#please act with decorum occasionally

[beardedmrbean]

So she went and did it

Submitted anonymously

I could do without either one of those two, but if I had to pick one to get rid of it would the one who alluded to the concept of nuking US citizens and was banging a alleged spy from China.

[metalomagnetic]

Voldemort meets Sirius.

He knows this one will be different as soon as he steps foot in the messy house.

The wards that guard it are borderline dark magic, barely legal. They are well executed, as well. An auspicious beginning, Voldemort thinks, as he patiently dismantles them.

The Black scion isn’t home; Evan dutifully let Voldemort know he’s drunk in some Knockturn pub.

“He often comes to drink in Knockturn, but always alone. Never with his Gryffindor friends. He’s a mean drunk, too, my lord. Perhaps if you wish to have a semblance of a rational conversation- as much as it is possible with any Black- you shouldn’t approach him when he’s wasted.”

The walls are …colourful. The paint was once white, but the young Black heir hung posters of muggle singers everywhere. Perhaps actors, too, Voldemort isn’t familiar with what passes for famous these days in the muggle world.

He only recognises Elvis, mounted over the fireplace.

They all look the same- tall, dark haired, dressed in leather.

Pictures of his friends are up there as well. He recognises Potter in many of them- hard not to, with that trademark Potter hair. The girl draped on his arm, red head, must be his mudblood. Voldemort forgot her name. Something flowery, but it escapes him.

Bella and Evan, occasionally Rabastan often complain about Black’s entourage, but they only name Potter.

“Stupid Potter, his mudblood and the werewolf! He left us for those little worms!”

He thinks the werewolf must be the thin one, an air of misery draped over him in every picture. Greyback complained about him, too. Remus, that’s the one, it comes to Voldemort. Remus Lupin, werewolf.

“With a name like that, I had to bite him,” Greyback smirked, in one of his rare funny moods. “He was destined to be mine, but Black stole him.”

The other boy that appears in almost all the pictures, Voldemort doesn’t even try to place.

He got a report on all of them, marked as Dumbledore’s puppets, but he only remembered the important names on that list.

The girl, he knows. Only one picture with her. Marlene McKinnon. A fighter- a good fighter. She killed three Death Eaters. A Healer, too. Voldemort always looks after powerful witches. They are sorely misrepresented in this war. It upsets Bella, who is trying to recruit more girls, with little success.

She’s in Black’s lap, head thrown back, while Black sucks a bruise on her throat. Voldemort tilts his head, wastes a second more than it is needed on the picture. He’d never seen a picture this vulgar, especially put on display on a wall. The girl is engaged, isn’t she? With one of the Prewett brothers.

He scans the walls for them, but he can’t find them anywhere.

He finds muggle telephone numbers scribbled in lipstick on the walls, instead.

The most amusing- a picture ripped from a newspaper, showing the Dark Mark floating over a house. It has many sharp objects stuck in it-

Darts. Yes, that’s the name of the game.

He smiles. Black has good aim- one of the darts is stuck in the eye of the snake.

Under the bed, beneath a loose floorboard, he finds a box kept safe by no less than five curses. He opens it to find a picture of Orion Black. It is clipped from a newspaper article, cut carefully and precisely around the edges. And a letter. It’s clearly the second page of one- the first is missing.

‘-no need to play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You know fully well it is not cursing the half-blood that bothers me, but your lack of decorum. You are a civilised young man, you represent our family, and you should act accordingly. I warned you I do not enjoy having to correspond with either McGonagall or Dumbledore, yet you’re forcing me to do so when you blatantly misbehave. Am I to presume you do not care about my displeasure, and this is why you disobey me? Or should I conclude you would like to please your father, yet you lack the self-control to do it? I struggle to pick which option is worse. This is the seventh time in a month I receive letters about your detentions. Do stop assaulting your schoolmates, or if you must, show some cunning and do not get caught. Or else we will have to have a serious conversation when you come home for Yule. I assure you, it is not a conversation you will enjoy.

Furthermore, I hear you intend to take a mudblood to one of those holiday celebrations Slughorn likes to host. Surely, I heard wrong. You would be wise to invite Helena Edgecombe to this function. Her father mentioned just the other day that she finds your company delightful.

Flitwick was accommodating enough to send me your Charms paper, along with your grade. He mentioned it was the best paper he graded in all his years of teaching, and, after reading it, I must agree it was quite extraordinary. I am half tempted to send it to my old mentor back at the Institute. Very well done, Sirius. You certainly can make me proud when it doesn’t inconvenience you.

If only you would show proof of your upbringing in your social life, as well, I would be most content.

With love,

Your father.’

The letter has blotch marks on it, as if someone cried over it. The word ‘father’, especially, is almost erased, and Voldemort imagines Black often moved his finger over it.

Bella mentioned Sirius Black was ‘unnaturally close’ to Orion, and that his father’s death broke him. She credits this event with the boy running away from Grimmauld.

Voldemort carefully arranges these apparently precious possessions back into the box, seals it under the floorboard with the same curses he found on it.

The house is messy, unorganised, clothes thrown around, bottles of alcohol everywhere, full to the brim ashtrays lying around in odd places, and burn marks on the rug.

Yet his collection of muggle records is organised in alphabetical order, neatly. And there, hidden behind the impressive collection, Voldemort finds eight tomes filled with dark magic. All illegal.

His bathroom cabinets are just as messy, and clearly his female guests left behind bottles of lipstick, or similar products. They also left behind some lingerie. A pair of pink knickers is half hidden into a tiny gap underneath the bathtub. He wonders if they belong to the same women who left her bra between the couch cushions in the living room.

Voldemort finds a secret compartment, coming out from the side of the bathroom cabinet. Hang-over potions, peppers up. Polyjuice.

Veritaserum.

Hidden further still, he finds three lethal poisons.

If he didn’t know better, Voldemort might think two different men share the house; a careless, Bohemian womaniser, a blood traitor surrounded by mudbloods and half-bloods and other blood traitors, with muggle musicians on the wall.

And the Black heir, interested in dark magic, poisons, sleeping with his father’s picture under his bed.

This will be easy, he thinks, as he sits in an appalling armchair that doesn’t fit with the rest of the furniture.

Charmed into the armrest, there’s a letter, covered in plastic for preservation. “You fucking dog, how dare you steal my armchair! Give it back, or I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life writing horrible articles about you!”

It amuses Voldemort, as it probably amuses Black, hence why he decided to place it on the armrest, permanently.

When the young man stumbles his way into the house, he contains his surprise to find Voldemort there remarkably fast.

People have been telling Voldemort Black takes after Walburga; he might, it’s too soon to tell, but his first impression is that Sirius favours his father.

Voldemort is yet to meet an unattractive Black- and he’s met them all- but the boy is something else, even for the Blacks.

His tall, broad body is on display in the muggle attire he wears, hair falling around his shoulders with a casual elegance; he is both handsome, with strong, sharp bones and beautiful, with soft lips and long, thick eyelashes, made even darker by the paleness of his eyes.

It has been so long since he felt attraction; it travels up his spine as he takes in the boy.

Who very quickly decides he will die a hero; Voldemort can see that decision forming in his eyes. Not with Legilimency. It’s just made obvious by the way his impressive shoulders straighten with pride, his jaw sets in determination, anger replacing the fear in his eyes.

And there was fear- Voldemort is intimately familiar with fear of death, can easily recognise it when it shines in front of him.

Yet he spent his life fleeing from it.

Sirius Black walks towards it, bold.

It takes only a minute of conversation to charm him; easy, indeed. Sirius’ interest is picked instantly; pride flickers in his eyes that someone like Voldemort would bother coming to kill him; even more pride when Voldemort explains he’s there to recruit him.

He is a Black, down to his last bone. He calls Voldemort a mudblood; he declares himself the purest being in existence. He speaks of his mother; the boy in the pictures is not there, the owner of muggle records, the blood traitor- no; only the Black heir speaks to Voldemort that night.

Powerful, too, like any Black. A diamond in the rough, his magic true and strong and raw as he unleashes it. Dark curses fall with a practiced ease from his wand. Fiendfyre engulfs the room in seconds.

What a treasure. As unhinged and powerful as Bella, this one.

And there it is, his pure blood spilling over the floor, staining the carpet. Voldemort has the impulse to taste it; a momentary madness, but the boy enchants him so.

His clothes are ripped and burned in places, and Voldemort can glimpse tattoos on pale skin. Voldemort wants his mark on that skin; he wants to hold the boy’s strong forearm and brand him as his own. Claim him for himself.

Sirius Black fights readily, bravely. With his wand and with his words.

But Voldemort can smell the mountain of insecurity hidden under the fury, like the boy hides his poisons under harmless perfumes.

Some men- most men- cower when confronted with violence, bend and break under pain, especially pain caused by Voldemort’s wand.

Not this one, Voldemort understands. No, violence will only be met with violence, here.

Voldemort will need a different approach.

[polyamarhousgarden]

Mon petite Donia,

It is my sincerest hope that this letter finds you not only in good health and good cheer but indeed, that it finds you with a changed heart regarding staying in Paris instead of leaving with your mother for I swear to you, with every fibre of my being and upon every star above, that my own heart has changed irrevocably since you justly reprimanded me for my previous insensitive behaviour toward you. I can only hope that these past few days together have proven this, but if you wish for further evidence of this change within me, all I ask is that you keep reading and allow yourself, please, to set aside your warranted hurt feelings to see that all I speak is entirely from my heart.

Because I am speaking from the heart, I shall speak candidly. Indeed, I admit, in the very beginning, my heart was not entirely where it should have been. I have not had the pleasure of meeting and taking people as sincere and stalwart as yourself out and about. I am used to a more laissez-faire approach to courtship, abstaining from proper courtship and although you may be swayed to believe otherwise, I mean it when I tell you I only ever go as far as exchanging an occasional kiss when I greatly fancy a person, never anything more. That is why I was shocked when you expressed distaste in my natural sway of easy, carefree courting as you no doubt saw in my countenance when you rejected my request for a kiss but I assure you it is only because of how novel the situation was for me. Please understand that, and please forgive me for the unintentional and unfortunate implications my shock must have inherently had regarding your good character- indeed, yours is much greater than my own and I feel I have so much yet to learn from you.

After much reflection, I understand now the egregious error I had made by requesting a kiss from you when I did. I had acted as an ass. While I sorely regret that I had upset and made you uncomfortable, I must confess I am grateful that by doing so it revealed to me just how deeply true and sincere you are as an individual and the standard you demand and deserve from a partner worthy of you. I beseech you to please consider staying, to please consider me, despite my recent blunder, as someone who could possibly earn such a coveted and honourary title such as ‘Yours’.

Lastly, I want to thank you. Thank you, mon petite Donia for this rare opportunity for me to seriously reflect upon my own feelings. Regardless of what you decide to do with this letter and what you have read within, I am forever touched by you. Your smile, your laugh, your views on freedom, your decorum and grace, you have changed me for the better. While I grieve at the thought of you sailing away forever, I understand it is your choice to make and indeed, I only hope you will write to me, think of me, and know my memories of you, of our time together, will never leave me. Part of you will always be right here with me walking these streets of Paris alongside me, dining with me, accompanying me to the opera house. I love you; soul and all. Please, allow me to prove it. Please, stay awhile. If you find you still cannot bear to stay, all I ask is that you give me time to come to you once the Revolution is won so that I may see you and have one more chance, please. I'll be waiting anxiously for your reply.

Sincerely,

Courfeyrac

@sincerely-your-fo

M. Courfeyrac,

This one does not know how best to respond to this letter.

It had only been moments ago that Gavroche had come to me with this letter, urging me to read it before he ran off to God only knew where.

Your ward is a quick and shrewd one.

I had my reservations about doing as he said, I must admit. After the way things ended during our last excursion together, I did not think it wise to correspond with you.

Still, I found it difficult to deny Gavroche anything.

Though my upset has not yet faded from your request of a kiss, I find myself... In conflict.

It is as if my soul is in conflict with my mind. I know I must leave, yet I find my own feet faltering.

Though my heart sings for my homeland, my immortal soul cries for your presence by my side.

Though I cannot make promises to stay, I can at least promise to delay my leave. Another ship is set to leave for my homeland in the next five months, I shall delay my departure until then.

Until I discern what we feel for each other.

I hope you know the depth of my regard for you.

Yours,

Chelidonia

[ladywantstobeafarmer]

Chapter 5 - The Bullying Part 2

“Oh, this necklace is beautiful!”

“You have a good eye, Lady! It is one of our most popular items in the shop! Many distinguished ladies have eyed this necklace, and I’m sure you’re one of them, Lady! ” The store clerk smiles widely as he shows a necklace to Madelief, whose eyes are very clearly sparkling with desire for that item.

Madelief, a bit ashamed from being tickled at hearing this very obvious flattery, pretends to deeply weigh the pros and cons of buying the necklace. While putting on her serious act, the front door of the shop can be heard opening and closing, indicating the arrival of a new customer. Hearing that, Madelief stops her act and decides to quickly finish her shopping before the store clerk has to divide his attention between her and the new arrival.

“I’ve decided to buy th-”

“I would like to buy this necklace.”

Madelief freezes as she hears an unpleasantly familiar voice from right next to her. She takes a deep breath before she takes her gaze from the necklace to the person on her right.

“Oh, I did not see you here, Lady Gerber. I did not think someone like you would visit this kind of establishment.” A cold pair of violet eyes meet her pink eyes, to Madelief’s disappointment.

‘Of course it’s her…’ Madelief held back a groan and tried her best to keep meeting Janthe’s eyes, despite still being quite afraid of her.

“T-there’s nothing odd about me visiting places like thi-this! I’m a lady too! An-and I had my eyes on that necklace f-first!”

‘Ugh! I barely stutter these days any more, but why do I have to stutter right in front of her!? Right now!?’

“You had your eyes on it first, huh?” Janthe starts to smirk, “But do you have enough money to buy it?”

“Huh?” Madelief looks at Janthe with a blank look.

“Clerk, I would like to buy this necklace - for double the original price.”

“Of course! Right away!” The store clerk, who had been staring at the ladies with a bewildered look, gained his footing and customer service smile the instant he heard the word “double”. Perhaps his smile was even wider than before.

“B-but you can’t do that!” Madelief instantly protested upon realising what Janthe was up to.

Janthe let out a pleased chuckle, “But I can. Very much so… or are you implying that you, a mere Baron’s daughter, could stop me?”

“That…” Madelief’s eyes are starting to tear up from frustration.

“Madelief can’t, but I can, Lady Fiala.”

The ladies jump at the sudden voice, as they hadn’t noticed the entrance of someone new during their spat. Both initially look at the new arrival with wide eyes, but Madelief’s face soon turns into a bright smile.

“Basil! You’re here earlier than I expected!”

“Luckily, the meeting ended earlier than I expected,” The Crown Prince smiles sweetly at Madelief, ”and I feel like I arrived at the perfect time. Lady Fiala, about the necklace-”

“I do not want it anymore - Lady Gerber can have it.”

Janthe, very displeased at seeing the pair be so cosy with each other, uncharacteristically ignores decorum and interrupts the Prince before he manages to finish his sentence. The Prince and Madelief are quite taken aback at that, but they aren’t given enough time to react as Janthe curtly says her goodbye to the both of them and hurries out of the shop.

Janthe keeps walking down the street at a quick pace while pressing her hand to her forehead and occasionally muttering under her breath, “Why? Why do I keep doing things like this…?” She only comes to a stop once she hears Lata’s voice calling her.

“Janthe, sorry for the wait!  I didn’t expect my business to go on for so long! But I hope you had… fun… looking at the jewellery in this shop?” Lata’s initial smile and happy tone falter as she sees Janthe’s disgruntled face, “Did something happen?”

Janthe’s look softens as she sees Lata’s worried face, “No, nothing much. My headache from this morning seems to simply have returned.”

“Oh no, we should quickly get back then!”  Lata grabs Janthe hand and hurries to the carriage.

Janthe feels a slight smile tug at her lips at this.

***

"How dare you!"

A few birds that were resting in the royal garden fly away as they hear a sudden angry shout near them.

"How dare I what?" Janthe smirks as she hides her face behind her fan.

"Oh, don't play coy with me! You know very well what I'm talking about - my necklace!" Madelief angrily raises her right hand, showing a necklace that has a broken chain.

"And what about it?"

"You broke it! On purpose!"

"Do not be silly! My fan just happened to get caught in it while I was immersed in my conversation with Lata," Janthe casually tells her, with no hint of remorse.

"It didn't just happen to get caught! You did it on purpose! You didn't need to stand so close to me! Frankly, you never stand so close to me! I should've figured that you're up to something at that point!" Madelief's voice starts to get louder, prompting her friend, Daisy, to show a worried face.

Lata, meanwhile, barely shows any expression at all - she has already gotten used to this type of situation. After all, they’ve had way too many encounters like this with Madelief already. And, as of late, her role is a lot more that of an onlooker. It was like that in the book as well, so she isn’t inclined to change that fact.

Meanwhile, Janthe's smirk gets bigger upon seeing Madelief get so worked up about everything. She can't help but rile her up some more, "And I figure you are delusional! And on a horse that is far too high for you!"

"Y-you-" Madelief's face is starting to go red from anger, but before she can retort, Daisy interrupts her.

"Maddie! I think it's better if we go!"

"Daisy, I can't just let this go!"

"You don't have to! But I feel like this might be getting a bit out of hand due to your feelings. I don't want you to do something that might bite you in the ass!" Daisy starts to gently pull Madelief by her arm.

"But-"

"Come on, please, Maddie! I know a good jeweller that can fix your necklace perfectly!"

Madelief hesitates for a bit, but upon seeing Daisy's worried face, she relents, "...fine."

'Oh, it's interesting to see Daisy to be the cool headed one for once!' Lata looks with interest at the retreating pair.

Lata jumps a bit as she sees Madelief suddenly turn her head and shout at Janthe, "Don't think that's how I'll leave things! Or anything in the future! I KNOW why you broke this necklace specifically, Lady Fiala! Your jealousy is very unbecoming- no - ugly! It is very ugly!"

"Maddie!" Daisy scolds Madelief, upon which the latter turns her head back again while mumbling a quiet apology to her.

Janthe angrily grips her folded fan upon hearing this. She nearly snaps it.

Lata sighs as she sees that, 'That last comment must've really affected her. It might take me some time for me to calm her down…'

***

SLAP!

All the ladies in the vicinity stare in shocked silence towards the way where the sound came from.

Two ladies seem to be at a stand off while two others are worriedly looking on. Even Lata, who had expected for such a thing to happen, looks at the situation with an uncomfortable look.

One of the ladies is the Duke’s daughter, and the other is a certain lady that the Crown Prince has become fond of.

The former’s face sports an angry look while her hand is up in the air - very clearly having done the slapping. The latter, meanwhile, is holding one of her cheeks - indicating very clearly that she was at the receiving end of the slap. Her face, oddly though, is showing a smile as she’s looking at her attacker, making the former even angrier.

“What are you smiling about! Are you fond of pain, like the vulgar person you are?!”

“Vulgar, hah! Look who’s talking - you’re the one who hit me!” Madelief instantly retorts, showing none of the fear or stuttering which she showed in her initial collisions with Janthe.

'Is she really the same Madelief I met several months ago? She's so different!' Lata marvelled a bit upon seeing Madeliefs growth despite knowing that she would go through one ahead of time.

Janthe's face got even angrier upon Madelief's retort and a snap could be heard, "How dare you have that kind of tone with me! Do not pretend to be so high and mighty in front of me!"

"Pretend to be high and mighty? I believe you've got things backwards. The only one I see on a horse far too high is you," Madelief said the last part in a very mocking tone, irritating Janthe a lot.

Yet, before Janthe could say anything, Madelief simply turned her back to her and started to walk away, leaving the former baffled.

"What are you-"

"I'm simply not wasting my time. You'll get what you deserve soon," Madelief answers her with a chuckle before turning to face her friend, "Come on, Daisy, let's go!"

"Okay!" Daisy follows Madelief with a smile as they leave.

Janthe was very annoyed at what Madelief said, but she was even more baffled at that sudden departure. She didn't quite know what to do as she stood there with a broken fan in hand. She felt very mixed inside, especially as her constant headache was getting worse again. Why couldn't any of the doctors she consulted with find a cure?

The loudly gossiping ladies surrounding her didn't help her headache either. Shouting at them to shut up started to seem like a really good idea for numerous reasons, but before she could do that, she felt a pair of hands gently wrap around her arm.

"Janthe? I think we should go."

'Ah,' Janthe thought as she stared into the ever so familiar green eyes in front of her, 'how does she do this? Simply being near her calms me so immensely.'

"Janthe?" Lata calls her name again while doing a little head tilt which Janthe finds to be rather adorable.

"Apologies, Lata, I was lost in thought," She finally answers her, bringing forth a smile in Lata. Janthe finds that to be rather adorable as well.

"It's alright! But I really think leaving would be a good idea."

Janthe answers her with a smile, "I believe so as well."

As they start to leave, Lata notices Randa in the crowd. They haven’t talked in months, due to her trying to avoid visiting Janthe when she’s here, but even seeing her makes Lata feel irritated. Her irritation flares up even more as she sees that Randa is quietly laughing at the whole situation.‘I know that you’re not that invested in this friendship we three have, Randa, but have some decency to not to laugh at this situation!’ Lata quietly mumbles to herself as she and Janthe leave the premises.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

The day after the dinner party in the late afternoon, Celaena was whiling her time away by flipping through the pages of the latest monthly issue of the fashion magazine La Belle Assemblée when she recieved a note of invitation from Lady Towper, one of her recent acquaintances, to a walk in Hyde Park later that afternoon with her and Mrs Burnwell, another society lady Celaena had befriended. The wording made it quite clear it was more a summons than an invitation and having spent the morning by herself, Celaena was eager enough for company that she happily put down her magazine and called for her pelisse and outerwear with alacrity. Twenty minutes later she was roaming around the park when Lady Towper spotted her, gliding across the path—there really was no other way to describe her graceful movement—with an elegant swish of her skirts and a look of exaggerated distress on her countenance, followed by Mrs Burnwell who looked rather piqued. "Dear Miss Sardothein," cried the former, looping an arm around hers. "How glad I was to hear you accepted my invitation. I wanted to take a walk around the park, refresh myself and Mrs Burnwell recalled you were rather fond of exercise and suggested we take you along with us."

Celaena rather thought that on a fine weather such as this, the ladies' primary motive for a walk was perhaps to see and be seen by the upper ten-thousands of the ton, most of which had returned from their summer estates for the social season which was to start soon but said instead, "I am grateful for the invitation. Your Ladyship has quite rescued me from certain death at the hands of boredom."

The ladies tittered politely, protesting that it was no great sacrifice on their part and the trio walked along the paths making light conversation until Mrs Burnwell jerked to a halt with a pinched expression. "Mrs Whitethorn."

Though Celaena had only met the lady once, she had been left unimpressed and could not fault Mrs Burnwell for looking piqued.

Mrs Whitethorn did not improve on a second meeting - not that Celaena had had any expectations that she would - and participated as much in the conversation with as much fervor as a lifeless statue, making occasional noises of agreement and dissent. Celaena who prided herself on being able to draw someone out of their reserve met with failure at every turn and it was not long before the ladies ran out of polite remarks to exchange and their party took their leave. Celaena spotted a group of children from her neighborhood racing each other in a less scenic path around the park and soon abandoned all sorts of decorum to join in on the shouting.

"FASTER, TOM! FASTER, YES, A LITTLE FASTER!" cheered Celaena, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her petticoats muddier than usual. She let out a high-pitched noise when little Thomas reached the finishing line and beamed. "I did it, I did it, I said I would, did I not? Oh, Cece, did you see me? I won!"

"You did very well, dear," said she, kissing his cheek. The smug look he sent his siblings' way had her struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, you won this time—" said his eldest brother in an arrogant tone, "—but I shall be the winner next time. Shall we play something else now?"

"Hide and seek!"

"Hopscotch."

"No! We must play cops and robbers today. You promised!"

"I want to play tag."

"We don't," said the twins simultaneously.

"Then blind man's buff?"

"I suppose we could—"

"Oh, no, I will not play that ever again."

Celaena smiled, watching the children argue over what they wished to do and looked at two children - presumably brothers - finely dressed and staring at the brood of children she was so fond of wistfully. "Here, you two, why don't you play?" asked she.

The younger boy beamed at the prospect but the elder looked uncertain.

He glanced over his shoulder anxiously biting his lip. "Oh, no, mama will be furious if we get our clothes dirty." But he looked at the noisy little children with such longing and he looked so serious in general with those deep blue eyes filled with sorrow and the brows that remained creased as if by default—more serious than a nine-year-old should be; he held himself with a ridiculous amount of poise, posture stiff and yet looked unsure of every little movement or sound he made, Celaena had a whimsical desire to have him enjoy himself.

"I shall tell you a secret," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is healthy to disobey your parents once in a while."

The poor boy looked scandalized at the thought of disobeying anyone. When had he last had some fun? she wondered.

He looked at the boys again, then at his boots, properly polished and finely made, then straightened as if he had come to a decision. "I-I thank you, miss, but my brother and I shall take your leave now." The formal tone so became him, she was struck by the intelligence in his expression and the confidence of his words despite the apprehension evident in his posture. He continued in a softer tone, "Mama says it is not proper to talk to anyone without being introduced."

"Then perhaps we might perform the service ourselves since no one else can? I am Miss Celaena Sardothein of Raven Hall in Derbyshire." She curtsied formally, suppressing a smile.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet.

Celaena took pity on him and smiled. "It's alright, I shan't force you into anything. You are a good boy, dear, to obey your parents so." He looked so surprised, and blushed all kinds of red, though his chest did puff out a little. When had someone last praised him? Knowing there was no more she could do, Celaena was about to bid the child a farewell when a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"Papa!" cried the little boy, latching onto his father's leg.

Mr Whitethorn patted his head and gently freed himself to step forward. "Stephen, what have I told you about talking to—Miss Sardothein!" He jerked to a stop, then recalling himself, bowed to her. "I cannot say how surprised I am to see you."

"Are you really, sir?" asked she. "You know me to be unconventional. This is exactly the kind of place you should expect to find me in." She nodded towards the elder boy who looked vastly relieved to have someone else do the talking on his behalf and the younger who clung to his father for attention, bouncing on his toes. "These fine young gentlemen are your sons?"

He confirmed that they were.

"Perhaps you and your sons could join us for a while?" Both boys looked excited for such a prospect though one was more successful at hiding it than the other.

"Please papa?" asked the five-year-old.

Mr Whitethorn rolled his eyes fondly. "After recieving that look, I should not dare refuse."

The child hugged his father tightly, then ran towards the group of boys. They accepted him immediately, having settled on the blind man's bluff finally and noisily took up positions, directing and misdirecting the child with the blindfold.

His elder brother looked lost standing by the side. He looked down at his hands. "...And he has run off already."

"Why don't you join him?" she nudged gently. I know they will be happy to include you."

Stephen swallowed, looking at his father who had a neutral face on and turned to her. "I thank you, but no—" then at her stern look, he admitted, "I, I won't know what to say to them."

"Just say you want to play."

"But surely, I don't, oh, I am fine here."

Celaena signalled for him to offer her an arm and escort her there. When he refused, she said, "You know it is not gentlemanly to refuse to escort a lady somewhere, do you not?"

Stephen huffed but gave in.

Shs clapped to get everyone's attention. "This is Master Stephen Whitethorn and that—" she nodded towards the younger, "—is his younger brother, Master..."

"Charles," the boy happily supplied.

"Right. Master Charles Whitethorn." The boy grinned toothily. "Be nice to them."

Stephen blushed at the attention, standing stiffly as one by one the boys spoke their names. He half expected them to call him names like wuss or a dreadful bore like his cousins and friends always did but no one did. In fact, as long as he played well, no one cared how loud he shrieked or how often he stumbled on the tree roots or how dirty he had gotten. As every minute passed, he relaxed some more until he was laughing and jumping along with the others with no care for his clothes or boots which were already ruined. Mama would have his head if she found out, yes, and she would scold him until his ears bled but was not all this fun worth it? How often did he have such a chance? He looked back at the spot where his father stood beside the woman—Miss Sardothein—and noticed she was watching him. He rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'you are welcome' but could not help the smile that followed after.

"Poor boy," Celaena sighed to herself. "He is too shy, and he feels inferior to his brother."

Mr Whitethorn said, "He is wise beyond his years. I do not know what to do with him sometimes." He looked down at his feet, a gesture she recognised as evident in his eldest son. "You sound like one talking with experience but I cannot imagine you being shy at all." The concern expressed on his face touched her deeply and she had the strangest urge to smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead.

"I should imagine not." She chuckled. "Eleanor, my adoptive sister is very shy—not like your son, mind—but I have seen firsthand her longing to join in on the fun and her hesitance to act on it."

They watched the children play and he chuckled. "Their mother will have a fit if she finds them so muddied."

"Their mother," said Celaena, barely restraining herself from snorting. "I do not think your wife likes me, sir."

"I think that is a point in your favor, Miss Sardothein," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched. Had she paid more attention to her dance partners the evening of the Thorpe's ball or less occupied with Lord Fenrys' veiled hints, trying to figure out the meaning behind his pointed commentary and the suspicious dinner invitation she had accepted out of curiosity, she would not have been surprised by how handsome he looked. But indeed, occupied as she had been on the previous occassions, it was not until he smiled a little that she was taken completely by how well the expression of fondness became him, how his features so perfectly formed, looked more beautiful and pleasing than ever. She gasped at how beautifully his green eyes sparkled when he stood just so, with the sunlight shining in them and how gracefully he carried himself with a hint of pride that was not unbecoming on his noble mein. If at that moment he had told her he was a prince from the fairytales, she would have easily believed him.

"Are you well, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena flushed bright red with mortification. "Oh, yes," she breathed out. She spent the better part of their afternoon walk attempting to squash the flutter in stomach by conjuring a confused, miserable Mrs Whitethorn waiting for her husband to return home. The trick did not work as well as she had hoped and when the sun started its descent, she was grateful to be able to part with some measure of equinanimity.

"You met who at a dinner party?" asked Lord Rhoe incredulously for the fifth time.

"Aelin." Seated across from his father in his private study and being the current object of the Earl's ire, James felt like the nine-year-old recieving a lecture from his father over one mischief or another when Rhoe could be bothered enough to care about something more than his next meal or the port supply. He had retreated into his own world soon after they lost his little sister and neither brother was inclined to give him more courtesy or respect than what was his due as a father. James felt he would have been perfectly justified in not informing his father of this discovery but he felt an uncharacteristic anxiety about her visit and was not inclined to risk her running into his ignorant father who would easily recognise her from afar. "Aelin was at the Thorpe's ball, the one my cousin and I attended recently, though we were not introduced. Fenrys ran into her at a nearby bookstore the other day and recognised her. Though I was initially sceptical and asked my solicitor to launch several inquiries into the girl in question and her family, Fenrys convinced me to meet her once and I—" there were hardly enough words to explain himself on this and James fell silent.

Lord Rhoe looked his disbelief.

"I know you do not wish for false hopes, sir, but I would not have come if I was not sure."

"I grieve her still," said Rhoe at last in a tone of gruff affection, "—and I know how it feels to latch onto hope but it is insanity to claim this-this madness—"

"It is not madness."

"You are letting your sentiments rule over reason. Aelin is dead, boy," said he, "and you had better drop this."

James was in no mood to drop it but Rhoe was overcome by a fit of coughs and slumped into his armchair. James rushed to his father, not sure what he would do but there was something so wrong about seeing his ever stoic, ever impassive father reduced to a fit of helplessness - no matter how small - like a common fragile old man that disturbed him greatly. James rubbed his father's back and called for a maid.

Rhoe tried to speak but a hoarse whisper was all that came out.

A maid stood at the doorway while the other rushed inside, fetching a glass of water from the pitcher. Rhoe drank it slowly, allowing the coughs to slowly fade.

"Aelin died," he choked out.

"You don't know that," reminded James gently. He was hesitant to press more but James wanted to clear this first hurdle before she arrived.

"I saw—I saw her body." Rhoe closed his eyes shut as if he was trying to block out a vision. "There was a body. Her body."

"Aelin disappeared," corrected James. "You found a body and identified it as hers but what if-what if it wasn't?"

"The magistrate found her anklet near the body. It was her. I saw the anklet."

James snapped his mouth shut. He had been nine when his sister disappeared and what little he knew about it was pieced together from eavesdropped bits of conversations and accidental slips from his uncle and aunt between the years. The Earl of Narrowcreek all but banned talk about Aelin in his home and neither son mentioned her for fear of his temper until memories of childhood acquired a dreamlike quality in his mind.

"The other anklet?"

"They never found it," said Rhoe.

James tried to consider his words carefully but . "I am aware my story sound like wishful thinking but I have—sir, I would not have believed my cousin if I had not seen her. She looks like my sister but more than that, she is-she is what I always thought Aelin would grow up to be: witty, charming and-and so wickedly clever." His words were more passionate than rationally thought out now but his father looked unaffected. James blew out a breath. "I invited her here for dinner, father. I wish to make Miss Sardothein aware of my-my suspicions. Despite what you say, something tells me I am right. I know I am. If you change your mind by dinner, you are welcome to join us tonight."

He thought his words might cause his father to at least promise to come; instead Rhoe latched onto another part of his sentence. "Miss Celaena Sardothein?!"

"The very one."

"You cannot mean to invite a tradesman's daughter into my house!"

"She is your daughter, sir!" said James sharply, feeling himself losing his control. "I mean to tell her of her identity today and you will not dissuade me from it." So saying, he quit the study door and left, suddenly quite anxious for the upcoming visit.

Celaena felt strangely off-kilter looking at a house that was as familiar as it was strange as she was handed down the carriage by a footman. Her nerves hightened for some unfathomable reason and in an attempt to distract herself by looking around the foyer of the Galathynius Townhouse, which was very grand. In the pride of the place stood an elegant water fountain, around which she could imagine a noisy brood of children splashing in and out. The elegant structure captured her interest until she stepped inside, feeling a vague sense of deja vu though she could swear she had never seen such a fine house before in her life—surely she would remember it if she had? It was not a forgettable sight—she pushed her unease aside, squared her shoulders and allowed the butler to divest her of her cloak and gloves while a maid waited to escort her to drawing room. The old servant started at the sight of her before he hid his surprise with an impassive expression like a well-trained servant, efficiently performing his duties, though she did not miss the way his eyes flicked back to her face repeatedly. Having never been invited to a private dinner before, Celaena had no expectations from the evening but was nevertheless surprised to be ushered into a private study instead of the drawing room.

A man sat in his armchair in a posture more befitting a young gentleman than an old, wealthy peer, though the grey hair at the edges of his temples belied his age.

"Miss Sardothein," said he.

Lord Rhoe noticed her surprise at being addressed by her name and smiled strangely. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. You have the whole town in a tizzy and you have in twenty four hours coerced my son into issuing a dinner invitation that is quite improper; an unmarried lady dining with two bachelors? Huge scandals have been created on far less."

"Then I wonder at your son's reasoning, for he issued the invitation. I only accepted it."

The Earl shook his head. "I know his reasons but I wonder at yours."

"I was curious."

He raised an eyebrow but she did not offer more explanation than that. "By accepting his invitation, you are putting your reputation in jeopardy, and with it, my son's."

She dimpled. "I might argue he did that himself when he issued it."

"I told you—"

"No, I told you," said she, rising from her seat, "—I am here on invitation. If you wish me gone from your home, ask and I will. But I will not accept an interrogation."

"I demand respect, Miss Sardothein."

"I shall never give it for that reason alone. I could not respect you if I wanted, sir," said she defiantly, rising from her seat, "for you were decided against me before I even entered your house—you who valued the gossip's opinions, or was your prejudice because of the grave sin I committed in being raised by a tradesman?" Her eyes flashed with ire and her breaths came faster. The Earl noticed none of it, struck as he was by the image of another adolescent ages ago shouting at his own father in the very same place. Miss Sardothein was a little older, perhaps and her features were not as delicate and soft but there was no mistaking her. He had crossed swords with his wife's younger sister to recognise her ashryver eyes and the colouring—

"Evalin," he whispered.

Bloody Hell.

Celaena's eyebrows creased when the older man looked at her in shock, then collapsed into the armchair he had been occupying.

"Uncle Rhoe? I heard raised voices—good gods, Aelin! Whatever happened here?"

If either of them noticed what name Lord Fenrys had unintentionally called her and to which she had answered, neither gave any indication. "He was telling me I should not have come and I was-I was defending myself but then he was, he was shocked at something and he said a name—Evelyn or something similar. Then he just collapsed into the chair." Lord Fenrys quickly and efficiently took charge of the situation, pouring her some wine for some semblance of calm, sending for his cousin and a footman to escort His Lordship back to his chambers. Lord Fenrys and his cousin had apparently been waiting for her in the drawing room downstairs and were not aware of her arrival. He had come to fetch a book from the adjoining library to pass his time when he heard raised voices. This assured her to some degree that she was not unwanted in the house, however as it belonged to the master whom she had quite shocked into fainting with her poor manners, she was not sure how much longer she would be welcome and expressed her desire to leave.

Lord Fenrys said immediately, "Leave? Goodness—no, my cousin will be quite cross with me if I let you leave before he comes. Do feel free to look around."

She did look around, taking in the elegant but never ostentatious furniture and the wall patterns which, though pretty, looked rather outdated. The study was well-lit with wax candles but looked cozier than she would expect an Earl's private sanctuary to look like. Her attention was caught soon by a bookcase by the farthest wall—presumably his favourites—and was surprised she shared similar tastes in reading with a man who had in a few minutes embodied all the worst qualities of the aristocracy. She moved past that wall only to come face-to-face with an unexpected portrait. It's objects—a husband, wife and their three children—sat in a formal pose but the picture radiated contentment, happiness and affection. It was perhaps something in the way the refined, elegant woman stared adoringly up at her husband or the look of affection he in turn bestowed on his two sons and a daughter who looked by turns bemused, bored and awfully wicked.

Her stomach twisted uneasily looking at the eldest son. "That. Who is that?"

"Edward," answered he. "Viscount Layton is not much fond of society. By the way his expression darkened, she surmised there must be some rift in the family—

Edward.

Edward Galathynius.

Celaena felt her own disquiet increase. Where had she heard the name before?

She glanced quickly at her host's cousin who was rifling through the drawers and examined the painting more closely. The children and the woman looked a great deal similar in colouring and in their eyes which were turquoise—

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold.

"Miss Sardothein?" Fenrys asked.

"Yes, yes, forgive me, Lord Fenrys. I feel a little, a little warm. He, your cousin—cousins, that is," she corrected herself, "they have—their eyes are a very unusual colour," she lamely finished.

"The ashryver eyes, yes." His tone was flippant, as though he had not seen her eyes. "As rare as they are beautiful, won't you say?"

Her stomach plummeted. She wanted to go somewhere—anywhere else.

Celaena tried to leave the room, her skin feeling too hot. Her knees buckled.

"Aelin!" Mr Galathynius stood in the doorway with his eyes wide.

Aelin.

She tried to ignore the implications of all that being called that name entailed.

Mr Galathynius gently led her to a seat away from the fireplace. Her head spun and her palms felt sweaty. "Home," she croaked out, unable to make out her own words. "I want home." Her skin flushed even more, her palms grew sweaty and her clothes felt coarse against her body.

Ashryver eyes.

The fairest eyes, from legends old

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold

She shut her eyes closed, willing her hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. How did she know that? She couldn't have known that. She had never met these people before, had never seen this place.

She had not.

She could not have.

Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her.

Aelin.

But how could it be?

Aelin died in a fire thirteen years ago, Fenrys had told her. When she was but five.

Arobynn brought her home and introduced her as an orphan the same year, the year she had turned six. Arobynn had found her as an orphan roaming the streets of London when she was five.

The dates matched.

The fire. A warehouse. Two men. A pistol. She tried to remember but came up short.

"Aelin," a voice gently called out.

"You are wrong," she insisted vehemently, "I am not, I am not your sister!" Her voice turned screeching. "I was—my family gave me up, they didn't want me. Arobynn saved me. He told me they didn't want me, he told me so himself."

Arobynn lies to everyone.

But he had never lied to her. To her, he had been honest as he should.

He would not.

"Shh, It's alright, Aelin." James scooted closer and talked in a gentle tone, wishing his elder brother was present to comfort her. Edward would have known how to calm her.

Edward always had.

"Don't call me that." She shook her head tearfully. "I am not Aelin. I am not."

James placed an arm on her shoulder cautiously. The gentle touch, the compassionate voice and the genuine concern almost undid her. "Aelin," said her brother—her brother, she thought with amazement that the words did not sound as strange as they should have—"I am sorry you found out this way. Indeed, there are a great many things we are not sure of but—but my father's reaction and your own confirms what I suspected."

"You told me she died." The words came out almost as an accusation.

"It is all speculation on my part, mind, but we were informed my sister died in a fire in a nearby warehouse. The owner was a rather genial fellow and my sister—you—were friends with the man's clerk. You were playing with Edward that day—that is our elder brother—and you broke your ankle. He went to fetch help from the manor house but by the time father was able to come, you were not there. The search parties could find no signs of you until the magistrate informed her of two bodies found in a nearby warehouse. The first a child, had near her an anklet we knew you wore that day and father thought—we all thought it was you. I do not know where you did go and how the anklet appeared there but—"

She frowned. "You think Arobynn abducted me for some nefarious purposes."

"Indeed not—"

"You do," she accused, looking away from the hurt in his ashryver eyes. "You think—you think he did that. But he did not. He would not do that to me."

"Aelin, I never—"

"He wouldn't!" Celaena sobbed hysterically. "And even if you do not, everyone else will. No one will believe this—this story of ours—your father, oh god, he doubted it! He thought me a fortune hunter and—and everyone will—"

"Father did not wish to hope only to be met with disappointment, dearest."

"I all but told my father to go to the devil," she said between sobs.

"And it is a darned good thing you did," said Lord Fenrys in a flippant tone. "Someone needed to take that old man down a few notches. Besides, I suspect when he wakes up, he will have his fair share of apologising to do."

Mr Galathynius hesitantly placed an arm around his sister's shoulder as though he expected her to pull away and run. But she was too exhausted to protest and too grateful to have something solid to hold onto while the earth shifted beneath her feet. Aelin buried her face in his chest, clutching at the lapels of his coat and James felt a tender affection towards this creature who was clever and witty in ballrooms, whose ire faded as easily as it was stoked and who went from one emotion to another to another in a few moments. If in that moment someone had told him he needed to fell a dragon in order to protect her, he would have happily taken the beast on with his sword. James had been too young to do anything but squabble with his little sister but he felt all the protective instincts of an elder brother now and the first stirrings of hope that his family might not be doomed to unhappiness forever after all.

Aelin pulled back and sniffed. "I am sorry, Mr Galathynius, I suppose—"

"It would please me greatly if you would call me by my first name, dearest." James wished again he had his brother with him. "I do not think father will be angry and even if he is, I hope you will not mind him too much. I sent an express to Edward the moment we returned from the dinner party. He will be here soon and he will be ecstatic. I know I am."

"I don't remember anything."

He shrugged helplessly. "It is to be expected, Aelin. You were only five."

"But Arobynn told me I was given away by my family to, to an orphanage. He found me on the streets."

Mr Galathy—James looked at her seriously, clutching her hands in his. "I don't know if he lied or not, Aelin, but know this: your family did not give you away—indeed, we have been miserable since you left us." He bit his lip, swallowed and asked, "Do you remember even a little bit of that day? You and Edward were playing outside, you broke your ankle and he came back to the house to fetch help. He was—"

"He told me to stay there," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I didn't."

"You were but five," said Fenrys in an attempt to soothe. "You could hardly be expected to listen to anyone." The siblings started in surprise, having forgotten his presence.

"Do you remember what happened after our brother left?" James prodded gently.

Celaena shook her head, eyes shut. She tried to remember the day on the field near the estate. A mud puddle. A fallen ribbon. Her anklet's weak clasp. Why are you alone here? A voice.

It was a man's voice.

He had promised to take her back. I will carry you home, come with me. Into the carriage, there. She had climbed into the carriage. Perhaps she knew the man? Surely she would not have climbed into a stranger's carriage?

You were but five.

She tried hard to concentrate but could not remember anything beyond that and she told her brother so.

"You need not force yourself to, but if you do remember anything more—"

"I will tell you," she agreed. "I always wanted an elder brother, you know?"

James Galathynius was an affectionate man and he itched to embrace his sister tightly, but restrained in fear of overdoing things. The last shreds of his reserve melted with her words and he pulled her close. His little sister. He wondered if there were sweeter words in the world. "I missed you so," he answered tearfully, "So did we all. Edward refused to look at pianofortes for months, they reminded him of you, he hardly ever comes to town and father so retreated into his study and there I was—Oh, Aelin, please don't leave again."

"I shan't," she promised.

"A gentleman's word?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a lady."

"It's the only kind of promise you didn't break when we were children. A gentleman's word?" She heard her own voice ask the question long ago. A vague memory.

Celaena smiled. "A gentleman's word."

Fenrys broke the moment, his eyes glimmering suspiciously. He sniffed. "Stop monopolizing her, cousin."

Celaena hesitantly rose from her seat, pressing a kiss against her cousin's cheek. "I know it's all a muddle still but thank you for finding me, Lord Fenrys." She smiled sweetly at him. "You told me Aelin was—that I was—your favourite cousin, did you not, Lord Fenrys?"

"You were—you are." He grinned. "Do stop with the lord business though—I am already determined we shall be the dearest of friends. We have always been alike in our dispositions."

"What he means," James grinned back, "is the both of you have always been utter rascals, making all our lives difficult."

"I don't know what you are talking about," huffed she with feigned indignation in her voice. "I am positively an angel."

"Oh, hardly!" Fenrys shook his head. "I never saw a more mischevious child. Aunt Meave swore you were the devil's spawn."

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh, yes." James grinned at a fond memory. "And I cannot blame her. You once sneaked a frog to her dinner table. It ended up in her plate somehow; it was horrific."

"Indeed, you scarred the poor woman," Fenrys quipped. "She specifically invites only adults ever since. James told us later how you twitched and groaned, shifting in your seat, trying to hide it in the folds of your dress."

Celaena narrowed her eyes. "If you knew, why did you not help?"

"I did not want to incur her wrath," he said. "Our father or brother would have protected you from her. I was on my own."

The remark brought her back to reality. "Father—Lord Rhoe—my goodness, I implied he was proud and arrogant and—and he fainted!" James hurried to assure her that he fainted occassionally and a physician had been sent for in any case and she should not worry overmuch about that but she could not help herself. However, not wanting to worry him more—the poor man was acting so casually as if expecting another fit of hysterics—she changed the subject to one she was curious about. "And Edward—you said he has been informed."

"If I know him at all, he will come running." Then, with due caution, "I know you don't remember a thing but Edward and you were particularly close—you filled buckets worth of tears when he left for Eton, you know? And when he came to visit for the summer or holidays and you were obliged to return to the nursery in the evenings, you threw such a royal fit until father allowed you to spend the nights in his room." By the tone with which he said it, Celaena rather thought it cost him something to admit this to her and she thought she heard a touch of envy in those words.

"It was perhaps not proper," agreed Fenrys, "but you would not eat or drink and he was forced to acquiese."

Celaena laughed. "That does sound like me." Then, sobering, "I should not—it's too late, I think I should return home."

"Home?"

Celaena amended with a smile, "Well, not my home, then. But I could not move here today, not with Lord Rhoe so—"

"Father will not object," said he, with conviction. "This is your home as much as it is mine or his. I am sure Edward will be furious with me if I let you leave." Then, noticing her reluctance, he gently smiled. "I understand you will need to get used to reality and I really would like it if you stayed but if you cannot—"

"Oh, no," said she, interrupting him. "I will—I will stay if you send a note to the Rhunns informing them where I am and if my maid and a few of my clothes can be brought—Elide, my maid, she will know what to bring—then I shall stay."

This was agreed to with alacrity and orders sent to prepare one of the finest guest rooms for temporary occupation. James noticed her pale countenance and offered to send a dinner tray to her rooms in a half hour if she would like to retire early. After they were informed that Lord Rhoe had been given laudanum to calm himself and would see them in the morning, there was nothing left for her to do and she accepted her brother's offer happily. Celaena thought she would not be able to sleep for hours, ruminating on the eventful day but the overwhelming emotions of the overdeal caught up with her and she was asleep before dinner arrived.

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory

[aria-chicken-flugget]

Disney World with The Brothers (+ Undateables)

HCs that no one asked for, i’m just self indulgent ✨

Link To The Brothers post

*Based on Disney World Orlando Resort*

The Undateables

Luke 👼

“Don’t hold my hand i’m not a child!”

Would grab your hand in excitement

“I don’t want to go on that boat ride it’s for babies!”

When no one else could hear, holding his arms behind his back whilst running his foot along the ground, blushing furiously -

“MC... will you take me on the ride, please?”

Cotton candy. Loves it. Would get it all over his fingers and all around his mouth.

Would be unable to hide The Brightest Smile TM when that Disney music plays and he sees the castle in Magic Kingdom

“Want to go on Whinnie the Poo?” “That’s a Baby Ride! >:(“

Goes on and LOVES IT

Has sooo much fun just getting to be a kid, holds nothing back after a little encouragement from you

You and Simeon look like his parents when you sit either side of him on a ride lol

Would be desperate to stay even when the park closes

“:’(“ “Hey, it’s ok! We’ll get to see another park tomorrow!” “:D”

Would hold onto yours and Simeon’s hand, humming the theme to Pirate’s of the Caribbean as you leave

“Did you have fun? I thought you didn’t like boat rides.” “That was a scary boat ride - the pirates were horrible.” Blush - deniaalll lol

Would berate you heavily if you tried to get him any kind of toy

Would take the toy home and never let go

Simeon 😇

“What’s a Mickey Mouse? I’m still new to this”

Always smiling and loves that he’s experiencing this with you and Luke

He LOVES Soarin’ as it feels like home but better, as he’s ‘flying’ with you

Trolls Diavolo into going on It’s a Small World After All and acts Innocent TM

Seems pleased enough, enjoys the experience but it’s made better by the company

Makes sure everyone has their belongings and is drinking plenty of water

“Do you need me to grab that for you, MC? I can hold it whilst you go on the ride with Luke?”

Asks Directions TM. Maps don’t work for this boi lol and he gets easily lost lmao

Wouldn’t purposefully ignore The Mom’s Itinerary but inexplicably keeps wandering off, eventually being found with an apologetic smile on his face

Doesnt understand you have to queue to get on until he gets told for the billionth time

Holds your hand as you both marvel at the fireworks, Luke on his shoulders with icecream

Gets Luke an autograph book and gets it signed by all the characters when Luke’s too proud or nervous to himself

“Yes there he is, Luke. He’d love a photograph. Luke? Luke!” *Luke blushing furiously from behind your arm* “SHUT UP SIMEON”

Looks the cutest when in character photos

Realises just how much fun he had when your on the way back from the park

Solomon 🧙‍♂️

Vlogs with Levi sometimes together sometimes separate, but his is more of a troll vlog

To Lucifer on camera - “WHAT ARE THOSE” “They are my crocs! >:(“

Goes FULL HAM TM with you by his side, it’s absolute chaos this boi does NOT run out of energy or things he wants to do

“I wanna go on Jurrassic Park” “... Solomon that’s at Universal.”

Would sneak you away from the brothers, would be very crafty about it to, no one would suspect a thing until it’s been hours since.

Would take the consequences with a nonchalant smile. Does. Not. Regret. A. Thing.

“Itinerary? What’s that?”

“The only good thing about Animal Kingdom is the Mount Everest ride.”

Claims he’s easy breezy about going/where to go in the parks

Actually has very specific favourites and dislikes

“But you said -“ “Yea but who the hell means it when you decide ‘It’s a Small World’” *eyeroll*

Still goes on the ride, and vlogs a meme out if it

Him and Levi SQUEAL at anything Star Wars

When no one is watching, he intesifies the fireworks with magic, watching you beam with amazement is what makes his day

Will try to sneak in a kiss during the fireworks

Barbatos 🕰

It’s the first time you see him smile, like a genuine smile

Is very quiet and is mostly there because of Diavolo, but rather enjoys the atmosphere

Surprisingly loves water rides

Despite being there because of Diavolo, Diavolo urges Butler Barb to let loose and have fun

He does to a degree but never falters his sense of decorum

Similarly to The Mom TM, would be very prepared. Need a napkin? Check. Anti bac? Check. Map? You got it.

When you decide to ride with him, his facade would falter, glancing around BAFFED

“Are - are you sure you want to ride with me, MC? Or did you mistake me for -“ “... Oh, ok.”

Suppresses the intense blush he feels at the revelation that you did, in fact, intend to ride with him

When he relaxes, may occasionally casually hold your hand, making you double take at his nonchalance

Would indulge himself with viewing the experiences you share in the different timelines in which you still go together

“MC, i’m taking you to dinner. If you’d like of course.”

Would be such a gentlemen and so relaxed at night, out of habit when he’s not with Diavolo, he can just simply be himself.

Will hold your hand as you watch the fireworks at dinner. A smirk on his lips before planting a lingering kiss on your cheek to both startle and excite you

Diavolo 👑

“Disney world?! DISNEY WORLD?! That is the no.1 place for your dreams to come true!”

Sincerely believes that is literal

That Laugh TM with his arms spread wide as he sees the Park entrance

Takes photos everywhere, even infront of a trash can - initially thinking “it’s a part of the experience!”

Gets too excited to follow Lucifer’s Itinerary

“Diavolo! You’re not supposed to climb onto the parade floats!”

Would scoop you up onto his back without warning, a ball of energy as he bounces around the park with you this way

“Wow! What is this delicacy?! It’s delicious!” “That’s just a Mickey shaped napkin, Diavolo...”

Would buy all of the balloons from the vendor, looking like a lunatic

“Where’s he gonna keep all those -“ “Don’t even ask.”

That one person who actually enjoys It’s A Small World After All. Sings along and doesnt stop for the rest of the day

Would wear several sets of Mickey ears at once, not realising or caring that it’s not how they’re meant to be worn

“Oh? Of course we can ride together, MC!”

Would smile that much more brightly as you suck up the enjoyment alongside him like a couple of sponges!

“That - that’s not a ride Diavolo -“ “But we must ride this monorail. It is a part of the experience!”

If he’s feeling comfortable, will wrap a strong arm around your waist, pointing out Tinkerbell to you when he spots her before the start of the fireworks

The link to the first post with The Brothers is above! Will edit both but have them for now and again, I hope these make you smile! ☺️✨

[unlockthelore]

Waiting

Lumine sighed. Another day passed with tasks and errands fulfilled but little clues to be found. Although her spirits were fairly dampened by the lack of progress, Paimon’s were still elevated. Her floating companion twisted and spun end over end in the open air, mottles of light drifting off her cape like snow, while her giggling joined the gentle winds rustling.

“Cheer up, Lumine,” Paimon urged, spiraling in circles around Lumine’s head and nearly blinding her as they walked past the fountain in the courtyard. Its waters dark and glimmering with stars, reflecting the clear blue-black sky overhead. Paimon skimmed the toe of her boots sending ripples across its surface, and kicking up a spray that Lumine batted away with a quick wind current. “That lady we met outside the city said she’d keep an eye out for your brother.”

“Yeah, but she also said that she only remembers the food she eats with people,” Lumine reminded, dull agitation wresting with appreciation for the woman’s effort to even remember. “She’s likelier to feed him then send him on his way than tell him where I am..”

Paimon hummed, her small hands twisting in the flared cuffs of her sleeve. “But wouldn’t it be a good thing if she fed him? Unless your brother’s a good survivor in the wild like you are.”

Lumine started to climb the stairs wrapped around the lower tiers leading up to the Cathedral. “Aether learned how to survive on his own just as well as I did, but that doesn’t mean I like him being on his own.”

The sooner she could find him, the better. A light particle drifted between her eyes and Lumine focused on it, bewildered. She tipped her head back to find Paimon staring at her while floating upside down. Her wide, dusky blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled widely, rounded cheeks tinted pink. “Paimon thinks you’re a good sister, Lumine, but you’re a worrywart too.”

Lumine choked on a gasp and pressed the toe of her boot down on one of the steps, glaring up at Paimon as she danced ahead. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering the question, Paimon laughed cheerily and zipped ahead, leaving a trail of starlight in her wake. Lumine smiled faintly and hustled up the staircase after her companion, peering up at sloped tiled roofs and warm amber lights filtered through nearby houses. Her heels clicked on the stairs noisily and she tried not to trip in her haste to keep up with Paimon.

Her companion spinning around in a flurry, her wings and white hair fanned out as she floated up the wall separating the stair flights. Lumine shook her head. If it wasn’t for decorum, she would have scaled the wall to hop across and chase after Paimon but it’d been raining naught a bell ago, and the walls were still a bit damp. If she slipped and fell, that would be embarrassing. Needless to say that Paimon wouldn’t spare her the embarrassment by not laughing. Resigned to her fate, Lumine climbed the staircase and turned on each landing until she reached the second tier.

In spite of Mondstadt’s penchant for drink and revelry, the City of Freedom was blissfully quiet during the night. Lumine sighed as she stared out at the stone walls, and buildings housed on rises, windmills turning lazily in the balmy night air by the occasional crisp breeze. Posts with lanterns hanging from their bent necks cast warm pools of golden light across the cobblestone, lighting up the skyline as far as the southern gates. A cricket’s chirping caught her ear along with Paimon’s not-too-quiet giggling, and another voice, softer in volume and curious.

“Is someone there?”

Lumine’s breath hitched and she pulled away from the parapet, jogging across the terrace until she came upon a few benches. One which was occupied by a young woman with straight brown hair, layered bangs brushing shy of her brow nearly covering the beginnings of thick bandages wrapped around her eyes in a bandana. Her lips formed an ‘o’ and she turned her head from one side to the other, then tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it lightly. “.. Maybe not..” She murmured defeatedly, leaning back against the bench, and seemingly unaware of Paimon hovering centimeters from her face.

To Lumine’s chagrin, Paimon seemed evident on exploring the young woman’s faculties as much as possible. She floated around her head while trying to make as little noise as possible then made faces in front of her. Even going so far as to disappear in mid air then reappear. Lumine frowned and marched over, trying to be as quiet as possible as she plucked Paimon out of the air by the back of her cape so quickly that the little fairy squeaked. Lumine yanked her close to body and away from the young woman surveying the air curiously, likely trying to find the source of the noise.

Keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible, Lumine treaded a few paces away then let the squirming Paimon go. The little fairy turned on her then paled as Lumine folded her arms and glared disapprovingly. “That was very rude, Paimon,” Lumine scolded, and the little fairy bowed her head while picking at her sleeves. “You shouldn’t be making fun of her like that.”

“I’m sorry…” Paimon whined and dropped her hands, descending until she was about eye-level with Lumine, her head hanging and arms swinging loosely at her sides like torn sails.

Lumine sighed. Despite how much knowledge Paimon possessed, she was a bit too honest and often came off quite rude and childish. Her little companion would get herself into a world of trouble if Lumine wasn’t there to pull her out of it. Such a thing should have become troublesome ere long but if anything happened to Paimon, Lumine wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself. The fairy sulked deeply, unwilling to lift her head even when Lumine unfolded her arms and set her hands on her hip.

That’s enough scolding for one day, don’t you think?

Lumine gasped and looked over her shoulder, scanning the terrace for the voice’s source.

“… Lumine?”

Her eyes shuttered and she sighed, turning back to Paimon, dusky blue eyes peeking from beneath her bangs. It wasn’t as if she could be angry at her for long but it was better that she understood what she did and apologized. Lumine shook her head then opened her arms. Paimon lifting her head and inspecting the gesture with a tip of the head then smiling wide, her cape fluttering around her as she darted into Lumine’s arms and hugged her tight around her neck. Lumine sighed, burying her nose in Paimon’s hair. It smelled like something familiar but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The rose-gold crown floating above Paimon’s head drifting to one side as the fairy rubbed her cheek against Lumine’s shoulder.

“You still have to apologize,” Lumine reprimanded when they separated, the tip of her finger poking Paimon’s nose lightly. The little fairy wrinkled her nose then wiggled it before nodding sullenly, drifting past her slower than before. Lumine watched her as she went then followed suit, smiling to herself. If only her brother could see her now - scolding a fairy of all things.

Lumine looked on with trepidation as Paimon hovered in front of Glory, worrying the tips of her fingers together. She seemed to be struggling with the words to say and glanced back at Lumine for assistance. As hard as it was to believe, despite how outspoken she was, Paimon rarely admitted when she was wrong. Lumine sighed and shook her head, walking over to the empty side of the bench and laying a hand on its back. “Excuse me,” she began softly, quieting her voice when Glory flinched and sat up straighter, turning in her direction. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

There was a bit of hesitation then Glory nodded, a smile curving her lips and brightening her face. “Of course, please..”

Lumine waved lightly to Paimon as she sat down on the bench’s cool surface, opening her arms to the fairy who occupied them and burrowed her face against Lumine’s chest, peeking out at Glory thoughtfully.

“Is your little friend with you as well, miss?” Glory asked, and Paimon squeaked while Lumine gasped softly then stroked the fairy’s hair reassuringly as she burrowed closer. “O-Oh, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to scare her..”

“P-Paimon isn’t scared,” Paimon insisted, quivering as she peeked out from Lumine’s arms, her brow furrowed and cheeks puffed. “Paimon was just trying to find a way to say sorry and you made Paimon forget!”

Glory’s brow furrowed and she bowed her head, her fingers curling in the hem of her skirt. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

Lumine frowned, clearing her throat and shooting a glare at Paimon. The fairy wiggled free from her arms then floated closer to Glory, swinging her hands back and forth. “No, Paimon is sorry,” she said. “Paimon didn’t know you couldn’t see, and was making fun…”

Glory lifted her head and turned in Paimon’s direction, her lips pursed. “I see…”

“It’s my fault as well,” Lumine chimed in and Paimon gaped at her while Glory turned toward her with a start. “I should have kept an eye on Paimon while we were in town. Being around so many people, I believe she’s a little more excited than usual. We’re both very sorry.”

A tense pause followed. Sorely, Lumine was reminded of what she hated most about apologizing. It didn’t have to be accepted, and in some cases, it often made the situation worse. Seconds stretched out painfully long and Lumine wracked her brain for something to say.

“It’s alright,” said Glory, her hands folded in her lap, thumbs overlapping. Lumine recoiled, blinking with wide eyes. Paimon drifting lazily through the air and watching the woman with keen interest. “I felt the little one.. Er.. Paimon nearby.” Her head tipped to one side and Lumine noticed the ends of her hair curled close to her cheek, brushing shy of her jaw while the rest cascaded down her back. “Some of the children like to play a similar game with me, so I don’t mind at all.”

Lumine hardly knew how to respond to that. Mean-spirited as the act could be, Glory seemed happy to simply be included. When Lumine nor Paimon spoke, Glory pressed on in the silence and leant forward to where Paimon was levitating centimeters in front of her. “Paimon,” she began, and Lumine almost giggled at how the floating girl stiffened up at the sudden address. “If you’d like to play again, perhaps we can when…” Her voice trailed off and curiosity coiled tight in Lumine’s chest as Glory turned toward her direction, prompting a flustered introduction.

“L-Lumine, I’m…” Lumine winced and shot a glare at Paimon as she giggled at her distress. Clearing her throat, her cheeks felt warm as she shyly muttered. “Lumine.”

Glory kindly didn’t mention anything about her slight stutter, seeming happier by the introduction if her widening smile was any indication. Paimon smiled in return when Glory addressed her again, her initial trepidation forgotten.

“When Miss Lumine isn’t busy, okay?”

Paimon nodded enthusiastically then remembered she needed to respond verbally, chirping excitedly, “Okay! Next time, you can make faces at Paimon.”

“I don’t know if they’ll be as entertaining,” warned Glory, and the pair giggled while Lumine looked on confused and relieved.

After that, the mood seemed to settle and Lumine reclined against the bench, half-listening to Paimon��s glowing accounts of the food she’s eaten since coming to Mondstadt. The night is warm and quiet with few save for the occasional knight patrolling the terrace. Lumine waved to a few who knew her. The title of ‘Honorary Knight’ coming with a bit of skepticism and recognition she wasn’t sure she liked. Still, it made her less of an outcast in this world.

Outlander, she thought derisively. Paimon was a native to this world and knew it well but Lumine herself didn’t fit in at all. She wouldn’t have mind it as it wasn’t the first time she and her brother traveled, only to be regarded oddly by the locals. But at that time, it was her and Aether. Like this, even with Paimon’s chattering and joyous companionship, she felt alone. The colorful individuals she’d come across only served to remind her that while she could be part of this world, she didn’t truly belong. And the only person she belonged with wasn’t there.

The same person who was always by her side.

Lumine closed her eyes and curled her fingers in the cloth of her bracer, exhaling through her nose.

“Is something wrong, Miss Lumine?” asked Glory.

Lumine looked over, surprised to find both her and Paimon looking at her. In her lull of presence, the pair had gotten significantly closer with Paimon going so far as to rest a hand on Glory’s shoulder as she floated parallel to her shoulder.

“Mmm,” strained Paimon, squinting at Lumine with an intensity to her wandering gaze. “Oh!” Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and she bobbed her head, seeming to come to her own understanding. “Paimon knows. Lumine is thinking about her brother, and she’s worrying again.”

Credit had to be given for her perceptiveness although Lumine didn’t like the dry look Paimon gave her. A rebuttal on the tip of her tongue until Glory interrupted with a light pat to Paimon's hand.

"That isn't anything to be ashamed of, Paimon," scolded Glory gently, her voice so soft Lumine would've almost mistaken it for the wind. She seemed wistful as she turned to face ahead and laid her hands in her lap. Her thumbs overlapped once then twice and Lumine wondered what it was she was thinking over. 

"I was meaning to ask, but it is late.." Lumine pointed out. "Why are you still out here?"

Glory pressed her hands firmly to her lap, the corners of her lips tightened as they lifted into a smile. “I’m waiting for someone… a few minutes longer won’t make much difference.”

“Waiting on someone?” Lumine asked, tipping her head to one side.

“Mhm, a Knight of Favonius, his name is Godwin.”

Paimon gasped loudly, “Godwin?!”, she laughed and spun around then held out her hands to Lumine who frantically shook her head. “We’ve met him before!”

“Really?” Glory perked up immediately, turned toward Paimon and Lumine inwardly groaned. “You must have come a long ways, he’s currently on an expedition so he hasn’t been home in awhile…”

Paimon cocked her head to one side, pouting. “What? But he’s right out—”

“Still,” Lumine quickly interjected, shooting Paimon a glance and shaking her head again. This time, the floating girl seemed to understand and clamped her hands over her mouth. Lumine tried to quell the panic from her voice, and it wasn’t hard to summon a sympathetic and empathetic tone when she noticed how desperate Glory seemed as she waited for one of them to continue. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick waiting for him..”

Glory lowered her head, nodding. “Maybe, but this isn’t solely for him.”

“It’s not?” Lumine asked, tilting her head.

Glory shook her head then clasped her hands over her heart, pressing them close to her chest til the fabric puckled beneath her quivering fingers. “I want to hear his voice and know he’s well,” she said, her smile withering. “It’s a little selfish. Sitting here and waiting for him to come back… he’ll only feel guilty.”

Lumine’s lips parted then closed, her thoughts drifting to Aether. Their entire lives had been spent together and while she knew her brother was somewhere out there - potentially hurt or needing help - would he have been happy to know she spent time looking for him? That she never stopped hoping, praying that their paths would meet again? Or would she have been just as selfish to put him before all of Treyvat? Was that selfish?

Lumine shook her head and said, “No, it’s not,” simultaneously answering her own question and Glory’s. Her smile soft as she relaxed on the bench and pressed her hands to her lap. “I’ll wait here with you, if that’s alright.”

Paimon cheered and flailed her arms. “Ooh ooh~! Paimon will too!”

“Thank you,” Glory sighed, giggling softly as Paimon floated around her. “You’re both very kind.”

Lumine hummed. “No, thank you.”

“Me?” Glory turned to her, lowering her hands.

Lumine nodded. “You reminded me to be patient..”

What was a little longer waiting if it meant they were together in the end after all?

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses - 4

Meet the Family 

Paring: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 3,500

Summary: The girls get to meet the family.

Warnings: Smut and Mentions of Death

A/N: I’m sorry that this took so long to publish. I had a major writer’s block. Also, the smut is not as good as I wanted so bear with me. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

It took five days to reach the group to reach the Orc Settlement. Most of the journey consisted of Fumnanya giggling at Sam’s (not so great, but whatever) jokes while sneaking in a kiss or two, Ghada acting like she’s above the romance then getting caught making out with Steve (she seriously likes it), and you giving Bucky the cold shoulder. You saw the regret in his eyes, but you were too stubborn to give him a chance.

The Orc Settlement was located in the lowlands of the Anchoria Steppes not far from the Tsurchack Forest with its center nestled between a segmented river and a good sized lake to its right. It consisted of a few hundred dwellings that seemed to be a nice cross between a yurt and a longhouse (**think Viking Longhouse**) built with reusable timber, metal, and stone. A couple of the dwellings near the edges were sectioned off into what looked to be farms of six to ten families. There were training areas and market places interspersed throughout the settlement. In the middle, there was a large arena like structure near the center next to what had to be the Elder’s Residence with more town like structures around them. Surrounding the whole settlement was a wall of stone, packed earth, and iron about 12ft high with sensors (probably a force field) sticking on top of it every five feet or so.

It looked beautiful, so different from your former home of extreme decadence.

“Welcome to our home. I know it’s not as-” Steve started.

“It’s beautiful!” Ghada exclaimed while turning her head to smile at him, “We don’t care where you live. We’re just glad you agreed to take us with you.” Steve responded with a low hum and gave her a kiss.

It would’ve been more, but Bucky cleared his throat, “We need to report to the elders as soon as possible.” It was followed by, “And not have you suck your match’s face.” Thankfully neither of the two lovebirds heard him.

Some of the children in front of the gates ran up to the group with bright eyes and smiles wondering if they brought back sweets and toys.

Steve smiled and responded with a ‘You’ll see’ and motioned to the elder’s residence.

Once you passed the front gates, you and your sisters were greeted with reactions ranging from awe to outright contempt. You wondered if they knew of your identities, but Bucky assured you that it was because his people are a bit weary of outsiders. He decided not to tell you about how some of Sophronius’ forces had the almost the exact same hair color and types of clothes, but that was for another time. Right now, he needed to get the elders to let you three stay.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

When they reached the Elder’s Residence – a large longhouse consisting of wood, stone, metal and sturdy fabrics at the top – you stopped yourself from taking another step passed the threshold. What if they didn’t accept you? What if the elders or other members ratted you out to Sophronius? Or will they just have you exiled once they get the riches you and your sisters brought?

Bucky sensed your trepidation and put an enormous hand on your right shoulder, “It’s okay. You’ve got this.” With that your group entered the building.

The elders sat on a raised rectangular dais in the middle of the room with two guards on either end. There was a chandelier and torches all around the main room. Various statues and artifacts of elders passed are placed/hung around the room.

It was intimidating to say the least.

“Welcome back, warriors! Were you successful in your mission?” One of the elders,  Argusa, inquired in Orcish.

“We ran into an old woman who directed us to the lost capital of the Nephrashim.” Steve explained.

“That is nothing but myth, Rogers! If you found nothing than just say so. Honestly, one would think that the halflings would be better at excuses than this.” One of the guards, Figrel, scoffed. He later raised his hands in surrender when Bucky moved in to pummel him.

“Enough, Figrel! Please continue Steve.” Cladista, another elder, gently urged.

“We found the capital to be deserted...except for the princesses. They were at the palace. They agreed to come back with us and we were able to procure valuable medical supplies, building materials, and treasure that we might use for trade.” Steve reported as the elders fixed their gazes onto you and your sisters.

The staring went on for three minutes. No one made a sound as the elders were casting their initial judgement upon you.

With a loud sigh, Argusa spoke in Common Tongue, “We will hear their case. Tell us, why should we let you stay with us?”

Ghada took a cautious step forward, “My sisters and I can offer our services. Fumnanya is a skilled medic and scholar, Y/N is an amazing inventor and metalworker, and I am trained in trade deals and negotiations. Furthermore, all three of us are pretty well versed in combat and culinary arts.” She appealed while searching for any sign of approval from the elders.

“We can attest to their skills if it’s of any consequence.” Sam piped up when it got eerily quit again.

“Interesting. What do you think, Zadia? You’ve been awfully quiet.” Argusa inquired as she turned to the last elder.

“Hmm. They can stay with Bucky’s sisters and stepmother for now. We shall see about their services another time. Enjoy your stay, girls.” Zadia decided while motioning the group to leave.

The short excursion to Bucky’s family’s place was nice. More people warmed up to you (and by that I mean no one gave the three of you blatant glares of contempt), some even walked up and asked questions about you.

It was nice, but all that didn’t matter if Bucky’s family didn’t like you.

You kept telling yourself that you didn’t care what they thought of you, but you knew that was a lie. It angered you that you cared so much. He was the one that said no! Then why did it hurt so much?

Bucky’s sisters and stepmother lived on a farm near the outskirts of the settlement. It comprised of one large dwelling with four smaller ones surrounding it in a circular fashion. Outside of the dwelling circle were smaller cabins and huts for storing food, livestock, hunting tools and combat weapons, and stables for their dire wolves and eagle horses.

It was nice getting to know Bucky’s family. He had three younger sisters – Rebecca (Becca/Becky), Isolde, and Melisende (Meli) – along with Aspasia, his stepmother, a brother-in-law and three nieces and one nephew. They joked and laughed with you three about embarrassing hijinks the guys performed during their youth. You shared some of the your stories about Nephrashim and your former lives. They quickly accepted the three of you as family.

Furthermore, it was nice not having to worry about princess duties and royal decorum. All of you helped around the farm doing several chores for the first time; you didn’t have any hiccups besides Fumnanya freaking out over one of the eagle horses, but Sam handled it.

The only thing that could be better is the treatment you got from the rest of the settlement. Most of the inhabitants either scowled or just pretended that you three didn’t exist. Becca explained that it was because almost none of them had seen clothes and features (hair/eyes) like yours before, but you knew better. It was because they knew you were from Nephrashim. Bucky’s family never breathed a word about it outside the farm’s borders and you doubted the elders would say anything.

Well, you hoped that it would get better. And it did.

An outbreak of Sxtatzia (a cross between Smallpox and Influenza but for orcs) swept through the settlement. Most of the inhabitants who were infected got better except for Zadia.

Just about everyone had lost hope when Sam and Bucky marched in with Fumnanya and Meli in tow (Fumnanya had been teaching Meli some basic medical procedures and best practices). Fumnanya was able to work her magic after Sam threat-, ahem, insisted the guards let her look at the elder. It took the team four hours to create a viable and effective cure.

The day after Zadia was shown to be steadily getting better, the elders put the former princesses to work. Ghada assisted the traders in negotiations, trade deals and some body language/social cues that surprisingly holds up. Fumnanya taught the medics the different practices, poultices, and minor surgical procedures she knew. You taught the metal artisans what you knew about engineering and metalworking techniques.

The warriors couldn’t be happier with this new development. Well, maybe they missed having the three of you near them most of the time, especially Bucky.

––––––––––––––––––––

It had been three weeks and you still hadn’t talked to him besides an occasional sentence and he was getting pissed. Everyone else tip-toed around the subject of you two and it didn’t help that Steve and Sam were getting closer with their matches. Bucky had to go on hunting trips on his own if only to have a respite from the non-stop lovey-dovey chatter about their matches.

He finally got his chance when he was walking (lurking) around the blacksmiths/artisan section where you had your workshop set up. You were giving a welding demonstration when a little shit, Figrel’s younger brother, attempted to grab your ass.

Bucky strode right into the workshop, punched the little shit, threw you over his shoulder, and went on his merry way back to his dwelling on his family’s farm.

“What the fuck was that?!” you shouted as he plopped you onto a nest of cushions.

“I can’t let you go back there. All those eyes leering at you.”

“What do you care? You were the one who said no at the baths!” You countered as you stood up to take your leave.

You didn’t even make it past him because he growled in frustration and spun you around to face him.

He inwardly smirked at your whimpering, loving the way your lower lip quivered.  

“Because you’re MINE!” Bucky bellowed.

You gazed up at him with coy smile, “Prove it,” and he smashed his lips against yours and pushed you onto his bed.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bucky may have had plenty of sexual partners, but he never kissed anyone...until you. Now he could see what all the fuss was about.

He pried open your mouth with his tongue and groaned when you accepted him while wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He loved the way your tongue danced with his and ended with your graceful but fierce submission.

Once he finally broke for air, Bucky moved to your jaw and neck gently nipping your skin with his tusks. He peppered you with kisses causing small moans to escape your desperate lips.

“Bucky please!” You pleaded as he sent waves of heat to your core.

Bucky stopped his touches, looked you right in the eye, and responded with, “Not yet,” and continued undoing you.

He ripped off your vest and worker blouse and hummed at the sight of your chest. Seeing you now, panting with a ‘giddy fucked’ face, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, made almost all the blood in his face go straight to his cock.

He dove into your chest, licking and gently sucking your breasts while you grabbed his soft dark brown (almost black) hair moaning his name. He worked your breasts so well that you came for the first time in your life within minutes.

“Bet you’ve never had one of your human boys do this to you, woman?” Bucky remarked with a smirk as he ripped off the rest of your clothing like it was tissue paper.

You could only gasp out a ‘No’ before Bucky sprinkled your midsection and hips with sloppy, desperate kisses (he used a lot of tongue) which again caused you moan. You wondered how much more you could take.

The Fae’s training never prepared you for this!

When he finally got to your thighs, Bucky hummed as he took in the sweet smell of your arousal. He faintly kissed and nipped at your inner thighs causing you to cry out in euphoria and impatience. He ignored your cries and gave your slit one long, slow lick.

You hissed at the sensation both from how amazing it felt and frustration from both Bucky and yourself for denying it from happening sooner.

Bucky’s enormous tongue attacked you pussy alternating between your clit and your folds. He soon added a thick finger to the mix causing to edge again and again until you beseeched him to let you come.

“You’re MINE princess! SAY IT!!”

You whimpered at his demand and Bucky stopped moving altogether.

“SAY IT!!”

You mewled, “I’m yours! I’m your bitch!”, you answered remembering what Becca said male Orcs loved to hear their women say.

Bucky chuckled and got up to remove his clothes and decided to make a show of it.

You were sober enough to gaze lustfully at his sleek, muscular, ruggedly handsome frame. You heard the women in the settlement gossip about how they thought the likes of Bucky is wasted on a ‘stupid trollop’ like you.

Checkmate bitches!

He removed his loincloth, his last bit of clothing, to reveal a behemoth of a cock.

You almost gulped at the size. You and your sisters have heard about cocks from gossiping maids and servants before the curse. Those ones sounded like they were a good size, but Bucky’s was on a much higher level.

Bucky, the lovable but cocky bastard, smirked, “Never seen one this big, huh?”

You bit your lip and looked down in shame, “I haven’t seen one at all.”

“And it’ll be the last one you’ll see, sweetheart.”

You let out an uncharacteristic giggle as Bucky parted your legs and lined his cock at your entrance.

He went in slowly as to not hurt you, but you still hissed at the size of him. You’ve never felt so full in your life.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Bucky grunted, “So tight!”

He filled you to the hilt and stayed there for a few minutes while he helped you get your breathing under control.

He started with slow strokes, savoring the way your pussy squeezed him, like you were made for him. He tried to keep it slow out of respect since it was for first time, but you felt so good so he picked up his pace.

The earlier feeling of discomfort at his size soon faded into euphoria. You never dreamt of pleasure like this. Now you understood what your and Bucky’s sisters were going on about. You mewled when Bucky hit your G-Post just right.

It wasn’t long before your first orgasm hit you like a tsunami and you convulsed around him a wave after wave of carnality washed over you. Soon Bucky came with a roar, shooting long thick ropes of his cum into you to the point of creating a bulge in your midsection and you passed out.

When you awoke, you felt a strong arm wrapped around you and a hand gently stroking your hair and back.

“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”

You open your eyes and looked up to see love (actual love, not lust) and understanding etched in Bucky’’s features. You never knew you needed it, for someone to actually see you for yourself, not what you could give them.

He exhaled, “I’m sorry for the baths. It’s just that I didn’t want to have sex and then you’d leave me. I know it selfish, but-”

You stopped him with a soft kiss on the lips, “Why would I leave you? You actually see me for myself and not for my former station or as an annoyance. Okay, minus your sisters, stepmother, nieces and nephew because they are awesome.”

Bucky chuckled as his some of his long hair fell in front of his face, “I’ll be sure to tell them that, but not Becca. She has a big ego as it is.”

You giggled in response,”That’s fair,” you bit your lip and shot Bucky a coy look, “Do you want to go again?”

You didn’t need to ask him twice.

You two were at it for the rest of the day. The sounds of your lovemaking evident to the rest of the farm’s inhabitants.

“Finally!” Becca exclaimed as she and Ghada were sewing new clothes for the orclings.

Isolde chose that moment to walk into the common room, “Yes! I get my room back!”

The princesses and their matches were in bliss. Everything was right with the world...until it wasn’t.

––––––––––––––––––

It was two months after you and Bucky officially got together. The whole settlement had gotten into an easy rhythm of things when one of scout’s warning horns went off.

“It’s the Horde!”

Everyone who was not fighting was running to the shelters. Bucky had asked you to stay with Becca’s children and mother. You wanted to get angry, but you knew it was because he  wanted someone he trusted and loved to have his stepmother’s back. So you grabbed Waning Swan and ran to the shelters.

The battle lasted until morning and the settlement won, but at a price. Casualties came in at  80 dead and 200 wounded. The scariest thing wasn’t the gore or the corpses, it was the words, “He Knows”, scorched into the ground in front of the arena, or the Assembly Place.

Later that day, everyone who was able crowded into Assembly. Everyone’s eyes were boring into you. Fumnanya kept her head to Sam’s chest, but it wasn’t working.

“I knew those harlots were trouble the moment they strode into our settlement!” A woman who lost her mate to the battle shouted. A chorus of shouts of agreement followed.

Ghada was getting nervous as evident by her squeezing both yours and Steve’s hand. Luckily someone stood up for the group.

“I understand that you’ve suffered, Brida. I lost a son to the Horde, but we can’t blame it all on them. Sophronius has been after us for years. Be reasonable.” Agi stated while the guys gave him a nod of appreciation.

“Fuck that! You’re only saying that because you were they’re mates instructor and your nephew married one those mongrel bitches!” Baldo, another older warrior, exclaimed.

Big mistake.

It would take ten years to ascertain what really happened in the five minutes that followed. Baldo was thrown out of the Assembly, Brida was nursing a broken jaw, Becca had a wound on her left forearm from a sword, and Bucky had to be kept from attacking an idiot by Sam, Steve, Agi, and five other orcs. Everyone else was in an uproar and honestly, a full on fight was going to break out.

“SILENCE!” Argusa roared.

“We need to rebuild. Callisa, can we get a status report by the end of the day?”

Callisa was about to answer when someone demanded that they should do something about the Horde.

Steve gave everyone in your group a knowing and somewhat crestfallen look, “We’ll go to the Resistance and see if they can help.”

It took some minutes before Argusa gave the group an answer. The settlement tried to stay away from Sophronius and the war, but one could say their chickens have come home to roost.

“Alright then, you three take the girls and go first thing tomorrow.” Argusa decided.

“It’s not fair! You just got ‘ere, Auntie! Ingunn cried as she hugged Ghada. All of the orclings were crying and it was breaking your and your sister’s hearts. They’ve made such an impact in your lives that it hurt to leave them now.

“I’m sorry, love, but we have to leave. We’ll be back before you know it.” Ghada reassured her, but you had a feeling it would be a while before your group would return.

With one final hug and a pat, you said your goodbyes to the orclings. Meli, Isolde, Aspasia, Becca, and her mate, Gernot were waiting for you all at the gate.

“I know you’re sad about leaving us, but we will meet again my dears.” Aspasia uttered as she gave each of you a hug.

“Take care and keep these knuckleheads in line.” Becca joked while she gave Bucky a playful punch to the shoulder.

So with a heavy heart, you left the place that felt more like home in many ways than the place you were born.

The group headed southwest to the coordinates a trader said that he saw some Resistance Members. You were crossing a valley when an unscented flash landmine went off and everything went blinding white then black.

Next thing you knew, your group was in chains surrounded by a group protected by shadow...except for five individuals wearing necklaces and a medallion that belonged to…

“Mother!”

Taglist:

@lookiamtrying​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @retroxvailles​ @imdarkinme​ @dahkness​ @pseudonymphet​ @giorno-plays-piano​ @mcudarklibrary​ @anyatheladyclown​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @macheregrace​ @hurricanerin​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @sapphirescrolls​

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

[disenchantedhq]

It is the early crack of dawn post May Day celebrations and this Author suspects she is not the only one who is awake. The Faerie Bacchanal may just be ending, those in attendance might still be in a carriage on their way to their townhomes, but sleep will not hide them from this Author’s pen.

We’ve often been told of the extravagant and occasionally sinful parties the Fae are know to throw, but this is the first time any members of Auradon have had the pleasure to attend. And pleasure they found. It seems most of our young Lords and Ladies of the Ton left their inhibitions at the door and acted upon their most primal of urges. Could this be because their mothers were not in attendance, and there was an air of freedom? This Author suspects it could be a factor, but there is more at work here.

There have been whispers of enchanted faerie foods. Foods that could cause those that consume it to tell nothing but the truth, or do whatever is ordered of them. This Author should like to hope this is not the case, as it is in poor taste to enchant your guests without their knowledge. Enchanted foods seem to be one of the only explanations as to the behavior that was shown at the Bacchanal. And I’m sure all of you readers are curious as to what exactly transpired within those walls. Do not fret, dear readers, as I will tell you everything I know.

We shall start with the High Prince of the Faerie Court himself, Sevastyan Petit. The Prince was often found in the company of other fae, seated above the splendor to take in the party. Some whispered his mood was sour, and other’s said this was due to one of his couriers and future bride, Silverbell of Neverland. We are unsure of what transpired between the two, but they remained on opposite sides of the manor for most of the night. When they did finally return to their chambers at the parties end, they were both uncharacteristically solemn and serious.

It seems the High Prince did sneak away for some time with Mr. Nikolai Chernov. What were the two doing? Play cards or sharing a brandy, perhaps? This Author thinks not. Wrestling is more like it, with how disheveled both looked afterwards. Speaking of Mr. Chernov, we were told he spent a remainder of his time with Miss Genevieve Schwann. This is the second time the two have been seen together at a formal event, and it seems they may be courting. We have not heard of Mr. Chernov calling upon Miss Schwann at her townhome, but perhaps this is the early stage of an impending nuptial?

Love was in the air last night, and it was not just Mr. Chernov and Miss Schwann that felt it’s soft caress. Lord Eadric Pendragon was seated incredibly close to Miss Li Yue, one might say too close, for a couple that is not officially courting and was without a chaperone. We are unaware of what was spoken between the two, but Lord Pendragon seemed extremely pleased with whatever the topic of conversation may have been. Lord Phineas Charming and his fiancé Miss Sonya Sudayev shocked all those in attendance by sharing a very public kiss in the middle of the party. The two were seen leaving the event together and it is uncertain where they ended up, together. This Author is certain if the two had not already been engaged the be married, she would be hearing about an upcoming wedding in the near future.

Miss Sabine Facilier and Mr. Marcelo Clayton were also seen sharing a kiss in view of all those in attendance. This Author must confess she is unaware of what is acceptable for men and women out in society in the Shadow Realm, so she can not say if an official courtship or mention of an engagement is to be expected of these two.

There seemed to have been a number of close encounters during the event as well, or at least, encounters that lacked the decorum we often see at Auradon City events. Lady Drusilla White-Prince and Miss Gwendolyn Dallben were seen dancing and gossiping at the party. After dispersing Lady White-Prince was dancing with Miss Yasha Rasputin, sans shoes and gloves, in what looked to be they're under garments. Miss Dallben disappeared for some time, before returning later in the evening from outside, absolutely drenched from head to toe. Cheeks flushed and dress almost sheer, she was followed by Lord Lark Andersen, who was in a similar state. We have been told the two were traipsing through a fountain on the grounds together. Some even whispered of a near kiss being exchanged between the two, but it is uncertain if this exchange did in fact transpire.

Our future Queen, her Royal Highness the Princess Emma Perrault spent most of her time dancing the night away with every eligible gentleman that approached her. We have yet to place bets on who she could potentially enter a courtship with during this season, but she has been particularly close to Mr. Baxter Pan-Darling. We’ve always assumed the two were close friends, but could there be something more there?

Silverbell was also seen spending a bit of time with a number of different people. In close quarters, but we found last night that seems to be how faeries interact. She spent some time with both Lord Raymond James Maldonia and Mr. Benedict Smeethington, but retreated to her private chambers with Mr. Andres Hook. We are unsure if he was present for what transpired between Silverbell and the High Prince, but we are certain at the time of writing this, he has yet to leave the manor.

Lord Citrouille seemed in good spirits throughout the night. In fact, some said he was singing a rather loud sea shanty to those who passed, while removing certain items of clothing. This Author is unsure of where he may have heard such a song, but we suspect it could have come from a certain pirate, Mr. Hook, that he spent a portion of his time with. Miss Mercedes Reyes also had a shy smile on her face for the majority of the night. In fact, she spent most of her time with the fae, speaking with them and learning of their ways. I am unsure if she agreed with their way’s, as her posture was quite timid.

The entire night was not just happiness and stolen glances, there was also some tears and tense words exchanged.

Mr. Nasir Ababawa and Mr. Abraham Mariner seemed to be in a rather heated conversation. We are unsure if it was an argument, as fists were never thrown, but the two did leave together, with Mr. Ababawa leading Mr. Mariner away from the festivities. Both Lady Astrid Bjorgman and Mr. Benedict Smeethington seemed to have strange reactions to the food they consumed. The two seemed to break out into cool sweats, turn as white as a sheet, and abruptly leave the party. This Author was unable to detect what it is they saw that had both leaving so abruptly, but one could suspect it might be a ghost of their past come to haunt them.

Lord August Fitzherbert was also seen leaving the party early. He was last seen in the company of Miss Theodora Le Bouff, before storming off into he night. Some mentioned there were even tears spilling down the Lord’s cheeks, as he retreated to his carriage. This Author is unsure of where he ran off too, but there are rumors he was seen packing bag and leaving the city early this morning.

As for the rest of the guests, there were a few that seemed unaffected by those around them. Perhaps they did not eat any food, or maybe the food was never enchanted in the first place, and many of those in attendance were momentarily caught up the splendor and mischief of the Fae?

This Author is still learning about the events that transpired last night, and will continue to report on them throughout the week as she hears about them. But until then, have a wonderful morning Auradon.

[the-coldest-goodbye]

Stannis Baratheon – SFW Alphabet Headcanons

Stannis Baratheon x fem!reader

A/N: I have a headcanon backstory of how the reader and Stannis come together, which I describe in more detail under “B = Best friend.” The tl;dr is that you two marry for political reasons, not for love, but the friendship between you (and eventually love) emerges from this alliance as you two get to know each other better.

This is pre-Selyse, pre-Shireen, and pre-Melisandre.

Also, apologies about length. Some of the headcanons at the beginning are ridiculously long because I want to get my headcanon backstory in there to give more context to future answers, but they get quicker and easier to get through in the second half.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Stannis is by and large pretty unaffectionate. He’s not very in tune with his emotions, especially not the “softer” ones. He shows little to no PDA. He might take your arm and escort you when you appear together in public, but it’s done more out of a sense of husbandly duty and for the sake of keeping up with appearances, not really done out of warmth or affection. In private, he may open up a bit more around you and may show a slightly more vulnerable side, but only after a long time of trust being built up between you two. He’s pretty awkward and uncomfortable with affectionate words and touches because they don’t come natural to him. He would get red and flustered when you’d show affection towards him. Despite his initial discomfort, he surprisingly didn’t hate it and kind of grew to enjoy the affection you gave to him.

He would rather show his affection by being very loyal to you. He would never do anything to dishonor you, and he wouldn’t stand for you being disrespected by others. Even if he wasn’t good at expressing his feelings verbally or with touch, he’d show his affection for you through acts of service. He would ensure that you’re safe and taken care of and have everything you need. He would even come to learn things like your favorite meals and would make sure the cooks made them regularly for meals, or he’d learn your favorite colors and have dresses made for you in those colors. He’d also come to respect you and your perspective on things. He would confide in you and seek your counsel on important matters.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Your friendship comes after your marriage. Love comes even later. Your relationship starts off very practical and without emotional attachment. His brother Robert had just taken the throne. Stannis was the second son of what had just become the most powerful house in the seven kingdoms. You were from a smaller noble family, and your parents knew that marrying you to a Baratheon was a good move for your house. Stannis knew of your house’s importance in your region and knew it would be a smart political move to unite your houses so he would have an influence there. Stannis was the one who proposed the idea of him marrying you to your father. He had met you a few times and you had left a good impression on him every time. You had a good head on your shoulders. Your father seemed to have similar ideals as Stannis, as did you. You would occasionally chime in during political meetings and Stannis thought your input was very thoughtful and measured. If he were to marry, you seemed like a good choice.

Your courtship was chaste and fairly traditional. The two of you spent a bit of time together to get to know each other, though there was no love or romance there. This shared time confirmed his earlier impressions of you as thoughtful and clever, and you got to learn more about him as well. He wasn’t the most charismatic or charming, but he seemed respectful and honorable. Though he wasn’t the smoothest with his words, he was respectful towards you through and through. You had heard girls share stories about his brother Robert, how he was a womanizer and a brute and a lush, but Stannis was nothing like the eldest Baratheon brother. Maybe he wasn’t your Prince Charming, but he seemed like a man of honor. Maybe you didn’t love him (at least not at that point), but you felt that the two of you could build a life together based on mutual respect. As far as potential husbands went, it could be a lot worse.

After marrying each other, the two of you continued to learn more about each other and eventually built a friendship between you. You become friends when he shows he’s not as icy cold as he appears and when you show that you’re trustworthy, loyal, and genuine. (He detests the fakeness of social and political conventions that come with being noble-born. He likes someone who cuts to the chase instead of beating around the bush.)

As a friend, Stannis is loyal and honest. He wouldn’t hold back on his opinion. He’d often give unsolicited advice, which can be annoying, but it’s coming from a place of care and concern. He’s not the best at showing sensitivity in delicate situations, so don’t expect him to give you comforting words or sympathy. He’d rather give you advice on steps you should take to resolve any issues you’re facing. Though this can initially come off as uncaring or aloof, you begin to learn that this is just his way of showing concern and wanting the best for you. He would be a great ally to have. He’s very reliable and keeps his word. Stannis can be a bit of a stick in the mud and isn’t the most fun. He very rarely shows humor, but when he does it always catches you off guard and makes you burst out laughing. He tries to keep a stony face because he doesn’t want to reveal how pleased he is with himself for eliciting that kind of response out of you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s pretty uncomfortable with cuddling. He generally won’t initiate it. He’ll tolerate it if you initiate it, but he’ll be pretty stiff about it and might cut it off after a little while. He’ll lay back and allow you to snuggle into his side or rest your head on his chest, and he might awkwardly place one of his hands on your back and pat you. He wouldn’t like to sleep cuddling. He prefers not touching during sleep so he can get uninterrupted rest. As your relationship continues and he’d find himself genuinely falling for you, he’d find himself more eager to cuddle with you immediately after sex when he’s feeling vulnerable and exposed. Your touches would assure him that you also feel some level of affection for him and that you’re not just having sex with him out of a sense of duty to try and produce an heir. He’s not used to other people feeling affectionate towards him and so he’d be insecure once he genuinely began to fall for you because he wouldn’t be sure if you shared those feelings.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As a Baratheon, Stannis feels obligated to rule over a castle, get married, have children, and continue the Baratheon line. He doesn’t look at it with romanticism but rather as his duty. However, once the two of you become more comfortable with each other and he begins to view you fondly, you would begin to feel like home to him.

As a nobleman, he doesn’t bother with cooking and cleaning as there are other people to do that for him. He tends to be naturally tidy, though, and he runs a tight ship. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Stannis would be pretty straightforward and blunt if he ended your relationship. He doesn’t approach tough subjects with much decorum or sensitivity.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Throughout most of his life, Stannis was never very sentimental about the thought of settling down. He knows that it’s expected of him and that it’s considered his duty to marry and have children. Not marrying for love doesn’t bother him. He is practical about it and sees it as an opportunity to unite houses for strategic political gain. If he and his spouse get along, all the better. If not, oh well. He just needs a functional arrangement that’ll get him an heir.

He would be very traditional in his courting process. He wouldn’t rush it or drag it out for too long. However, he would be fairly quick to begin the actual courting process. Because he views marriage practically and without sentimentality, he would begin to court you as soon as possible while you were still available once he felt that you were a suitable and beneficial match. He would be committed to you, though, even if your marriage began without love or passion. He takes his duties very seriously and wouldn’t do anything to dishonor you or your marriage.

He’d be pleasantly surprise after you got married and the two of you slowly began to develop a sense of love for each other. He never expected the marriage to work out so well. Deep down, he does get a bit more sentimental about your relationship as time passes and you come to love each other, though he wouldn’t really let it show.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Stannis is not very emotionally gentle. His words are often direct without sparing your feelings, especially at the beginning of your relationship before you two really get to know each other. However, although he’s harsh, he’s not entirely heartless. When he sees how much his words affect you, though, he makes an effort to soften his way of communication with you, particularly around sensitive topics. Both of you learn how to adapt your styles of communication to more effectively get through to each other.

Even at times when he cannot express himself through words, he tries to communicate with you through his actions. For example, if you had a hobby that you were passionate about, he’d initially scoff you, saying your hobby is inconsequential and a waste of time. He would see the hurt in your eyes as you angrily storm off. Within a few days, you would find a stack of neatly wrapped gifts on your side of the bed. They would be new objects related to your hobby, the finest quality available. If you liked reading fiction, you’d find a stack of books from your favorite genre that weren’t in your personal collection yet. If you liked painting, you’d high quality paints and brushes. If you liked sewing and embroidery, you’d find fine and expensive fabrics. As you’d go to thank him for the gifts, he’d hum in acknowledgment and softly say, “I know how important it is to you.” It’d be his own way of apologizing despite not knowing how to say the words.

Physically, Stannis is very gentle with you. He’s shy and bashful when it comes to affectionate physical touch. He’s not very confident and very unsure of himself. Stannis also wouldn’t be sure if you even wanted him to touch you, so he tried to avoid doing anything that made you uncomfortable. He’d rather let you initiate things. Also, even if he were enraged at you, Stannis wouldn’t harm you physically. He’d rather scold you and lecture you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Stannis isn’t the biggest fan of hugs, especially not in public, but he would grow to like your hugs in private. He’d be stiff and awkward at first, but eventually would begin to loosen up and allow himself to enjoy the affection. He would rarely initiate hugs except for in high emotion situations or before he’d have to leave you for an extended period of time.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take a long time for Stannis to say he loves you. He knew you didn’t marry him for love, and he didn’t expect you to love him. However, as you two grew more understanding of each other, he found himself becoming rather fond of you. He was more vulnerable with you than he had been with anyone else in his entire life, and he’d be surprised at just how much he felt comfortable revealing to you. He trusted you more than anyone else. During one of his trips apart from you, he’d find you on his mind a lot, wishing you were there by his side for your counsel and company. The tent he stayed in felt unbearably quiet without your soft voice. He began to wonder if maybe this was love. He didn’t dare say anything about it, though.

One night, you and Stannis would be bickering about some political matters in the privacy of your chambers. He felt that it would be best to make a particular political alliance with a house that you felt was unsavory and potentially dangerous, and he felt that your resistance was uncalled for as you tried to talk him out of it. You’d angrily spit out, “You’re my husband and I love you. I just want you to be safe.” Stannis would be shocked into silence for a moment, letting your words register in his mind, before muttering that he loved you too and assuring you that he wouldn’t do anything to put you or him at risk.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Deep down, Stannis feels some insecurity knowing that he’s widely not well-loved, so he’d get jealous fairly easily if he felt like you were connecting with someone else better than with him. He’d feel especially vulnerable after beginning to wonder if he were actually falling in love with you. If he felt like a conversation between you and another person was becoming too flirty, he would take whoever was talking with you aside later and tell them to stay away from his wife. Then later at night when you two were alone in your chambers, he’d remind you through gritted teeth that you were married to him and would warn you that he doesn’t tolerate dishonor or disloyalty. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

At first, his kisses would be chaste, quick pecks. As the two of you grew closer, his kisses lengthen and deepen. He would save the more passionate kissing for when you’re in bed together, only revealing the true depth of his love for you behind the safety of closed doors. When you kiss, he likes to focus on your lips and neck. Though he likes being kissed on the lips, shivers run down his spine when you kiss his jawline and nibble his ears. He breaks out in goosebumps when he feels your hot breath tickling his ear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Stannis is awkward as hell around kids. Really young children make him especially uncomfortable, and he’s not good at playing with them. He prefers children to be older when he feels like he can actually discuss matters and impart his wisdom on them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Stannis wakes up early each morning. He would like you to wake up with him so you could attend meetings with him and provide counsel. He generally wakes up before you so he gets you out of bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He typically stays up late. After dinner, he spends a few hours alone to get some work done, giving you an opportunity to have free time to pursue your own interests or hobbies. When he returns to your chambers, he’ll change into his bed clothes and the two of you will relax and continue some discussions from earlier in the day or go over what needs to be done the next day before going to bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Stannis has always been a fairly closed book. He doesn’t reveal much in general and would only do so after a certain level of trust had been built between you two. Stannis comes off as being very self-assured and stoic, but he slowly allows himself to be more vulnerable around you, revealing his insecurities and doubts. By starting to see him as a multifaceted person, you also start to fall for him. He’d be surprised at just how comfortable he felt confiding in you and how much he yearns for you to understand him. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care that he’s not well-liked by the public, but he finds himself caring whether or not you like him despite having a political marriage. He tries to be softer with you, especially when it’s the two of you alone, so that you realize he isn’t made out of stone. Him showing this much vulnerability would really help strengthen the bond between you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

When irritated or angry, Stannis tends to make sharp comments expressing his displeasure and why you’re in the wrong, but he generally maintains his composure. He isn’t quick to get into a shouting match as he feels it’s undignified.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Stannis remembers information that he feels is important, but he’s not the best at remembering every little detail. He dismisses many things as inconsequential.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory with you is the first time you said you loved him (as detailed in “I = I love you”). He had been grappling with his feelings towards you for a while, and having you express these same feelings back at him unprompted caught him off guard. It really felt like a new phase in your relationship started and that your marriage was no longer just a political marriage.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Stannis is very protective of you. He makes sure that you’re guarded at all times, especially when he’s not with you. He also wouldn’t stand for anyone disrespecting you. If he heard one of his men say something bad about you, he would have them thrown in a cell for treason.

He wouldn’t expect you to protect him, but he would be deeply flattered when you would guard his honor and the honor of the Baratheon house as it would show that you care for him and for your life together. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Stannis isn’t the most romantic or sentimental person, so he wouldn’t put much weight into things like dates or everyday romantic gestures. On a more daily basis, he would show you he loved you through acts of service and making sure you felt comfortable and had everything you needed. On birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries, he would give you very nice and thoughtful gifts.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Stannis is stubborn as hell. He is very by the book and a stickler for enforcing rules. He tends to be overly serious most times and jokes generally don’t land around him. He typically doesn’t verbally apologize, even when he knows he’s in the wrong. He’s not entirely heartless, but emotional intelligence isn’t his strong suit. Getting him to the point where he shows vulnerability around you can take a long time. If you like a lot of physical affection, you’ll probably have a hard time feeling compatible with him since he’s relatively touch averse. Even after he gets a bit more comfortable with affectionate touches from you, he probably wouldn’t return physical affection to you as often as you’d like. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He doesn’t concern himself too much with aspects of his physical appearance that he can’t control like his face or when he begins to lose his hair, but he does try to wear nice clothes and armor. Because of the position of nobility he’s in, he likes to present himself as looking put together, wealthy, and dignified.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Stannis would scoff at the idea of needing someone else to feel complete; however, deep down after he falls in love with you, he couldn’t fathom not having you by his side. No one had ever gotten to know him as deeply or intimately as you, and he feels quite attached to you. He’d feel lost without your partnership.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He’s very tense at almost all times. His fists are usually clenched or he’s grinding his teeth.

He would always be quite pleased to see you wearing his sigil or colors, showing that you’re making an effort to into his house as his wife.

He would enjoy hearing you talk shit about his brothers. It sickens Stannis that Robert and Renly are so loved by the public when he believes that they disgrace the Baratheon name by not acting in a dignified manner.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Stannis doesn’t like rebels or people who don’t play by the rules. He is irritated by people who don’t publicly conduct themselves in a dignified way or when people don’t treat serious issues with the gravity they warrant. He also can’t stand people who only try to flatter him instead of giving their honest opinions. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Stannis is a very light sleeper. He gets very little sleep as it is, so he doesn’t like his sleep being disturbed for any reason. Because of that, he doesn’t like to be touching you while he’s sleeping, and the two of you each have your own furs to sleep under instead of sharing one. He doesn’t really snore, but he does grumble quietly in his sleep.

[savage-rhi]

Sky of Atoms: Death Stranding Fanfic Ch. 6

HIGGS 3.0

“I’ll cut to the chase, I want to negotiate an offer with you. It’ll be worth hearing me out.” Higgs said, his voice just as confident as the posture he took on. It took a lot of effort on his part to not come across too domineering. Whenever Higgs wanted something, he took it. There was no need to ask for favors or to be kind about the request. Now wasn’t such a case. The years being isolated, and almost stripped entirely of his powers had put things into perspective.

Higgs could intimidate, his body memorized all the simple gestures to get the point across he wasn’t to be screwed with, but when it came to actual combat, he was sloppy. Not to mention pretty weak at times if the right kind of fighter read him like a book. Higgs didn’t want Gene to be spooked by him, but neither did he want her to believe for a second she could walk over him. He had to perform a balancing act both mentally and physically, and behind the facade of confidence, he was nervous.

“I can see your mind is already trying to figure out how to get out of here, but I kindly ask you to give me five minutes tops.” Higgs said as he held up his hand displaying his five fingers for emphasis, tilting his head some as he could feel more water droplets from his shower a half hour ago begin to drip down the strands of his hair.

“Play your cards right, I might let you have a slice.” He said, leaning down behind the doorway to pick up the pizza box cargo Gene had delivered. He grinned briefly, for a moment forgetting about what he intended on talking about as his stomach and mind became fixated on eating. Higgs had been waiting for this day for a long time, and he needed to sate his hunger.

“No thanks, it's your delivery.” Gene said, her tone indicating she was trying to figure out what Higgs’s angle was.

“But it’s your favorite, right? You got me the kind of pizza you would eat. That was my request. I figured you’d want some after carrying it miles and miles out to the middle of nowhere.” Higgs said and shrugged giving a callous laugh. Oh well be a bitch, more for me. He thought to himself briefly then stepped out. He walked past Gene and looked outside the shelter that surrounded the terminal and entryway to his humble abode. His eyes glanced around at the sky, as the smell began to hit him. Rain was coming. He had been here for so long he memorized the weather patterns and up in the mountain area it was going to be rough.

“Was your plan to bait me into talking shop with you the whole time or did you really want pizza?” Gene asked accusingly as Higgs shrugged and gave a chuckle.

“Maybe. Maybe a little bit of both. You’ll never know.” He turned and winked at her.

“You were saying something about an offer, Higgs?” Gene asked, sounding irritable and ignoring his tease. Higgs took a step back and then turned towards her, the cargo box holding the pizza close to him.

“Yeah, why don’t you step into my office.” He said as he walked ahead of Gene, going towards the security door that lead into his dwelling. Higgs stopped when he didn’t pick up on her following behind and turned around. Gene was cautious, yet her gaze seemed to convey the assumption that Higgs was full of shit for thinking she’d blindly go into a strangers domain. He couldn’t blame her.

“I need to hit the road. If you want to talk business or whatever, we can do it out here.” Gene stood her ground and Higgs had to hand it to her, she was a no bullshit type of person; a trait he admired in the very few.

“I like your spunk and I honestly don’t want you anywhere near my shit, but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” He then pointed up towards the ceiling of the terminal port as Gene stepped out from underneath it and looked at the sky. It was becoming more grey by the minute, and Higgs didn’t need to see it for himself. Her expression conveyed all he needed to know. Gene knew as well as Higgs that the storm coming was going to ravage the route of her trip. She maybe had three hours tops to get down through the mountain pass, but that was if Gene got a running start. Higgs could see she was carrying a large package on her back, and while she wasn’t looking, he shook his head. Good luck with that. Higgs thought to himself. Any porter with that kind of luggage, save for the likes of someone like Sam Bridges, would be screwed trying to get through a powerful storm like the one coming. Higgs could already feel the wind began to pick up in power, the whisking sounds conveying it was gaining strength.

“Can stay out here like a dog in a doghouse for all I care, but I don’t think you should be going out on your lonesome anytime soon chicky.” Higgs, feeling the pain of hunger begin to hit, made his way back inside. At this point he didn’t care if Gene was going to hear him out or not much less if she was going to stick around. He was just happy having one of his favorite meals again.

“God damn it,” Higgs could hear Gene mutter to herself in a harsh whisper and he smiled upon hearing her footsteps trailing behind. Hook, line and sinker.

“Watch your step--” Higgs tried to forewarn before Gene yelped aloud. Her hands clambering at her forehead after knocking herself into the low ceiling. There was a steep drop into Higgs’s domain courtesy of the prepper nutjob that used to live here, and as Higgs turned around to assess the damage Gene took, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was amusing seeing someone else besides him getting canned in the face for a change.

Gene looked up and glared at Higgs. He was quick to throw his hands up in surrender, along with the cargo box he carried. “My bad. You’re the first company I’ve had in a long time. I haven’t seen such golden comedy in ages.”

“Can you fuck off?” Gene asked, rubbing her forehead as she hissed, rubbing at a healing cut above her eyebrow which Higgs took notice of right away. It was started to bleed, the ceiling having torn off a scab that formed. He wasn’t sure if Gene took notice of the trail of blood making its way down her face.

“I like your offer, but that’s not my kind of thing.” Higgs sat the pizza down, going over to a small cabinet of sorts and began rummaging around some stuff. While Higgs searched around for some medicine for Gene to put on her cut, he glanced occasionally out of the corner of his eye at her, watching Gene’s every move. She appeared observant of his decorum, glancing at a wall with notes and a trove of scrap work he had worked on and off for months.

“Did you make all the Egyptian stuff outside?” Gene asked as Higgs was taken aback from the question before he found the capsule he had been seeking. He got up and tossed the little pill towards Gene, which she caught fast, having become aware finally that her wound had opened up as she cracked the pill open and began to smear an antibiotic gel over it.

“I’m amazed you even know what that is.” Higgs said impressed, crossing his arms for a brief moment as he watched Gene apply the last bit of gel to the wound.

“I may be a porter, but I’m not that dumb.” Gene said in her defense.

“You could have fooled me. After taking the hit coming into my house I question if your intelligence is a little--” he gestured his hand, rolling it like a wave off sync. “Muddled.”

“Did you invite me in here just to insult me or are we going to talk about this arrangement of yours? I’m getting tired of the insults. Maybe that’s why no one has sent you a Christmas card. You act like a dick.”

Higgs’s smile seemed to bloom at how enraged Gene was getting. He was having fun. “I know I’m a dick. I own it. You should own up to your faults too, chickadee. It puts things into perspective. Wouldn’t you agree that having that kind of awareness is worthwhile?”

Gene shrugged, glaring towards him. “It doesn’t help to have that kind of awareness and not change your shit persona.”

“Touche’.” Higgs said with a laugh. As much as he was enjoying toying around with Gene, he was dying to get his mouth around a slice of pizza. He was speedy opening up the cargo box. The aroma hit his nose and he let out a sigh of relief as if he were breathing for the first time in his life. His cool eyes scanned over the deep dish, looking at the toppings. Higgs’s eyebrow quirked at one topping in particular he wasn’t expecting. He picked up the piece of pineapple, inspecting it like a detective. He could see from the corner of his eye that Gene was watching him with confusion before he huffed, lifting his hand with the pineapple piece at her.

“That’s adorable.” He said before tossing the fruit into his mouth and chewed slowly. He purposefully left his remark ambiguous so Gene couldn’t tell if he was pleased, or a little disappointed in the choice. Higgs ate all the pineapple pieces off first, avoiding all the meaty bits and peppers before he truly dug in. To say he ravaged a good quarter of the pizza was an understatement, groaning on the occasion in pleasure as the flavors hit his mouth and the sweet spots of his tongue. Higgs was in heaven. So much to the point where he didn’t notice Gene had been standing the entire time observing him awkwardly for nearly two minutes straight. Once he picked up on it, he slurped a long strand of cheese into his mouth and got up.

“Where my manners at?” He said aloud, looking for something to offer Gene to sit upon. Higgs settled for a beanbag chair he confiscated from a MULE’s base ages ago. There were small tears in it, but it would have to make due. Higgs didn’t exactly design his home to cater to anyone but himself. He watched as Gene slowly took a seat, sinking a bit into the material. Higgs couldn’t help but snort at how awkward she looked while he went back to eating.

“You gonna drink the alcohol I got for you?” Gene asked, gesturing towards the canister cargo near the front of the entrance. Higgs shook his head, swallowing another bite of pizza.

“Nah, I’m good for now. I plan on saving it for later. Thank you kindly for the pizza. Well worth it, though I’m more of a classic guy myself when it comes to flavors. I like to keep things simple.” That was probably the first time Higgs had been sincere in a long while. He was truly thankful for the delivery, and he tried making an effort in his tone to convey that to Gene as much as he enjoyed picking on the poor gal.

“No worries,” Gene said and Higgs could have sworn she sounded appeased with him. “Do you want to keep stuffing your face or do you want to talk now?”

Higgs was surprised Gene didn’t sound as antagonistic just now. Adjusting in the seat after he put the cargo box down with the remaining slices, he let out a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s chit chat. You’re the first porter I’ve encountered in a long time. Hell, this is the first delivery I’ve gotten in three years, though I’m sure given your job position you met many people with that same circumstance.”

Gene nodded as Higgs pressed on. “I’ll admit, you got me good with your little speech before about everyone needing help. Lord knows I too am at fault for needing service. I like keeping to myself cause’ it makes things easier to deal with, but I have good vibes about you. You seem to know when to keep your mouth shut and when to not let your employers know about under the table gigs. My offer is simple: supply me with stuff such as pizza and the occasional basic necessity every month, and I’ll make it worth your while. I got all sorts of neat little goodies from prowling around these parts. Items that could make you filthy rich if you sell to the right colonists outside the UCA. What do you say to that temptation?”

Higgs watched as the gears in Gene’s head began to turn. She seemed stumped. Higgs assumed she didn’t expect him to sound as eloquent just now, that it had taken her aback. He was quite proud of himself as he allowed his lips to form a smile, head tilting some in thought as he waited for an answer.

“I  barely got away with getting you this delivery. If this is going to be a monthly occurrence, Brisk HARPY’s computer system is going to pick up on it and then we’re both in trouble. You get outed and I may be out of a job.” Gene explained as Higgs sighed sadly, shaking his head.

“And here I thought you had balls. My mistake.” He said in a taunting tone, throwing up his hands briefly to mock Gene further as she quickly interjected.

“Look, it’s not that I wouldn’t do it.” Gene started, piquing Higgs’s interest as he leaned forward in his chair and met the porters gaze. “You’ve been a loner for a long time, and I reckon at one point in life you had the same job as me. You couldn’t even begin to understand how much the systems have changed. It’s not as easy keeping stuff off the books. Quality control tally shit up five times over since Homo Demens have caused massive exoduses. There’s too many people in certain communities, and not enough to go around to support everybody. Security is tight.”

“Understandable, as it should be.” Higgs said sympathetically. “I figured you were smart enough though to bypass some things. You managed to pull it off with this request, did you not?”

Gene hesitated before nodding, Higgs in turn mimicking her movement before he spoke further. “I’m sure with the right motivation, I can get you to do it again for me. With the things I got, if god forbid, you got your hand caught in the cookie jar by Brisk HARPY, you’d be set credit wise. That’s something I would never lie about.”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing a liar would say.” Gene countered and Higgs laughed so hard he almost felt a muscle in his side spasm.

“Now, why would I go through the trouble of lying to you? I’ve been blunt if I do say so myself. Look I’m not the type to bend over backwards for just anyone. You’re a special case.”

Gene raised a brow at him, her gaze weary as Higgs could pick up on it even with the dim lighting in his home. “You sound as if you were someone ‘special’ at one point.”

“Oh honey,” Higgs chuckled in a low drawl. “You have no idea.”

Higgs allowed the small talk to die down, allowing Gene some time to digest his offer in full. He went back to eating the rest of the pizza in the meantime while waiting for her to rack out the details in her head. Higgs was unsure if she was going to go for the offer. Hell, he wouldn’t blame her for turning it down. From a porter's perspective, it was risky to a fault. Even after all these years, he could understand the mentality of saving your own ass especially when working for a company. Higgs still hoped in the subconsciousness of his mind however, that she’d say yes.

Higgs wouldn’t ever be caught with his pants down, but he didn’t just want a little parakeet to come around every so often with goods when he felt like being lazy looking for supplies out in the field. He missed having someone to talk too, even if all he did was insult and backhand. That was something Higg’s cursed Gene for many times since their first encounter. He realized how much he missed interacting with another, despite loving his hermit life he made for himself. Higgs settled for being touch starved for the rest of his life, not really yearning for it because of his daddy’s abuse, but not talking to anyone for the rest of his sorry existence was a scary concept he slowly began to contend with. Even though at one point Higgs considered himself a god, he was only human after all. Higgs made peace with tolerating Gene just to satisfy that primal need.

“I’ll take the deal, if you can answer a question for me.” Gene finally piped up as Higgs could feel pride burning in his chest. It made him euphoric knowing he was getting what he wanted. For once, he didn’t have to use violence to get it across. Who would have thought simple banter would do wonders?

“Shoot sweetheart.” Higgs said.

“How did you know David, the Homo Demens member you killed?”

Higgs had already rehearsed a similar scenario in his mind in case the plan with Gene had backfired or if she got too prying. He was more than ready to give his white lie. “Once upon a time I was porter, much like you and I did some bad things under the table for money. David was just one of those clients. He paid me a lot, and I kept my mouth shut. Eventually I got along well with the group and did all sorts of smuggling. That’s the gist. I was desperate at the time.”

“Why did you quit the delivery life?”

Higgs chuckled and waved a finger at her, like a parent dismissing the remark of their rude child. “That’s a bedtime story for another day I’m afraid. May I ask why you decided to become a UCA boy scout?” He asked, mocking the fact she was a porter. Nonetheless despite Gene looking less than amused at his tone, she answered truthfully.

“It was the only thing I was good at. I never really amounted to anything.”

“Can’t be true,” Higgs interrupted. “At least from where I’m standing.”

He could have sworn Gene was blushing from his compliment, but given the lighting in the facility, he wasn’t sure. Nor did he want to linger on that thought.

“My parents were both scientists, botanists. They had a kid who could never compare intelligence wise so I did the next best thing. I’m good with my hands and my body. Being a porter was a calling. It seemed like a no brainer.”

“Your mama and daddy still around?”

“They died, a long time ago.”

“My condolences.” Higgs could feel some sort of tension in the room and glanced to the side, deciding to concentrate on the package Gene had been carrying on her back now lying towards the back wall of the small living space. It didn’t take Gene long to take notice, which Higgs intended.

“So uh, what kind of delivery are you making with that thing?” Higgs asked curiously as Gene herself turned and looked at the cargo container.

“I actually have no clue. It’s UCA top priority though.”

“I take it you’re a good little boy scout and won’t dare to open it?” Higgs challenged mockingly as Gene cast a firm glare upon him. Her gaze was territorial to say the least.

“Not on your life.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to let the bad bitch out of the box. I’m just playin’ you.” Higgs said, waving his hands playfully. As if she could really hurt me. He thought to himself and shook his head. He was growing tired by the minute.

Prior to Gene making the delivery, Higgs had gotten back from a six hour trip trying to find some power cells to keep his humble abode afloat. It wasn’t easy, living in an old preppers bunker lodge. Even when he was living with his daddy long ago as a child, Higgs could recall how difficult it was to keep the electricity running. His daddy having to leave for days at a time to get enough resources to keep the home going, despite telling Higgs up and down that the outside world was no place to go. Thinking of the hypocrisy made Higgs glare, and he unintentionally was doing so towards Gene.

“Did I do something?” Gene asked defensively before Higgs grunted and shook his head.

“No, was’ just thinking about something. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence filled the room, cutting the atmosphere in half. Higgs wasn’t feeling too comfortable being around Gene’s presence. He cleared his throat, giving a yawn as he stretched his arms and got up walking towards a corridor that lead to his room. He pressed his ear to the wall, listening for the storm coming in. Gene could faintly hear the howls too as Higgs observed her head trying to follow where the sound was coming from. He took his head off the wall and gestured.

“There’s a hammock you can set up here in the back corner. Bathroom is down across my room. If you’re brave enough to take a shower, I gotta warn you the water is colder than the fingertips of death.”

“That coming from personal experience?” Gene asked, legitimately curious but also joking. Higgs saw her attempts to diffuse whatever tension there was in the living space and laughed. His demeanor changed with a flip of a switch as he furrowed his brows into a glare, gesturing at the back end of his living space where some of his Egyptian sculptures lay by the entrance.

“You can see yourself out in the morning. Don’t hit your head on the way out.”

Higgs made his way to the room so quickly that he had no time to see that Gene was confused by his statement. Like he pulled the welcome carpet from out underneath her feet with how he sounded towards the tail end of his sentence.

The automatic door closed behind Higgs as he collapsed into bed, pulling off his boots lazily along with his shirt leaving himself in his pants as he lay flat on his back and looked at the ceiling. He took in deep shallow breaths, his body beginning the convulsions. Another DOOM’s withdrawal was knocking at his door. Much like what was happening outside, it was the calm before the storm. Higgs swallowed, feeling the pain slowly rise up into his chest. Tears spilled down his eyes as he shut them, trying to force his mind to sleep through it all.

Tagging: 

@kusooi​

[mistresspierce]

A Lesson in Grace and Decorum / Stelexis Scene Week

WHO: Stella Pierce and Alexis St James @alittlebit-switchlexis

SUMMARY: Stella plays teacher and punishes Alexis for acting out in her classes ( Dom 101/ Switch 101 )

Stella had arranged to use an empty classroom for her and Alexis for their scene. She believed that things should be done properly or not at all. Having set up flowers and a ‘Miss Pierce’ name plate on her desk she felt satisfied with the whole thing. Taking a seat behind the desk she waited for Alexis to arrive so that they could go over her limits.

In an outfit that was the perfect choice for "naughty school girl", Alexis headed over to the classroom Stella had arranged them to meet, admiring the attention to detail the Domme took in the set up, as she entered the room with a knock. "Hello, Miss Pierce." She greeted, standing at the doorway, waiting for further instructions on what to do.

Stella nodded her head in greeting to the brunette as she walked in, trying not to eye the outfit with too much enthusiasm. “Come in and take a seat in front of me Miss St James. And before I go over the concerns that have been brought to me by some of your other teachers, I’d like to just hear your safeword and limits.” Alexis sashayed into the classroom, throwing herself into the chair closest to the teacher's desk, making sure to slouch and cross her arms, legs spread to reveal that she wasn't wearing any underwear under her short skirt. She decided that her school-girl character was clearly a troublemaker tease who needed to learn a thing or two about respect, and if you're not going to fully lean into a scene, what was the point? "My safeword is the stop-light system, and my limits are watersports, scat, mutilation, and blood, Miss." She told her, sitting up straighter to indicate she broke character for a second to go over this information, before slouching back down, eyebrows raised, "As for the concerns of the other teachers, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm a fucking delight to have in class." Stellas eyes flicked down the brunettes legs, following the form of her body in the skirt. She nodded at the girls limits before returning to the stern look that she had been using before. “Perhaps there would be less complaints from other members of staff if you didn’t use foul language like that Miss St James. There have also been complaints of you missing lessons entirely, as well as distracting other students with your clear uniform violations.” Stella told her, standing up to come around the front of the desk. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Alexis rolled her eyes at the complaints her student character had received. "Well, Miss, maybe the other teachers shouldn't be so uptight, you know? It's just a word." She defended herself, "and I have more important places to be than class anyway." At the uniform comment, she smirked, spreading her legs even more. "Well, no one's seemed distracted to me. Are you distracted, Miss?" She asked with a wink, moving one of her hands down to rub her inner thigh suggestvely. “You are a representative of this school Miss St James and the rules clearly say that we do not tolerate this kind of behaviour.” Stella snapped, putting a hand on the desk. “There is nowhere more important than your classes if you expect to have any kind of a future outside of these four walls.” The blonde insisted, raising her eyebrow as the girl spread her thighs. “I am not distracted by anything other than your appalling posture.” Alexis smirked and resisted rolling her eyes at Stella's lecture, not once stopping her hand from heading towards her sex, making sure to not break eye contact from her. "Well Miss, maybe I've been the one distracted by such a sexy teacher. How am I supposed to focus for my future if I spend all my time between these four walls wanting to be inbetween your legs?" She asked as nonchalantly as she could, face breaking into a smirk. "Maybe you should help me fix my posture then, since it appals you so much." Stella couldn’t help but glance towards Alexis’ hand despite trying to keep her focus on her face. “You continue to be highly inappropriate Miss St James, and I won’t tolerate it in my classroom.” The blonde told the switch haughtily, standing up she came over to the girl and put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her back straightening her up. “There will be no slouching on my watch.” Alexis had a shit-eating grin on her face as Stella snapped, and began correcting her posture, letting out an exaggerated gasp at the feeling of the Domme's firm hands on her back and shoulder. "I love it when you manhandle me, Miss," She said, her tone breathy, hoping that would stern her superior on. "Maybe that's what I need to help me be a good girl, instead of a naughty brat." “Oh I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget Miss St James.” Stella told the other girl. “Bend over my desk, now. Before I send you to the principals office for your repugnant language and bad attitude.” The blonde ordered, moving back over to her desk to grab a ruler. Alexis smirked as she stood, sashaying over to the desk, looking back at Stella and shooting her a wink. She then slowly bent herself over the desk, thanking the stars for the flexibility and stamina cheerleading gave her over the years, managing to press her chest and the palm of her hands flat against the wood, spreading her legs in a manner that would only hitch the short skirt up further, revealing more to her so-called teacher. “Ready to punish me, Miss?” She purred, glancing over her shoulder to shoot a wink at Stella. Stella couldn’t help but admire the switches ass as she walked over to the desk, even though she knew she should be focused on making the brunette very  sorry for her behaviour. “I am ready, though I do hope that you know this isn’t for your pleasure Miss St James.” Stella threatened, as she picked up her ruler and struck it against her hand. “Count the strokes. We’ll go to ten and see how the message is sinking in.” The blonde Domme told her, and then swung the ruler. “Whatever you say Miss.” Alexis replied in a cocky tone, before turning back round, staring intently at her hands. She wasn’t ready for the blow to come, the gasp that left her being one of pain as equally as pleasure. “One, Miss.” She was glad that Stella wasn’t holding back, and if her past experiences with impact play had taught her anything, it was that the first one was usually the most gentle, and she could already feel the wetness against her thighs in anticipation for the other nine strokes. “You’ll regret that little challenge St James.” Stella promised, while she wasn’t particularly keen on submissives who acted out for no reason. There was definitely something appealing about Alexis’ particular brand of fire. Stella nodded to herself when Alexis counted off the first stroke, and continued in the same vein. Using precise, hard strokes with the ruler, she was well versed in impact play and avoiding any spots that might leave a submissive with unpleasant long lasting damage. It was clear by the fifth stroke just how experienced Stella was with the ruler, and she found herself both wanting and in fear of the next blow to her sensitive skin. Any bite she had had had faded quick, and her counting aloud had turned from over-confident announcements to meek murmurs. She had definitely learnt her lesson, that was for sure. Stella listened carefully to the girl counting, just in case it seemed that she was becoming overwhelmed. While Stella was more than well versed in impact play she had already experienced two submissives who weren’t at this school. Alexis seemed fine, and so Stella finished the set and then leaned back. “Ready to apologise for your behaviour Miss St James.” Alexis looked over her shoulder after wiping a tear away. The scene wasn't any more painful than what she was used to, but it definitely took her by surprise and she was a mess over it both deliciously hurting her, and arousing her. "I am, Miss." She told Stella, with a solemn nod. "I am very sorry for my actions in class, and the way I've talked to you today." The sadist in Stella relished seeing tears for her efforts and she laid down the ruler. “I’m glad you’ve seen the error of your ways Miss St James, now I think it’s time you make it up to me another way.” Stella said smoothly, rolling up her pencil skirt. “You’ve made me very frustrated.” Alexis slowly lifted herself up from her desk, smirking when she saw Stella lift up her skirt. “Of course, Miss.” She said, slowly getting on her knees in front of the Domme, licking her lips in anticipation. She started off with gentle kisses to her inner thighs, occasional sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, making her way up the other girl’s cunt, looking up at Stella for permission to keep going. Stella smirked as Alexis got down on her knees, allowing herself to relax under the switches ministrations. She’d been dominating a lot but she hadn’t actually just enjoyed pleasure for a while. “Go on.” She instructed as the switch looked at her for permission. Not hesitating anymore after she was given permission, Alexis dove right in, her mouth making contact with Stella’s cunt. She moaned against her, tongue slowly exploring the woman’s sex, gauging how she reacted to the feeling of Alexis’ tongue on her pussy. After sucking on her clit, Alexis stopped and shifted, her own wetness in between her thighs prevalent. “Miss, please can I touch myself whilst I eat you out?” She asked her, looking up at her, biting her lip. “Please? I’ll promise I’ll never misbehave again.” Stella let herself grind against Alexis’ mouth, giving herself over to the sensations. As the switch sucked on her clit the, taller girl began to feel the rising coil in her stomach. Usually the blonde would have denied the girl on her knees,  but there was something about the idea of Alexis touching her on her knees that was so hot. “You may St James, but you remember who allowed you your pleasure and make sure you thank me when you cum.” Alexis let out a moan of appreciation as she reached down to rub her own clit, moaning at how wet she was from the spanks that Stella gave her. “Don’t worry, Miss. I will.” She promised, her voice hitching slightly. Her mouth went back to the Domme’s cunt, her tongue moving in rhythm with her own fingers, both of the girls getting off from the exact same pace. Stella ignored the switch as she ground down on her face and made she got her pleasure exactly how she wanted it, her hand reaching up to grab at her own breast as she got closer to her own orgasm. As the tightening in her stomach reached it's pique the Domme tugged at the girls hair and moaned as she came onto Alexis face. It was good timing that Stella's impending orgasm came not long after she began pulling at Alexis' hair -- it being a major turn-on for the Switch -- and as she helped the blonde Domme ride through her own orgasm, she worked harder on herself, feeling her belly tighten, pushing herself over the edge. She moaned as she came, not long after the Domme, before looking up, breathing hard -- sweaty, but satiated. "Thank you Miss for my pleasure." She told the Domme, just as she promised. Stella sat breathing hard against the desk as she waited for the switch to catch up to her, when the brunette thanked her she slipped off the desk and tugged down her skirt a little. "You've done very well today Alexis, you've been an exceedingly good girl." Stella told the switch. "Let's get you some cream for that ass of yours."

[eremiss]

26. Slosh

References “For Those We Have Lost” Dragonsong MSQ, specifically with a flashback to the WoL getting drugged and passing out in Falcon’s Nest 

Gwen wraps both hands around her mug, soaking up the warmth of it and breathing tendrils of steam that smell of mulling spices. She sloshes the mulled wine around rather than taking a drink, watching the dark surface shift, ripple and smooth out.

Thancred sits quietly beside her, on her left where she wouldn’t be in his blind spot, nursing his own drink. He has something of a flat, tired look about him, but he doesn’t seem quite so surly as she expected. His mood has been doing odd things since the Conference but, given everything that came before, Gwen has been doing her best to let it all roll off and not pass judgment. She’s been fairly out-of-sorts herself since then, too.

They haven't spoken beyond when she’d asked to sit, as he’d already been there for… She doesn’t actually know how long, and decides it’s not worth thinking about. He’s a grown man, after all, and he seems to barely even be tipsy, let alone in his cups. The air between them isn’t quite tense, but it’s not the same as the companionable silence they used to share.

Gwen considers her wine and finds she...doesn’t want to drink it. She’s not sure why, especially when she’d felt just the opposite when she’d ordered it a couple minutes ago. It’s her drink of choice at the Knight because she likes Gibrillont’s mix of mulling spices, not to mention she could use the warmth after her walk through the blustery snowfall outside. 

But the moment he set the mug in front of her she found she realized she didn’t have a taste for it. She has yet to drink any of it, merely warming her hands while she thinks.

“So,” Thancred says, rather too blandly to be conversational, “you’re for Ishgard in the Melee.”

Gwen tilts her head in confirmation. “Truthfully, I did feel a bit on-the-spot in the moment,” she admits. “But after everything House Fortemps did for Alphinaud, Tataru and I,” she pauses to navigate carefully around thoughts of Haurchefant, no longer shrouded in stifling grief but still fragile and tender, aching to the touch, “it’s the least I could do.”

Besides, the Melee is supposed to be about teamwork, a joint effort and act of camaraderie between the city states and Ishgard. If she’s going to participate, she has to fight alongside someone. Seeing how she’s not part of a Grand Company, why shouldn’t she side with Ishgard?

The memory of agreeing (under duress, in her opinion) to join the Twin Adders only to then pay a sheepish visit to the Adder’s Nest most of a moon later and withdraw from the Company still makes her cringe and shift uncomfortably in her seat. Kan-E-Senna and Grand Serpent Marshal Brookstone hadn’t exactly been enthused with her change of heart, of course, but they hadn’t begrudged her withdrawal overmuch. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the Adders, though, and she still received the occasional side-eye and frown.

Thancred hums a neutral sound and drums his fingers on his mug, looking over at her. As if reading her mind, he says, “I suppose it wouldn’t do to put you out there by yourself as your own, unaffiliated faction. Even though that’s the only way this could be remotely fair.”

The smell of mulled wine under her nose is beginning to grow a bit stifling. “That’s the only way?”

“Or they could tie your hands behind your back,” he offers.

She snorts, leaning her elbows on the bar and shifting her mug around in her hands like it will do something.

“Speaking of,” he says, wry and teasing, “Ser Aymeric was certainly pleased with your decision, wasn’t he?”

Gwen shakes her head and makes an exasperated sound under her breath, feeling her cheeks redden. She can’t say she’s not a little fond of Aymeric --he’s a good man, determined, smart, compassionate, and possessed of a good heart-- but when it comes down to it, she considers him one of her dearest friends and nothing more.

Eventually she’s probably going to have to tell him that, instead of carrying on and pretending not to notice the little signs and slips of decorum that betray his feelings.

But she can worry about all that some other time, preferably when she isn’t actively being teased about it. 

Gwen tilts her head back and shoots Thancred a look. “Be nice.”

Thancred snorts, looking smugly satisfied as he finishes off his drink and signals for another.

She lifts her mug but doesn’t drink, instead holding it near her face and taking another breath of steam. The aroma of mulling spices and red wine still doesn’t smell half as enticing as it normally does, growing less appealing the longer she breathes it in.

It feels odd to just hold it like she is, but she simply doesn’t want to drink. She can’t convince herself to take a sip even to check the temperature. Why, though? Where did this come from? Since when has she had to convince herself to take so much as a sip of a drink she ordered?

Thancred makes a curious sound beside her, and when she looks up she finds him regarding her with a look that’s a little too focused and intense to be simple curiosity, a certain shrewd glint in his eye. She’s not entirely sure what to make of it, but it makes her uncomfortably aware of herself, from her clothes to the windburn on her cheeks to the way she’s sitting.

He reaches for her drink, “Give it here,” and plucks it from her hands.

Gwen pouts at him. “I could have handed it to you.”

Thancred ignores her, peering clinically at her wine. He tilts the cup to one side and then the other, studying the way the liquid moves, then gives it an unsubtle sniff.

She’s not sure what to make of all that, either, and suddenly feels the need to defend the fact she hasn’t taken so much as a sip. “I wanted to warm my hands while it cooled a little.”

Thancred spares her a flat, disbelieving look and holds her gaze as her pout slides into a frown. She folds her arms defensively and slouches in her seat, not appreciating the sudden, wordless scrutiny.

He maintains eye contact as he lifts the mug to his lips.

Her heart does an odd little misstep that has her back tensing up and goosebumps racing up her arms. She suddenly can’t hear the clamor of the bar, all of her attention on him and her drink.

The urge to smack the mug out of his hands kicks at her so sharply it makes hands twitch.

Her frown shifts a little, her brows pushing closer together. What? What was that?

Thancred doesn’t look the least bit surprised by her reaction. He’s not deterred by it either, hesitating only long enough for her to notice it herself and lock eyes again before taking a long drink.

Her heart does another misstep, unease leaning on her senses. Stop him, some small instinct hisses at her. 

He studies that reaction, too, once again completely unphased. He finally tears his gaze from hers to look down at the wine, sitting in silence and watching it like he thinks it might do something.

Gwen realizes she’s holding her breath, the tension in her back now spread all the way to her fingers and toes. She makes herself take a slow, controlled breath. It doesn’t help her relax.

After a full minute Thancred looks satisfied, partially with himself and partially with... she’s not sure what. He hands her mug back, “It’s fine,” and turns back to his drink like he hadn’t just pretended to be a sommelier for no reason.

“Fine?” Gwen echoes, baffled. She didn’t ask for his opinion, and it’s not like he’s never had the Knight’s wine before.

“To drink,” he says, like that’s a full explanation.

She opens her mouth but her words get lost beneath a memory that bursts to the front of her mind.

The taste of wine, mulling spices and...something else?

Her head throbbing suddenly, her vision pulsing and starting warp and darken. Her limbs turning to lead, too heavy to move.

The world wobbling, listing to one side, and then pain cracking through her head when she hits a stone floor.

Gwen stares at her mug, her mind suddenly a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts that crash into one another and tangle together until they’ve all formed one big knot.

How could she have... She didn’t forget, she just didn’t think... Mulled wine is her usual drink at the Forgotten Knight, and it didn’t even occur to her that she might... It was just the one time-- except for the Sultana...

Thancred saw she wasn’t drinking and immediately knew why, even when she hadn’t. So he’d tested her wine without her even asking.

The Conference is a few days gone now, but that memory is still plenty fresh and more than a little unsettling. Though, apparently, not so fresh that she hasn’t already begun to bury and repress it.

“Care to trade?”

Gwen looks up. Thancred is offering his mug, something like understanding tugging at the edges of his neutral expression. She doesn’t know what he’s drinking, but it must not be wine.

“I…” That knot between her ears twists and tightens, frustration and indignation suddenly pulling at it in all directions. 

Is she really going to let this get to her so badly?

She frowns down at her cup, jaw set stubbornly. Unsettling and serious as it may have been, is she really going to allow it to control her like this? Is she going to-- to live in fear of all wine, or all drinks, forever? No. Fear doesn’t run her life, she reminds herself. She can’t let it control her, even-- especially for something so small as wine.

The smell of mulling spices makes her stomach crawl and her throat tighten, and she can’t convince her arm to move.

She’s struggled before, and failed, too, but she’s never let it stop her. She couldn’t, but she wouldn’t allow it either. The trials and tribulations of the world don’t get to control her or stand in her way. She can do that now, too. 

Staring at her reflection in the liquid, she begins to find something familiar in this fresh burst of determination. It calls to mind other things, different in scope and size but similar in shape, that had inspired similar feelings before: hurdles, stumbling blocks and struggles she’d endured and pushed though in the past, particularly this last year, that, well... 

While she’d drummed up this same conviction to overcome in the moment, once that moment had passed and the weight and complexity began to settle out she’d indulged in distractions --important ones, granted-- and allowed them to fall by the wayside. Excuses and promises to write about it and sort it out later fell short more often than not, skirting the edges rather than diving into the thick of it.  

The flare of stubborn determination in her chest shrinks somewhat, tempered with patience. 

Mental hurts need tending just as physical ones do, but she hasn’t been so good at doing that recently. To be fair, things have been rather hectic since...she can scarcely recall when they weren’t, actually. So many things have been happening so fast, and... 

The more the thought comes together, the more she realizes it’s shaped like an excuse. Yes, she’s been busy, yes, things have been hectic, but that just makes it all the more important she keep herself in order and work out small knots and tangles before they become real problems.

She’s collected quite a few things that need straightening out, and most of them are rather more important than her taste for wine. But wine is small and simple enough that perhaps it would be a good place to start. 

...Except she knows how her mind works, and she knows that starting on one thing will cause the others to come tumbling forward after it, whether she wants them to or not. Not so violently as a rock slide or avalanche, but similarly as inevitable and unavoidable. She also knows a fair amount of those things aren’t half so small and simple, and they’ll will need time and patience to really work out. 

A raucous, crowded bar isn’t exactly the place for careful introspection and the patient regard of heavy things, is it? Nor is that sort of reflection and work she should dive into on a whim, at least not without taking some time to gather herself and get in the proper headspace.

More prudently, the Conference is perhaps a bit too fresh to be poking at just yet. Pushing too hard on a sore spot is as liable to do more harm as build a resistance to the pain. She can let wine and the Conference scab over a bit more while she works out all the splintered, jagged things she’s let gather and lurk beneath her thoughts.

Much as this has the makings of another excuse, she determinedly vows to hold to it. She will. Besides, she does need privacy and her journal, or at least something to write on, to dig through her mind and sort her thoughts, otherwise she’ll just stew in it all and not get anywhere.

But not right here, right now, with Thancred waiting and watching and the tavern bustling with patrons.

Gwen finally pulls her eyes from her murky reflection in her mug. She doesn’t say yes, but the mildly guilty look on her face and the disappointed twist of her mouth are answer enough.

They swap mugs.

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

*puff* *wheez* AT THE DEADLINE AGAIN. FUCK.

This one was really hard @_@ but I like how it came out!

Ending was the most difficult, but I like how it came out.

[inklingleesquidly]

The Wonderful Splatwoon: Eilogue

The final chapter of the series. I said to myself that I would make it when The Wonderful 101 received a representative in Super Smash Bros or got a modern remaster.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/platinumgames/the-wonderful-101-remastered?ref=checkout_rewards_page

I’m so excited about this, I pledged to the Wonderful Art tier! Please do feel free to pledge as well, or buy the game when they release it; you won’t regret enjoying one of my favorite action games of all time! And thank you for enjoying the Squidlys time as super heroes! Hope to do more with them in the future 

Lee and Janine star as Wonder Inkling, the ink-tastic mom and son duo charged with defending Inkopolis from a mysterious alien invasion. Using ancient technology containing the heroic souls and power of over 100 wonderful heroes, this super powered duo saves the day! 

Word Count: 1,324 words

After a period of unrest and attacks on the bustling megalopolis of Inkopolis, its citizenry strived to return to normalcy. A picture of what the city hoped to be lied in the Finjuku district. There, at the Seaside Hill High private academy, students had their lessons as they always did.  

Breaking away from the mundanity of being in a stuffy Biology lab, a class was taking place in an outdoor pavilion on the schoolgrounds. The instructor energetically proceeded through his presentation. “--And if you’ll watch carefully, you’ll see the interesting reaction this alga has to this airborne chemical mixture.”

SHEEEOOOOOO—KABOOM!

An ear-piercing whine sliced through the air, followed by an earth rattling explosion miles-off in the distance. Those who managed to recover from the scare of the blast could look up to see the sky being peppered by mysterious midair machinery. The aliens were attacking!

Panic and chaotic confusion immediately set in between students and teachers alike. The more rational educators rushed into action, herding everyone into the school’s main building. In the time since the alien’s arrival, many facilities in the city had received several structural reinforcements to make them safe sanctuaries. Seaside Hill High had been designated one of those safe zones.

The teacher heading the Biology class held one of the armored steel doors open as lines of teens haphazardly filed in. “Single file! Don’t shove! Remember the emergency drills!” He shouted over all the screeching, gently pushing on the shoulder of the occasional passer to keep the way uncongested. “If your classes aren’t on the ground floor then stick together and find a room to hunker down in.” While the educators did their best to keep order, there was no fighting the alarmed disarray.

Soon, the straggling students all managed to seek safety—all except for one who lagged behind even the last teachers rushing in.

“Mr. Squidtalto, you have to get inside!”

“What? Lee?” The Science instructor found one of his students hadn’t taken refuge. Lee Squidly. “What are you still doing out? We have to lockdown the school.” He hurriedly urged.

Lee mysteriously refused. “I know, so you have to get in now!” Confused, but still anxious, Mr. Squidtalto tried to urge him in. In the end, he seemed to concede, “Okay, okay, I’ll go—SIR, LOOK, IT’S AN ALIEN!” He yelped, pointing away.

“WHAT? WHERE?” The teacher followed his direction, only for the Inkling sophomore to shove him in and slam the heavy door closed. Over the sound of the science instructor’s pleading shouts, Lee heard the clangoring noise of the electronic locks safely sealing everyone inside.

With that, the campus was left completely and utterly deserted. The only sign of life left as the alien threat loomed ever closer was Lee. Nobody could see, and nobody would know about the always timid, soft spoken young man.  

Glasses clutched in his hand, head raised, shoulders cocked back, he boldly looked toward the oncoming assault. Everybody is safe, I can go stop this.

The brave Inkling didn’t get far out of the school courtyard before he was suddenly ambushed. Two hulking monstrous machines belonging to the alien army dropped directly in front of his path. His reflex was to raise his fists, ready for a fight, only to be swooped upon by a pair of aviary automatons. Surrounded on all sides; even the quickest of quick thinking wouldn’t be able to save him.  

The extraterrestrial weapons trained their sights on him. Then, without warning, they fired beams of raw energy directly at him; energy so blisteringly hot they would disintegrate him right on the spot.

Or did they?

If the machines could feel surprise, they would as there was no anticipating their target leaping high into the air, and out of the way of their attack. One of them couldn’t react in time to being pelted by a rapid blasting of ink. As it fell to the counterattack, the rest of them seemed to stare forward, finding the child they attacked had transformed.

Just before the beams struck him, Lee activated his secret weapon. Pinned to his ear was a most wonderful device; one psychically linked to his mind that triggered in one-one billionths of a micro-instant. At the call of “WONDER EYES INKLING!” he donned an all-too familiar burning red costume, only something was distinctly different.

His stance, and the way he gripped a pair of Inkopolis Defense Force issued .96 Gal ink shooters was so much more powerful than ever before. As the one machine began to succumb to the ink spreading through its system, Lee made a declaration.

“I’m a special combat agent of the Inkopolis Defense Force planetary secret service, secret weapon designated for combating extraterrestrial invasion.” As he spoke, the mech fell to its side. “Codename: Wonder Inkling... Junior!” Just as he finished, the robot punctuated his introduction by exploding in a mighty fireball.

Without sparing a moment for their fallen comrade, the three remaining automatons launched another assault.

The empowered boy dodged with great agility, retaliating with super charged shots from his dual weapons. As they failed to hit him and began to succumb to his ink shots, he proposed diplomatically. “Lay down your arms invaders, come peacefully and we won't have to use force!”

One of them remained standing. Camouflaged just long enough by the explosions of its fellow robotic brethren, it moved to attack Lee.

In a flash, it was halted by a pink streak of light delivering a powerful punch.  The first hit sent the machine reeling off its feet, followed by a speedy second jab. The strike smashed clean through its metallic carapace, annihilating it just like the rest.

The new arrival was clothed in the same super powered exoskeleton and identity concealing mask as Lee. Only they were colored in flashy, passionate pink. The sight of the suddenly appearing costumed entity made Lee clench his fists tight against his sides and laugh. “Heh-eh, Mom, you made it!” Watching her turn to face him with a skeptical glance made him suddenly remember their decorum. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and saluted. “uh-ah-he-hum, thank you for coming, Wonderful One leading the Inkopolis Defense Force Field Operations, codename: Wonder Inkling!”

Her expression softened, and she couldn’t help but giggle. His abrupt eagerness to adopt this superhero persona he created was so charming. “Ara ara, oh honey, it’s so cute when you act like such a little hero!” A mighty clank sounded as she clapped her shining golden colored gauntlets together.

“Tsk, Mom…” He muttered at her fawning.

Just then, a serious, commanding voice buzzed over their communicating radios. “Come in Wonder Inkling Senior and Junior; the aliens are attacking the city. They’re converging on Inkopolis Tower. Make your way to Shee-Booyah as soon as possible.”

It was such a feat that in an instant, the peaceful city could be transformed into a warzone. I.D.F. jets rumbled across the sky while fights with earthbound enemies could be seen on the way to the center of town.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”   Janine punched her open hand with her fist. “Ready to go? Partner?”

Standing at her side, Lee readied his pair of super shooters. “I’m right here, ready for anything!” Thinking back; recalling the hours upon days upon weeks of convincing it took to get her to reconsider her decision of ending their ties to the Inkopolis Defense Force and fighting the invaders. Now, they were back in action.

Further fueled by his vigor, the maternal woman said, “That’s my boy. Wonder Inkling, and Wonder Inkling Jr!”  

She held out her hand, to which Lee leapt up to smack his own against hers. With their energies combined, the two merged together into the towering form of Unite Kraken.

With their wonderful power surging through their invincible transformation, the Squidly family yelled together. “Team, unite up!” and they charged into battle.

THE END....?

[fortheheavenssake]

MM Anon 4

MM Anon 4

Nov. 1

MM ANON … She Telegraphed it !!…… mechanically damaged 🤣🤣🤣……… rugby widow😭😭😭……alone on the Balcolonial …… “ Turn around re-play”…… wading through the Slush…… an American Psycho…… PR-int error ………🎼”God only knows “🎼…… 🧣🐓👯‍♀️🤔😭🤥……🎼”Wake up ,little ……… wake up“🎼…… “ I may wear purple Philip “…… “epic old thing ‘ that’ll p!$$ her orf “…… “hair of the DOG Harry”🤣🤣🤣”lets PARTY”……… 15-9 ……… “OK , give me £500”. …… $h!t, I’ve lost my phone!!……” OMG’ all those photos on it!!”

——————-

Nov. 1

MM ANON …… NUTMEG not sanctioned by the BRF on visit to the bakery,all a SS stunt to get an interview with the Tele- laugh. Her woke ramblings ‘ a tossed salad of word salad … me ,me ,me me look at me , “because we’re all women right!! and I’m going to empower you all to become inspired by your own emotional strength,we’re cool sisters of the oppressed forces that the monarchy controls …… yeahhh ‘ right on and solid.”

——————

Nov. 1

MM ANON, Why is Trampmeg trapped in a bakery with the sisters of Perpetual retribution spreading her bacteria all over the sweeties…… simple!!! She’s $h!t scared of being Booooooood !! If she had a public outing with the great unwashed there’d be booing and a knashing of teeth. That’s why the the colonial carpetbagger stays hidden from the public. If its appearance on the balcony at RD. is anything, I bet someone gives her the old verbal finger

—————

Nov. 2

MM ANON , DEAR SWEET JESUS, The Sus-sex saga is really,REALLY dragging on , the anticipation of a drama at RD, the escape to LA, the archificial debacle, the suspect charity slush funds, it just piles on day after day of PR lies and nutmeg hand wringing, whinging and virtuous lectures to the great unwashed. Hiding in Bakery’s and WC kitchens isn’t facing the public ( boooooooo!!! ) this colonial carpetbagger is on the run from the Brits who see through her bull$h!t and mendacity. 🤥🤥🤥

—————-

Nov. 2

MM ANON … “ You are part of this monarchy, you WILL adhere to its traditions”…… “ her past, so embarrassing!!”…… Rogue PR…… “we’ve “cleaned” her phone ma’am”…… “ I fear it’s still out there”…… promoting the impossible …… “ give this one to William” “ thank goodness we have one classic beauty,old thing “ …… “ is Charles thinking of leap-frogging to William ,Philip?”……” my teams made arrangements “…… “shut up!! It’s my Duty!!”…… 🎼” to dream the impossible dream “🎼……”total meltdown sweetie”

——————

Nov 3

MM ANON … ‘ and in the morning, we shall Booo!!!……… Mall-content. …… camera click ‘ I’m OK!!…… “ sit Harry with Melania??”………… a reduced detachment …… “ it’s in the Fine print M’lud”…… “ what!! a night of fruity duty” …… “6 of the 13 are solid!! “…… “ leapfrogging, not a chance old thing” …… “ the right order of things Philip” ……… “ my apologies for the interruption Ma’am”…… “ One should act post-haste”…… “ and keep Harry out of this”. ……… O’ Kate, I hear she got quite scwiffy Philip”.

——————

Nov 3

MM ANON … occasionally one exposes an anomaly within the mainstream collective , I’m not talking about the proud hard working women of America, I’m describing the grifting harsluts who screw their way up the social dung heap that is the domain of institutions of suspect provenance. This specific specimen grift, escort , yacht, sexually ingratiate blow , and manipulate their way into positions of kept high maintenance. Who the hell could that be?… O’her!!!

——————

Nov 4

MM ANON,…… THE ACTUAL REALITY!! The evidence appertaining to nutmegs missing years, The exodus to Madrid for a “ procedure” after leaving the American embassy in BA “ she apparently had an affair with a junior attaché. Then it vanished into the very private and murky world of yachting escorting, often mentioned in her SM posts as auditions for film appearances. 🤣🤣🤣 a clandestine history of sordid consequences that led to an embarrassing entrapment of himself, an archificial birth and lies.

—————-

Nov 4

MM ANON …… RD,will she ‘won’t she?…… a Congressional offer…… The foundations support …… 🎼” don’t stop thinking about tomorrow”🎼………a bit LAX of her…… W&Ks PR assault …“ the popularity of the children your Highness”……” Popular!! we call it “Charlottes Web 🤣🤣”……” it’s the future direction ma’am”…… “she imploded ma’am ,end of!! “…… “ Christmas!! A family portrait ma’am , only the family “…… “ it’s exciting Philip ‘ a new chapter “…… “any cream caramel left old thing”. … tut tut,dyspepsia Philip”

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Nov 5

MM ANON …… A prospective congressional candidate ……caLiforniA voting …… bankrolled by Bubba…… 🎼” ain’t nobody Straight in LA”🎼…… Nov.14th , liftoff !! …… “ don’t come back, general consensus ma’am”. //… “ William’ you’ll love the break darling “…… “ 🦄can I come daddy, pleeeeeez!!”…… “bring me back a 🦎”…… “ Well, rather you than me squidgy” …… “ I’m reading these balcony jokes old thing” ……” 🤣🤣 Philip, look at this one ‘ wicked!!”… “make it there problem, it’s her decision “ … “Ad Nauseam.

——————

Nov 5

#FREECAMILLA……… the hashtag is emblematic of the impossible situation that the DOC has to endure on the 7th. Camilla is scheduled to pay her respects at the field of remembrance at Westminster Abbey following the D&DOS. nutmeg is an appendage regarding TBRF , she turns up all PR and no knickers, poster 42 year old for middle age yachters. How long is it going to soil the institutions of dignity. If you’re not OK and WOUNDED, go back into hiding. #FREECAMILLA. allegedly, speculation of course.

—————

Nov 6

MM ANON, KATES TAGLIATELLE NAPOLITANA. … cook tagliatelle till al dente, Toss in a little truffle olive oil. Napolitana sauce, … cook ground beef( 300grams) in pan with finely sliced garlic and shallots. Season. Add superior tomato sauce ( Italian). Cook for 10 minutes. Pour over tagliatelle that’s in a oval oven dish. Cover with parmigiana reggiano , medium heat for 12 minutes in oven,Serve hot with a glass of good Chianti. Happy Harry guaranteed. NB. This is Kate’s own recipe.

——————

Nov 6

MM ANON, As soon as the last notes of the RD parade fade nutmeg will hot foot it to Northolt to catch her private jet to LA. She’s all packed and ready to flee the country she hates , the “Wounded” snowflake who’s not “OK” won’t stay a second longer in soho house. Harry can start his re-hab from the insidious co-dependency he’s fallen into, and W&K can visit him and coach his return to royal normality, having eaten to many chicken dinners he can relish Kate’s Tagliatelle Napolitana, GSTQAOBC.

—————

Nov 6

MM ANON ………” the pest is fleeing the rented nest” SO-HO HO HO !!!………”🎼” don’t give me that do goody good bullshit”🎼…… I’ll catch him , you talk him round” …… “ don’t be naive, it’ll be longer than 6weeks.”……… “I’ve got a cunning plan”………… Mmmm’ money but NOT title!!…… “ the Privy Purse won’t finance that”. …… “ I’ll have a chat with the LCJ, ol’ Netty will fix it.”…… “ done and dusted darling”. …… 🎼” we’ve already said “ so long”🎼………🎼” With a Little help from my friends”🎼. Amen!!

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Nov 7

MM ANON, THE D&DOC , met family’s and school children today at St. Martin in the Fields. The epitome of royal class. Kate stunning in royal blue dress. Equate this with the sloppy belted afterthought nutmeg wore? A poodle weave, ill fitting navy blue ( not a respectable black) couch throw. Harry dignified in regimental frock coat. Once again she denigrates a solemn occasion with her smug indifference to protocol and traditions. People were laughing contemptuously at her. GET RID !!!

————-

Nov 7

MM ANON …… Royal blue class…… navy blue @ss……… royal winning ……… smug grinning …… “ a quiet word in your shell-like Harry, she embarrassed you”…… “Sunday night ma’am, alone!!”…… Royal Trinity …… 🎼” leaving on a jet plane , don’t know “🎼……… “Exeter airport, not far from Babington ma’am”……”What!! a brotherly tour LG?”…… SANDRINGHAM sand pit…”one disaster at a time,old thing”……” Melania has royal discretion Philip”…… “ God knows Philip, money?”…… “whatever’ but not in bloody black and white “

——————

Nov 7

MM ANON , WELL WHAT’I,TELL YA, congressional representative for a district of L.A. , if my little birdies are chirping the same song ,the appointed one is going to run , and it won’t be South Central, some nice residential upmarket suburb , 60% coloured. The Gang of Four will offer their endorsement and Nancy with the laughing face will put the cherry on top. 2020 cometh. She won’t come back. And Harry will become mr. Megan Markle, unless of course’…………………

—————-

Nov 9

MM ANON … beyond the bathrobe… hit the spot(not)…… never on a Sunday …… 🎼Sun-day my Prince will come🎼…LA Confidential …… morning TV. …… The Late shows …… “And now a surprise guest ‘Princess Megan and Prince Archie”…… “And now a word from her sponsor”…… A Meg-a endorsement … “you can have my jet”…… please!! a little decorum”…… Who’me!!

——————

Nov 9

—————-

Nov 10

MM ANON, SO …… “ Don’t stand with us, Don’t sit with us , we don’t require your company or conversation , just f***off back to California and re-connect with your vacuous valley girls who can only talk of their therapists,and being f**** by their personal trainers”. “ What say you Camilla”… “ I totally agree ma’am”. Alleged royal drawing room conversation between HMTQ,DOC,D&DOS. 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤣🤣🤣🤣

—————-

Nov 10

MM ANON, So , megherp wears an inverted piss-pot on her head , another FU protocol, while outcasted to the Siberian balcony, I wonder what the conversation was inside the rooms of the foreign Office while she was waiting with Harry. M.” Look at that stuck up bitch Kate,talking to the Queen” K. “ well’ Megan looks very average again, naked legs I see, Mmm,ever-ready Rachel suits her”. H. “What time is your plane leaving “. M. “ as soon as I can f*** off from you lot”. Allegedly, speculation only.

—————

Nov 10

MM ANON …… game,set and lies…… “ that royal DR conversation actually took place “……… game, set And Siberia …… William isn’t enamoured …… “Bare legs, ever ready Rachel “🤣🤣🤣🤣………”So-Ho hook-up?? really”……… “the RPO HAS to keep quiet!!! …… “ a scandal to far old thing “…… “ pray it stays!!”…… “extra protection , NO , let her pay!!”……… “ her little friends ‘ it’s a called a sleepover William “ …… “Yes,Edward and Sophie “…… “wheels up ma’am ,… thank god LG”

Thank you MM Anon…😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This is not written by Skippy!😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

——————-

Nov 10

MM ANON ……… “ for the attention of the intellectually challenged trolls, I write my own riddles and submit them to skippy. “ but then again, that’s the reason you’re all intellectually challenged. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 one thing trolls have in spades, contempt prior to investigation ……… many thanks skippy.

—————-

Nov 11

MM ANON …… “H’ phone Oprah , NOW!!…… “ we’ll stay with SW for a while”…… “ my mother’s already here”. ……… “ Lottie’ tell your little friends to stop jumping on the bed.” …… BREAKFAST!!…… “ OK’ who’s for sticky maple syrup and waffles?”…… Charlotte!!!! behave. …… “ We’re outnumbered George!!”……”NANNY HELP!, …… “Wait and see,ma’am, wait and see!!”…… “yes, my friends in the service!!”… The banquet would be a good time. ……Embroil him in duties to his regiment ……’seven for a secret never to be told.

—————-

Nov 11: MM anon?

Dear skippy, I do believe I’m being logged and monitoring by TPTB. Also my dear friend ALLEGEDLY ANON. every word I write, they’ll be watching me. ……… MM ANON. They’ve already got to me very surreptitiously. Please post this ,the more anons know the better. Kind regards.

————-

Nov 11

MM ANON… … Delayed flight 14th Nov.

————-

Nov 13

MM ANON ……… 🎼” let the Sunshine”🎼…… who pulled the short straw?……… palm trees at Sandringham …… “ pass the Dorito’s darling “……… Sophie’s surprise ……“ I love the belt sweetie”. … Preg-nont…… “ I love the belt sweetie” ……… “yes , smile and serve them gru-el”…… Christmas?” Musical chairs old thing” ……… more of a 12 by 6 ……… small expectations …… Kate’s red carpet …… “ bet she goes for the lovers knot.” …… Hobson choice.

——————

Nov 14

MM ANON …… MAD-ISON AV. Re-Sunshine Sucks…… a tabloid too far…… LA thanksgiving? …… homeless shelter thanksgiving?……Royal Family thanksgiving?…… professional lie juggler …… $h!t scared of loosing tax millions …… HMTQ drops in 🤣🤣🤣🤣…… MM drops out…… “ it’s not rocket science Harry dear boy, she’s a s****!!…… “ but I love her” … “Really!!, sit down and watch this” …… “ now!! convinced!!”…… “ ones judgment is sometimes compromised Harry” …… “ But, But ,But …… “No ifs, no Butts. … just act royal

————-

Nov 14

MM ANON ………… surreptitiously, “lift off”. …… who dares,bins…… 🎄it’s a wonderful strife🎄…… failure is not a-doption……Interstellar McCartney………me invito tactiost…… an act of con-passion…… “ therapy, the humanitarian solution Harry”. …… “serious emotional and mental disorders” …… it’s not her fault, she seems to have been born that way” ……… “ yes!! Section 8. … “ it’s your call!! “

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Nov 15

MM ANON, WTF !!! there’s a record of conversations and confidences A DIARY!! really,REALLY !! This is a potential IED … regarding a tome of disastrous consequences for HMTQ and the Royal Family. Whispers about said Tome have been fluttering around royal circles for over a year. If ‘ IF , someone had a resentment or grievance against the RF and one had recorded all in a “Diary” the publication would be of universal interest. ( $20 million advance) at least. Her future secured!! just sayin !!

—————

Nov 15

MM ANON, coercion is a crime. Blackmail is a crime, so why is nutmeg bleeting on about empowerment and mindfulness 🤮🤮🤮 while the biggest criminal manipulation against a monarch and her family was undertaken with her at the Center. This grifter used and abused a naive recipient into a marriage and turned him into a co-dependent with emotional and character changing traits. BLACKMAIL IS A CRIME!! Tick TOCK.

—————-

Nov 15

MM ANON, EXPLOITATION!!! Stella(money) McCartney pays East Hungarian women £2.6 an hour ……… and say it takes a worker 5 hours to complete a coat / say materials cost £50.00 + labour £15.00 … so £65.00 for a coat retailing at £1.545.00……… quite a mark up a Stella’ old woke , humanitarian nutmeg buys your extortionate rag without any bleeting of exploitation of Hungarian women ……… Mmmm not to Woke nutmeg. HYPOCRISY!!

—————

Nov 15

MM anon .......... “wash spin repeat”......... no hole barred🤣🤣🤣......... reflect,deflect,infect...... DM is armed and dangerous...... court jester 🎭......... the light is Fading...... nice hypocrisy you’re wearing...... hunger-Ian...... GCHQ on the QT......... I’m not a row boat...... “they will unleash the dossier from hell”...... complete disclosure......... in case of emergency, pull handle. ...... sorry you’re out of time......... 🎼 …”rescue me”…🎼.

—————

Nov 15

MM ANON ……Ventura Highway …… “ yes, let’s go!!”…… GCHQ, on the QT…… W knows EVERYTHING!!…… PR pops in”🤣🤣……… “ one pops in , Philip”…… archificial pops out, when?……… “ bit of a soft interview “…… tighten security, NOW!!…… “ this ones out the bag , old thing”…… “ I’m looking forward to it Philip, all the little ones”…… “yes , one is a tad hurt”…… A good appointment.…… “ right up Her street”. …… 🎼give yourself a very🎄merry Christmas🎼…… “ Little ones?the service is too long,Philip”.

This is the one I thought I deleted….I deleted the copy not the original…..forward we go….😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Nov 16

MM ANON/ ALLEGEDLY ANON/NANNY ANON/0 YEA,O YEA ANON/ HOLD UP, HOLD UP ANON/ LIFT OFF ANON ……………………………BYE BYE.

Because I won’t post tirades against PA….they have chosen to leave. I thought keeping PA separate from riddles was the right thing to do. It seems that was not what they expected from me. I am on the side of truth, I’m not burying PA stuff, I just don’t believe there is enough info for me to support their thoughts. I’m not here to expose PA…I am here to expose MM…and PA is a distraction. Sorry.

————

Nov 18

MM ANON ……”too many eyes, it has to be privejet “…… SS , travel agent ……” NO more interviews “ ……” I’ll, give her away!!” …… 🎼”they had style,and well read,MM gave good head,vogue “🎼……… Aotearoa…… DM litigate big guns…… Subpoena demeanour ……… “ocean view,or the hills princess?”…… “ ones posterior is sore” …… “ I warned you old thing”…… “ Bugger them, tomorrow’s chip paper!!”……… “ I want a monkeeeeey!!🦄🐒

————

Big 18

MM ANON , MANY BLESSINGS AND SALUTATIONS FOR THE SKIPPY GANG ……… (my bad!! ) …… ONWARDS TOWARDS THE JUDICIAL INCARCERATION OF MADAM. Please dear sweet Jesus let the righteous triumph over the darkness that she’s bestowed on TBRF. 

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Nov 19

MM ANON … Sharon concern about Forth Bridge …… operation updates …… charitable uncoupling …… LG takes a grip?…… GM on the QT with Harley St. ……

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Nov 19

MM ANON ………GM consults Chobanian…… Sharon,concerns about Forth Bridge. …… Charitable uncoupling ……… a worried sausage …… LG ‘quite confidence …… cogs oiled and ready …… Dark clouds over ninety mile beach …… “it’s a runaway train old boy”…… “PRUNING , autumn or Spring?”……” I’m only the messenger!!”……… W&K ,royalty personified …… “weathering the shower, it’s not a storm old boy”……

—————-

Nov 19

MM ANON , Re-lesser anon, There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance … that principle is contempt prior to investigation. Just sayin’ 🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 20

MM ANON ……… LVH, she’s vanished” ……… BC , Arkan-SIDED……… 🎼” another one bites the dust “ 🎼………”the notebooks are no longer available”……”ones concerned and caring”…… Sandringham sanctuary …… Amazingly stoic “bloody fuss, piss off”……… W&Ks Support is continuous ……… C&C on recall?……” He had a multitude of secrets” …… warden patsy’s……All the ex-Presidents woM.E.N.…… “OMG,not another lift off?”

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Nov 20

VERY HAPPY 72nd WEDDING ANNIVERSARY 🍸🍸👑👑🍮🍮🎊🎉💞💞

Yes…A Very Happy Anniversary!🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Nov 20

MM ANON, ……… NOW EVERYONE CAN RETURN TO WHAT REALLY MATTERS ………… THE INCARNATION AND JUDICIAL CONCLUSION TO THE HIGH CRIMES AND MISDEMEANOURS OF THE COLONIAL CARPETBAGGER. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 20

MM ANON … THIS BLOG IS NOT PRO-PEDOPHILIA. PERIOD.

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Nov 21

MM ANON …… Hey’ RF!! I’m still not OK…… Daughters dilemma …… FBI delivers legal documents …… canary’s calling …… wittiness projection …… Max-well-on-Her-way-farer…… southern district documents verified …… Kuwaiti waity …… Lottie lustre camera caper…… DOC photo exhibition imminent …… “ I have a request”…… request denied !!…… USA demands archificial …… Northern flights.

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Nov 21

MM ANON ……💜💜💜💜💜. To all anons. I appreciate all submissions on the riddles, all are brilliant interpretations of words and meanings. BRAVA TO ALL !! …… PG is one of our much loved deciphering anons , so on a spiritual level we pray for dear PG. prayers and positive energy for our dear much loved friend. 💜💜💜💜💜💜 prayers for Mr skippy and PG. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜❤️❤️❤️❤️💜💜💜💜

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Nov 22

For PG

MM ANON 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜WELCOME BACK PG💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜it’s good to have you back. 💜💜

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Nov 22

MM ANON, O’SKIPPY, the angel who opened a dog hospice, ……… I CRIED , I REALLY CRIED 😢😢 how wonderful, what thoughtfulness and humility a real HUMANITARIAN!!! Hey nutmeg, how about donating a dress price to this canine saint. GOD BLESS YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

It really is something…earth angels are with us to restore faith in humanity, we are seeing more earth angels now as the world is dark we are learning. Thank you God for giving us these amazing stories and anons who bring them.🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Nov 22

MM ANON, Dear skippy i posted riddle earlier today 🤣💜💜💜. 🎼🎼🎼🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧🎼🎼🎼

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Nov 22

MM ANON …a cuppa and a trot…… “ no damage darling”…… “W&K will pick up the slack”…… “ let’s go visit the old bugger”…… A Christmas PR push…… “ she has to show archificial “……… Harry and Sandringham??……… “ for goodness sake,nanny had the night off” ……… “it’s a wonderful Christmas card darling”………… will boss baby go viral??………Mmm , Little punk Prince!

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Nov 23

MM ANON …… “ it’s not Andrew it’s Meeeee!!”…… “suits is a positive act”🤣🤣……… “ life is like a box of chocolates”…… “Doritos here”……… “I’ll cook a turkey dinner”…… Charles Champion……… “ we’ll have to, in the speech??”…… media vita in Monte sumus…… “something borrowed ,someone’s blue”…… “Christmas’Blue Water,Lottie,”…… “Unicorrrrrns”🦄🦄……… “strictly Party Nanny 🥳”……… “ bit of week old thing, hugs!!”…… “ and a large sherry”……… “ a large malt”

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Nov 24

ALLEGEDLY/ MM / NANNY/…… ALL THE GANG. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎼🎼🎼🎼❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️💜💜🙏🏻HAPPY BIRTHDAY SKIPPY HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY.

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Nov 24

MM ANON …… a homecoming hiatus …… Top of the Pops👑👑…… “ And when they were only half way up”……… “ it’s going to be a PA tabloid tsunami”…… 🎼”potato,patarto, lets call the whole thing off”🎼……… “just take the bloody photo”……… “a horrified positive Pratt”…… 🎼” iiiiim’putin on my top hat”🎼……… Kate’ “I do everything he dose, only backwards and in six inch heels, and with three children”…… “ I trust in William old thing”…… “Sir!! focus,a century is demanded!”…………… 🎼”pictures of Lily”🎼

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Nov 25

MM ANON ………lay a place for Vlad?…… lovers knot hiding …… Kate ,Melania & Ivanka shine …… nutmeg crashes posh-nosh?…… “ it’s just impeachy’Donald” ……… “ no chance Ma’am”……… “Hows the Dook?”…… “a special Yuletide for a million reasons ,ma’am”…… legalities,Banalities,Calamities …… “2020, I’m an optimist Christopher”…… “less is more, ma’am”

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Nov 26

MM ANON … “ it’s a Mozzi bite …… wed-ding-a-ling …… “my advice ‘ have it in Italy”’…… “ She’s crippled with shame”……… “I saw her with archificial yesterday in Waitrose,“ …… “from Windsor to Winnipeg”. ……… Andy, Charles and Clarence ,……”thanksgiving ‘ darling she went back to LA”…… “ but ,but, but the SOOOOOOPKITCHEN!!! “…… spin ,grin and a bottle of gin…… 🎼”I’m dreaming of a ( WOC) Christmas “🎼……… “Sandringham old thing, fuck the election”. …… “ ones duty first Philip”……… “ don’t mention him”

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*** Nov 27. Answer

MM ANON, DEAR ANONS, TO BE HONEST, I didn’t even know where Winnipeg was!! I was speculating where nutmeg was going to end up at Christmas? I now know that I’ve upset the whole pop. of Winnipeg……… SO SORRY ! Sorry PG. 💜💜💜💜💜

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Nov 27

MM ANON … Archificial carves the Turkey …… Megan BURNS the gravy……Frogmore or LESS… ” Harry PULLS a CRACKER”… Dorito’ where is Dorito??…… An-drew the short straw… Con-sort it out Charles … swimmingly!!🦄🦎 …… “ the general public would lap it up your Highness” …… “ little stars”……… 🎼four and twenty Black-Birds🎼…… “Frozen film party at KP”…… “Darling I’ll cook, how many?”…… “14, no problem!!”…… “a ten pounder”…… “Kate’s cooking old thing”…… “another drink Philip?”… “wait till Christmas Eve !!”

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Nov 28

MM ANON ……… pencil thin 👀…… 👧👦🏼👶🎡🎢🎠……… maple, leaf it alone ……… 🛩who knows?……… “one has responsibilities Charles”……… “ six weeks’ and they can’t show the bloody baby.”…… “flown out , bloody good job!!”……… send up the menu!! …… very secure ma’am!! ……… all those SS chappies…… “ I hear she’s quiet the English Rose” ……… “ if only!!”……… “good stock, don’t cha’ know”…… DEEP and CRISP and IVAN…… He’ll stop their extravagant travel. ……… “ charades ,old thing”. …” pass the parcel,Philip!!”

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Nov 29

MM ANON …… 🎼 build it up with wood and clay🎼 ……… a crown script …… Harry’s rapid response …… the wrong side of the tunnel ……… “give time,time old boy”……… “ if it was Good enough for HM”……… tagged ,bad, and dangerous to know ……… look ,listen and learn ……… black fry-day……”nowhere as secluded as Sandringham”……… “she’s a beauty mate, breath of fresh air”

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Nov 30

MM ANON ……… “Darling’ please pass the Wrinkle cream” ………”she’s on this blog I read”💜……… “ we’ve been invited to the Boxing Day shoot” …… WoW ‘ that’s a beautiful photo Kate …… “he’s to young ‘ good grief William!!”…… ‘This cobra has no fangs ……… “The service, maybe bring C&G.” ……… “ The spring diary ma’am’ was thinking they could do The America’s and Canada” ……… “ the Children too”…… “what say you Philip?” …… “indubitable , old thing” …… “ Settled!!”……” Sidney’ more refreshments”

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Dec 1

MM ANON, I’m watching series 1 of the crown, BRILLIANTLY WRITTEN AND EDITED. The filming is so accurate and attention to detail. I remember Norman Hartnell designing the Queens wardrobe for the commonwealth tour. My mother was a dress-maker so I watched everything she watched. Methinks the Queen had something to do with this because it’s so accurate. Reason, she’s 92 ‘ what a visual legacy. I can imagine her throwing a ashtray at Philip, and HIS secret dalliances. EPIC!!

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