisy grabbed his shoulders, forcing his attention as they met eye to eye.

"Waterfall. When you're done. Got it?"

"Yup-"

"Good!", She let go and headed down the row of stands.

The yoshi stopped beside Mario and nudged him slightly. "Yeah yeah, I know... We need the ingredients the professor used to... Ah, I think I see the powder. Let's go!"

A ripple from the murky cream tinted water formed when Luigi's toe was dipped in slightly. He quickly retreated, gripping his towel closer once he felt the water burn it a bit. "Ow!"

Bowser entered the room stretching and groaned, "I doubted you there pipsqueak, but the massage was nice."

Luigi only pulled the towel up further over his chest once he heard a low growl coming from behind him.

"You gettin' in?"

"I-In a moment.. it's a bit too hot still."

Bowser crouched down and dipped his tail in, "this is barely piping. Even Junior's kiddy scales could handle this."

"Well human skin isn't as rugged, plus my arm-"

Bowser grumbled and swiped his tail under Luigi's feet causing the shaking man to slip into the water with a splash.

Luigi flailed for a bit before finding some footing near the rim of the springs. His injured arm was barely able to keep him up on the polished sandstone. "Are you insane?!", He spat.

"You're in aren't you?", Bowser chuckled. "You're welcome."

The Queen began to move his soaked bangs from his eyes, revealing Bowser's snout slightly closer to him. He blinked, almost wanting to push back, yet he stayed as the scarlet eyes peered down at him.

"......Thanks"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just get in."

Bowser turned his head away as he laid beside the large pool of water. His side profile which revealed little scars on his lower jaw and nose, "Mmm, I don't want to."

"Ok, then do you.. want to talk?"

He grumbled and closed his eyes. Luigi side and turned his back to him.

"You're polite in public appearances, but any other time it's just... Rage and stupidity."

"Stupidity?!"

"I-I meant like .... naive"

Bowser lifted his head and grumbled, "Do you take me for a fool?!"

"No, sorry.."

Luigi began to hear his father's voice begin to stir.

"Do you think I don't understand shit others say?!"

'Do you think this is funny? This is your career and your letting your brother ruin this for you?!'

Luigi slowly sank a bit, "N-No I just-"

"You don't know what -"

'Your Mama and I have done to get you boys a decent life and a good education! You got steady jobs why let your brother-'

"-He drags you around and it was my troops that found out about-"

"LET ME TALK!"

Bowser snapped his jaw shut as he saw Luigi's arm raise to his eyes, his shoulders slumped, and his head drooping. He got up and slowly padded over to him, "I.."

"Look, I don't think you're dumb, just a bit narcissistic", he sniffles. His voice was shaky and little tears rolled down his face. ", You're loud, obnoxious, and the more I think about when I said yes to your LITERAL threat and I see everything.. I-I don't even know how to process it."

Bowser bit his lip, he wasn't sure how to console him and wasn't sure he wanted to. He remembered when any of his kids cried, he'd sit and listen. Getting up, he strode over to the pool, slowly sank in and moved in behind him.

Luigi stiffened, he didn't know what to do, but the tears kept rolling down. "I-I'm... I don't feel.."

"Let's... just talk."

He blinked after hearing those words and took a few deep breaths. He could feel a bit of Bowser's belly rising and retreating as he stammered to breathe.

"would telling you..how I cracked my shell stop you...weird crying?"

"Weird?", Luigi chuckled wiping his tears.

"Your facial hair droops and your eyes bulge, it's gross. Don't get me started on that weird snorting."

He laughed, "Like you haven't cried before!"

"Nope!"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you want the story or not?"

"Yeah..", he smiled. His shoulders relaxed a bit, but he still made sure to cover his scars.

"I was getting ready for my coronation as King. There were lights, a cake, presents, even a rock band playing my written theme song, in my honor . It was epic, of course."

'Theme song?'

"Anyways, the gates finally opened and as I was making my way to the podium to be crowned, the carpet rudely ruined my awesome entrance. I ended up tripping on a hole my claws got stuck in and normally I'd land on my stomach."

"Mhm..", Luigi replied. He cupped a small pool of water into his palms.

"But I was trying to save it with a shell spin and instead of fully landing on my spikes I hit my side and a small crack formed..", he choked. Admitting such a failure caused some heat to rise in his face, a light red glow tinting his scales.

Luigi snorted, "And this was the carpet's fault?"

"Yes! If my subjects had maintained the only thing properly, I wouldn't have ruined such a glamorous piece of art!"

"Right, you consider your shell to be art?"

"My body is a temple, I'm a chiseled creation known as perfection."

".......You have quite the ego..", Luigi added.

The Prince strutted near an entrance across from the two. "Hey you two! I hope I didn't ruin a moment~"

Luigi blinked once he remembered that Bowser was behind him, naked, and quickly swam to his side. "N-No, your highness. We're not-"

"Modesty, I get it. Regardless, I'm glad you two are enjoying yourselves. I actually plan to step out for a bit, the Mudai Kingdom is having a few issues and their ruler wishes to meet on common grounds." His tail swayed with his words as he grinned.

"I'm afraid we can't stay that long while you play King. I only agreed to come this far if matters were dealt with in a couple of hours.", Bowser growled, deterring from the countless marriage comments.

"Ugh, fine. We're doing this the hard way, and right when I was trying to be a good host", he pouted. Shuffling the locket between his claws a dark purple aura surrounded it as his paws waved around it. He was murmuring something causing his eyes to glow with the same magic.

"Kamek!"

"On it , your highness!".

The MagiKoopa readied his wand as the Prince kept chanting. Khufo took a deep breath and the room filled with the foggy darkness. Kamek shot towards the Prince, but the locket simply absorbed the magic.

Luigi's eyes widened as he rested his palm on Bowser's claw, slowly swimming closer to him. Despite his impatience, he knew fighting with a potential ally would get him nowhere. Besides, he had to keep the green brother safe for now.

"Fine.. we'll wait."

All the magic and chanting stopped, the locket hit Prince Khufo's furry chest, and he happily clapped his front paws together. "Splendid! We can discuss this tomorrow, hm?"

"......Sure", Bowser growled. He hated the wait, since he had other matters to attend to, but eased his scales once he felt Luigi's body slump against his claw in relief.

The Prince padded out with a grin. "My assistant will show you two to the guest room for the time being, ta-ta!"

Luigi felt his face heat up, "He means separate rooms... Right?"

Bowser rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and he even scheduled a visit with your brother!"

"Really?!", He beamed. His eyes glistened in excitement.

Bowser blinked slowly with a smirk on his face. "No."

Luigi frowned only giving Bowser the satisfaction of his little prank, "You cruel turtle..."

Bowser gave a hearty laugh, "The one and only~". He felt a bit of light-heartedness wash over him after teasing the little plumber and the tension eased between them slightly.

Spotty was near the door watching, they frowned seeing Luigi's eyes light up once he splashed the King in revenge.

'He shows the King such kindness.. how do I make him see me?'