#presumably because she stays at her place and out of the way when Louis is in residence

[patron-saints]

on morality & madeleine: interview with the vampire meta (written after s2e6)

so far, i’ve found that trying to process my thoughts on madeleine feels really difficult when everyone online has their own opinions and their own biases. this post is kind of my attempt to sort out how i feel about her, and to refute and explore some arguments i’ve seen pop up in her tag.

i think the people who are pointing out that first and foremost these are fictional characters have it right: they’re not real people, their relative morality is only relevant as it pertains to the story itself. and in a story like interview with the vampire, your baseline is that every main character is a killer. in terms of morality, evaluating whether or not a character is a good person is pretty useless and also just… isn’t the point of the story. all characters are functions of a narrative, all characters are tools that you use to tell a story. their morality should not be judged in the same way as you would a real person’s! now. all that being said, let’s have some fun judging* madeleine anyway!

*doing some of my own biased character analysis on

what we know comes to us from a few sources: claudia’s diary, which daniel can read, (decent primary source, but filtered with her biases), louis’s recollection of madeleine’s memories (secondary source that relies on both of their ability to remember clearly) and presumably, louis and armand’s recollections of their interactions as well, which isn’t a whole lot to begin with.

part 1: the nazi fucking

when madeleine talks about sleeping with a nazi to claudia, she’s extremely casual about it. while she notes he brought her food, and cigarettes, she says in a way that invokes a courtship ritual, rather than a direct bribe. it’s impossible to divorce this from the context though: her neighbors are starving, and she was brought food. it likely was a bribe, but what’s important is that she doesn’t relay it as one. her focus when she starts talking about him is on the connection: “it was the comfort, the proof of life,” as she says. if she had been coerced, or if she felt like she had no choice in the matter, i think she would have presented it a little differently. but her affection for the guy is clear, and she even mocks him a little to claudia. in her own words, “i wasn’t inviting hitler to stay in france, i was inviting a frightened boy to cradle my tits.” 

which. let’s be real here: to claudia, she is downplaying it. she slept with an occupying soldier during an occupation. watching this scene for the first time, you could even reasonably assume she doesn’t get how serious that is. but once you see the degree of punishment she faced, and continues to face for her actions, you realize her framing here is a learned defense against genuine violence. she feels she has to downplay it to herself and to claudia because there is an imbalance here. it becomes harder to admit to your wrongdoings when the punishments you face for them feel wildly disproportionate.

madeleine did something she never should have done, something she doesn’t feel remorse for, but something that she’s being punished for in a way that far exceeds what any person deserves.

when she talks about it to armand, her framing changes again. she calls it a love, still, so the affection is still present, but she places a greater emphasis on doing what it takes to survive, implying more so that sleeping with a nazi was an act of self-preservation. regardless of whether this is more true than how she presents things to claudia, she has a motivation here too.

when she shares her experiences with claudia, she’s flirting, trying to make her laugh, trying to make a connection, and this part might be subconsciously, but she is certainly trying to get claudia to like her. when she talks to armand, however, she’s actively trying to convince him to grant her the dark gift. she has to portray herself as capable, as self-sufficient, and discerning, and it works! even though he denies her based on his own biases, armand is visibly impressed by all of madeleine’s answers to his questions.

and all we get from louis was that the experience was sweet. and let’s be real, it did look pretty sweet.

i don’t believe madeleine has any hatred for the boy she slept with. i don’t think there’s any evidence she has any hatred for jewish people either, or for her country, which her neighbors believe she betrayed. i think she chose to prioritize a moment of human connection (and possibly food) over the greater consequences of her actions.

i have been looking for the post again since i saw it, so if anyone sees it lmk! but! the op talked about the fact that madeleine as a collaborator isn’t changing her behavior in any meaningful way now: she watched claudia kill in front of her, and instead of running, she once again invited the danger in, joined up with it. i believe the post said something like: once a collaborator, always a collaborator.

this has really stuck with me and i really wish i could reference it properly.

cuz i think there is something there—i think madeleine’s self-preservation instinct is a little screwed on wrong, i think she is acting similarly with claudia as she did with the nazi, but i think it’s not just about the danger. portraying her choice to follow claudia as a cold moment of choosing survival takes away from her complexity, and from the veracity of her feelings for claudia. so, not just the danger. i think it’s about the connection again.

the connection she has with claudia is real, the love she has for claudia is incredibly real. but madeleine is once again prioritizing an interpersonal connection over anything else, and that is the pattern she’s repeating here.

part 2: the apparent age gap issues

every single person who says their relationship is problematic because claudia is a child owes me and claudia fifty bucks.

i don’t really even want to get into that because i don’t think it’s worth my time. the show has put a lot of effort into demonstrating that claudia is an adult trapped in the body of a teenager, and that experience is hard enough on her without all you people insisting she’s still a kid anyway.

however, there’s a secondary argument i’ve seen which i do want to address, which is madeleine’s perception of her.

in their first meeting in the shop, it’s clear that madeleine is seeing claudia as a teenager. she calls her one directly, and references her “body about to bloom” when they meet again two years later. however, when they do meet two years later, claudia has not grown. we know madeleine has noticed this by the dress fitting scene for certain, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume she noticed that sooner. additionally, in the same breath, madeleine also references claudia’s “mind of a sophisticate.” by the time claudia tells her that her growth was stunted due to the war, it’s extremely likely that madeleine had already reached a similar conclusion. she doesn’t look surprised at all when claudia says it, and it’s because claudia seems like an adult. even if she doesn’t look like one, she carries herself like one, she makes conversation like one, and it’s very easy for madeleine to accept the reality that she is one, because she may have suspected as much already. 

the reason i say all of this is because i’ve seen multiple people saying it’s inappropriate for her to flirt with claudia before she knows she’s an adult.

is their interaction at the shop window flirting? are they flirting outside the theatre, just after the play? both of these scenes are before claudia says her growth was stunted. i think it’s impossible to say they were definitively flirtatious, but i will certainly say there was a vibe. and i think that’s… kind of fine actually ? two people can have chemistry and it doesn’t have to mean anything about them morally. and my coworker andy said it would have been weirder if they had no chemistry and then did suddenly after madeleine realizes she’s an adult, which made me laugh, and which i think is correct. i like the way they get along before the dress fitting, i think those scenes are fun, and the ambiguity of the flavor adds to it.

i did see at least one post that said it was inappropriate for madeleine to talk about sex frankly with claudia if she thinks she’s a teenager, and to that i say. you can talk to teens about sex. even if she didn’t suspect claudia was older, it’s still fine. they are friends, and she’s sharing an experience she had because claudia asked her about it. 

additionally, it’s both a very contemporary & a very american idea that People Under 18 need to be kept from conversations about sex. frankness about sexuality is in fact, very french lol.  

i did originally think that this was after the conversation about claudia not growing, but i just watched the scene again to be sure and it was, in fact, also before, but i think my point stands. 

i don’t know for certain if she intended to come across as flirtatious in these scenes, but i know something clicked for her right around her confession. you can see it, when they lock eyes in the mirror, that whatever the vibe is, they’ve both clocked it. and she finds out claudia’s older than she looks only seconds later, because she’s the one pointing out that claudia hasn’t grown. (but, yes, i’ll add anyway: after claudia says her growth was stunted, and after that moment of connection, madeleine’s expressions do seem a lot more… Interested too, lol). 

i understand and i empathize so much with people’s criticisms of madeleine’s past. i have no intention to exonerate her in that regard (other than her previously mentioned narrative tool status) but i will jump to her defense when it comes to her relationship with claudia.

madeleine sees claudia as an adult, because claudia is an adult.

if they weren’t vampires, and if they weren’t queer in the 1940s, maybe she’d be worried about how others saw their relationship. or maybe it would be weird if she didn’t care how it looked. but given that the only people who will know they’re romantically together are other vampires, i don’t see her lack of concern for the optics being that much of an issue either.

and the reason she’s not concerned is because she knows what claudia is to her. which brings us to:

part 3: the sister stuff

once again i think the show does a pretty good job of refuting this one on its own, but i’d like to get all my arguments in the same place.

so. i see “don’t worry about the blood, it’s the blood that made you,” getting thrown around a lot as proof that madeleine is replacing claudia as her sister.

why would they have a scene that directly refutes this if they were true? when louis asks if that’s what’s going on, claudia says they already “had it out,” and madeleine clarifies that claudia is nothing like her sister, and cannot be a replacement.

“don’t worry about the blood, it’s the blood that made you,” is something that madeleine says because she loves claudia, because she loves the person and the vampire that she is. because she wants claudia to know that her past does not define her. because she wants her to know she doesn’t feel tainted by it, and that claudia doesn’t have to either.

and yeah, it’s not that there’s zero incestuous tones to it! or to the whole arrangement, certainly. but i think any that are there pretty neatly fall under the “iwtv typical wire crossings” flavor rather than the “you’re my dead sister’s replacement” flavor.

so, yeah. despite saying fictional character morality doesn’t matter, i’ve just written several paragraphs trying to figure out if madeleine is a good person or not. really, though, that’s not the question iwtv wants us to ask, or the question i really want to ask its viewers either. is madeleine a good person? eh, probably not. is madeleine a good person for claudia? absolutely.

on this, iwtv is extremely clear. madeleine is an ideal partner. she’s not scared, she’s not surrounded by friends and family she’d grieve, she’s weirdly suited to vampirism, and she loves claudia so much. they share a morbid sense of humor, they’re comfortable teasing each other, they communicate in an extremely healthy way, and every single step of their relationship is based on consent.

the entire time i was watching her scene with armand, i just kept whispering, “oh my god, she’s perfect.” she nailed absolutely every question because she’s perfect for what she’s supposed to do as character, as a function of the narrative she is a part of. madeleine is perfect because she is perfect for claudia.

[holyshit]

You don’t know me or what I’ve said about Maya’s book an everything she is alluding to in the press. I’m staying anonymous because I’ve seen how quick you have been to judge Liam and everyone connected to this situation. You have already wrongfully assumed a lot about me. I’ve read and posted quite a bit about both the problems with the anti abortion message that Maya is pushing, and the problems with men that push their partners to get abortions they don’t want. I haven’t seen you say one word about either. 😏 so yeah, you seem to be more concerned about canceling Liam than helping victims. And as woman who dated men in Texas and lived there during the pandemic, I also have a personal connections to the issues Maya is talking about in a way most of this fandom does not. But stay comfortable on your high horse and continue to ignore naunce and all opinions that differ from yours if you’re so sure of yourself.

i was going to ignore this but these empty ass arguments are making me lauggggh

"I’m staying anonymous because I’ve seen how quick you have been to judge Liam and everyone connected to this situation"

literally WHERE have i been judging anyone other than liam lmao. in fact, your last message was all about trying to get a "gotcha!" moment out of me still reblogging louis and me responding that i am not going to hold something against louis until i actually know his stance, so i'm not jumping on "everyone connected to the situation". me partially disagreeing with anons who come into my ask box presumably to hear what i have to say is not me jumping down anyone's throat, unlike you actively coming into my inbox accusing me of random shit because you can't comprehend that someone can legitimately care about a very serious issue like domestic abuse and believing victims who come forward with their story.

"I’ve read and posted quite a bit about both the problems with the anti abortion message that Maya is pushing, and the problems with men that push their partners to get abortions they don’t want. I haven’t seen you say one word about either. so yeah, you seem to be more concerned about canceling Liam than helping victims."

first off, the only thing she said about the abortion in her interview was that it was painful, there were complications, she had to go in to the hospital for her complications alone, that it felt lonely for a man to speak as if it was no big deal when they don't actually know what it's like to go through an abortion, and that if she hadn't been pressured to get an abortion, she wouldn't have done it. none of that is inherently anti-choice, she is speaking of her own experience and how her choice was taken away by someone who minimized it and acted like the process was no big deal for his own benefit because he didn't want another kid. you can be pro-choice and still find it distressing to hear your partner dismiss your concerns and then not even accompany you to the hospital (after being given an ultimatum to have the abortion in the first place) when you experience complications. i don't know anything personal about maya so i have no clue if she is anti-choice, but no matter her position on abortion in general, it is still can absolutely be traumatic to ANYONE to be pressured into an abortion they don't want and then ignored by their partner through the process.

secondly, that is so wild to say that me not specifically discussing the abortion part of her story means i don't care about victims when it seems all you want to do is question her credibility. the fucking weirdest line of thinking to go "wow you didn't pick apart and criticize what she said about her abortion experience like I did, which means you don't care about victims" does not... make sense lmfao. all my discussions about this entire situation came specifically from anons talking about the addiction component and me giving my thoughts on that aspect, so the abortion was never an active part of the discussion, but i was never ignoring it. i have always considered it to be one of the traumatic scenarios she went through with him and was included whenever i spoke about abuse. i care about her as a victim enough to not question her credibility like you are doing all over your blog (which i do know, because i already saw your same tired arguments on my dash in your tags earlier before i unfollowed you) where you are minimizing her experience, taking jabs at her, acting like the potential of her being anti-choice is at all relevant to a discussion about domestic abuse and her being pressured into an abortion she didn't want, and trying to say it's not "in liam's character" to pressure her into an abortion, which is ridiculous when you have never even had a conversation with him in your life. one of the cornerstones of caring about victims is recognizing that abuse can happen even when the person seems nice in other contexts.

anyway, fuck off.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

💀 Sat 3 Oct ‘20 🎃

Harryween may have been pushed back to next year, but you know who always come through for us in the clutch: Liam! The LP show logo on veeps has changed to a version that's a carved pumpkin with spoopy flames inside, suggesting a halloween event. How will Liam top the costume he already wore at his birthday stream? I'm aflutter with chills of anticipation... Also he finished the skull drawing he started on his livestream the other day and captioned it “getting ready for Halloween.” I'd have been wildly impressed anyway, but seeing it go from a pencil outline to a shaded masterpiece makes it even more impressive. This fandom is full of things that seem too improbable to be real, and Liam being not just an incredibly talented musician but also a one-time olympic level runner and skilled visual artist with a miraculous kidney who once saved someone from a burning building comes in ahead of even the frankly unrealistic number of identical twins we have to deal with, someone really needs to speak with the writers about dialing it back a touch. Who does they think he is, James Bond or something?!

Charlie Lightening (who was on hand 24/7 at the time of the Walls release and shared with a fan the anxiety he and the rest of Team Louis were feeling about whether it would do well) posted about the album's unexpected return to the chart this week, saying “shoutout to the fans who made this happen. I've seen [their] support globally it's something else,” and Jamie Hartman, who Louis credits with finding him the sound he wanted in their work together, also thanked fans (“[Louis] has some of the most amazing fans in the bloody world!”) and said he “was with him all week making some new magic so it was perfect timing.” Jamie tagged the wrong account for Louis but that's okay since he would have been able to congratulate him in person anyway while they banged out the “four songs in four days” Louis just told us about! What a welcome interruption that wild fan intervention must have been and the perfect boost for those new tunes- talk about a win for fans.

Niall says “we're back!” with a OOTD post and a 9 song playlist for BBC1, so Niall stans who feared that his recent tweet about taking time out might mean we wouldn't hear from him for a while can turn those frowns upside down! I believe he meant not that he was going dark and disappearing but simply that he doesn't plan to release new music while promo and touring are still hampered, which certainly makes sense given the interruption of the Heartbreak Weather release, and his continued media presence would seem to confirm this.

Hey, do you know who else ISN'T James Bond? Well, all of them (even Louis, he was the evil cat), but only one of them went on record to say so today; Harry. According to his team rumors published in the Daily Mail saying he was in meetings to star in the franchise, “aren't even remotely true.” And last but not least, add a name to the varied and bizarre assortment of celebs who have praised Harry: Jon Bon Jovi, who said, “Harry Styles is the real deal. He’s really great.” Someday we'll have to compile that list; it will be thousands long and genuinely the funniest most random possible assortment of people, I'd love to be at that dinner party (but ofc not really as that would be very unsafe and unlike n*zi politicians I would not want to see the Harry fan club suffer the consequences of careless socializing.)

[meetmymouth]

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey​ and @burberryharold​ for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels! 

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer,  “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?”  He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

[josefavomjaaga]

Paris, January 3, 1810

This is a letter by Madame Eleonore Metternich (nicknamed Lorel) to her husband Clemens, giving some insight into how negotiations about the Austrian-French marriage started. It’s translated from Metternich’s papers, Volume 2, the original is in French, and the spouses adress each other as “vous”.

The Metternichs were a rather odd couple. He a notorious skirt-chaser, falling in love (and passionately!) with every other pretty lady, and she a rather homely, small and unattractive woman, perfectly informed about her husband's many affairs, yet still staunchly supportive and full of admiration for hubby dearest. When during the wedding ceremonies at Compiègne the two of them happened to meet on the road one night, he coming from Vienna and she from Paris, there was the bonmot that "all these extra-ordinary circumstances had been necessary to make Monsieur and Madame Metternich meet at night for once." In truth, the two of them seem to have gotten along pretty well; they had seven children, Metternich entrusted his wife with many important tasks, and she dutifully closed her eyes over his exmarital escapades. The two of them seem to have led an "old-fashioned" marriage, which was much more about business than about romance.

Paris, January 3 , 1810

Today I have some very extraordinary things to tell you, and I almost believe that my letter will be an essential part of the expedition.

First of all I must tell you that I was presented to the Emperor last Sunday. I had only asked Champagny for it verbally, when I received a letter from M. de Ségur which told me that the Emperor had fixed it for Sunday, and that I had to choose a lady from the palace who would present me. I chose in my wisdom the Duchess of Bassano, and after waiting, together with a score of other women among whom were the Princess of Isenbourg, Madame de Tyszkiewitz and others, from two o'clock until half-past six in the evening, I was introduced first, and the Emperor received me in a way that I could not have believed. He showed real joy at seeing me again and at the fact that I had stayed here during the war; [...]

When war broke out in 1809, it seems the Austrian government kinda forgot about its ambassador in Paris and did not recall him in time. Metternich was first detained, then exchanged for a general as prisoner of war. As soon as peace had been concluded, he became Minister of Foreign Affairs in Austria and had since then remained in Vienna. Lorel, as to her, had contemplated following her husband to Austria several times. But she clearly was more useful in Paris, so she stayed and informed Metternich of what was going on in the French capital.

[...] he spoke to me about you and said: "M. de Metternich has the first place in the Monarchy; he knows this country well, he will be able to be useful to it." This sentence impresses me above all by what will follow.

The next morning Madame d'Audenarde came to me, and told me that the Empress [...]

The empress - that would be Josephine. Already chucked out of the Tuileries and with her marriage to Napoleon declared invalid. But obviously still very much in the midst of things.

[...] would like to see me very much; I went to Malmaison the next day, which was yesterday. When I arrived, there was only the Viceroy in the salon, who is the best of humans; he is the Queen of Holland as a man. 

No! No, he's not! You take that back! He may be in some ways similar to her but he really isn't quite as bad ... - (For the record, I am aware that Lorel meant this as a compliment.)

He spoke to me a great deal about you, and in the midst of our conversation came the Queen, who was very glad that we had so soon renewed our acquaintance; then, taking me aside, she said to me: "You know that we are all Austrians at heart; but you would never guess that my brother had the courage to advise the Emperor to ask for your Archduchess!" 

I bet Lorel never would have guessed. Neither would have Eugène, most likely. In truth, he was probably there on explicit orders from his stepfather to sound out Madame Metternich if her husband might be ready to hand over some archduchess to be married by a French emperor.

Napoleon: But be subtle! They must not take it for an actual request! You have to ask without actually asking the question, got it?

Eugène: [stares at Napoleon blankly]

Napoleon: You know what, let your mother and sister do the talking.

I had not yet recovered from my astonishment, when the Empress entered, and after telling me of all the events which had just happened, and of all that she had suffered, [...]

... and after Eugène and Hortense had interrupted her lengthy sermon on that topic and had reminded her that there was something else Josephine really, really wanted to talk to Madame Metternich about, ...

[...] she said to me: "I have a project which occupies me exclusively, and the success of which alone gives me hope that the sacrifice I have just made will not be in vain; it is that the Emperor should marry your Archduchess; I spoke to him about it yesterday, and he told me that his choice is not yet fixed; but," she added, "I believe that it would be, if he were sure of being accepted by you." I told her all I could to prove to her that, for me individually, I would regard this marriage as a great happiness; but I could not refrain from adding that, for an Archduchess of Austria, it might be painful to come and settle in France. She always said: "We must try to arrange this", and then she was sorry that you were not here. "Your Emperor must be made to consider that his ruin and that of his country is certain if he does not consent, [...]

Ah, the napoleonic approach to negotiations. Always start with a threat.

[...] and this is perhaps also the only way of preventing the Emperor from making a schism with the Holy See."

Religion, that'd be good, right? Your're all quite catholic in Austria, right? Imagine if you could save the Pope!

She told me that the Emperor was to lunch at her house today, and that she would then let me know something more positive. - At this moment I receive a note from Cochelet, [...]

Louise Cochelet, one of Hortense's ladies and chief intriguer in her household.

[...] who tells me that the Queen is expecting me tomorrow morning; we shall have to see what she has to say to me.

Probably added some time later:

I have not seen the Queen of Holland again, because she is ill. I therefore have nothing positive to tell you about the affair in question; but if I wanted to tell you about all the honours with which I was showered, I would not come to an end soon. At the last circle, I played with the Emperor; [...]

Cards, I presume.

[...] you can well believe that it was no small affair for me, yet I came through it with glory. He began by praising me for my diamond headband and the timeless golden dress, and then he asked me a lot of questions about my family and all my relatives; he absolutely wanted, in spite of everything I could tell him, that Louis Kaunitz was my brother.

Look, if Napoleon says that this young man is your brother, you better inform your parents to adopt the guy. Easier than trying to convince Napoleon of the opposite. (In truth, Kaunitz was a cousin.)

You cannot believe the effect of this game; when it was over, I was surrounded and courted by all the great dignitaries, Marshals, Ministers, etc. I had enough to make me happy. I had plenty of opportunity to make philosophical reflections on the vicissitudes of human affairs.

Court life really must be something special.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Favorite Louis Moments

So... have I ever told you guys that Louis is my favorite character in TWDG? No? I didn’t have to? You could tell by the everything that is my blog that he’s my favorite? 

Well your deduction skills are great because it’s true-- Louis is, indeed, my favorite character and after all the nonsense going on with last week’s T5F, I wanted to talk about my boy to get that salty taste outta my mouth, y’know? 

I want to talk about some of my favorite Louis moments from The Final Season, and in turn, about why I love him so much.... also this challenge of giving myself only 5 moments was just cruel and I struggled because I love nearly every Louis moment. I had to narrow it down to the favorite moments where I believe his development as a character were at its greatest, because that’s something I love about him-- his growth through the season. 

Wanna give a quick shoutout @pi-creates​ for letting me use some screenshots for this post! I’m also doing a bit of a collab with Pi and a few others for this T5F. I thought it would be fun if they did some lists for other characters! I’ll update this post with links to their Top 5′s as they come out. :D

Pi’s Top 5 Aasim Moments @kaylee-wolf’s Top 5 James Moments @taurusicorn2400′s Top 5 Favorite Things About Violet  @akemi-rose578′s Top 5 Favorite Ruby Moments

5. Appealing to Louis

I won’t spend too much time on this one because I talked about this entire scene in great detail in my Marlon character study, but I do truly love everything about it. 

When you appeal to Louis, he’s pretty insistent about staying out of it... even though you can tell this whole situation is hurting him. With Marlon still having a grip on him, Louis feels like he has to side with Marlon because he’s his best friend, he’s always had his back, he’s gotta trust him... Marlon wouldn’t kill Brody like that, it just doesn’t make sense, right? 

Add that on top of the fact that Louis is already established as “Marlon’s lap dog,” as Aasim puts it, and Marlon himself even implies that Louis is irresponsible and doesn’t ever step up.

So to have Louis instinctively puts his hands up like “Oh no, no, noooo I am not involved! Sorry, I like ya Clem but yeah, you’re on your own.... sorry,” makes sense with how he’s established, and you as Clementine have to sway him to your side by giving him some much needed courage and a chance to break from Marlon’s control to do the right thing, which is executed super well. 

My personal favorite choice is to ask Louis if he’s really going to just let Marlon shoot me just so that he doesn’t want to get involved. You can see from his body language and facial expressions that Clementine’s words struck a nerve... he doesn’t want that to happen, that he doesn’t want Marlon to murder Clementine like this, and that he knows this is all wrong. 

Also, Clementine’s “I thought you were more than that” is just.... so good. When you consider his entire arc... as far as we know, this is the first time someone has said something like that to Louis and it shows.

So he tries to talk to Marlon the first time, and Marlon intimidates and manipulates him to where you believe he’s not going to help you... and I love it. I love the way this is shot where Louis, with his hands up, slips right in front of Clementine and talks Marlon down. He sees that Marlon has a damn gun pointed at him, but he puts himself in danger to protect Clementine [and Marlon, in a way]... someone he doesn’t know that well, and he even walks towards Marlon while the gun is still pointed at him to protect her and those around him. 

There’s also the other bits where Louis tries to be reassuring to Marlon, that they’re gonna help him out, that they’re all they got, that Marlon wasn’t always pathetic.... which that last one prompts the “Yeah I was, you’re just the only one who didn’t see it,” and that’s... a whole thing. 

This is the first glimpse of growth we see with Louis and I love it. 

4. The talk in the dorms

Okay... this scene. 

I love this scene... obviously. One of my favorite’s from Ep2. After AJ is patched up and recovering in the dorms, Louis comes by to bring AJ some new clothes since his got torn up from Abel’s magic shotgun. 

At this point, we already know that Louis is dealing with a lot of shit-- his best friend of 8+ years was murdered right in front of him, he’s traumatized, mourning, and hurting buuuuuut most of the Ericson crew don’t seem to care that he’s going through this. Violet keeps invalidating this pain and calling him a shithead while talking shit about Marlon right in front of him without any care. Mitch acts like Louis should be more aggressive because he was Marlon’s best friend, which results in Louis feeling even shittier. 

He doesn’t know what to do about Clementine and AJ, all he knows is that them being there makes everything feel worse and he’s scared... AND on top of that, he just learned what Marlon was really like, Brody did indeed die because Marlon hit her, the twins might be alive because Marlon traded them away, AND there are asshole raiders coming to kidnap and/or murder them.

AND because he took part in the vote that got Clementine and AJ kicked out and insisted they follow through, AJ ended up getting shot by Abel’s magic shotgun and could’ve died... and Louis feels responsible for that, but he’s conflicted because this kid literally murdered his best friend that’s why they were kicked out in the first place. 

Also, presumably, he’s dealing with all this by himself. 

Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still functioning because that’s a lot. 

Despite all that, he still sticks with Ruby in helping patch AJ up, and is thoughtful enough to bring him new clothes so he’s more comfortable. It says a lot about him, y’know? He’s still hurting, he’s still angry, but he doesn’t hate Clementine and AJ for what happened. He never did, he just didn’t know what to do. He’s still processing what happened and sorting out his feelings. 

Oh and then the talk with Clementine... okay, I love the talk. 

It’s quiet, sincere, and emotional. Clementine kinda begins to pry about whether or not he’s okay with them staying after AJ gets better and the raiders are taken care of, and he avoids giving her a straight answer until she pushes, to which he answers with an honest, “I don’t know, Clementine.” 

Then AJ wakes up, and I love the way Louis responds to AJ asking if they’re friends again. He doesn’t lie to make AJ feel better, but he’s not a jerk about it. 

And finally, we get the final dialogue prompt with him. I usually tell him I really missed him, to which he responds with, “Missed you, too. Goodnight.” and I just... it’s so good. 

Honestly, Louis could’ve turned into a real bitch and not bothered, he could’ve remained angry and took every opportunity to remind Clem and AJ of how terrible they are... I can think of plenty characters that would’ve done that in his situation, but that’s not Louis. He’s not that kind of person... which is interesting when you consider his backstory and what landed him at Ericson in the first place. He’s seen what that kind of resentment, no matter how great, can lead to. 

Overall, one of the best moments in his character development. 

3. Louis opening up to Clementine in the music room

Oh, where to begin?

First off, not gonna gush too much about the clouis because this is a list focusing on Louis, not necessarily his romance with Clementine... I’ll only bring it up when it pertains to his character development, y’know?  Second, not gonna get into the poor lead up to this scene where the writers dropped the ball with the ‘go with Violet to protect the school vs screw around with Louis and probably die’ thing. That’s a topic for another day. Just talking about the scene itself. 

Because this moment is so damn good. Honestly, these last three entries I could probably do entire posts picking them apart and analyzing everything but we don’t wanna be here for hours so I’ll try to condense it the best I can. 

So Louis invites Clementine to the music room because he needs up with a project. Clementine enters to find him playing a song that he wrote, and they have a fun conversation. Right off the bat, we get Clementine mentioning that they haven’t heard any music for a while [implying that Louis hasn’t been playing] and Louis responds with, “Some say you’re not about to hear it now.” which we all know is him trying to make light of people telling him he doesn’t have any music talent and like.... his face. The way it falls as the music goes from cheery to sad. The way Clementine looks at him. 

I talk about Louis having a wall around him a lot. Well, that’s because he does. It’s the irony thing where the happy, loud, funny character is actually putting that on as a façade because they’re hiding behind a wall too scared to let anyone in because it’s either bit them in the ass before or no one has bothered to ever take them seriously anyway or a number of other reasons. 

Louis seems to let that wall down for little bits at a time without realizing it, then when he does, it shoots right back up. A great example of this is in ep1 when he and Clementine talk in the woods. The shift is obvious, and here he’s still doing it. 

He turns around and asks Clementine how they feel about their imminent deaths in a jokey tone. My favorite thing to do is here is remain silent. When you do that, he becomes serious again and in a soft voice, he tells Clementine that he’s here for her. 

I find this whole sections of the scene, including the tuning the piano part, so interesting because it’s him testing the waters with Clementine, if you will. He’s inching the wall down until they’re both sitting comfortably at the piano when he begins to play his song for her. They mark the piano, and I think that seals it for him that they’re here together, that Clementine isn’t like the others who have never taken him seriously or never bother to look below the surface. 

So, he takes a chance and fully brings the wall down, opening himself up to her as he thanks her for being there with him, even after everything. 

Like... Louis is just so aware of people’s perceptions of him. This is a discussion that I’ve had with people before where Louis is very much a people person in the way that he’s not just charismatic, he’s observant, too.

Anyway, you can have Clementine confess she has romantic feelings for him, establishing them as a couple, or you can remain friends but now you’re super best friends. You know me, I go the romance route because clouis. 

I do wanna point out that Louis does have romantic feelings for Clementine no matter what you pick, but if you do wish to remain friends, he’s incredibly respectful of that. There’s no bitterness, there’s no pushing. He’s maybe a little sad for two seconds before he realizes that he has a new [and probably better] best friend and embraces it. He’s just happy to have Clementine at his side.

As for the romance, I will never get over his reaction to Clementine confessing. His face? So good. Then he becomes so giddy talking about how he was hoping Clementine felt that way and “Holy shit, it’s me!” 

Then he names the song he wrote after her and they smooch~!

uhh sorry, said I wasn’t gonna gush about clouis but can’t help it... and hey, in my defense, it does pertain to his development because this relationship influences him greatly. 

What else can I say? It’s fucking great. 

2. Louis finally shares something from his past & plays Don’t Be Afraid

Yeah I’m combining them, they go hand in hand okay. 

Listen.... like I said before, I could write an entire analysis of Louis in this scene, but I’m gonna reel it in. 

We finally get the reason Louis was sent to Ericson in the first place-- he was stupid rich with parents who gave him whatever he wanted except singing lessons, and being the spoiled child he was he didn’t take kindly to that... so he broke into his father’s credit card accounts and faked an affair in order to break up his parents marriage, and then when it was all said and done, he threw his fathers words back in his face.

Like.... I’m pretty fucking sure not a single one of us thought this was going to be the case when it came to Louis giving us his backstory.  

He finally puts it all out there and now Clementine knows what kind of person he was before he arrived at the school, what he was capable of before she met him. That wall is gone.

But this is what I was talking about before. Louis knows first hand what can happen when feelings go unchecked, when resentment is held onto, when you don’t apologize or try to repair mendable relationships, when you’re vindictive and bitter and take it out on others. He’s been there and now he’s here, and he holds a lot of that with him. You can see he does in the way he talks about himself and struggles with confidence in his abilities. 

I also love the line he says when you remain silent about how he doesn’t even know the person he’s talking about, how it’s like the only thing they share is the same name. He then goes on to say that Clementine should know who she’s riding into battle, which I’ve always seen as his way of telling her she should know who he really is, good and bad, before she puts anymore effort, faith, love, etc. into him and their relationship. 

Then there’s the song. 

Tenn asks Louis if he can play Don’t Be Afraid for them, a song that he composed with Minerva back before she was taken by the delta, and it’s my favorite version. 

Just the way he looks at Clementine before he starts and she gives him a small reassurance before he starts, and he fucking dedicates the song to Minnie... who is going to try to kill him later and that’s a whole thing, but it’s still a sweet sentiment. 

Then the song plays and it’s that calm before the storm moment, y’know? Like, everyone is sitting there listening to him play this beautiful song while realizing that shit’s going down soon and this might be the last happy moment they get.... and then as he’s playing, Louis looks over at AJ’s drawing of Violet, Aasim, and Omar and just.... his expression. 

Also, he looks up at the ceiling as he’s playing and given how glossy his eyes look at the end of the song.... you know he was trying to hold it together. And that last look he and Clementine share? ugh.... it hurts my heart. 

I adore this scene.... We finally got something about Louis’ past, which is something he hardly shares up to this point. Anything shared is minor, like how he used to play baseball or he hates cantaloupe.... but nothing major, y’know? So good. 

1. The walk back to Ericson

This is it. 

When it comes to Louis’ development as a character, this is it. Let me tell you about this moment because oh my god.

To start things off, Louis gets back to the school with everyone and then alone decides he’s gonna go look for Clementine, AJ, and Tenn. Which I don’t know if that’s something he would’ve done in ep1, at least he wouldn’t’ve gone alone. This to me says that he got back, made sure everyone was taken care of based on his comment about Violet’s eyes, and then set off on his own to look for them. 

Then we get the cute clouis, Louis celebrates victory a little too early, and they begin their walk about to the school... and it starts off so quiet. He and Clementine steal glances at each other before Louis brings up Dorian. Y’know, the woman he killed. 

We learn that it’s his first human kill ever.... in the 8+ years of the apocalypse, Louis has never had to do that and it’s one of the things he was so scared off. We were supposed to get a bit about that during the party but y’know, it was cut for budget reasons.... which is lame but you can figure it out from his behavior before they snuck onto the boat anyway.

It’s a great talk between them. I usually tell him that it’ll get easier, and he acknowledges that it’s fucked up, but he believes it will get easier and he’s just glad he has it in him at all. He tells Clementine that having a home means protecting it, he shares some things about his past, and then he and Clementine talk about a dream house together. 

And this.... THIS. Okay look. Listen. I know people give Louis shit for how he behaves in ep1. You don’t have to go far before you see people writing him off as lazy, irresponsible, blah blah blah..... and like, I think people forget that character growth is a thing? That a character usually starts out flawed and over the course of a story, they change? for better or worse? 

I’m perfectly okay with Louis being portrayed as irresponsible and carefree and whatnot because from that point he grows. 

Remember what he said in ep1? He says he prefers to think of survival as a day-to-day task, he says that the future doesn’t exist and there’s only today, that the only thing anyone has is this moment. 

Louis didn’t look at the future because he didn’t care, or rather, it wasn’t a priority for him. He slacked off because he turned away from responsibility when Marlon needed him, and while I don’t disagree with his view of appreciating the now, I do believe the future should be considered. 

Now compare that to Louis in ep5. 

That whole conversation is Louis telling Clementine he wants a future with her and the rest of Ericson, and while maybe they can’t build that 914-floor purple mansion, they can still try.... they can still create a home together. I think he still believes his this moment talk, but has a better grasp of what he really wants, y’know? 

His whole journey when you stick with him is just.... so good. It’s not perfect, I mean y’all know that I have my issues with how some things were done, but Louis’ development as a character is one of the greatest accomplishments in TFS. 

Also, Louis lost the 4th grade spelling bee because of “recommend” and he had a pet turtle named Geoff. My patience has been rewarded and I know more about his backstory. 

I don’t even know what else to say? It’s #1 for a reason? Because it’s a great showcase for how far he’s come? and I love him so much? Seriously this scene is so good? 

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Honorable Mentions

-Louis’ introduction in the music room. It’s a classic fave.  -The walker piñata moment where Louis lets his guard down around Clementine to tell her his view point on survival. -The archery moment where Louis apologizes to Clementine and opens up a bit about Marlon. -The card games. Both of them. He’s great. -Everything in the dorms in ep3. -y’know what? Just everything that isn’t the cell scene okay? 90% of Louis scenes get honorable mentions. 

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So there we go. There’s all my gushing about Louis. Could do it for much longer, but I don’t think we wanna be here for hours. So, what are your thoughts? Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat about muh boy. 

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

—

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Reasons Doug Was Pretty Great

[girlactionfigure]

Righteous Among the Nations  People's Republic of China

Pan Jun-Shun Pan Junshun (1889 – 1974), was the first Chinese national to be awarded the title Righteous Among the Nations for hiding and sheltering a Ukrainian Jewish girl during the occupation of part of the Soviet Union during World War II. Pan Jun Shun moved to Russia in 1916 looking for work. He settled in Moscow where he found work as a laborer. As an enthusiastic communist, he decided to stay in the USSR. He married and had two sons while living in Moscow, after which he moved to Kharkov, Ukraine in 1936. His wife died before the outbreak of World War II His two sons were drafted into the Red Army at the beginning of the war; they never returned home and were presumed to have been killed during the war. He survived the war and continued to live there until his death in 1974. Pan Jun Shun provided shelter and hiding for Ludmilla Genrichovna, a Ukrainian Jewish girl who had escaped from a detention area set up by the occupying German Army. She escaped through the efforts of her mother who realized that her children were likely to be killed as they were being transferred to another town.

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Salvadoran Savior of Thousands of Jews During Holocaust Honored by Germany

Jose Arturo Castellanos saved at least 25,000 from the Nazis during World War II by issuing them false identity papers. An army colonel and diplomat from El Salvador who helped save tens of thousands of Jews from Nazi persecution during World War II by providing them with false Salvadoran identity papers was honored in Germany.

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Knud Christiansen was a Danish rower who competed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. His greatest feat, however, was preventing the mass murder of Denmark’s 7,000 Jews on Rosh Hashanah, 1943. Because of his fame and athletic connections, Knud learned of an SS plan to round up all Danish Jews in one mass action during their holy day. Knud coordinated with a large network of friends and associates to hide Jews in every spot available, including his own home. Starting shortly before Rosh Hashanah, the network hid fugitive Jews in farmhouses, churches, city apartments, and more. Then, during October, November, and December, Knud used his Olympic rowing skills to ferry one Jew at a time across the Øresund Strait. Eventually, the resistance used larger fishing boats to rescue greater numbers of Jews on each trip. Knud’s entire family participated in the effort: his mother, father-in-law, younger brother and wife were all involved in resistance work. His wife Karen also published a German language newspaper targeted at Wehrmacht officers. Her writing chronicled SS atrocities against the Jews, as reported in BBC broadcasts. As a result, many German officers stationed in Denmark looked the other way as the Danish people worked together to save the nation’s Jews. Knud and Karen immigrated to America with their children in 1970. Karen died in 1992. In 2005, they were honored as "Righteous Among the Nations" by Yad Vashem in Jerusalem. Knud died at the age of 97 in 2012. ------

The man who saved 669 lives

Sir Nicholas Winton, was invited to a TV show and, there, everybody stood up for him, but he had no clue why everybody stood up. He had a secret which he kept hidden for last 50 years. Even his wife didn’t know about this until she found his book in the attic.

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Chilean diplomat who saved over 1,200 Jews honored as Righteous Among the Nations

A Chilean diplomat was honored as a Righteous Among the Nations for saving more than 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust. Samuel del Campo, who served as chargé d’affaires at the Chilean embassy in Bucharest, Romania, was honored Sunday at the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem.

A relative of Del Campo received a medal and certificate of honor from Yad Vashem officials during the ceremony, which was attended by Milenko Skoknic, director general of the Chilean Ministry of Foreign Affairs.Del Campo began to issue Chilean passports for Jews of Polish nationality in October 1941, when a ghetto was established in the city of Czernowitz, and deportations to ghettos and camps in Transnistria began. Members of the Kiesler family of Czernowitz and the Rosenthal family from Bucharest were saved by Del Campo.After the deportations from Czernowitz to Transnistria resumed in June 1942, Del Campo continued to intervene with the Romanian authorities in favor of “the Jews under the protection of Chile.”Based on recorded minutes from discussions in the Council of Ministers of Romania, Yad Vashem was able to estimate that approximately 1,200 Jews received Chilean passports providing them with protection against the deportations. The documents that Del Campo issued were not in line with the Chilean government’s policy. He died in Paris in the 1960s.

Samuel del Campo is one of just two Chilean Righteous Among the Nations recognized by Yad Vashem.via jta . October 22, 2017

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Righteous Among the Nations 

 Ireland

Mary Elmes

Mary Elisabeth Elmes was born in Cork, Ireland, in 1909. When the Spanish Civil War broke out she decided to go to Spain, where she was involved in humanitarian aid as part of a Quaker organization, the American Friends Service Committee.

In 1939 she joined the Republican refugees who fled to France, and became responsible for all Quaker activity in Perpignan.

The Fall of France in 1940 resulted in great challenges for the relief workers. With her staff significantly reduced - the British workers on her team were now enemy aliens and had to leave the country - Elmes had to face the growing plight of Jewish refugees who were interned in detention camps in the Pyrenees region.

Elmes joined forces with the Jewish OSE organization and especially with Dr. Joseph Weill and Andrée Salomon, who were active in the rescue of Jews.

Until mid-August 1942 children could be legally released from the camps, but on August 11 deportations of Jews from the camp of Rivesaltes began, first to Drancy near Paris, and from there to Auschwitz.

From that time until the camp closed on 25 November 1942, the authorities no longer released children from the camp. Elmes was fully aware of the meaning of the deportations.

Lois Gunden (an American Mennonite who was recognized as Righteous Among the Nations in 2012 for rescuing children in the same region) wrote in her journal: "Mary informed me about the return of Polish and German Jews to Poland where death and starvation awaits them".

Braving the danger, Elmes and her Jewish colleagues smuggled children out of the camp and brought them to safe places.

Two of the children rescued by Mary Elisabeth Elmes were Ronald Freund (today Friend) and his brother Michael.

Their parents, Drs. Hans and Eva Freund fled from Germany to Italy when Hitler came to power in 1933. They lived in Milan, where their son Michael was born in 1936.

When the anti-Jewish laws were enacted in Italy, the family fled to France and settled in Paris. When Germany invaded France, they fled once again, this time to the South of France.

In 1942 they tried to flee to Switzerland but failed; and on 4 September 1942 they were interned in the camp of Rivesaltes. According to a letter Mary Elmes wrote to the American Friends Service Committee in Marseille, she convinced Dr. Freund to take the two children out of the camp.

"He has signed the necessary discharge, confiding the children to our care". Michael and Ronald were taken to a children's home in Vernet les Bains and then to the St. Louis Hospital in Perpignan.

Hans Freund was deported to Majdanek on 4 March 1943, where he perished. The mother survived the war and was reunited with her sons after liberation.

In February 1943 Mary Elmes was arrested by the authorities because of her resistance to the German occupiers and the Vichy government.

She was first held in Toulouse, and later taken to Fresnes prison on the outskirts of Paris. She was nevertheless released six months after her arrest. She continued her humanitarian work until the end of the war and the liberation of France. She lived in France until she passed away in 2003.

May their memories be a blessing.

Documenting Anti-Semitism

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 4. Him

‘be gentle my little thunderstorm, the world is just not ready.’ a.j. lawless

The day we had tea with the Cambridges ended the same way many before: with Lourdes sending a video of her ice skating routine asking for my opinion; that time I didn’t even pretend to see it. I ignored the text and tried to sleep. 

Louis barged into the room soon after.

“Will you stop ignoring our sister?”, he asked, rudely. “She notices, Maggie. And it’s really unfair.”

“Okay.” I said. “Goodnight.”

I heard him sigh, and nothing else. No steps out of the room, no creaky Clarence House door closing, no light down. Finally, I pushed away the cover and sat up.

“I can’t do this now, Louis. I have a headache.”

I’d come up with the headache excuse in order to skip dinner with the Prince of Wales and his wife, but my brother knew that excuse better than anyone. 

After leaving the Cambridges, we had gone back to Clarence House, where we were hosted for the trip, and changed into black attire for a military ceremony in town where I managed to avoid my brother to try and focus on being less upset. He wasn’t about to make it easy for me, though.

At one point, Harry came to stay in line with us as my father and Prince Charles received the compliments from the officials. He gave me that look of his I was now coming to identify as a signature look, one with more intentions than verbalized; one with more feeling than was allowed. 

“Nice dress.” He said. Leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, close enough that his lips brushed my hair and couldn’t be read by prying reporters, he added, “The person wearing it is prettier.”

It took all in me to contain an eyeroll, but the amused smile in my lips was impossible to hold back. Just as I felt my cheeks redden, Louis joined in.

“It’s probably our mother’s. The shoes definitely are.”

It wasn’t a dig for the untrained ears. My mother, in all ways, was more stylish and beautiful than a woman her age should be allowed to be. But knowing my brother for all the twenty-two years he’d been on this earth, I knew very well how to distinguish his honest compliments to his sarcastic ones.

Still, the moment passed, and I maintained the posture expected of me. Coming home, however, I had to tell my father I had a headache so I could come right upstairs before dinner, or else I might lose it in public. 

I had a nice, warm shower, put on my softest fleece pajamas, and brushed my hair while talking to my friend Constance on the phone about our other friend Stella and her terrible taste in men, allowing it to distract me from my brother and wild, unruly thoughts of Harry. 

After that, I got under the blankets and prepared to stare at funny pictures on pinterest - an app I had a fake, incognito account on - until sleep took over. I promptly ignored my sister’s text, as I was known to do, and not ten minutes later Louis barged into the room.

I finally heard the door close, and was overtaken by a familiar struggle against tears, but before I could decide if I should succumb to it, the mattress dipped as my brother climbed onto bed with me. A few seconds went by in silence before he finally broke it.

“Look. Maggie. I… I was talking to Will earlier.”

“Prince William?”

“Oui. I guess I just… I didn’t realize- of course I knew you were helping a lot back home. I just didn’t think it bothered you so much.”

I took it in; he was… almost apologizing.

“Well, now you know.”

“Yes, I do. And, I don’t know, I just…”

I pushed the blankets down and sat up, still not looking over at him, but allowing myself to be in the moment as well.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

I sighed, and finally looked over at him. 

My brother didn’t look too young or old, he had that odd quality of looking precisely his age. He had a light stubble growing around his thin, pointy jaw; it was the same color as his hair, blonde, which was now growing almost to his ears. It waved about, framing his eyes, a nice, dark blue shade just like mine - Lourdes had them too, all three of us had inherited them from our mother. The blonde hair we got from dad’s side of the family, as well as an unwavering determination.

“I’m not unhappy, Lou. I just… I could be happier, I suppose.”

He nodded. “And I want you to be.”

Letting out a long breath, I attempted to also let go of the anger, and focus on what I knew for sure about Louis.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. No matter the signs, or how often he was told of the contrary, Louis was always decided to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was a trait we got from our mother, too, and I wasn’t sure what had made me slightly more cynical than him in this aspect, but I suspected it happened somewhere in Law School.

Louis wanted people to be happy, to excel. He wanted laughter and adventure and success for every person that crossed his path. I knew for a fact there was no way he would ever really wish the contrary, on anyone. I knew something else, too, something much more important.

I knew exactly why he was afraid to come home.

“I know you’re trying to figure things out.” I told him. “I don’t blame you. I know it’s tough.”

He nodded, slowly, and took in a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was wavering; barely a whisper.

“I’m not, though. Not anymore. I think you know that. I haven’t been figuring things out anymore. I’ve known, really known, for a while now.”

All thoughts of the fight forgotten, I felt my heart tighten on my chest. I looked at my little brother, shrunk down and resolute, sitting by my side in bed. He was staring off into the room, but I knew, somehow, he was perfectly aware of my every move.

“You’re sure?” My whisper matched his. I presumed my fear did too.

He sighed, gulped, and shut his eyes tight, before opening them again and smiling at me, scared.

“I’m in love with him.”

The words were new, but the sentiment wasn’t; Louis was fifteen the first time he told me he thought he might be gay. I remembered the day as if I had been replaying it in my mind at least once a month ever since, because it was accurate. 

It was summer; I was almost eighteen, fresh out of my secondary school graduation, but still a few weeks before my adult future. We had been spending summer with our grandparents at the place they lived after my grandfather abdicated as king, Haydell Castle, in the east coast of Savoy. The Castle sat on a hill overlooking the Atlantic, and Louis, myself and Lourdes would go to the beach most afternoons to play volleyball and tan. One late afternoon, Lourdes was applying finishing touches to a sandcastle she’d spent hours working on. Louis had been helping, but left her to get some water from the cooler near where I was laying, struggling to read a book on the darkening light of the fast approaching sunset. 

He sat down by my side with a thud, drank half a bottle of water as I complained about the sand he’d inadvertently thrown my way, and then, without looking at me, said, “I think I have a crush on a classmate.”

Louis went to an all-boys boarding school. The boy in question was a very handsome senior, with kind eyes and handsome dimples. My brother spent a while telling me about how he liked sports and theater and wanted to backpack through South America after school. Then we spent the rest of the summer brainstorming what this could mean.

Monarchies weren’t built on diversity. The core of the system our family was built on was genetics and catholicism, two elements that were famously not very lenient. The Royal Family of Savoy had branched out from the French Royal Family many generations ago. Though we prided ourselves, then and now, that we were different, we still inherited some very big elements from them. A few tiaras, a few titles, and Catholicism. Though Savoy had freedom of religion, the monarchy’s official creed was still Catholicism. It was involved in most of our protocols and traditions, a king couldn’t even be crowned if he hadn’t been baptised in the church. 

The idea of a gay, catholic King of Savoy was ludicrous even to us, no matter how much we wished it wasn’t.

And then, there was the issue of the line of succession. Say the church and country allowed my brother to reign as an out gay man, say they allowed him to marry a man in the Catholic church, say they allowed him to be crowned as king with a prince consort… It would be his duty to secure the line of succession; a king’s job is to produce a child to be the next king whose child will be next after him, and so on. Though it was the 21st century, there was no precedent to a king’s heir being anything other than his own, biologic child. And even as we tried to consider the idea of my brother having one with an egg donor, using a surrogate, we immediately knew what that would mean: whoever this woman was, her privacy would never be respected. People would want to know everything about her. 

As to adopting, what were his options? In what world would the press not hunt down every possible information about the child’s biological family? Interview every distant relative for money? Come up with every way to embarrass them for clicks on an article? How could that child possibly be raised to be king with that kind of scrutiny surrounding them? 

I thought of it as we sat in silence. He loved Peter. Peter loved him. And yes, they were young and that might change, but Louis being gay wouldn’t. Louis wanting to be a father was unlikely to change. But there was no precedent for a king to have an adopted child as an heir, and having a biological child through surrogate would be too hard on a surrogate and her family, being harassed and forever linked to us. If he sacrificed his own wishes and decided not to have children in order to spare them, then me or my children would have to inherit, which to me was simply unthinkable.

“They’re not going to cut you out.” I told him. “You know mom and dad, they love you. They love us. It might be hard dealing with everyone else, but they’ll always support you.”

He gulped. “The thing is… they might love me, but that’s not enough to change centuries of tradition just so I can-”

“Be who you are!”

He was silent, pulling on a lose thread on the blanket.

“I suppose I could just do what they did back in the day.” He considered. “Marry some poor, naive girl, sleep with her just enough to produce an heir and make Peter my secretary so we can carry out a scandalous and secret affair.”

I gave him a sarcastic look, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” He started biting a nail. “I could just… not have children.”

“You want children.”

“...yeah.”

“We’ll think of something.” I told him, confidently. “It’ll be easier once mom and dad know. They’ll figure something out. They’re good at this. They’re not going to make you keep this a secret, they love you too much.”

He sighed. “It would be easier for me to abdicate.”

“That’s not happening!”

“Why?! Because you can’t fathom the idea of having to inherit?! You think it’s okay to put me or my children through hell so you can hold on to your comfort? Who’s being selfish now?!”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

“That’s not fair.” I wasn’t even sure the words had come out, so low was my volume and so loud my shock.

He reached out and held my hand in his, leaning over to lay his head on my shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I laid my cheek against his hair, holding his hand tightly. 

The worst part was knowing he was right. As unfair as it was, the easiest path was for him to come out and simply not have kids. But I didn’t want the headache of figuring out how to raise children to inherit after him, or worse yet, to have to be the heir if he was made to abdicate. It was such a colossal thought I couldn’t even think of it too much without feeling a panic attack creeping in.

He was 22. My little brother shouldn’t even be concerned about children at this age. And yet, because of the backwards traditions we were embroiled in from birth, he had no choice, and all our lives depended on how accepting the world would be of who he was.

“Hey.” I called, and he raised his head to look at me. “We will figure it out. I promise.” 

His smile was so small it broke my heart even more. He didn’t say anything, though. He just nodded, slowly, and stared at his hands.

“I love Peter.” I said, tentatively. I had said it before, but it carried a different weight now. Louis’ smile grew. 

“I want to introduce him to Lou. She didn’t come that time you met him, I think they’ll get along.”

I bumped my shoulder to his. “Just tell him to compliment her skating, she’ll love him.”

He chuckled, then looked at me very seriously. “Speaking of our sister, you could be more patient with her, you know?”

I sighed. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Patient would be watching her videos and offering useful advice.”

“You’re asking too much.”

“I can do it, so can you! You think I care about ice skating?”

“Kinda.”

“Well… okay, I do. But they wear really sparkly dresses. Honestly, Maggie, she just wants to make you proud.”

“I don’t…!” I sighed, “I don’t really know how to talk to her, sometimes. I only had a couple of years with her before going to boarding school, you at least got to see her more often.”

He fished into his pockets, found his phone and opened the messaging app. I watched him create a group, add both me and Lourdes to it, name it ‘Louis’ Girl Gang’, and send the message, ‘this way it’s easier to chat!’.

“This way you can just watch how I interact with her and mimic.” He said. “Just react like me and soon you’ll be able to do it yourself.”

I opened my phone and replied, ‘this chat name is ridiculous’.

“Ouch.” He said, emotionless.

I gave him a dirty look, and we laughed. Both our phones buzzed at the same time with Lourdes’ reply, the first of many.

‘yay i love this! miss u guys!’

I smiled. She was too sweet for her own good. 

I had no idea what the future held for us, but I knew with one hundred percent certainty I loved every single atom of my siblings.

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

The drive to the polo club the following morning - our last one in Britain - wasn’t long, but we had to leave early enough that I had to do my makeup in the car. Did I need makeup to play polo? No. But would the press comment on how ‘tired’ I looked if I didn’t? Yes, so shaky hands on a tiny mirror it was.

Harry and William were already at the club when we got there; we were introduced to the horses we were using that morning, and the rest of the people who would be playing. There was a small breakfast laid out, with mimosas and champagne flutes, which we ate as we made some small talk and got to know everyone. 

“So,” Harry started, finding me alone by the water jugs.

“So.” I replied.

“I’ve been doing some googling.” 

“Yes?”

He sighed. “And I cannot, for the life of me, figure out when we may have met.”

“Oh.” I smiled.

I had started to think he’d forgotten it, or worse, simply didn’t care. But apparently he did. He cared enough to look it up.

The thought felt… oddly warm.

“I asked my people. And then I asked my people to ask your people, who weren’t able, or willing, to come up with an answer. So I do not know, for the life of me, when we may have met before two days ago.”

I nodded, smiling slightly. “Your efforts are noted.”

“Look, I feel like a jerk.” He sighed. “I’m sure I would remember you if we met before. You have a face a guy would remember.”

I swallowed the electric shock that line sent through me. “Apparently not.”

“Give me a hint. Was it here or in Savoy? Or another country? Day or night? Was it more than a year ago?”

I looked at him, brows raised. “It was in another country, during the day, more than a year ago.”

He nodded, attentive, scratching his beard. Then, he sighed dramatically. “God, I have no idea!”

“So you give up?”

He grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. It’s a question.”

He stared into my eyes for a beat, as his smile grew.

“No, I don’t give up. I’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, silently, holding his stare.

I suddenly realized I didn’t have a plan. I hadn’t planned on making this a big deal, but now when I eventually had to tell him, we would both be faced with a story that wasn’t as interesting or sexy as we had made it sound.

“So, what are we thinking?!” My brother interrupted, joining us with William. “Heirs against spares?”

“What, and lose the chance to massacrate Harry on the field?” I challenged, as the ginger looked at me, mouth agape.

“Nice! I love the sentiment, Margueritte!” William cheered. “She’s on my team, dibs on Margueritte!”

“Excuse me, I believe I already have dibs on Mary.” Harry interjected, making his brother laugh.

The line was so unapologetically flirty I felt my jaw drop as I looked around. We were at a tent in the back, where the players were getting ready before being sorted into teams. There was no press around, but there was a lot of people who hadn’t signed NDAs or anything.

Louis was squinting at Harry with a mischievous grin on his lips. “Excuse me, are you flirting with my sister?”

I felt my stomach twirl in anxiety, and tried to give him a warning look, but before I could, Harry answered.

“I’ve been trying to, for the past three days.”

He was smiling at me now, again so unapologetically it felt as if I had lost all ability to function. William was watching the whole thing with an amused look on his eyes.

Louis’ grin grew into a smile, as he slowly moved his eyes from Harry to me, “Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”, Harry asked my brother.

“For me? No!” He assured him, “For you? Well…”

“She hasn’t exactly made it easy for me.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Louis-Adolphe!” I admonized, earning from him a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t use both my names as if you’re mom.”

William laughed.

“Any tips?” Harry asked Louis, very seriously, but looking at me as if studying an animal on the wild.

“Hm,” my brother considered him, “Patience. Her only relationship was with a family friend we’ve known all our lives, and that took forever.”

“Lou!” I warned, again.

“What?! It’s not like he can’t google you.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” I said, before turning on my heels to exit the tent.

I made myself busy elsewhere, but couldn’t keep my mind straight. My heart was racing and I couldn’t tell if the reason was Louis’ teasing or Harry’s unabashed flirting, or both. Before I knew it, though, we were stretching as a group, and getting our uniforms on; I did stay on William’s team, while Harry and Louis played together. 

He found me as we made our way into the field, while I was busy trying to tie the upper half of my hair on a low ponytail.

“Have I told you you look fantastic today, Mary?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll remedy that as soon as possible.”

“You look fantastic, Mary. White pants suit you.”

Harry’s eyes hovered down my body over my form-fitting white jeans under the black riding boots.

“Thank you.” I said, curt, and paced faster to my horse, starting to fasten the girth to adjust the saddle.

“...I’m sorry.”

I stopped, and looked back at him, only half surprised he was still there. A little more than half surprised by the genuine fear and sadness in his eyes. 

“Oh. For?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before, when I was talking to your brother. I was just… trying to lighten the mood. Be, you know, funny I guess.”

I gulped; funny?

“Right. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I resumed my work on the horse’s saddle.

I even added a short smile to go with the lie, but it didn’t seem to convince him.

“Really, I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

He took a quick step closer and wrapped my hand in his; I felt my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how big they were, his knuckles were protuberant, his veins popped against his pale skin. In a dark corner in my mind I wondered what hands like those might feel like on my body.

“Mary.” He whispered, softly; I gulped, not daring to meet his gaze. 

“Marie.” I whispered back.

He sighed. “Marie. If you want me to stop, and just… be your friend, or even just a polite acquaintance…” 

He allowed the end of his sentence to hang in the air, ominous; It felt horrifying, specially hearing him call me my actual name. It made me look back at him, meeting his eyes a lot closer than I thought they would be.

“...all you gotta do is say so.” He finished, finally. 

The offer sounded awfully simple for a feat that sounded amazingly difficult, though I couldn’t understand why. He was being so annoying, so infuriating for the past three days. It would be so easy to tell him to back off, if only it weren’t for that little part of my heart that was trying to tell me he wasn’t that annoying. And really, wasn’t the only frustrating thing about it that we had had so little time together? After all, his hand was still on mine, and it did feel like my whole body was warmer than the British sun on that morning warranted.

“What’s this?” I asked.

As I looked back to his hands, I noticed once more that he had something written in them. He turned his palm towards me, while the back of his hand still rested in mine.

“This says ‘call Gil’, it’s the manager of my foundation in Lesotho. I have to get back to him about something. And this other line says ‘figure out trip’. It’s my mate’s birthday next month and the lads asked me to figure out how we can organize a hunting trip for him.”

As he explained his little reminder list on his palm, I traced it with the tips of my fingers lightly. After I ran out of the ink to trace, I started tracing the lines in his palm, very slowly.

“Bad memory?” I teased.

He sighed, “The worst. Well, not about important things. I remember important things. But names of people I met only a couple times, but should definitely know? Nope. And the deadline to things I have to do? Even worse. Hence the writing in hand.”

“Have you tried setting alarms on your phone?”

“I barely know how to make calls.” He rolled his eyes.

“Drama queen!”

“I’m serious! We’re not allowed to use social media, so really what’s there to do? I just don’t use it much.”

“God, it’s like you’re 80.”

He chuckled, and his hand closed on reflex over mine. Now it was almost as if we were holding hands. The thought, the warmth of his skin on mine, sent a shock wave through my body.

“Come on, Harry, no flirting with the competition!” Louis called out as he rode by.

We chuckled, timidly.

“Things seem better, with Louis.” He commented. 

I smiled. “We talked.”

“Did he understand?”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s got a good heart. He’s young, but he’d never willingly do something to hurt anyone. It’s just…” I sighed, giving him a side glance. “He’s got… some stuff to figure out. And I wanna help as much as I can. I just… Can’t sacrifice myself for it. And I think he gets it.”

There was a pause, a more comfortable one this time, and next time he spoke, he had a whisper of a smile on his lips.

“You didn’t ask me to stop.” He whispered. I looked at him. 

“I guess I didn’t.”

We exchanged a smile, and just as I felt my cheeks redden at the long pause, his brother rode by already on his horse.

“Stop flirting with my player, Harry, get to your horse!”

We jumped, startled, but chuckled timidly as he rode away.

“So, how confident are you that you’re going to beat me?”, he asked.

“Oh, only about 89%.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Ninety-six, tops.”

He nodded, amused. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Loser buys dinner.”

I bit my inner lip to contain a smile. It almost sounded like he was asking me on a date. Was he asking me out on a date?

“I… I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Well, Savoy is, what? Four or five hours away by train?”

“Another one and a half to the city where I live.”

He nodded, then shrugged. “I can do that. What do you say?”

I placed a foot on the stirrup, and jumped up to take my seat on the saddle.

“Win first, Your Royal Highness. Then we’ll talk.”

“Game on, Mary.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! please let me know if you like it? I’m open to notes, suggestions, all of it =) just liking this chapter would really help me know!

I don’t know how to say this without spoiling a big plot point in the story, but to be fair it is sort of the main premise, so if you’d like not to be spoiled on plot points, maybe come back later? Cool. Let’s get to it.

When I first started writing this story, I hadn’t intended on Margueritte’s brother, Louis, to be such a big character. I expected his time with us would be… well, shorter, after all the main idea for this story starts with his - again, spoiler alert - death. But as I wrote a little of him, I I liked him so much, and I ended up writing more and more and soon it was really heartbreaking killing him. As you’ll soon find, Louis fits into a trope I didn’t intentionally set out to write: the kill your gays trope. I don’t want to go into details because that’s enough spoilers, but suffice to say mea culpa, and also I hope you’ll give me a chance to show I do have a bigger intention with this: one, monarchies are famously heteronormative. They essentially can’t survive otherwise, or so we are told. I have always wandered about this. We’ve all read the historical examples of homosexuality being swiftly repressed for the good of the succession line. As a modern royal, Margueritte will have to look this issue in the eyes, too. She’ll have to realize the role she plays in a system where for her family and its history to survive, some families cannot exist in their purest form, and she will struggle with not being able to tell the world the truth about her brother - since it is not her place - knowing this makes her an accomplice in rewriting history to fit her best purpose. 

Which choices she makes and which path she decided to take in this issue are something I’m excited to explore, as I honestly believe monarchies will have to have a solution for this at one point or another.

TL/DR: though this story adds to the kill your gays trope, which I know it’s problematic, I want to write about the way monarchies perpetuate heteronormativity and how they will have to find a way for all their members, regardless of sexuality or gender identity, to feel at home in the institution, and I intend to add more non-straight characters so delve into this issue.]

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

32. God Bless the Child

Previous || Word Count 7132

The next year was eventful for a tremendous amount of reasons.

First and foremost, Grace had a World Tour scheduled for the end of spring, entire summer, and beginning of fall. That meant that Hazel had the chance to travel, stuck with staff most of the time, or her mom the OTHER portion of time. She didn’t want to do that. Hazel liked seeing new things and traveling, even being around crowds of people, but she was going through puberty and often just wanted to chill with her friends or even by herself, to write poetry, maybe record some of her raps, and work on comics. Of course, Grace told her that if she could do that anywhere, it was in the tour bus.

Simon’s final book was going to be released in the summer, and he was going to begin working on the movie production for the (hopefully first and not only) film in the fall. Whether or not the studio would want to make more would depend on the success of this film, and the budget would be determined by what types of sales this last book made.

Grace was always going on about “an ecosystem,” a concept that one of her favorite influencers spoke about. Basically, she believed that whenever you had the chance to give people that you knew of/believed in a shot, you should do that. So, Simon wanted to get the studio in business with the tech company that he currently worked for, for numerous aspects of the production.

Simon already had multiple prototypes for animatronics and pointed plans for various aspects of this movie. A deal like that could really help the company (that he may or may not be staying at once he finished with this huge movie project), which also might be a situation in which he could be working on many of these things and get paid from his company as well, in the meantime for the work that fell under the studio’s umbrella. It would help all of them, and save money and trouble in other areas where he might have problems with CGI concerns and such.

Simon had been preparing for if Esmoroth took off big his entire life. He still had models at home, and years worth of world building, sketches, schematics, simulations, mini movies, files of programming for how various scenes looked in his mind.

These things being considered, whenever Simon put his and Grace’s schedules side by side at the beginning of the year to find opportunities and plan special events… well… They were not matching up very well. “I don’t like this Grace. I know that sometimes we take a few days apart, but our longest stint has been 2 weeks and 4 days… This calendar makes it look like we might see each other in increments of 6-8 weeks at a time, more than once and the fragments in between are…” He started breathing hard and she wrapped her arms around him from behind. He placed his hands over hers. “Okay. You’re right. We can do this.” She just smiled. She hadn’t said that, but that was basically what she wanted to convey. “Montanus’ arrival is scheduled for the 4th of July weekend.”

“Yeah. I’ll be flying out there. Are you coming?”

“Can’t. But, I’ll be there for the christening… which… you have a show the night before, so… Are you going to be there?”

“I’m planning on it. My show the night before is a few hours away, so I should be able to make it the next morning and still dash out to the next venue.”

“Sweet. Then, I’ll catch the show that night.”

“My period is that weekend.”

“Ugh. I mean… not that I don’t still love you then…”

“We both know why you’re here,” she said, chuckling.

“Because I can’t function outside of your divinity,” he replied, quicker than she was prepared for. He made note of all the spaces that he would have to possibly see her on this tour and started looking into the accommodations that he would need whenever he did.

.

Grace had hit after hit after hit on her album, her old original stuff was starting to receive a resurgence of streams and her pages were getting more traffic than her current team was able to handle some days. But, she simply reached out, within her ecosystem for others that might be able to join said team and make things flow better. Meanwhile, she didn’t get onto social media much. One of her problems with fully letting down her walls was the fact that surfing the Internet always made her have to take a look at how people viewed her. She had to start considering that no matter how well she did or how hard she tried, someone out there would have a problem with her, and because she was famous, it would be a lot of someones.

Hazel was online more with her work. She liked to enter freestyle challenges, submit her spoken word, publish her poems. She called her current brand of creativity “Doetry,” and she had a pretty increasingly large following. Simon usually helped to administrate, because Grace was never great at that type of thing and also because he didn’t trust Internet weirdos enough to not be involved.

She was going through things, but he never censored her or intruded. He monitored to make sure that nobody was making her life any harder than it had to be, being raised in NYC and the daughter of a very public figure, and also Simon, who was important enough, depending on who you asked… and he was getting to the point where he might reach notable fame.

May 19 was a Tuesday that year, so they would be spending the previous weekend celebrating Hazel’s birthday and her actual birthday would just be a school day that everyone on social media sent her birthday wishes on. Simon took time off to take Hazel, Lucy, Lindsay, Alex, Todd, and Louis to Grace for the weekend. The way that the schedule was set up, she wouldn’t have had the time to leave and come back and go to her next venue, but they would have the time to come to her. Hazel suggested that she just miss out, but Grace was NOT going to do that, especially with the year that Hazel had been having. So, she paid for Hazel’s friends to come with.

Simon found it fascinating that these kids’ parents were entrusting the children to him to get on a plane together, travel to another state, spend more than one night there, and fly them back home safely.

He supposed it was similar to a Scouts trip, or a school trip… but he was just the “parent” of another child. He wasn’t a scout leader or teacher. Then again, those were just people too, he guessed. He would NOT feel comfortable sending Hazel on a plane with any of these children’s parents, except for maybe Lucy’s.

But, Simon found that his old scouts instincts kicked in when being responsible for a group of kids, but this time around he had that nagging dad-like behavior that the past couple of years around Hazel had given him.

Being off for Hazel’s birthday, she arranged for them to have a spa day retreat. The kids and some of the staff were included in this, though not as advanced a day as Grace and Hazel. Whenever they met up and had their indulgences, Simon could barely keep his hands off of Grace. Hazel felt a little bit slighted.. It was HER birthday, after all. They didn’t have to be cozied up the whole time. Of course, Grace presumed she wanted to spend most of her time with her friends, and whenever they finished with cake and began listening to music and chilling, Grace and Simon left them with the Nanny so that they could have some alone time. Hazel aired her grievances to her friends. She hated that Grace was on tour. She hated that their home life was separated into different worlds that she had to board and unboard. Lindsay understood it perfectly. Her dad was sometimes not home for weeks or months. Sometimes, she didn’t see her mom (who actually lived with her) for days. Sometimes, whenever she did see her, the woman was busy with making appearances and performing shows, and she DIDN’T have a nanny. She just had to be at home by herself a lot. Whenever her dad was there, he’d have his friends over a lot. They would disrupt Lindsey’s quiet, but she would be grateful that she wasn’t alone. She would LOVE if her parents tried to include her in their worlds like Grace and Simon did with Hazel.

Lucy’s parents were usually there whenever she needed them, but they didn’t seem to be very happy. They were always together, but the only time that she saw them smile at each other or talk to each other was whenever they were out in public. Her father was a politician, and her mother was a public figure, simply for being his wife and being a good conservative wife who followed his guidelines. Lucy… didn’t care for any of it. She would’ve liked to just have two people who love each other like Grace and Simon seemed to.  

Hazel felt a little better, because apparently, she had pretty good parents. She also didn’t feel a little better, because she still felt dissatisfied.

Whenever Simon and Grace made it back, after the others were asleep, Hazel talked to Simon about letting her stay home with him after the school year ended. Both Grace and him loved her, right? So, she should be able to stay home, near her friends, in her comfort zone, and then she’d see Grace when she got home, and she’d be crazy excited about it, like she used to be when she didn’t get to see her everyday. Like she was whenever she saw her this weekend!

Simon reluctantly let her know he would be much busier in the summer than he was at the moment. He was at home with her and the Nanny as much as possible, but he reminded her that there was less than a month left of school and then she would be with her mom again. Her mom had ONLY been gone now for about a month… Hazel didn’t know if he could hear himself basically saying, “It’s only a couple of months away from your mom, both of you changing over that time in different ways and potentially growing apart, then you get to be awkwardly thrown back together because I’m not actually your parent and can’t wait until she can take you back!” He didn’t say that, but that was what she heard. She nodded her head, sadly, and Grace chimed in to remind her that she’d be on tour with her! They hadn’t been able to be together in almost a month and after one more, they would! Hazel smiled. “Of course, Grace. I can’t wait. We’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

Hazel finished off the school year with the Nanny and Simon. They flew out to meet with Grace, in June, spent a couple of days together, then Simon was headed back home, to focus on his stupid important things, Hazel couldn’t help but think. And she was pissed at him, too. She had been mopey and basically on autopilot most of this time, even with Grace trying desperately to cheer her up whenever she had some free time.

She just wanted a summer where she could hang out and have fun if she wanted to. Grace asked her to at least give her a couple of weeks to prove that this could be a fun experience. However, Grace kept running into that troublesome hassle of the public being pushy and entitled. Hazel and she kept either getting rushed in and out of places and trapped for a while, bothered every few minutes when they weren’t holed up, or surrounded by staff getting things done in between performances. Hazel lasted two weeks, then cried and begged to go home and be able to see her friends. It broke Grace’s heart but she promised to let Hazel go back with Simon after the stop in California for her baby brother’s birth.

Grace felt super rejected and cried about it, but if that was what Hazel really wanted, she didn’t want her career to make her feel stressed out. Her mother was quite a smartass about it. “Who would have thought that it might be difficult to focus on a demanding career while raising a child?”

“I didn’t call you for this.”

“Of course not. What did you call for?”

She wanted to know how the surrogate was. Grace didn’t know what it said about someone that they would rent out their body to grant someone else a child, but she could totally understand the flipside. Whenever Simon mentioned babies, she was extremely willing to adopt again, even the smallest baby that they would be able to be matched with… but nothing statistically made her have an inkling of wanting to actually change her entire body, probably for the worse so that she could potentially die to bring someone else into the world that she would immediately begin having to take care of and put everything into. It was hard enough to do with Hazel, and getting harder all of the time.

When that child’s period came around in February, Grace picked her up from school, gathered up the products she was most interested in (products from Grace’s own line), provided snacks, emergency meds, just in case, and any information that Hazel wasn’t certain about. Simon came over with a gift basket of stuff that had been suggested to him by browsing nice things to do for periods. They really wanted her to be comfortable and safe. She just wanted them to stay the fuck out of her room and let her lay down and write poems.

She didn’t get how Grace had period yoga, and heightened self care. The LAST thing Hazel felt like doing was caring about anything, even self. She wanted to rest and to rage. That was it. Grace would buy her flowers and say something silly like, “Whenever my period comes around, sometimes, flowers make me feel happier,” Then just… leave a pot with an orchid, or geraniums, or a peace lily in her room… to have to what? Care for a flower now TOO, as well as self?? Hazel hated the way her period made her feel. She spoke to her therapist about it and was advised to speak to her mother and potentially a gynecologist about it as well. Hazel put that conversation off, though.

She seemed her happiest whenever she was able to go to her grandparents’ to wait for the baby with them. Grace… didn’t understand…

Simon explained, “You don’t remember being 12 and not wanting to be around our parents?”

“Our parents sucked though! And she WANTS to be around my parents!”

“She wants to meet her baby uncle,” Simon told her and wrapped himself around her.

“Has she mentioned anything to you? I know that sometimes she feels more comfortable telling you stuff than she does me, since you aren’t her parent…”

He let go and frowned, “Wow.”

“I mean… There’s paperwork, Simon. You aren’t…”

“I know, but, I step in as much as you did before that, maybe even more. I understand that she technically isn’t mine, but she's important to me, too, Grace.”

“I know, but…” she sighed and shook her head, “I’m not trying to start a fight. Of course you’re as present as any father has ever been for her. I wasn’t trying to downgrade that, and I didn’t mean to sound like I was. I just wanted to know if she’d said anything to you about me.”

“No. She’s not talking to me. But, she does express herself via Doetry.”

“Her content is so angry and dark…”

“What she shares, at least…” Grace threw him a warning look. “I’m not saying make it a habit, but maybe taking a peek into her personal stuff might give you some type of clue as to what she needs right now.”

"I'm not snooping into Hazel's things, Simon. There's a reason that she shares what she shares and hides whatever she hides, IF she's hiding anything. I don't want to parent that way."

"Okay."

"And I'm also saying that you shouldn't."

"Noted."

"Okay… what I meant by shouldn't is don't do it."

"So, it's an order?"

"Yes."

He sighed. Hazel WAS Grace's daughter, legally, and he didn't want to do anything that he didn't have permission to. "Okay." It took him longer to say it than Grace had gotten accustomed to, but she knew he meant it and that it was hard for him to agree to this wish. She strummed his cheek with her thumb and he leaned into it and smirked. It was also easy to make him forget whenever she upset him. She leaned up just enough to kiss him on the nose and he blushed. She giggled. “What?”

“The fact that you’ll blush when I kiss you on the nose when you literally have been putting your nose right in between my thighs for almost 2 years.”

He blushed even more and shrugged his shoulders, “I’m blushing then, too. You just don’t notice because you’re usually quivering in pleasure.”

Sha gasped, “Cocky,” she said and elbowed him playfully.

“Confident… and accurate.”

“You don’t have to SAY it,” she said, now blushing herself.

He didn’t call her on it. Just seeing it was enough. Simon kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “I love you…” Her smile vanished and he furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her mouth in disappointment. “Sorry. I thought…”

“No… Don’t be. I guess it had to come up some time…” She stared at her hands. “I don’t know how to… I feel like my actions should… I know sometimes people just need to hear it, I just…”

“Please, stop.” He laughed, but was red and she had a feeling not from blushing. “You’re making it worse.”

“I just… Had an immediate flashback to the first time you told me and… I don’t know. This was so different, and you’re so different, and I have no idea why my brain is doing this to us…”

He wanted to say because of what he did to her, but hell.. That was really long ago and like she said, everything was different now. One day, she HAD to forgive him! He shrugged his shoulders, “You can’t control how you feel any more than I could.”

She frowned and nodded. Then, fortunately, Hazel came rushing in, "He's coming!" Simon and Grace both rushed into the birthing quarters where Mrs. Monroe, the documentation crew, the surrogate, midwife and such were. Hazel and Simon stood out of the way while Grace rushed to the surrogate and asked the midwife what she should do. (She was designated as her birthing partner, as she felt bad that her parents didn't seem to see her as anything more than a vessel) Grace spent a lot of time reading up to try to prepare for this.

It was a powerful time. It LOOKED as painful as it sounded from everything she read that discouraged her, but she tried to be strong for the surrogate. Simon was really impressed with how much Grace was able to do for her. He knew that she had become very empathetic over the years, but it was honestly a side of her he still hadn't seen. Meanwhile, Mrs. Monroe looked on, excitedly, but useless.

Whenever Montanus was born, Grace and the surrogate were both crying and Grace complimented her and told her how she was stronger than (Grace) could ever hope to be. When Grace tried to show her the baby, Mrs. Monroe cut her off and collected him, then gave the nurses some instructions for seeing to her. She was about to have delivery day photos taken.

"None with Astrid, Mom?" Grace wondered, still holding the woman's hand.

"You can, if you insist," she said. "Bad enough your father is late. I don't want to hold everyone up."

Grace was going to say more, but the surrogate squeezed and tugged her hand to get her attention and shook her head. "I signed up for this," she said, quietly. "It's not like he's mine…"

"You held him. You changed. You grew. You hurt. You bled. You cried. You.."

"Signed up for that." But she looked sad. Ao sad that Grace decided at that moment of she EVER DID have a surrogate, it was going to be a fellowship. A sisterhood. A loving connection in which she repaid the person with respect as well as her fee. She was a human. How her mother was able to just plant Montanus inside of her and basically discard her afterwards made Grace feel sick. She didn't even go with Simon and Hazel to see the baby. She was more concerned about this woman who had to put on a strong face after a really hard job.

Later, when she had to leave and also send Hazel off with Simon, she cried on him. "I'm not gonna do that to my surrogate. It was really mean, right? That was so cold…"

Simon rubbed her back, "Grace… it's a business transaction."

"He's not a transaction! He's my brother and he JUST got here, and Mom's ALREADY treating him like an asset. She messed up one kid and she’s had two decades to learn better emotional intelligence. The restart doesn’t look good to me.."

"She's bad at the emotional stuff, but she's trying," Simon offered. You aren't like her and you'll never have to be. You can treat your surrogate as sweetly as you please. But...I have to agree with your mom that they didn't need to connect. That'd just make it harder.

"She couldn't even say hi to him? After all of that?"

"It's what they agreed to. She would have taken one look at him and tried to keep him."

"She wouldn't be able to. He's from my parents' DNA. It was just… so uncomfortably cold. You should bring a baby into a warm life. I was too upset to even see him. I didn't want to give him the negative energy I had."

Hazel shrugged, "You didn't miss anything he looks like… a potato."

Simon gave her a shove and she wondered what was wrong with the truth. "He hasn't developed his looks yet. But he was cute in that it's a new life way."

"I… did not see that," Hazel admitted.

"You saw a potato," Simon repeated.

"Yep."

.

The christening was closer to the end of Grace's tour. She was going to be seeing her parents, new brother, Simon, and Hazel all again for the first time since she'd been on the road alone. Hazel and Simon went early so that he could help his dad with some things and Hazel would stay with her grandparents while he was doing that. Grace arrived in the morning and headed straight to the church.

They were supposed to wear neutral colors and earth tones, meanwhile, Montanus was styled to be in brilliant white with silver and gems. Grace had flashbacks to seeing photos of her own day. She had been draped in gold and yellow and dressed in something that was probably more expensive than reserving the building. She had been "clothed as the sun," and now nearly 25 years later, they had a boy "clothed as the moon."

Her mother told her that she has her outfit selected. She has to change in a room that brides generally used and Grace was a little thicker than when she had initially been fitted, so she squeezed into it and was far more voluptuous than she wanted to be in a church. Non-believer as she was, it simply seemed distasteful. She loved her halo crown for the event. It was pretty fancy, as she seemed to be reprising her role as the sun.

The officiant said something about the sun giving light to the moon, just as she, as his sister and godmother would give her own form of light to him and other poetic and sweet things about love and support, God and stuff and he blessed the baby and allowed them to put him on display for another photoshoot.

Grace ducked out, because she was STARVING, so of course Simon and Hazel came with, as they hadn’t had a chance to spend time with her in weeks. Old stomping grounds made them feel nostalgic and gave Hazel more fodder for imagining them as kids. She loved those times. Them, her age or a little bit younger or little bit older - she wished she knew them then. She wished for adventures like theirs with HER friends. She would never let it turn out how they were for a while, but she was also glad that they had each other now. The past few weeks with her and Simon had been very challenging, as he was more strict in Grace’s absence than when she was home, but he wasn’t abusing it. He just didn’t have Grace there to override him putting his foot down. Hazel hated THAT, but he didn’t care about certain other things, like she got to hang out with her friends longer, stay out later, and stay up later. Grace was a little more about her keeping a certain structure, which was fine a few years ago, but now it was unnecessary to Hazel and fortunately, Simon didn’t care because it was summer. So long as she was upfront about what she was doing and checked in, he was pretty chill. BUT, if she went outside of the boundaries, he was VERY strict. Almost like he felt betrayed. She hated to make him feel that way. They worked out well, though. At the end of the day, they were always friends again.

Grace noted that they had a few inside jokes and stuff while they were at lunch. People kept looking at the trio, in their fancy dress at this little burger dive. A few people came to see if they could get autographs and stuff. Grace was pretty open to that, even when it was uncomfortable. Simon reflexively wanted to step in, but she would brush it off and give him a look to ask him not to, so he gathered his sense of territory and possessiveness and choked it down. He didn’t have consent to defend…

Then… Something else happened. They were getting ready to get into the car and someone rushed up on them for an autograph. Simon would have been impressed with his quick reflexes if it didn’t go so… terribly infuriating…

He stopped the person in their tracks and they threw their hands up, and said that they just wanted a photo with Grace. Simon let go of the guy’s collar and looked at Grace. Hazel had her hand over her heart. Apparently Simon wasn’t the only one caught off guard by the Flashlike fan. “You okay, Haze?” he asked.

She was breathing hard and staring at the man. Grace stooped down to get on her level. “She’s fine,” the man said. “Could I get a photo?” Grace took a deep breath, ignoring him and repeated her question to Hazel. She wasn’t sure why her baby girl was reacting so intensely. Sure, it could be that this motherfucker came out of nowhere, but also… she could have known him from before, because they were in the same area they used to live, OR she might have had something recently happen that made this spook her today. WHATEVER the case, Grace was concerned and trying to talk to her. “I’ll just get a photo and leave you to it.”

“Chill,” Simon warned. He was getting pissed at this person and also worried about Hazel, because she still hadn’t responded. The guy scoffed and Simon clenched his fist. Realign your patience, Simon. Realign.

“Haze?” Grace repeated. Hazel took a deep breath and nodded.

“Sorry. He scared me. I’m fine.”

“Told you she was fine,” the dude said, really annoyed. Simon bit his lip and was practically digging holes into his palms with the balls that were his fists.

Grace wrapped an arm around Hazel and politely told the man, “I’m not currently taking photos. We just stopped to eat and we have to get back to something.” She was now too upset to take a photo. This was her boundary.

She opened the car door for Hazel and the man said, “Ugh, you were signing stuff inside, I saw you.”

Simon stepped in front of him and reiterated, “Yeah, but she told you no, so I advise you to step away from Grace and her daughter. You’ve already startled her and were extremely insensitive about it. You didn’t even apologize to her.”

“She said she was fine, just like I said.”

“She also is clearly not fine, and you, as a grown man should have been keen to it and respectful of that, especially considering that YOU were the one asking for something!” Simon’s canines were bared and Grace had to admit… she was not against seeing this Simon emerge again… not in this situation, at least.

“That’s not even her real daughter…” CRACK! Hazel called Simon’s name. He didn’t hear her. He had taken that balled up fist that he had been tempering and connected it to that man’s jaw. Grace held Hazel back and said softly, “Maybe cover your eyes, Baby.” Because she wasn’t gonna interfere. Simon looked at the man after he had punched him onto the pavement and some people had gathered. Then, he remembered! He turned towards Grace and Hazel, worried that he had just royally screwed up. Hazel’s face was alight with amusement and Grace’s alight with… something else.

“It just snapped…” He explained.

“It’s okay. We all mess up, right MOM?” Hazel asked, smiling at Simon.

“Yeah, Haze, but he didn’t mess up. Sometimes, people deserve it.” She took Simon’s swinging hand in hers as the ex-fan rushed off crying and complaining about pressing charges. “Let’s get back to my folks so I can tend to this.” She kissed his hand and smiled at him. He smiled back, swelling with pride. Hazel took his other hand and kissed it. These two hand kisses were very separate and different things. But, both mattered to him more than anything in the world.

“I lost my patience, but i don’t feel bad. Nobody’s gonna hurt either of you, as long as I’m there. You ARE Grace’s REAL daughter.”

“I know that, Simon. I’m yours too,” she said with the casual shrug of her shoulders, but he knew that it was a huge thing for Hazel to say such a thing.

.

Simon got to hold the and he was extremely enchanted. "Grace! He's so beautiful. Oh my God. He looks just like YOU!"

Mrs. Monroe offered, "Or, he looks like ME? Grace got her beautiful genetics from me."

"Yes, Mrs. Monroe. You look like Grace, too," he said, not turning away from the baby in his arms. She frowned and folded her arms. "Grace, if we have a baby, I hope they look just like Monty!"

"His name isn't Monty," Mrs. Monroe said. "It's Montanus. It means mountainous. He's the highest point of my life."

"Wow, Mom. Screw me then, huh?" Grace joked. This kid really WAS precious.

Mrs. Monroe said, "You put me through months of HELL, and quite frankly depression and misery. But… after a very long and painful journey pity of my body, we looked at each other and I felt like seeing your face delivered me from all of the worst of all of that. I'd been given grace, and I told your father after he snuck that hideous photo of me gawking at you that would be your name. We were going to call you Soleil. Like the Sun. But, I met you and I said, No. This is my Grace." Mrs. Monroe cupped Grace's chin and Grace smiled while Simon's eyes watered.

"That's a beautiful story." He nuzzled Grace with his nose and whispered, "I can't wait until we have a beautiful birth story."

"You certainly CAN wait," Mrs. Monroe said and eyed him up and down.

"So, you put Grace in THAT dress and let me look at THIS baby and you think I'm NOT going to think about knocking her up?"

"He's joking. We don't even do that,"Grace said.

"Doesn't mean I'm joking. LOOK at him, Grace. This has got to be the most beautiful baby that has ever lived!"

Grace scoffed, "Um. No. I'm sure that was me as a baby."

"I don't know… I can't imagine any baby ever looking more adorable than this one." He shook his head and looked at him, then pulled him close to hold against himself.

He heard Mrs. Monroe whisper, "I think he thinks he's ready for one." He shut his eyes to listen to the infant breathe. He… hadn't held a baby since he had been helped in holding Hope when he was a little boy. He'd had a similar reaction to her… but he didn't know what she looked like anymore and he didn't even have feelings for her anymore. He remembered her as someone who was lost way too soon, someone that he accidentally hurt, someone who would remind him to always handle the innocent with extra care. "I would kill for you," he whispered and kissed Montanus'" head. For his own. For Hazel. For Grace.

Grace wondered, "Can I hold him?" The way that he was feeling about this baby… He didn’t want to let him go… but then again, Grace was still not wanting kids and Simon rationalized that holding “Monty” was gonna change that for her, so he reluctantly handed him over in the hopes that she might be swayed. “Wow…” She said staring into big brown eyes, like her own but more bright and full of wonder. He reached out for her and she let him hold her finger. “Okay. I absolutely want one,” she joked. Simon smiled. He knew the feeling, even though he also knew that SHE didn’t really mean it. She did have a point, they still hadn’t actually had sex. They had… done a lot. Very gradually over the past year and a half, but not that and she seemed to get anxious whenever things approached it. Simon always stopped and confirmed whether or not she wanted to do more. That out that he gave her, she always took it. It was why he kept checking. He worried that if he didn’t, she might just go along with things, and that could be something else to resent him for down the line. Affirmative consent. It was a small price to pay to keep the amount of trust that HAD been rebuilt intact, and maybe someday it would pay off.

Someday was closer than he’d thought. They eventually surrendered that baby back to his parents and Hazel, not wanting to cry jealousy, but feeling a way retired to her room to meditate and write before bed.

Simon and Grace retired to her room, afterwards. “I am lovesick with baby fever,” Grace said. He was on her like prey, with his hands sliding up her sides and his nose tracing her neck. “Slow down, Gray Eyes,” she said with a chuckle, looking at them in the vanity mirror. How many times had they looked at themselves in that mirror when they were younger? It was never like this… They didn’t even look the same to her. They didn’t feel the same, but somehow, everything was all coming back to her, just being in here, with him.

The good and the bad. Luckily, she would be able to say goodbye early in the morning and not see him for a couple of weeks. Tonight could just be… fun. She tried to push out the old thoughts, the old fights, the old Grace and Simon. They were Simon and Grace before The Apex and they had become another Grace and Simon.  New and improved.

“This dress really isn’t helping in the “slow down” department.”

“I’ve gained a little weight,” she said, a little self consciously.

“Mmm hmm,” he said, appraisingly, tracing but not touching the curves of her cleavage. She hadn’t given him permission. Simon was very disciplined, now. Very diligent in not crossing any boundaries, but he certainly danced the fine line.

“Will you please help me out of this dress?” She whispered, not taking her eyes off of the obediently trained blond man in her mirror.

“Yes, ma’am.” He carefully unclasped the back and slowly unzipped, revealing each inch of her skin with utmost reverence and full throttle desire, contained, but entirely visible as she studied his face. She stepped out of the dress and carefully placed it aside. He noted that specifically, because he remembered how she used to just toss them on the floor. He was making more and more notes of how much more thoughtful she was about her things and surroundings. “Grace?”

“Yes, Simon?” she was cleaning off her makeup, still in her undergarments and halo crown.

“I just wanted to thank you for letting me back in. I know that it takes a very big person to be able to do that and I’m grateful that you’re so big of a person and I’m also proud of you. You’ve changed a lot in a lot of ways that I tried to stop before, because I was scared that you’d outgrow me and leave me behind if you came to be this bigger person. I’m glad that I’ve realized that becoming a better you was exactly what type of person who could give me another chance. It makes me want to be a bigger, better person. It makes it easy for me to be good, and I’ve realized that I do it for you, but also for myself. I feel better, and I just want you to know that you’ve done so much towards that.”

She wanted to make a joke about how he must’ve really wanted some tonight to be spilling all of this, but he was so genuine, she was entirely too touched. Between that and his protecting Hazel earlier, not to mention Hazel claiming him?

She set her cloth down, turned around and kissed him. No other response was needed.

The kissing grew, she didn’t break apart while they carefully made their way to the bed and… well… it wasn’t really a discussion or a question. The time had come. Simon opened his mouth to confirm that she was sure and she silenced him with her lips while she took off his clothes.

At every point that he wanted to ask her for permission, she took initiative while simultaneously kissing him to stop the question. If she thought too hard about it, if he asked her about it, she would think too hard about it - If she thought too hard about it, it might never happen.

At some point, she began crying. Simon panicked. He tried to pull out, but she clasped him tightly with her legs and held on to him, sobbing into his ear. Were they happy tears, or had he made a mistake? It was fucking with him. “Grace?” he whispered, slowing down, at least. She urged her hips to make him speed back up and he started crying too. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong!” he whimpered, terrified of her tears right now.

“Does… it mean something to you, Simon?” She asked in an insecure voice that he hadn’t heard in so long that he forgot how she sounded when she wasn’t sure of herself.

He lifted his head to look her in the eyes, moving her chin to face him so that she couldn’t avoid it.

“Everything. It means everything to me, Grace. You mean everything to me.”

She sobbed and began to move her hips again, somehow holding on even tighter to him. “Never let me go again. Never push me away.”

“I promise. I won’t. I swear on my life.”

She’d mentioned before that her period was that weekend, but she wasn’t on it. The stress of touring probably knocked her off of her schedule. At any rate, she wasn’t one it, as she had planned to be. That worked out perfectly for Simon that night, but he wasn’t even thinking about those details at the moment. He had to spend the rest of the night making sure that she knew things wouldn’t be like they had been before.

A couple of weeks later when she came home from the tour, Hazel and Simon had her welcome home party under way. It was lowkey - just the 3 of them and the cat. Simon cooked everyone’s faves, and they didn’t ask tour questions. Hazel kept using “Mom” and “Dad,” despite the official paperwork. Grace felt super at ease, considering.

“Hey… We have to talk about something, as a family…” Hazel and Simon looked at each other, both a little worried, as she sounded super serious out of nowhere. Did something happen to her on the tour? Were they about to have to kick somebody’s ass? What was she about to say?? “I have an announcement…” She took a deep breath and took something that she had on her person out.

Simon gasped and got up to rush over. Hazel asked, “What is that?? What’s the announcement??”

Simon took both of Grace’s hands and searched her face, “What do you want to do? You know I’ll support anything. If you aren’t ready, I understand…”

“UNDERSTAND WHAT?? WHAT IS THAT, MOM???”

“I’m ready,” Grace told Simon, then to Hazel, “Mom’s… having a kid…” She winced, unsure of how Hazel was going to feel about a bio on the horizon. She SCREAMED. “OMG! Lindsay and Lucy are gonna be JEALOUS. SO JEALOUS! Lindsay thinks her kinkajou is SOOOO cool… and it is, but I’m gonna have a SIBLING! Oh… unless we’re being quiet?”

“For a while. I’m still… taking it all in…” Grace said. She looked at Simon. She was scared shitless.

“I’m going to do whatever you need.”

“I know. I trust you with my life.” He smiled brighter than anything she had ever seen. She collected Hazel and him, “Both of you.”

Next

[yourdearhart]

Louis’ Self-worth (pt. 1)

Part 1: The Physical Aspect

*spoilers for the manga below*

I know I’ve made “Louis is pissed about being an herbivore” jokes on here, but mainly in that “haha no really” sense. Louis does hate being an herbivore. I think this is something that was instilled in him from the earliest possible age, watching the carnivores who caged him, and those who came and went and ate his friends; watching those friends be dragged away, and being helpless to stop it. He and the other herbivores were defenseless, and we know how, as a teen/adult, Louis hates being weak. The path between those two things is a straight line. 

Everything about him is built to flee and run at the first sign of trouble, and he despises it; Louis wants to fight. He was raised as food and seen as nothing more than a product; is it any wonder he grew to hate that product, the body that marked him for death? He hates carnivores, presumably because he developed a prejudice against them after what was done to him, but we know he gets past that. He does not get past his self-loathing over being an herbivore.

This is part of his trouble with Azuki: he despises himself and his body so thoroughly that when he looks at her, a fellow red deer (a fact he notes twice in his narration of their intimacy), he sees all the things about himself that he hates the most. He even calls it out during their rendezvous at the hotel:

Louis: Our thin and weak bodies intertwined... [emphasis mine]

This is not the first time Louis complains about his body’s weakness. After he fractures his leg during rehearsal for Adler, he berates his physical failures.

Louis: It seems like the more I exert myself, the more my body fails me...I know I wasn’t born with a body designed for battle. I’m built as food for carnivores to capture and devour.

13 years after he was rescued from the livestock pen, Louis is still painfully aware of his place in the natural world, and he resents, seemingly, everyone for it: carnivores for their urges, herbivores for their prey instincts. He’s disgusted with the part he plays in the natural order, and he pushes his body to the breaking point trying to be other than he is.

Repeatedly throughout the encounter with Azuki he has to tell himself this is normal, as if he’s trying to convince himself to be attracted to another deer. As we know, he fails, and his revulsion to attempted intercourse with another deer is so strong he has a physical response (throwing up).

Louis: This is normal. Nothing about this is strange. The only thing that’s strange is me. That’s why this situation is making me feel so uncomfortable.

What is he drawn to instead? Juno-- a fierce and deadly carnivore, a gray wolf. An image of strength. Also, for the record: a natural predator of the red deer.

Louis, to Juno (“Our Electric Cardiogram is a Straw Ripped to Pieces”): “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your hunting instincts because you’re a female.”

Louis (“Her Breasts so Translucent the Light of the TV Passes Through Them”): She [Azuki] doesn’t kiss like Juno...nothing in her mouth resembles those rough canine teeth.

Early in his acquaintance with Legoshi, he also remarks on his physicality, observing how even casually, even when Legoshi is trying to stay the wallflower that he is, Legoshi’s form projects strength and vitality.

Louis: “Your body is always flaunting its power.”

It’s easy to see that entire exchange with Legoshi in the leader room being tinted with envy. Louis hates Legoshi because Legoshi has what Louis wants: a body that can fight. If Louis could fight, he wouldn’t have been a victim. If he could fight, he wouldn’t have to be afraid, he wouldn’t be looked down on by carnivores, or pitied for his prey body. Louis is fiercely independent (to the point of getting angry with peers who sympathize with him after he lands in the infirmary), and for him, being a carnivore would increase his ability to walk alone.

What does he hate? Carnivores who try to hide their strength, who pretend to be weaker than they are.

Louis: “I wish you’d stop holding back all the time...I want you to bare your fangs!”

Legoshi: “No! I’d be breaking the law. A carnivore is forbidden from bearing its fangs at an herbi--”

Louis: “Don’t you dare lump me in with the other herbivores! ...It’s large carnivores like you who piss me off the most! ...I wish you’d challenge me sometimes--with everything you’ve got!”

When carnivores try to hide themselves, Louis’ feelings are threefold:

They’re trying to lessen themselves to make him feel safe, as if he needs to be coddled or protected, as if they need to dilute themselves for his comfort (as if he could forget what they are because they’re hiding their fangs).

They’re striving to be something weaker than they are. They are crafting themselves into an image of something Louis finds detestable--a weaker animal.

They’re hiding gifts he envies. Louis wants to be strong and deadly, so to see a predator pretend to be otherwise feels like seeing things he wants gifted to someone who doesn’t appreciate them.

I believe quite a lot of this ties into his early childhood. As I’ve discussed before on this blog, Louis openly admits to himself that his time in the livestock pen deeply scarred him, and is still affecting him at present. At one of his lowest, weakest points--when Legoshi, one of Louis’ only friends, is going to die in the fight with Riz and Louis is helpless to stop it--he calls back to that time when he was at his most helpless:

Louis: The fawn inside me is still crying in his cage.

Louis despises being an herbivore, because he sees them as weak, cowardly, prey. Having been raised for consumption, and been unable to help himself or his friends escape their fate, he can’t help but hate the body that failed him, which is why he can’t manage to make himself be attracted to other deer. Knowing he will never be as strong as a carnivore, Louis has poured his efforts into obtaining power in other ways: weapons, political power, intellectual prowess, a forceful personality.

This may also be why he was less than hysterical about losing a leg. Saving the life of his friend is the best thing his body could be used for, since it’s never been any use to him.

We know that Louis gets over his hatred of carnivores. This realization contributes to his decision to leave the Shishigumi, and it’s a powerful moment for him, coming in tandem with realizing he considers Legoshi a friend, and is afraid that he’s going to be hurt or killed in the fight with Riz. But his hatred of his own body and instincts continue--sometimes, it’s easier to forgive others than ourselves.

I’ve broken this into two parts because this has already gotten a little long and I don’t want you to have to scroll for miles to get through this.

See Part 2: The Mental Aspect here

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Hiding Things to Save Them Chapter 4

Trevor Belmont x reader

Summary: So you can apparently fight, and by the way he’s not the last son of the house of Belmont . . . 

Word Count: 1628

For almost three weeks he’d been in the little village staying with a woman he still wasn’t convinced wasn’t just a dream. With the peaceful atmosphere that surrounded her little house, it was easy for Trevor to start calling it ‘home’. The two of them had become close from their near-constant conversations that neither wanted to dwell on the fact that their time together was quickly coming to an end.

Unfortunately, a forced reminder came by way of about seven men cornering Y/N as she was leaving the market. She’d gone to gather groceries for the next few days while Trevor went to the tavern for a cask of ale for the pair to drink with dinner. As soon as she realized the strange men were following her, Y/N started subtly veering into an alley away from the busy people of the village. Either these men were bandits and she could handle them before they went after anyone else, or they were tailing her because of Trevor. Of course, the men took the opportunity provided by the narrow path to trap her, forcing her to stop.

Cautiously, Y/N set her few bags on the ground off to the side to free up her hands. “Can I help you?” Her hand drifted to the small of her back where a curved dagger rested in its sheath.

“Father Fredrick has been hearing rumors about you housing a drifter of a rather unsavory sort,” the one directly in front of her replied, fingers tightening on his own sword. “Sent us to talk to you about it.”

“I would think the good Father would be proud of my hospitality. That’s what he teaches, isn’t it? We should be accepting to travelers?” she did her best to sound innocent.

“That would be the case,” a man to her left said, “but there are other concerns about your . . . hospitality.”

“Many,” this one was behind her, “are saying that you’ve been having an affair with the man. I’m sure you know that it’s frowned upon to have an unmarried woman with a man staying in her home unsupervised . . . Rumors could be rumors, but you’ll understand if we air on the side of caution.”

“I don’t have to defend my honor to the Church’s thugs. I have done nothing wrong, and the lot of you cannot tell me what I should or shouldn’t do in my own home.” Her blade was now at her side, drawn from its sheath and clenched tightly in her fist.

As if taking that movement as a threat, the first man cracked his neck and raised his blade. “The most concerning matter, however, is the talk that the Father has heard about just who this drifter is. Several say they recognized the crest on his chest when he first arrived.”

“So the man is from a known family. All the more reason to be welcoming,” she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 

“Then I assume you will be surprised to learn that he has reason to believe this man is a Belmont.”

“I will believe no such thing,” she lied smoothly. “That man introduced himself as a Louis, and I would sooner believe him than the rumors of uneducated housewives looking for the latest gossip.” And with that, she struck.

~

“By the time I found her, she’d downed all but one of those men,” Trevor was saying. “When I struck down the last, she was half crazed from her wounds and fear and didn’t recognize me. She lashed out and caught me off-guard. I was damned lucky I didn’t lose my eye.”

“Hold on, are you saying that she was the one that gave you that scar?” Alucard asked.

Trevor’s hand raised to trace the old wound of its own accord. “Yes. Once she came to her senses, the woman panicked for hours. She literally dragged me back to the local healer. They managed to close it the same day, but you wouldn’t know it based off how much she apologized.”

“Wait, they had a healer that skilled yet left them alone but came after you?”

“It . . . was not a good town. And they weren’t that great of healers, don’t be fooled. It was closed, but in case you haven’t noticed they left a pretty nasty scar behind. It didn’t matter, though; she moved right after. We were more cautious once she got settled a few hours away in a new village.”

“So you kept visiting her?” Sypha spoke up.

“Whenever I can,” he nodded. “Few times a year for as long as I can get away with without people figuring out who I am.”

It was odd, Sypha decided, to hear him talk about this woman in the present tense. Usually, when he referred to his family it was in the distant past, so it seemed strange to know that this woman was still out there.

“About six years ago we got married,” Trevor decided the blunt was to drop that bit of information.

Alucard chuckled. “As Trevor Louis, I presume?”

The hunter groaned. “God no. I fucking hate that name. I love her with all of my heart, but that woman cannot think of names in a hurry.”

“Then how . . .”

“It required a fair bit of travel, but she managed to track down an unbiased priest that was still loyal to my family. As far as their goddamn God is concerned she is a Belmont. As far as anyone else knows, she is a Monbelt.”

Sypha couldn’t stop the hysterical giggle that tore its way out of her throat. “Monbelt?! You give your wife a hard time, and that’s the best you could come up with?!” She dissolved into a fit of laughter that brought a light blush to Trevor’s cheeks.

“Indeed,” Alucard was smirking. “An anagram? I know you are not the brightest, Belmont, but I assumed you could do better than that.”

“Alright, we’re both terrible at making up names,” Trevor muttered, crossing his arms. “Either way, moving on with the story, that priest hid the real paperwork deep in their archives.”

“Now that is uncharacteristically wise,” the dhampir mused. “It prevents the nonsense of accusing her of impropriety, hides her true involvement with the Belmont family, yet if they demanded it they could feasibly find the real documentation . . . Though in the current climate of the church, perhaps it’s a good thing they won’t stumble across that paperwork . . .They seem to be torn between wanting you dead or worshipping you as a second messiah.”

“I do have a question, though,” Sypha started, still smiling residually from her little laughing fit.

“If it’s more about the name thing, I think we’ve talked about that enough.” Though Trevor sounded annoyed, both of his companions could see the amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No. I was just wondering . . . If your wife is such a fearsome warrior, would she not have been helpful in the fight against Dracula?”

That question had Trevor choking on his own saliva after a surprised sharp inhale. “That’s--I’m--” he couldn’t come up with the words.

“After what he’s said about the woman, I rather doubt our valiant hunter would put the woman he loves in that kind of danger regardless of how . . . as you said, fearsome she might be.” Those golden eyes flitted back up to Trevor. “Although, none of his explains your repeated insistence about your status as the last Belmont.” His head cocked to the side. “You have a child. Don’t you?”

Trevor’s first response was a shaky nod. Admitting his fears was something his father had trained him to avoid at any cost, so he chose to keep his mouth shut. All his aimless drifting kept his family safe. The drinking made people think he was idiotic, incapable of having any sort of relationship let alone something serious. And it had the added benefit of numbing the pain of being away from them. He hated it whenever he went home and saw how much his child had grown during his absence; it just reminded him of what he missed being there for. Needless to say, it was more than a little terrifying that someone else was learning about his little family since it made all that time he’d missed completely worthless.

“And with that, I think we’ve passed Trevor’s threshold for storytime,” Sypha spoke up upon seeing the distraught look on the man’s face.

“Belmont,” Alucard removed his arm from around the magician in order to lean forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I hope you realize that my offer still stands. Very few people are as . . . good as you and Sypha. Times like these, I find myself thinking like the man my father was around my mother; I want to protect the both of you. If this woman has captured your heart, she is clearly of the same caliber as you. It will likely never be safe for the lot of you out in the Wallachia that wants the Belmonts dead. Bring them here. We are atop the library that belongs to them, to your child, and the land that belongs to them. They should be here anyway; the fact that this is the safest place for them is . . .” Alucard smirked as he chose his next words, “a luxury we can most definitely afford.” The little taunt pulled a tiny smirk to Trevor’s lips too.

Sypha absolutely beamed at the offer.

All at once, Trevor’s usually-tense body seemed to sag into the couch in utter relief. “Thank you, Adrian.” The use of his real name surprised the dhampir. “I suppose . . . I should go fetch the missus.” He winced, biting his lip. “Don’t tell her I called her that; she’ll kill me.”

From there, all three fell into laughter.

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 22a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention. Trigger warnings for discussion of illegal drug use.

-x-

The entire house was asleep, or at least that’s what Louis thought. He crept out of his bedroom, a pile of books in his hands and quietly walked along the hall. Reaching the stairs, he made a mental note of which floor board squeaked and climbed down them. He didn’t want to wake the house up, he’d be too embarrassed if anyone found out what he was doing. He cursed quietly when he ended up standing on the squeaky floorboard and found himself dashing down the stairs.

Lottie rolled over sleepily. "Did you hear a noise?" She mumbled to Tilly.

Tilly nodded, “Probably Em.” She mumbled back.

Louis reached the bottom step and listened out for any noise. Satisfied he hadn’t disturbed anyone, Louis wandered into the kitchen. As he reached the doorway, he dropped a book that hit the floor and echoed around the house.

"For someone so tiny she's so noisy!" Lottie grumbled, pulling her pillow over her head.

Tilly sat up, “Lottie? What if we’re getting burgled?”

"Someone else can deal with it." Lottie shrugged.

“Shall we call mum?”

"She's just finished a run of eighteen hour shifts - she won't thank you..!"

“Dad then?”

"I thought he was working..?" Lottie yawned.

“Shit! I’m getting mum! I’m scared!” Tilly got out of bed and quietly moved to the door.

"Wussbag!" Lottie teased.

“Shut up!” Tilly frowned and went out of her bedroom. As she reached the door of her parents room, she heard another thud from downstairs and pushed open the door. “Mum?”

"Mmm?" Duffy yawned.

“I can hear noises downstairs and I’m scared.”

"What?!" That got Duffy's attention.

“Noises downstairs. Like banging.”

"OK. You go back to bed and I'll go take a look. It's probably nothing."

“I’ll come with you?” Tilly swallowed nervously.

"There's no need." Duffy reassured her daughter as she reached for her dressing gown.

Tilly nodded and kissed her mum’s cheek before going back to her room.

Duffy crept down the stairs slowly. The light was on in the kitchen so she grabbed a shoe which she held aloft as she burst into the kitchen.

Louis jumped off his chair, “Bloody hell!!”

Duffy let out a startled squeal, not expecting to find her stepson in the kitchen.

They both just stared at each other for a minute before Louis moved to try and hide the things on the table. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

"You didn't, Tilly did." Duffy attempted to get her heart to stop hammering.

“Sorry.” He smiled sadly, “I know you’ve been working eighteen hour shifts so I didn’t want to disturb you.” He managed to close the notebook.

"She thought we were being burgled." Duffy smiled. "What are you doing?"

“Oh... Erm, nothing.” He looked down at the floor, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Duffy stooped to pick up a book that still lay on the floor. "Looks like you dropped part of your nothing..." She remarked, handing it back to him.

He looked up and took the book. “You won’t laugh if I tell you, will you?”

"Of course not."

“I’ve been studying for my exams.”

"Why would I laugh at that? That's a good thing."

“Because I know people don’t think I can do it.” He admitted sadly, “But I want to go to college.”

"And you will."

He smiled. “Sorry about waking you up. I find it easier to study down here.”

"That's OK. I'll leave you to it."

“Goodnight Duffy, love you, sorry once again for waking you.”

She squeezed his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his hair. "Don't stay up too late. You've got lessons tomorrow."

“I won’t, I promise.”

She bid him goodnight before heading back to bed, stopping on the way to reassure Tilly that they weren't in fact being burgled.

“Who was it?” Tilly asked as she lay on her side in bed facing the door. “I can sleep now, mama?”

"It was just your brother getting a drink. He dropped a cup." Duffy explained. "Yes, you've got school in the morning missy!"

“Love you mama.”

"Love you too."

It didn’t take Tilly long to fall back to sleep. As promised, Louis spent an hour downstairs studying before going to bed.

The next morning Duffy pulled Louis aside once the other children were at school.

He was just getting ready to go out. He was still anxious about taking trips on his own in case he bumped into his old friends and wasn’t strong enough to resist the temptation. “Yes Duffy?” He asked.

"After last night I was wondering if you'd like me and your dad to look into increasing your lesson contact hours?"

He nodded enthusiastically. “You and dad would do that for me?”

"Of course. You've shown that you're taking it seriously and committing to it."

“I’d really love that, thank you.” Then he paused, “That would mean more time at school though, right?”

"It would. But it would be like now - you'd still be with the teacher one to one."

He nodded, “Ok.”

"You're worried about spending more time at school?"

He nodded, “A little bit.”

"Is there a particular reason for that?" She asked gently.

“I worry I might be tempted.”

"Would it help if me or your dad drove you to school and picked you up after?"

He shook his head. “I need to face it. I can’t avoid it for the rest of my life.

"If you're sure..?"

Louis nodded. “I don’t want to ever use drugs again. But it isn’t always easy to avoid temptation.”

"It'll always be there but you have us to help you."

“I’m grateful for that.” He smiled.

"Its what families are for." Duffy smiled.

He smiled. “How are things with you?”

"I'm ok." Duffy smiled.

“Good.”

"Did you want a packed lunch or would you rather eat in the school canteen?"

“I’ll eat in the canteen today, if that’s ok?”

"Saves me a job." She smiled.

Louis opened his bag to stick in his textbooks, a comfortable silence between him and Duffy.

Duffy finished clearing up from breakfast. "What lessons do you have today?"

“Double English and Maths and Biology and IT.”

"Sounds like a busy day."

“Yeah it is.” He smiled.

"How do you feel you're getting on with it all?"

“Some of it is ok, some of it I’m finding difficult.” He admitted.

"Which subjects?"

“Physics I’m finding difficult and sometimes English.”

"It might be worth chatting to Peter about physics." She mused.

“Peter’s good at physics?”

"I know he's good at chemistry and I'm pretty sure he's good at physics too."

“I’ll ask him. Thank you.”

"That's OK. We may need to look into a tutor to help with the English."

“It’s not always but sometimes I find it difficult to follow what’s going on.” He sighed, “I think that’s me though.”

"I would suggest you could work with Emily's tutor but I'm not sure how she'd feel about that."

“Would it be OK if I asked Em?”

"I have no issue with you asking her."

“I will after school. If she says no, that’s fine. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

"OK."

“Thank you for the idea though.” He kissed her cheek before zipping up his bag. “I suppose I better get a move on.”

"Yes, don't want you being late!" She smiled.

“No, it wouldn’t look good.”

"Both me and your Dad are so proud of how much progress you've made these last couple of months." She smiled.

Louis blushed, “I’m really trying.”

"You are and that's wonderful." She smiled. "Now off to school with you!" She chuckled.

He smiled, “Yes Duffy.”

Duffy smiled as she watched Louis head out the house. She was thrilled that he seemed to be making such good progress.

Louis was desperately trying to be better. He was still awaiting an appointment with the mental health team. He hoped it would come soon because every now and then, he’d get some really horrible thoughts.

Arriving at school he was greeted by his English teacher.

“Hi,” He smiled.

"Good morning Louis. Did you manage to read the pages of the text that I asked you to?"

“Yes Miss, I did. I quite enjoyed the text.”

"That's good. We're going to work through some exam style questions on that section of the text today."

“I’ve been practising.”

"That's good. As you know you'll be given an option of three questions in the exam." She passed him a previous exam paper.

He took the exam paper and opened it up.

"Pick which question you want to attempt and then we'll discuss it."

Louis listened to the teacher’s instructions and began to read the question. He circled key words to help him.

He looked up briefly as his teacher sat down at her desk. She smiled before starting to work through marking some homework from one of her classes in the lower years.

Louis looked down at his paper and re-read the question: “What is the importance of Cathy in the play DNA and how does Kelly present her.” He smiled, he loved that play! He began to write his answer.

By the time his teacher told him it was time to stop he'd written two sides of A4.

He placed his pen down. He felt oddly positive about the experience! It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

"You're smiling." His teacher remarked.

“I am?” He blushed.

"Yes. I'm presuming you were happy with that exam question?"

“It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.”

"That's good. Exams shouldn't be scary."

“I’d really like to go to college Miss, so I know I need to pass my exams.”

"Well you're making good progress towards that goal." She picked up his paper. "Let's have a look through your answer now shall we?"

[thearrangment-phff]

LXXIV.

May 2019

Harry watched as Isabella played with their sons in the middle of the room. Charlie had been running around before falling forward and getting back up over and over. Bertie had been sitting by her side playing with the ends of his mother’s hair.  

“I’m leaving now.”

“Okay,” replied Isabella.

“Where is Mary Astrid?” asked Harry.

“She’s sleeping. Christine is with her in case she wakes up besides Louis is on his way over here.”

“Louis? You invite him when I have to leave for the match? Will he be here before I leave?” asked Harry.

“No. He should be here within the hour. Why do you want to talk to him?”

“Sure.”

“He can stay late today. Gabriel and Noah are in Luxembourg with their mother so it’s just him.”

“I won’t be long so I can come to spend more time you the four of you,” smiled Harry.

“Okay. Bring me something if you can. I would love a jersey,” asked Isabella.

“Of course,” replied Harry as he gave Isabella a kiss on the cheek and kissed each of his children on their foreheads before leaving.

About 10 minutes later, Louis came into the room being escorted by Christine, “Louis! Hello, oh, you just missed Harry. He wanted to say hello before he left.”

“I can stay long enough to say hi to him.”

“I knew you would. That’s exactly what I told him.”

“Where are the kids?” asked Louis.

“All napping. I just feed Mary-Astrid and the boys just got put down to sleep. Give them an hour and they should wake up,” explained Isabella.

“Okay. Then it will just be you and I,” smiled Louis.

“How are you? How are Gabriel and Noah?” asked Isabella as they sat down across from each other.

“I’m fine. Gabriel and Noah have a match next week. It would be amazing if you and Harry could come and bring the kids. They have been really into polo lately. Noah took to it faster than any of us had expected.”

“We will definitely be there. I miss them so much. I know I just saw them at the funeral but they are getting older. I still remember when you announced that Tessy was pregnant.”

“I’ll try and bring them around more often. I thought you would be busy so I just wanted to give you some space,” said Louis.

“Christine has really helped me beyond belief since the twins were born. Now with them getting older and more independent, she has been helping me with Mary-Astrid. I owe that woman so much,” explained Isabella.

“Well, I am here. I heard that Olympia and Jean-Christoph are going to be based in London after the wedding. She could be here and help.”

“I think Olympia will want to start a family of her own. I don’t want to trouble her. But speaking of weddings, I would like to introduce you to someone.”

“Belle, no. I don’t want to get set up with some random girl. I just finalized my divorce a month ago.”

“I know but please just give her a chance. You’ll like her, I know you will!” begged Isabella.

Louis hesitated, “Who is she?”  

“My cousin Marie and she’s your age too.”

“Belle, no.”

“Why not? She’s nice, she’s good with kids because I know she helped Rudolf when he started his family. She is a well-educated woman and I know the two of you will get along great.”

“I don’t know. It’s too soon and I have the boys,” paused Louis.

“Just one date! One date could do you good. Honestly, I have good taste in significant others.”

Louis gave another pause, “We both know you don’t but I’ll humor you for trying. One date. That is it, and if there isn’t another one after that then I don’t want you barking at me.”

“No barking I promise.”

“Okay then. I am assuming you’ll talk to Marie for me.”

“Better yet, I can give you her phone number before you leave.”

“Also, what is up with Charlotte and Ferdinand von Habsburg?” asked Louis.

“They are getting very serious, but I know in my heart that Ferdinand is a good man so I don’t have any objections. Why?”

“I was just a year older than her when Gabriel was born. I guess I just worry about everyone. I’m not saying that Gabriel and Noah are a mistake, they aren’t,” started Louis.

“And I would never presume you would think that,” interrupted Isabella.

“Yes, well, I was a kid. Charlotte is a kid. You married too young in my opinion,” joked Louis at the end.

“I was 25 with a career of my own,” argued Isabella.

“Still too young. Now you’re 26 with 3 children under 2 and you’ve only been married 2 years. Don’t you think you could have done something more with a couple more years?” asked Louis.

“Of course I could have but I guess I’m okay with the way things have gone,” answered Isabella.

“I’m sorry for taking the direction of the conversation this way. We can switch. You can tell me how the twins are doing.”

Isabella nodded at the conversation change and thought for a couple of seconds, “Mary-Astrid’ christening is coming up in August and I just finished the list of godparents.”

“Can I see?” asked Louis.

“Sure, let me go get the list.”

Isabella left the room quickly coming back with a small piece of paper. She handed it to Louis who recognized many of the names, “Very packed list of people.”

“After the funeral, I decided that aunt Marie-Gabrielle should be a godparent to her brother’s great-grandchild. I thought he would love it,” explained Isabella.

“He would trust me. Our side of the family really shows in Mary-Astrid's godparents. Marie-Gabrielle, Marie-Christine, and Luisa Maria. Is it going to be at Buckingham Palace?”

“Yes, Buckingham. Since Antonia is my lady-in-waiting she is arranging to get her mother to London. The most effective way is a train but I wanted her to fly. She is more than willing to come, she was so happy to hear from me.”

“What about the twins?”

“They are fine. Growing faster than I imagined. Sometimes it takes a lot to carry one of them,” replied Isabella.

“Perfect health?” asked Louis.

“Beyond perfect. Again, Christine’s help has been amazing.”

“And you?”

Isabella was a bit taken back by that question. She didn’t quite know how to answer. “Well, things are different.”

“Has Harry been helping like Christine?” asked Louis.

“Oh yes. With the both of them helping with the little ones it seems all I do is breastfeed. Harry takes care of playtime and Christine does not shy away from nappies, thank god.”

“I could look after them for a couple of hours so you and Harry could go on a date or something. 3 children under 2 can be stressful,” suggested Louis.

“Thank you for the offer but I have more than enough help under this roof. Thank you for caring about us enough to offer to help in the first place,” smiled Isabella.

Louis nodded before switching the conversation. “Did you hear about Adelaide and Christoph?”

“I did. I video chatted them a couple of days ago. Another baby by the end of the year is such a joy.”

“Maria-Anunciata and Johannes may have a child by the time their first-year anniversary rolls around.”

“Do you think that Maria-Anunciata is moving fast? You said I was,” asked Isabella.

“She is 7 years older than you,” answered Louis.

“So you think age gives you maturity?”  

“Well no, you at 10 would make any 30-year-old man shit his pants. You would constantly remind my father of his mistakes by bringing up the actions of our ancestors. You were different.”

“So why did you use the saying ‘too young’ to describe me when you are now saying my maturity puts men three times my age to shame?” asked Isabella.

Louis paused before a small smile crept on his face, “You win this argument, but I have the next one.

They talked for the next hour until the twins had woken up and Louis was more than happy to have play time with them. Isabella would leave every once in a while, to feed Mary-Astrid while Christine would be the one who would take of the baby girl.

Hours of playing and talking had finally tired out Louis who forgot how hard it was to take care of young children. Charlie and Bertie escaped from his grasp one too many times that Isabella had to limit the space in the room and where the twins could go. When the door opened Harry walked through the mess of toys and books to get to his three children.

Mary-Astrid had in the lap of her mother while Charlie and Bertie were being entertained by Louis with a puppet.

“Look it’s papa!” smiled Isabella.

Harry lifted Charlie and Bertie into his arms giving them a kiss as he walked towards Isabella. He greeted his wife and daughter with a kiss and greeted Louis with a nod since his hands were now full with two of his children.

“How was the match?” asked Louis.

“Good. Same as always but the people were extra nice to me. They all asked so many questions about Isabella and the kids,” answered Harry.

“Oh, how did that go?”

“Well I was vague as possible and people were not happy about that. They wanted to know every little detail about the three of them.”

“People will always be invested in their lives,” commented Louis.

“He isn’t wrong. But thank you for being vague. They are just children and I don’t want their personal details being plastered all over the papers,” nodded Isabella.

“So Louis how is everything?” asked Harry.

“Good. The kids are with their mother for a couple of days and then I’m flying out to meet them.”

“Luxembourg I’m presuming.”

“Yes. Are you coming to Cabasson the beginning of June?” asked Louis.

“Of course. I think Alexandra mentioned something about a little thing to celebrate grandpapa. After all, it is the first time we are going to Cabasson since he passed away,” answered Isabella.

“I think Gabriella mentioned something as well. I plan on staying most of my holiday there, what about you and your family?” asked Louis.

“I don’t know. Harry?”

“We could stay for a week or two,” answered Harry.

“Oh and I’ll get to see Johannes and Anunciata since the wedding!” smiled Isabella.

“And Adelaide is pregnant,” added Louis.

“It’s been a slow year, don’t you think?”

“There was two babies, a wedding, and another on the way. I still can’t believe you call that a slow year,” laughed Harry.

“I have a feeling Imre and Kathleen are going to be expecting. They have kids every 2 years and Juliana is almost one,” thought Isabella.

“I would have thought Gabriella and Henri might be next,” added Louis.

“My money is Alexander and Luisa,” added Harry.

“Look at you already betting who’s going to have a baby next. It’s official, you’re part of the family,” joked Louis.

“Alexander and Luisa are still newlyweds and clearly in love. Choosing them seemed logical.”

“Just like you and Belle, huh? Charlie and Bertie close to your first wedding anniversary and Mary Astrid followed a year later. I expected to be godfather by next year,” jested Louis.

“Believe me there will enough children that all my cousins will be named godparents,” promised Isabella with a slight laugh.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We’ll see how what the future holds. You’ve had some difficult pregnancies,” smiled Harry.

“Mary-Astrid was a pleasant couple of months. Nothing like it was with Charlie and Bertie. Maybe another child will come along soon.”

[absoloutenonsense]

When you see this, post a snippet of your WIP.

Hades Harry and Persephone Louis are coming back to me. Welcome to my Underworld fic!

***

Harry peers over his book and tries not to make it obvious that he isn’t a student. 

Louis has just walked into the cafe and up to the counter, looking as gorgeous as ever. Fringe swept across his forehead, blue and black polo and some more relaxed jeans than Harry has seen in the past. He smiles at the girl behind the counter, and Harry lets the book slip a little through his fingers; he catches it just before it can topple over on the table. 

Harry adjusts his snapback and sinks a little lower in his seat. 

“Hi,” he hears from his right. He looks up at a pretty girl with auburn hair in low pigtails. She smiles at him and takes a sip of her iced coffee through the straw. “Could I sit here? All the other tables are taken and I was hoping to revise.”

Harry nods and smiles a little back at her, trying not to make it obvious when his eyes dart to Louis again. He’s handing over a fiver to pay for his drink, and drops his change in the tip jar. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the girl says, making no move to get books or a pen or even her phone out. 

He just nods and watches Louis laugh at something the barista tells him. His heart bursts and aches in the same moment. He’s desperate to make Louis laugh like that. 

“What’re you studying?”

“Insurance,” he says automatically. 

The girl furrows her brows. “I don’t think we have that as a course.”

Harry finally really looks at her. “What?”

“I said I don’t think that’s a course here. Did you mean business?”

And Harry doesn’t know. “Uh, I’m not really sure. I just got here.”

“Oh! You’re a transfer?”

“Yes,” he says, because that seems the right thing to say. 

“Where were you before?”

And it was the wrong thing to say. “Oh, you know. Here and there.”

“You don’t know where you were before this?”

“Uh…”

“Harold,” someone interrupts. And for a moment --a split second-- Harry is over the moon to have Louis’ eye on him. They’re just as blue as he remembers. But then he sees the hard edge to them, despite his forced smile. Harry can’t help but flicker his gaze down to his lips. 

“Louis,” Harry says. Well, says is generous, considering what comes out is barely more than a breath. 

The girl is looking back and forth between them. “Sorry, did I take your seat Louis?”

“No, love, wasn’t expecting to see Harold here today.”

“Is this your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Yes! Harry thinks. 

“No,” Louis says. “Harold here is free as a bird, aren’t you Harold?” But before Harry can speak up, Louis continues. “Wouldn’t mind him much, though, for you Kim. Seems like there’s a bit of chemistry here. I’ll leave you to it.” And he’s walking away. 

Harry just gapes after him before remembering he has two working legs. 

“Excuse me,” he says to the girl --Kim-- before turning around. 

“You forgot your book!” she calls after him. 

“Keep it!” he says over his shoulder, and then he’s nearly running to catch up to Louis. 

Louis isn’t running, but he might as well be at the speed he’s going. Harry can practically see steam coming out of his ears. When he catches up, Harry jogs for a moment before he can adequately pace himself to speed walk next to Louis. 

“Leave me alone, Harry.” 

“Louis--”

“Wow, ignoring what I ask for. What a shocker.”

“Louis please listen--”

“Wow, ignoring my blatant sarcasm in favor of pissing me off more. Who’d have thought.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me, I just wanted to check in,” Harry blurts out. And when Louis doesn’t immediately cut in again, he adds, “I’ve been worried about you.”

Louis stops so abruptly that Harry actually has gone too far and needs to turn around to face him. “Worried? Have you been worried? Well great. You’ve seen me. No need to be worried any longer.” And he’s off again, walking somehow even faster. How do mortals walk so fast?

Harry rushes to keep up, lagging behind Louis. He would prefer not to admit that it’s a struggle. “I get that I fucked up, I do. And I want to make it right.”

“It’s Spring, Harry, I don’t have to talk to you for another five months at least,” and he stops and turns again. Harry just about crashes into him. Louis has to put his hands up to Harry’s chest in order to keep them both from falling over. “How long have you been spying on me?”

Harry flushes. He can feel the warmth of Louis’ hands through his white band t-shirt, wants to pull him onto the grass and pin him so he has no choice but to be still and look at Harry. There are other reasons to pin Louis to the ground, but now isn’t the time to think about those. Part of Harry’s mind can’t help it. 

Louis pushes against his chest and asks, “How. Long.”

Harry mourns the loss of Louis’ fingertips on his body. But only briefly because Louis has fire in his eyes. “This is only the third time.”

“The third time.” Louis says it loud. Loud enough that a few people look their way as they walk past. He grabs him by the end of his shirt and pulls him in the direction of the nearest building. 

He turns around to spit out, “When.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand that Harry has no choice but to obey. 

“New Years Eve, when you were down the pub with your mates.”

“Where were you.” 

“Outside the pub, I just walked by the window.”

They get to a door. The smell of chlorine hits Harry in full force as it swings open and Louis pulls him inside. They’re in a little hallway with two doors on either side of them. Louis drops his hold on the edge of Harry’s t-shirt, but his fist-print remains through the wrinkled threads. 

“And,” Louis spits out. 

“And then in March. You were grocery shopping.”

Louis’ face screws up a bit as he presumably tries to pin-point the day. 

“Where were you.”

“Across the street, in the bakery.”

Louis shuts his eyes tightly and rubs his hands along his face a few times. “That’s not even--” he lets out a frustrated noise. “Why-- I don’t--” another noise. “What’s the point of that?”

Harry doesn’t hide his confusion. “I wanted to see you.”

“For two fucking seconds?”

Harry thinks maybe he gets what Louis is trying to stay. “I was worried if I stayed longer you’d see me.”

“Then why be so far away?”

“I got the feeling that you’d be able to sense me.”

“I did,” Louis says. 

“What?”

“Today. I sensed you. As soon as I walked into The Hideaway I could feel you looking at me. I got so pissed off, I thought you were looking at me through your seeing thing.”

“All Seer,” Harry corrects softly. And then tries to catch Louis’ eyes, which have been mostly hidden behind his hands. When he does --and Harry realized it’s the first time they’ve locked eyes this entire interaction-- he tells him earnestly, “I wouldn’t break your trust like that, Louis, not again.”

And just like that Louis is pressed so tightly to Harry’s body, mouth hot and wet against his. And fuck. His hands go instinctually to Louis’ waist, one resting just above his ass, but his mouth is still and his eyes wide open in shock. 

Louis pulls back to lock onto his eyes again, scowl and grit out, “Kiss me back you absolute fucking arsehole.” And he’s back on him in a flash, moving his hands up Harry’s neck in order to grab fistfuls of his hair. His hat falls off his head, and just as it hits the ground, Harry kisses back with a fury, deftly lifts Louis by the back of the thighs and flips them so he’s got Louis pinned against the wall. 

It smells overwhelmingly of pool water chemicals, but Harry couldn’t care less because mixed in is the smell of Louis, which he’s been deprived of for nearly four months. He groans at that and pushed Louis back harder into the wall. Louis lets out this little gasp against Harry’s mouth, which seems to make them both hungrier for more. 

Louis is still grabbing the roots of Harry’s hair with his left hand while his right untangles itself in order to press against Harry’s arse, pulling him even closer. 

And… maybe this isn’t the best idea. Or at the very least the best place. “Louis,” Harry murmurs against his lips. But he can’t bring himself to loosen his grip or even open his eyes. 

Louis answers by biting Harry’s bottom lip ferociously. He whimpers at it and involuntarily grinds against Louis’ hips, where he finds they’re both starting to get hard. 

Harry tries again with, “Maybe this isn’t--” 

But before he can get a full sentence out, the door to his left opens. Harry doesn’t much care about that, but it seems to pull Louis out of...whatever this is... enough to scramble out of Harry’s hold, pushing him away with hands to his chest. His eyes look wild and his lips look swollen from their makeout. And Harry has the feeling that he should be feeling embarrassed but all he can feel is satisfaction at the way Louis looks. 

“Alright, Lou,” someone says, a bit of humor in his voice. The nickname is the only reason Harry looks up. Walking towards them is a man, dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt, hair wet, presumably from the pool. He’s smirking at them. 

“Alright, Luke,” Louis answers, straightening his shirt and running a hand over his hair to get it back in order. Harry doesn’t move. Well, aside from puffing his chest out a little, which causes Louis to grimace. 

“We still on for the footie game, mate?” Luke says. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“See you,” he says, and then gives a wry nod to Harry. 

Louis must still be a little out of it, because Luke is through the door and it’s almost completely shut before he says, “See you.”

Harry tries to not sound completely jealous when he says, “Who’s that?”

“Luke from Econ. He organizes pickup games from time to time.”

Harry wants to push. Wants to ask how well they know each other. Is dying to know what that smirk directed at Harry meant. Feels his blood run hot at the idea of them hooking up. 

But before Harry can ask any more questions, Louis is pulling open the door and stepping outside. 

“Wait,” Harry opens the door and shouts after him. “We need to talk.”

Louis is just shaking his head but doesn’t rush off like he seemed hell-bent on doing before. 

“Lou, what just happened. Do you-- do you maybe want--”

“I just got caught up,” Louis interrupts. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I haven’t gotten laid in a while and you’re just --fuck-- you know I’m attracted to you. And I just got a little worked up. But I’m fine. Now. I’m okay now, it’s passed.”

There are so many things Harry wants to address, but he goes with the one that will tear him apart inside if he doesn’t know. 

“Have you slept with anyone since you’ve come back?”

“That is absolutely none of your business, Harry.”

Harry wants to scream that it is. That the last couple of weeks Louis was in the Underworld it was like they were really headed somewhere, that the last fews days it almost felt like-- like they were--

But then a rush of guilt washes over Harry. Because no matter what it felt like, and no matter how long it felt like that for, Harry was the one to ruin it. 

So instead of fighting that and instead of pushing Louis up against the tree trunk they’re passing as they walk, Harry says, “Okay.” He starts to slow his pace a bit, ready for Louis to continue on without him. 

When Louis notices Harry has fallen back, he slows his pace and turns around a bit. His face is now a mix between the dazed look from their makeout and the intense hardness from their fighting. He looks tired. With a sunken feeling in his chest, Harry realizes he caused that, too. 

Louis stops and waits for Harry to make it the last few steps to him. They are an arms-length distance apart from each other and Harry has never felt a distance so great. 

Louis sighs and waits for Harry to make eye contact before saying, “I need more time.”

Harry just nods. 

Louis nods back at him before turning on his heels and walking away. 

The only thing that saves him from going home and baiting Cerberus to eat him is that Louis looks over his shoulder just before he disappears from sight. He does this little half wave with just his fingers. It’s not what Harry wanted, but it’s something. 

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 5

Or: Flavia Becomes an Actual Character

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Back in St. Louis, Dire McCann’s back in his office by 3 AM.

It had been a long, brutal evening. One filled with more surprises than he imagined possible. Both during the reign of the Red Death... and after.

As he kicks back in his armchair, feet on his desk, the story immediately flashes back to the Club Diabolique. McCann had spent an hour or so in a relatable work predicament: being trapped in a room with your boss while he’s having a temper tantrum.

The room cleared of his brood, Vargoss had spent more than an hour raging to McCann about his progeny’s cowardice. The detective and the Dark Angels had been the only ones who had attempted to save the Prince from the Final Death. Vargoss made it quite clear that in nights to come, the regulars of the Club would pay for their weakness.

“I’m charging everyone extra for drinks! And- And you know what? No more casual Fridays! You come here dressed to the nines or you stay downstairs with the pale human children! Oh, and those jazz men! They didn’t help me either! No more jazz for the rest of the year! Until then it’s 50′s high school prom music, played by the whitest people I can find!”

“But sir, what will you listen to?”

“I’m the Prince of St. Louis, Dire McCann! I obviously have a Walkman.”

Although the Prince didn’t address the issue, there was no question that the Red Death’s attack had frightened him badly. Vargoss had exerted the full power of his will against the monster, without success. The vampire knew he had escaped the Final Death by luck alone. And there was no certainty that the Red Death would not return.

Once the old man finally tuckers himself out, he commands McCann to come back next evening and bids him goodnight, retreating through a secret passage to his inner sanctum in the subbasement.

McCann suspected the vampire planned phoning the other Ventrue elders throughout the United States to warn them of the attack.

Either that or take a post-rage nap.

His exit left McCann alone with Flavia.

“Sir, I’m not good with sexy grieving women. Sir, Prince Vargoss, don’t leave me alone with- Ah shit...”

The other vampires and ghouls in the Club were already long gone by this point.

Tonight, none of them evidenced any desire to wear the Prince’s crown. The Red Death served as a grim reminder of the perils of leadership.

But then maybe there was another reason none of them tried to save Vargoss... Nah, they were just terrified. That’s the thing about this setting. Characters are always plotting against you and each other and having ulterior motives so during those rare moments where someone’s being sincere it’s still easy to be paranoid. Most of the time, you’d be right to be so.

Back to poor Flavia. The whole time during what McCann’s POV describes as “Vargoss’ tiresome outburst” she sat on the floor, holding the burnt remains of her sister’s jumpsuit, unmoving, devastated. McCann, the big softie, feels compelled to say something. They’ve never really communicated before, beyond her and her sister making suggestive facial expressions at him and him trying to ignore them, so he goes with a safe Klingon approach.

“She died fighting,” he declared softly, stepping within a few feet of Flavia. Sympathy was fine, but not stupidity. If the Dark Angel took offense at his words, the detective wanted enough room to defend himself. “It was an honorable death.”

“She died horribly, in pain and screaming, and would have pissed herself if that were a thing vampires could still do, but she died the right way according to your strange and self-destructive warrior culture. W-What are you doi-GAAAAAAH!”

In reality, he’d said just the right thing. She looks at him, her cheeks stained crimson, the narration reminding us that vampires cry blood instead of tears, and speaks to him for the first time ever.

“Your concern for my feelings is appreciated, McCann,” she said, in a mellow, low voice, with a surprising trace of a British accent. [...] She cast a quick glance in the direction of the secret stairs leading to Vargoss’ hideaway. “Sympathy is often in short supply among the Kindred.”

There’s another employer getting a bad Glassdoor review.

“The Prince always lavishly praised the services provided by you and your sister,” said the detective, nervously. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up trouble between Vargoss and the remaining Dark Angel. “He treated you with respect.”

“He even showed you respect when he left the room without looking at you. They say that a real man shows his emotions with his back. I believe that’s a Japanese saying. Maybe Korean? Someone somewhere in the world says that... Please don’t kill our boss.”

Then the narration gets pervy for a paragraph.

In a smooth, catlike motion, Flavia rose to her feet. She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women McCann had ever seen.

Down boy. There’s a time and a place.

She had platinum blonde hair, high cheekbones, and wide, sensuous lips.

I’m aware. Those exact features were described back in Chapter One.

Her white leather jumpsuit accented her full breasts, narrow waist, and long, long legs.

Yeah yeah, I get it, she’s hella fine.

Sex might no longer hold any pleasure for the Dark Angel, but her body defined seduction.

Oh for God’s sake, she was just kneeling in her sister ashes! She’s been crying for the past hour and she still hasn’t wiped the bloody tears off her face! Now’s not an appropriate time!

Flavia laughed bitterly. “Respect? Vargoss never truly cared about us. We were his servants. He enjoyed bragging about our skills because it reflected onto himself.”

She smiled sardonically at the detective. “You understand, don’t you, McCann. He does the same with you.”

Without thinking, McCann nodded in agreement. The Prince liked showing off. And he treated his associates as prized possessions to be displayed whenever possible.

Pros for Alexander Vargoss:

Not above entering dirty alleyways when the situation calls for it

Huge balls (metaphorical)

Confidence in his employees’ abilities

Owns a sweet nightclub

Casual Fridays

Cons:

Brags about how he’ll outlive you

Old man opinions about rock music

Likes Stalin

Hour long rants

Unsympathetic toward his employees’ personal problems

Treats his employees like possessions

Tacky fashion sense

As fun as talking shit about the boss is, Flavia without warning changes the subject to her backstory. She and her sister were born Sarah and Eleanor James (she doesn’t say which was which, but next book we're told she's Sarah) in 19th century England. They were traveling around Europe for their fifteenth birthday when a Kindred kidnapped them.

“Our blonde good looks, lightning-fast reactions, and notorious taste for cruel delights caught the attention of a traveling Assamite assassin. He arranged our abduction and had us brought to Alamut.”

I don’t know what to focus on here: that only one of those qualities has anything to do with being an assassin, that the two sexual ones are being used to describe fifteen-year-olds, or how racially charged this whole scenario is with the presumably Middle Eastern man kidnapping two white girls.

“A taste for cruel delights?” repeated McCann.

“What, did you torture small animals to death or something?”

“Did we- No!”

“Oh I know. You’d befriend other rich girls, than systematically ruined their lives by spreading rumors and framing them for major scandals.”

“No! Why are you assuming these horrible things about us!?”

“You’d make your guards beat up random peasants-”

“It’s a sex thing, you wanker!”

“Fawn and I dallied in what now has become commonly known as bondage and S&M,” said Flavia, chuckling. Her long tongue circled her wide lips. “As sisters, we often shared our lovers. Even after we were embraced.”

“...Not at the same time, right?”

“What do you me- Ew! No! Separately!”

“‘Cause I know a lot of men have twin fantasies, but when you really think about it...”

“Well don’t, because that’s not what happened!”

...Wait, what was that about having lovers after they were embraced? I thought Kindred had no interest in sex.

“Despite what you think, McCann, vampires can still enjoy sex. Especially if the stimulation is mental as well as physical.”

The detective took a step back. He definitely did not like the Dark Angel’s tone of voice. Or the hint of an implied invitation.

Hey, you’re the one who wanted clarification on “cruel delights.” Ask a horny question, get a horny answer, Dire.

At Alamut, the twins trained for ten years at a mountain fortress, presumably Alamut Castle. I like to think that after executing the weird pedophile that kidnapped them, the Assamite elders figured “Ah screw it, these girls are already here, let’s teach them to fight.”

“The Assamite elders marveled at our skills. We fought well separately. However, as a team, we were unmatched. It was there that we earned the title The Dark Angels.”

“Unlike some people, we actually earned our nicknames instead of giving ourselves one.”

“For the last time, my name really is Dire.”

They were Embraced at age twenty-five and served the clan for over a century. They worked for many masters all over the world and stayed together the whole time.

“Thirty years ago, we performed several minor executions for Vargoss. Impressed, I suspect, more by our appearance than our skills, he agreed to a long-term contract with the Assamite elders. In three decades, we never failed in our duties to our lord. Until tonight.”

“And that one incident with the True Mime, but that doesn’t count. You can’t kill a True Mime.”

“I doubt stopping the Red Death constitutes a failure on your part,”  replied McCann. “I don’t think a Kindred in existence could have dealt with that monster.”

Flavia nodded. “Perhaps. I hope to meet the Red Death for a second encounter.” She paused, her expression turning grim. “Fawn’s Death will be avenged. I swear it.”  

Sensing that Flavia’s done with her backstory dump, McCann does his private eye thing and, playing dumb, asks her if she knew what discipline the Red Death was using.

“I’ve never heard of a Kindred who could control fire.”

“Nor I,” said Flavia. “I suspect he travels on the Path of Evil Revelation.”

Paths of Enlightenment are what the Sabbat and other not-very-nice vampires use to control their Beast. If they stuck to the Humanity scale like the Camarilla do, then all their mass murder and mustache-twirling villainy would degenerate them into barely sentient blood-crazed monsters in no time. Instead they use Paths, many of whose morality could be, at best, described as “alien”, and at worst, “It is Right and Good to wear a cloak made from the hide of virgins, for it is in the nature of vampires to do so.”

I suspect a Path follower would be the source of the most obnoxious “We are The Dead, we are Monsters, we are Fueled by Blood and must Accept it” speeches one could imagine in the World of Darkness.

The Path of Evil Revelations is an actual thing in the lore. If you don’t want to click the link, the story sums it up:

The Path of Evil Revelation was a secret discipline practiced by many members of the Sabbat. It taught that evil was good and that vampires were the agents of corruption. Followers of the path routinely dealt with demonic forces.

Though it’s less “dealt with demonic forces” and more “pledge servitude to the Lords of Hell.” To sum it up even more: You’re Evil, Obey Demons.

McCann then says that he once heard of a forbidden rite called the Body of Fire (presumably from a friend of a friend, right McCann?) and asks if she’d ever heard of it. She hasn’t, but- Oh goddamn it, more things I have to define. She says she only knows of Fires of Inferno, which she says is one of the “Paths of Dark Thaumaturgy” practiced by the Corrupters (a name for followers of the PoER). 

Despite Flavia using the word “Path”, Dark Thaumatergy isn’t a Path of Enlightenment. It’s blood magic learned from demons, unlike regular Thaumatergy, which the Tremere learned by doing mad scientist shit to other vampires. Honestly, origin-wise, I’m not convinced Dark Thaumatergy is the eviler of the two.

Fires of (the) Inferno is the Dark Thaumatergy version of regular Thaumatergy’s Lure of Fire, which allows a vampire to summon “unnatural fire” thought to be from Hell itself. Fires of the Inferno is green, definitely from Hell, and according to the wiki “has only one use: destruction,” meaning you shouldn’t make a campfire using it.

What we get from this is that while some vampires can summon a magic otherworldly fire, they can’t control it and use it as some kind of death aura like the Red Death can. And, y’know, considering that the guy’s not calling himself the Green Death, he likely isn’t using Fires of the Inferno itself. Whatever the case, Flavia says she intends to find out more.

She stepped closer to McCann. “You are an unusual human,” she declared. “Even for a mage, you are aware of too many of the darkest secrets of the Children of Caine.”

Uh oh! The Master Schemer isn’t as good at playing dumb as he thought!

Without warning, Flavia’s right hand lashed out at McCann, second and third fingers stiff and aimed directly at his eyes.

Ah yes, the Moe Howard Strike.

Luckily, our would-be Curly saves himself from a humiliating death by grabbing her wrist using super fast reflexes equal to her own. Wait, using...

Dire McCann, you dumbass.

Flavia laughed, a wild, untamed sound. “No ordinary man could move that swiftly, McCann. Nor stop me from making contact.”

McCann fell for the old “attack the hero in a way that reveals their powers” trick. He tries to backpedal by being all, “Well yeah, I’m not ordinary, I’m a mage!” while mentally cursing himself and realizing that Flavia’s more cunning than he assumed. Flavia’s not having any of his excuses. She got him.

Flavia shook her head, grinning. “No Kine could have halted that lunge. Nor any mage. Don’t worry. I won’t betray you to Vargoss. He pays for my fighting skills, not my thoughts.”

“What are you babbling about?” asked McCann, fearing the worst.

“The hell’s going on? The fanservice bodyguard isn’t suppose to be smart!”

The narration’s been coy so far about what exactly McCann really is. Now, Flavia tells him her theory.

“There are rumors,” said Flavia, “of certain fourth-generation Kindred with incredible powers of domination. They are called Masqueraders. Their minds are so strong that while they lie in torpor, they can reach out and overwhelm a mortal’s personality. They literally possess their victim, body and soul. In this manner, these Methuselahs again experience true life. Puppet masters, they masquerade in mortal form--eating, drinking, sleeping, making love. For safety, they endow their marionette with some of their powers. Enough perhaps for the person to claim to be a ghoul—or a mage.”

“So no, your name really isn’t fucking ‘Dire’.”

...Huh. That’s a doozy. Not what I would guessed, and not a concept I’ve seen in recent V:TM media.

McCann laughed, trying to appear amused. “What utter nonsense.”

Flavia smiled. “Protest all you wish, Dire McCann,” she said. “If you didn’t, I might be worried.”

Then, because this is a nerd book written by a guy, she french kisses him.

Slowly, seductively, she leaned forward and pressed cold lips to his. Her tongue, a sliver of ice, darted for an instant into his mouth. 

Despite her movements being deliberately slower than her attempted eye poke, and her now being well into murder-you-with-my-hands range, something tells me McCann didn’t try very hard to avoid her kiss here.

Also, McCann’s 6′4. Either she’s also really tall or she’s standing on the pile of ashes that were once Fawn to reach his lips.

“I would be very grateful for the patronage of a Methuselah.” Her lush body pressed against him, her taut nipples hard against his chest. “Extremely grateful.”

Hang on. He can feel her nipples through a leather jumpsuit and his own clothes? Can vampire nipples even get hard? Is it a discipline? 

McCann forced himself to remain quiet. He had said too much already.

Since McCann’s shutting the fuck up for his own good, Flavia decides now’s the time to say goodnight. She says that she has to go see Vargoss before he notices she’s not around and gets pissed at that too.

“Do not expect me to address you aloud unless we are alone.” She chuckled. “Vargoss prefers his bodyguards never speak. He enjoys the air of mystery it creates.”

“Although now that I think about it, since he hired us mainly for our looks and doesn’t want us to speak, I’m starting to think he’s just a pig.”

With that, the flashback ends and we’re back in McCann’s office. You forgot that most of this chapter’s technically a flashback, didn’t you?

McCann, sitting behind the desk in his office an hour later, furiously masturbated banged his head against it repeatedly yelling “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” vowed never to show sympathy to anyone ever again sighed heavily. The detective folded his arms across his chest. For all her grief, the Dark Angel had not stayed in mourning very long. He trusted Flavia not to reveal her suspicions to the Prince for as long as it suited her purposes, and not a second more. If not handles properly, the Dark Angel could prove to be as dangerous to him as the Red Death.

McCann’s POV doesn’t out and out say that Flavia’s right, but it doesn’t deny it either.

McCann finally shakes the Flavia incident out of his head and gets to work on finding out more about the Red Death, starting by making some calls. We also get this gem:

A careful man reacted immediately to any threat. And McCann liked to think of himself as very wise.

...No comment.

McCann moves some money around and issues instructions, and when he’s done he’s got teams of researchers studying both the Path of Evil Revelations and whether there are any Nictuku that match the Red Death’s description. Not much is said about these researchers, but hopefully they’re vampires or ghouls, or backed by such, or else McCann’s committing a serious Masquerade breach.

He believes that the Nictuku rising and the Red Death’s arrival are connected, and he opens his desk drawer to get the letters he read back in Chapter 2.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand they’re gone. Someone broke into his office while he was away and stole his letters.

McCann cursed, steadily, in seven languages, including two that had not been spoken on Earth for over three thousand years, until he was out of breath. Angrily, he slammed a fist into the side of the desk. Wood splintered, delivering a small amount of satisfaction along with a strong recognition that he was acting foolishly.

Careful and wise? Maybe. Mature? Eh, that’s up in the air.

He swears not to make the mistake of underestimating his unknown adversary, or adversaries, again. Chapter 5 ends with one last reveal:

It was then that he noticed, resting on the edge of his desk, almost like a calling card, a bright green sequin.

You think Rachel Young carries a jar of those around, or does she just tear them off her dress?

[ofallingstar]

First lines from the books I read in 2018

Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd: Thus is 1711, the ninth year of the reign of Queen Anne, an Act of Parliament was passed to erect seven new Parish Churches in the Cities of London and Westminster, which commission was delivered to Her Majesty’s Office of Works in Scotland Yard.

Métamorphose en bord de ciel by Mathias Malzieu: Les oiseaux, ça s'enterre en plein ciel.

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen: The family of Dashwood had been long settled in Sussex.

Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé by Mathias Malzieu: Le plus petit baiser jamais recensé.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll: Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?”

Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll: One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it -it was the black kitten’s fault entirely.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson: Ba-room, ba-room, ba-room, baripity, baripity, baripity, baripity-Good.

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin: Dear James: I had begun this letter five times and torn it up five times.

The Secret in Their Eyes by Eduardo Sacheri: Benjamín Miguel Chaparro stops short and decides he’s not going.

At the Mountains of Madness by H. P. Lovecraft: I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why.

The Minds of Billy Milligan by Daniel Keyes: This books is the factual account of the life, up to now, of William Stanley Milligan, the first person in U.S. history to be found not guilty of major crimes, by reason of unsanity, because he possessed multiple personalities.

The Bad Beginning by Lemony Snicket: If you are interested in stories in happy endings, you would be better off reading some other book.

Puckoon by Spike Milligan: Several and a half metric miles North East of Sligo, split by a cascading stream, her body on earth, her feet in water, dwells the microcephalic community of Puckoon.

Piercing by Ryu Murakami: A small living creature asleep in its crib.

The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket: The stretch of the road that leads out of this city, past Hazy Harbor and into the town of Tedia, is perhaps the most unpleasant in the world.

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini: So, then.

The Shape of Water by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus: Richard Strickland reads the brief from General Hoyt.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell: He’d stopped trying to bring her back.

Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell: The Rue du Coq d’Or, Paris, seven in the morning.

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart: Welcome to the beautiful Sinclair family.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusack: First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

The Wide Window by Lemony Snicket: If you didn’t know much about the Baudelaire orphans, and you saw them sitting on their suitcases at Damocles Dock, you might think they were bound for an exciting adventure.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream.

Battles in the Desert by José Emilio Pacheco: I remember, I don’t remember.

The Miserable Mill by Lemony Snicket: Sometime during your lifetime -in fact, very soon- you may find yourself reading a book, and you may notice that a book’s first sentence can often tell you what sort of story your book contains.

The Age of American Unreason by Susan Jacoby: The word is everywhere, a plague spread by the President of the United States, television anchors, radio talk show hosts, preachers in megachurches, self-help gurus, and anyone else attempting to demostrate his or her identification with ordinary, presumably wholesome American values.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare: Theseus, duke of Athens, is planning the festivities for his upcoming wedding to the newly captured Amazon, Hippolyta.

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert: We were in study hall when the headmaster walked in, followed by a new boy not wearing a school uniform, and by a janitor carrying a large desk.

The Austere Academy by Lemony Snicket: If you were going to give a gold medal to the last delightful person on Earth, you would have to give that medal to a person named Carmelita Spats, and if you didn’t give it to her, Carmelita Spats was the sort of person who would snatch it from your hands anyway.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare: Christopher Sly, a drunken beggar, is driven out of an alehouse by its hostess.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee: When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: My name is Katy H.

Hear the Wind Sing by Haruki Murakami: “There’s no such thing as a perfect piece of writing.”

The Ersatz Elevator by Lemony Snicket: The book you are holding in your two hands right now -assuming that you are, in fact, holding this book, and that you have only two hands- is one of two books in the world that will show you the difference between the words “nervous” and the word “anxious.”

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare: Two households, both alike in dignity, (In fair Verona, where we lay our scene), From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Adventure Time: The Enchiridion & Marcy’s Super Secret Scrapbook!!!: My Devoted Evil Daighter, Marceline, I admit we’ve had a somewhat volatile father-daughter relantionship ever since the regrettable Fry Incident.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin: Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with desinterest.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.

Pinball, 1973 by Haruki Murakami: I used to love listening to stories about faraway places.

The Vile Village by Lemony Snicket: No matter who you are, no matter where you live, and no matter how many people are chasing you, what you don’t read is often as important as what you do read.

Dracula by Bram Stoker: 3 May. Bistritz. –Left Munich at 8:35 P.M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:43, but train was an hour late.

The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare: I know this hartred mocks all Christian virtue, but They I loathe: their very sight  abhors me.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac: I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up.

A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami: It was a short one-paragraph item in the morning edition.

The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket: There are two reasons why a writer would end a sentence with the word “stop” written in entirely in capital letters STOP.

The Most Beautiful: My Life with Prince by Mayte Garcia: The chain-link fence around Praisley Park is woven with purple ribbons and roses, love notes, tributes, and prayers for peace.

Hamlet by William Shakespeare: Who’s there?

A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin: The comet’s tail spread across the dawn, a red slash that bled above the crags of Dragonstone like a wound in the pink and purple sky.

Out of Africa by Isak Dinensen: I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of Ngong Hills.

Carrie by Stephen King: News item from the Westover (Me.) weekly enterprise, August 19, 1966: RAIN OF STONES REPORTED.

The Carnivorous Carnival by Lemony Snicket: When my workday is over, and I have closed my notebook, hidden my pen and sawed holes in my rented canoe so it cannot be found, I often like to spend the evening in conversation with my few surviving friends.

Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick: The P-38 WWII Nazi handgun looks comical lying on the breakfast table next to a boal of outmeal.

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: The story had held us, round the fire, sufficiently breathless, but except the obvious remark that it was gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve on an old house, a strange tale should essentially be, I remember no comment uttered till somebody happened to say that it was the only tale he had met in which such a visitation had fallen on a child.

Carmilla by Sheridan J. Le Fanu: Upon a paper attached to the Narrative which follows, Doctor Hesselius has written a rather elaborated note, which he accompanies with a reference to his Essay on the strange subject which the MS. illuminates.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson: No one has ever suffered as I have.

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski: I still get nightmares.

Othello by William Shakespeare: In the streets of Venice, Iago tells Roderigo of his hatred for Othello, who has given Cassio the lieutenancy that Iago wanted and has made Iago a mere ensign.

Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami: I often dream about the Dolphin Hotel.

The Slippery Slope by Lemony Snicket: A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called “The Road Less Traveled,” describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou: “What you looking at me for? I didn’t come to stay…”

A Most Haunted House by G. L. Davies: The house first came to my attention a few  years ago.

Ghost Sex, The Violation by G. L. Davies: I met with Lisa at her home in Pembroke Dock.

Any Man by Amber Tamblyn: Am I in a body?

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay: “This must be so difficult for you, Meredith.”

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin: The day was grey and bitter cold, and the dogs would not take the scent.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare: When shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain?

You by Caroline Kepnes: You walk into the bookstore and you keep your hand on the door to make sure it doesn’t slam.

The Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket: After a great deal of examining oceans, investigating rainstorms and staring very hard at several drinking fountains, the scientists of the worlds developed a theory regarding how water is distributed around our planet, which they have named “the water cycle.”

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys: They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: About thirthy years ago, Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the country of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet’s lady, with all the comforts and consequences of a handsome house and a large income.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë: My name is Gilbert Markham, and my story begings in October 1827, when I was twenty-four years old.

The Tempest by William Shakespeare: Boatswain!

Lucky by Alice Sebold: In the tunnel where I was raped, a tunnel that was once an underground entry to an amphitheather, a place where actors burst forth from underneath the seats of a crowd, a girl had been murdered and dismembered.

The Penultimate Peril by Lemony Snicket: Certain people had said that the world is like a calm pond, and that anytime a person does even the smallest thing, it is as if a stone has dropped into the pond, spreading circles of ripples further and further out, until the entire world has been changed by one tiny action.