#signed a lesbian from a small dark town full of old people who was very afraid of dying there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kat-tamin · 3 years

Text

you’re a cowboy like me

For Women of SVU Week 2021: Day Six: There was only one bed

Ship: Kat x Amanda

Warnings: Smut, including oral and fingering

Word Count: 2115

“Rollins, I just got word that our suspect got picked up in Westhampton's. We need to go pick him up.”

Amanda looked up at Kat. “When?”

“ASAP. ADA wants him arraigned tomorrow.” Kat gave the older detective a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Rollins. Hamptons PD says we can get him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That means leaving tonight.” Amanda rubbed her forehead in frustration. “I’ll see if I can get someone to watch the girls.”

“Sorry, Rollins.” Kat smiled, trying to come up with something comforting. “On the bright side, mini vacay? I can make us a road trip mix.”

“Fine.” Amanda grabbed her keys, heading for the elevator. “Go pack a bag. I’ll meet you back here.” She paused, turned back to Kat. “None of that mumble rap crap, though. That’s not music.”

___

An almost 3 hour drive for two people who didn’t know each other that well was practically torture. The majority of the drive was spent in awkward silence. The only time they spoke was to discuss the landscape, or the case they were currently working on, Kat’s 90s music mix filling in the gaps of conversation.

This wasn’t like Kat, or Amanda. They were both quite talkative women, but there seemed to be an underlying awkwardness between them when they weren’t at work. Neither was quite sure why. They just didn’t seem to have a lot in common. Kat was young, while Amanda was a mom. That alone made their lives very different.

Chasing Waterfalls by TLC came up on the mix, and Amanda automatically turned the volume up.

“You like this?” Kat raised her voice to be heard over the music.

Amanda nodded, grinning. “Reminds me of when I was young.”

“Me too! I remember them playing it at my elementary school graduation!”

Amanda turned to her wide eyed. “Your what?”

“Yeah, it was fun- what?” Kat glanced at Amanda’s disgusted face.

“Kat, this played at my senior prom.”

Kat snorted, and quickly covered her open mouth with her hand. “Sorry, Rollins.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Amanda muttered. “Respect your elders, Tamin.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Kat’s tone of voice made Amanda’s breath catch in her throat. She had to quickly right the car so it wouldn’t swerve into the other lane.

Finally, the two SVU members made it to the motel that the department had booked for the night. It was just outside town, close to the station. Kat would have preferred to be closer to the ocean, but beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to a free hotel room.

Kat noticed Amanda was already walking into the office, and hurried after her, catching the door just before it closed.

“You must be the NYPD!” The cheerful, older woman working greeted them. “One bed, right?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kat leaned on the check in desk, blinking in surprise.

“That’s what was booked.” The woman peered at her screen. “A queen sized room.”

“But there’s two of us,” Amanda reminded her, her voice tight.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I’m afraid I’m all booked up otherwise.” The worker scrunched up her nose. “I think I may have a cot lying around.”

Kat and Amanda glanced at each other, their eyes wide. A motel cot was just asking for a messed up back for a week.

“We can share.” Amanda turned back to the counter. “Right, Kat?”

“Right.” Kat suddenly felt very thirsty, her throat dry. “No big deal.”

After dumping their bags in their room, neither looking at the single bed, Amanda suggested they find a pub to eat at. “I could use a drink.”

Luckily, there was a bar down the street that served dinner. It was dark and dirty, but Kat didn’t mind. The smell of grease made her stomach growl, and her mouth water. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, forgoing lunch to finish up paperwork.

“Drink?” Amanda didn’t wait for Kat’s answer, flagging down the bartender.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.” Her eyes went to the blackboard menu. “And a burger with fries.”

The bartender nodded, then looked at Kat. “You?”

“Scotch and soda, please. I’ll have the burger too.”

He left to put in their order, and Kat’s eyes wandered over the tight space, with it’s neon signs and bright decor. “This reminds me of this lesbian bar in Brooklyn.”

“Ginger’s.”

Kat turned to Amanda, surprised. “You know it?”

Amanda just shrugged. “Of course.”

Their drinks were put down on the bartop, interrupting Kat’s follow up questions before they could start.

The combination of liquor and the exhaustion from the drive loosened their tongues. Over their greasy meals, Amanda and Kat found that they had more in common then they first thought.

Besides the obvious work connection, they bonded over the fact that they grew up pretty poor. This started a debate about whether it was worse to be in a New York winter without heat, or a summer in Georgia without air conditioning.

“You can’t say Winter is worse. You’ve never experienced summer in the south.” Kat noticed Amanda’s accent became more pronounced, whether it was from the talk of home or the alcohol. “You sleep naked, but still wake up hot and sticky.”

Kat’s thoughts betrayed her by imaging Amanda’s body sticky with sweat. She took a large swig of her drink, blood rushing to her cheeks.

___

The air was thick with tension as they changed into their pajamas, and slipped under the covers. Kat made sure to stick as close to the edge as possible, not wanting to make the other woman uncomfortable. She didn’t know many straight girls who were cool with sleeping in the same bed as her, unless they weren’t as straight as they said.

Was Amanda one of those girls? She knew about Ginger’s, after all. Maybe she’s just an ally, Kat thought. She had at least slept with two men, Kat knew for sure. There was no indication that Amanda was into women. Except the niggling feeling Kat got when Amanda stood a certain way, or the way she dressed sometimes. Her internal radar always seemed to ping when she looked at Amanda.

On the other side of the bed, Amanda turned onto her side. Then tossed onto her other side. Then on her back. She heard Kat shift. “Sorry,” Amanda whispered. “Can’t get comfy.”

“All good.” Kat turned to face Amanda. “Do you want me to ask for the cot?”

“Nah.” Amanda craned her neck to look at her. “Unless you want to.”

She felt Kat shake her head. “I’m used to sharing a bed.”

“With your girlfriend?” Amanda’s voice came out confrontational, making her wince.

Kat stiffened. “No, with my sister.”

“Oh.”

They laid in silence for a minute. A passing car illuminated their room for a flash.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend in a while,” Kat whispered.

“Yeah, the pandemic kinda killed the dating game,” Amanda replied, folding her hands over her stomach. “Men weren’t really beating down the door before then either.”

“But you’re so beautiful!” Kat blurted out.

Amanda just chuckled sadly. “A lot of the guys I meet don’t want an automatic family.”

Kat propped herself on her elbow. “Not even to hook up?”

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m getting too old to play that game.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re fucking hot.” Woah, where’d that come from? Kat winced.

Amanda slowly turned towards Kat, their faces close now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah...”

In a split second, Amanda made a decision. She moved, and pressed her lips to Kat’s, who eagerly responded. Their movements became rushed, and soon Kat was pulling at Amanda’s tee. Amanda slipped it over her head, then helped Kat out of her own.

“Have you done this before?” Kat couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes.” Amanda’s mouth moved to Kat’s earlobe, her breath hot.

“At Ginger’s?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” Amanda bit down gently on her ear, making Kat moan. The sound flooded Amanda’s stomach with heat.

Amanda moved down Kat’s body, leaving open mouthed kisses. Her fingers ghosted over the front of Kat’s sports bra, making her nipples pebble. She leaned down, biting at one gently through the fabric.

“Oh, fuck!” Amanda hurriedly captured Kat’s groan in her mouth. Their tongues slipped over each other, wet and slick.

Amanda’s hand slipped under Kat’s hips, pulling down her pants and underwear in one tug.

“Let me see you,” Amanda said, leaning over to snap on the lamp.

Now in the light, Kat could get a good look at Amanda leaning over her, her bare chest right in front of Kat’s face. Her breasts were full and round with pink stretch marks, and tiny nipples.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Kat breathed.

Amanda’s face broke into a cocky grin. “Not so bad yourself.”

They met back in a hurried kiss, tongues swirling around each other.

Kat felt Amanda’s hand on her inner thigh, stroking the sensitive skin. Kat shivered at the sensation, her eyes closing.

“What do you want?” Amanda’s voice in her ear.

Kat’s legs opened wider, begging for her touch. “Anything. You.”

Amanda’s mouth took her previous path, this time making it all the way down to where she wanted her most, the scent making Amanda’s mouth water.

She slid a finger down Kat’s slit, making the other woman gasp. She couldn’t help but tease, liking the way Kat’s eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“Amanda, please...”

Amanda ducked her head down, her mouth taking her finger’s place. She teased Kat’s entrance with her tongue, savoring the wetness that gathered there.

“Please.”

Her tongue made contact with Kat’s clit, making her back arch. Kat’s thighs tightened around Amanda’s head more and more with every swipe.

“Fuck, just like that.”

Kat let out a gasp, Amanda’s mouth sucking hard on her clit. Heat built in Kat’s body, her muscles growing tight. The sheets were curled tight in her clenched fists.

“I’m close!”

Amanda could feel her, the wetness clinging to her lips, Kat’s hand moving to her hair, pulling gently as she pressed her cunt closer to Amanda’s face. Amanda suddenly pushed two fingers into her pussy, making Kat finally cum with a small scream of her name.

Amanda scissored her fingers, letting Kat ride out her orgasm, then moved up her body to give her a kiss, letting Kat taste herself on Amanda’s tongue.

Kat used the distraction to flip Amanda onto her back, straddling her hips. “My turn.”

Amanda shimmied out of her bottoms, finally leaving her bare. “Be my guest.”

Kat took her time, hands tracing Amanda’s breasts and collarbone. The light touch raised goosebumps on her body, her nipples hard. Kat circled one, then the other.

“Harder.” Amanda’s hand went to her own chest to demonstrate the strong pinch she liked.

“You like it rough, huh?” Kat decided to up the game, and bit down on Amanda’s nipple instead.

Amanda groaned. “Fuck yeah, like that.”

Kat took the nipple in her mouth, sucking and biting the flesh. Amanda moaned loudly, her hand drifting down to her clit.

In a flash, Kat grabbed her wrist. “Nuh uh.” Kat grabbed the other wrist, and pinned them above Amanda’s blonde head. “Do I need to grab the cuffs?” Kat licked a stripe along Amanda’s neck. “Or are you going to be good?”

“I’ll be good,” Amanda promised. “But you should probably get going.” She bucked her hips pointedly, urging Kat to her pussy.

“Keep your hands there,” Kat ordered. She let go of Amanda, testing her. To her credit, Amanda didn’t move. “Good girl.”

She moved down the bed so she could get into a better position in front of Amanda’s cunt. It was mostly bare, except for a small triangle of blonde hair. Her lips were wet with her slick.

Kat stroked her clit with her thumb, and in a quick move, thrust three fingers deep into her pussy, finding no resistance.

Amanda screamed, but didn’t move her hands to push Kat away. Kat pistoned in and out of her. “So good taking my fingers, baby.”

Kat’s words made Amanda tighten, her walls clenching down against Kat’s fingers. She moves her hand to massage Amanda’s front wall, the spot that Amanda could never reach on her own.

It wasn’t long before Amanda was shuddering and gasping. “Oh, God….”

Kat withdrew her hand, pressing them into Amanda’s mouth. Her tongue made good work of cleaning off the younger girl’s fingers.

They both laid on their backs, breathing hard. Kat reached over to turn the lamp off, plunging the room back into darkness.

Amanda curled on her side, and Kat slung an arm around her waist, burying her face in her neck.

All tangled up, their tiny bed didn’t seem as small anymore.

#wsvu week #kat tamin #amanda rollins #kat x amanda #tamlins #fanfic #svu #kat tamin fanfic #*

30 notes · View notes

nitannichionne · 3 years

Text

Leading Lady, Chapter 4: Check and Mate (A Henry Cavill Cast Fic)

Chapter 4; Check and Mate (Shane/Henry Cavill POV)

This was almost fun.

I landed in Chicago a full two days before I was to meet Laura, a full day before Rick was supposed to follow. I didn't want him with me. This part seemed very personal.

Kendra Kincaid was closely connected to Kitara Kingston, I managed to find that out, but not much more. That wasn't very hard to find, except that Kendra Kincaid was connected to a Kianna, an erotica writer who was popular for a spell quite a few years ago. After reading that stuff, I was blown away a bit. She sounded...really experienced, sharpening my curiosity. She sounded worldly, she seemed terribly confident yet vulnerable. In all our texts she had an answer or a question that led to an answer. I was reading and rereading our texts, our emails, everything. I was confident; I had so many signs to look for now. After the eight hour flight I began to believe that Kendra, Kitara and Kianna may be one and the same.

I rested up, got my hours right and basically strode into Laura Davidson's office unannounced. I found the young woman whom I saw with her in Britain sitting at the desk, rifling through the drawers. She was still working for her,I assumed. I looked her over, smiling at the fact she was still wearing those athletic form fitting pants that showed the outline of a cell phone in her cargo pocket but she had waistcoat that showed off her hips and bum with a shell underneath that accentuated her form. Her hair was longer, I remembered shoulder length hair-or extensions. Now she had a long pixie cut that framed a cute face. I saw more this time, or maybe it was that Laura was my focus then. "Excuse me."

She looked up, did a double take, gasped and stared. "May I... help you?"

"Yes, I was wondering if Laura Davidson was in?"

"Uh, yes, she is, but..." she looked around and picked up a calendar. She looked through it. "Do you have an appointment today?" She turned in her seat, and in so doing, knocked over a pencil cup and picture frame. "Oh, sorry!"

"No worries," I smiled. "Regrettably, no, I am set for tomorrow." She was a nervous thing, more than I remembered.

"Oh, I was afraid I'd made some mistake!" she laughed softly, averting my gaze. "And you are...?"

"Zachary Sheridan?"

She gasped. "I knew you looked familiar!" She looked about, seeming out of sorts. "One moment." She rose and went into the office with her notebook...without knocking?

As soon as the door clicked closed, I examined the desk. There was a comm system on it. She could have called in. I could hear hushed voices behind the door. I couldn't understand anything but the tones were anxious and clipped and almost argumentative. I quietly opened the bottom drawer with my foot. Empty. No purse? Most women carry a bag of some sort of bag to work with all their needs for the day. She didn't have one. I picked up the frame and saw a picture of a blonde haired woman and two young children. I set it back in its place, face down. That is not who greeted me, making me wonder who this woman was. Was she part of a lesbian couple? No, not the way she looked at me...unless this wasn't her desk at all. Most people reflexively right a fallen frame, unless one is trying to hide something...?

The assistant opened the door. "She'll see you now," She held the door for me. As soon as I walked through I sensed her gaze follow, but when I looked she was looking at Laura. Laura nodded before she left. What the...?

"Laura!" I smiled, extending my hand. "Recently arrived, wanted to say hi, sorry for my--"

"No problem," she nodded. "Seems you came at the perfect time." She gestured for me to take a seat. "How was your flight?"

"Oh, fine, fine," I nodded, not losing eye contact with her. She looked uneasy. "but Kendra isn't here so I wouldn't say that the timing was perfect." I sat down. She chuckled a bit nervously, and I laughed politely. "Will she--"

"Something to drink, Mr. Sheridan?" the assistant offered, smiling as she handed me my favorite brand of water.

Hold on. Did they know I was coming? "Thank you." I looked at these two. Something was up. I listened to Laura go on about how happy she is to see me again, how excited she was that I was interested in playing roles...she was stalling, but for what?

And the assistant hadn't moved. Where was the notebook in her hand that she had?

My eyes traveled to Laura's desk. The notebook was there. It had tabs on the sides made of post-its. Kendra had described that to me in texts. It was how she kept her notes for different projects, dividing the notebook into a story journal herself. I frowned, looking at the cell phone in her pocket. She believed in being as hands free as possible. I read that in a text from her! I had seen that makeshift journal someplace else!

Britain.

That was her. That was...her! I watched her. She folded her hands behind her back military style. That was when I noticed the scar the pixie cut covered. I looked at her face and she averted her gaze. The cut was specifically to cover it. There's a story there...

"I know you wanted to meet her--" Laura glanced at her so-called assistant. "But she is off doing research for another book. You know how that is sometimes."

"Quite." I wanted to call her on that lie, but I needed more proof. On every card she ever sent, she crossed her Z's. No one does that. It was a mix of penmanship and calligraphy, and terribly distinct.

"But I want you to know she has great faith in your ability--"

"Very believable--" the assistant offered. I looked at her-that turn of phrase was unique. She swallowed hard. "She said that, I remember."

"Would you have your assistant send flowers for me?" I asked, not losing eye contact with her.

"What?"

"I wanted to send flowers to an old friend, let her know I'm in town?" I asked. I watched Laura look at now who I suspected was Kitara Kingston. She had flinched, gone still.

"Sure!" she said too brightly. "Name?"

"Would you write the message?" I asked. "It's important."

"Sure," she said. Laura handed her the notebook and she flipped to the last page. "Yes?"

I stood up, and she backed a step. I'm almost two meters and she was less than half a meter shorter. Her eyes went wide for a second as our gazes locked. I'd bet my horse now. I stepped slightly behind her as if to watch her work. Kendra texted that the alcohol in fragrances affected her sinuses and gave her headaches, so she wore scented oils instead. "It's to Samantha Zane." I took a slow inhale...oils, check...

"Samantha..." She wrote. The S was right. "Z-a-"

YES! Perfect match! "N-e." I took a deep breath, inhaling the scented oils on her skin, then blew slightly in the direction of her ear and neck. Kendra once told me that a man lightly breathing in her ear could drive her mad.

"Message?" Her voice was a squeak.

I smiled. I've got you, darling. "Dear Sam, thanks so much for offering to find Kendra Knight for me."

She stopped writing for a second and then slowly resumed. "Anything else?"

"But it seems I am fully capable of finding her myself."

The whole room went silent, so silent that all we could hear was a small desk fountain doing its job on a small table in the corner.

"Found her?" Laura's eyes were wide.

"Why yes, so how about we let the actor and writer have a chat?" I asked. From behind, I took the notebook and pen from "the assistant's" hands and dropped them on my seat, effectively blocking her from any escape. "You agents can meet with us tomorrow."

"The assistant" had nothing to say as I took her by the hand turned her to me for a better look. Her dark eyes looked huge, reminding me of a startled doe, and she looked like she was holding her breath. Too late, I wanted to tell her. She turned away. I knew she was trying to compose herself.

"Kendra? Kianna?" I whispered in her ear and turned her to me again. "Or should I say Kitara?"

UH-OH! Reblogs, likes and comments totally appreciated! Thanks!

@mistress-of-ward @summersong69 @griscka75 @kebabgirl67

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x cougar #henry cavill x black female #august walker #will shaw #clark kent #superman #walter marshall #geralt #captain syverson #witcher

26 notes · View notes

katieskarlette · 4 years

Text

Shadows Rising: A Reaction Post

Short, mostly non-spoilery version: I liked it overall. I give it a solid B, maybe a B+.

I was disappointed in how little Nathanos and/or Sylvanas content there was, but I think proclamations of the ship’s doom are premature.

I’m intrigued by the first rumblings of new character development for certain characters, especially Anduin, Alleria and Turalyon.

I was rooting for Talanji so much. She’s great. Zekhan is a cinnamon roll too pure for this world. Sira was kind of boring. Fairshaw is so darn heartwarming I can’t stand it. I like Bwonsamdi more now. The lack of Wrathion is unsurprising but unfortunate. Nothing new with Tyrande but she’s already poised for major development in Shadowlands.

Much longer, spoilery version below.

This ended up being more of a ramble than an essay, but there’s a lot of disjointed thoughts pinging around in my head, so let’s dive in.

Overall, I enjoyed Shadows Rising. Was it the best book ever? No. Not even the best Warcraft book ever. But it was an enjoyable read. It’s always a treat to get into the heads of characters we mostly know in passing from in-game events. There are internal, emotional beats that cannot easily be explored in the game, and the books are a way to build the world and the characters in a more introspective, slow-paced manner. I like that. (That’s not to say there are no action scenes, because there definitely are.)

Talanji, Jaina, Zekhan, and Anduin were all written well and sympathetically. Maiev’s only in a couple scenes, but she felt off to me. Nathanos was very in-character, in all his snide, sour glory. Flynn and Mathias are great together.

The pacing was fine. The descriptions were good, and it all felt grounded in the game world (i.e. landmarks, ambiance, the ridiculous amount of stairs in Daz’alor...) Each of the Horde leaders got a moment or two in the spotlight. Despite a fair amount of chapters about Anduin, Alleria, Turalyon, and Jaina, it still felt like a Horde-centric book to me. Not that that’s a bad thing.

Prologue: Gayness detected on page 8! And it’s even something I kind of inadvertently predicted. In my reaction post for Before the Storm I wrote, “ In this book alone, it would have been so easy to have that blacksmith bringing a helmet as a gift to his long-lost Forsaken husband instead of friend.” That’s basically what we have here. I don’t know if they were married, and neither were blacksmiths, but the Westfall moonshiner describes one of the Forsaken slain in Arathi as “the best man I ever knew and loved.” Tada! See how easy it was? Add Jago x Wilmer to the growing list of LGBT rep in Azeroth. (Even if they’re super minor characters in the long run, it’s still great to see.)

There might be some kind of parallel to be drawn between Alleria failing Anduin (by not finding/killing Sylvanas) and Nathanos failing Sylvanas (by not killing Bwonsamdi) but my brain is too overloaded from binge-reading to articulate it right now. Both failed their king or queen, but both were also given nearly impossible tasks.

Alleria and Turalyon are definitely being set up as antagonists. We are clearly supposed to side with Jaina on this, and be uncomfortable (if not outright horrified) at their torture methods. It’s especially disturbing how they use their respective void and light powers to accomplish their goals. I mean, on one hand it’s great that both sides of the great cosmic divide can work together, and their marriage seems stronger than it was for awhile there, but yeesh...can you not torture people? I know, ends justify the means, slippery slope, greater evil, blah blah, but still...that’s not okay. It’s yet another sign that the Light is not necessarily good (or the void necessarily evil).

I welcome conflict within the Alliance, though. That’s been the Horde’s thing for long enough. Time to see how the blue side deals with its rifts.

In chapter 2 Nathanos is annoyed when a dreadtick flies by his head. What, was it too similar to a bird for his liking? Heh.

All that time in Nazmir, and we didn’t get to see a single crawg! Harumph.

It took three chapters and 39 pages to finally get something from Nathanos' perspective, and he was much more scarce going forward than I had hoped. The bits we did get from his perspective were great and in-character, but I wanted to get into his head more. Most of his scenes were from the POV of Sira or the troll villain instead, and while Apari was a good character I find Sira to be pretty one-dimensional.

I kind of got paternal vibes from Nathanos toward Sira, though. He was like, “I’ve been undead a lot longer than you; I know how to handle the bloodlust and such. Get it out of your system at appropriate times but learn to control yourself. There’s more to (un)life than slaughtering people.” She herself, though, was just “Rawr, I hate everything and want to kill anything that moves.” I mean, I get that she’s been through some traumatic stuff, but I didn’t find myself invested in her at all.

Page 42, as a bunch of trolls are about to be slaughtered: "Hungry birds circled, expectant of a big meal, and Nathanos so hated to disappoint." WHAT? Nathanos wanted to do something nice for BIRDS? I know, the phrasing fits with his dry, sarcastic sense of humor, but considering the running joke about him hating birds, it still made me go, “Huh?”

Chapter 5 (and later on, as it turns out): Zekhan having a soft spot for kids is too precious for this world.

Page 51: Thalyssra's eyes were "sparkling as she gazed across the room at Lor'themar." Awwwwwww. There was a surprising amount of ship fodder in this book overall, with Lor’themar x Thalyssra, Turalyon x Alleria, Fairshaw, and Zehkhan x Talanji all getting a moment or two (or more.)

Chapter 6: Anduin says, "Turalyon, take Alleria Windrunner and investigate these deaths." You know, Alleria...YOUR WIFE? I don't think you need to say her last name there, genius.

While I’m being snarky about the editing, there were at least two times where the word “grieves” was used instead of “greaves.” I spotted a couple other little things that a better editor (or one with more time, maybe it was rushed, I don’t know) would have caught.

Chapter 7: More matter-of-fact LGBT inclusion for minor characters, this time a lesbian troll couple who want to marry. Yes, thank you Blizzard, keep it up.

Chapter 8: If you’re going to make the “Zappy Boy” nickname for Zekhan canon, having Bwonsamdi be the one to wink at the camera and use it was a great decision. I can totally imagine him saying it.

We learn the name of Varok’s wife/Dranosh’s mother: Remda. Although I read elsewhere that the vision Zekhan saw of the Saurfang family in the afterlife was just Bwonsamdi’s B.S., it was still cool.

Chapter 13: Nathanos wearing cologne? Love it. And it’s not even to cover up the rotting smell, because apparently his new body doesn’t stink like some undead; it just doesn’t smell like a living person, either, and some find it unnerving. So he wears cologne. That’s such a delightful little detail, and surprisingly considerate of him.

Sira complaining about bugs: "We'll be eaten alive." Uh no, you'd have to BE ALIVE for that to happen. Tsk.

Nathanos being called "the pale rider" makes me think of old cowboy movies. Like, “You greenhorns better clear out; the Pale Rider is comin’ to town and there’s gonna be trouble. Go wake up the sheriff.”

Sira says that while on the voyage to Zandalar the dark rangers liked to tell the tale of how Nathanos was promoted to Ranger Lord by Sylvanas. I'm surprised he lets them gossip like that! His quests in vanilla made it seem he wanted to keep those parts of his past on the down-low, at least from the player.

Chapter 14: Thrall's second kid is Rehze. *blink* Reh-zee? Rez? Ruh-zay? I guess she’s not named after anyone. After he named his son Durak (sort of after Durotan) I assumed he’d continue the pattern with kid #2. Maybe she’s named after one of Aggra’s relatives. (Later I read on Wowpedia that the author actually said she dislikes the “fan service” trend of naming children after other characters so she just picked a random orcish name. I don’t think it’s fan service, because lots of real-life people do it, but okay. Fair enough.)

Speaking of orcish names, there’s an orc page helping out the council named Gunk. Like, what you clean out from under your fingernails after gardening. Gunk. LOL

Aww, that’s no fun...Maiev's wearing a cape trimmed in white fur, not daggers. What happened to her impeccable/deadly fashion sense?

Chapter 16: Zekhan starting to clap at Talanji's speech and then stopping and shrinking back when he realized no one else was applauding was so freaking adorable.

Chapter 17: Fairshaw, full steam ahead!!! Their chemistry is everything I hoped it would be. Learning a little about Flynn’s tragic past was both fascinating and heartbreaking. (We learned his mom’s name: Lyra Fairwind. R.I.P.)

Chapter 18: Proodmoore keep has a gallery with floor to ceiling oil paintings of the Proudmoore family, extended family, and beloved friends. It now includes Anduin. I can’t help thinking that, in a different timeline, Arthas’ portrait would have been there.

Will wonders never case? Ji Firepaw actually gets to do stuff!!! GASP!

"Thrall understood that to other humans Wrynn was said to be pleasing-looking, but to the orc, Anduin simply looked like a small, pink boy swallowed by clunky armor." So it’s canon that Anduin is good-looking in-universe. But LMAO at Thrall’s description.

Chapter 22: From Shaw’s POV, "These odds ranked pretty low... Maybe just above the time he had relied completely on a shoddy network of spies embedded in a cheese business." OMG leave Elling Trias alone! He did his best! LOL

Shaw wanting to hang out in a mountain meadow and whittle bird calls (perhaps even with a special someone) was so touchingly normal. That’s the kind of characterization that the books are so much better at than the game.

I actually like Bwonsamdi more after reading this. Not that I disliked him before, but I didn’t have a strong sense of him due to not playing Horde as much in BFA. He’s a well-done gray character: not good, not evil, insightful but a smartass, part of the great cycle, out for himself but also taking his duties seriously (saving troll souls from the Maw.)

I’m not entirely sure that we needed as much from Thrall’s POV as we got. I mean, sure, he’s a familiar character with ties to a lot of others, so it was easy to drop him into situations, and his ties to Jaina made cross-faction communication easier, but he didn’t seem as relevant to the lore of Zandalar and the Shadowlands as some other characters.

Maiev seemed OOC, especially in the Stockades scene. I know one of the themes of the book was “people change,” and I suppose I should be happy that she has a more moderate viewpoint nowadays, dialing back the Lust For Vengeance Meter from eleven to maybe a five or a six, but it didn’t feel like Maiev. Especially because her message of “maybe don’t go overboard with this vengeance thing” was aimed at Tyrande, of all people, someone who Maiev has had quite legitimate reasons to dislike for a very, very long time. I could see her maybe mellowing out a little in front of fellow Wardens, but Tyrande? Eh, it didn’t feel right to me.

No surprises from Tyrande in this. She’s still steely cold, vengeance-obsessed, consumed by anger. Not that I blame her, but it’s not healthy. I know we’ll be exploring her situation more in Shadowlands, so this was more of a reminder/reinforcement of where she is right now. It was kind of funny how Thrall, Baine and Calia tried to talk to her and she just gave them the stink eye and the silent treatment, though.

I’m fine with Anduin exploring his dark side a bit more, as long as they don’t go overboard with it. I like him as an earnest, good-hearted character. It’s only natural to test your limits, though, especially in times of crisis. Power corrupts, and he’s got plenty of it, both politically and magically, so I can understand Jaina and Mathias being a bit uneasy. Add to that the increasing themes about the Light not being as benevolent as we originally assumed, and there’s potential for interesting plot there. In the end I want Anduin to stay firmly on the side of good, empathy, compassion, etc., but a deviation into the shadows along the way isn’t a bad thing for the story.

I imagine every single person who read about Anduin sneaking off to the Lion’s Pride Inn in Goldshire smirked about that place’s reputation on certain RP realms. I was surprised he didn’t find scantily-clad elves and draenei dancing on the furniture. And then it turns out Jaina was there, too. Awkward!

Why, oh why couldn’t we have had a scene with Anduin and Wrathion hanging out (incognito, of course) in a tavern? That was their thing in MoP, and now with Anduin desperately wanting to get away from his duties for awhile and soak up some tavern ambiance it would have been perfect. Let Anduin show off the best taverns Stormwind has to offer. Even though Wrathion was as much a guest at the Tavern in the Mists as Anduin was, he acted like he owned the place and Anduin was his guest, so let them turn the tables and have Anduin play host. There could be jokes about how he better not punch Wrathion again or they’ll get kicked out for starting a bar fight. They could have still seen the young recruits, ran into Jaina, etc. But Anduin really needs a buddy to hang out with right now.

And you can’t tell me after Nya’lotha fell Wrathion just disappeared again and never at least visited Stormwind to tell grandiose tales about how he stabbed an Old God, it was so heroic, and he wasn’t scared at all, and those mean adventurers were so quick to believe he’d been corrupted, but he hadn’t, and did you know Azshara was there? And then N’Zoth almost won but KERPOW LAZERS and oh Anduin you should have seen it, etc. etc. etc.

I should be used to being disappointed about Wrathion’s absence by now, but there are SO MANY MISSED OPPORTUNITIES!

Sigh. Moving on.

Being exposed to spoilers meant I wasn’t fooled by it, but it was still a deft bit of writing to have the dark rangers drink poison when cornered by Horde soldiers, then mention Nathanos having a vial in his coat, which he drinks when defeated--making the unspoiled reader assume he’s killing himself--only for it to be a kind of liquid hearthstone attuned to Sylvanas. Had I not known that he survived the book I would have freaked out there.

So, like, was Bolvar just sitting there on the ground awkwardly eavesdropping while Sylvanas and Nathanos talked/argued? Or did he use that time to sneak away unnoticed? LOL

Which brings us to the epilogue that’s caused so much hand wringing and wailing from my fellow Blightrunner shippers. It wasn’t the openly sentimental interaction between them that I had hoped for, but I honestly didn’t read it as the doom of the ship. A bump, at worst.

[If you’re not interested in the relationship between Nathanos and Sylvanas, or if you’re one of those people who simply hate his character, you can skip the rest of this post.]

First of all, Sylvanas had just broken the Helm of Domination. That was a hugely significant thing to do, both for her personally and in the cosmic scheme of things. Her state of mind at that moment had to have been in a turmoil. So if she was a little distracted and tense, I think that’s quite understandable.

Second, I saw other fans being upset that she threatened/wanted to strike him. That’s not how I read it at all. “Sylvanas could strike him, scream and hollow out his soul, but it would not correct the failing.” She’s not saying she wants to do that, just that she could. The instinct to lash out in violence is ingrained in all the undead; death knights have to do it or they go mad. So for her mind to go there in a moment of high emotion seems natural to me. She doesn’t actually attack him or verbally/physically threaten him. People say things like “I could have killed my brother for eating the last slice of cake” or “I could’ve strangled my co-worker when she spoiled the ending of the movie” and it’s not literal.

Third, she doesn’t say “go away, I never want to see you again.” She says “Go where you will, Nathanos, but do not be idle” and “I expect you will return to me with means to prevent [Bwonsamdi’s] meddling.” So essentially she’s saying, “Fine, go home, regroup, come up with Plan B, and if it’s not possible to destroy Bwonsamdi at least concentrate on countering him.” Also note that she still considers the operation to be theirs, not just hers: “This was a blow, but one she felt sure they could overcome.” That tells me she expects to work with him in the future.

Fourth, and granted this is before she learns of his failure, but she’s clearly happy to have him there when he first arrives. “’My champion,’ Sylvanas purred. ‘Your timing could not be better. Tell me of your victory as we take these first steps together.’” She wanted to cross into the Shadowlands with him at her side. Hell, that’s bridal imagery...crossing the threshold together, and all that. The only reason she tells him to go is because his work isn’t done and she still needs him on Azeroth. But she explicitly says “I expect you will return to me.”

Fifth, in the line from her POV about how “the unjust ladder of their lives must be dismantled,” the “they” she’s referring to is all of the denizens of Azeroth, true, but I think there’s also a tinge of bitterness there as she looks back on her own life, and her life with Nathanos. Destiny has not been kind to either of them.

Sixth, she says “My path lies ahead” as she prepares to cross into the Shadowlands. It’s a reminder of the scale of the forces she is trying to manipulate. When faced with the potential fates of all the souls in the universe, her own regrets are insignificant. She can’t stay on Azeroth any longer, even if some part of her does want to just chill out on a beach somewhere with Nathanos and watch his blighthounds chase seagulls. She thinks “It would not be easy, but then, her mission required great sacrifice.” Like leaving him behind.

Even this part can be interpreted different ways: “She heard the note of hope in his voice, fragile as a fledgling dropped from the next.” Putting aside the humor of comparing bird-hating Nathanos to a fledgling, we don’t get a value judgment about the comparison. Sylvanas doesn’t think about him sympathetically, wanting to protect him in a vulnerable moment, but she also doesn’t think, “Geez, what a pathetic weakling.” It goes back to that bit in Warbringers about how she can’t kill hope. And she can’t. Here, again, no matter how bleak things are, no matter how displeased she is at his failure, he still has hope. And she needs that, whether she believes it or not.

When she “flicked her fingers, as if ridding herself of a speck of muck” that can be interpreted as her thinking of him in a derogatory way, but she was also talking about Bwonsamdi in the same breath so I can choose to believe that’s who she was being dismissive of.

I don’t know. I get that some of the language is discouraging. She describes him as having “blubbering lips” and she’s definitely not happy with him. But these two have been through a lot, and their bond has remained strong. I’m sure this isn’t their first fight, or the first time he’s disappointed her. This isn’t the end for them. Just another bump on a very long highway they’ve traveled together.

...

OMG this has turned into a monster of a post, rambling all over the place. I hope it’s coherent enough to follow. I’m just in lore overload at the moment (and enjoying every second.) I know I’m forgetting things I wanted to talk about, too, but I’m going to go ahead and post it as it is.

#shadows rising #shadows rising spoilers #bff princes #sylvanas x nathanos #rambling about wow

15 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Text

Help Wanted

Huge thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian!

Caduceus Clay is finally starting to find his feet in the city, ever since he moved away from the family graveyard. He's opened his own cafe, he's found his own friends, he's found the freedom he's been looking for.

However, with his cafe growing, he's realised he needs an assistant. Fortunately, his friends know someone who would be perfect- Fjord, back in town and looking for a job before he can go out on the ocean again.

And things get complicated from there.

---

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3!

---

Caduceus didn’t know how to have friends.

He knew how to have siblings. How to love and hate them with the same ferocity and at the same time, for how they reflected your own flaws back at you and made you laugh so hard you didn’t think your jaw would ever be the same again. He knew how to have parents. To have them hold your face and tell you they loved you so deeply and sincerely you thought your heart might burst and then have them make decisions you couldn’t understand. He knew how to have family.

But Caduceus did not know how to have friends.

That hadn’t worried him too much when he’d first moved out of the grove and into the city. The only thing he’d been concerned with then was getting to be himself. Learning how to be alone, finally of his own free will. Silence by choice.

And he’d managed that. Hours and hours of silence, in the tiny apartment he’d rented and then made even tinier by stuffing it full of plants. And, after he’d eventually figured out how banks worked, silence in the storefront he’d bought, with the sagging roof and the warped flooring and the rats. Hours and hours of silence, broken only by his sawing and hammering and holding long conversations with the rats, promising to drive them up to the woods and find them new nests.

And finally, silence after a long, long day in his cafe, called the Blooming Grove in a fit of questionable humour, the silence that fell after the bell rang out at the retreating back of the last customer, the silence that wasn’t really a silence because the coffee machine would always be humming, the ovens grumbling, the clink of mugs as he washed them one by one, the music he’d play and keep on as he closed up.

But then something happened that surprised Caduceus, as much as his own contentment had.

Friends found him. And they taught him how it was done.

“That’s the third yawn you’ve stifled behind a mug today, Caduceus.”

Caleb had a habit of stating his observations aloud, often not realising what he was observing was something another person was trying to hide. It was endearing in its way, except when you were that person.

“Another late night?” Molly stood next to Caleb, as always. Lately the two had been impossible to separate, ever since they’d officially become an item after making eyes at each other for months, all while insisting there was no way the other would ever be into someone like them. Caleb’s arm, threaded through Molly’s, the tielfing’s head resting lightly on top of the human’s, proved that they’d kind of been idiots about the whole thing.

“Not that late,” Caduceus shrugged and busied himself with the pair’s drink orders. He’d memorised them both, of course, but if he looked like he was concentrating maybe they’d stop asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. Not that it didn’t brighten his day when his friends came in- which happened every day- but he knew where this was leading.

Caduceus wandered down to where his counter turned into the domain of two immense hulking beasts of steel and copper, his drinks machines, cantankerous old things that would only work for him. He began pressing buttons and twisting dials like he was playing a very broken organ, trying to appear busy. Unfortunately, Molly followed him down, Caleb in tow, peering over the glass cloches full of the day’s baked goods.

“Was it last night? Or technically this morning?” he pressed, concern in his voice.

Cad pulled a lever down, sending up a gout of caffeine scented steam, and sighed. He didn’t like to lie. But he also didn’t like the discussion the truth would invite. So he said nothing.

He focused on the coffees instead. Dark as sin for Caleb, with a number of espresso shots that made him feel guilty for his part in his friend’s inevitable early grave, no sugar at all because his stomach couldn’t process it properly. Spoonfuls of cinnamon and chai spice in Molly’s along with generous spoonfuls of caramel just on the verge of burnt and clouds of whipped cream so the drink was bitter, spicy, sweet and rich all at once.

The tiefling clearly did not appreciate being ignored and wouldn’t let it stop him. He leaned forward, over the box of lemon and poppyseed cake bars that weren’t selling as well as Cad had hoped, like not getting the firbolg’s attention was the problem.

“Cad, you are going to run yourself into the ground if you keep on like this,” he said seriously, red eyes narrowed, “This place is getting bigger, which is great, but if you keep trying to run it single handedly, pretty soon you’ll be getting no sleep at all and you’ll die and we’ll have to bury you here.”

Cad frowned, setting their mugs on the counter above the ‘Collect Here’ sign, “This isn’t where I want to be buried…”

“Then hire an assistant!” Molly threw his hands in the air, making his bangles and bracelets clatter, “Like I’ve been telling you over and over and I know Beau and Jester and Yasha have been telling you too!”

“I don’t need an assistant,” Cad’s ears dropped and he folded his skinny arms defensively across his chest, “You have all told me and I’ve told you all the same thing.”

Molly rolled his eyes with a noise of frustration but Caleb piped up instead, voice quiet and soft, like every word was carefully chosen before he said it, “We are just worried about you, Caduceus.”

Cad’s shoulders fell, some of the tension leaving them, “I know.”

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t say their worry was unfounded. It was getting difficult, as his cafe became more and more popular, particularly with the students from the Academy nearby, particularly non humans who found their tastes weren’t catered to elsewhere in the city. There were new faces every day, new people to talk to and new stories to learn, though of course there would always be that knot of colourful students who had piled into the booth on that first day and showed Caduceus how to have friends.

Whereas before he’d have fiddled with his machines and idly tweaking recipes to fill the hours, there were now some days where he didn’t even sit down until the sign on the door had been turned over. Fixing drinks behind the counter, taking food orders and running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables, trying desperately not to knock anything over and keeping track of what went where with an elaborate system of scrawled notes that would be incomprehensible to anyone but him. Loading dirty dishes into the washer, bussing tables, watering plants and rotating them around so the ones that needed shade got shade and the ones that needed sun got sun, talking to the ones that were lonely and scolding the ones that had been greedy. Prep for the dishes, cutting vegetables when he inevitably didn’t make enough in the hours before opening, keeping track of when to take the fresh pastries out and when to turn the things under the grill and when he could spare a second to run and get a band aid to put on his burns or cuts.

It all needed to be done. And yes, sometimes it took so much time that he didn’t get back to his apartment before it was technically tomorrow.

“You guys are sweet to worry,” he conceded, palms flat on the counter, fingers stroking all the nicks and scratches in the old wood, sanded down smooth, it always made him feel better, “But it’s just...adjustment. Pretty soon I’ll get used to it or it’ll level off and things will be fine again. I’ll get a handle on it.”

He was met by two disbelieving gazes, Molly’s open and challenging, Caleb’s mixed with worry.

Cad felt a bitterness rise in his throat, the need to snap and pout and insist that he could do it, though stares like that weren’t helping, no matter how many people thought he should spend the rest of his life alone in a graveyard, keeping it nice and clean for whenever his family decided to come home and pat him on the head for being such a good boy.

But he stopped himself, leaning back and inhaling deeply, the way he’d learned to do. He thought he’d left thoughts like that behind…

Either way, Molly and Caleb didn’t deserve those words. He knew their concern came from a good place.

That was part of having friends, he’d learned. They would say things you didn't agree with because they were worried about you. The big difference between them and your family was you weren’t obliged to do as they said.

You could just appreciate the fact that they cared.

“Things will fall into place,” Cad said with confidence, clearing the tiredness from his voice and making himself stand up straight with bright eyes, “They will. I’ve gotten this far.”

Molly looked like he wanted to argue more but Caleb squeezed the crook of his arm and spoke first, “We know, Caduceus. And you know we’re here if you need help.”

Cad nodded slowly, mollified and already ashamed for his own thoughts, “Thank you. Enjoy your drinks.”

Caleb gave him a small smile behind his beard. Caduceus often got the sensation that he understood him most, out of all their ramshackle little group. Molly didn’t seem as pleased but he relented, as he always did when his boyfriend asked anything of him. The two of them retreated to the table they always took when they were on one of their post-Caleb’s-classes dates and Cad turned back to his work.

He already had more customers waiting.

It seemed simultaneously like no time at all and an eternity before the windows were letting in the burnt orange of the sunset and Cad could turn the sign over.

As he turned to the empty cafe, he was already making a list of jobs in his head. Take in the dishes still sat hastily piled on the tables, wipe them down, wash the crockery all through in the kitchen, sweep the floor, mop, get the ingredients ready for tomorrow…

Cad sighed and hung up his cooking apron behind the counter and pulled out his cleaning one instead, trying to click his neck and back and win himself a few more hours before they became unusable. Tomorrow, he told himself firmly as he went to change the music to something more suited to his tastes, he’d be able to tell his friends that he was home and in bed by eleven.

He found a song he liked with far too many panpipes to be suitable for his customers and tucked his long braid into the back of his shirt to keep it out of the way. The list in his mind was still growing so he’d need to make a start soon.

First, he let himself have a sit down on the few tables surrounded by sagging, comfortable sofas. Just for a few minutes, just to reset the deep, throbbing ache in his ankles. Then he’d be up, get everything done and be home in time to do some sewing. Things falling into place, just like he’d promised.

The next thing Caduceus was aware of was his eyes opening to the sound of cars blasting horns outside and harsh morning sun hitting him right in the face. He winced, curling himself up like a woodlouse that just had it’s log pulled out from above it, though he found himself tipping too far over and hitting his head with a thunk on the arm of the sofa. Groaning, he wrapped his arms over his head, ninety per cent of his thoughts bubbling up in frantic panic at just how much stuff was now undone for the start of the day and how he had no time to do it at all.

The remaining ten percent was in some state of mania induced calm, humming that at least he could confidently tell Molly he’d been asleep way before eleven. Even if he hadn’t been in bed.

Before the panic could swallow him completely, one of the strings of ivy he’d allowed to grow through a specially made net across the ceiling stretched out it’s longest frond, just above his head, and tickled his nose pointedly.

“Yeah…” Cad groaned to the plant, knowing very well who was sending him this particular message. Someone he really did need to listen to, “I get the idea.”

The day after next, all of his friends found themselves at their usual table, the biggest in the place, an oaken monstrosity backed by benches rather than chairs that Cad had rescued from a garage sale and revarnished. It was a little rare to see absolutely all of them together, with everything going on in their lives but every so often things would align just right. Beau and Caleb would have an afternoon off their classes, Molly and Yasha would be able to duck out of work early if there was a show that evening, Veth would leave her husband in charge of the lab and Jester would just float in on her usual cloud of bustle and low level chaos from doing whatever she’d been doing. They’d all sit and that corner of the cafe would be filled with laughter and loud conversation, a lot of it the well intended insults of bone deep friendship.

Often Cad would wish he could be over with them. He’d go and say hello, of course, but there would always be things that needed doing, things that would keep him from sitting down and really feeling part of them.

But not today. Today, as soon as they all gravitated together, Caduceus cleared the last of his customers still waiting, saw them off with whatever they needed and one of his broad smiles, then slipped out from behind the counter and sank into the chair they always left open for him, even if he was too busy to occupy it.

All of their eyes turned to him, surprised and happy and a little confused. Before any of them could open their mouths, he sighed and looked down at his hands.

“I need an assistant. Do you guys know anyone?”

There were a lot of relieved exhalations, Molly rolling his eyes and Caleb nudging him with an elbow, Jester’s face brightening as she gasped and slapped the table repeatedly in excitement.

“Oh! Oh! We do! We know someone who’d be perfect!”

Beau caught on, she had a knack for interpreting her girlfriend’s bursts of energy, “Ahhh...you know what, I think he would be ideal actually.”

“Who?” Caduceus was already starting to fidget, fingers drumming.

“A friend of ours,” Beau stirred her ice coffee, “He is...or was, I guess, a sailor. But his contract’s up and he’s looking to spend a little time on dry land. Needs a way to pay the rent until he can get a thingy on another ship.”

“Berth,” Caleb piped up from where he was eating a beetroot brownie while pulling it apart into crumbs, “It’s a berth on a ship.”

“Yeah,” Beau waved her fingers in his direction, “One of those.”

Cad nodded slowly. If he was a friend of his friends, surely it wouldn’t be so bad. That must be someone he could trust to water the plants and man the counter and look after the place he’d built from the ground up and represented his first chance at real freedom.

He took a deep breath, the drumming getting worse, “What’s his name? Maybe we can talk...I mean, maybe a trial period or...or something...”

Jester already had her phone out, fingers tapping energetically on the keys, grinning to herself and talking animatedly about how great this all was. Beau smiled fondly at her and turned to answer.

“Your new assistant is called Fjord.”

#teahaw #fjorclay #modern au #coffee shop au #slow burn #friends to lovers #well colleagues to lovers

33 notes · View notes

animal-guardian · 6 years

Photo

The host is a young 14 year old female called Mystic, who was raised in a gypsy family. Now some people believe gypsy’s are bad luck and were involved in witch craft. This makes them targets for harassment and such. Now this family actually was comprised of a lesbian couple that adopted a child from a family that was to poor to care for her anymore. They named the dark skinned child Mystic, she grew under their care not knowing about a Parasite that was growing inside her on her back. You see her birth parents had a secret about their child they didn’t share, not that it would have changed the gypsy’s minds but Mystic was born with a parasite having wormed it’s way into Mystic’s back when she was 7 months old in her mother’s womb. The mother had a parasite who injected it’s own egg into the mother’s womb which found it’s way on to the child where it will grow and develop with Mystic. This was done with the mother’s consent in order to have her baby protected when Mystic would get older. The gypsy family soon found themselves in a small town, they needed to stay and start lives for themselves, it was clear at a young age Mystic was well versed in Cryptozoology, and basic white witch magic. This made her terrifying to the other children...and the coffin shaped bump on her back wasn’t at all helping...But one child found her interesting and exciting..a very young child named Patricia. Now mind you that this Patricia was 6 years old and Mystic was 9 years old at this time but they hit it off well and Mystic even became Patricia’s babysitter. Mystic saw that Patricia was loved by her parents but they were always gone on business and the other kids found the younger child annoying from the way she wanted all the attention..most likely from not having her parents to give it to her. So Mystic was with Patricia nearly 24/7 and some times she’s have Patricia sleep over at her place to keep her safe and happy. These two became adoptive sisters with a tight bond to each other. And such they grew together but it was around when Patricia was 9 and Mystic being 11 that’s when it went haywire as a skullgirl attacked their home and were driven out of their town and home. Their families dying in the attack Mystic had her parasite some what developed but it was not strong enough yet and showed no signs of life yet. So Mystic took her adoptive sister and ran away with her from the burning town after a week or so the skullgirl was killed and that threat was gone. Sadly after 3 weeks the war started and their luck got even WORSE....both were kidnapped and enslaved by the medici. But after a year with Patricia now being 10 and Mystic being 12 They made a new friend called Marie surprisingly she was from their home town, they stayed tight together until sadly The Medici sold Mystic but she was damn well not being taken away from Patricia without a fight. Sadly she was overwhelmed and knocked unconscious...Patricia was devastated as she watched her sister being carried off and most likely never be seen again...this made the once innocent and optimistic Patricia turn colder and grow more attached to Marie. But Mystic is alive and trapped in the confines of a castle..along with her now fully developed Parasite she named Chambers...she eagerly searches for a way out to finally see Patricia again..she would hope to fully escape when she turns 14 this would be the same day Patricia is rescued by Big band and Valentine... ——— Well I always wanted to make a character know and interact with a cannon character so I did just that with Peacock and Mystic XD Peacock has little back history that’s known so she was absolutely perfect for this! Hope you guys like them! Also here’s a little more about them! ——— Mystic’s Parasite known as Chambers, acts very similar to Leviathan in terms of Being strictly loyal to Mystic, he is the more silent type, preferring to nod and or grunt to communicate. He can in fact speak full sentences! His voice is low toned to that of what some might think a grim reaper sounds like. He looks like a skeleton that has a coffin attached to his taking place of where his legs and his would be. This coffin is the base of their attacks. Summoning creatures of folklore and myths, such as, The Jersey Devil, Cat-ctus, Mothman, And even chupacabra. Some say she can even summon Cthulhu, well mostly his arm to pull people into the coffin, and then punching them out of it. Chambers and Mystic have already decided to be soulmates, so when older they would be married. They know each other more than anyone else could understand. When babies they spoke telepathically to each other learning about each other more and more this made the two quite enamored with each other and made them make their decision. ———- I’m really really excited cause I’m commissioned the great @wiirdo to do them in their skullgirls style! XD which is absolutely incredible to me! I’m really excited to see these two come to life! I will say these two make me more than happy story wise and design wise cause I put a lot of heart into them! So please don’t steal them or repost them! Mystic and Chambers owned by me!

#Mystic and Chambers #animal guardian #wiirdo #skullgirls oc #skullgirls

12 notes · View notes

xenosaurus · 6 years

Text

Vermilion City Pokemon Shelter (chapter 1)

Rating: T Tags: animal shelter setting, original characters, lesbian protagonist, worldbuilding

also available on ao3!

By this point in her career, Marianne Joy has learned to be wary of calm. It’s the same for the shelter as it was for the pokemon center her mother worked at when she was growing up-- if things seem relaxed, that means you’re either missing something or it’s about to get very loud.

After 45 minutes of paperwork with no noise except for her Nidoking’s gentle snoring, Marianne is ready for an interruption.

Right on schedule, the receptionist knocks on the door. Marianne knows it’s Lilo even before the door opens-- she’s the only one in the office who knocks like she’s setting the beat for a song.

“Yeah, Lilo, you can come in,” Marianne calls back. Her Nidoking, curled up in the enormous pokemon bed set up next to her desk, makes a snuffling sound and lifts his head in response to her voice. Marianne gives him a quick pat between the spines.

Lilo hovers in the doorway to Marianne’s office, an apologetic look on her face. She’s a short young woman, dark-skinned and pretty. She’s wearing orange lipstick today, the exact same shade as the trim on her uniform.

“Sooo, we have a situation.” Lilo draws out the word ‘so’ like she’s trying to delay having to actually finish the sentence.

Marianne puts down the paperwork she was reading with a sigh.

“Pokemon situation or people situation?”

“People situation,” Lilo says, grimacing. “Mrs. Bernard is here again.”

Marianne mirrors the sentiment. She’s heard stories about this one, and it must be serious if Lilo came for backup.

Marianne gets up from her desk, grabbing a clipboard from the rack on the way out of the room. Her Nidoking watches her sleepily, before deciding the situation isn’t worth sacrificing his nap. He’s back asleep almost immediately.

“What’s the clipboard for, Mar?” Lilo asks, while Marianne takes a random packet of papers from her desk.

“Makes me look more official. She’s obviously not scared of the damn Garchomp in the lobby, but maybe human authority will work.”

Marianne leaves her office. Lilo follows her, and out of the corner of her eye, Marianne can see the receptionist’s shadow jump unnaturally.

“You have your Gengar free-roaming today?” Marianne asks as they walk down the hall towards reception.

“Yeah! She’s doing so good, isn’t she? She even came out from under my desk!” Lilo turns to address her own shadow, which currently shows no sign of concealing a pokemon as far as Marianne can tell. “Did you hear that, Lucy? You’re such a brave girl!”

Sure enough, Lilo’s shadow shifts in response, swaying side to side. Marianne smiles. This is a good pick-me-up right before she has to deal with entitlement personified.

“Ma’am, you really should go through the Good Start program.”

Shit, that’s Tyler. Marianne turns to Lilo in alarm.

“You left Tyler alone with her?” she whispers.

“Peggy’s on lunch, somebody had to stay with her!” Lilo protests. Marianne just sighs and pushes open the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Bernard. How can I help you?” Marianne asks, customer service voice in full effect.

Mrs. Bernard is a middle-aged woman with the least practical fake nails Marianne has ever seen. Tyler, the shelter’s volunteer coordinator, is a tall black man with a honeycomb tattoo on his wrist and braids pulled back with a yellow elastic. His Ribombee, Daisy, is perched on his shoulder. Behind the front desk, Lilo’s Torracat and Garchomp are watching the humans with a shared sense of boredom.

“Nurse Joy! Finally, someone reasonable!” Mrs. Bernard exclaims, ignoring Marianne’s question entirely.

Lilo and Tyler exchange a look and Marianne resists the urge to throw the clipboard at their guest.

“Mrs. Bernard, as I’m sure you’ve already been told, we don’t have any pokemon that would be appropriate for your daughter--”

“I don’t see why I can’t go in and see for myself,” Mrs. Bernard interrupts, which greatly amplifies Marianne’s desire to throw something.

“I already explained the training class to her,” Tyler says, arms crossed over his chest. Daisy starts patting his cheek with her tiny hands, trying to soothe him. Tyler tilts his head into the gesture to acknowledge her efforts.

“She’s already taking lessons through the school! She knows how to handle pokemon,” Mrs. Bernard argues.

“Ma’am, the pokemon we have here generally aren’t appropriate for a kid just starting out, especially if she isn’t going to have adult supervision,” Marianne explains, desperately willing this woman to understand.

“I know multiple families whose children got their first pokemon through your organization!” Mrs. Bernard is only getting more agitated, and Marianne really wishes she’d brought her Nidoking along after all. Butch is good at looming until people stop yelling at his trainer.

“Oh, they probably got them from the Good Start event we hold in the fall!” Lilo jumps in to explain. “When we get very young pokemon or eggs, some of our fosters raise them special for the Good Start program so they’ll make perfect partners for new trainers.”

“And why can’t I have one of those pokemon?”

“Um. Because they all go into the program. So that kids from the smaller towns can get starter pokemon too. The Good Start program finds trainers for them much easier than we could, so we really don’t keep suitable pokemon around unless Good Start’s doing one of their local events. It’s mostly pokemon with issues or older pokemon that--”

“Then give me an older pokemon!”

Lilo’s good cheer falters a little, and her Torracat finally comes out from behind her desk. He nuzzles her knee, then sits at her feet, glowering up at Mrs. Bernard.

“The older pokemon are rescues. They have specific needs--”

“I know some of your pokemon come from retired trainers. Those pokemon would make <i>great</i> partners for a new trainer!”

Lilo’s Torracat does not appreciate his trainer being interrupted. He meows at Mrs. Bernard-- it isn’t terribly threatening, because he has a particularly small, cute meow, but Marianne is fully aware he’ll start spitting embers next. As much as Marianne would love to see that, it probably wouldn’t be good PR for the shelter to light a visitor on fire.

“Ma’am. I don’t mean to be rude, but we are not denying you a pokemon for your daughter out of spite. I’ve seen otherwise tame pokemon take bites out of beginner trainers seemingly out of nowhere, because the kids don’t know the pokemon’s limits. The pokemon in Good Start are trained from birth to be safe partners to young trainers who are bound to make mistakes. Pay Good Start’s registration fee, or, if you can’t afford it, talk to someone at the pokemon center,” Marianne says, in a tone that brooks no argument. Mrs. Bernard tries to interrupt her twice, but Marianne just talks over her.

That’s actually enough to make the woman falter, which Marianne takes as a victory. After a moment, Mrs. Bernard speaks again, less indignant this time. She isn’t addressing Marianne, having apparently decided Tyler is a safer conversational partner.

“So, um. What was that you said about classes?”

Marianne groans. Lilo’s mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“Come back with your daughter, then we’ll talk to her about classes,” Tyler says, staying remarkably calm. Lilo loses the fight against her smile and covers her mouth with a hand instead.

“I can’t believe you told her to get her daughter. I mean, you’re totally right, the ten-year-old is more likely to be reasonable, but it’s like telling a little kid to put mommy on the phone,” Marianne shakes her head and laughs.

Now that they’ve got Mrs. Bernard out of the building, she’s sitting across from Tyler in the break room. They’re sharing a styrofoam container of greasy takeout stir fry, their pokemon eating lunch nearby. Tyler’s Ribombee is sipping nectar from a special bottle, still sitting on his shoulder, while his Volcarona devours a large bowl of alfalfa on the floor. Marianne’s Nidoking is snacking on some high-protein kibble (figy berry flavor), occasionally trading morsels with her Audino, who prefers the pecha berry blend.

“I don’t know what her problem with the Good Start program is,” Tyler complains, gesturing with his chopsticks. He talks with his hands, even when there’s something in his hands. Marianne has seen him point to things with a Caterpie before. “I wish they had that program when I was a kid! My first Weedle stung me four times in my first week!”

“Probably would have helped if you hadn’t tried to hug him. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t, I’ve known you for half a decade.”

Tyler points the chopsticks at Marianne.

“Bug pokemon are adorable and they deserve hugs.”

His Ribombee squeaks in agreement and throws her arms around Tyler’s neck. He raises his free hand to pet her, grinning.

“See? Daisy knows what’s up. You too, right, Cinder?”

Tyler’s Volcarona makes a tiny chittering sound but doesn’t even pause in her quest to devour her bowl of sprouts.

“Admittedly, I also got poisoned a lot when I first started. Hugging may have been part of the issue,” Marianne says, tilting her head towards her Nidoking. “But I had basic medical training.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Tyler says. “We can’t all come from globe-spanning families of doctors.”

“That woman knew my name without an introduction. There are downsides.”

“Wait, you hadn’t met her? Lilo seemed to think you had.”

“Nah, Peggy dealt with her last time, and Lilo got her out of here herself the first time.”

“Holy shit, Marianne, you shaved your damn head and you’re still getting recognized?”

“It’s the cost of my beautiful face. Everyone I’m related to has the same one.”

“You should have taken your wife’s last name. Maybe they’re reading it off your nametag.”

“Do I need to get out my family photos? We all look identical.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of cloning--”

“Tyler, do not start with the cloning theory again.”

Tyler laughs and leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Come on, you don’t know--”

The door to the break room swings open. Tyler startles mid-sentence and turns to look at whoever has interrupted the conversation. It’s Peggy, the shelter’s adoption counselor, her Togetic fluttering over her shoulder and one of the Pichu she’s fostering tucked under her arm. She has long brown hair and oversized glasses, a fashion choice Marianne has never fully understood.

“I’m gone for 20 minutes and I miss Mrs. Bernard?” she asks without offering a greeting, sounding affronted. “Did anyone die?”

Tyler laughs and pulls out a chair for her.

“Come sit, we’ll tell you everything.”

#pokemon #pokemon shelter #vermilion city pokemon shelter #long post

20 notes · View notes

writingisbetterthanreality · 7 years

Text

Perfection of Destiny: Chapter Four

October 19th, 2015

“You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep rereading the last one.” -unknown

Rebekah sauntered into the coffee shop on a bright Wednesday morning and got in line for her daily donut and latte. She had awoken this morning feeling better than she had in awhile. Lately, she had become more and more numb to everything, spending far too much time moping over the past, but today was different. Today was going okay, so far. She had a few errands she had to run, but other than that, she was determined to enjoy this sunny day.

She picked up her coffee, after having to send it back for the barista to add the caramel she had specifically asked for. Rebekah pulled a five dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to the barista. She thanked them for their insolence, turned away dramatically, and strode in the direction of the tables. Rebekah always sat next to the windows with the great view. However, today there was someone in her seat. She furrowed her brows and prepared to defend her territory. As she got closer she noticed it was a young, red-headed girl. The girl had her legs crossed under the table and was twirling her finger around her coffee cup as she read a book.

Making eye contact, Rebekah smiled cheekily and walked towards her. The mystery girl had bright red hair and the most compelling face with glowing, green eyes to match. There were layer after layer of adorable freckles sprinkled over her face. Not to mention her marvelous body that could be envisioned from under her tight, black t-shirt that read “Nobody Knows I’m a Lesbian” in large font. Rebekah held in her laughter and continued to admire the girl’s attire. She was wearing dark skinny-jeans that Rebekah could almost guarantee accentuated her butt nicely. She had a thin, silver band with a small ruby placed in the middle around her wrist. To top it all off, she was wearing a leather jacket that gave her a kind of edge. Rebekah approached the other female and stood at the opposite side of the table.

“Hey, how’s it going?” she asked. The redheaded girl jumped slightly and looked up from her book. Blushing softly, she smiled at Rebekah.

“H-hi,” she said shyly, closing her book and shifting in her seat.

“Mind if I sit with you? You see, I am all alone this morning and I feel the need for some company.” Rebekah grinned at the adorable girl sitting in front of her. The girl’s face reddened, hinting that she wasn’t much for social interactions.

“That seat is empty,” she said, nodding to the chair across from her. She had a soft voice, probably an alto range. Rebekah sat down gracefully, crossing her cheetah print clad legs, and sipping her coffee delicately. Taking in the young girl’s appearance, she cocked her head.

“What’s your name?” Rebekah asked as the girl continued to play with her coffee cup rim.

“Amira,” she replied plainly. “And yours?”

“Rebekah, but some call me Winnie.” She grinned lazily and continued to sip her coffee.

“Why do people call you Winnie if your name is Rebekah?” Amira said looking disgusted towards her coffee. Rebekah chuckled.

“My last name is Bronwyn, so people have just taken to calling me that as a nickname, I suppose.” She paused and raised her perfectly arched eyebrows mischievously. “Do you have any nicknames I should know about?”

“Nope, just Amira. It sounds like a-mirror, but, uh, I promise that’s not what it means.” She looked to the window out of embarrassment. She couldn’t believe that just came out of her mouth. It wasn’t often that someone actually spoke to her and here she was exposing her obvious social ineptness. Rebekah closed her eyes, shook her head, and giggled at the girl’s innocent response.

“Well, it’s a lovely name. Amira. I quite like it. I don’t know that I’ve heard a name like that before,” Rebekah said, surprised. She continued to drink her coffee and ignore the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop around them.

Amira glanced at the girl in front of her. She had long black hair that flowed gracefully and smooth olive skin that glowed in the sunlight. Her eyes were bright blue and her lashes were long and thick. There wasn’t anything about her that Amira didn’t find attractive, but she knew she couldn’t trust just anyone. It had been years since she was with someone serious. She had no intentions of changing that. At least not while she is being hunted.

Amira couldn’t endanger others especially an innocent person like Rebekah. She didn’t know much about the people who were hunting her, but she knew enough that she didn’t want anyone else to have their life on the line. Her thoughts were shook when Rebekah asked her another question.

“I am just positive that I would remember someone like you, did you just move here?” she asked intriguingly placing her perfectly manicured hand under her own chin. Amira shifted her weight in the chair and uncrossed her legs.

“I’ve been checking out all of the little shops around town one at a time. I finally made it to this one. I just moved here not too long ago.” Amira looked from Rebekah to her full cup of coffee.

She didn’t feel the need to share that she had just moved here because she was hunted down and out of her old town. Hunters have been after her family for as long as she could remember. She can still recall the old “bedtime” stories that her mother would tell her as a child. They always talked about the dangerous men who killed innocent fox for sport and pleasure. It wasn’t until she was 13 that she realized she was the metaphorical fox, and she was being hunted.

Amira looked up and left her entrancing thoughts. Rebekah nodded her head in acknowledgement. She had spent a lot of time recuperating here, sometimes with Marcus. She had needed him in her life more and more these days. She felt lonely without him. Thankfully, he was more than willing to help her through these difficult years, even if she wasn’t able to be completely honest with him about everything. Rebekah wrinkled her nose in thought.

“Where did you move from?” Amira looked around uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure if she should tell the truth or not. So instead, she lied.

“I’m from Iowa,” she said. Rebekah could sense the hesitation in Amira’s voice. She had always been good at reading people. It was something one picked up on the older they got. She wasn’t telling her everything and was clearly uncomfortable talking about the topic. Rebekah understood and decided not to push.

“I’ve been there before with a friend of mine. We had a fabulous time. So how are you liking it here in New York? Do you like the big city?” she said. Relieved that Rebekah apparently bought her lie, Amira pretended like she knew what she was talking about.

“Yeah. It was a great place. As for New York; it’s nice as long as you overlook the rude strangers on the street, people who are constantly stealing your taxis, and all of the exhaust fumes,” Amira chuckled to herself.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right people or been to the right places yet,” Rebekah hummed. She couldn’t help but flirt with the girl. Her recent weakness was red headed women. They had such passion and fire both in life and in bed. She hadn’t thought about settling down since Daniel. She took that relationship as a sign of failure and the need to be alone. She knew that her attitude had changed over the years, but she didn’t care. She used to be shy and conservative, now she was blunt and flirted with whomever crossed her path. She didn’t look for relationships as much as she did distractions.

Amira’s pale face quickly turned scarlet when she, once again, took in how beautiful Rebekah was. She couldn’t be a hunter, right? The thought was mildly troubling. Amira couldn’t trust very easily considering her circumstances. She looked at Rebekah and decided she should wait to risk it.

“Yeah, you’re right. I probably haven’t. So what about you? Where are you from?” she said trying to keep the conversation going to learn more about the other.

“I was born in Norway, but I like to think I am from everywhere and nowhere all at once.” Rebekah went to sip her coffee, only to realize that both her coffee and donut were gone. She strutted over to the trash container closest to them and threw away her empty cup along with the dirty napkin.

“Do you not like coffee?” Rebekah asked as she sat back down on the white, wiry chair with grace. Amira looked down at her full cup, and then back at Rebekah.

“No, not really. They just threaten to kick me out if I don’t buy something.” Rebekah felt a sense of Mystic in this girl. She wasn’t completely sure, but something seemed special about her. What if Amira wasn’t a human? What if she was a warlock or something else completely?

“So how old are you? You look young enough to be in high school,” Rebekah said.

”Yeah. I kind of skipped today; didn’t feel like going. Oh, and uh, I turned 18 in July. And you?” Amira looked around.

“Oh, a summer baby, hm? Well, I’m twenty,” Rebekah said. “Why’d you skip? If you don’t mind my asking.” She gave a questioning look. Maybe Amira was a human. Or a really talented actress. It wasn’t as if Rebekah hadn’t been fooled before, but she was more aware of the deceit around her now. She’d not let herself be made a fool of again, but she couldn’t exactly come out and ask the girl if she was human or not.

“I just decided I wasn’t in the mood,” Amira replied simply. Her short answer implied there was much more that the girl wasn’t telling her.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I guess you’re just extremely interesting; you intrigue me,” Rebekah said. It was true, even though she started the encounter just looking for a hookup, this girl somehow fascinated her and Rebekah became interested in getting to know her.

Amira smiled softly and looked up at the other before her. This woman was making it hard not to flirt with her. At the same time, she was making it way too easy. Amira wasn’t that confident in her relationships or her judgement, but she felt that Rebekah had ulterior motives than just being friendly.

“It’s okay. ” She trailed off and paused. “Sorry that I don’t ask many questions myself. I’m not a very talkative person.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Rebekah smiled, a little confused, at the endearing girl sitting with her. It had been a long time since anyone had made Rebekah feel like this. That wasn’t to say this was destiny, meeting Amira, or them to suddenly be in love, or anything irrational like that. She didn’t believe in destiny. Not anymore. That naivety had been stripped from her core along with her heart. For a long time, she refused to even think of being romantic, she merely thought about physical attractions and how someone preformed in bed. She hadn’t wanted anything else. Rather she believed she truly didn’t deserve anything else, anything real. Maybe she believed it just didn’t exist. And now she sat here with this woman and felt the closest to the cliche butterflies she’d felt in a century and she was rightfully confused.

Amira noticed something was different about this woman. She had this need to get to know her, yet she felt so cautious. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a familiar burning sensation creeping up her arms. She felt dizzy as she looked down and closed her eyes. She tried to tame her abilities, but knew it was no use. Her powers were starting to flare up and she wasn’t experienced enough to control them.

“I’ll, uh, be right back. Too much coffee,” Amira rambled as she got up out of the chair, awkwardly kicking it in the process. Amira ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her face was flushed and she was starting to sweat. Flames were flickering from her fingertips. She took a deep breath and ran into an open stall. She slammed the door shut and locked it. Sitting on the toilet seat, she hoped that it would all just go away.

Amira took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. The burning sensations started to subside as she repeated to herself, “I am more than the flame that is within.” It was an old saying her mother used to help her calm down. Once her body came back to equilibrium she sighed and opened the stall door. Her forehead was covered in sweat and she felt nauseous. She walked to the white sink and began to wash her hands and face. She couldn’t go back out there looking like this. Splashing water on her face, she stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

She jumped and the color in her face faded instantly. There was a group of four men standing behind her. They were dressed in an all black; black cloaks, black masks, black gloves, and a black suit underneath. The men were nothing if not terrifying. Every feature of their body was covered. They set off an unfriendly vibe that frightened Amira. The room had dropped 10 degrees and she felt the urge to scream. Her body froze in place as black smoke clouded around her. She had never been this close to the hunters, let alone did she think they would actually find her.

“Luciole..” one of the men spoke in a language she didn’t recognize as English. His voice was deep and rough. It sent shivers down her spine. Before she could question anything, her world went black and the air was filled with her screams.

Rebekah was sitting at the table awkwardly tapping her nails. She wasn’t sure what was taking Amira so long, she debated leaving. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, it was replaced with an ear-shattering scream coming from the bathroom. Her heart stopped and she shot her eyes towards the bathroom door. She jumped out of her seat and stormed into the restroom. There was nothing but a sulfuric scent and the faint cloud of black fog. Rebekah felt her stomach drop and her body fill with rage. She wasn’t sure if she was angry or terrified, possibly both. She pushed passed the crowd of nosy people and ran back to the table. She grabbed her things and raced out the door; a loud ‘ding’ signaling her departure.

#pod #perfection of destiny #novel #creative writing #my novel #fiction #chapter #lgbtq+#queer #lesbian #bisexual #feedback appreciated #otherwriting #other writing #original work #writing

5 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Pas de Deux- Chapter 1 (Trixya)- Arcadia

A/N: Have an Early 1900’s cis girls ballerinas AU !! This is the first fic I’ve submitted here. I’ve had this idea in my head for a REALLY long time and I finally worked up the courage to write it and submit it. I know the title is very cliché, it just basically means ‘a duet between a man and woman’ but screw that it’s two women now. This fic will touch on topics like internalized homophobia that goes with the time and I’ll list any other warnings before each chapter starts. I apologize for any historical or literary inaccuracies, I don’t know a lot about ballet I just wanted an excuse to write historical lesbian smut(that won’t happen until later though). There will be a few side pairings. I’m not a super experienced writer so if anyone wants to give some helpful feedback that’d be great. Fingers crossed! Sorry if this is horrible!

Chapter 1

Trixie adjusted her hat carefully as she stepped off the train and onto the crowded walkway. She struggled to juggle her three suitcases in her grip and helplessly searched around for a porter. The station was incredibly busy. It was spring in Paris and everyone was returning home from winters abroad in America or business ventures in the East. But for Trixie this was her first time in the city and she couldn’t help but feel terribly out of place in the swarms of people. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her soft floral dress, pale pink overcoat and long wild curls that were threatening to escape the bun at the base of her neck. She looked every bit like the American country girl next to these posh and fashionable Parisians. Her French wasn’t excellent either, she knew some greetings but that was nearly it. She was standing out in the worst way.

A tight lump formed in her throat as she looked around almost desperately for the driver she had been promised would be awaiting her. In one of her turns she lightly whacked some poor man on the knee who angrily swore at her.

“Désolée Monsieur.” She apologized hastily but he had already stomped off. Her mother had warned her that the French had a reputation of being unfriendly.

She stood up on her toes, craning her neck and almost groaned, very unladylike, in relief at the sight of a handsome man in a suit with her name on his sign by the entrance to the station.

“Miss Beatrice Mattel?” He asked in an almost bored voice. She was surprised to hear he was an American like herself.

“That’s me.” She smiled, deciding not to correct him with her nickname, hoping to come off friendly and polite. He arched a brow and pulled her suitcases from her hands, expecting her to follow as he turned on his heel swiftly. As soon as they were outside she balked at the sight of automobiles whizzing past and she watched them in awe. In her hometown there had been only one, which belonged to the mayor. Here, there had to be at least 20 on this street alone.

“Miss Mattel?” Her companion brought her out of her thoughts in an annoyed tone. She hurried over to the coach he stood by. She was a little disappointed he didn’t drive an automobile but she was also thankful since she had never ridden in one before and didn’t know if she would like it.

She scolded herself for not asking his name sooner as he was now sat ahead with his back to her and she shouldn’t yell to converse with him while he navigated the busy streets. Realizing she would have no conversation to distract her from her nerves, she instead picked anxiously at a frayed thread on her gloves and watched as city transformed into country out the window. She had been ecstatic to receive an invitation into Ru’s Academy of Ballet. One out of a handful of young dancers that had been selected for the prestigious company. Trixie knew she was talented, but she never expected in her wildest dreams that she would train with the world’s best dancers. Her mother had cried, at twenty years old, she had signed a two year contract to tour as a professional dancer. It would be rigorous training, she was sure, but she knew it was worth it.

What she was most nervous about was the other girls. She hadn’t had many friends in her town and didn’t know how to act around what she assumed would be beautiful, talented, upper class girls. To make things worse, Trixie was a week late, her mother had to work extra days so she could pay for Trixie’s ticket across the Atlantic. The other girls had left and traveled together, they would all be closer and knew each other better.

After what felt like years but had only been perhaps 4 hours, a large stone edifice came into view. The house-turned-academy was incredible in its size and beauty. The long road leading to it was surrounded by lush trees and neatly trimmed hedges. Blooming vines crept up the walls of the manor and sunlight glimmered upon a lake by the east. It was like something out of a fairy tale. The inside was even more remarkable. Above marble floors hung a grand chandelier that twinkled delicately under the waning sunlight streaming in through the windows. A parted staircase led to two hallways that escaped her current sight. The ceiling was painted to resemble the transition of sunset to night sky. Trixie had never seen any design as exquisite as the one she now stood and would live in.

A maid with dark hair and full lips shuffled down quickly and took the bags from her driver.

“Thank you David.” Trixie hid her surprise at the informal address by the maid. She offered a smile to her driver, David, who nodded curtly and left.

“Hi! So you’re the latest one, Beatrice right? I’m Adore, you will be seeing me the most, I’m usually the one who cleans the rooms and serves you breakfast.” The odd maid cocked her head, signaling Trixie to follow her up the right staircase. She had been thrown by her easy demeanor but found her immediately charming.

“I’m pleased to meet you Adore, please call me Trixie though.”

“Trixie! I like that, it’s very modern.” Adore hummed. Trixie giggled at the thought, she never considered herself a modern woman, but perhaps she should start.

Adore led her down a long hallway adorned with faded paintings and pots of flowers. Towards the end of the hallway they stopped in front of a wooden door.

“All you dancers get your own rooms, which is pretty grand, I have to share with DeLa but that’s because we’re maids and you are obviously… not.” Adore seemed to forget where she’d started but Trixie thought her rambling was comforting.

“The other girls just finished dinner and are in the parlor now but I can have Ginger, that’s the cook, make you something if you’re hungry?”

“Thank you Adore, that would be great.” She had not eaten a thing since this morning.

Trixie went about unpacking. Her room wasn’t very large but generously furnished, soft pink wallpaper and teal cushioned seats in front of a fireplace. The manor was old but the décor was modern and thoroughly Parisian.

She had hung her coat up and finished the sandwich Adore had brought up when she heard a soft knock on her door. A thin face poked through. Her hair was pale, almost silvery and her skin was like pure porcelain.

“Well, hello there.” Trixie greeted.

“Sorry, I heard another girl arrived and wanted to greet you personally. I’m Max, or Maxine if it pleases you.” She sounded English. She then stepped in and offered a thin hand out to Trixie.

“Trixie, thanks.” She smiled politely, realizing it would be an evening full of introductions.

Max had brought her down to the parlor where she met about twenty other girls. They were all beautiful and proper and made Trixie feel like she hardly belonged.

“You may have been late but at least you aren’t the last to show up.” A statuesque redhead who everyone called “Fame” spoke up.

“Madame Visage won’t start our trainings or even meet with us until this last one shows up, if she does at all.” The voice belonged to Violet, a swan-like girl with long dark curls and a permanent scowl.

“Maybe she hit traffic.” A soft voice drawled from the back. Trixie giggled, seemingly the only one to notice her joking tone. She turned and noticed it was from Alaska. She was looking at a book from the shelf and pretended not to be interested in the conversation.

“I heard she’s a Russian.” Gia spoke up.

“So?” Pearl said from her seat next to Violet, the two seemed joined at the hip.

Trixie tuned out the rest of their gossiping. She was happy to hear of the arrival of another girl, maybe then she wouldn’t be the center of attention. Then again, the girls hadn’t seemed very interested in her in the first place.

Well, now you’ve just made yourself sad.

She got up from her seat by Max who sent her a small smile, and walked to the book shelf by Alaska. Alaska was beautiful, lean, and had the most incredible arched eyebrows above wide brown eyes. She seemed a bit reserved but not out of shyness, perhaps it was disinterest.

Trixie smiled at Alaska, who just blinked at her and returned to her book. Outside it began to rain.

At least Max likes me. She thought sadly. She grabbed a random romance novel and sat at an empty seat by the fireplace, away from the other girls. The rain, and Trixie’s heart, grew heavier.

An hour had passed when Trixie looked up from her book at the sound of the large front doors opening. The outside deluge grew louder and then it ceased and was replaced with the shuffling of wet heels on marble. The other girls in the parlor stopped talking. In walked a rain-soaked girl with an out of breath grin on her face.

“Hello.” A smooth voice with a slight foreign accent crooned, she wiggled her gloveless fingers in a wave and Trixie could see Violet and Pearl turn and snicker into each other’s shoulders at the disheveled stranger. Her smile drooped a bit and she wrung her hands together looking suddenly very unsure of herself. Trixie wanted to stand up and comfort her for some odd reason, usually she had trouble meeting new people, as it were. She was relieved to see Max stand up and greet her warmly. Trixie was once again endeared by her genuine disposition.

“You must be our last girl! We are all excited to meet you!” Violet scoffed in the back and Trixie couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. Max ignored her.

“What’s your name?” she asked excitedly.

“My name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, but please, call me Katya.” She smiled again showing off perfect bright teeth.

Katya. The name sounded new and melodic to Trixie’s ears.

Max pulled her near the stairs to where Trixie could no longer hear. The other girls had moved on back to their conversations. She took advantage of the distracted room and observed the Russian girl curiously. She had on a crimson coat that hugged her slim waist and a matching skirt, the bottom was covered in mud as were her boots. She wore no gloves and her blouse was black and sheer to Trixie’s shock. Her collarbone and the tops of her breasts visible under the material. She ignored the flush she felt on her cheeks and credited it to the fire she was sat so close to. Her stepfather would call Katya a harlot for wearing a blouse like that. She had blonde hair in a messy coil that sagged from the rain under her red hat. The girl’s face is what made her still. She was incredibly beautiful. Smooth ivory skin and the sharpest cheekbones she had ever seen. Her eyes were rimmed in more makeup than Trixie was sure was socially acceptable. Her lips were full and red and looked soft to the touch.

What?

She didn’t know why the thought of touching her lips entered her mind and looked down at her book quickly. Her gaze was drawn back soon enough. Another figure entered the room then, all the girls looked up when they noticed the newcomer was of the male variety. Trixie admired the handsome man in an equally wet suit laden with suitcases. He had white blond hair parted to the side and modern glasses. He huffed dramatically and offered a tight smile to the girls in the parlor. Trixie almost snorted when she noticed Alaska’s curious gaze eye him up.

Adore and another maid came in from upstairs and took Katya’s bags from the burdened companion. His suit wasn’t that of a chauffeurs and he looked at Katya with a warmth in his eyes. Was he her husband? Lover? She saw no rings on their fingers. Now free of her bags, he enveloped her in a tight hug and she pressed a quick kiss on his cheek as she gave her goodbyes. Some of the girls blanched at the public embrace while others sagged at the assumption that the attractive stranger had a girl. Alaska’s eyes followed him as he left the room.

Katya’s gaze swept over the room and landed on Trixie’s before she gave her a gentle smile. She turned then and followed the maids upstairs. Trixie’s heart fluttered and she wasn’t sure why. She looked back at her book but found she couldn’t concentrate as thunder cracked outside.

#katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #trixya #cisgirl au #tw internalized homophobia #arcadia #pas de deux #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #historical au #ballet au

85 notes · View notes