#one was labelled ''sold as is'' and was missing a few lids and the other (in a display case) was complete w mini copper pans

[reginaofdoctorwho]

gotta make a list of stuff to look for next time i go to antique stores. if i had one of those blacklight flashlights i'd put uranium dishware on it but alas, i don't and can't test any.

anything anyone wants me to try to get pictures of?

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

"The candles are made locally, though, which I suppose is nice for customers."

Dean, still holding the log cabin one, gave Cas a thoughtful look. "You buying this one?"

Cas blinked. "No."

"Hmm," Dean said again.

"What?" Cas cocked his head.

deancas ust, snippetfic fluff for the last day of winter 

Please see also: this wonderful comic @clenster made ❤️

Cas never ceased to be amazed by how many stores sold candles. While Dean and Sam spoke to the rattled florist, Cas investigated the large window at the front of the store. The pane had cracked in the exact shape of a man, presumably the missing employee, and the sill was lined with candles in heavy glass containers, none of which – suspiciously? – had been damaged. 

One of the candles featured a label depicting a small, quaint looking log cabin in a snowy forest. It was the sort of scene Cas admittedly was drawn to. Something about a cabin in the woods appealed to him; he could imagine himself there with happiness, sitting in a comfortable swing on a porch and watching deer be nosy at the treeline. If he imagined someone else sitting on the swing beside him, maybe even with his hand in Cas's, he and Cas wrapped up together in a thick old quilt, well, that harmed no-one.

"'Haunted Cabin'?" Dean, having snuck up alongside Cas, picked up the candle in question. "That doesn't give you any clue about the scent." He took off the metal lid and sniffed dramatically. "Hmm."

"The artificial pinene and limonene molecules are reasonably reminiscent of evergreen trees," Cas said. He could smell the candle from several inches away.

"When did candles start having themes?" Dean muttered, putting the lid back on.

"Apparently these candles have stories," Cas informed him, having already read about the Black Death and Cursed Looking-Glass varieties at the other end of the windowsill; they smelled like fake blackberries and melted plastic, respectively.

"That got anything to do with this?" Dean pointed at the damaged window and then threw a thumb over his shoulder. By a refrigerator full of loud daisies, the florist was dabbing her nose with a tissue. A few feet away Sam was checking his phone and somehow still exuding puppy-dog sympathy in her direction.

"I don't think so," Cas said. "The candles are made locally, though, which I suppose is nice for customers." 

Dean, still holding the log cabin one, gave Cas a thoughtful look. "You buying this one?"

Cas blinked. "No."

"Hmm," Dean said again. 

"What?" Cas cocked his head.

"It's just, you like cabins." Dean acted this like it was a well known, much discussed fact, and just because it was true didn't make the statement less disconcerting to Cas. When Cas declined to respond, Dean said, "You've checked out at least three different books on the topic from the public library back home, buddy."

"They were…" Cas felt, if not judged, then caught out, and hoped it didn't show on his face. "The books were interesting. Relaxing to thumb through." He wanted to leave it at that.

"Hey, a little cabin by a lake in the snow?" Dean shrugged good naturedly. "Nice crackling fire going in the hearth. Maybe you'd take a short hike and then have a good drink afterwards to warm up? Maybe." He put the candle back on the sill. "Maybe there'd be someone there to warm up with, you know?" He wasn't quite looking at Cas, but he wasn't quite looking away either. "Sounds pretty damn perfect to me." 

His eyes landed on Cas's more fully, something vulnerable in his gaze that pressed an ache into Cas's throat.

After a long moment, Cas decided it was safe to say, "Yes. I think so too." The quiet stretched between them, comfortably.

"I might have a lead," Sam said, having appeared like an apparition. 

Cas was probably imagining the disappointment that flitted across Dean's expression. "The florist was helpful?" he asked Sam.

"Ah, yeah," Dean said, sounding slightly sheepish. To Sam he asked, "You already found her ex-husband's address?"

"In a manner of speaking: according to the online obituary, he's buried in a cemetery over in Caneyville," Sam said in a lowered voice. He tipped his head toward the front of the store. "Pretty sure she doesn't know he died last year."

"Oof." Dean glanced at Cas and at Sam and back to Cas. "We can go check out the graveyard while Sam hits up the coroner's office."

"Lucky me," Sam said, rolling his eyes before he headed to the door.

Dean and Cas followed, falling into a matched stride. Dean's arm brushed against Cas's at least once more than was strictly coincidental. By the time they were out on the sidewalk, Dean had shivered a couple of times and moved even closer, like allowing any space between himself and Cas was risking a wind tunnel on such a cold late winter day. They didn't talk in the car. Dean's hand found its way into Cas's anyway.

[oceanera12]

Linked Wilderness (Part 1)

More Linked Universe featuring Wild and his sister! ... Wait, what sister?

I was going to do Sky next but this idea popped into my head and I couldn’t type it fast enough. Whoops?

“Soooo...” Twilight tapped his foot impatiently, “Are we in your world or not, cub?”

Wild frowned, trying his Sheikah slate for the hundredth time. “I mean, that’s Twin Peaks and that certainly looks like my Hyrule Castle in the distance.” He slammed his hand against the tablet, “But this thing isn’t working and there should be a shrine right there,” he pointed at an empty clearing near their current stable. “Also, I don’t recognize anyone here.”

“And that’s odd because...?” Sky asked.

Wild blushed. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve talked to everyone in existence in my Hyrule. Usually the strangers are Yiga in disguise. But even the stable owner is different!”

“So...” Time stood up from sharpening his blade. He slung the sword on his back and then crossed his arms, “This Hyrule could be yours in the future. So... a new hero?”

Legend rolled his eyes, “Seriously? We haven’t had a new member in months!”

“But it is a possibility,” Four replied, his eyes flashing violet for a second. “Maybe we should talk to someone?”

Wild hesitated. “Stables have people that come and go. The owner might have sold the place to another person. Not to mention that many people are coming back to Hyrule because the Calamity is gone. Let’s head to Hateno. It’s only half a day from here. We can figure it out from there.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Wild was very confused. On one hand, this was very much his Hyrule. On the other, there were too many differences to ignore.

The ruins looked “newer”, there were less travelers (and those that were traveling were very suspicious of the nine-band group), it felt like there were more enemies, and there were guardians.

Full-working guardians that wanted nothing more than to kill Wild again.

He really hated guardians.

Therefore the alleged “half-day” turned into a full day, with the battered and beaten group grumbling up to Hateno. No serious injuries (Four had most likely broken his ankle) but a night of rest sounded much too nice after the insanity of the day.

A blonde woman stood guard at the foot of town. Wild frowned at the sight of her. He did not recognize her. She wore a light pink tunic, tied with a turquoise sash. There was some old knight armor on her right arm and a light chainmail skirt that went to her knees. Under the mail, she wore simple trousers and boots. A sword was strapped to her side, along with a quiver and bow on her back.

The blonde watched the group approach, clearly on guard. “Halt and state your business!” She called out when they reached a respectful distance.

Wild stepped forward, “We’re looking for a place to rest.” He was not sure if he should bring up the fact that he owned a house in the village. He was not even sure if the house would be his, at this point.

The girl’s eyes widened at Wild. Her mouth dropped open and the color drained from her skin. Her drawn sword dropped every so slightly. She did not speak for a moment, only gaping is shock. 

Wild shifted uncomfortably. “Uh... are you alright, miss?”

Her expression turned hard, her next words a hiss. “How dare you.”

Wild flinched, despite himself. Something inside his gut twisted into tight knots. He didn’t like the girl upset. He wanted her to smile. His words were stuck in his throat and when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

The girl brandished her sword at the group, her intentions very clear. “Leave now and I’ll grant you your lives you filthy traitors!”

Time put out his hands in surrender. “We’re not here to fight, nor do we wish you harm. But we have injured and need--”

“We don’t help Yiga here,” the girl hissed, her sword raising again. “Go back to your filth.”

Wild’s brain was too confused to make sense of what was happening.

Twilight stepped forward, “We’re no Yiga.” His gaze was suspicious. “Although, I’m beginning to suspect you are.”

The girl physically recoiled at the accusation. “I’m not the one with a fake hero!”

Legend and Twilight both growled in anger at that comment, the latter stepping in front of Wild in a protective matter. Several of the other Links came to the immediate defense of Wild, and at least one of them drew a sword.

“Link has given more--”

“--you little--”

“--dare you insinuate something so--”

“Wild is a good man!”

The girl was practically radiating anger now, her sword replaced with a bow at the blink of the eye. She roared, “MY BROTHER IS DEAD!” then loosed a warning shot that missed Hyrule by an inch. “NOW LEAVE BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!”

Wild’s scrambling mind came to a screeching halt at that.

Brother?

The rest of the group had a similar reaction, with most of them stepping back a few paces. Wind looked like he had been slapped, “You never said you had a sister!”

Wild’s head was starting to hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and heard his current sword slam into the ground. “I... I don’t...” His hands came up and grasped his hair, “I don’t... I don’t... I don’t.” The headache suddenly spiked into a piercing flare. He dropped to his knees and actually screamed at the white, hot, dagger that was attempting to cut through the memory fog.

Someone was talking but all Wild could see was white and pain. This wasn’t right. Nothing was right. What in Hylia’s name was happening to him?

The last thing he remembered before succumbing to the white was a very soft voice.

“Big brother?”

--------------------------------------------------------

It took much too long to get Wild inside his house.

Wind was helping the injured Four hobble across the wooden bridge to the very familiar house in Hateno... only this one did not have a sign that labeled the owner. In fact, this one had a horse in the stables.

Said horse cried out at the sight of the unconscious Wild. She trotted forward and blocked the path, licking and nuzzling his face in concern.

The sister hadn’t said a word since the gates, but she did so now. “Epona, dear, we need to get him inside.”

Wind suspected he wasn’t the only one who’s eyebrows shot up at that name, but no one said anything about it.

Epona nuzzled Wild one more time before trotting back her food.

“Good girl,” the sister smiled. She opened the front door. “Lay him near the fireplace. I’ll start up a fire.”

--------------------------------------------------------

It took time to explain the group to Wild’s sister. She hadn’t interrupted once during the tale, nor had she stopped dabbing Wild’s forehead with a wet cloth. Time took point on the story, with people chiming in when they thought it important. Twilight explained what he knew about Wild’s adventure, including the amnesia thing.

The sister had taken it all in, in silence. When the tale finally ended, she remained silent for a long time. Gentle hands traced the scars on Wild’s face, tears filling her eyes. “So... my brother is somewhere in a cave right now on the Great Plateau... asleep?”

Time hesitated for a moment, cursing whoever made the portals and Hylia who had dropped them in Wild’s world. They had just gone back about a hundred years. It explained the increased Guardian activity, the lack of Shekiah technology, and, of course, the long forgotten sister. “I would assume so, miss. Yes.”

She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks and a few broken sobs broke free.

Wind stood up and pulled the girl into a hug. She buried her face in his tunic and cried. The rest of the group quietly tended to Four’s leg and let her mourn.

The sobs slowed and she gently pulled back from Wind, a soft smile on her face. “Thank you... um...”

“Wind,” the boy smiled back. “I have a little sister too.”

“Oh!” the girl leaped to her feet. “Where are my manners, you all must be hungry! And I haven’t even introduced myself or asked for your names or--” she cut herself off, blushing furiously. “I’m Rhea**.”

The Links introduced themselves while Rhea started on dinner. Good cooking skills appeared to run in the family because Rhea’s stew smelled heavenly. Legend commented on this and Rhea smiled. “Mother taught Link, who then taught me.” Her smiled died a little. “I’m glad to hear he remembers some things...”

“What was Wild like? As a child?” Warriors leaned forward, eager.

Rhea thought for a moment. “Well... he’s always been a bit wild.” She laughed, “Did you know he was appointed as the princess’s knight because he deflected a laser from a runaway guardian with a pot lid?”

Twilight coughed up his stew. “He what???”

“It’s true!” Rhea laughed. “Link has always had an affinity for turning cooking tools into weapons.”

“Oh Hylia,” Legend groaned into his hands. “Please tell me the ladle thing hasn’t always been around?”

“It’s one of my first memories,” Rhea giggled. “Big brother Link keeping a stray moblin at bay with nothing but a wooden ladle... at least until father came in with his actual sword.”

Several Links groaned in annoyance. 

Perhaps it was the familiar sound that stirred Wild. He moaned loudly, causing a hush to fall over the group. Rhea grabbed a bowl of the stew and hurried to his side.

Wild opened his eyes, blinking into the fire. He jolted back from it out of pure instinct.

Rhea did not say anything, but put a hand on his shoulder. When Wild looked at her, she smiled and then gave him the bowl of stew. He looked at it suspiciously, before taking a small sip. His eyes widened and he quickly downed the rest of it.

Rhea appeared pleased. ‘I take that you like it?’

Wild started at the sign. It took a moment for the motions to process before nodding. ‘Yes.Thank you, ma’am.’

Rhea’s smile fell.

No one knew what to say. Wild looked around “his” house, clearly confused. The table was shoved in the corner, two beds were shoved against the wall, and there was no weapon displays on the walls.

“Where are we?” he asked no one in particular.

Twilight felt a stab of sympathy for Rhea. He knew all to well the pains of a sibling not recognizing you. “Cub... there’s no easy way to say this.” He pointed at the girl. “This is Rhea. Do you recognize her?”

Wild tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, clearly concentrating. “You were the guard at the gate.”

Rhea nodded, the expression stiff.

“Good,” Twilight encouraged. “Anything else about her seem... familiar?”

Wild squinted even harder. He rubbed his temples. After a long silence he finally sighed. “No.” He looked guilty. “Should I?”

Wind jumped up, clearly angry. “She’s your little sister, Wild! How could you ever forget her?”

“Wind!” Time reprimanded.

Wild blinked, looking back at Rhea. She waved, timidly before slipping into sign. ‘They told me what happened to you. I am sorry.’

“Are... are you really my sister?”

‘Yes,’ Rhea sighed heavily. ‘Although, it has been several years since your... disappearance. I have grown since then.’ She smiled. ‘I was only this tall when you last saw me.’ She held up her hand about a foot lower then her current height. ‘I was only eight. Now I am seventeen.’

Wild scrunched up his face again. He thought and thought and thought, before sighing. “I don’t remember... I’m sorry. Truely, I am.”

‘It’s fine,’ Rhea’s smile looked forced, but she did not appear angry. ‘I’ll go get more firewood. You rest.’ Then she turned and left the house.

Wild buried his face in his hands and moaned.

Twilight quickly sat down next to him. “It is okay, Wild. It is not your fault. She does not blame you for what happened.” He glared in the direction of Wind, “You have no control over your memories.”

Wind was receiving a very harsh and very quiet reprimand from both Warriors and Time. He looked sorry and had his head down in shame. The kid really needed to learn to think before he spoke.

Twilight turned his attention back to his prodege. “Think about it this way: now you can learn things about your past that you didn’t even know. Maybe the memories will come back, maybe they won’t. But do not give up hope. Alright?”

Wild looked down at his hands. He slowly looked up to reveal the tiniest of smiles. “Alright... Her name was Rhea, right?”

“Right,” Twilight smiled. “And you taught her to be an excellent cook.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

**-Okay, so I didn’t want to go with Linkle as the name (because who names their kids Link and Linkle. Seriously?) and I thought Aryll was the generic fall back for Wild’s sister’s name (just because Link’s spirit is reborn and always named Link does not mean his sister suffers the same fate). I did look into a few fanfictions to see what they went (and didn’t like any that I found), so I looked up names that meant something to do with nature. Rhea was the Greek goddess of “the mountain wilds” and I thought it suited her well enough.

On a semi-random note: did you all know that “Zelda” is a an old German name that means “dark battle”??? At least, according to the website I was on.

Also, stayed tuned for part 2!

Also part 3...

[therealjordan23]

HAPPY CANADA DAY, JORDAN (I remember you ranting about how Americans don’t use the letter ‘u’ in certain words, so right off the bat I knew u were Canadian😂🇨🇦🇨🇦) can you possibly write some debbigail? If you’re not too busy lighting up some fireworks?😆

LMAOOOOO, thank you!! And don’t worry, I always have time for some Debbigail :DD Enjoy!

ooo

"Dewey? What's this?" Webby questioned. 

"What's 'what'?" Dewey came up behind her and peered into the fridge.

Webby straightened up, an unmarked package of cheese in her hand. "This. What is it and where did you get it?"

Dewey's face lit up. "Oh, that's my special cheese!"

"'Special cheese'?" Webby wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What makes it special?"

"Sometimes the deli gets shipments where some labels have come off so they sell it for really cheap. I think that cost me a buck or something," Dewey explained, clearly proud of himself for finding ways to save money and still feed himself. "The boys know I'm on a tight budget so I always get first dibs."

"All right, well, I'm afraid 'the boys' are going to need to find a new sucker to sell their special cheese to," Webby said, walking over to the garbage and preparing to throw away the vile package.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Dewey asked, concern evident in his eyes. "That's perfectly good cheese!"

Webby turned to look at him. "Dewey, I'm not going to play nurse for you after you contract food poisoning from some dodgy cheese sold to you by the boys down at the deli."

Dewey's eyes gleamed. "You'd look really hot in a nurse's outfit, though. I'm sure we could find a naughty nurse costume for you. The hat…the skirt…the stethoscope…the blood pressure thingy…" His voice trailed off as he began to imagine the sight of Webby in a naughty nurse costume.

Webby took advantage of this momentary distraction and pushed the pedal down to lift the lid of the bin. However, before she had a chance to drop the cheese into the bin, she found herself wrapped in a bear hug from behind and lifted off of her feet.

"Dewey! What are you doing? Let me go!" Webby cried, struggling to break free from his grasp. Unfortunately, he had her arms pinned to her sides so tightly it was like she was in a straitjacket.

"Not until you hand over the cheese," Dewey grunted, walking backwards out of the galley kitchen.

"It's for your own good!" Webby protested, still trying in vain to free herself.

"And so is this." Dewey deposited her rather ungracefully on the couch and flopped down on top of her, effectively immobilizing her underneath him.

"Oof!" Webby's breath left her completely. But, before she was able to get it back, Dewey's fingers had found the perpetually ticklish spot just below her ribs and were exploiting the fact that she was completely helpless.

"Okay, okay! I give! Uncle! Uncle!" Webby shrieked, gasping for breath in between giggles.

"Not until you hand over the cheese," Dewey replied, his fingers poised to recommence the tickling.

"Fine," Webby grumbled, managing to pull the cheese out from where it had been squashed between her body and the couch.

"Thank you, darling," Dewey said, a note of triumph in his voice. He dropped a kiss on Webby's nose then rose. "What do you say to grilled cheese sandwiches for supper?"

Later that night, the two of them were curled up on the couch watching Ottoman Empire. Webby's head nestled on Dewey's lap while he absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her silky hair. A large bowl of popcorn and two glasses of red wine sat waiting on the small end table on the other side of Dewey.

"The show's really lost its edge," Dewey complained after a few minutes. "I remember five years ago when the sketches were actually funny. Now, it's just…crap."

"You're just saying that because they got rid of Randy," Webby said soothingly. 

As always, Webby fell asleep just after the newest Ottoman was built, and was woken up by Dewey nudging her gently. "Webbs? Sweetheart, it's time for bed."

"Is the show over?" she mumbled, struggling to sit up straight.

"Yeah, it is," Dewey laughed quietly.

"Did I miss anything?" Webby asked.

"Besides some terrible ottomans? Absolutely nothing. C'mon, beautiful. I'll tuck you in."

She automatically raised her hands so that he could pull her up. With a chuckle, he tugged her up onto her feet and into his arms, which automatically wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. She snuggled into his warm embrace and breathed in his scent. He pressed a feather-light kiss to her brow, and then to her cheek, before capturing her lips with his own. It was not a frantic, fiery kiss with clashing tongues and teeth but, rather, one that was slow and tender, making her feel treasured and desired more than any passionate kiss ever could.

She broke the kiss and laid her cheek on his chest; he rested his chin on her head and gave her a tight squeeze. Without words, he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers before leading her down the short corridor to their bedroom. Out of habit, his thumb automatically began to rub the band of the ring resting on the third finger of her left hand, almost to reassure himself that it was indeed still there and that she had actually agreed to be his wife. She smiled and squeezed his hand to silently reassure him that he had nothing to fear; he dropped a kiss on the top of her head in response.

"So, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Lena and Violet are meeting me for a late lunch before we go shopping for some new weapons. You?"

"Ottoman Empire marathon with Huey and Louie."

"Promise me you won't be trying to build ottomans for the next month like you did last time?"

"I will make no such promise."

"Aw, Dewey…"

"This is just who I am, you're going to have to love me as I am."

"Oh, the things we do for love," Webby said dramatically, half in jest, half in truth.

"Then it's a good thing you love me more than life itself," Dewey waggled his eyebrows at her before swooping in to steal another kiss.

"Always, Dewford," Webby smiled against his lips. "Always."

[unklarity]

Critical Role: Yasha

“I feel like I’m either very unlucky or cursed. And I don’t believe in luck.”

It's not very often I get the urge to make a box for a character from a series I've never seen/read/played before, but I clearly have a type, so I decided I needed to make a Yasha box.

Below is the description and explanation of all the contents of the box as well as more pictures!

I started out getting information about her from various places, including friends who DO watch Critical Role (I thank you all for your service and for answering my ridiculous questions) and then I got to work. I had a specific color scheme and plan in my head - for one, I wanted to use mainly flowers instead of an even mix of flowers and herbs, and I wanted to really lean heavily on the storm imagery.

Stones:

I struggled finding a focal point for the box for a while, and I'd finally decided on hunting down an Astrophyllite tower when I happened upon something even cooler: a mineral called Arfvedsonite, which is very similar in appearance and composition to Astrophyllite but with a blue sheen instead of a gold one. I found a sphere with the most amazing lightning-like flashes, and I really love the way it looks in the box. It conjures the image of a stormy sky, filled with turmoil and chaos.

I first chose it for looks, obviously, but when I investigated its meaning I was surprised how well it fit Yasha! It’s meant to help soothe deep sadness and emotional turmoil, and assist with moving forward and imagining a future after dealing with emotional pain, grief, and loss. it also helps people who have trouble communicating with others, encouraging them to speak clearly and be able to share their feelings truthfully and accurately. Lastly, it helps make major life changes easier, and can help when your life takes you in new and scary directions.

The sphere also contains almandine garnet and pyrite. Almandine garnet (aka Eudialyte) can help a person let go of the belief that they are unable to avoid suffering or hardship, is used to dispel anger, negativity and guilt, and also assists with processing the difficult end of a relationship and letting go peacefully. Pyrite is a stone for protectors, and helps increase both strength and self-worth, overcome feelings of inadequacy and help reach one's true potential.

Next, I collected some smaller crystals for the box. From the beginning, I knew I wanted some Iolite in the box as it reminded me of Yasha as soon as I read about her. It's a stone that helps wanderers and travelers with navigation, and helps with finding your path when you're lost, literally or figuratively.

There's also a baby blue chunk of celestite, a tumbled piece of gold sheen obsidian, a small purple amethyst tower, and a faceted blood red garnet. Celestite, as its name suggests, is connected to the celestial, which I thought was a good match for Yasha (lol). It represents gentleness, softness, connection with the divine, and helps nerves when talking to others. Gold sheen obsidian is a stone of protection -but also gentleness, which I thought fit well. It's good at shielding from negative energy and evil influences, and lets us shed our negative perceptions and grief slowly while bringing comfort. It also helps to stop us from self-sabotaging.

Garnet, in my practice, represents the heart. It means commitment, devotion, and trust. It helps you to remember things you've forgotten, and helps control self-directed negativity and anger.

Amethyst is traditionally a stone of protection, which does fit, but it also facilitates confidence and calm and banishes anxiety, helping you to form bonds with others and better communicate with them.

Potions:

The potions are a bit different for Yasha than my normal process, because I really wanted to try as hard as I could to use almost ALL flowers. Normally I use a mix of about 50/50 flowers and herbs, with the occasional other materials, but I wanted to make them full of flowery goodness this time. It took a bit longer and I had to source a ton of flowers from all over the place, but it was totally worth it, in my opinion.

There are 7 potions, labeled on the bottom with their corresponding number. The first potion in the first picture (#1) represents devotion and love. I wanted to make something that really showed Yasha's devotion to Zuala and her love for her wife, because I definitely cried about it and needed everyone else to do it too. The potion contains dogwood, lavender and sunflower for devotion, delphinium for commitment and yarrow for eternal love. It is sealed with silver wax and stamped with a sunflower in black.

The second potion (#2) represents the other end of devotion- faith and duty. I felt like devotion was the best word for both of them, because Yasha is very devoted to the Stormlord, but her sense of duty and faith is a different kind of devotion. This one contains amaranth and rosemary for faith and loyalty, and peach rose petals and bluebell for gratitude to the Stormlord for pulling her out of "hell” and is sealed in silver wax with his symbol.

The third potion, (#3) and last in the first photo, represents the contrast between Yasha's strength and her softness. She's tall and intimidating, but she's compassionate and kind to her friends. This potion includes pink roses for gentleness, pink carnation for sweetness and kindness, vervain for tenderness, chrysanthemum for awkwardness or bluntness, and then also contains hydrangea for coldness and aggressiveness, and marigold for cruelty and rage in combat. It is sealed in black wax with a silver sunflower stamp.

The next photo depicts the remaining 4 potions. The first one (#4) represents grief. Yasha has had her fair share of grief, definitely, and I wanted to be sure I touched on that. There's dark red rose petals for mourning, magnolia for grief, purple hyacinth which means "Forgive me," and Zinnia for carrying the memory of an absent friend in your heart. The Zinnia is for Molly, and the hyacinth for Zuala, but the rest of the flowers I think apply to both, and also to Yasha having to leave behind parts of herself with the people (and memories) she has lost. The bottle is sealed with silver wax and a black sunflower stamp.

The second potion in this photo (#5) represents fear and doubt. I really connected with Yasha saying she thought she was cursed, or doomed to suffer. I think the pain she has gone through really affects how she interacts with others. This potion contains chamomile for adversity and rue for obsession over your mistakes (rue and chamomile can also represent feeling cursed or doomed to misfortune), plus purple heather for solitude/wanting to be alone, and agrimony and yarrow for fear, cowardice and self-doubt. Sealed with black wax and a blue eye stamp to match Yasha's blue eye.

The next one (#6) represents growth and the journey that Yasha has made so far, both literally and spiritually. It contains rose quartz for healing and mending a broken heart, yellow rose petals for friendship, and cloves for gaining friends and being made a better person by those around you. There is one clove for each member of the Mighty Nein. Sealed with black wax and a purple eye stamp, to match Yasha's purple eye.

The last potion (#7) was a late addition, but when I looked at all the rest of the potions I felt something was missing from the narrative. This last one represents contrast, but most importantly transformation - in a few ways. Obviously there's the literal: Yasha says she looked different when she woke up on the Stormlord's altar, and then there's the transformation she goes through with the Necrotic Shroud and her wings. But I wanted to draw contrasts between Yasha running from her tribe and leaving the M9 at the behest of the Stormlord; between her struggling with being a coward and being so willing to fight. I wanted to show the transformation from her being helpless to being a protector to so many - from being saved to being someone who saves others - and what had to happen for those changes to occur. It contains bay leaf and moss for strength/power and becoming a protector, cinquefoil for being saved and granted protection, mint for virtue, and labradorite for transformation. This one is also sealed with silver wax and the symbol of the Stormlord.

To tie everything in, I added a small sachet with a hand cast d20 (filled with heather and rosebuds), a small health potion, and a sword charm to represent Yasha’s greatsword. I also included a pink carnation and dogwood flower, along with one of my favorite parts of the box: a miniature leather book that contains a four-leaf clover and other pressed wildflowers. I loved Yasha and her flower collection so much I knew it had to be a part of the box as soon as I heard about it! I hand pressed and added all of the flowers, and there’s room in the second half to add more.

Finally, I painted the inside lid with a lightning storm scene to tie in all my storm references, and the bottom of the inside of the box is painted with a set of black wings and a grey rose.

Inevitably I started watching Critical Role about ¾ of the way into making this box and am a fan now, so I’m blaming my friends for this one :)

Thanks for reading! Yasha will be available in my shop in my July 7th update (EDIT: she has SOLD). Feel free to ask questions on this post or in a message!

You can find my site and shop at unklarity (dot) com!

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 12: Stage

Somehow this story refused to be short. Even this version with all its’ extraneous details  is abbreviated. Based lightly on the biography of one of my favorite hypnotists. Very lightly edited- may do another read through tomorrow am. Feel free to point out mistakes. 

Curtain up on a handsome young man attending university in the 90s. 

Brandon took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. He could do this. He'd actually learned to enjoy the stage fright these past few months he'd been performing. It felt electric and helpful- a little reminder that he was alive.

He ran through his old confidence trick of imagining that he was Paul McKenna. He'd seen McKenna perform once  back in first year. He was magnetic on stage- mesmerizing the audience well before he had even formally hypnotized anyone. As a shy, awkward, closeted kid,  Brandon had admired how confident the hypnotist was. He held effortless sway over his volunteers and his audience. Brandon had wanted to be like that- feel that in control of something.

So Brandon began to teach himself hypnosis. The library had some books and he had some friends who were kind enough to let him try things out. Somewhere along the way, Brandon had gotten really good. One night after work at his bar job, he had even managed to hypnotize the owner’s girlfriend. She was a fun natural subject and they had worked really well together. The owner had been so impressed that he asked if Brandon ever did stage hypnosis. When Brandon said yes (a small white lie), the owner had offered him a slot for a show every other Tuesday night.

After the first month or so, doing stage hypnosis started to feel really great. Brandon had a routine and he mostly stuck to it, but the volunteers reacted differently enough that the show felt new every time. Brandon felt connected to his volunteers. And even though what they were doing was inherently silly, it was also magical and exciting and fascinating. 

Brandon stepped out on the small stage and began his pre-talk. Like the rest of the show, It was a variation on the same old speech every week (one of the regulars at the bar counter always rolled his eyes when Brandon began) but the routine gave Brandon enough extra brain space to scan the crowd and take notes for himself. A ginger girl looked really engaged and was laughing at all the jokes right on time- she might be a good volunteer. A man in a hat had kind of slowly blinked when Brandon said "sleep" earlier- that could be a good sign. Or he might already be too drunk, Brandon thought, judging the number of  beer glasses Brandon saw under him. Many audience members tonight seemed open and engaged. That would probably give Brandon a good selection of volunteers...

And then he walked in.

Brandon saw the guy from the campus GLBT club last week. The one Brandon had finally forced himself to go to. (Brandon had been frantically trying not to think about sex and sexuality issues for years, but this year he had finally started privately using “the g word” in his own mind when labeling himself.) Actually going to the club had felt really awkward until he began talking with a friendly guy there named Scott. Scott had drawn him out- asked him about himself and his interests. Scott told him a bit about his life too- he talked about being the only gay guy on the rugby team and how he had won the  other players’ respect. 

Scott had an easy laugh and an easy charm. Brandon had certainly felt charmed by him. Maybe a bit too charmed.  Brandon felt the zing of a crush beginning to start. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet, though. Brandon had not mentioned the hypnosis thing to Scott- it felt weird and personal and he had already half-convinced himself that he was being creepy in response to Scott’s platonic friendliness. He didn’t want to scare him off.

He had never expected to see him here.

Scott smiled and waved at Brandon. It took everything Brandon had to keep his pre-talk speech going on autopilot. All of a sudden, he felt very exposed and very known. Like Scott had walked in on him masturbating or something.

Focus.

Brandon tripped up a little bit on the magnetic fingers test, but no one in the audience seemed to notice. He had a few people who seemed to be responding really well so far. (He studiously did not to look over at Scott.) Brandon channeled his enthusiasm into his volunteer call "So if you're ready to have the best time of all tonight, go ahead and come up on the stage!"

A few people came up- Brandon sold volunteering some more while trying to make eye contact with a few more possibles. It was always good to give himself options. He verbally encouraged volunteers to find and  sit in the hypnotic chairs behind him. When he finally felt like enough people had volunteered, Brandon turned around

He saw Scott sitting directly behind him, smiling up at him expectanly.

Fuck.

Professionalism, Scott remembered. He kept on with his routine, doing some basic relaxation steps and then starting at the beginning of the line of volunteers with a series of quick inductions.

He got to Scott.

Scott was already looking spacey. He looked up at Brandon in the most open, trusting way.

Brandon felt something in him stir.

NO. He thought. Focus. 

He took Scott’s hand in his and started his induction.

“Push on my hand.” Scott’s hand felt warm and rough against his.

“Harder” He looked so sexy when he was concentrating. 

“Harder” He smelled so good.

“Now- SLEEP!” 

As Brandon pulled his hand quickly away, Scott just..collapsed. Like a puppet with his strings cut. His eyes had rolled back and they had already started moving a bit under the lids. Scott’s mouth was hanging open. He looked debauched and so open and so gone...

NO.

NO NO NO

Focus

Brandon needed to stop himself. Thinking on his feet, he course corrected. “Let’s have a round of applause for all of our volunteers! Now- since we have so many excellent subjects up here, let’s say we make it just a ladies night tonight. We’ll use all and only female volunteers. What do you all think about that?!”

The crowd cheered in enthusiasm. Thank goodness. Brandon woke up all of his male volunteers and continued the show. 

Crisis averted.

Scott came up after the show to shake Brandon’s hand and talk to him. Brandon somehow managed to touch Scott’s hand again and not blush, even with that strings-cutting moment still vivid in his head. Scott asked if Brandon wanted to meet him for a pint but Brandon declined, citing exhaustion.  He already felt bad enough for lusting after Scott during the show- if he let his guard down Scott might notice something was off. He needed to go and sort himself out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brandon  decided to give  going to the GLBT club a miss that next week. He had been fantasizing about Scott all week- his big trusting eyes, his slack expression, what he could have made Scott do while he was under his power. He felt ashamed to actually go face him with those thoughts running through his head. Brandon took a walk and had a cold shower that night instead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scott was in the front row when Brandon began his next stage hypnosis show.

He had brought friends. 

The group of girls, who had obviously already had a bit to drink, were cheering and rowdy. They weren't rambunctious enough to get kicked out, but they were certainly enough to rile the rest of the crowd up. 

Brandon gave the first part of his pretalk then launched into his magnetic fingers routine. He decided to experiment and turn it into a bit of a group induction, continuing on into an arm levitation on the fly. After a few minutes of patter, he asked people to open their eyes and see how high their arms had gotten. A few people had arms that were floating a foot or two off their legs.

Scott’s arm was floating up at his head. 

It looked like he was raising his hand.

Scott looked up at his arm with a kind of distant, happy surprise. 

Brandon chose a few audience members to come on the stage who had experienced some success with the exercise. He purposely did not choose Scott. No need to put himself through that again. 

He was just getting ready to put the last chair away when he heard:

“Scott! Scott!”

One of the drunk girls.

“Scott! Scott!”

Now all of the drunk girls.

“Scott! Scott!”

Then the rest of the audience, laughing a bit as Scott cheekily waved at them.

Brandon swallowed and steeled his nerves. “Scott, would you like to come up?”

The audience roared in response. 

-----------------------------------

Brandon managed to keep his shit together through the beginning of the show and a few basic skits- pretending shoes were puppies (Scott made the most adorable faces), playing an imaginary piano (he had...agile fingers), and name amnesia (that confused look, though).

 Brandon went right into the next skit.

“OK when I wake you up in a moment, you’re going to imagine you’re at the top of a tall mountain and it’s freezing up there- you’ll imagine that you’re so totally cold and every time I say the word cold it gets colder, every time I say the word cold you get colder...”

Scott was already shivering, doing brilliantly. So was the blonde in the red shirt.

Brandon woke them up, verbally encouraging their shivers and teeth chattering. The volunteers huddled together for warmth. Scott ran his hands quickly up and down the blonde girl’s arms to warm her up.

“And now, “ Brandon said, “the cold’s gone away and you realize that you’re not on the mountain at all! You’re in a hot place! You’re in the desert and the sun’s coming up and it’s getting hotter and hotter...”

Brandon kept his patter going on autopilot as he watched the group react, looking for what reactions to encourage. The blonde was fanning herself. The bald guy was going a bit red. And Scott-

Scott was taking his shirt off.

The drunk girls yelled encouragement from the audience. 

Scott’s hands worked to throw his shirt over his head. Time seemed to slow. Brandon could see the muscles in Scott’s chest. He was sweating. 

Brandon stopped dead in his tracks for a moment.

Scott moved his hands to his belt buckle.

Brandon raised his voice “And NOW the temperature is normal again. Normal comfortable temperature. And you can go ahead and stop what you’re doing and sit back in your seat, that's right..”

------------------------------------

Brandon fled the stage as soon as the show was over. He made an excuse of needing to use the toilet. He stayed in there for 10 minutes to calm his nerves.

Scott was waiting for him when he came out. 

Brandon made another excuse of checking on the other volunteers and left. 

30 minutes later, Scott was still at the bar. Waiting.

Resigned and secretly pleased, Brandon walked over. 

“Hey Svengali!” Scott said with a smile. “Did you like having me under your spell?” He winked playfully. 

Brandon laughed awkwardly. Suddenly he was all out of words. 

Scott came closer. “Seriously, though, that was a lot of fun. I felt really relaxed and playful. Being hypnotized feels really zen, y’know?”

Brandon found his voice, “Yeah, you’re a really talented subject. You’re really creative and imaginative and..willing.” Brandon looked down, his own words making him shy. 

Scott’s mouth quirked at that last word. “Brandon, I don’t want to freak you out  but- I’ve spent the last hour and a half focused on you. Really focused. And I was paying attention to what you said but,” he looked Brandon in the eye, “I could kind of tell you were focused on me too. Intensely.”

Brandon turned red. “I..I’m sorry, you must think I’m so creepy, I..”

Scott stopped him. “No Brandon, you don't get it. I wanted to be focused on you. I’ve wanted it ever since the club really- but especially since I saw your last show. Watching it kind of...helped me understand some things about myself. What I wanted.  And I wanted you to notice me too. Why do you think I wore this shirt tonight?” He smiles teasingly. “I remembered your show last week. I knew I’d have the excuse to take it off for you. Did you like what you saw?”

Brandon nodded his head.

Scott nodded back, understanding. “You liked watching me take my shirt off. And I think you liked watching me be hypnotized, too. Following your commands. Acting under your spell.”

Brandon blushed at his quiet, involuntary moan.

 Scott looked at Brandon’s with gentle compassion. He held Brandon’s hand in his for a moment and put a piece of paper in it. “I know you’re newly out and i don’t want to pressure you. I like you a lot, though, and, well- I think we have a lot in common. We’re...compatible, in a way. So if you ever want to hang out some time or go out or y’know, stay in together...” he squeezed Brandon’s hand and let go “...give me a call”.

Scott looked Brandon in the eyes one more time, then walked away.

-----------------------------------------------------

Brandon angsted over the number for exactly one day.

On Wednesday night, he picked up the phone. 

“Hey Scott? Hey, It’s Brandon. Listen, I’m working on some new ideas for my show. Would you like to come over and help me test them? Maybe on Friday?  I’ll make you dinner.”

It was a start.  

[peggysousfan]

NOIR AU

Hey guys! Its super late, but because it is Christmas Eve and I won’t be very active tomorrow, I wanted to hurry and finish this fic. Liek the others I did not come up with the idea or collage, I just came up with the story for them. The prompt is: Sousa is a down on his luck PI. Miss Violet hires him for protection, and when they get involved he thinks his luck has finally turned around. Little does he know he's up against the Carter crime family, and neither the beautiful and deadly daughter Peggy Carter nor Miss Violet are exactly what they seem.It is a long one, but I hope you enjoy!! :)

The city of Los Angeles was turning in for the night, some people continued to walk about the streets, while others turned towards home. Some being Private Investigator Daniel Sousa. Sousa has been down on his luck with his work; no one seems to need a detective who can't walk with one leg. After The war, he started working as a detective, but his colleges treated him poorly, so, he left. He created his own office and continued to investigate as a private investigator. Protecting those who need it and discovered the deep dark truth.

Earlier that week he received a phone call for a case; a case with an unexpected truth. A case of a not so widowed woman. Her husband and his family faked his death to be compensated for the little money they had so he could start a new life with his nurse from physical therapy. The wife was devastated, and she lashed out at him, scratching the hell out of his face. Although this case was a wild ride, he got the job done. And at the end of the day, he needed a drink; so he got one. He left the familiar bar and started to walk home.

As he began to walk in the street towards his apartment, hes stopped by a woman in scrubs. She taps his shoulder, more forcefully than she meant too, and he turns around. The woman before his takes his breath away. Her blond hair hangs loose around her face from a days long shift, while her blue eyes shine in the night.

"Excuse me. Are you PI Daniel Sousa?" She asks. He shakes out of his trance and speaks.

"Uh, yeah I am. And you are...?"

"Violet," She reaches out her hand and they both shake, "Violet Prescott. I'm afraid I need you help, Mr. Sousa."

"Help?"

"Yes. I was hoping to hire you. You are still a PI, right?" Daniel nods his head and she smiles, once again making him freeze. "Good. I need your help."

As they walk, side by side, down the street, they stop at a small diner. They enter through the doors and sit opposite of each other in a booth. A waitress comes by and they both order a coffee. When she delivers the mugs, Miss Prescott begins to speak.

"So I wanted to hire you for protection. Do you...do that?"

"Yes, I do. What's the case?"

"I-its uhm..." She looks around the diner, her eyes wide and cautious. "I think someone is watching me. Following me. I-I'm not sure who o-or why, but they are."

She takes a deep breath to compose herself, reaches into her handbag, and places several notes on the table. Each one is different; one has blood on it. Daniel's eyes enlarge and quickly take them in his hands.

"These have been appearing at my front door and mailbox for several weeks." She says, her voice wavering. "At first I though it was a...awful prank from the kids in the neighborhood. But then they become more serious and...threatening."

"And you have no idea who's sending you these? No enemies or old friends that you don't get along with? Have you been a witness to something you shouldn't have seen?"

"I-I-I" Violet stutters. "I'm nice to everyone. All of my friends and family can vogue for me." He nods his head as she continues. "I don't have any enemies at all or old friends who would ever do something like this."

"And witnessing something? A crime or...anything out of the ordinary?" She hesitates for a moment, but shakes her head. "Miss Prescott I cannot help you if you don't give me the full story. I need to know everything you do if I'm going to  catch him."

She takes a deep breath, and relieves it as a sigh. Nothing could have prepared Daniel for what he was about to hear next. A load of cash and weapons for a criminal empire just occurred on the docks by the coast. Another gang showed up and the two fought over the cargo, one thing led to another, and someone was shot...and Miss Prescott was a witness. She couldn't go to the police, in fear of the people involved. One person saw her, but she ran and got away. She thinks that person is the one watching.

"Okay..." Daniel says, digesting the information. "Did you recognize anyone there? Maybe a face or a voice?" but she shakes her head.

"Nothing recognizable to me, but-" She stops mid sentence too look around the diner once more. "But the voices of the people who appeared last...they weren't from around here."

"What'd you mean?" Daniel leans in closer as she begins to lower her voice.

"They...they aren't American. Or at least their accents weren't. They were English."

"English?" He repeats, sitting back in his seat. He thinks on it but nothing comes to mind. "Okay...that's a start."

"Mr. Sousa can you help me? Please?" She begs.

"Of course." Violet smiles brightly at his response, and Daniel can't help the way his breath catches at this sight...

3 months later:

The morning is as boring and uneventful as it can be. Daniel Sousa sits in his office on this morning, writing up a report from his last case, and trying to hurriedly finish. His relationship with Violet has grown immensely, and he thinks he couldn't be happier. Although his happy thoughts are interrupted as the phone on his desk starts to ring. He answers the phone and gets a lead on what Violet witnessed. The dock man saw an odd cargo hold on the dock, said it was being guarded by some odd men in suits. Seeing as this is the only lead he's had in months, he takes it.

When he gets to the dock, its mostly empty, apart from three boats; and one of them has odd feel; so he crutches towards it. When he gets on board, no one is on deck. He walks towards a door and slowly goes though it. For several minutes it all seems empty; not one person in sight. Daniel smiles in delight at his luck, and observes the boxes on board. They aren't labeled, at least, not all of them. He lifts a lid on one and keeps a low whistle to himself. The amount of cash inside could make the president faint.

"What the hell?" Someone says from behind.

Daniel whips around and is attached by a man on guard. The two men use their fist at his each other, but Daniel has an advantage. He uppercuts the guards jaw, stunning him, then kicking him in the shin to get him on his back. The groans and then chokes ans Daniel holds his crutch to his throat.

"Not listen, and listen carefully, I need to know the name of the gangs that shipped and sold these boxes.

"You're crazy man. " He laughs

"Who hired you? Was it the Jones's or this English group I've been hearing about? huh?" Daniel presses slightly harder and the man grabs a hold of the crutch, smacking it for relief. He gets enough air to speak.

"You have no idea, do you?" He laughs, wiping away the blood from his nose. "This 'English gang' is a family; and a powerful one at that. Its not a family you want to mess with, crip. " Daniel's grip tightens on his crutch. "Even if you were a whole man...you wouldn't stand a chance."

And it is then that is then the realization hits him. The English 'gang' wasn't a gang at all; it was the Carter Crime Family. A family with an empire of power and influence throughout the entire criminal dynasty. They consist of a widowed man, Harrison, with his two children. A late son who died in the war; leaving behind his pregnant wife, and then there was Harrison's daughter, Margaret. From the rumors around she's as beautiful and dangerous as a rose, and her looks are nothing compared to her fighting skills. Daniel has seen her, once, but only from afar at a party at the end of the war. He was struck by her beauty, and could barley speak for the rest of the night. Although he has seen her, he has never witness her fighting skills; to him they were just that, rumors.

"Dammit," Daniel curses. He takes the pressure off the mans throat and whacks him on the side of his head; leaving him unconscious. Was he leaves the dock, he makes several calls. Apparently there was a party happening near the coast, so he go an invitation. He had to see if the Carter's were in town.

Carter Residence:

"Peggy, darling? Are you ready?" Someone knocks on the door.

"In a moment, father. I just need to change!" The young woman exclaims from her room.

As her father walks away, Peggy continues to look for an evening gown. She stands before her bedroom mirror, dress in hand, covering her body. She smiles to herself in delight at the design.

"You should wear that one." Says the man sitting on the bed. "It brings out your eyes."

Peggy smiles and turns to him, walking his way. He sits up straighter, his hands resting on her waist, as he pulls her down for a kiss. When they break apart, she starts to pull away, but he drags her closer again, causing her to gasp and push against him.

"Fred, stop," She laughs, sitting in his lap, "I have to get ready."

"Mm, party can wait a few hours. Don't you thinks so, Peg?" He kisses her neck and she internally groans and rolls her eyes, standing up.

"No. It can't, you know this." She starts to walk away, but he grabs her wrist.

"Margaret-"

"Peggy! We're going to be late!" She sighs and tells her father she will be ready soon. "You too Wells, We need to pop out soon."

Fred grumbles, but replies he will be out soon. As Harrison walks away, Wells pulls Peggy closer and kisses her again; keeping her close. When they break apart he kisses her cheek and then her hand, before leaving the room.

"Don't take too long, darling." he says, and then shuts the door. She smiles at him, and then snarls as the door is fully shut.

"Just one more night, Peggy," She tells herself, "One more night of publicity and meetings, then you're done. At least as long as you can pull through enough for it..."She shakes those gloomy thoughts away and puts on her evening dress. One more party and then she's done.

The Party:

The music is lively and bustling about the room. People are dancing all around the dance floor, others sitting at the bar waiting for drinks, and then there was the ones sitting at their tables or standing around and watching the others enjoy their night. When Daniel Sousa entered the room, he was not amused by the state of the party. How rich people could splurge all of this money on a waste of a party rather than helping those in need, always bothered him; but it was required for him to be here nonetheless.

He stands around the bar, watching the door and stairs, pretending to nurse his drink, looking for any sign of the Carter family. For over an hour he waits, lingering and observing. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, he saw her again. Daniel stops, frozen in place, as he sees her radiating beauty. His mouth falls open in awe at the daring evening dress she has on. He tries to look away, think about Violet, but its much more difficult than he thought. With all his strength he turn away, and then sees her father walking in, along side someone else.

Curious, Daniel watches as the man approaches Miss Carter, and the  looks away as they meet for a kiss. Its hardly appropriate for such a public place, but then again, who will say anything to them. He looks up again and notices the man take her by the arm and they walk away together upstairs. For a moment, Daniel thinks he saw sadness...loneliness in her features; but just as quickly as it was shown, it disappeared from her face. Not trying to think too much about it, he leaves the party, satisfied in his confirmation; The Carter Crime family was in fact in Los Angeles.

As Daniel leaves and heads to his office, he isn't aware of what the Carter's are doing. They all sit around the meeting table with the Jones's and another group, discussing the problem at hand.

"Your man shot first, so no. The deal is off." Hugh Jones says.

"Now listen here, we can't end the deal when its on a contract." Harrison speaks. "You know that the one at fault is your foolish movers. If they wouldn't have damaged the cargo and tried to get away with keeping it...then we wouldn't have an problem. But here we are."

"He shouldn't have fired a shot. Anyone could have heard," Another party member speaks.

"Look, Duncan, everyone knows that the docks were empty. and Fred had every right to claim what is ours." Harrison explains, looking at the man in question. Peggy says nothing, instead looks at the ground shaking her head. Fred keeps his hand on her lap, holding her hand, as the meeting continues. She keeps her eye rolls and unfriendly words to herself.

"Listen here, Carter, If we get any publicity over this, it's on your hands."

"Whatever you say...Prescott." Fred chimes in.

"If you want the damn cargo so badly, you get to keep one box. That is, if you have the cash to pay for it."

"As a matter of fact, we do." Duncan hands over a suitcase. "2 million here and now, Harrison. You'll get the rest later."

He thinks this over, looking at Fred and his daughter, who both nod.

"Very well, you have yourself a deal." The men shake on it. "But here my words, Prescott. If any thought whatsoever crosses your mind of stealing what's mine. I'll bury you myself."

"Its a deal."

As the families and groups dismiss and enjoy the rest of their evening, Peggy slips away. She wants time to be alone and think things through; much like Daniel Sousa is currently doing. For hours he spends in his office, looking though reports and files; anything he can find on the Carters. They may be his next lead on catching the man who is threatening Violet.

The Next Morning:

"Good morning," Violet says, walking towards Daniel in the front yard.

"Morning, V." He smiles reaching for her. His hand sets on her waist as they meet for a gentle kiss. She looks up at him smiles. "Leaving for work already?"

"Yeah. I was just about to call you, when I saw your car pull up in my driveway." She leans in for another kiss, ruffling his already exhausted hair. "Are you okay? You look really tired."

Daniel chuckles and takes her hand. "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired."

"Rough night?"

"Yeah..." he looks down at the ground and then back at her. "I was thinking, maybe tonight, we could go to the movies, catch a picture. You know? Relax after the week we've had." She laughs at him and squeezes his hand.

"Will do." One more kiss before she walks to her own car. "Daniel!" She turns around, "I'll meet you at your office after my shift, is that okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." They smile at each other before parting ways.

Later that night:

Violet waits patiently in Daniel's office chair, waiting for him to clock out. When he appears at the door, hat on head and crutch in arm, he stops at the sight of her. Violet's blond hair was perfectly coiled, her dress was black with pink roses. To finish it off, was an elegant pearl necklace. Daniel stood there, stunned, making her laugh.

"Daniel, are you ready to go?" She snaps him out of his trance, making him smile sheepishly.

"Right, sorry. You just..." He trails off. "You look amazing."

"Thanks. You look quite swell yourself." The two share another smile before walking arm in arm towards the door, but stop suddenly when the phone rings.

"Just one second then we'll go." he promises.

Violet smiles and nods to the phone. He answers it and immediately is shell shocked. Margaret, 'Peggy' Carter was just caught and brought into custody. Now is his chance to get answers. He hangs up the phone and she already knows; no movie night tonight. He leaves the office and after calling in a few favors; Miss Carter was going to be interrogated by him first.

Daniel's Office:

As Daniel enters the office building, he sees Violet waiting in a chair. He tells her to sit on the other side of the glass while he interrogates Miss Carter, and Peggy does nothing but glare at Violet. When she and Daniel inter the interrogation room, he handcuffs her to the table and asks her about the weapons and money cargo from the docks. Although Peggy is in no mood.

"And where did you get this information? Hmm?" She asks, fighting the tears that well up in her eyes. "It wouldn't happen to be from a pretty blond woman named Violet Prescott would it?"

"What?" Daniel is shocked and stands from his seat. But Peggy isn't looking at him anymore, she's looking at the glass window.

"Is that the game your playing now, is it? Hiding behind the law by trying to sleep with it? That's low, Violet. Even for you."

"I don't know what you think you know or what you're talking about, but-"

"There are no 'buts' in this situation. Its as simple as a con woman playing your whore while she keeps her other...illegal affairs under your nose." Daniel starts to get angry at the word 'whore' , but the other information slips doubt in his mind. Before he can say anything, however, Violet enters the room.

"You're lying. Because that's what you all do."

"'You all'? Tell me, who is 'you all'? Hmm?" Peggy begins to smirk. "A-are you referring to the term criminals? Is that what you think I am? What my family is? Criminals?"

"Its not what I think, Miss. Carter. It's what I know." Daniel says in a deadly tone. All she can do is shake her head and keep the tears at bay.

"You think you know me. My family and what we do....but you're wrong." She looks up at Daniel, eyes glazed over and cheeks a bright red. "If you knew half of what I did you would know about the real criminals, the Prescott family and their undercover system." Peggy smirks as Daniel glances over at Violet; and Violet begins to gulp in nervousness."

"She's insane.." She mutters, and this draws Peggy's attention.

"I'm the insane one?" She laughs. "I'm not the one trying to get in a mans bed for a cover."

"That is not what is happening. Not that its any of your business!" Violet shouts. Daniel places a hand over her arm and says she should leave. Civilians shouldn't be in an interrogation room anyway.

"Civilian? Oh please, this woman is no normal law binding citizen. She's the complete opposite! The Prescott families Kingdom of illegal transportation or weaponry and stolen money. She and her family have been framing me and my family for years. Years! And for what? Hmm?! All because your precious daddy couldn't handle a small drink."

"You shut up!" Violet lunges for Peggy, but Daniel holds her back."

"Oh I'm sorry, darling. Did I hit a soft spot? Perhaps a little...sensitive matter." Peggy smirks as she continues to get angrier, trying to get past Daniel. "Or how about...the church house. And how that operation ended so poorly for you." And at this, Violet freezes, causing Peggy to laugh.

"Violet, What is going on!? What is she talking about!?!" Daniel yells, causing Peggy to laugh again.

"She didn't tell you? Oh well of course not." She turns her head towards Violet. "She would rather try and get protection from the law on the surface while she frames those that are already in a bad light. Wouldn't you, Miss Prescott?"

"You're the criminal. Not me! It's you and your family!" Peggy can't help but laugh in more hysteria, shaking her hands through the cuffs; banging them once on the table.

"My-" and she laughs more. "My family?! You don't have the first idea." She spews through her sudden tears.

"Oh really? You and you twisted family have been causing nothing but trouble in this town. You sent someone to stalk me and threaten to kill me for no reason!" Violet hollers. Peggy continues to laugh and smile through the tears.

"Sent someone to-" She looks away shaking her head. "You're mad. You're as mad as they come Violet." Daniel takes a step back, watching the two woman. "But you're also clever, I'll give you that." She leans her elbows on the table, glaring at the woman standing before her."Allow me to guess, alright? And stop me if I get this wrong." She licks her lips and thinks for a moment, pointing at the woman standing.

"What are you-" Daniel starts to speak, but is interrupted.

"You saw how poorly the deal went down between the Jones's and yours, so, you thought if you blamed us, you would be free." She starts to explain, " You went and found this...detective, or investigator, to take us down; although given his physical state you deemed him unfit for the job, thinking he would never solve it; so, you'd get away free."

"No. You're wrong. I-"

"You tricked him into thinking you were the victim...I suppose this....sending someone to kill you rouse was to keep him close. Have someone connected to the law to provide as a cover, when really, you've got more blood on your hands than my father!" Violet looks at Peggy, straight in the eye, and neither one backs down. "Unlike you...Miss Prescott, I don't want this life." She starts to tear up again at the thought of her life with her family and Fred. "I hate it with ever fiber of my being! But not you...mm, not you. You see, she enjoys living a life in the shadows." Peggy looks at Daniel as she says this. "She thoroughly enjoys it. Loves to play the game and get whatever it is when wants. The pearl necklace she's wearing? Its real. Made from the rarest of them all. And bought with laundered money... But of course, she would never tell you that, would she? Because she's a snake slithering her way into the world and leaving her venomous bite everywhere she goes."

Peggy looks back towards Violet, the woman who is now in full panic mode. Daniel sees this and is in shock. He takes a step away from her, hands starting to shake.

"No...i-its not true, right? Violet?! Is this true!?" He yells, but she doesn't answer him. Instead she tries to make a run for it, only to be caught in handcuffed to the doorknob. "And to think my luck was actually changing." He mumbles to himself. "Violet Prescott...you're under arrest."

Daniel takes her to a separate room for several minutes, leaving Peggy alone. She sighs in relief, but that sigh leads to a sob, and then another; until she is weeping and out of tears. She never wanted the life she was born into. Never once did she want to steal or hurt anyone; all she wanted was a normal life...and justice. She always enjoyed fighting, even as a little girl she played swords with her brother, but her family took advantage or her love and skill in fighting.

They forced her into the family business, and her relationship to the man Fred Wells. He came from a good family, one that would help the Carter's with power. Peggy like him well enough, but she never loved him. She tried the relationship, tried to be with him for her families sake...but she was never happy. And never thought she could be. It was always about the business, money, and power; never about her happiness. Her mother told her once to never be so selfish, but the Peggy, love wasn't selfish; it was happiness. And it was something she thought she would never get the chance to have.

Interrupting her cries and thoughts, Daniel enters the room. At first he's angry, but then he sees the state shes in.

"Miss Carter..?" He calls gently. He isn't sure what to do; the Carter's are infamous for their lack of emotions.

"Are you going to lock me away now?" She sniffles, "and throw away the key?" he's taken back by this and sits in front of her.

"No...I'm not going to do that." She looks up at him, eyes puffy and red. "Here." He hands her his handkerchief, and she takes it; giving him a small thank you. Boldly, he takes her hand in his, and after several moments, she relaxes. "I shouldn't be doing this, but..."

He lets go of her hand and reaches into his pocket, and shakes the keys in the air. She gasps as he undoes her hands, and she rubs then from irritation. Peggy looks up at him, cautious, but sees the hurt in his eyes and feels empathy.

"I'm sorry for what she did to you. It was wrong...and unfair." He nods his head in understanding, but speaks nonetheless.

"I get it...but I have just one question." Peggy looks at him, waiting. "How did you figure it out so quickly?About her using me because I'm-"

"An injured war hero?" She cuts him off, with an attempted smile. Daniel looks back at her in shock. "I know what people think about you, and others like you. They think you're incapable. Less of a man. But you're not." He smiles a small smile of his own, and offers his hand again; and she happily places hers in his. "I see you for what you are...a person. You fought for your country and returned missing something; but not your soul. That;'s the most important thing. People like Violet don't see that. They see a broken toy they can manipulate rather than the incredible person they truly are."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do." She smiles. "I'm not like my family, or others. I see people and things for who and what they are. You're not broken...you're anew."

The two smile at each other for several moments, but to them it feels like an eternity. After a while, he lets her go and send her on her way; but not before making an offer. She can help bring down the empires and criminal rings, bring real justice and put her skills to good use.

"I'll think about it, " She says, parting ways. Although they are parting ways, oddly, it feels like a new beginning; for both of them.

[hannahmcne]

Lost on the Case - Chapter 2

"Natalie, I need you to schedule a meeting with our representatives in Sweden."

Natalie sighed as she shuffled through the dozens of files strewn on the floor from ten years ago. She was cleaning out all the old papers to make room for next year.

"I'll do that as soon as I'm done refreshing my office," Natalie promised. She crossed off a few items on her check register and tossed some crumbling receipts into the trash. As Gabriel Agreste's heels clicked away, Natalie opened the last filing cabinet, which held financial statements from the bank. She uncapped three different colored highlighters and went to work, only to feel a pang in her chest as she glimpsed the details of certain payments.

$100 worth of Camembert Cheese. $20 withdrawal under the label of 'Nino's Birthday'. 5$ Ladybug Socks.

Though it had been almost ten years, Natalie still felt pained every time she imagined the boy's sunshine hair and sweet smile. It was still hard for her to imagine that he could have been hiding enough sorrow to kill himself underneath his polite, optimistic front.

She balanced the books, noting with a smile the copious requests for Camembert cheese, and remembering how young Adrien had fantasized over Ladybug. There were numbers from Gabriel's accounts mixed in, of course, along with company expenses. Orders for materials and buttons and thread; the whole lot.

Her eyes drifted down. Gabriel's old new phone, check. New and updated Ladybug Action Figures, check. She picked up the next statement and stopped. 40,000 euro withdrawal? When?

She checked Gabriel's statement. There was no mention of forty-thousand euros up and disappearing. She studied the card number beside the transaction and recognized the last four numbers on the card. Adrien. Adrien's card.

Why would Adrien withdraw forty-thousand euros?

What puzzled her more was the lack of a label. Had Adrien forgotten his card somewhere and someone picked it up? Why hadn't this been discovered?

She stood up and turned on her computer to look at the digitalized records for the month after Adrien's desk. All funds and bonds that had existed for the boy in event of something happening had been dissolved back into Gabriel's account upon Adrien's death, but according to her statements, Adrien had only had 300 euros in his separate accounts and in his wallet, which had been left in his workbag.

Natalie pressed her finger on the intercom button on her desk. A red light came on. A few seconds later, Gabriel's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Yes, Natalie?" He asked.

"Sir, were you aware that Adrien withdrew 40,000 euros-" Natalie paused to check the date, "-two weeks before he died?"

There was silence on the other end, and then a rustle of papers. "Forty-thousand euros?" Gabriel asked. He sounded shocked.

"Yes," Natalie confirmed.

"No. No, I was not aware. Where is the money now?"

"Missing. Only three hundred were returned to you." Natalie stated.

"File a claim and notify the police. A sum that large shouldn't be that hard to track down."

"Yes sir," Natalie replied. She took her finger off the intercom button and drummed her fingers on the desk. She glanced at her phone on her desk. Adrien had had friends… very good friends that he might have lent money too. After all, most of his friends had very extensive, expensive hobbies. The Fashion designer, the reporter, the DJ… he could have given it to them as a way of apologizing for not being around much longer. Natalie bit her lip, considering, and then reached for her phone.

Alya piled pens, her phone, and clothes on top of her notebook and lugged her small load down the hall into the bathroom. Nino appeared in the doorway as she started the tub.

"Going for a bath?" Nino asked.

"Yup," Alya confirmed with a frown. She sat down on the closed toilet lid. "Something about Marinette isn't sitting right with me. Someone must have gone rooting through her room because she didn't have those things on her."

"Is it possible she sold the purse?" Nino asked with a sigh, repeating his thesis from earlier. His tone betrayed his opinion: Alya was going off on a tangent again when she should be focusing on her work project.

"What about the photo of us?" Alya challenged.

"She could have moved it." Nino rolled his eyes. "Not everything has to be a mystery, Al."

"Where? And what about her diary?" Alya bit her cheek and tapped her knees. "I dunno Nino. It doesn't seem… likely."

"The diary is probably lost in her room." Nino sighed, sitting down on the floor. "Okay, I know I can't stop you, but... have you even opened the Ladybug file yet?"

Alya blinked. "Huh?" She asked.

Nino rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know, the super-important file that only one person in the department gets the opportunity to work on per year and that may or may not hold the secrets to where she and Chat went?"

Alya winced at his sarcasm. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, I just tuned out." She traced a finger on the wall. "No, I haven't opened it yet, it's just- my reporter senses are tingling. There's more to this story. I'm sure of it."

"You said that when Sabrina took a new job working for Nathaniel." Nino protested.

"Yeah, and there was! She was totally into him!" Alya defended herself though her ears turned a little red.

"They were dating, Alya." Nino annunciated very slowly.

"What about Marc?" Alya wrinkled her nose.

"They were taking a break while Marc was in Versailles." Nino sighed, leaning his head back in frustration.

"Yeah, but she left Chloe to work there!" Alya reminded him, waving her hands a little.

"Chloe fired her." Nino deadpanned.

"Exactly!" Alya exploded.

"They had a routine hiring/firing of each other every six months for almost three years." Nino reminded her.

Alya wilted. Nino sighed. "Just, don't go crazy on me." Alya nodded. Nino stood up and walked away.

"Hey, Nino?" Alya called. He paused and turned around. "I love you," Alya hummed.

Nino cracked a smile. "I love you too." Alya smiled and shut the door in between them. She upended an unholy amount of bubble bath into the tub as it continued filling.

Now… to think. She opened her notebook and selected a pen to tap as she thought. The sound of the water helped her focus. She found a blank page and wrote: "Problem:" At the top. Then she paused. What was the problem? Something was unsettling her. What was it?

Marinette's things were missing, but why did that alarm her so much?

Alya took a deep breath. Okay, Marinette's things are gone, so where did they go? Problem: Where are Marinette's missing things?

Okay, now she needed a Pathway to Solutions. Options. What options did she have? Nino was right, the purse or the ring could have been sold. She highly doubted the picture, or Marinette's diary would have been sold, but you never know. Or maybe Marinette had simply thrown them out. But that didn't sound right either. Marinette wouldn't toss out her grandmother's ring or her favorite picture of her best friend. Someone could have taken them. The ring was valuable, and the purse was pretty. But why would anyone take a teenage girl's diary or a cutout photo of two friends? And how would they have gotten up there? They'd have had to come through the trapdoor or evaded Sabine and Tom completely as they stalked up the stairs. But then why not take her computer or sewing machine? It could be they would have had to have snuck back down past the shop owners, but a trip like that didn't seem worth it for only a purse and a ring.

Or maybe… Marinette moved it herself. But even that had faults. That photo had been hanging since they were in Ecole. Why move it then? And that purse wasn't used half as much as Marinette's day-to-day purse. Alya had only ever seen her use it at Christmas or Easter. And Marinette's grandmother's ring was too big for her little fingers. She kept it on the display for a reason – she couldn't wear it. On top of all this, she knew for a fact Marinette hadn't stored her diary in any other place other than the Magic Box since she'd first made the thing and had the incident with Chloe and Sabrina.

Alya scribbled down all of her ideas and stared at them. They all seemed equally useless. Every single one had too many problems. She groaned and shut off the water to the tub. She buried her notebook under a towel for safekeeping and stripped down to climb in.

As she lay in the sea of bubbles, she tried to think up less flimsy options. Her cold toes tingled in the water. She washed her hair, shaved, and grew too restless to sit in the tub anymore. Finally, she toweled off and stood up. She turned on the fan in the bathroom and dragged her things back to the bedroom. Nino looked up at her from his tablet. He chuckled as she tossed her clothes and towel into the laundry hamper and began to angrily run a brush through her hair.

"Nothing?" He asked.

"Nothing!" She snapped back, angrily.

Nino rolled his eyes. "Bring your notebook over here and let's see what you have." Alya groaned and picked it up off the floor where it had landed. She sat down next to Nino and explained all of her thinking to him. Nino nodded as she reasoned with herself. When she was done, he asked: "Would she have these things with her at all?"

Alya thought hard. She imagined Marinette's missing poster. Then, she shook her head. "I don't think so. They would have reported Marinette having a bag on if she'd had one. And a ring, if she'd been wearing it. The diary is too big, and I don't know why she would have randomly taken the photo down."

Nino hmphed, but still scribbled it down as an option they'd tried. Alya drummed her fingers. "I need another lead." She muttered. I'm still missing something. Nothing can be solved from this angle."

A buzzing sound came from the floor. Alya scooted off the sheets and picked her phone up off the floor. An unknown number was calling. She denied the call. It would send the person to her voicemail. If they actually wanted to speak to her, the first thing they'd hear would be "Please call again, and I'll pick up this time."

She tucked the phone in her back pocket. It started to vibrate again. This time, Alya accepted the call.

"Alya Lahiffe speaking." She said.

"Ms. Ces-, I mean Mrs. Lahiffe, this is Natalie Sancour. I believe you may remember me? I'm Gabriel Agreste's personal assistant."

"Natalie Sancour. Yes, I remember. Why are you calling me?" Alya asked. In front of her, Nino scrunched up his eyebrows. Alya made a slashing motion at her throat. He knew Natalie a little better than he liked. She'd helped escort Nino out of Adrien's house several times.

"I'm calling to ask if you or your husband recall Adrien giving you any form of money or a particularly large or expensive gift before he died?" Natalie asked.

Alya raised an eyebrow at the odd request. "No, sorry ma'am. Nino?" She turned her direction towards Nino. "Do you remember Adrien giving you any money or a really big gift before he died?"

Nino looked very sad. He twiddled his thumbs as he thought. Finally, he shook his head no.

"Nino says he didn't get anything either. Why?" Alya asked.

"We recently discovered he took out a large sum of cash before his death, and we're trying to recover the lost money," Natalie explained, sounding a little annoyed and disheartened.

"How much?" Alya asked, picking up her pen and doodling a little scribble onto her notepad.

"Forty-thousand euros," Natalie admitted.

Alya must have gone white because Nino frowned in concern at her. "And that just, went missing?" She asked.

"He withdrew it two weeks before his death in cash with no memo or explanation. I only discovered it looking at old bank statements today." Natalie replied.

"Wow," Alya gasped.

Natalie hummed on the other end of the line. "I wonder if Ms. Dupain-Cheng would have received anything. As I understand it, they had an infatuation?"

Alya wrinkled up her nose. If only, if only. "No, ma'am. She liked Adrien, but he was oblivious in favor of Ladybug." She corrected.

"Pity. I can't imagine what the effect would have been if he'd had a girlfriend." Natalie mourned.

Alya felt all her frustrations egg up inside her. She couldn't imagine that either. On the other hand, Marinette had been kidnapped a few weeks after Adrien's death, so it might not have kept Adrien alive for very long, but the possibilities continued to annoy her.

"Well, I suppose I can't ask her at all," Natalie said. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Lahiffe."

"Wait," Alya said suddenly. She furrowed her brow. "Is there any chance Adrien might have written it down somewhere? In a journal or in his phone?"

The line was silent. For a moment, Alya was sure Natalie had hung up. Then, she heard a door open and heels clicking on a tile floor. "He – did have a journal he wrote in occasionally. And his old phone is kept on his side table. The room hasn't been touched, you see."

Another door opened. Alya listened to Natalie mutter as she examined – Alya assumed – Adrien's room. After several long, quiet minutes of Alya picking at threads in their bedcovers, Natalie spoke up.

"That's odd… it's missing. I can't find his journal anywhere."

Alya almost dropped the phone. She took a few seconds to recover, and then asked: "Where did he keep it?"

"In the bookcase that held all his music disks. He usually never moved it."

Drawers were opened and shut. She heard Natalie humming in thought. "That's so strange… I can't find it."

Alya's mouth ran dry and she fumbled her phone up by her ear. "Natalie, I- would you mind if I dropped by tomorrow to zoom through his room? See, I've been working on another case where a missing diary is the only piece of evidence and I'm wondering…"

"You think they're linked?" Natalie deadpanned. She sounded about as half as skeptical as Nino, so still very, very skeptical.

"I don't know, but I'm going with my gut feeling," Alya replied, though she was wiping her hands on her legs and feeling rather nervous about the sudden random similarity.

"Interesting. What time would work best for you? It's a Saturday tomorrow." Natalie asked. Her heels were clicking on the floor again, so Alya assumed she was returning to her office.

"Can I come over early? Around nine?" Alya asked.

"I'll tell security to expect you. Goodnight Ms. Lahiffe." Natalie bid her.

The phone clicked.

Nino twiddled his thumbs. "So…" he began. "You think these two cases are linked?" He hadn't, of course, heard the full story, but he'd been listening to Alya as she spoke, and it wasn't hard to fill in the blanks.

"No, it doesn't seem likely. I mean, Adrien's dead. A body was recovered and everything. Marinette… unless it was a hit job against two young adults, they couldn't be linked." Alya said as she got up to turn off the lights. Nino flipped on the lamp.

"So… the reason you want to see his room?" Nino plugged in his tablet and put it on the nightstand.

"Honestly, I'm just wondering what information I can glean. And maybe the similar evidence will give me ideas for Marinette's case." Alya climbed into bed next to Nino. He shrugged and nodded, so she assumed he agreed with her level of thinking. The couple said goodnight, flipped off the lights, and fell asleep.

[artificialqueens]

Not Casual At All: Things Left Unsaid (biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

Not Casual At All continues with 5,500 words of biadore smut and feelings, based on the prompt of Danny surprising Roy in his dressing room.  Set this past Wednesday 8 May, before Adore appeared at Rain on Saturday.

Related fics:

ABCD dressing room

What Happens in the Sewing Room

I tried for shameless, plotless porn, but failed spectacularly.  - MAS  

********

Bianca paused across the dressing room threshold, leaning back on the closed door with eyes closed and taking a deep breath.  Opening her eyes, she met her reflected gaze in the mirror with a sigh.

Two shows in one day had them all exhausted, the marathon of a musical so different from her own comedy tour.  Staying in one place for an extended amount of time was wonderful, but the intensity of performing daily (and going from boy to queen in less than twenty minutes) was the trade off.

Even out of drag, meeting fans at the stage door - while always enjoyable - meant she was still wearing Bianca.

Bianca’s name was the one people called out, the one signed on programs and tickets.

Bianca was also the reason that Roy Haylock, costumer by day and sharp-tongued comic by night, was able to travel the world and perform for thousands of fans at sold out venues.

A reporter in the Philippines asked what he would be doing without Bianca.  Leaving aside that she had always existed in his head in the form of biting commentary, it wasn’t a particularly difficult question to answer.  Roy had been more than satisfied draping and designing for Broadway and coming home to his shoebox of an apartment with Sammy and Dede.  Life wasn’t empty without Bianca, just different.

Without her though, he never would have had the experience of Drag Race.  Without Drag Race, Bianca wouldn’t have met Adore and Courtney and Darienne.  And without them - especially Adore - he might not have let down the wall around his heart. 

Tossing his Sharpie on the table, Roy pushed his glasses up and ran a hand over his face.  Being in different corners of the world was hardly unusual, but even the group text was no substitute for spending time in person.  He’d been spoiled by those weeks at home, meeting up with friends for brunch and shopping downtown.  Evenings out at the club or bar dancing and drinking with Adore and her endless supply of wigs.  Lazy days with Danny on his couch talking over everything, followed by nights in the same bed. 

Although he tried to tell himself he missed the sex (true), having Danny around meant more than that and it hardly happened every time they were together.  What did you label having regular, non-committed sex with your best friend?  Friends with benefits was too superficial, and ‘relationship’ felt too shallow to describe the kind of connection that went beyond anything physical. 

Sex with Adore, with Danny, was easy and satisfying.  It was interrupting a movie to suck each other off, a sleepy handjob after waking up together, or (one memorable time) pausing in the middle of fucking for conversation because Danny remembered a new restaurant he wanted to try.  Above all, it felt safe falling into bed with someone he trusted.  It was familiar and undemanding, no awkward morning after, with someone who already knew their way around his house, never mind his body. 

Non-committed didn’t mean fucking tons of other people, at least on Roy’s part.  He wasn’t joking about never knowing whether someone was genuinely interested in him or just wanted to get into Bianca’s wardrobe.  At the end of the day, needing to keep some things personal and private won out.  But asking Danny for - or even talking about - that kind of commitment would be unfair when they were on different continents several months out of the year.  

Speaking of separate continents, they wouldn’t cross paths again for months - Adore’s tour in Australia and Europe out of sync with Bianca’s engagements. 

Someone knocked on the door and he straightened from his slouch at the vanity table, twisting his lips into a smile from their introspective frown. 

“Yeah?” 

The knocking continued. 

“You can come in,” he called, wondering if it was some of the theatre staff who were still being far too polite.

He turned as the door opened, and had half a breath to be surprised before Danny lifted him off the chair into a hug. 

“What-“ The strength of his grip squeezed the air from his lungs, and for a moment Roy let himself relax completely, balanced up on his toes and faces buried in each other’s necks. 

Danny finally let go (and had he waited for him to lean back first?), lacing their fingers together tightly.  He was still carrying an overnight bag and smelled like stale airplane air, clothes rumpled (although with her closet, it was difficult to tell what was intentional and what was yesterday’s laundry on the floor).  There was a hint of eyeliner smeared on his lower lids and a dusting of glitter on the temples along with a few days’ worth of stubble, skating the edge of gender construct as ever. 

Roy opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden tightness in his chest choked the words back.  Instead, he squeezed Danny’s hands in silence, soaking in the warmth of Adore’s sweet smile on his face. 

“Hi.” 

******** 

Danny took a moment to really look at him, taking in the loose black sweater and pants, the slouchy knit hat, and exhausted brown eyes.  Even in his oversized glasses and without paint, he could see traces of Bianca clinging to Roy.  It was more than the red stain of lipstick, something about the way his shoulders were tense as if he couldn’t relax enough to shed her presence. 

Dropping the bag, he sat down and pulled Roy onto his lap with only minor protest.  Roy always ran cold out of drag, and he immediately wrapped both arms around him again.  The weight of his head came to rest on Danny’s shoulder, face hidden against his neck. Despite the days of rehearsals and backstage mayhem, he didn’t seem to be noticeably thinner than when Danny kissed him goodbye a few weeks ago.  Relieved that Roy was at least taking care of his body, Danny focused on his energy as he spoke. 

“What are you doing here?  Not that I’m complaining, I just - aren’t you and Bunny hosting at Rain on Saturday?”  Roy didn’t bother lifting his head, words murmured between them. 

“Yup.” 

“You aren’t staying, are you?”  The question was more of a statement, shaded with a hint of wistfulness. 

“Yeah,” Danny shifted their weight enough to slide one hand underneath the baggy sweater, arm curved against bare skin, “I gotta go back tomorrow night.  I was kind of hoping you’d let me crash with you.”  

The way his body sagged into Danny’s arm was both concerning and something that he’d think about later.  Preferably when he wasn’t completely sober, because his situation with Roy was simultaneously the simplest and the most difficult relationship he had in his life. 

Roy raised his head after a moment, not to reply but to rest their foreheads together.  He smelled like coconut oil makeup remover and the musty aroma somehow present in all theatres no matter how new. 

“What are you doing here, pussyface?” 

As if Roy didn’t already know.  But maybe he needed to hear it said out loud? 

Danny carefully extracted one arm, wrapping fingers around the back of his neck to squeeze gently. 

“I’m here for you, Willow.” 

******** 

Being at a loss for words was becoming a pattern tonight, one that was unfamiliar to Roy.  Clown face or not, he usually had a quick answer; Danny taking a trans-Atlantic flight to see him for less than twenty four hours was something else.  His mental Rolodex didn’t have any entries under ‘Best friend: what to do when they do something completely impractical that you shouldn’t encourage but are very happy they did’. 

There wasn’t any need to fill Danny in on how the show was going so far, no small talk to fill the air.  They’d covered that and more via text message and phone calls. 

“Have I mentioned,” he kept his tone light, “that you’re crazy and I love you?” 

The Adore smile was back, the one that curved her painted lips into a bracket of mischief.  Without lipstick, it settled on Danny’s mouth and only widened when he spoke. 

“Not today yet, but I know you were busy.” 

“I’m glad you’re here.  I’m supposed to tell you that you shouldn’t have wasted money and time when you’ve got a gig coming up, but…” Roy was already aware of the calculation in the back of his mind of how much time they really had together. 

“My turn to do something for you, bitch.” 

“Yeah?” 

Danny could usually read Bianca, and by extension Roy, with little effort.  Except this time, he wasn’t sure what exactly he should do, only that he couldn’t not follow the feeling tugging at the pit of his stomach that Roy needed him.  That feeling had led him to buying a plane ticket before he’d even stopped to consider if it was a good idea.

“Yeah.  I’m yours for the next twelve hours.  Thirteen.  Fifteen?  Whatever it is before 5 pm tomorrow.” 

Voices and footsteps passed outside the door, and Roy inhaled sharply, physically unmoving but the slightest emotional step away that prickled against Danny’s intuition.  He talked casually about energy all of the time, but being with Roy made him aware of everything that much more.  Without that sensitivity blunted by a buzz of any type, it felt like he was pulling back and Danny wasn’t going to let him. 

“Stop it.” 

“What?”  Roy frowned, not sure what he was referring to.  “I should take you to meet everyone.  There’s one of the girls in the cast who you’d love, and-mmmmphhhh“ 

The kiss effectively silenced his attempt to follow what should be proper hosting behavior and Roy lost himself in it without a struggle.  Danny’s mouth was soft against his, the way he flicked the tip of his tongue against the inside of his lips familiar and welcome.  Their mouths moved together slowly in a rhythm of licks and caresses that kept the kiss undemanding.  He could feel the heat radiating from Danny’s hand underneath his shirt, fingers fanned out to press firmly between his shoulders.  His own were buried in Danny’s hair, tugging in a way that was less controlling and more about anchoring them closer together. 

They pulled apart a moment later, Danny’s tongue darting out to catch the threads of saliva connecting their lips. 

“What do you need?”  He spoke the words against Roy’s mouth, not kissing but breathing the same air.  “Like, I’m cool with meeting the other guys if that’s what you want.  Or we can hit up the spots from the last time?  Or go back to yours and…” 

Danny paused for a breath, then frowned and leaned back enough to make steady eye contact.  “If you want me tonight, I’m yours.”  

I’m always yours, even when I’m with someone else. 

“However you wanna do things.  I mean, we don’t have to fuck, like of course I’m down if you are, but-“ 

Without Bianca’s blue eyes, Roy’s were soft with exhaustion and what might be a little bit of relief.  Danny waited, impatient but forcing himself to be still. 

“This- this is good.  Right here, us.” 

“Okay.”  If that’s what Roy wanted, Danny was happy to spend another hour making out in the dressing room.  He’d half expected him to insist on going out, maybe walking the London streets together, or going back to his rented flat and fucking each other into the mattress.  They’d done both over the years, and everything in between, but the slow kissing spoke more to Roy’s emotional state than anything else.  Roy always kissed confidently, sometimes dominant and demanding (Danny enjoyed those, usually because they accompanied the kind of rough sex that left them both coming hard), other times gentler and so sweet it made his chest ache strangely to think about.  Tonight though, his kisses felt almost tentative, as if he was afraid that Danny would change his mind if he pushed too hard. 

“Hold on,” he murmured, gripping Roy’s hips until he took the hint, wrapping his legs around Danny’s waist as he stood.  There was a high table by the window already half covered in bouquets and vases, and Danny pivoted to set him down there. 

“Remember the last time?” Roy laughed quietly. 

Danny paused for a moment, thinking about them in the bathroom of another dressing room a few months ago.  The position was the same, but the mood a polar opposite - hungry lust that night versus sensual comfort in the here and now.  He watched as Roy settled with his back to the wall between windows, clearly replaying that night as well.

“Yeah, but no corset no one waiting on us.  Right?” 

“Shouldn’t be.  Who else knows you’re here?” 

Danny moved to flip the lock on the door, also an improvement from the ABCD venue.  “Just John and Mom.  And the guy who let me in, he wanted to see my ID and everything and said he’d only do it if I signed his ass for his girlfriend.  Oh, and the blonde lady.  Faye?  She said hi when I was coming up the stairs.  And uhh, maybe some people I passed in the hall?” 

Instead of becoming impatient waiting for Danny to finish the list, Roy looked more amused with every name, reading between the lines.  “Okay, so half the cast?” 

“…yeah.  What did you tell them?” 

“Nothing to worry about, pussyface.  Just every dick pic you’ve ever sent me and that video of-“ 

“Hey!  You said you deleted it when I asked you to send it!” 

Roy chuckled, not the showy laugh but something quieter and more intimate. 

“I’m kidding.  And I couldn’t delete it, what else am I going to jerk off to in the tub?” 

“You know,” Danny narrowed his eyes, “I still can’t always tell when you’re serious.” 

That set off a Bianca cackle of glee. 

“Get back here, bitch,” he accompanied the words with a tug on Danny’s shirt.  “I missed you.” 

******** 

Ten minutes later, Roy’s sweater was off but otherwise they were still where they started, necking like teenagers in the backseat of a car with hands above the waist.  Danny was careful not to mark him, nothing that couldn’t be covered up easily.  He might not care right now if his castmates knew what they’d been up to, but Danny really was trying to work on the whole professional thing.  

Roy’s ankles were crossed just below Danny’s ass, and he used them to pull their bodies closer.  He groaned against his lips when the erection Danny had been successfully not grinding into him made contact with his thigh. 

“Was wondering if you were too tired from the flight,” Roy teased. 

“Hey, I can’t help it!”  He’d been trying to let Roy set the (extremely slow) pace and not push for more.  “You make me hard.”  Something else was contributing as well, but he kept that to himself for now.  

“Save it till we get back?  Should be a taxi outside, and-“ Roy was already hopping off the table and shoving clothes into his bag. 

“I can, but we don’t have to wait if you don’t want.” 

Slipping his glasses back on, Roy pinned him with a look.  “I really don’t have anything on me in here.  And-“ 

Danny cut him off again, actually ahead of Roy’s infamous over-preparedness for once.  Way ahead.  Possibly the only time, but he’d take it.  He reached into the outer pocket of his own bag, coming up with a travel sized bottle of lube and a condom. 

“Ta da!” 

As he watched, Roy licked his lips and closed his eyes briefly.  When they opened again, he shivered in anticipation at the hungry expression.  Danny recognized the signs of suppressed arousal, and moved closer until they were toe to toe.  

“You can have me right here,” he whispered intimately, “if that’s what you want.” 

“Considering what I’d like to do, you’d be more comfortable at mine.” The calmness of Roy’s voice was belied by his hands clenching against Danny’s sides.

“Nuh uhh.  I’m ready.” 

“…what?” 

“Airport.  Delta lounge.  I told you, I’m here for you however you need.” 

Roy’s gulp was audible, and Danny’s smile widened.  Apparently Bianca was the one picking up Adore’s traits, and not the other way around.  Glancing down, he could see a bulge outlined by Roy’s thin pants, nipples hard against the fabric of his tank top. 

“In fact…” Danny trailed his hand across Roy’s chest, tweaking a nipple through his shirt before sliding down to cup his growing erection.  “I’ve got a surprise for you.” 

It took a moment for the words to register, and Roy’s mouth was dry when he finally spoke. 

“More than just being here?” 

Danny caught Roy’s hands, lifting them to run his tongue over the sensitive skin between his fingers.  Truth be told, he was a bit uncomfortable, but the thought of doing something for Roy who was always a generous lover…well, it didn’t take away the slight awkwardness, but it was worth it. 

He guided their joined hands behind his back, nudging Roy to slip his hand under the waistband of his jeans.  His fingers skated over the edge of the jockstrap, squeezing a little more aggressively as they moved towards the center.  Danny locked their eyes together, tongue flicking across Roy’s palm as his other hand pulled aside the thong and came in contact with silicone. 

Danny had precisely six seconds between Roy finding the plug and then finding himself face down across the table.  All traces of diffidence and hesitation gone, he ground his clothed erection against Danny’s ass and grabbed a fistful of hair to yank his head back sharply.  His eyes were dark with want when their gazes met, breath fanning hot over Danny’s cheek. 

Roy paused for a fraction of a second, waiting for Danny’s slight nod.  The kiss he pressed to Danny’s temple was gentle acknowledgement before using his grip to shove him back down roughly.  His hands made quick work of Danny’s fly, jeans dropping to the floor for him to step out of and revealing the black straps hidden underneath.  Roy moaned low in his throat at the sight.  Danny’s ass was just as gorgeous as his thousands of Instagram followers knew, framed and lifted by the underwear, but he wasn’t bending over for them. 

He took the opportunity to look his fill, discarding his own loose pants and shirt and giving his cock a few slow strokes.  Danny wiggled his ass enticingly, and Roy could see him grinning against the tabletop, reflected in the lights on the window.  He squeezed one cheek and then the other before slapping Danny’s hip sharply. 

“You fucking cunt,” he groaned, affection warring with lust in his voice, “I can’t believe you.” 

Danny responded by reaching back to wrap his fingers around Roy’s cock, rubbing the head firmly against his ass.  “Only for you.” 

It was meant to be seductive and smug, but the quiet sincerity hung in the air between them, even as Roy could feel himself leaking over Danny’s fingers.  There was that thing they didn’t discuss.  

He leaned forward to kiss the back of Danny’s neck, fumbling for the condom as nimble fingers smeared the wetness down his shaft.  Danny’s thumb flicked over the slit, and Roy moaned out a curse, unable to resist thrusting into the tight grip. 

Pulling back reluctantly, he rolled the condom on and reached for the lube, running a teasing finger along the strap of Danny’s thong.  As he popped open the bottle, he took the opportunity to hook his finger underneath and stretched the strap before letting go abruptly.  It pinged back, the sound of elastic striking the silicone overshadowed by Danny’s surprised yelp. 

“Motherfu-“ 

Roy repeated the action, wicked grin forming as Danny whined. 

“I’m not fucking anyone’s mother.  Pussy isn’t-” 

“Fuck off.”  Danny twisted to look at him over his shoulder, face gone serious.  “Bianca isn’t invited tonight.” 

The automatic response was ninety five percent Roy, but he knew what Danny meant. "Sorry.“

“Hurry up, I’m fucking horny as fuck.”  Danny’s voice was back to playful, and Roy drizzled a generous amount of lube over his cock, hissing at the cool liquid. 

As soon as he set the bottle down, Danny was shimmying out of the thong, jockstrap still in place.  Pressing his chest against the table, he spread his legs a little wider and Roy was treated to the sight of dark purple silicone against skin shining with slickness that had nothing to do with his cock.  He’d have to remember to ask Danny later about fingering himself open in an airport bathroom… 

Tracing the base of the plug with one finger, Roy leaned forward until he was nuzzling right under Danny’s ear.  “Sure?  Last chance to change your mind and we can do this in a bed.” 

Danny looked up through heavy-lidded eyes.  Even Adore at her most seductive had nothing on his kiss-bitten lips and the invitation written in the curve of his back.  Roy knew full well it wasn’t surrender or submission.  Sex between them was as hot as it was precisely because they both kept a modicum of control. 

“Fuck.  Me.” 

The velvet-smooth, whiskey-deep demand went straight to his cock, balls tightening.  Straightening, he pinned Danny to the table with a hand between his shoulders and pulled the plug out before pushing all the way in in a single powerful thrust.  A loud moan that rose to end on a breathless whimper punched out from Danny’s lungs, and Roy let go of his shoulder to slap the hand over his mouth instead. 

He dropped the body warmed silicone and wrapped his fingers around the crest of Danny’s hip, gripping just below the band of his jockstrap.  It took a few seconds for the thrill of feeling Danny snug and slick and oh so hot around his cock to settle into something manageable.  When it felt like he wasn’t teetering on the edge of coming, he pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward again once, twice, a dozen times in quick succession. 

Danny’s hands braced against the windowsill, shoving back to meet Roy’s thrusts.  Reflected in the glass, he looked drunk on lust, eyes unfocused and cheeks red above Roy’s hand as he pulled in harsh breaths through his nose.  Each slap of his hips meeting Danny’s ass was followed with muffled moans and whines vibrating against his palm. 

Danny gripped the sill with knuckles gone white, fighting for the leverage to match Roy’s forceful fucking.  Roy was thick enough that he’d be feeling the stretch for hours after they finished, even with the ample preparation.  Every thrust pushed his hips against the edge of the table, bursts of friction against fabric an insufficient tease for his own painfully hard cock. 

On any given day, Danny wasn’t particularly inclined to bottom for most of his partners.  Besides the physical discomfort, it was difficult to be that vulnerable, and equally challenging to come during the act of fucking itself.  Roy was, as ever, an exception.  They still had occasional moments of awkwardness, but it was so much easier to manage when you weren’t worried about what the other person was thinking.  The sound of Roy’s moans alone, the barely audible whimper when he bottomed out, the half-choked back fucks and so good he forced out, were pure erotic music.  Coupled with what Danny could see reflected in the window…more than enough to keep him hard and leaking. 

The vanity bulbs cast their corner of the room in harsh light and shadow, washing out colors and bringing details into sharp contrast.  Roy’s eyes were mostly closed, mouth open as he gasped for air, lips and chest flushed a dusky hue.  His hair was soaked with sweat and clinging to his forehead, stomach muscles flexing with every powerful thrust.      

Shifting his chin up, Danny set his teeth against Roy’s palm and bit down.  He felt so open, but it wasn’t enough.  Not yet.   

Their eyes met in the glass, Danny’s heavy with desire and Roy’s glazed over with pleasure.  He slowed the rhythm of his hips, pulling his hand back from Danny’s mouth as he buried his cock deep before leaning down.  Danny’s whimper in response was drowned out by Roy’s husky growl as he clenched down.  Turning his head, he met Roy’s mouth in an awkwardly angled kiss. 

“Still okay?”  The hand that had been squeezing bruises into Danny’s hip came up to stroke the hair back from his face. 

“…yeah.  M’good.” 

Roy shuddered at the sound of Danny’s sex-ruined voice, hips giving an involuntary jerk.  He curved his fingers around Danny’s cheek in an intimate gesture at odds with the roughness moments ago. 

“Do you -  oh fuck…do you want to change?”  

Danny nodded, pushing his chest off the table and wincing as Roy pulled out.  He boosted himself up to lie flat, smiling thanks when Roy tucked his discarded sweater between his head and the painted brick.  The jockstrap joined the pile of other clothes on the floor and he planted both feet on the edge of the table, legs spread wide around Roy’s hips. 

Black-nailed fingers carefully traced his stretched hole, slicking it with more lube before sliding inside to stroke the cool liquid onto heated flesh. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkk,” Danny breathed out, palming his own cock and smearing sticky pre-come across the shaft.  The moan turned into a series of whimpers when Roy moved his hand aside, replacing it with his own fingers. 

”Don’t gotta.”  Danny caught his hand clumsily as Roy reached for a condom.  “ ‘m clean.”

“Bitch,” that was definitely a stare Bianca borrowed from Roy as he paused mid-stroke, “why didn’t you tell me before?”

”Not walking back with your cum dripping out of my-“ His words cut off with a moan when Roy deliberately twisted the fingers still knuckle-deep in his ass.

”When have I ever- never mind.”  

Tossing the condom aside, he licked a wet stripe from base to tip, smearing pre-come over his lips, then curled his tongue around the leaking head to draw it into his mouth.   Danny thrust up into heat and tightness, cock sliding over Roy’s swollen lips as he sucked and finger-fucked him.  Two fingers became three, Roy’s moans matching Danny’s with every thrust as he lost himself in pleasuring him.

Danny tugged on his hair a minute later, and Roy let his cock fall from his mouth reluctantly.  He stood with a kiss to a trembling inner thigh, slipping his fingers out. 

“Ready?” 

“Mmmmhmmmm.” 

Danny pressed his shoulders against the table, arching up in invitation.  He kept his eyes open, locked on Roy as he pushed back in slowly.  Catching one of Danny’s legs in the crook of his arm, Roy tipped his hips up to slide in deeper than before.  He paused there, buried to the hilt in Danny’s ass and rocking gently.  

“Fuck…”  If Danny voice was lust-drunk before, he sounded positively fucked out now.  “Oh fuck, B…”  

“Yeah? S’it good?”  Roy kept up the barely-there roll of his hips, fucking into him in a way that made them both moan and Roy wish that he could feel it without a layer of latex between them. That was something (the one thing?) they’d never tried, mutual avoidance of even discussing the possibility.  Roy told himself it was only because it was too risky despite precautions… too much like commitment.

Danny wrapped his free leg around Roy’s trim waist, slipping against sweaty skin and fingers tracing the line left from the corset.  He clamped his heel against the small of his back, effectively preventing Roy from pulling out more than a couple of inches.  Every movement Roy made inside of him felt exquisitely sensitive, from the stretch of his sore hole around the thick cock to the spark of lightning up his spine when he bottomed out.  

Reaching up, he traced over Roy’s throat, fingers traveling across his chin to caress his lips.  Roy caught a teasing finger gently between his teeth and wrapped his lips around it.  Mimicking the actions performed on Danny’s cock, he sucked the full length and lavished attention on the fingertip with his tongue while moaning around it.

The wet pop when Danny pulled his finger free went straight to his balls.  He tugged Roy down until their lips met, hips setting up a counterpoint to the deliciously slow fucking.  Roy always kissed with his eyes open, something that Danny didn’t understand but appreciated in the urgent kisses as they panted into each other’s mouth.  Despite the obscenely sexual context, his eyes held a different kind of intensity mingled with lust.

When Roy tilted his hips a little further up, the new angle provoked a breathless whimper.  He concentrated his thrusts until he heard it again and focused on driving his cock into that spot over and over, Danny’s whimpers mingling with his own satisfied moans.  Danny’s hand dropped from behind his neck, knocking aside bouquets to clamp onto the edge of the table.  Petals scattered around and underneath him and onto the floor, filling the room with the heady scent of roses.

Roy slid his hand underneath Danny’s head, fingers gripping sex-tangled hair as he pressed their cheeks together, needing to be somehow closer.  The motion pushed Danny’s leg further back against his chest, nails digging into Roy’s arm with every thrust.  Maintaining his white-knuckled grip on the table felt like the only thing keeping him anchored, the only thing keeping Danny from blurting out endearments and pleas and promises on each breath.  

He bit down on Roy’s shoulder when he felt his free hand slide between them to circle his cock, jerking him off in tight strokes.  The relentlessly deliberate rhythm of fucking was driving them both to the edge.  Moments later, a wordless, high-pitched whine meant Roy was close, chasing his own orgasm and determined to bring Danny along.  

“Oh fuck…” Roy’s exclamation was barely audible over the sound of their bodies meeting.  “Close, angel.  Can’t…M’gonna-“

Danny clenched down around him, growling against Roy’s shoulder before releasing it from his teeth.  His voice was raspy, ruined when he whispered, “Let go.  Come for me.”

Roy inhaled sharply, driving his cock as far in as possible, and came with a strangled moan. Danny kept up a string of satisfied murmurs and yes, that’s it as Roy rode out his orgasm, hand gone slack between them.  

Letting go of the table, he pushed the nerveless hand aside and rapidly stroked himself, hips rocking to rub the head of his cock against Roy’s stomach.  Roy was still coming down when Danny arched underneath him and cried out his own release, whimpering as he tensed around his over sensitive cock.

Danny opened his eyes an indeterminate amount of time later, legs dropping to hang off the edge of the table.  Roy wasn’t precisely dead weight on his upper body, but it wasn’t far off.  His hand moved to the slick place where they were joined together, caressing the still-throbbing shaft before shoving Roy back with his knuckles.  

“Out.  Sore.”

Roy was gentle pulling out, but he still winced at the slide.  Catching the expression before he could hide it, Roy frowned.

“Too hard?”

”Nah.”

”You’re supposed to tell me if it hurts.”  Roy paused with the condom halfway off, concern written over his face.  “Pussyface, I’ll stop.  You know that.”

”Nuh uhh.”  Speaking in more than single syllables seemed like too much work. “S’good. Just…” Danny’s lips twitched into a hint of a smile, “you.  You’re big.”

Roy huffed out a breath of laughter, reaching for a makeup towel and bottle of water to clean them off.  He soothed the skin with soft touches as he swept away lube and sweat before wiping the cum off their bodies.  A twinge of guilt tugged at him when Danny hissed as he held him open to run the towel gently between his legs.  

Tossing the damp towel into a pile, he held out his hands.

”C’mere.”

They ended up collapsing on the nearby couch together, Danny half on top of him.  The silence was filled with breathing slowly returning to normal, air now stuffy with the smell of sex and crushed roses.

”Thank you.”

Danny raised his head at the quiet words.  Roy wasn’t usually chatty after sex, preferring to communicate in touch until they finished coming down. 

Unsure of the meaning, he answered with a noncommittal, “Mmmm?”

”For this.  Doing this for me.”  Danny tried to prop himself up further, pausing when Roy’s arms tightened around his shoulders.

”What…?  I got off too.”  He pushed against Roy’s chest until he loosened his grip enough for Danny to see his face.

Roy’s dark eyes were half-lidded in sated pleasure, but they were filled with the same intense something from earlier while they were fucking.

He chose the next words carefully, even as he still wasn’t quite sure why it felt important. 

“Anything for you, Willow.”

[headinclouds-universe]

Valentines Fic Fun because I'm Aussie and it's tomorrow for us!

Petyr x Sansa NSFW not too raunchy but let's just say if I had more then 10% battery I had a different ending planned 😘😜🙃

--------------

If you had asked him a 10 months ago if he would be attending the Kings Landing Valentines Ball... he would of said yes, unfortunately like every other year.

After mingeling with the usual egotistical and obnoxious wealthy of KL (whom were invited due to money alone, certainly not smarts), he was then forced to also make nice with big business CEO's. Most of whom would ask for hints oh his next big buy up, or his next project, looking for any kind of hint. They were overly friendly and overly familiar while they sold themselves to him on their ability to be useful as a potential partner, advisor or manager even, when he was ready... on the hush hush for now of course.

With his scotch in hand he looked for a higher view to find the women who was slowly consuming his every thought.

He was only more tolerable of all the pomp due to the main reason he was slightly more keen to attend the ball tonight then in previous years. His phone had buzzed a few times today with a rather raunch glimps into her 'getting ready' routine. Soaking in a deep bath with her long legs on display, red rose petals covering the view of her own red rose he knew intimately and often. He had sent her those roses and a bottle of Chanel 5, he had shopped with her enough to know it was favourite but she had never owned a bottle herself. He had to stop himself buying her a new car or taking her overseas for a month, both would draw too much attention. The photos he had been sent though told him he had done very well with the early morning delivery to her apartment. Little did she know of the gift in his upper left breast pocket. He wondered what she would do once she received them.

At that thought he sighed deeply has he took a sip of his drink and felt the familiar amber liquid warm his chest. A familiar body pressed against his back and arms wrapped around him from behind, giving him a warmth like nothing else. He thought he heard her take in his scent and she gave a sigh of content, what a pair they were.

" Sneaking is my job, I've been looking for you", he said while they stayed in that position a little longer.

"I'll just bet you have", he felt her kiss and then mumble into the back of his neck. " Did you like the photos?"

Petyr knew she would be blushing at what she had done earlier and if he hadn't been hard before remembering those photos, he was rock hard now. Every now and then Sansa would initiate a naughty side and later her shyness would surface and he adored it. While one hand still nursed his scotch the other covered one of her hands and slowly ghosted it over his belt and then cupped their hands lower of his bulge. His hand curled around hers while gripping him firmly for some slight release. Sansa must have been satisfied with his response and felt her pelvis subconsciously press firmer to his ass to find her own release of arousel.

He set his drink on the balcony but mindful not to set it to close to the edge, they didn't need attention drawn up here. They had had 9 months of blissful sneaking around and this was not the night for announcements of this kind. Plus her mother, father and brother were in that crowd down there somewhere. While it delighted Petyr at getting caught by the stuffy and prim Starks, it would distress Sansa.

He finely held her in his arms and offered her a kiss worthy of being apart the 14 long hard days it had been. The most since being together and he noted the toll it had taken oh his ability to conduct business has usual. He had ment to go no further given she was back in KL and able to sneak back to his place tonight but his body had other ideas and she wasn't complaining.

Sansa didnt remember feeling them move away from the balcony and to the wall behind her. His scent and the taste of scotch was all she was aware of and she could care less about anything else. 14 days. 14 fucking days without him and it was all she could do not to mope around Winterfell playing happy families with her family and two knew additions, Jon and Robb's girlfriends. It was only through their texts and their brief chats while she walked the woods of Winterfell that she had lasted that long.

" Did you keep your hands off like I told you to do", her breath hitched at his question and his light opened mouth kisses on her neck.

" Yes", she tried to think of something sexy and witty but she was lost in the 14 days of sexual tension boiling over. Her lacy Brazil cut underwear was wet and she grabbed the labels of his jacket to help keep her leaning up right against the wall.

Petyr had hoped she would follow his orders and the very thought of how wet and aroused she must be made him loose his mind.

"Good girl", his voice sounding more husky then usual. He continued to kiss, lightly bite and suck her neck while he leaned on hand on the wall beside her head and the other drifted up her very high slit of her gown. He missed her mouth, he missed her body, he missed her thighs and what laid between but he also just missed her. So consumed by her now he pressed his body on hers and gripped her firmly through her lacy underwear. Her hands gripping his ass driving him mad.

Her moan was loud enough to her own ears and some scenes, though slightly foggy returned to her. Her mother and father were down there and could come looking for her any moment. Reluctantly she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him slightly away. He must of known the risky situation too, he eased up from her only slightly and rested his head against hers with eyes closed. Both of them were taking deep breaths and trying their best for some kind of control and even ground again.

Her left hand rubbed his chest and it was then she felt a small square box underneath the exspensive material of his tuxedo jacket. He must have realised what she had felt and opened his eyes and looked into hers. Sansa watched him smoothly use one hand to slightly open his jacket while the other disappeared briefly, only to return with a small black box.

Petyr was worried all of a sudden how the small black box could look like something else he wasn't ready for, so he held it up for her to take. Her whole face was transfixed has she brought her hands up to except the smooth black box and lift open the hinged lid. Her jaw dropped while she looked at the stunning emerald and platinum earrings he had purchased last month. The owner had allowed him to come after hours to glimps at his selection, money talked.

Sansa couldn't believe how beautiful the earrings were and that he had gifted them to her. Her eyes left the emeralds to gaze at his while she kissed him and hugged him tightly. Her lips against his still while she said thank you.

"Happy Valentine's Day sweetling".

Note: photos not mine and like usual when not traveling and back on my laptop, I'll go back and edit.

[ericboyd]

WHAT IS PAID FOR

The lock came off easy—they only screwed a hinged hasp on the outside—it took a hard shove to get past a chair barricading the door. As I pushed my way in I heard a screeching crash. Lucky nobody was around. It was my first time bidding on a sheriff’s sale property, and the fact that you weren’t allowed to see the inside made no sense. I’d saved up a few thousand dollars I wanted to keep out of the bank. After the divorce, I didn’t trust money I couldn’t hold in my hands. But in any case, that’s a lot to maybe waste on a house with a barricaded door.

The writ had the place listed on 19th Avenue. Most of the block was for sale. I knew the area, used to live in town. Over the years a lot of buildings nearby were rented or sold as halfway houses that never got looked after, taken care of. Down a few blocks a kid that heard voices set a huge fire that took out two buildings. Seemed like, one way or another, more people were leaving this town than staying. But if the property was cheap enough, I’d take a look.

The outside of the house wasn’t much to look at, but not terrible. A modest mill hunky’s home from the old days, when this was a boomtown. I was more interested in what was inside. Through the front door was the living room. The kitchen was on the left, through a beaded doorway, taking up a corner. The fridge was open and the mint linoleum counters were bubbled, cracking. I tried noting everything to keep track of how much it’d cost to get the house up and going; after all, just because you buy something doesn’t mean you’ve paid for it.

The air was damp. I opened the blinds to let some streetlight into the living room. The walls were deep yellow, almost amber, with smoke. A harsh smell of crushed cigarette butts. Empty packs of Doral Light Menthols were scattered on the floor, mostly around the white leather couch.

I sat down and turned off my flashlight. So far the house wasn’t horrible, or, at least, there’s worse out there. One time, I almost bid on a house without a roof. That’s why they don’t let you view the property. A guy I first met at the VFW, Terry, he liked to joke about that one, saying whoever got that house had a black cloud over them soon as they stepped inside. Terry got me interested in the Sales, he’d done it a few times. One house he got for less than $1,000, this place once owned by a guy that was serving for a few armed robberies. Terry flipped it to this little family and they paid everything up front. They were there about three months. One day a neighbor called the cops because they hadn’t seen anyone going in or out for a while. They were stacked up in the attic like lincoln logs, next to piles of ripped up newspaper. Supposedly one of the cops found a bundle of cash the previous owner missed, wrapped up in the paper and stuffed in the rafters. The place went up for auction again but Terry didn’t touch it.

Sneaking into the properties was the only way to be sure, he told me. I was learning quick. One time, Terry said, he went into a house and checked out the bathroom; in it was a handsome old tub, the kind with lion’s feet. But inside the tub was the house’s oven. He said he just closed the bathroom door and left. He never bid on that one. But he’d learned how to bid on others, and made some good money doing it. He got me interested in it because I wanted to do it better than he did. He got me interested in it because I hated him.

I took a pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket and lit one. On the three-legged coffee table was a manila envelope and a brochure for WIC. I set my flashlight down to glance the brochure, then heard a noise below me, like a scurry. Probably a rat, a problem that could cost as much as a hammer or the entire house. The only other doorway was on the left side of the wall in front of me. I grabbed my flashlight and walked over slowly. The door led down to a basement. I heard another scurry.

I scanned the basement. Unfinished; junk everywhere. The smell of mold floated up and lined my nose like silt. Going further in, another noise—this time behind me—but nothing. I whipped my head around the room, swinging my flashlight in every corner. Cigarette ash fell onto my shirt and burned. Damn polyester polos. The flashlight fell from my hand as I beat my chest frantically. I patted it out, feeling a hole in my shirt big enough to poke a finger through. I retrieved the flashlight and continued looking. If there were rats, I didn’t see any.

Next to the fuse box I noticed a sort of knick-knack mantel as I started to go back up the steps. A few recent Iron City beer cans from the Steelers’ last two championships, all emptied out the bottom. Next to the cans was a cigar box; inside, sandwich baggies with numbers written on them, each containing a dried flower. Underneath the baggies were old photographs. Some professional, some snapshots, a few polaroids; each photo highlighted the flower in it. Carnations and sequins. Red roses and white dresses, white roses and black dresses. A few more. There were all these things in the house I had been paying attention to, but I wasn’t thinking about what they meant. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be in there, but I was beginning to feel like I shouldn’t be.

Back on the ground floor I peered down the hall, a door at the end and another on the right side. I walked down carefully, trying to listen for any more noises. The walls were lined with nails, picture frames littered the ground. I opened the door straight ahead, which went into the bathroom. It was small, filled with soft light from the street outside, coming in through a brick-glass window above the tub. The walls were covered in hokey black velvet wallpaper with embossed gold leaf designs that couldn’t possibly be holding up to the moisture of a bathroom, but I bet the owners liked it. I opened the mirror above the sink. Next to a flat tube of toothpaste was an orange pill bottle, no label, filled with liquid. I picked it up and saw the top of lid was written on: Holy Water. I put it back.

Behind the door on the right was the bedroom. I peeked my head in; the first thing I saw on the vanity dresser was the top of an old wedding cake— I didn’t enter.

I needed to sit down and think everything over. Maybe this wasn’t for me. I went down the hall and back into the living room. A woman stood there, by the couch. Her silhouette was tall and thin. She was smoking one of my cigarettes. So pale she almost glowed. The room grew and shrank. I felt dizzy, ill, staring at the front door. I had to get out of this house.

From opposite ends of the room our faces briefly illuminated for one another with each nervous draw of our cigarettes. I’d been rummaging through her life for the past hour. Choked up, the woman said, “This is mine. This isn’t yours.”

“Who is he?” I asked.

“None of your business.” Francine tried closing the door in my face.

The divorce had been final less than a week. I signed everything and tried not to think about the reasons why. She even got custody of Justin—that hurt. I could try to deal with it as long as I got my rightful visits, but it became something else when I called to pick up a few things and a man answered the phone. I went to the house—our house—and she wouldn’t let me in.

“You don’t owe me a thing, sure. That’s not my business, but it does goddamn concern me who’s in there with my six-year old son.”

Francine’s eyes widened. “It’s not some pervert, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“A stranger’s a stranger.” I paused. “Or have you known him a while?” The smell of pork chops drifted from the kitchen window on the side of the house. My favorite.

“Be civil, Warren.” Terry came to the door. “How’s come I’m some terrible monster all of a sudden?” He smiled. “I’ve known Justin all his life.”

“You sonofa—”

“Warren, be civil,” he said again. “Your eyes’s buggin’ out, we don’t need anybody taking a heart attack. Just be cordial.”

“How long?” I asked. Either of them could have answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Francine said.

“Just another thing that’s none of my business, huh?” I started to shove my way into the house. Terry pushed Francine out the way; she fell and, as much as I hated her then, I hated him for touching her that way.

“I’ll make your boy a bastard,” he said. There was something in his hand behind the door. “I don’t want to.”

I looked over his shoulder. Francine was getting up from the floor, dusting her legs off and clearing her hair off her face. “He hurt you?” I asked.

“Hoping he’ll hurt you,” she said. “Go home.”

What a thing to say, I thought.

“I understand you being mad,” Terry said. “I’d be mad, too.”

“I thought—”

“We are,” he said. “We’re friends, and I’m sorry. That’s why I keep saying it, let’s be amicable about all this.”

“You’re just a regular damn thesaurus, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Get him out of here, Terry!”

“Now, now. He has a right to get his things, at least.”

“He has the right to kiss my ass.”

The door closed in my face. Muffled, I could hear Terry say, “Ain’t nobody kissing that big ass but me.” Then giggles. The sound of their steps.

I waited, looking around the house for a while. Terry couldn’t wait to get a Trump sign in my yard; the last time we’d spoken at the VFW he was getting on me for wearing a Sanders pin. I told him some kid gave it to me, but actually I’d bought it myself. A waste of three bucks then, but hopefully Terry was wasting his money now. Honestly though, I didn’t hold out much hope. America never does the right thing until it does the wrong thing first.

No sun and no clouds that day. No nothing. I thought me and Francine were doing all right, making an honest go of it. Definitely didn’t think our marriage was the “living hell” she called it. Maybe I should have known, could have seen something, fixed something. Maybe not. Maybe people lay foundations for you that just blow away like sand. It’s not even their fault when it happens. Things just happen. I didn’t blame Francine; nobody knew how hard I was to live with than her, but Terry? Who the fuck was he? Some slick barfly that flipped houses and, apparently, stole them outright.

The door reopened. Terry had some of my things boxed up and on a handcart. “You can take all this today, maybe come back in a few days for the rest. Fran says she wants that chair of yours out by the end of the week. I’ll try to talk her down.” He grinned lazily.

He wasn’t holding whatever he had earlier. I lunged toward him. We rolled around for a while before I got to being on top of him. I grabbed him by the collar, ready to jerk his head down onto the front steps.

“Hey! Hey!” Francine shouted from the doorway. “I’ll call the cops! I’m going to call the cops!” I saw Justin run up behind her and hug her leg. He stared at me.

I looked at Terry and whispered, “Now you fucking be civil.”

“I’m gonna call the cops,” Francine said.

“Hey buddy,” I looked at Justin. “Me and Uncle Terry were just wrestling.”

Justin tried to smile.

“Uh, yeah,” Terry said. “Just having a little fun.”

“You sure have been, huh?” I said, then turned to Justin again. “See, watch this! Here comes the People’s Elbow!” I hopped up slightly and came down on Terry’s chest as hard as I could, knocking the wind out of him. Justin wasn’t smiling anymore. He knew exactly what was happening. Probably better than I did.

Between gasps, Terry said, “You can have that one.”

“That’s right,” I was trying not to choke up. “You already got everything else.”

I threw the boxes in the trunk of my car and waved to Justin, who was on top of Terry’s shoulders. Through the rearview mirror I watched my son start to wave back, then drop his hand. He became smaller—engulfed by the house, the street, the neighborhood—until he was gone.

The woman stared at me, nearly in tears. Her hand was clutching something. I said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t realize…” That wasn’t true. I realized, but the thing was, I didn’t care.

“I don’t have much,” she said. Her hand gripped into a fist.

“Ma’am, I been too clever by half tonight, and I see that was foolish. I’m leaving now.”

Something like snowflakes fell between her fingers. Her hand opened and a crumpled dandelion stem dropped to the carpet. She moved toward me. “You can stay. Nobody stays.”

I thought of shoving past her and running away, out the door and down the street. I imagined the yellow glow of my flashlight waving wild against the ground and the trees; imagined going past my car, the Avenues, my old house, myself. But I didn’t. “You’re right, ma’am.” We sat down on the floor across from one another. “Nothing and nobody.”

This story was originally published in Gulf Stream.

[cutiecrates]

Cutie Reviews: Kawaii Box Oct 18

Hello! Welcome to the October 2018 Kawaii Box review :3

Before I begin I wanted to let you guys know that I will finally be making a purchase at Blippo.com -the official shop relates to Kawaii Box- this upcoming month. I don’t really have any plans in mind as to what I’ll be getting, but my goal is to spend over $25.00, as this is the limit needed to obtain a “free gift” and I’m curious to see what it pertains. I’ll be making a follow-up blog post about the whole experience, items, etc, when it comes.

Without further ado, let’s get on with the review!

This months theme: Kawaii Halloween!

This months word: Kabocha - Pumpkin

Kawaii Neko Pocket Mirror

Our first item is this ultra-cute pocket mirror with an adorable kitty in a cup with Please written on it. I’m not sure what the writing on top translates as- but isn’t this the cutest thing ever~?

From the book and Blippo website, I assume there was various alternate designs/colors you could receive, I couldn’t find this exact model on there but they had a bunch of cute ones like it ranging from $3.90-$4.90.

The mirror is very clear and easy to clean, and because there’s two sides of it you can easily see whatever angle you’re trying to get.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Besides being really cute, I was actually surprised by this. In the past, a long time ago I’ve gotten a couple of folding, flimsy, plastic mirrors. They got the job done and they were really cute too- but there was always that risk they would break you know?

This mirror is perfect! The outside feels very sturdy, I’m not sure what type of material it is but I’m not nearly as worried about it breaking in comparison to my others. I’ll definitely be putting it in my purse and taking out the other one.   

Kawaii Neko Bag Charm & Kawaii Onigiri Plush Charm

(they look a bit alike, right?)

Our first item is the neko bag charm, the perfect little companion to cutify the day (and your purse/bag/pouch/pants loop/etc). These are available in 3 different styles, and each costs $4.50 <_< I was a little surprised to find that out, I assume it’s a material thing?

Besides being an adorable charm, there is also a big slit on the back. Now, the booklet nor Blippo mention this, but usually that means the charm can be used to discretely hold change!

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I just want to mention that as a warning if you would try to use this or something similar to hold coins, BE CAREFUL. While feeling around I discovered a sharp pointed piece on the inside of the top area, which is connected to the keychain. That makes it really sturdy- but it’s not worth using if you’re worried about harming yourself. It’s perfectly safe as a charm though.

Anyway, I think it’s very cute (I love its cheeks x3) and the detailing is really good. This would be ideal if you prefer smaller, non-plush charms but still want the appeal of a cute character.

Next to go with the neko charm, we have a plush onigiri (rice ball) charm. It came in 4 various expressions, and each costs $2.90. 

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I love rice, so this would be the perfect charm for me ♥ It’s also very soft, and the details are stitched on and look very clean (except for one little strand on the one blush). It’s just precious~

I should have bought the other three, then I could’ve swapped them out to fit my mood.

Halloween Ghost Squishy

This little cutie is perfect if you’re an avid squishy collector and want something for the holidays :P It was available for $4.90 on the Blippo website, but it’s no longer listed. This doesn’t seem like a hard squishy to find though if you’re interested in it; and they did have some other cute Halloween squishy (and ghosties) there.

It’s mentioned to be scented and it is- exactly like most other squishy. I think it would have been adorable if it smelled like vanilla, or pumpkin.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

It’s very cute and ultra-soft. But I noticed mine has a bunch of shedding areas, the “lining“ is very messy and could use a trim, and there are a few tiny coloring issues, but I have seen way worse squishy and it isn’t really that bad; especially if you just want something soft to squeeze. This is amazing.

Halloween Stickers

Continuing our adorable ghost and Halloween trend, we got an adorable family of ghost stickers! On Blippo these were available for $1.90, they kind of remind me of dollar store stickers.

The sheet was full when I got it, don’t worry. I used some of the stickers to seal some wrapping in a package I was preparing for my friend because I was in a position where I didn’t have the time to look for my tape and I had to hurry up.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

They’re very cute and I love the various poses and styles. I’m not too crazy about repetitive sticker sheets like this- but when this happens it’s at least nice knowing I don’t have to feel sad for using a sticker I liked.

I’m not the only one who gets like that right...?

I wish they were a little big bigger, but at the same time there is something to be said for adorable little stickers, although they can be a tiny bit hard to get off the sheet. Stickiness is 10 out of 10.

Kanahei Sticky Notes

I’ve noticed the Usagi and Piske duo beginning to show up a little more often in the boxes as of late. I don’t mind though, they’re pretty cute.

These are available in both sticky note format or the one I got which is called “foldadble message fusen notes”, both types for $2.90 in a few different styles.

I finally understand how these work because of the “tutorial“ on the back. Basically you write something in the middle, then you take the paper and fold it so the middle is hidden by the top and bottom of the image to create a seamless note that looks like there isn’t anything there. Then you open it to find the note.

Unfortunately... by the time I got mine folded properly, the note was so beaten up I decided to trash it. For such an easy concept it’s actually a little hard >3<

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Despite that issue, I still think these are ultra-cute~ Especially this breakfast themed one, it would be perfect for inviting someone to breakfast or wishing them a good morning x3

Sanrio Sticky Bookmarks & Ciara Unicorn Card Protector

(In hindsight I should have put the sticky bookmarks with the message notes...)

Our first item in the picture is a set of Sanrio themed bookmarks based on a specific character. Each set costs anywhere from $1.90-$2.90 and includes 2 thin bookmarks, 2 mediums, 1 large, and 1 horizontal one, for a total of 90 bookmarks!

There was a huge variety of sanrio characters these were available in.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I usually don’t use these as I have bookmarks for the novels I read and I don’t have any sort of files or binders or anything in need of organization. BUT these come in handy for make-shift labels, which I have been putting them to use for :3 I love the variety of colors and sizes these come in too, usually I don’t see too much variety in one pack.

The other item is an adorable Unicorn Card Protector, available in 4 adorable pastel colors, each with it’s own unique unicorn drawing. Beneath the Ciara logo is the words “Make a girl more kawaii somewhere on a rainbow”, and on the back is a single chibi wing drawing. The front has tiny wings and stars covering it.

The protector has a flap on both the back and front, but the back flap is translucent. Each one costs $1.90.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I love unicorns, and the second I saw this I knew I would need to use it for my cards, which I will be doing after I finish this review. The one I’ve been using is pretty old and beaten up, so I figured it was time for a change.

It’s very easy to put the cards in and out of the two sides, and I was able to put about 5 cards in there with little effort. I feel like I may have been able to put in one or two more, but I didn’t have anything else nearby.

Halloween Umaibo

Our snack/food item for this box is an Umaibo, which I have no complaints against. I love these x3 although this one was extremely broken up... I’m not really sure if it was like that before I got it or after, but I’m going to assume before because I don’t throw my boxes around and beat them up like this stick was.

I wouldn’t ever turn down an Umaibo (unless it’s an intimidating flavor...) though, and it was still perfectly edible. It was corn/corn potage flavor, my favorite!

They can be bought on Blippo for $2.50 and you get 5 per purchase! But I saw a handful of them were sold out right now, I’m sure they will get more in soon though.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I’ve already made it clear that I’m obsessed with this umaibo flavor. It’s my #1 favorite, I wish they sold them in large boxes~

I also like that they gave us a Halloween packaged one... but I sorta feel like this might have been a missed opportunity. They should have chose a fall flavor, or something more associated with Halloween like pumpkins, squash, etc. I’m sure I saw something like that before.

Korean Okitoki Stationery Set

(Note the upside down pencil sharpener and toppers above it :P)

This is a nice little stationery set that provides the essentials needed for writing or a day at school. This is produced by the brand Caramel Popcorn; I’ve gotten a few items from them before. But I couldn’t find this exact set on Blippo, I did see a handful of variants, including a few bigger sets.

This set includes 2 pencils without an eraser or tip (I guess so you can pick?), 2 pencil caps, 1 glittery blue eraser with a non-taped or glued wrapping, 1 pencil sharpener, 1 Ruler with a numbered side and a bumpy side.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I actually didn’t expect very much with this set. Looking at the items and the packaging just gives it a cheap quality, but I was pleasantly surprised. The pencils and sharpener work like normal (I got very long strands from the sharpener :3 very satisfying), and the eraser is pretty to look at. You barely need to press to use it too. Ruler is flimsy but works with no problem.

My only noteworthy thing is that the pencil lids don’t seem to want to stay on if you put it on the sharpened side, but it stays fine on the other side. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose though?

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  It was a typical case of me being unsure if I liked the box much besides one or two items. I wasn’t very crazy over the abundance of stationery it seemed like we got this time, but I’ve come to enjoy it for what it is by the time I finished the review. Sometimes it’s just how it happens.

Price -  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  I didn’t count the Umaibo since it’s for a set of 5 on the Blippo website and we only get 1. I’m not good at math so there was no way I could figure that out... I also didn’t count the stationery because I didn’t see it. Without them the box is worth about $24.00, so I imagine it’s around $30.00 in total. Which is really nice since we pay around $20.00.

Theme - ♥ ♥ ♥ They could have done better. Like it was obvious the theme was Halloween, and we only got 3 Halloween items out of 10. Unless you count the 2 neko things, which kind of associate with Halloween...

Total Rank: 6 out of 10 Cuties. I appreciated the box and enjoyed it, but I wish they would strongly follow themes more. I understand they probably don’t want to force it on people who might not celebrate the holiday, but I think it’d be better not to try to enforce a theme if you don’t plan to follow it. The design of Aiko-chan on the front is adorable, but it would imply the Halloween gimmick is stronger than it actually is.

♥ Cutie Scale ♥

1. Neko Pocket Mirror - it’s my favorite shade of pink and includes a super-squishy looking adorable kitty~

2. Unicorn Card Protector - very sweet and delicate looking, and I needed a new one so it was great timing x3

3. Ghost Squishy - it might have some faults, but it’s super cute and perfect for Halloween!

4. Umaibo - I’m living for the Halloween exclusive design x3 they make really cute Holiday packaging.

5. Halloween Stickers - They’re so kawaii, I just wish there was more variations on it.

6. Neko bag charm - it’s face is so sweet and adorable, I just wish it was cuddly.

7.  Onigiri Plush charm - So soft and squishy. Do you think it’d be rude to eat Chinese food in front of it?

8. Usagi & Pitske Notes - I love the adorable pancake themed image x3 but it might just be because I’m really hungry right now. . .

9. Sanrio Sticky Bookmarks - I love the pastels and the designs~

10. Stationery Set - It’s very cute, but I’ve never been a blue girl, and the designs are extremely repetitive.

Well, that will be doing it for this review :3 Up next will be the October Tokyo Treat, and hopefully soon my first, official order from Blippo.com. As I said on top I’ll make a post about it to give you guys a look at how it goes and what I got.

Until next time remember to keep opening a box of cuteness every day!

[the-ocfeedback-gal-blog]

Yat-Sen Tay Review

TW: Anxiety, depression, eating disorder, mention of self-harm.

The-OCfeedback-Gal’s notes will be italicized.

Physical Description: Around 1.80 m (5'11") and 62 kg (136 lbs). Slightly dark, warm skin. Slim face with high cheekbones. Freckles on his nose and cheeks. He usually has a small stubble. A beauty mark on his right cheek. Full, arched lips. Very upturned, double-lid, hooded eyes. Long, dark lashes. Clear, light brown eye colour. Full, straight eyebrows that arched at the end. Hair is usually pretty curly (Type 3b) and it falls into his eyes, but he straightens it and styles it back for work. Hair colour is dark brown, his eyebrows match his hair. Bottom heavy, top slim. Prominent collarbones. Slim neck, shoulders, arms and chest. Thicker thighs, butt and legs. Average feet and hands. He shaves most of his body once a week. He wears glasses, he has two pairs. One pair is big and round, the other is the hipster style frame. He wears the second one to work. Wears a silver ring with a red jewel on his left hand and a silver watch with a red display on his left wrist. He wears a lot of burgundies. His style is usually lazy, button-up shirts with shorts and socks at home. At work, he wears formal sweaters or cardigans with cotton trousers and dress shoes.

I have a clear idea in my mind from this description.

Name: Yat-Sen (given name) Tay (surname) 

Flows off the tongue pretty well.

Species/Race: He’s a black Asian from Singapore!

This is interesting, since I know that many people who grow up in Asian countries but don’t look 100% native tend to have a very hard time feeling like an outsider and never being accepted by their own people. Does he ever have problems like this?

Age: 26. His birthday is 8th of September 1991, so he is a Virgo and Gold Goat. 

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Questionable, but probably aromantic asexual.

Friends: He has a few colleagues he gets along with and some high school buddies he gets together with from time to time, but he usually prefers not to meddle with other people. He does get acquainted with a lot of people throughout the story and even gets deeply involved with a few, but that’s later on.

Family: He has a good bond with his older sister after having patched things up with her from when he was still a teen. His dad was never really a person he could close to, a typical businessman. His mother is still bitter about the past, so he doesn’t want to make the effort to talk it out anymore since it always ends up in a fight and a lot of stress for everyone. He was close with his grandmother, but she died when he was thirteen. She would usually resolve all the quarrels between him, his mother and his sister. Pets: He finds a Fennec fox at a river in the beginning of the story. When he was little (5 years old till 13 years old) he would take care of the hedgehogs in his grandma’s garden.

A fennec is highly unusual, as they are from Africa, and the Sahara no less. That being said, they aren’t endangered so I could see one somehow getting shipped in as part of the exotic pets trade and escaping a pet store or something similar. They are very cute and likely to be sold as pets.

Hobbies: He used to like reading and writing. After he moved out he also started to enjoy cooking for himself. He’s very obsessed about his weight, so he works out a lot by jogging in the park that’s nearby his apartment and going for a swim in the pool where he is signed up at.

Sounds good in theory, but is can be hard to avoid crowds/touching people during peak times of the year at swimming pools. Does going to the pool and being in front of people in nothing but swimwear make him nervous?

Likes: Sleeping and eating healthy food. The tired and burning feeling he gets after a good work out. Water, drinking or swimming. Thunderstorms at night. Warm, scented baths. The flowers he takes care of at the park. The smell of books. Soft clothes. Doing household chores.

Dislikes: Lots of noise. Small talk. Nosy people. Crowds. Physical contact, especially from strangers. Messy rooms. Grease. Being wrong. Asking for help and needing it in general.

He seems like a very sensory focused person, which is pretty cool.

Personality: Yat-sen is a soft-spoken introvert, who is violent minded. He hates conflict and strong emotions, so he avoids situations that could cause either of them. He tends to pent up his frustrations and when he needs to vent he goes for an extra long jog or He always has been someone who is heavily dependent on routine and planning, so he makes a to-do list every evening for the next day. He likes being knowledgeable about everything, so he leaves time open every day to do research about something he found interesting that day.

He struggles a lot with his weight, because he used to be pretty overweight when he was younger and that caused a lot of very unpleasant situations. He also struggles with depression since a couple of years, it was never a suicidal sort of depression though. He can’t find enjoyment in his hobbies and even when he tried switching up things a lot, nothing seemed to excite him. He gave up on trying to find a new hobby and he just fell back into his old rhythm, he does most things on auto-pilot now.

He works well under pressure, but after he is released from it, he feels very anxious and stressed, so he also tries to avoid pressure as much as possible. He has a fondness for small animals since they calm him down. He spaces out a lot when he is doing something that does not require his 100% attention, so he takes long to finish things, also because he’s a die-hard perfectionist. He is a coward that avoids everything he doesn’t like instead of overcoming it. He gives up on people and things quickly if things don’t work out perfectly off the bat.

A couple things that seem to conflict. Why would someone who works well under pressure and even becomes upset when not under pressure avoid pressure? Most perfectionists and workaholics I know actively seek out tasks and problems to keep their mind busy. Giving up easily also doesn’t seem to fit into the perfectionist mindset. If anything perfectionists tend to put too much effort into things.

He is very good at building and keeping habits, but they’re hard to get rid off. He easily gets addicted to things, they don’t always have to be bad things, but he knows he’s susceptible so he is cautious of trying new things he doesn’t understand completely.

If he’s good at building habits, which a perfectionist probably would be, why is he bad at putting effort into things that aren’t inherently perfect? It seems weird that he’s willing to put in so much effort into himself but not really anything else if he is labeled as a perfectionist. Maybe self conscious or hard on himself would be a better term for him.

History: He used to be a very fat kid, so he was shamed and shunned a lot by his family and classmates. He developed an inferiority complex and an eating disorder which never really went away. He grew up in Singapore for most of his life where he learned English and Mandarin. Mandarin was the main language used in his neighborhood, but since almost everything was taught in English at school in Singapore he grew up Bilingual. He was an overachiever at school and genuinely enjoyed studying, so he always got good grades. He was really interested in literature, however, so he told his mother he wasn’t planning on becoming any sort of doctor, lawyer or whatever she wanted him to be. He already had anxiety problems at a young age so he didn’t want to be involved in such high-pressure jobs either way. He said he wanted to be a literature collector and own a bookstore, so he was going to earn an English and business degree.

Specifically an English degree or a literature degree? Since this takes place in Singapore I’m not very sure.

This was one of the many disputes between him and his mother besides his weight. He also tended to have some interests that his mother saw as too feminine, so she accused him of being gay and tried to ‘fix’ him. They also fought a lot because he was brought up as Taoist, but he accused his mother of being a fake believer and such since she was always so hateful and judgmental according to him. His grandmother from his mother’s side lived very close so he used to go there all the time to relax and hear some of his grandmother’s stories. She also educated him about Taoism and helped him read the Tao Te Ching, so he was very fond of her and he loved her very much. She gave him all the love he was missing at home. He fought with his sister mostly about stupid things, like who ate the last cookie and such, but sometimes the remarks would be very nasty. On both sides.

Taoism is a very interesting religion and learning directly from his grandmother would help explain his vastly different opinion on things from his mother, who sounds like she might be more influenced by the general opinion in Singapore on things like Homosexuality and weight. The fact that you admit that Yat-Sen was not innocent in fighting with his sister is good, as sibling fights are rarely one sided.

When Yat-sen was sixteen he lied to his sister An about seeing her at the time boyfriend cheating on her to get back at her for something, but he didn’t know they were just about to get engaged (his sister was 21 at the time) and she got into a big fight with her boyfriend which resulted in a break-up. When Yat-sen finally came clean about it, she wouldn’t talk to him at all and did not keep contact with him after she moved out two years later. Only after three more years when Yat-sen sincerely apologized and they talked it out could she forgive him. Mostly because it turned out the ex-boyfriend was only after her because of their father’s money because he was deeply in debt from gambling. He got thrown in prison for stealing money from seniors by pretending to help them carry their groceries to their home and then taking their savings and running off.

You mentioned earlier that he and his sister get along very well now and that there seems to be no hard feelings between the siblings, which I find hard to believe. Even if Yat-Sen, with all his heart, felt remorse for his actions and even if the boyfriend turned out to be a bad person, I know that if I had been the sister, I would not have fully forgiven him. It’s a strong mark of character to potentially ruin two people’s lives as an act of revenge and the fact that all is forgiven because the boyfriend wasn’t very nice after all feels rather cheap, like there was no negative effect and Yat-Sen is almost rewarded for doing something that is honestly a horrible thing to do. Like, the sister can forgive him if she chooses, but to have absolutely no hard feeling about it at all is quite strange. 

“…forgiveness does not mean you become best friends with the person who wronged you. Forgiveness is not saying what happened was ok. Forgiveness is not saying you accept the person who wronged you. Instead, forgiveness is choosing to accept what happened as it happened rather than what could or should have happened. Forgiveness can mean that you let go. Forgiveness can mean you love from a distance. Forgiveness can mean you step into your present rather than anchoring in the past.” -Psychology Today, The Psychology of Forgiveness, Sept. 16, 2014

Yat-sen’s dad was almost never home because he usually worked overseas and traveled a lot as a representative in a big firm in Singapore. When he was home, however, the talk was mostly small talk and very basic questions, like “How is school?” and “So are there any girls you like?”. Yat-sen thought his father didn’t even try to make an effort to get to know him because he kept asking the same questions, even over the phone when he would call his mother.

The truth was that his father did try to get to know him, but he had nothing to start with since he had become so estranged from his family over time. He did not know what to ask and he did not want to make Yat-sen uncomfortable, so he quickly stopped after a few minutes of talking since it was very obvious Yat-sen did not like it. He also did not know of the tension at home, which escalated after grandmother died.

After the death of his grandmother, Yat-sen fell into a cycle of anxiety and self-harm by starvation and things at school become worse. By age sixteen he had lost so much weight he was clinically underweight, but his mother was happy to finally not have to be ashamed for her fat son. When he finally turned 18 he left for college and decided to live on campus to escape the toxic situation at home. He went to study Marketing and Business Development. Marketing took 4 years for a Bachelors degree and Business Development 3 years, so he was 25 years old when he finished.

During his studies he took on various part-time jobs to start to pay for his own apartment and bills, so he wasn’t so dependent on his parents. After his studies, he kept his job at one of the bigger libraries that are also a part of a bookstore a few blocks further, for experience and he got upgraded to a full-time employee. Now he shifts between the library and the store during the week, but he doesn’t mind that too much.

Overall a very well thought out backstory and personality. You clearly put a lot of thought into both his positive and negative traits, which is very good! I can see him being a solid character to build a story around. The mother seems a bit one dimensional, but if we are seeing this from the son’s perspective that’s not unusual.

Any Extras?(For example: A Harry Potter OC might talk about their wand or a Naruto OC might talk about their jutsu): Don’t think so, if you have any questions, you can ask away!

Most of any questions I might have I typed out while reading the character sheet.

Final Notes: I’m so sorry this is so long and that the way of describing is so all over the place. I didn’t know if I should stick to a telegram-style of writing, in the end, it got scrapped, haha.

It’s all good, as long as it is somewhat easy on the eyes for reading I can handle it.

I have a bit of an idea on what he probably looks like based off of the description you gave but just to be sure when you get some pictures of him feel free to send them in if you want the “First three OCs submitted get free art” offer. Sorry I didn’t have more to say, without the context of a fandom I have to just go off of what I can gather from the character sheet without knowing anything about the world or surrounding characters, so I hope you’re happy with the critique.

[5hfanfiction]

All strings attached - Chapter 3: The meeting.

I had spent the rest of the day with Lauren walking around New York and going unnoticed by everybody as ‘Camila Cabello the girl who left Fifth Harmony’ instead it was just us. Lauren and Camila from Miami. Or Jourdan and Penny, depending on how you want to look at it.

But good things are over fast and within the next couple of days we were being flown out to LA for a meeting with Epic, Maverick and SyCo. At trust me when I say that these meetings never ended well. We’d always try and voice our concerns or new ideas we had for our tour or albums we wanted to write, but they got inevitably shut down and ignored because we were “a product and products don’t have opinions” as would our entertainment manager Larry Rudolph always say to us.

Today was game time and we had one job, to find their narrative and poke holes into it. The label had to push an angle to sell to the media and I already had a feeling they would be making me their scape goat, like they hadn’t already.

We had all travelled separately and we told to come to the headquarters unnoticeably, so Lauren and I had to catch different flights. She had caught the one earlier, whilst I stayed and tied up a few lose ends with out 'team’ who were responsible for every leak and source of truth out there.  At the moment they were currently leaking all of the unreleased songs form our previous albums and I had to say I was pissing myself with laughter trying to watch our management take them down, but as fast as they were removing them the faster they were being leaked and downloaded by out real fans. Most of this was just to serve as a distraction to all of our real planning to take down Epic. That was the main objective. If we took down Epic, we took down Maverick and Syco would soon go tumbling after seeing as they were districted differently.

I made my way up the flight of stairs to the board rooms were they held meetings and was met with a bunch of  middle aged men in suits. ��Ahh, Camila finally.” He said placing his massive paw for a hand on my shoulder and steering me into the board room into the empty chair three spaces down from Lauren and directly across from Normani, whilst Ally and Dinah were also sprawled apart across the long table. I noticed they did this as a form of intimidation, we were harder to break down when we were untied, so they separated us across the table and dotted business men between us so when they turned their attention to us individually we felt singled out and to be honest it was a genius method of their part because it worked, they had away with words that made you feel so small and dumb.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road ladies.” Rudolph spoke from his position at the end of the table and gestured to L.A Reid.

“Before each of you, you will see a contract. Ladies,” he gestured to Dinah, Ally, Lauren and Normani, “Yours are the same as your previous ones with some additional documents that need looking over.” He said, but their was a subliminal message to his words, I could feel it and I didn’t like it very much.

The girls all picked at the small stack of papers, glancing over the long winded jargon, but not having a chance to read over them yet and trust me when I said it took a while. There was so much in our contracts that I still didn’t understand until they pulled moves, like kicking me out of Fifth Harmony, making it very obvious that their were sub-clauses.

“Camila you have a new contract to sign.” He spoke swiftly moving onto the next topic as I freaked out.

“But I don’t have my lawyer with me?!” I splurged out, whilst the girls shared fearful horrified looks with me. By this point we had all grown to hate contracts.

“That’s okay, we have supplied you with one.” He lifted a hand signalling for a guy - in yet another suit! Seriously Do these guys think they’re being original or what? - to come over. The poor guy looked really young and completely out of his depth and therefore I completely did not want him analysing my contract.

“No way!” I laughed bitterly. “I’ll be calling my lawyer, actually she should be here in a bit.” I sprung the news of our new lawyer on him.

“And who is you lawyer, miss Cabello?” He asked, sounding slightly irate.

“Dina Lapoult.” I announced sharing a brief smirk with Lauren who was looking over at me devilishly.

“You have the same Lawyer as Fifth Harmony.” He stated more than asked.

“Well last time I checked I was Fifth Harmony!” I couldn’t help myself and bite back. “Besides we share the same entertainment lawyer so why not share the same lawyer?” I asked calming down.

“Fine. Give her contract to read Miss Cabello and we will go over some other details now.” He spoke sifting through some new documents.

“Right well I guess we’ll start with you Miss Jauregui.” At soon as her name left his mouth I looked over to check on her, because no matter how many fronts she put up, she was the most vulnerable one out of all of us. I guess she was more “exploitable” than the rest of us. She had that look about her that you couldn’t help but become fascinated by the green eyed girl. And I hated it for one of two reasons; One: They were treating her inhumanly, like she wasn’t a person with feelings and life outside of Fifth Harmony and Two: She was MY fucking girl and I didn’t appreciate people ogling her and treating her like a piece of meat.

I could tell just from glancing at her that she felt panicked, because her breathing had hitched ever so subtly and eyes kept darting from looking at the table to looking at him as she tried to remain unbothered.

“As you’ll see in the documents presented before you we have full right to disclose any given information we see fit. You however Do not!” He practically growled at Lauren and from the moment we al knew what this was about, though I can’t say we were surprised, we knew the risk we were taking when we decided to leak that audio.

“Sir-” Lauren started, but was interrupted, but i appreciated her attempt at trying to remain civil, because I sure as hell couldn’t do that.

“No, Miss Jauregui. I think your vocalness has done enough damage, don’t you think?” He patronised and Lauren nodded her head quietly in shame, but I knew she wasn’t really and I tried to suppress my smile at the stellar performance Lauren was putting on and how wound up L.A was getting. “As I was saying, we have full right to disclose any information within you life in order to sell you.”

God that made me angry! “Sell” her?! Like she was some damn prized cattle! I seethed sitting further into my chair, trying to remain calm. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an overly aggressive angry person…at all, but when someone messes with Lauren things are different and I can’t seem to control my need to protect her fiercely.

“Which is where I come in.” Larry Rudolph chorused in from the other side of the large oval shaped table.

“Yes.” L.A nodded approvingly, sharing a genuinely happy smile with the other man. “Since you so desperately wanted to come out of that ridiculous 'closet’ of yours.” He mocked and I was two seconds away from blowing my lid, because we ALL knew how much Lauren had struggled with that and he was here mocking it. But before I could say anything Normani chimed in.

“Um- excuse you, but you don’t talk to my friend like that, not if you don’t want to be know as the biggest homophobe going.” Normani said politely, but there was a warning tone to her voice.

L.A didn’t offend mess with Normani (and if I’m being honest with you, I think he’s a bit scared of her. ) but that doesn’t mean Normani didn’t get her fair share of abuse thrown her way, because she did and I was partly to blame for it. During the on going feud between the 'Camilizers’ and 'OT4 shippers’ started by our management team as a way of generating speculation of tension within the group Normani had received a large amount of hate that changed the way she looked at herself a lot, and I would always be to blame for that no matter how much she told me I wasn’t because at the end of the day I was. They were my so-called fans who attacked her.

“I was not being homophobic I was just simply stating a fact.” L.A said in typical straight white male fashion and I had to resist the urge to scoff at the top of my lungs because we all knew that wasn’t true. L.A Reid was an extremely homophobic man, who did not respect the LGBT struggles and only saw it as a ploy to generate more money. In fact it was probably why him and Rudolph got along so well. Rudolph was know for exploiting his LGBT celebs, though I don’t think he meant any harm by it. In fact I think he believed he was helping by allowing them to at least be partly honest, which is why Lauren struck the deal with them.

It was why I struck the deal with them. But Lauren didn’t know…and we planned on keeping it that way.

I had sold my soul to the devil and there was no way of getting it back.

“Lauren,” Rudolph addressed her in a slightly nicer tone than L.A had. “What I need from you is more pictures of you and this-” he rummaged though his papers looking for a name - “Lucy vives. We are really going to want to push this angle if we want to make I believable-”

“It is believable. Lauren’s bisexual get over it.” I mumbled aggressively enough that everyone around the table heard me. Not that it was hard to hear because the room was so silent with the exception of whichever power hungry suit was talking.

“Calm down sweetie, he never said she wasn’t.” A lady sat between Ally and Normani spoke up and guess what? She was also wearing a goddamn suit!

“Thank you susie. I meant the relationship and well, yes partly her sexuality because people are trying to discredit it already.”

“But the hashtags?” Lauren questioned sounding upset and defeated and I wanted nothing more than to be able to hold her hand and tell her things were okay and that their opinions didn’t matter.

“Oh yes. They were very real. That wasn’t started on our part.” Another young looking man with silverish hair jumped in and Lauren nodded, but it was too late the doubt had been planted in her mind and it was going to take a lot on our part to shake it from her mind like the girls and I had done so many times as they made her release statement after statement denying her sexuality. Except this time I wouldn’t be around as much to tell her things we going to be okay.

“But those my dears are your fans. We’ve got them where we want them and they aren’t going anywhere. That much we know. It’s the general public we need to sell to now.” And I nodded because what he was saying did make sense, so I couldn’t object though I can’t see why anyone would object to someone else’s sexuality, but before I could voice my opinion Dinah did it for me.

“Why wouldn’t they believe it though?” She asked, disgust evident in her voice and there was a slight pause at the table before the same woman as earlier spoke up.

“Well, you know sweetie, I had a friend ask me the other day if bisexuality was a trend. So do you understand why we have to push this idea?”

Idea? What the fuck?! I honestly didn’t believe any of these people could distinguish fake from realty anymore. It was a wonder how they slept at night.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?!” I raged.

“I’m am advisor honey. My job is to stay clued in on what people are talking about, where they are putting their money and what they believe and…don’t believe.” She explained and I internally rolled my eyes at her sickly sweet tone.

“Miss Cabello. Could you please calm down? Or we’ll have to do this meeting without you.” L.A threatened and I decided to pipe down and let Lauren handle it, she was always better at controlling situations than me.

“So you just need pictures of me with Lucy?” Lauren asked.

“Yes, looking quite close though-”

“Not, like kissing or anything right? Because that was a one time deal and people still haven’t calmed down about it.” Lauren complained.

“We must strike while the iron’s hot.p, but no they don’t have to be anything intimate - just enough to keep people speculating.” Larry continued.

“But what if I don’t want people speculating? What if I want to be public about my actual relationship?” On that I quickly flicked my head to look at Lauren shocked. She had always wanted to keep us private for fear that the fans and media attention would destroy us.

“Hmm…well who is this person?” He asked flicking through the papers in front of him, looking for the answer that he wouldn’t find.

“A girl.” Lauren started but flicked her eyes to me, asking if it was okay to spill the tea and I wasn’t to sure but I nodded because I trusted Lauren and she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Right, well that helps us to push the point a bit more,” Lauren rolled her eyes, “But I am going to need a lot more information about this person before I can even consider it. Like are they in the industry? Do they have a good rep? Age?…and preferably a name?” Rudolph went on, not even looking up front he stack of paper in front of him.

“Oh no.” L.A cut in, shooting that horse in the face. “I know exactly where this is going Miss Jauregui and I’ve said no. I’ve been saying no for almost five years.”

“Yes well! The first time you said no because you thought it wouldn’t last, then we couldn’t because of dumb PR relationships that didn’t even work!” Lauren said, but her voice was getting angrier as she spoke,  “And then you said know because you thought it was unprofessional of me to date someone in our group!” There was a collective gasp around the room, but Lauren had lost it now and there was no going  back, so I let her rip lose as she stood up from her chair, making herself seen as well as heard. “Well you know what LA,?! I don’t care anymore! I’ve given away the best few years of my life to you, hiding and being ashamed and it nearly destroyed me. So I am begging you. Please, just let me have this one thing?” Lauren asked softening her tone exasperatedly, because I knew she was sick of fighting all the time.

“Lauren, it’s just too risky. I’m sorry.” L.A said, but this time I didn’t feel mad, because he genuinely sounded sorry for denying us…again.

“Fine.” Lauren whispered defeatedly, sitting back down in her chair with her head low.

“Why don’t we all take a break for five?” L.A offered, “And then we can regroup and discuss further plans.” He said stepping back into his business man shoes and I felt everyone stand up and shuffle out, whilst sending mysterious looks over to us, trying to figure out who Lauren was dating, but I’m sure most of them knew. All you had to do was time our name in any search engine and the proof would come.

We even tried leaking proof of it a few years ago with what we thought were very obvious pictures, but people ignored it or speculated but didn’t want to be the first to say for fear of backlash, because our Harmonizer, as lovely as they are, could be harsh to people they thought had wronged us.

“Lauren?” I called standing up and making my way over to her chair and standing behind it wrapping my arms around her neck from base she sat.

“I’m sorry, Camz. I tried."  Lauren said dejectedly.

"Don’t let it get to you Laur, I’m still here and we don’t need their approval to be in a relationship.” I told her, rubbing her shoulders trying to alleviate her stress.

“Camila’s right Lauren.  You don’t need other people’s knowledge of your relationship to make it any more real.” Ally tried.

“I know, but I’m sick of hiding. I feel like I’ve always been hiding a part of myself.” Lauren confessed into her hands and not looking at us.

“Trust me, I know how you feel. But you don’t have to hide anymore Lolo.” I told her softly. I had hoped making the deal would have made things easier on Lauren, but apparently not or maybe she just needed more time for things to settle down.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Lauren said and sat up like the truth of the situation had just hit her. “I have no right to be complaining when your still-”

“Ssh.” I hushed gently stroking her hair. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not ashamed of myself and I’ll do it when the times right.” I soothed her worries, even though I knew that it was a lie, because I wasn’t ever coming out, at least not under our current management, which was all the more reason we need to get out from underneath them.

“Dina’s here.” Dinah announced looking up from here phone, where had obviously just gotten the notification.

“Great.” I clapped my hands. “Let’s get this show on the road, ladies. And might I say Miss Jauregui that was a stellar performance earlier.” I put on a fake fancy voice, which made Lauren burst out in laughter. I felt better now that I had made her smile, that was the only thing I wanted in life- to stand by Lauren’s side and make sure that beautiful smile never left that beautiful face.

I made a move to walk back to my seat when Lauren grabbed my wrist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was short but sweet (just like Ally), but sometimes those were the best kinds. “Don’t let 'em break you.” Lauren said staring intensely into my eyes, before letting me go to sit back down in my seat as everyone piled back into the boardroom, but this time with Dina Lapoult hot on their heels.

“Okay,” L.A started clapping his hands together sitting down in his massive chair. “Seeing as we now have your lawyer present let’s get these contracts signed.” He said but the annoyance was clear in his voice.

“Actually Mr Reid.” Dina spoke up and I knew it was starting, “before we do anything I have a few documents for you to look over.” She said placing several forms in front of him. “They are all on the behalf of Fifth Harmony so don’t worry.” She said with underlying sarcasm.

“What is this? You’re claiming rights to Fifth Harmony’s name?” He asked baffled and I couldn’t help but smile as we had him shook. “Trevor get over here and read this.” L.A beckoned a middle aged man, who looked to be in his fifties, over to read the paper.

“It basically states here that Lauren Jauregui was sold the trademark of Fifth Harmony’s brand name along with several others such as; H4rmony and fourth Harmony.” I didn’t like that one much. “However the trademark is owned by Dinah Jane, Normani Kordei, Ally Brooke and Lauren Jauregui.” The man explained, his voice growing smaller and smaller as he continued on despite L.A’s pissed face.

“You mean to say you went behind my back and brought Fifth Harmony.”

“In all due respect L.A, we are Fifth Harmony.” Ally said calmly.

“And Simon sold it to us, so we didn’t go behind anyone’s back.” Normani joined in, countering L.A’s argument.

“Fine.” L.A said seething.

“Great,” Dinah clapped her hands, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, Camila, let me see this contract.” Dina spoke, holding her hand out for my documents and began reading through them in a chair in the corner of the room and I watched her face for any bad signs. “No!” She stood up abruptly, shaking her head. “This won’t do. You’re claiming rights to all information regarding Miss Cabello’s private. Little did she know that was part of the deal I had struck to free Lauren so there was no getting out of that without making Lauren’s life a hell of a lot worse.

"For PR purposes.” Larry Rudolph defended.

“No. I will not let my client sign her life away.” Dina said sternly, smacking the files down.

“Look, if there’s no contract, there’s no album and we will drop Miss Cabello altogether.” L.A shrugged indifferently,

“Your bluffing.” Lauren shot up, fearful.

“Hardly, Miss Jauregui. Do you know how many other brown eyed brunettes there are just waiting for a record deal, like this?” He patronised and I could see Lauren’s body tense up as she was about to rip into him, so I quickly intervened.

“I’ll sign the contract. Just tell me the details and I’ll do it.” Lauren flicked her head to me sending me a warning glare as if to say 'Don’t do this’. “Pass me a pen.” I said, looking away from those familiar green eyes and down to the contract in front of me as several pens were thrown across the table in my direction. I took Dina’s gently from her had and gave her a small smile as if to say it was okay, which we all knew it wasn’t.

“You are basically signing to allow both the record company, management and anyone affiliated with those teams are allowed to use parts of your private life for publicity stunts, whether or not the truth is distorted-”

“So you’re basically going to make shit up!” Lauren fumed.

“Lo.” I warned, sharing a look with her to get her to sit down. Right now she looked like she wanted to kill everyone in this room, including me.

“You will also be agreeing to have statements and stories put out on your behalf; in magazines and tabloids for example.” Dinah continued on. “They will also have the right to obtained and withdraw any information regarding your private life and have complete control over your image creatively.”

Whoa…

My head was already spinning from that information and the prospect of losing full control of my life and everything- everyone in it.

But, I picked up the pen and signed. For Lauren.

A/N: I’m an awful proof reader, so sorry for any grammatical errors or incorrect spellings. I could read this shit a thousand times over and still not see it. 😁 ,

Feel free to suggest any future storylines you would like to see. I have a rough idea of where I’m going but the other input is always welcome. Enjoy. Comment, vote and all that malarkey!

Wattpad: Midnightcrossings

[becca-sullivan]

“Hey Becca!”, Francesca and Lizzy looked like they shared a secret and I made a mental note to ask my sister later on what they had been up to. “How did it go?”

“Wonderfully. Mrs D is really nice. And she paid way more than what she was supposed to”, I showed Francesca the money. “She said fifty for the shop and twenty for Paula and five for me. And I did not even do anything!”

Francesca chuckled.

“Like I said, people are way better customers when they like you. We all have tip jars in the shop, this will be the start of yours.”

By now I was already used to Francesca's driving and and managed not to be thrown forward when we stopped in front of the shop.

We walked through the shop a bit slower this time and I managed to read a few of the labels.

Bazaar and Ride on an elephant through the jungle were two of many jars on a shelf that looked like it came straight out of 1001 nights. There were jars labelled Dancing with the Masaii and Surfing at Kap Horn, Exploring the pyramids, Diving at the Grand Barrier Reef, North Pole, Exploding volcano, Aurea borealis in Iceland, Sunset at the edge of the world. And that were just the few I read whilst walking past them.

Then we were back in the kitchen and Francesca served lemonade to everyone. Paula looked up from her book, by now covered in post-its, a map lying right next to her. There was a traveling route marked in blue marker.

“Your next journey?”, I asked whilst looking through my bag for one of the emergency straws I am always carrying around to prevent Lizzy from becoming partly squid.

“Sí. This time, I will travel a circle around Americá, going through every single state.”

“Sounds like an interesting trip. I envy you!”

“You don't. Being on the road is lonely.”

Not long and we all were sitting around the big table again, drinking lemonade and chatting. Most of the talking was done by Lizzy; asking all kinds of interesting and inappropriate questions.

“Lizzy!”, I hissed scandalized after she asked whether Gilbert was Francesca's father or husband.

But Gilbert and Francesca just looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“We grew up together. Gilbert is asexual and I have a soul mate somewhere out there, so that is a big no to your question.”

When I looked at the clock over the kitchen door it was already half past two. Except the two deliveries and the jars we sold to Miss Brown nothing had happened. Why did they even need me?  Did they even make enough money to pay me? Surely it had just been a slow day, there was no way they only hired me just because Indira Akhtar had told them I was looking for a job.

“Hey Becca, do you want the last cookie?”

Lizzy was holding the pastry in front of my nose and I noticed how lucky I was. I have a job, my boss and coworkers are nice and they are okay with my baby sister sitting in their kitchen, eating all the cookies.

“Hey palomita, how about we split it?”, suggested Francesca. “A fifth for each of us.”

Lizzy gave her best splitting the cookie and everybody ended up with a handful of crumbs and chocolate chips. Gilbert was chatting with Francesca whilst drawing little circles on Lizzy's hand, whose eyes were close to falling shut, and I just sat there, happiness pooling in a pit of my stomach.

Paula closed her book and unscrew a small glass with a red dot on it's lid. She took a deep breath and then gently started blowing into the jar, closing the lid just as she stopped. With the marker she had used to draw the traveling route for her next trip, she scribbled something on the lid.

With a wink she slid the jar over to me.

The slightly crooked letters on the lid spelled out the words Becca's first day at Feel Good.

[syntymatitahna]

Featuring human!OC Gridlock (Grace) and mer!OC Calamity (Beda/Calamity).

#making out #unrealistic english-as-second-language speaker accent

The sun beat Grace’s back, gluing dark strands escaped from her bun onto her nape. The coarse brush and soap left lighter swathes on the rug as she brushed it rigorously to get out a year’s dust and grime, whatever remained after a thorough vacuum. Washing her rugs on a pier was her yearly routine, a habit picked up from her childhood home and something she’d stuck to. She missed the scent of the soap she’d used in her childhood.

Using a bucket, she rinsed off the rug until it was sopping wet again, then rolled it up to walk on the roll and squeeze out as much of the water as possible before repeating the process.

She heard a cough and turned to look. In the water next to the pier was a girl, using her hands to wipe soap off her tongue and eyes. Teal, webbed hands. Grace lowered her bucket.

“Sorry ‘bout the soap.”

The mer waved her hand dismissively. “I was swimming into it.”

“… It’s biodegradable, if that helps any.”

The mer looked up, muscular shoulders encircled by a string of foam. A bright, toothy grin swallowed the lower half of her face.

“I might be forgiving you for hamburger and fries.”

Grace frowned, straight brows knotting together.

“I’m not sure you should be here. All contact between townsfolk and mer should go through your Speaker.”

“My-what-now?”

“You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Nope!” The mer chirped, still grinning brightly.

Grace pointed down the river. “There’s a pod, living here. We don’t really come into contact with them much, they keep to their, reef or whatever they live in, and we keep out from there. You think they know about your pod?” Grace asked, looking down the the mer.

The mer shook her head so her fins swayed. “No pod. It’s just me, and I’m staying near shore… Didn’t want to be going on others’ territory.”

Grace nodded, picking up the bucket and continuing to rinse the rug. The mer pulled herself up on the pier, leaving her tail hanging in the soapy water. Grace glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

“Still don’t know if you should be here.”

“Aw, why not?”

“We leave the mers be for a reason. It’s safer for all of us”, Grace murmured. “And the soap can’t be good for you.”

The mer seemed unbothered. “So I got out of it.”

Grace walked over the rug roll again, lifting and spreading it out on a railing to dry, her t-shirt going a bit taut around her biceps. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the mer watching her with dark eyes. She didn’t look away when caught. Grace turned to the mer, leaning on the railing despite the rug soaking her clothes, and frowned.

“So is it your doing that people’s fish traps have been empty?”

The mer’s fins flared. “I haven’t emptied them!”

Grace didn’t look impressed. “And then you have the gall to beg me for food.”

“Hey! I’m not begging!”

Grace scoffed at that.

“It’s way less trouble getting a few fish from humans than hunting”, the mer said, jabbing the air with her chin. “I guess I could stop doing it for a hamburger and fries…”, she continued, coiling her pretty tail on the pier with a flick.

Grace all but growled, pushing the mer down on the pier by the shoulders and grabbing her hands before she had a chance to lash back. Grace held the mer’s hands in one hand, grabbing onto an ear fin and twisting when the mer tried to surge up and bite. The mer stilled with a gasp, eyes wide and dark, the muscles of her tail twitching under Grace.

“You’re not exactly in a place to make demands”, Grace growled in the mer’s face. The mer shivered, then squirmed slightly before stilling again.

Then Grace had a tail draped over her, surprisingly enough that Grace’s arms gave out and she ended up flattened against the mer.

“I changed my mind”, the mer said, way too confident to have ever truly been out of control. “I’ll stop… if you kiss me.” She grinned, tail a deliberate weight holding the human down.

Grace frowned. “What?!”

“You heard me”, the mer sing-songed, waving her claw-tipped fingers with an infuriating grin.

Grace glared.

She pulled the mer into a bruising kiss, and when the mer’s tongue poked out between her lips, Grace slid her tongue into the mer’s mouth alongside it, only to pull back entirely when she brushed the mer’s sharp teeth.

The mer under her blinked her eyes, and Grace noticed they were purple, not black as she’d thought, only the mer’s pupils were blown so wide that no more than a thin sliver of iris was visible.

“'Kay…”, the mer whispered, eyes focusing back on Grace. “For another I’ll be bringing more fish to make up for ones I took”, she continued, still in a whisper.

Grace shook her head and pushed herself off the mer, the mer’s tail sliding off her easily enough despite the couple twitches like the mer wasn’t sure if she should let Grace go. Grace sat up, swiping back hair sticking to her face.

The mer also sat up, scooping some water from the river to moisten her arms and tail before looking over to Grace. She twisted, flopping her tail next to Grace.

“Or I could be letting you touch my tail”, she said. Grace glanced at the mer, closing in on a glower.

The mer lifted her hands, pulling her tail back. “Sometimes humans want to!”

Grace shook her head again and stood up. She was almost off the pier when she turned to jab a finger at the mer.

“If my rugs aren’t exactly where I left them when I come back, I’ll skewer and grill you over a slow fire.” She continued walking. “I hear mer flesh is healthy.”

The mer glanced at the rugs, shrugged, and rolled herself into the river with a splash, glad that the current had carried the soap away.

When Grace came back, the pier was empty. She grabbed her backpack from the shore and carried it onto the pier, dropping the paper bag in her hand aside while she pulled a quilt from the backpack. A rustle of the paperbag had her turning her head fast enough to give her a crick.

“Either you’re eating lots or the other meal is for me?” the mer asked, hugging a paper-wrapped hamburger to her cheek. Grace rolled her eyes, pulling the paper bag over to the quilt. She didn’t make a move to take the hamburger back from the mer.

“Vaah… soy?” the mer read the red stick letters on the paper wrapping.

“Bacon”, Grace corrected. “It’s got bacon and chicken, this one’s beef”, she said, waving the other hamburger.

The mer traded the labelled burger for the beef one and lifted herself onto the pier. She grabbed the paper bag, and after digging out the bags of ketchup and mustard, upended both of the fry cartons into the bag.

“Hey!” Grace protested, pulling the bag over to herself, frowning at the mer. The mer leaned over on her belly and tore off the top of the bag, then picked a fry to eat, looking up to Grace with a self-satisfied smile.

“How come you even eat hamburgers and fries?” Grace blurted.

The mer shrugged. “Easy food. Humans are falling over themselves to feed me for a bit of tricks or getting to touch my tail”, she explained, patting her iridescent flank, almost smug.

“Most mers avoid humans that I know of.”

“Just avoid boats”, the mer said, demonstrating with her hands. “Tourist beaches feed best.”

Grace gestured around. “This isn’t a tourist beach, though. And there are boats here.”

The mer’s eyes grew dewy, her bottom lip wibbling. “Are you wanting rid of me?”

Grace snorted. “Been trying since I saw you.”

“Why’d you get me food, then?” the mer asked, flashing a smirk like mercury.

Grace shrugged, picking a fry from the bag and gesturing at the mer with it. “Figured you’d be less likely to raid fish traps if you weren’t hungry.”

The mer snorted. “Wasn’t going to, anyway.”

Grace studied her. “You’re too comfortable around humans to be wild-born.”

The mer hummed noncommittally, munching on fries. Grace realised that at this rate the mer would eat them all, so she followed suit, ripping open a ketchup bag with her teeth to dip fries in.

“What are you called?” the mer asked after a moment of silence.

“Grace Ayukaeff.”

“My name is Beda”, the mer said, peeling open her hamburger and digging in.

Grace snickered, shoving a clump of fries in her mouth. “Fisshing”, she slurred through the food.

“But I guess you can be calling me Calamity.”

“Bedushka.”

The mer’s fins flared, and she ducked her face down, suddenly finding the hamburger immensely interesting. Grace poked her tail with a bare foot.

“You’ve been flirting at me this whole time, don’t tell me that’s too much for you”, she said, now her turn to grin.

“It’s just being very familiar!” the mer squeaked, and Grace flat-out laughed, a proper belly laugh.

“I had my tongue in your mouth, and that’s familiar?” “Well, I guess…” the mer murmured, smiling a little.

Grace pressed the sole of her foot against Calamity’s tail and rocked the mer lightly. “You can’t speak Mer languages at all, can you?”

Calamity shook her head, picking at the hamburger and watching Grace, the heavy lids protecting her eyes from the sun, the prominent curves of her cheekbones.

“Mama taught me not much, and then we were being kept in fry pods and we all knew as little.” She pinched Grace’s toes, getting a twitch from the human.

“How’d you end up here?” Grace asked, pulling back her foot.

“I wasn’t growing enough, so they sold me as a pet. Over the ocean”, she explained, telegraphing with her free hand, “but I got away here.”

Grace looped her arm over her knee, starting on her hamburger.

“Ever thought of joining a pod? The pod here’s been pretty good about captive-borns if what I’ve heard is right.”

Calamity shrugged, leaning over to Grace with a grin. “You wanting me to stay, yes?”

Grace flashed Calamity half a smile. “Maybe, yeah.”