#so i try to entertain myself when my host hasn’t made it clear that they have the time.

[syn0vial]

the whole “treat others how you want to be treated” line sounds so easy, but i am finding things immensely complicated by the fact that, in truth, there are many people who do NOT want to be treated the way i want to be treated and will take offense if i try

[midgardianweasley]

The Royal Ball

The Royal Ball

Loki laufeyson x Fem!reader

Summary: There is an Asgard ball being hosted in the palace, Y/N is yet to find a date to accompany her. She’s disappointed when a certain God doesn’t ask her, however, what happens when he sees someone else getting a little too close for comfort throughout the night?

Warnings: lil bit angsty, self doubt, JEALOUS LOKI, fluffy ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Requests are open loves <3

Y/F/N - Your Friend’s Name

It was a beautiful autumn’s day, crisp brown leaves were falling off of the large trees in the courtyard and scattering the cobbled ground. Loki and I had been wandering around for some time now, discussing everything from the books we’ve been reading to the dreams that have come to us in our sleep.

“And then this huge ghost thing was chasing me around the halls! and if that wasn’t weird enough, you popped up-”

“Ah, seeing me in your dreams are we, darling?”  Loki chuckled, taking great pleasure at the fact that he had made an appearance in my subconscious, completely ignoring my distress at being chased by a supernatural being.

“Funny you should say that, right after seeing you, I woke up. The sight must’ve given me quite the scare.” I scoffed, a smile unable to stop itself from making its way onto my face, eyes meeting his, face etched with shock. With a hand to his chest, he spoke again in disbelief.

“You have truly offended me, love. I never knew you had this side to you.”

“What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” I winked, nudging his side slightly with my elbow.

“Really? Can you produce illusions?”

“No.”

“Look inside other people’s heads?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn yourself into a snake to scare your eight year old brother?”

“I still can’t believe you did that”

“My greatest achievement yet.” He smirked, the memory never failing to amuse him.

His stories always had me in awe of his capabilities, even if it was to give his brother a long-term fear, it was still an incredible talent. Whenever he tells me of his latest adventures or tricks, I always think of how well his title fits him. God of Mischief. Maybe that’s why I liked him much more than what a best friend should, not that I'd ever admit it. Not to him anyway.

We soon found ourselves standing next to one of the windows of the hallway, the crystal clear glass giving a beautiful view of the city of Asgard. From here, you could see the Queen’s gardens, full of flowers in all different colours and types, grass cut to perfection. You could see the families in the town, walking around the different buildings, children playing. It was lovely to watch, seeing everyone enjoy the seasonal weather and the light bounce off of the windows, it was ethereal.

“I never get tired of this.” I sighed, voice only slightly above a whisper

“Tired of what, love?”

“Just, this. This view, this kingdom, it’s incredible.” I looked up at Loki, trying to see if he was seeing the same beauty that I did. He was already looking at me when I met his eyes and upon seeing the way they sparkled, I assumed he did.

���Actually, speaking of the Kingdom, I have something to tell you. There’s-”

Abruptly stopping him from continuing his sentence, voices were heard from the other end of the hallway, though we couldn’t make out the words until they came closer. We gave each other a quick look of confusion before turning to see where the commotion was coming from, hearing the quick and heavy footsteps before being able to put names to the faces.

“Loki! Y/N!” A deep voice bellowed. Was that Thor making all of that noise?

Before I could process any more information, a blur of a pastel pink dress was in my face and hands were placed on my shoulders. I smiled down at the slightly out of breath figure using me as a support stand, it was Y/F/N.

“Wow, Y/F/N, you sound much different than when I spoke to you yesterday, did you drink something funny?” I chuckled, receiving a glare from my friend and a quiet laugh from the God beside me. Thor soon appeared next to Y/F/N, hands on his hips and head thrown back as he tried to compose himself.

“My God, Y/F/N, you run fast.” He pants.

“Care to tell us why you’re both running like madmen through the palace?” Loki speaks, one eyebrow raised in curiosity and what looked a little like concern.

“We..had to..tell you..there’s a ball..next week.” Y/F/N spoke, a bit more stable now, but still in between breaths.

I felt my eyes widen, a ball? I didn’t know Asgard held balls.

“Father is opening up the palace next week to neighbouring kingdoms, in hopes to be closer with them, open Asgard up to more trade opportunities, build relationships and whatnot.” Thor explained, emitting a loud sigh to come from Loki.

“I was just about to tell her, brother. Thank you for interrupting.” He rolled his eyes, half joking, half serious. I reached up and patted his shoulder gently, a small smile on my face.

“Maybe next time Lok” He nodded in response, I didn’t get a chance to comfort him much more before I was being pulled away by Y/F/N. With a small huff of surprise, I gave Loki a glance, silently apologising for our conversation being cut short, receiving a shake of his head in reply, affirming me to not worry about it.

“So.” she begins. “We need to find you a date and a dress. I’m thinking blue. I’m wearing purple so it’s probably best to avoid that one. Hmm. let’s see..oh! I know! we could- Y/N? You listening?” I snapped my head around, not missing the sly smile that was plastered all over my friend’s face.

“Y/F/N, don’t-”

“Loki! He has to be your date. You could wear green and match! If he’s even going to wear green, I'm sure I can get Thor to find out, I assume they’ll get ready together. And black accessories! I have so many ideas.” She clapped her hands, over-excited about the opportunity to plan this evening for us. Except for one minor detail.

“That sounds great, Y/F/N, it sounds wonderful, you’re just missing something.”

“Missing something? Oh, if you mean our hair then i’ve already-”

“No, not our hair. Loki hasn’t asked me, and I doubt he will.” I spoke, the second half coming out more as a whisper, my heart dropping a little at the thought. He’d never really expressed having those kinds of feelings for me and I'd always seen him be close with different girls around the palace, he’ll probably ask one of them.

“He might ask you, you never know what’s around the corner.”

“I guess so, we’ll have to wait and see.”

And that was the last we spoke of it before she went into full planner mode again, while I continued to ponder over all of the thoughts running through my head. I mean, he could ask me, right?

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

He didn’t.

After talking about it with Y/F/N, I had a glimmer of hope that maybe I was wrong, maybe I hadn’t noticed something that she had, that Loki would approach me and ask me to be his company for the evening.

I spent the next couple of days with him, hoping he would ask me, everytime a pause would appear in conversation, maybe he was finally going to do it. And everytime, a little bit of the hope I had, had fizzled out.

I’d even considered other reasons as to why he hadn’t asked, maybe the King didn’t want him and Thor to have dates so that they could mingle with members of the other kingdoms. Of course that theory had flown right out one of the Palace’s windows when Y/F/N told me that Thor was going to be her date. I was right then, he wasn’t wanting to go with me.

I guess I understood, I’m the best friend, we’d always been that. I think a part of me just thought that maybe he, like me, wanted something a little more. Clearly, I was mistaken.

Y/F/N and I had been getting ready for a while now, our hair was styled to perfection, our dresses were on and both of us were fully accessorized. We were looking at ourselves in the mirror, doing spins and curtseys and gushing over how good the other looked.

“You look amazing tonight, Y/N, really. Loki is missing out.”

“Thank you, and I'm sure his date is beautiful.” I spoke, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress, trying to avoid the subject and the twisting knot in my stomach at the thought of him with someone else all night. “You look incredible! You were right to pick purple, it’s definitely your colour.”

“Y/N’s right, you look gorgeous.” Thor declared, leaning against the doorway sporting a black suit and a dark purple tie, the perfect match with his date’s dress. I could feel my eyes light up when seeing how happy the simple, yet effective comment had made Y/F/N. Rushing over, she engulfed Thor in a hug before leaning up slightly and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Ah and can’t forget, Y/N, you look stunning tonight.” He gestured to me, arm almost scanning me up and down.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush.” I laughed. “You both head off, I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure? We don’t mind waiting?” Y/F/N questioned.

“Don’t be silly. You guys go on ahead, I'll meet you there.”

With a nod and a wave, they were off. They really did look like a perfect match tonight. I continued to look at myself in the mirror, fixing any stray hairs, flattening any kinks in my dress. Realistically, I was probably trying to prolong leaving for as long as I could. I was excited, but I was turning up on my own while everyone else had someone, it was a bit nerve-wracking. I still wanted to look my best though.

“Stop trying to convince yourself that you look good, you could literally blow an army of men away by looks alone.” A voice spoke, I spun to see who was speaking, the flash of green was enough to decipher who it was.

“You look lovely tonight, darling.” He grinned, the pet name had set off butterflies in my stomach.

“Thank you. As do you.”

“Well, I did put in an effort, nice to know it’s appreciated.” He joked, a breathy laugh left my lips, entertained by his words.

“Yes, well, I'm sure plenty of others will too.”

“The eyes will never leave me, I'm sure. Unless they’re on you, then I'd be surprised if I get even so much as a glimpse in my direction. Someone is a very lucky guy tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, confused by his statement.

“Well, they get to be beside you all evening, it’s a beautiful view.” He winked.

It could’ve been you, I thought. I knew he was joking, however that didn’t stop the fire in me from igniting.

“I could say the same for you, someone is a very lucky girl.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know if she ever thinks otherwise.” Joking, again.

So he had asked someone. Albeit disappointed, I'm happy he’s happy. Though I still wish I was the girl in question, I couldn't stop him if he was interested in someone else. That wasn’t fair.

Giving him a brief nod and a tight lipped smile, I picked up the front of my dress a little bit and made my way out of the room and downstairs to the ball. I could still enjoy myself, the night is young, I've got this.

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

“It was crazy! And let me tell you, my dad was so angry with me. He didn’t let me serve Turkey again after that year.” Charlie, a guy that I had met an hour or so ago, finished his story of the Christmas horror he had, allowing me to relax for the first time that evening. Up until now, it had felt like all I’d seen was either happy couples, or stares from across the room. Usually the second and usually Loki. The same Loki who had a girl’s arm linked with his and was looking at him like he held the world in his grasp. I broke the gaze, finding it difficult to look at the pair for any longer, as I turned back to Charlie so he could have my attention again, a lazy smile was present as he took a sip of his wine.

“I don’t blame him, really, it sounds like you started a riot!” I exclaimed, sending us both into a full on belly laugh, thinking back to the story. This continued for another five or so minutes, laughter turning into a low chuckle, as if we were about to be told off for how loud we were being. Just as my hand had reached his arm to help hold me up, saving me from laughing myself into the ground, Loki and his date had made their way over.

“Enjoying ourselves, I hope?” He beamed, taking one look at me before giving his full attention to Charlie.

“Yes, yes we are, thank you. How about the two of you?”

“Ye-”

“It’s been fine, yeah, good. So, what’s your name then?” Loki interrupted, his date having no choice but to leave him to respond instead.

“I’m Charlie Fernsby.” He held his hand out, greeting Loki. A gesture that was very awkwardly not reciprocated as he let his hand fall back to his side before Loki spoke up again.

“Charlie..Charlie, now, isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“Loki!” I scolded, giving him an evil side glance, what was he doing?

“No, no it’s okay. Yeah, it can be used for girls too, but it's common for boys to have the name Charlie.” Polite as ever, he responded. A mischievous look made its way onto the God’s face. Oh no.

“So, I take it your parents wanted a girl?”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I assume your parents wanted a girl, considering they’ve given you a girl’s name?” I rolled my eyes, this teasing was unnecessary.

“Charlie, let’s go and get a drink.” I tried to tug him away, only to be halted by another sentence leaving my best friend’s mouth.

“It was only a question, I'm sure he doesn’t mind answering, do you Carl?”

“Charlie.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said-” I tried to interject, but he was quick to stop me

“I know what I said, Y/N, but I'm speaking to him. Let him answer the question.”

Loki’s date was long gone by now, she’d left to speak to another group of people, presumably another few couples, leaving us three to have this discussion, thing, whatever you would think to call it.

“I’m just saying, maybe they would’ve preferred a daughter, seeing as they’ve very obviously made that clear.” He beamed, expecting me to join in and agree with him, I don’t find this funny. At all.

“Can you excuse us, Charlie? Loki, A word.” I pointed to the door, giving him a look implying for him not to test me.

“I’m in trouble. Wish me luck Carlos.”

“Charlie.”

“I know, that’s what I said.”

I pushed him all the way out the door, into the hallway and round the corner so as not to disturb everyone else’s evening. When I’d made sure there was no one else around, I looked up at the Asgardian, my arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, I wasn’t impressed anymore.

“So, are we out here for some hide or seek, or?”

“What the hell was that in there?!” I raised my voice slightly, his need to always make everything a joke wasn’t working this time. He had his night, his date, he didn’t need to come over and insult mine.

“What was what, darling? I was making conversation.”

“You were making fun of him.”

“No, I showed some concern about his parents choices, that’s all. Friendly advice if anything.” He looked a bit more frustrated with me now, as though he was stating the obvious and it was going over my head. I wasn’t having it this time.

“No, Loki. You weren’t and you know you weren’t. You had your date, she was fine, you were fine-”

“Well-”

“Let me finish. Everything was fine. Until you caught sight of me having a friendly conversation with another guy who wasn’t you. But guess what Lok, I’m allowed to do that! I’m an adult, I can speak with whoever I like!” My arms were all over the place now, my frustration was starting to show itself, it seems I had a bit pent up.

I saw his lips move, I heard something, but it was so quiet I couldn't make it out.

“Speak up, Loki. I can’t hear you.”

“I said, if you think he was just being friendly, you’re clearly out of your mind.”

Is he serious?

“Are you- Loki, you have no right to make a judgement on who and how and why I interact with other people. Not that it should matter to you anyway, you’ve spoken to other women before and I've never said a word or tried to stop you. Why does this matter so much?”

Silence.

“No, please, go on, tell me, enlighten me as to why this bothered you so much tonight, because trust me, I'm dying to know, truly.” I was shouting now, I just wanted answers for his behaviour, I didn’t think it would be this difficult.

His hands had made his way into his trouser pockets, eyes looking everywhere before settling on mine. He looked conflicted, I wanted to drop it when I saw his troubled gaze, but I couldn’t go back in there without an explanation.

“Ple-”

“I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, love? That I was so uncomfortable seeing some you get close with some guy that I had to embarrass him in front of you? Something I'm sure my father won’t be so impressed to hear, but there, you’ve got your confession.” His voice had gone much louder than mine, taking me by surprise, so much so that it took me a minute to process what he had said. He liked me?

He turned to leave, I assume because I hadn't said anything for a matter of minutes, but I gently grabbed his arm, tugging him back towards me. I looked up into his eyes again. I was so close that you could see the specs of different colours spotted in them, they were flawless. This view beats the Asgard view anyday.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Worried I guess. We’d never spoken of moving past friendship and I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I’m more than interested, Loki.” I grinned, my smile meeting my eyes, never leaving his.

“Not Chelsey?”

“For the love, it’s Ch-”

I couldn’t say his name, a certain pair of lips had stopped me from doing so. As they molded against mine, my hands went up to tangle themselves in his hair, his hands falling to my waist and pulling me closer, I didn’t even think that could be possible. We pulled away when we needed to catch a breath, foreheads falling against each other, smiles painted on both of our faces.

“I bet I'll be in your dreams again tonight.” He whispered.

“I bet I'll be in yours.”

“Always are, Darling. Always are.”

taglist: @horrorxweasley

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 14 June ‘21

Louis Tomlinson Cooks is here!! Yeah it’s 100% for sure as delightful to watch Louis make himself a sandwich as you might have hoped, but how was his cooking? Well I’ll let Louis rate himself-- “I’m not gonna lie not that appetizing is it, I mean look at it,” he says when it comes time to taste his creation, plus, “chopping peeling slicing not great to be fair- everything else I’m all right” (he’s… not wrong, even aside from the peeler issues has this man ever held a knife??) but- “it probably tastes nice though as I said it’s not about presentation for me… [munches cutely]... it’s actually pretty banging, that’s actually quite nice!” Success! Maybe it’s cause he knows the secret to faking good cooking- “as you can see I don’t have a lot of cooking ability so the more butter the better,” I mean the experts can tell you, that’s advanced stuff right there! #Louis-aChild! Substituting mustard and ketchup for coleslaw is a bit of a bold move, but in a belated attempt to convince the kiddos to eat some healthy veg even though he won’t he does bravely try the cucumber strips despite being “not really a man for cucumber” and makes a pained attempt to be positive- “bit of crunch.” Oh and speaking of crunch I’m relieved to have learned that the waffle is NOT a waffle, it’s a crispy waffle shaped bit of potato; a much more reasonable fish sandwich addition than the American version of a potato waffle! Full Time Meals polled to see what people think of Louis cooking; the two choices are “it was amazing” and “the best,” THEY GET IT. My kind of Louis poll! Helen Seamons rated him a “10/10 for effort and entertainment”, Masterchef acknowledged Louis as one of their own, and Marcus Rashford keeps it simple- “my guy” with a lil heart. YEAH, SAME.

Harry showed up in Italy, where he was papped in Venice being driven around (with PA Luis) on a boat (as you do, in Venice). He’s in a cool embroidered Bode shirt and shades and fancy hair, looking good. He’s seen carrying his suitcase, taking photos, and resting his head on his arms looking like a model. One might think, since we just saw the My Policeman cast and crew on set celebrating the wrap of the shoot, that they were done filming and Harry was off to do something different, but nope, he’s there to film! The book has key scenes in Venice that folks had been wondering about the filming of, and David Dawson is also being boated around Venice for the paps, so, it seems that was just for the wrap of the *UK* filming, which makes sense I guess since it would mostly be different crew I imagine, and perhaps some of the main cast are done as well.

Liam’s NFT sale is happening tomorrow! If you’re confused and want more info, I’M NOT GONNA HELP THAT MUCH… uh but I mean you can check out Liam’s youtube video explaining though I would guess that won’t help much (even Liam thinks so; “there’s probably websites that explain a lot better than me” he admits). There is a roundup now posted of what’s on offer for the buyers of the NFTs but I’m gonna be really honest with you, I’m more confused now than I was before. It’s clear that there are only SIX LONELY BUG NFTs right? They for sure said that I believe. But the packages for each different piece (token bundles) seem to me like they’re available to multiple buyers? Like maybe you don’t get the NFT but multiple top bidders on each get the extras? Like they can’t be selling multiple copies of the NFT... can they?! Isn’t the WHOLE POINT that only one person gets to own it? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW I AM SORRY. What I think I understand to be true: the six NFT buyers get to go to “a once-in-a-lifetime immersive dining experience at Resorts World Las Vegas” (this is the dinner with Liam and “a selection of crypto leaders from around the world” which takes place on display inside a giant glass box) and also “a bespoke commemorative presentation box containing the world’s leading holographic display... with audio... and a custom made Lonely Bug commemorative coin,” and “a unique QR code directing the owner to a special ‘Director’s Cut’ edit of the short digital film ‘Making Of Lonely Bug Collection’ which features unreleased footage from the day of the drop showing the creators' reactions when the winning bids came in” (I mean YEAH I would think it’s unreleased it literally hasn’t happened?) But then there are really a lot of other extras including tickets with Meet & Greet access to any Liam Payne headline show around the world, admission to pool and cinema parties in Vegas with Liam, signed art, non-Liam extras (I will literally bid to NOT have 20 minute phone calls with those crypto entrepreneurs PLEASE… but that’s just me), and access to an online party hosted by Liam; I really get the impression many of these, especially the last one, are just crypto tokens that are for sale that aren’t linked to the main Lonely Bug NFTs and many more than 6 people can buy them but a lot of the extras I’m not clear on which it is. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll understand better WE WILL SEE.

Liam also dropped by the discord last night to say some hellos (after a “long long day”) and that he “bought a piece of NFT art of myself tonight I’m going to give it as a prize Monday night so someone can own a piece of art that was owned by me” (an even less tangible bragging point than simply owning an NFT wow that’s an achievement) and the most important update- “I want a French Bulldog”! Oh and he said “that’s like one I did myself” in his fanart channel to a pic of a tiny crocheted illustration of Louis and Harry holding up a rainbow flag. Didya Liam?? (...Liam is crocheting??) Anyway I recognize who it’s supposed to be because it’s based on a familiar piece of fanart, but Liam definitely might NOT realize it’s meant to be someone specific, and tbh I’m more <eyeballs> at him saying that at the rainbow flag crocheted thing than at it being shippy.

Our Song acoustic version is out this Friday!! And Niall talked about NH3 some in an interview today; “I’m in the studio most days, it feels really good. I’m kinda in the latter stages of it and then I’ll go get a band together and go in and record the whole thing. I’ve just kind of been writing for the past 9 or 10 months and really enjoying it” and “It sounds like a complete album. God knows when it’s coming out because I’d like to be able to get around the world to see all the fans as well” and “It’s different. It sounds a lot more grown up. I’m 27 so it’s about time. I really wanted to kinda cement a sound. The singles I’ve released previously have all been kinda different sounds. I would like to have my ballad sound & like a cemented uptempo sound.” He and Anne Marie also talked about one of the other songs they wrote together saying, “It’s kind of like a, how do you describe it- guitar driven meets Tom Petty meets Katy Perry meets…” but say “We haven’t really decided if we are putting it out yet, the conversations are kinda happening... but it’s completely different (from Our Song).”

[harmonizingsunsets]

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Day 5 of Kate and Anthony week. Prompt: scared of my wife

Archive link here.

While being a viscountess has become easier over the years, it still gets overwhelming.

As the ball rages on the inside, Kate finds herself in the gardens. Her throat is sore from making introductions, her cheeks ache from forcing smiles on those who ask about the decor for the hundredth time, and her feet scream in pain from wearing shoes made for fashion instead of comfort.

Kate sits down on the bench, closing her eyes and taking a long breath. She knows she can’t be gone for too long. But, perhaps, a few moments of solitude could amend her spirit.

This was the first event they’ve hosted since the birth of Miles. While Kate profoundly loves her two sons, her energy hasn’t quite yet returned to normal. Kate wishes she was like Daphne, who seemed to snap back after birth quickly, radiating perfection.

Kate thinks she has never radiated perfection, but she would settle for being a dazzling or even just an adequate hostess.

But most dazzling hostesses don’t escape to the gardens, running from their own home.

“Wanted to be alone in the gardens, Miss?”

Kate doesn’t jump at the voice, as she recognizes it as well as her own.

She turns to the man approaching her. “Well, I was alone until about two seconds ago.”

Anthony nears the bench, bracing a hedge behind him and leaning towards her. “It’s scandalous to be here, under the moonlight and among such lovely roses with a man by your side.”

“I intended to be here by myself, my lord,” Kate huffs. She plays along with him, pretending they’re strangers instead of two people whose souls are intimately entwined. “You’re the one bringing scandal here, which seems fitting. You look like the sort who stirs up gossip wherever you go.”

Anthony sits next to her. “And you look like the sort who brings chaos wherever she goes.”

“What chaos am I stirring up by merely sitting on a bench?” Kate asks with amusement.

“Your daydreaming is chaotic. It was so loud that I could hear it from inside the house.”

His fingers brush against hers on the bench. Even after all these years, his touch still tugs at her heart.

“You’re right. I was daydreaming.”

Anthony’s eyes sparkle, his face ghosting close to hers. “May I ask who of?”

“Who says it was of a person?” Kate retorts, enjoying the way he appears disappointed. “People can daydream about all sorts of things.”

“They can, but I can tell you had a particular person in mind,” he insists, furling their fingers together. “Someone who knows how to handle a mallet, who is an excellent dancer, and who dearly loves his wife and children.”

Kate turns her head up to the night sky. “I bet he’s also rather righteous. He does anything he can for those he cares for and does it with joy.” While she’s not looking at him, she can see Anthony’s smile in the stars. “I also surmise that he knows how to make someone laugh and is the perfect shoulder to lean on when you find yourself in the dark.”

Anthony edges closer to her, their bodies brushing. “I also think this man knows when the one he loves is troubled. He seeks her out when she withdraws, wanting to brighten her spirits.”

Kate sighs, meeting Anthony’s affectionate but worried gaze. While she figured most people wouldn’t notice her absence, Anthony, of course, did. Even before they were married, they seemed to sense when one another was in a room. They both felt the pull—the need to be close.

Anthony also has an insight into Kate’s being. He can perceive things about her that no one, not even herself at times, notices. His ability to know her so well is maddening and alleviating all at once.

“This man we paint sounds too good to be true,” Kate says playfully, trying to shift the mood between them. “From my experience, men have more faults than virtues. So, why waste time daydreaming about a man who couldn’t possibly exist?”

“Perhaps the man is closer than you think,” Anthony whispers, his lips ghosting close to hers.

“Or perhaps, you’re the one caught up in daydreams,” Kate murmurs.

She almost kisses him but inches away at the last second. He makes a disgruntled sound, causing her to laugh.

“I do daydream quite a bit these days,” Anthony begins to say, causing her to look at him quizzically. “Getting older, I’ve learned to limit my acquaintances to those who are not fools. That means my circle is rather sparse, so I must spend the time entertaining myself with my thoughts.”

Kate smirks. “And who do these thoughts pertain to?”

“A woman, one with a wicked tongue, her words lethal but her mouth pleasingly soft,” he answers, his thumb gently tracing the line of her lips. “Her beauty is incomparable. I believe she has a rope around the sun, making everything around her radiate with light.”

She begins to roll her eyes in disagreement, but Anthony distracts her. A hand curls around her waist. He pulls them flush against one another in one fluid motion, causing her to shiver with desire.

“She illuminates the dark parts of one’s soul they thought would always remain undisturbed,” Anthony continues, kissing her jaw. “She’s also a dedicated mother, friend, and wife. She keeps her husband on her toes. But, she also manages to be the calm of every storm he encounters.”

Kate feels tears welling in her eyes at his words. But before any can fall, Anthony’s there to catch them with his fingers, brushing them away.

“She’s a woman of many multitudes,” Anthony states, kissing her cheek so tenderly that it makes her dizzy. “She gracefully wields every facet of her being.”

“She sounds like a fearsome creature,” Kate notes, clearing her throat to try to regain her senses. “What would you do if you stumbled upon such a menace?”

“I’ll have you know that I have stumbled upon such a creature.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, and I did the only thing you can do when you meet a woman who shakes you to your very core.”

“Which is?”

Anthony grins. “Marry her.”

Kate closes the distance between them in an instant, crushing their lips together. The tremendous weight she felt before lessens as they kiss. Kate finds Anthony’s embrace to be as much of a home as the one in the distance filled with guests.

When they part, Kate quirks her head. “Are you still scared of this woman?”

“I’d be a fool if I weren’t,” Anthony chuckles, his thumb painting shapes on her cheek. “But it also makes for a much more exciting and fulfilling life.”

As Anthony stands, Kate takes his hand he offers to her. When they’re halfway to the house, Kate pauses.

“Anthony?”

“Yes?”

She turns to him and smiles in earnest for the first time that night. “You’re better than any daydream.”

Anthony’s arm goes around her shoulders. He presses a kiss to her temple and whispers, “So are you, my dear wife.”

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 4: Power and its price

Lyssa’s presence changed our day-to-day slightly, about one hour before meals the witch would ask one of us to do chores such as looking for food(I was more adept at gathering, roots and fruit, while Lyssa had an easier time hunting), and she would use the time to teach the other one.

What made me curious was that from what I’d seen, we were not being taught the same things, while I had by this point been Morgana’s apprentice for a few months and she’d taught me next to nothing about combat, though she’d given me a knife, mostly for cutting ingredients, I had yet to touch a sword. Meanwhile Lyssa was already about as good of a swordsman as any from my home town, though she’d prefered to use two shortswords instead of the witch’s one.

When asked about this during one of my own lessons, My master, her unequivocal tone giving an impression closer to a consultation with an ancient goddess than a questioning of a human teacher, told me “When you asked me to take you on, did you ask for my power? Was your wish to match me as a fighter, or as a scholar? What you begged me for was wisdom, so that’s what I am attempting to give you, knowledge of the properties of all sorts of natural and supernatural, one day you shall be able to see as deeply or more than I am into the forces most struggle to even comprehend. However, I am myself a multi-faceted creature, and what Lyssa needs from me isn’t the knowledge you crave, that won’t help her protect herself from greed, hate and weapons from people whose reason for attacking her can’t be circumvented without fighting back. Right now, she needs to become a warrior, she wants to become a guardian, so her mastery of the blade is more important than that over the land. Of course I want to have you know how to defend yourself and her know how to use subtler methods than swordfighting, but it is better to prioritize.”

While I took in her explanation, her expression softened as she sat down close to the fire and ushered me to do the same. She took a deep breath, then spoke once more “It is good that you asked me that, it reminded me of something I feel I should tell you, and I’ll explain later why I do not plan on doing the same for Lyssa yet,” she stared into the flames, “It’s about how I got these hands, and the power they hold.”

“I grew up in the village of Krymmen, a place that no longer exists, outside of the reach of the duke that owns this tenure, I do not know how  much you’ve heard about him, maybe less than I, since I assume his rule is all you’ve known, but the common way of doing things here and now hasn’t always existed. Where I was born there was no use for silver and gold except for fighting werewolves and making accessories, there was enough food and housing for all of us and all who contributed to the community had access to it. My function, much as it is now, was to protect people from supernatural threats and their effects on body and mind.”

“One day, emissaries from “duke Louis of Drakenguard”  appeared, we hosted our visitors well, interested in what knowledge they could have to share with us. But they were measuring us up, learning about our defenses and armed forces, making sure they could easily destroy us. They came back, with numbers and weapons, an emergency exodus was declared. Me and my comrades stayed behind to hold them back, we were fierce fighters, but there were too many of them, we drove them back, just barely, but I was the only survivor, and it would not be long before they caught up with the civilians after the next wave was done with me.

“So I got desperate,” she clenched her fist, “There was a legend in Krymmen, about a cave from which none who ventured returned, the stories told of a slumbering dragon, at least as large as an elephant and as smart as a person, I headed to the cave, planning to beg the beast to protect the people who had coexisted with it for all of our centuries long history.

“Once I arrived, I was awed by the creature’s bright red scales, gigantic wings and terrifying maw. However its eyes surprised me most of all, they were orange and slitted like those of a crocodile, but they regarded me  with such superiority, curious interest at best, like how a man may look at a cat. It gave me time to say my piece, but seemed to disregard it entirely, instead lazily turning to my sword and offering it’s own proposal. It’s deep grumble echoing through the cave’s chambers.

“I have no intention of concerning myself with the squabbles between you pitiful creatures. Still, I can feel some fire within you, if you wish for my assistance, prove to me you are worthy of my time,” it stood from the pile of bone and discarded armor where it sat, “If you are capable of landing a single blow upon my flesh, I shall grant you a morsel of my power.”

“For many moments it was all I could do to stand frozen still, its glare made it clear that the moment I moved forward, that could be the end of my life, still it was my only chance to protect the Krymmen people, and if my comrades could give their life for that before, so could I now. I started to dash forward, but the dragon’s claw was even faster than I could expect, I did my best to deflect it with my blade, but the force from the clash still sent me rolling over the ground. The dragon simply raised its head and looked down on me as I scrambled back onto my feet, as if waiting for me to continue the challenge it had issued. I felt as if it had held back on the last strike, trying to bring the most out of me, and to be honest, it made me furious, I was determined to prove the power of humanity.

“I sprinted forward, goading it into striking before quickly stepping back, then dashing ahead once more, It’s next attack I evaded by rolling behind a rock, using it for cover by crouching. The beast lowered its head, and I beheld it open it’s enormous jaws and a bright orange flame gather inside it, too wide to dodge to the side and too powerful for my stone cover to protect me. In a final desperate gambit I climbed onto the rock and, as it approached to launch its attack. I lept towards it, plunging my blade onto its snout with a fierce battlecry.

  “The sword pierced only a few centimeters through  my foe’s scales, but it ceased its fire breathing, and for a few instants, we were both so still we could only hear the dimm whistle of the wind through the cave. I saw the dragon stare towards me with something entirely foreign in its eyes, recognition, perhaps even respect. It lowered me gently to the floor, backing away as I pulled my blade from its snout.

“Very well,”said the dragon, “you’ve proved yourself tenacious and brave beyond any human I’ve seen before. I shall offer you a magnanimous offer, accept the pact, and you will be given power over the most powerful element in creation. The flames that herald both oblivion and rebirth, there is but one condition.

“Though after such an arduous trial almost nothing could deter me from accepting, I still asked “What is the condition?”

“The dragon explained, “You will yourself become forever bound to the changing winds and the flicker of the flames. If you ever fall idle, without a mission or destination, the very powers you will be given shall turn agains you, destroying your body”

“I nodded, accepting these terms, “Very well,” spoke the dragon, “extend your arms, and the pact will be sealed,” I did as I was told, and did not back down, even when the beast opened its maw wide, waiting for a moment, as if precisely measuring  its position. Before snapping its jaws closed in but a split second. I felt immense pain, like my arms had been cut in half, before a powerful burning sensation accompanied by the same orange light Inside the dragon’s mouth I’d seen before. I clenched my teeth so as not to scream, and in a few seconds, the dragon released my arms, satisfied, revealing that, from the forearm down, my arms were now as black and hard as coal, and I could feel heat like never before emanating from them.

“You’ve risen closer to a dragon than most could ever hope, the last thing I have to give you is my name. Names have power, child, so when you wish to use your new power, remember the name Gorchfygwr and all flames shall obey you.” The dragon explained.

The witch clapped her hands and turned to me. “And that’s how I got these hands, I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I needed to be sure to not give information about the source of my power to someone who would get themselves killed trying to obtain them, or worse, who would be able to gain this sort of power and use it for evil. In time I learned more about pacts like these, they are the main way for humans to obtain power beyond our physical limitations, but, and you may consider this your fourth lesson, power always has a price, and with time I learned the dragon had truly been relatively generous with mine, likely because he had gotten his entertainment out of testing me first. Some creatures, like demons and fae may cause their lords to lose their minds or commit atrocities they could never imagine.”

I nodded in agreement. “I understand. There are some questions I wish to ask, if you’ll pardon my curiosity, What did you do after sealing your pact? Did you face the duke’s armies once again? And why did you not want Lyssa to know this story?” for all that her fierceness had unnerved me initialy, my “colleague” did certainly seem to have good motives, more surprisingly, she was gentler than I’d imagined, never once commenting on my obvious lack of strenght when compared to her and offering to guard me from possible dangerous animals when searching for food.

Morgana sighed and turned back towards the fire. “I killed them, I went back into my ruined village and I slaughtered wave after wave of those soldiers until the futility of expecting them to stop coming solidified in my mind. By now there was no way they’d catch up to what remained of my people, there was no longer any reason for fighting. I felt so purposeless I just… wandered. Eventually I learned that I could use the skills from my old profession to earn a living and help people still, and memorized the optimal routes I could use to travel from town to town.”

She continued, her head hung low, betraying a fatigue I hadn’t before seen. “I’ve been doing this for years, familiar, long enough to obtain a large arsenal of magic not as powerful as what I received from the pact, that’s how I could make you my familiar. In some way I feel I’ve been delaying an inevitable direct conflict with the duke, I mean, look at Lyssa! aren’t I one of the only people with a chance to stop this for good? As for why I’ve avoided informing Lyssa of the source of my flames, I have no doubt her reasons for fighting are good, but with her current fervor, I fear she may seek out a patron before she’s ready and put herself and others in danger, although I have a feeling she may inevitably attract the interest of one by living the eventful life she is currently seeking. It is a difficult balance I am attempting to strike, too soon and her haste may be her doom, too late and she won’t be aware of the consequences when she receives an offer.”

I was a bit hesitant to question my master’s judgement, but still I couldn’t help but ask “don’t you feel you should put a little more trust in her prudence?”

She turned to me and smiled. “That may be so, still It’s best to be cautious. Thank you for telling me this. It’s part of a familiar’s function to council the witch in times of decision. Now scram, you, I see Lyssa coming back and we’re gonna need some fresh water from that creek to cook the hares she brought,” she waved me away gently.

As I walked away, Lyssa greeted me, her muscles had been steadily growing more defined as she’d been training for combat, I also noticed she’d been binding her breasts recently and respected her commitment to agility. “Hey… cat, can I call you cat?” she asked, a bit embarassed, to which I smiled and nodded in agreement, “alright, cat, did Morgana say anything about me? I haven’t exactly been apprentice to a witch before, and she did tell me a familiar is something different, but you’re my best point of  comparison and I’d like to know if I’ve been doing well.”She seemed excited to compare our experiences, and I felt a pang of guilt about witholding some information from her.

“Don’t worry, she’s very impressed with your growth, thinks you’ll soon be a match for her at this rate, though your parry could use some work.” I answered, and it was true, despite me omitting the witch’s concerns about her impetuosity. “Now get going, master’s waiting for you and she doesn’t like to wait. .” I told her, continuing my towards the creek.

“You too.” She said, and I could tell my answer had made her happy.

[mystery-deer]

The Party

Mycroft stood still at his mother fussed with his clothes and hair, making several checks and re-checks in a frenzied way that gave them both anxiety.

“This fit last month...did you put on weight?” She asked, then kissed the sting of her insult away. “My little bear cub.” Mycroft resisted the urge to wipe his cheek and instead stared passively forward. She smiled.

“Come now, and try not to stand in the corner like a wallflower.” Being with his mother was uncomfortable. She lumped them in together so close one moment that her rejections the next moment always felt viscerally painful. “You’re a handsome young man, I’m sure you’ll find that if you open a bit your peers will see that.” He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Yes, Mother.” And then, so not to be accused of being dismissive, “I’ll try.” The party was a benefit, something his father was throwing to show off his house and family. While the mansion was normally so devoid of life that Mycroft had once gone a full week without seeing either his parents or brother (the latter of which was more concerning), it had been (through the effort of many maids) reformed into a warm and cheerful home. The chandeliers which normally gave off a pale white light now shone a rich yellow and the mirrors which were often covered in dust now sparkled. In fact, everything seemed to sparkle. It hurt his eyes and he was glad that Sherlock was asleep or at least content to pretend to be asleep in his room. Often at parties his anxiety stemmed not only from the pressure to interact well with others but also the constant worry that his brother would act out of turn. Today he had only one anxiety to plague him, wonderful. “Speak of the devil!” His father raised his arms jovially and his mother took her place nestled beside him. “I do hope he hasn’t been calling me a devil all evening?” His mother asked, widening her eyes and clutching her pearls. “If anything he’s the one most worthy of the title, devilishly handsome~” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and Mycroft watched her in awe, she always knew how to perform, to entertain. No wonder she was so disappointed in her children who drew attention clumsily or not at all. “And who’s this?” “My eldest, Mycroft.” At his father’s mention Mycroft straightened up and his mother placed a hand on his shoulder, now they were all connected, a perfect chain. “He’s smart as his mother, they both are. Mycroft, tell the Barton’s about your award.” Mycroft launched into a short speech about his award, which he’d gotten for being top of his class for four years running.  It had also doubled as a target on his back and he’d barely managed to get it home while avoiding being beaten to a pulp. He didn’t mention this however, he assumed it would be in poor taste. When he finished he dismissed himself with a soft “If you’ll excuse me?” and left when granted permission, his purpose fulfilled. There was truly nothing much to do at these events if he wasn’t being called over to brag. His father’s colleagues either didn’t have children or didn’t bring them to these events, which he was sure his parents wished they had the luxury to do. He wished he could be banished to his room like Sherlock, maybe he should act wild...be an absolute monster. He took a profiterole and popped it in his mouth whole, feeling sick from the sugar. It quelled his anger and he took another one, checking to see if he was being watched. Both of his parents were enthralled by whatever conversation was taking place and secure in his assertion that he wouldn’t be called again for some time, he left to solitude of the back garden. When outside the noise of the party had quieted to a muffled, quiet affair. The wind was cool and he could hear birds and frogs calling out to each other. He was attempting to identify them by species (which even he acknowledged was a bit of a low for him socially) when he was interrupted. “Hey, are you uh..Mycroft?” He turned. The rude interruption was a boy around his age with hair that was rebelling hard against being gelled down. Mycroft observed his second-hand button up, his too-large blazer and his shoes that clunked on the wood of the deck. He wondered how he’d gotten in. “Yes.” He said, making it clear that he was looking upon him in disapproval. “You are?” “Greg.” He said, making it clear that he was wholly willing to soldier on further into this interaction. “My parents told me to say hi to you.” “And you actually did it? I admire your dedication.” Greg smiled and Mycroft took care not to. “Sorry, am I bothering you?” He asked and Mycroft sighed. “No, I apologize for my rudeness. It’s not you who I’m angry with.” “Oh.” Greg hoisted himself up onto the railing and kicked his feet, the motion familiar. Mycroft noticed several bruises and bandaids. “Do you play football?” He asked, apparently hitting the nail on the head as the other’s face lit up. “Yeah! I’m great at tackling. My dad said if I keep playing I could get a scholarship to any school I want.” “Who’s your father?” “Um, he’s not here right now. He’s inside. He was talking to your dad and he wanted to make a good impression since he’s new so he told me to scram.” Mentally Mycroft placed him as Lestrade, a new hire in his father’s company that he’d only heard about once or twice. His father mentioned him twice as ‘new blood’ which was worrying. “You know, I can totally tell you’re a Holmes.” Mycroft leaned against the banister, continuing to stare out into the night. “Yes, it’s generally easy to tell who the host of a party is as they’re often most comfortable in the house but also the most anxious.” He said, knowing that this was not the response he was being led to. Greg took this in stride by plowing on with what he wanted to say. “You all look at me and cringe. Your mom and dad did it too.” “And my cat would do it as well if she were here. Your clothing...stands out.” “It’s my father’s jacket and these are shoes to grow into. Sorry I’m not used to being a snob~” “I..I would take care that father doesn’t hear you.” “Father?” Greg asked in disbelief. “What year is this?” Mycroft smiled slightly but didn’t look at the boy until he spoke again a few minutes later. “What were you mad about?” Mycroft hummed quizzically. “You said someone made you mad earlier?” “Oh, my girlfriend.” Mycroft lied smoothly. Greg barked in laughter. “You have a girlfriend?” He cried, laughing so hard that Mycroft turned to him just in case he fell and required an audience to his subsequent embarrassment. “Well, she’s not my girlfriend. She’s a friend and I like her but I don’t know if she likes me.” He adjusted, mimicking a plot to a movie trailer he’d seen some time ago. “Well, let me help! I have four sisters, I can definitely tell you if she likes you or not.” “Ah.” He should just leave, just turn around and leave well enough alone but there was something in him that wanted nothing more than to stay planted here and try at being normal. “Well, she and I have known each other for a long time and I cannot for the life of me tell if she’s being friendly with me or if she’s flirting.” He began, pulling details out of thin air and lining them up. It was calming, he was sure that indicated something unflattering about him. “Sometimes when we’re walking she’ll hold my arm or when we’re sitting together she’ll position her legs over mine.” “Sounds like she likes you!” “That’s what I thought, but just this afternoon we got into argument. We were hanging out with our friends-” He was amazed Greg didn’t laugh at that line, he certainly would have if he weren’t consciously trying not to. “- and one of them, Yardsley, began asking if we were a couple and she became incensed. After they began arguing I suggested we talk about something else and she accused me of not sticking up for her. She left after that.” Mycroft sighed under the grief of the situation. “I just...I feel angry with myself for not standing up for her as much as I could have but I was also hurt that she was so angered at the thought of being with me.” He began to feel legitimately sad as his self-image problems crept to the surface, wonderful. “I just feel like I’ve failed on all fronts today.” “You didn’t fail! You just wanted to be friendly and fair to everyone. Yeardsley sounds like he was being a dick and your girlfriend or whoever sounds like she overreacted, but it also sounds like it could have been an honest question or maybe Yoursley and her have a history, you know? You did the best you could.” “Yes, just like how you did the best you could with Yardsley’s name.” “It’s a stupid name.” Mycroft burst into laughter, loud and short in the silence of the back garden. “Yes!” He agrees, doubled over. “It is a very stupid name.” Greg joins in this laughter and Mycroft feels something inside him adjust itself minutely. It feels like something has loosened, been made freer. “Perhaps we-” The sliding door was opened by his mother at that moment and it was as if the air had been sucked out of everything. She looked the two of them over coldly before smiling. “Gregory, your father has been looking for you!” She chided gently, ushering the two of them in.  “And Mycroft come here, I want to talk to you.” The two of them followed his mother to the living room, where Mycroft’s father was standing and regaling guests with a tale of some exploit or another. One of the men gestured Greg over and he obeyed, waving to Mycroft as he went. Mycroft waved back as he was dragged by his mother to another room. “I’m glad to see you making friends.” She said, in a tone that made clear the opposite. “Next time do you think you could- oh!” She tore her hand away from Mycroft, her fussing cut short. Horrified, she stared at her white glove which was covered in the melted remains of a profiterole he’d placed in there with the intent to eat it before he’d been interrupted. His heart beat so fast it pained him. “Mother-” “What is this.” He stayed quiet, debating whether or not to speak up. Was this a rhetorical question? Would she- “What IS this?” She repeated, hissing so as not to shout. “It’s...I’m sorry.” “I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked-” “Mycroft!” They both turned to see Greg, looking jovial as ever, standing in the doorway. “Hey, I have to leave so I wanted to say goodbye!” Glad for the intrusion, Mycroft walked over to the boy and held out his hand to shake. Greg used the hand to pull him into a hug. “I hope we get to talk again, tell me how it works out!” “I’ll walk you to the door.” Mycroft offered, taking care not to look back into the eyes that were boring into the back of his head. “What a gentleman~” Greg teased. When they reached the door Mycroft smiled and gave a polite ‘goodbye’ to the Lestrades, turning to go when Greg called out. “If she doesn’t like you then I can introduce you to some real girls!” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, apparently caught. He called back, undeterred. “Is it one of your sisters? I won’t put up with sly attempts to marry into my family Gregory!” “Yeah right, I’d rather marry you than have you date one of my sisters!” And with that he was gone, rushing down the driveway to meet up with his parents.     Recognizing his opportunity, Mycroft quickly made his way upstairs and into his bedroom, closing the door softly. Immediately Sherlock knocked on his wall in Morse code. ‘Is it over?’ to which Mycroft exhaustedly responded. ‘No. Sleep.’ Hearing nothing back he finally changed into pajamas and collapsed onto his bed. He would tell his father that he had eaten something off if he was asked where he’d gone. He would… He closed his eyes and thought of the boy he’d met. Greg Lestrade, what a peculiar character...He hadn’t known that people could radiate, hadn’t known that laughter could spark something inside of someone. He hadn’t known that the thought of marriage, of a future, could fill him with anything but anxiety and dread.                He hadn’t known that a person could be made of light.    

[poisonedfortunecookie]

Finally I have something for week 1 of @shance-cafe summer shance event [info here] . So for week 1 I went for party, specifically pool party. After writing this I decided to write this as a multi chapter summer fic, because I have an idea for a future chapter that can go along with this so why not. So here is the star of Lance’s best summer ever, he has a new neighbour, and oh no, he’s hot! 

[read on ao3]

Lance had a new neighbour. Although he hadn’t seen the guy once in the two weeks it’s been since he moved in, Lance knew he was there. First, he heard him move in at one in the morning. There was some effort to keep quiet on the new neighbours part, voices kept low and hushed, doors shut as quietly as was possible, but there wasn’t much that could be done to mute the rumble of the truck’s engine, or the loud curse when the man dropped what sounded like a box of china on his driveway. It disturbed Lance’s beauty sleep, but being the generous soul that he is, he let it slide. After all, as any decent person would do, Lance was sure the new neighbour will drop by soon enough to introduce himself and apologise for the late night move in (he must have his reasons), so Lance shoved the earplugs deeper into his ears and went back to sleep. But that wasn’t the end of those late night noises. It seemed the man was moving in bit by bit, always late at night. He only ever seemed to move in a few boxes at a time, so the disruption was over quickly, and he did try to stay quiet, but his driveway is right by Lance’s bedroom, and the rumble of the engine woke him every time. And the man still hasn't been over to introduce himself. So Lance took matters into his own hands. He marched across the driveway and knocked on his neighbour's door, a home cooked pie in hand. Perhaps the guy was too busy with the move, or maybe just shy, so it’s up to Lance to make the first move, welcome him to the neighbourhood and maybe drop a subtle hint that the late night move-ins are a little disruptive. The man did not answer. 

Faced with no other choice, Lance left the pie on his new neighbour's doorstep, along with a note. At the very least the guy will return his dish when he’s finished the pie. Right? It’s been a week since Lance left the pie, and not a peep or even a thank you from his neighbour, and now the guy had the audacity to hold a pool party and not invite Lance, his neighbour. Lance was furious. The inconsiderate, late-night disruptions were one thing, but to be completely ignored and then not invited to a party was a huge insult. Lance was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to offend the man (he hadn’t even had the chance), and maybe the guy didn’t like the pie, but that was no reasons not to invite him to his party. Refusing to take the insult lying down, Lance threw on his best party outfit (shorts that showed off his long, toned legs, and his favourite crop top). He took some extra time with his skincare and hair, making sure he looked his best before strutting over to his neighbour's house. It’s not the first time Lance has crashed a party. The door was wide open, inviting, the house and garden full of music, people and lively chatter. Lance recognised several of his neighbours. In fact, it seemed that the entire street had been invited. Everyone, except for Lance. He made his way through the house, taking note of the minimal decorations and personal touches, telling him absolutely nothing about its inhabitant. Most of the party was out in the garden, a barbeque going that everyone was milling around. The pool was empty. The water glistened in the bright sunlight, perfectly clear. ‘What a waste,’ Lance thought to himself. The sun was blazing hot, and the pool looked so enticing, but no one seemed brave enough to be the first to take the plunge. Lance would have had he not been tempted by the smell of burgers. Lance knew, at the very least, the guy took the pie in. Whether he ate it or threw it out was another matter, but the next step in Lance’s revenge (after crashing the party) was to eat the guy's food. It was rather petty, the food was there for the party guests anyway, but Lance felt a small sense of satisfaction devouring the burger that he wasn’t invited to partake in. He glanced around, wondering where the host of the party might be. The man flipping burgers at the barbeque was another neighbourhood resident, a guy notorious for taking over the grill at garden parties. So he wasn’t Lance’s new neighbour. Even the people at the drinks table either looked familiar or so awkwardly out of place that it was clear this wasn’t their home. Lance grabbed himself a beer and flopped down on the nearest garden chair in a huff. How was he supposed to confront his neighbour if he couldn’t even find the guy? Was he avoiding him on purpose? Lance took a big swig of the beer. “Not enjoying the party?” A shadow fell over Lance, and he looked up to see a true Adonis standing over him, a bottle of beer in each hand. Chiselled features, a ripped physique and drop-dead gorgeous, he was just the kind of guy Lance loved to find at parties, but he wasn’t in the mood to flirt right now. “Not really, My nephews sixth birthday party was better,” Lance said flatly before taking another swig of his beer. It was lukewarm, another point against the party. “Hmm, that’s not really a fair comparison, is it? Kids get to have bouncy castles and clowns and other fun stuff at their parties,” the stranger chuckled. “Maybe,” Lance took another swig of his almost empty beer, “but there could at least be a game of beer pong, or even pin the tail on the donkey or something.” The man laughed. “Ok, you do have a point. The entertainment is lacking.” He took a seat next to Lance and held out one of the beers. “Another?” The lukewarm beer was kinda gross, but Lance would need it to get through this party. He chugged the rest of his beer and took the offered bottle, clicking it against the man's bottle in thanks before downing half of it in one.

“So do you know the guy who lives here?” Lance asked, eyeing the stranger cautiously. “I know of him.” The man’s answer was vague enough for Lance to relax. From his answer, it didn’t seem like they were close friends or anything, so it was probably safe for Lance to vent his frustrations to him. Well, he couldn't bite his tongue a moment longer, the lukewarm beer was the final straw. “You know, I live next door, and I haven’t even seen the guy once since he moved in. Not even a hello.” “Oh?” “Right. And this guy has been moving his stuff in at all hours of the night. Sure he tried to keep quiet, but you know his driveway is right by my bedroom.” “Hmm, that is rather inconsiderate.” Lance nodded vehemently, taking another swig of his beer before going on. “I figured you know, he’s probably really busy, but he’ll come around later to introduce himself and apologise. But does he? So I go over with a home cooked pie to welcome him to the neighbourhood, and he doesn’t even answer the door.” “Maybe he wasn’t in?” “Well sure, maybe. But I left the pie on his doorstep, and he still hasn’t returned my dish, or thanked me for it.” “Hmm,” the man grumbled in sympathy.

“And to top it all off do you know what,” Lance paused, glancing around conspiringly to make sure no one else was listening. He leaned in closer to the man, his voice low, “he didn’t even invite me to this party, and yet the whole neighbourhood is here! Can you believe that?” “You didn’t get an invite? But I posted it through your door personally.” “No, I didn’t, I-wait...you did what…” Lance paled. The man smiled ruefully and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Shiro, your new neighbour.” “You...oh my god you are such an asshole, you just let me go off like.” Colour returned to Lance's face, now a shameful red. Shiro laughed, he didn’t sound in the least offended. “Sorry. I should have said something, but I wanted to hear what you thought of me. I guess I have a lot to apologise for.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Shiro and kept quiet. “I meant to come over sooner, but after I moved my stuff in, I got really sick. I was curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself on the day you came over. By the time I got to the door you were already gone, but that pie you left was a godsend. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and I didn’t have the energy to cook. I probably would have starved without it.” “After that, I came over a couple of times to return the dish, but you weren’t there. I wanted to thank you in person, so I didn’t leave it on your doorstep.” “Oh…” Lance took another swig of his beer so he wouldn’t have to say any more, his face still dark with shame. “And I definitely posted your invite through your door, yours was the first one I delivered, but still, I owe you an apology for the late night move-ins and not introducing myself until now,” he extended his hand to Lance, “can you forgive me?” Lance stared at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching out for it. He half expected Shiro to crush his fingers in retaliation for all his complaining, but Shiro’s grip was firm and warm. “I guess when you put it like that I can forgive you,” Lance coughed. “But now I know what happened to your invite. Princess Blue, my cat, long story, hides anything that gets posted through my door if I don’t manage to get to it first. I think she's trying to protect me from unsolicited junk mail.” Shiro laughed. He was still holding Lance’s hand even after they shook on it. “Well, I’m glad you came anyway.” Lance flushed darker. “Would you like another beer? I have some cold ones in the fridge I’m saving for people I like,” Shiro offered with a hint of something that was almost bashful as if he were afraid Lance might refuse. “What? You like people who insult you?” Shiro laughed again. “We’ve shaken on it, that’s all in the past now. Come on.” He got to his feet, pulling Lance with him, dragging him through the throng of people to the kitchen. After the third, cold beer, Lance was genuinely enjoying the party. Shiro was kind, and funny, and didn’t seem to hold any animosity toward him for his earlier rant. It didn’t hurt that everything about him, from his appearance to his personality, was exactly Lance’s type too, and it may be wishful thinking,

but Lance thinks that Shiro might just be flirting with him. “How can anyone come to a pool party and not get in the pool?” Lance complained, gazing at the water with longing as they stood by the edge of the pool. “Why don’t you take a dip?” “Well I didn’t get my invite, so I didn’t know this was a pool party.” “You could go and get changed, I promise I won’t end the party while you're gone.” “I could, but that requires effort,” Lance groaned. It was too hot, and he didn’t want to risk breaking the momentum he’d built with Shiro. What if someone else stole him while he was away? “Oh well then, I guess you only have one choice.” Lance didn’t hear the warning in Shiro’s voice until it was too late. Suddenly a pair of strong arms swept him off his feet. “What are you-?” Shiro smirked, and Lance’s eyes widened with realisation. “Don’t you dare!” He shrieked. Shiro threw him into the pool without a second thought. Lance screamed. He hit the water with a loud splash, and he could hear Shiro’s laugher even under the water. He surfaced spluttering and coughing, glaring up at Shiro from beneath sopping bangs. “What the hell?” “Sorry. It’s just, you looked like you really wanted to go in, so I thought I’d give you a push.” It was a good job Shiro had a cute smile. Lance forgave him immediately. Shiro crouched down and offered Lance his hand, and maybe Lance’s hadn’t forgiven him completely. He had a better idea. He grabbed Shiro’s hand and pulled him into the pool. “Well, I should have seen that coming,” Shiro laughed after breaking the surface. His hair was drenched, the white forelock plastered to his face. His shirt, already tight, clung to him like a second skin and Lance might have made a mistake, but there was no going back now. He splashed Shiro before the other man could notice him staring. Shiro splashed him right back. “Water fight!” Someone yelled, and more people jump into the pool. Quickly, it got crowded, and although more people were splashing and playing about in the pool now, no one tried to butt in on their fight, not that they left any room for anyone to join them. “Ok truce, truce,” Shiro called after several minutes of violent splashing. They were both soaked through, and there was no clear winner to show for it. He pushed himself through the water towards Lance and caught the other man’s wrist to stop him splashing him again. Lance considered splashing Shiro with his other hand, ignoring the truce, but then he felt Shiro's hand deliberately slip into his own, before lacing their fingers together under the water.

“Do you want to get out and dry off? You can use my bathroom.” “I only live next door.” Lance squeezed Shiro’s hand and pulled him closer. The water glittered around them, the light reflected sharply off Shiro's chiselled features defining them, and it got caught in Lance's eyes, bringing out the depth of the dark blue, making them sparkle.

Shiro smiled, a smile Lance soon felt against his lips. It was wet and tasted of chlorine and beer.

[theantthatwrites]

Demoniac: The Parasitic King (Part 2)

The four-armed girl led me up a set of stairs. “We already searched the first floor, but we didn’t touch the second yet. Looks like you get first grabs.” She motioned to a corridor lined with doors. “Pick a room and go mad.”

I chose a bed chamber on the right side. Inside, a soft red carpet led to a silk canopy obscured bed. A grand mirror stood in the corner of the room and a number of paintings of noble looking people lined the walls. I noticed a regal looking armoire near the bed and searched inside.

To my surprise, there was only one outfit within.

“Quite the kingly raiment,” Tilly remarked.

I grabbed the clothes and looked expectantly at the woman. After a moment of awkward silence, she crossed her arms and smirked. “Trust me, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

I swallowed my embarrassment and got changed in front of Tilly. When I took my pants off she smiled mockingly. “Well, I can understand your hesitation now. I can’t say I’m impressed.”

The king’s clothing, to my surprise, fit perfectly. As I gazed at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel as if I did this before.

When I was finished, we returned to the main hall. The hearth burned brilliantly as it fended off the cold seeping in from outside. The group of demons was still seated at the benches, reveling the night away. A hooded monster with four eyes and insect-like mandibles was betting the fat monster, who I deduced was named Klaus, that he couldn’t down two mugs of whatever they were drinking at the same time. Klaus won.

As he basked in his victory, Klaus noticed me standing in my new clothes. “Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were going to have royalty grace us with their presence.” The rest of the group laughed. “So what should we call you, Your Grace? I take it your memory hasn’t returned yet.”

I tried to remember my name. It turns out Klaus was correct. I couldn’t recall anything from before I arrived in Demoniac. “Now that you mention it…” I said.

Klaus nodded. “Yep, yep, say no more. Give it some time, you’ll remember eventually. In the meantime, you need to be called something.”

“How about ‘King Snow’?” Tilly suggested.

“‘Snow’?” I asked.

“That hair of yours. It’s the whitest thing I’ve ever seen. Not to mention you’re as pale as a ghost.” Tilly shrugged. “I think it fits.”

I actually kind of liked the suggestion. Of course, it helped that I didn’t have any ideas of my own to add to the mix. I had more important things on my mind than a name. “Works for me,” I replied.

“Well, if there’s no complaints then Snow it is.” Klaus motioned to a seat on the bench across from him. “Take a load off, Your Grace. Help yourself to some grub. Don’t worry, it’s not literal grub. Jack, pour our new friend a drink.”

Jack grabbed an empty mug and poured a golden liquid from a flagon. He handed it to me with an expression that showed nothing but venom. The demon with the mandibles passed me a plate covered with a meat I didn’t recognize. I didn’t realize that I was hungry until the food was sitting right in front of me. I grabbed a hunk of it with my bare hands due to a lack of utensils. I immediately felt bile creep up my gullet after I swallowed. I reached desperately for my mug of unknown Demoniac alcohol to try and wash out the taste. I began to retch and it took all I had not to vomit.

Klaus looked on in curiosity. “Huh. Never saw anyone react to cliff grazer meat and Destrolus Whiskey like that before. Guess everyone has their tastes.”

I decided against tasting any more of the local cuisine and instead joined in on the conversation with my hosts. There were five of them in all: Klaus, Tilly, Jack, Michael, the hooded one with the mandibles, and David, a demon with tentacles for arms and slimy fish-esque skin. I discovered that they were a group of bandits who recently ambushed a caravan of traveling merchants and were taking shelter in this castle. They were planning on making the castle their hideout, at least for a while, due to the luxurious nature of it, and its seclusion. The bandits also spoke of nearby villages just outside of the forest that could be easy targets.

“Honestly, if you hadn’t been a new arrival, I’d have let Jack slit your throat. Turns out poverty isn’t inherently bad,” Klaus informed me without a hint of remorse.

I wasn’t too bothered being in the company of bandits. I was new to this world and they were willing to help me settle in. They seemed like good enough people, as far as monster bandits go. Who was I to judge how they chose to survive in this land I knew nothing about?

During a lull in conversation, I asked about the cloaked figure I followed to the castle after it occurred to me that I never found him.

“Sounds like a Watcher,” David answered. “Don’t bother them and they won’t bother you. They just do their own thing.”

As the night winded down, Michael decided to entertain us with horror stories.

“Scary stories?” Tilly questioned. “How childish are you?”

A wry smile formed on Michael’s face. “Why, Tilly, you aren’t afraid, are you?”

The fierce Jack let out a small chuckle as he added more wood to the hearth. Tilly blushed. “Of course not! I just think we’re all beyond the point of being scared of stories. We’re demons, for fuck’s sake!”

Klaus downed another mug of Destrolus Whiskey. A little missed his mouth and dripped down his chins. “Don’t listen to her, Michael, scare the fuckin’ pants off us.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, if you insist.” He poured himself another cup of drink. “As most of you know; sorry, Snow.” I waved him off, not bothered by being out of the loop. “As most of you know, before I joined this little band here, I was a dock worker at Calamity Harbor. One of my friends there told me how he used to travel with a group of treasure hunters. One day they found themselves exploring this abandoned estate. Real nice place apparently, filled to the brim with valuables, yet for some reason untouched. That should have been their first hint that something was wrong. Anyway, they all start grabbing anything they could get their grubby hands on well into the night. My friend, with a sack full of loot, decides it’s time to find the others. He tries calling out to them. No answer. He’s searching this house from top to bottom and there’s no sign of anybody anywhere. That is, until he spots a trail of blood.”

“The fool follows the trail and at the end of it he finds a beast with glowing eyes and a body that seemed ethereal. Just so you know, ethereal means ghostly, David, you stupid bastard,” Michael jibed while taking a swig of whiskey.

“I know what ethereal means, you whoreson!” David hissed.

The group laughed as Michael continued his tale.

“The monster was crouched on a pile of slaughtered corpses; the remains of his companions. In its claws it grasped another of his friends, sliced up and bent, but still breathing. As it held the broken man, the creature spoke. ‘You enter my home uninvited, steal my things’ it said,  ‘now you’ll pay the price!’ When my friend’s companion noticed him standing nearby, he yelled out to him. ‘Henry!’ he called out as loudly as his ravaged body would allow. Henry was my friend’s name, if you couldn’t figure that one out. Again, David, looking at you.”

David opened his mouth to retort but was quieted by a nudge from Tilly.

“‘Run, Henry!’ the man ordered. That was all he could say before the monster opened its gaping maw and dug into the neck of its prey. Henry turned and ran, trying his best to ignore the ghastly screams coming from behind him. He managed to escape the estate, but dropped all of his loot in his panicked flight. From that day on, he turned his back on the treasure hunting life. He may have made it out alive, but he said to this day he still sees that monster every time he closes his eyes.”

A thick silence fell on our group. The hearth’s flame crackled, sending the occasional spark floating down to the stone floor. On the throne at the top of the hall, a once beautifully golden seat now tarnished with age and disregard, a black bird reminiscent to a crow stood on the chair’s back. It must have flown in from one of the various holes in the ceiling when no one was looking.

“...That’s it?” Tilly asked.

“That’s it,” replied Michael with a grin.

“...I hate you.”

Everyone went to bed soon after Michael’s tale. I decided to sleep in the chamber where I found my clothing. The canopy obscured bed was made of feathers, making it unbelievably soft. The blankets expertly fought off the cold seeping through the crumbling walls. Unfortunately, these royal accommodations could not bring on an easy sleep.

Hunger pierced my stomach like arrows. I tossed and turned as it growled as if it was an angry beast. I wasn’t sure what to do. From the sound of it, my new companions only had that terrible cliff grazer meat for food and that wasn’t an option. There would be no way I could keep that down. A glimmer of hope appeared during the middle of the night however,  when I caught a whiff of something delicious; more delicious than I could have possibly wished for. I stumbled through the darkness as I followed the scent.

The aroma led me to the room where David slept. I crept closer, trying to see if I could find its source. I licked my lips in anticipation as the smell became stronger. In the end, I came up empty handed. The trail ended at David. Confused and defeated, I slunk silently back to my bed, gripping my stomach as it grumbled in disappointment. I couldn’t say when or how I fell asleep, but I managed it.

[thevagabondvantage]

8.29.2018

The bus has always made me so nauseous. When I was a little girl, Momma and Daddy would take me into town so we could go to the grocery store. Our house was out on the corner of Morehead Drive and West Section Street, so the only way to get anywhere was to take the early morning bus to the square. Momma would make sure I brought my white sweater so I wouldn’t get too cold in my seat. The seats… They used to be made of this dark blue scratchy material; the very thought makes my nose crinkle and my eyes water. 

I could always tell how much I’d grown since the last trip by how close my feet were to the ground. The first time I rode the bus, my black-buckle shoes barely came off the front of the seat. I couldn’t wait to be able to grow just a little more so I could swing my legs off the front of the seat! Some years later, ‘bout the time I started high school, I suppose, we got on the bus and my feet touched all the way down. Some ladies talk and say they knew they were a woman the day they got married or the day they saw their brand new baby’s tiny fingers... Not me. My feet resting on that dusty floor told me I had become a woman. I sat a little taller in my bus seat from then on; it was a good day.

“Is this seat taken?” I look up to find a rather plump woman wearing gloves pointing at the seat next to me. I scooch over to make room for her. As she gets comfortable, I notice she smells like lavender and cats; looks like her name should be something like Betsy or Ruth.

The nausea hits. Maybe it’s motion sickness or maybe I’m allergic to the musty old men scattered around the rows and rows of seats. I look out the window for some relief. Mountains are in the distance - my mountains. I don’t own them or anything, but they’ve always been there for me. My entire life has been spent inside of these mountains - a beautiful, natural fence in a way...

“Next stop, Asheville, 390 miles” the driver exclaims. I let myself ease into my seat some more. Normally, I’d have gotten off at the square about three stops ago; not today.

“Peppermint?” Betsy/Ruth asks. I glance into her hand where she has four individually wrapped mints. Momma used to bring a peppermint in her purse for when I started to feel sick. She and Daddy have been gone for a few years now, and I haven’t fancied the smell or flavor since then.

“No, but thanks, ma’am,” I reply. The nausea hits again. Maybe I should have taken the mint. Betsy/Ruth puts the mints away and pulls off her gloves. She looks out the window.

“Mighty beautiful mountains, aren’t they?” It’s as if she’d read my mind.

“I’ll say.”

“They say when the peaks of the mountains start to turn to a dark brown like that, it’s time for something new.” Betsy/Ruth was right. “How old are you, sweet? You don’t look to be a day older than sixteen!”

“Oh,” I chuckle. “I’ve been nineteen for about ten days now.”

“Nineteen,” she sighs. “Well, enjoy it while you can. You get to be my age and can’t remember what nineteen ever felt like.” I’d hoped she was right. I didn’t want to feel nineteen ever again. Young and lost, not knowing where you just were or where you’re about to go. Everyone treating you like you’re a baby, but still expecting you to have it together - it’s too much for one person! “I’m being awfully rude,” she continues. “I’m Margaret, Margaret Fowler.”

“Anne Rawlins,” I respond.

“Pleasure, truly.” Her smile is genuine and welcoming. “Tell me, Anne, what’s got you headed to Asheville on this chilly Tuesday morning?”

“Well,” I clear my throat. “I just finished taking writing classes at Duke. Professor Ripley told me in my last quarter that all the best writers get their start at the Asheville Gazette, so I’m headed there to write something!” When Daddy died, he took my hand and gave me permission to be anything I wanted to be. I was already planning on it, but he didn’t need to know that then; would have spoiled the moment.

“A writer! Well, isn’t that something!” That’s usually the reaction I get from people. Some people don’t think a woman should own a typewriter. Actually, some don’t even think a woman should wear a watch, but I ain’t too concerned about those kinds of folks. They don’t usually read anyway…

“What’s bringing you to Asheville, Miss Margaret?”

“Please, call me Margie. Miss Margaret was my great-great grandmother’s name. I may be old, but I’m not that old!” She took a deep breathe through her nose. “Asheville is home! I was just in Smithville visiting my sister. Her husband died last year and she hasn’t taken too kindly to widowhood. How could she, though? She did practically everything for the man! A life once filled with cooking, cleaning, hosting, and entertaining reduced to a life filled with napping, bathing, and reading. It’s tragic if you ask me.” What about napping, bathing, and reading sounded so unappealing to her? I sort of wish her sister and I could trade places for a day.

“Asheville is mighty long way to go, my dear! What will your family do without you?” She was getting a little too nosy for my liking.

“Well, Mama’s been gone for four years now, and Daddy gone for maybe six? I don’t have anyone to miss having me around.”

“A girl without a family - what a tragic cause!” I could tell this wasn’t going anywhere. “If I were you, I’d go and try to snatch up a good man in Asheville before you turn twenty!”

“Oh, I’ll be alright. I don’t need a man right now. I’m perfectly content as just me, my typewriter, and my wristwatch!” She uttered some disapproving groan in response.

“Darling, can I give you some advice?” She was going to regardless of what I said. To make things easier on both of us, I nodded. “I want you to really hear what I’m saying. No woman thinks they need a man, and they do just fine until they need to buy a house, or a car, or want to express an opinion or two. Then they realize just how hard the real world is without a man. The world is run by men, and they’ve yet to learn to listen to anyone other than men! No woman needs a man, but the man tells the woman she does, so let that run through your naive, feminist mind. A woman with a typewriter and a wristwatch is nothing without a Tom, Dick, or Harry.”

I turned back toward my window. I felt hot, frustrated tears begin to gather at the edge of my eyes. I was going to hold it together - I had to prove this woman wrong. Who was she to tell me how my life will turn out - with or without a husband?! I’ll show her… I’ll show them all-

“Do you want a Peppermint?” Margie offers again.

“I want to go home.” I decline.

“And I want to go to the moon,” she spits back as she returns the mints to her purse. “It ain’t happening, sweetheart. Time to accept that.” She turns away, busying herself with knitting.

I look in the distance for some familiar comfort, but the mountains - my mountains - are further away than ever before. I realize that the bus isn’t any better with two feet on the floor, and womanhood is only sweet with the independence I thought I’d earned. A hot, determined tear rolls down my cheek; I’m not willing to be wrong.

[thefeministherald]

The 2018 Sundance Film Festival has passed, and a quiet year for deals and buzz led some to speculate films focused on people of color and women were the reason for fewer acquisitions. “Who are these movies for?” griped an influential distributor to Variety. On Twitter, “Blindspotting” producer Keith Calder perfectly summed up the fallacy in that question: “White male privilege is thinking a movie that doesn’t appeal to you is a movie that doesn’t appeal to anyone. If you are a film executive attending Sundance… at least have the class and self-respect to not anonymously trash those movies in the press.” (“Blindspotting” eventually sold to Lionsgate at the end of the festival.)

The anonymous buyer’s comments — and Calder’s subsequent rebuke — highlight underlying growing pains for a festival angling for more diverse programming, but lacking sufficient voices to champion such work.

Hollywood is an industry dominated by white men, and so’s the media, but the ethos of this year’s Sundance programming was clear: We are the outsiders, the unsung, the uncelebrated, and the marginalized. “The Tale,” “Damsel,” “Sorry to Bother You,” “The Miseducation of Cameron Post,” “Blindspotting,” “Monsters and Men” and “Monster” all centered on socially conscious messages. This year more than any other, I saw films that spoke to me on a deeply personal level. I found characters I recognized and identified with, rather than de facto representations. I did not have to choose between the white female characters or the black male characters that did not fully speak to me as a black woman.

I wasn’t inundated with a host of films that capitalized on black pain. “Precious,” a Sundance 2009 breakout, was a brilliant film — but words cannot express my joy leaving the theater last year after the quirky and carefree “The Incredible Jessica James,” one of the few movies in the 2017 lineup to have that effect. This year, I saw myself equally responsive to the female companionship of “Skate Kitchen,” and the ferocious satire of race relations in “Sorry To Bother You.”

As I (and other people of color) celebrated this year’s films and reveled in this watershed moment, I found it disquieting to hear industry colleagues and fellow critics complain that they didn’t “get” it. It was comical to hear people who live for Edgar Wright’s Cornetto Trilogyremaining lukewarm on “Blindspotting.” Carlos Lopez Estrada‘s stylized buddy comedy clearly draws from Wright’s work; in fact, if Wright were born black and grew up in the Bay Area, he would probably have made something a lot like “Blindspotting.” Furthermore, people who loved Spike Jonze’s “Being John Malkovich” or Michel Gondry’s Eternal “Sunshine of The Spotless Mind” dismissed Boots Riley’s “Sorry to Bother You” as “scattershot” or “too weird,” even though Riley channeled their surrealist storytelling methods for an all-too-timely story.

I was especially astonished to witness the backlash to “The Tale.” The movie’s central drama revolves around a disturbingly accurate scene of sexual abuse. Fandango journalist Alicia Malone confided that she overheard two men deriding the movie minutes after the premiere, with one admitting, “I didn’t need to see that.” Another added, “Why would you want to put that out there?”

I’m sure any sexual assault survivor — including Jennifer Fox, the film’s director — would argue that such discomfort is precisely why the movie needed to be made. Another column posted midway through the festival lamented, “Where are all the masterpieces?” There are actually several answers.

“Sorry to Bother You” is a satirical masterpiece that addresses our age of racial confusion. In “Sorry to Bother You,” Lakeith Stanfield’s character uses his “white voice” for career advancement, and it’s a laser-focused dagger into the heart of modern-day racial identity politics. And I would dub “Blindspotting” a near-perfect political musical without melody, but with a undeniable beat. When leads Collin (Daveed Diggs) and Miles (Rafael Casal) break into freestyle rap conversations, they’re woven into the plot as seamlessly as musical numbers, with Collin’s freestyle breakdown of institutionalized racism sustaining the movie’s themes.

However, while Sundance can program these breakthroughs, it hasn’t done the same for its audience. The festival’s moviegoers are largely comprised of white, well-to-do industry insiders, critics from major publications, and a few dedicated freelancers and cinephiles who can afford the costly trek to Park City. (Then there are the Utah locals.) I’m blessed to work for a major outlet, and my sisters at BlackGirlNerds.com were supported by private sponsorship to add our voice to the conversation. To be fair, the festival has always worked to promote female filmmakers, filmmakers of color, and marginalized voices, but even a casual observer would argue that this year was different.

Behind the numbers lies a hidden truth: Sundance can shake up its programming, but that’s not enough to stimulate broader conversations about a more inclusive film community. The festival made a visible effort to increase the diversity of the lineup; insiders called it “a down year,” “a political statement”, or, worse yet, “boring.” Two of the highest-dollar acquisitions — “Assassination Nation,” which sold to Neon for $10 million, and the brilliantly divisive “Sorry To Bother You,” which was acquired by Annapurna — both featured women and people of color in fresh takes on genre filmmaking.

However, the films had very few critics of color commenting on them, a long-running problem in film criticism. The predominately minority films “Blindspotting” (90%) and “Sorry to Bother You” (83%) are rated fresh on Rotten Tomatoes’ Tomatometer, but critics of color comprise only 25% of the total reviews submitted. How might the averages of these films shift if the critic demographics reflected the general audience?

This year saw more critics of color in Park City, but as Shadow and Act’s Aramide A. Tinubu pointed out, the turnout was far from sufficient. “The representation of the Black press is abysmal,” she wrote. “Black press simply isn’t as valued in the entertainment space. Though we are constantly writing about and trying to get through the door to speak with artists of color, our phone calls and emails often go unanswered.”

As the festival director for Blackgirlnerds.com, I can confirm that the struggle is real—even more so when a person of color is not featured in the main cast. If Sundance 2018 is the tip of the spear, the follow-through must include gender and racial parity in film criticism and access to match. The conversation around films in the “Park City bubble” is as meaningful as the films themselves. As “Sorry to Bother You” star Tessa Thompson pointed out during the film’s panel at the MACRO lounge: “There is a real responsibility to make sure that the people who get to talk about our work also look like us—the gatekeepers cannot all be white cis males.”

A monolithic voice in film criticism can also negatively impact the box office. Films like “Get Out” and “Wonder Woman” show how representation can drive ticket sales. Conversely, if an audience is not provided new stories that inspire a trip to the theater, box office numbers will continue to decline. Quiet buzz around films at Sundance could depress expectations for distribution, and some of the more visionary films from the festival may fail to gather an audience. Providing racial and gender parity in the conversation can help foster these new filmmakers. Each group provides a unique perspective, and the film community should reflect that if we want to accurately evaluate new storytellers.

[lastbluetardis]

And Baby Makes Three (6/6)

And here we are, at the end of Ainsley’s section of this series! There will be a short epilogue that I’ll post probably tomorrow.

This was beta-ed by the incomparable @chocolatequeennk. Thank you!!

Ten x Rose, Soulmates AU, NSFW (most of this chapter is nsfw, as James and Rose celebrate their anniversary).

With the decision to try for a baby made, James and Rose eagerly look forward to this newest chapter of their lives.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Epilogue

James and Rose spent the next week decorating their house for Christmas, which they had decided to host alongside Robert and Jackie. When the decision had first been made a few weeks before Ainsley’s birth, James and Rose had wanted to be in a familiar environment, both for themselves and for their baby, and they hadn’t wanted to make the long journey to Scotland with a baby they thought would be barely a week old.

Jackie and Robert arrived at the house on Christmas Eve morning to help finish decorating, begin the meal preparations, and dote on their growing granddaughter.

“Want to show Gran and Grandad what you learned to do, sweetheart?” Rose cooed when they first arrived.

Ainsley rewarded them with a beaming smile, and an enthusiastic flailing of her arms.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Robert praised, tickling the bottom of her feet. “So gorgeous, sweetheart!”

“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” James said proudly from where he was standing on a chair to put the star atop the tree.

Christmas day found their house bustling with people as family members arrived for Christmas dinner. While it was exhausting to entertain so many people and keep a six-week old baby happy, James and Rose delighted in being able to show off their daughter and introduce her to their family.

“So precious!” James’s grandmother said as Ainsley smiled her way around the room, contentedly tucked away in her father’s arms. “Can I hold her?”

James nodded and passed her off, before he wandered back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

“Where’s Ainsley?” Rose asked as she sampled a bit of the turkey that was ready to be carved.

“Ainsley?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “Who’s Ainsley?”

Rose smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you mean the gorgeous baby everyone is cooing over? I left her with my grandmum.”

“She really has everyone falling in love with her, doesn’t she?” Rose said, peeking into the living room as grown adults crowded around their baby and babbled nonsense at her.

“’Course! She’s the most loveable human in the universe!” he exclaimed proudly. “Just like her mum.”

James wrapped his arm around Rose’s waist and pressed a firm kiss to the side of her head.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always,” he said, grabbing a fresh bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Are your dad’s parents still around?” she asked. “It’s just… I’ve never seen them, or even heard of them. And I’ve never been able to bring myself to ask.”

James sighed and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

“His mum died when he was just a baby,” James said. “And his dad… Well, let’s just say he was a product of his era and his parents. He drank a lot and wasn’t a very pleasant man to my dad. Dad left as soon as he turned eighteen. Moved into my mum’s parents’ basement, actually. They cheated with the whole “no meeting your soulmate ‘til you’re eighteen” rule. But Mum was only ten months younger than Dad, so no one really said anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, feeling her heart break for Robert.

“Yeah,” James said. “But Mum’s family adopted him like one of their own. He hasn’t heard from his dad since, and I don’t think that really bothers him.”

Rose nodded and glanced into the living room where Robert was on the floor on his belly, mirroring Ainsley’s position as she practiced lifting her head up. It flopped to the ground after a few seconds, but even her small victory earned her an enthusiastic round of applause.

Later that evening after dinner and dessert and gift-giving—wherein everyone brought mostly things for Ainsley—Robert and James retreated to the kitchen to clean up from the meal.

“That went well,” James said, rinsing the dishes before loading them into the dishwasher. “As well as can be expected with a young baby.”

“Ainsley did great,” Robert agreed. “And so did Rose.”

James smiled softly, having just left his wife napping on the sofa, exhausted from the day’s events.

“So,” Robert said, “your anniversary is coming up. Any plans?”

James turned to face his dad and smirked. “You angling for a babysitting job?”

“You know I love that little girl to death,” Robert said, shrugging. “So, yeah, I wouldn’t mind keeping her overnight if you and Rose want a proper date night or something for your anniversary.”

“That’d be brilliant, actually,” James said. “Though I need to talk to Rose and see if she’d want to be away from Ainsley for an entire night. I’ll let you know, but one way or another, it’d be brilliant if you could keep Ainsley for a bit on the thirtieth.”

oOoOo

“You look stunning,” James breathed as he stepped into their en suite as Rose was touching up her makeup. They’d taken Robert up on his offer to babysit Ainsley overnight, and James had made reservations at one of their favorite date night restaurants, one they hadn’t visited in months. “So stunning.”

Rose beamed at him through the mirror as she capped her mascara and fixed her hair.

“Might I interest you in a pair of earrings?” James murmured, stepping up behind her and opening a velvet box. “You picked a perfect dress for these.”

Rose eagerly spun around and opened up the box, revealing a pair of drop earrings. Two diamonds led the way to the main ruby gemstone, and Rose delighted that the earrings would match perfectly to the deep burgundy gown she had donned for the evening.

“James, you spoil me,” Rose said breathlessly as she put on the earrings.

“It gives me such pleasure to do so, my love,” he murmured into her ear, and the gravelly tone of his voice and his warm breath made her shiver. “Come on. Don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“But I haven’t given you your gift yet,” Rose protested.

“Is it something I can use or wear at dinner?” he asked. At her negative shake of her head, he said, “Then you can give it to me when we get home. That all right?”

At her nod, he took her hand, led her to their car, and drove them into town for dinner.

For it being the end of December, the night air was refreshingly cold rather than unbearably bitter, and they didn’t mind the short walk from the carpark into the restaurant.

“Ah, so lovely!”

Rose turned and saw a late middle-aged man walking towards them.

“My youngest is pregnant with her first. When are you due?” the man said before he touched his hand to Rose’s belly.

“Oi!” Rose batted his hand away as James tightened his hold around her waist. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I had my baby seven weeks ago!”

The man had the decency to look embarrassed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize…”

“You know, even if she was still pregnant, that doesn’t give you the right to just come up and touch her,” James snarled. “Her body is her own.”

“Let’s just go inside, James,” Rose murmured, stroking her hand along his arm. “Come on.”

James huffed out an angry breath, but turned away from the flustered-looking man and the passers-by who had stopped to see what the raised voices were about.

“What a wanker,” he growled, leading Rose to their table. He helped her out of her coat and into her chair before plopping into the seat across the table.

“Yeah, he was,” Rose said simply, reaching out and taking her husband’s hand. “But forget about him. This night is about us, yeah?”

His face softened, and he smiled and brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

They spent the rest of their evening enjoying each other’s company without having to worry about being interrupted by a baby. It had been too long since they’d simply reveled in being alone together, and while they missed Ainsley, and sent Robert several check-in texts—to which he always replied with a photo of their daughter—they appreciated being able to celebrate their anniversary in peace.

After dinner, dessert, and dancing, they returned home, warm from the good food and wine they’d drunk, and with the anticipation of what was to come. With Rose cleared by her doctor to resume sexual intercourse, there had been an underlying buzz of excitement and arousal all evening, spurred on by the teasing touches and smiles they gave each other throughout dinner.

When Rose had tugged him in for a sensual kiss on the dance floor, scraping her nails through his hair and teasing his bottom lip between her teeth, it was all James could do to not drag her to the loo and shag her against the wall. Only the desire to make sweet and tender love to his wife all night long had kept him sane as she seemingly tried to unravel him, and he had hastily ushered her out of the restaurant and to their car, barely remembering to pay for their meal before they left.

She hadn’t been much better in the car, and her wandering hands and flirty glances had him aching with need by the time he pulled into their driveway. The cold night air cleared his head enough to be able to get them inside the house before he pounced.

He pinned her against the front door and pressed every inch of himself against her, letting her feel how much he wanted her, as though his hungry kisses weren’t evidence enough.

“Shall we at least get to the bedroom?” Rose murmured as he unfastened her coat and slipped his hands around to her back before dropping them to her bum.

“Why?” he asked, rocking against her as he caught her lips in short, hard kisses. “No one here but us. Feels so good. Bedroom’s so far away.”

Rose hummed lowly in agreement, but she didn’t fancy their first real shag after three months of celibacy to be against their front door.

“Please, James? Please take me to bed.”

James groaned, never being able to resist her when she said “please” like that. He rested his forehead against hers and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself before he stepped away from her. He shrugged out of his own coat and took Rose’s to hang them up by the door, before he took her hand and guided her down the hall to their bedroom.

They toed off their shoes and as Rose reached back to undo the zip of her dress, James grabbed her hands and moved them away.

“Let me,” he pleaded softly.

Rose’s breath hitched at the lust burning in his eyes, and she swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth as she spun away from him. Goosebumps broke out across her skin as he let his fingertips brush across her bare shoulders before walking their way to her zipper.

He inched the zipper down tooth by tooth, before he slipped his hand between the fabric and her skin and helped it fall to the floor. Rose stepped out of the dress, and watched James carefully put it back in their closet.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” he explained when he saw her smirk. “It’d be a shame for it to get all wrinkly.”

He then stepped towards her and reached around as though to remove her bra, but Rose stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“My turn,” she said simply when his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There’s a severely unfair clothing deficit in this bedroom.”

“Well, by all means, please level the playing field.”

Rose reached up and slowly unknotted his tie, letting the dark navy silk slip between her fingers.

“Always love undressing you,” Rose admitted as she pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders. “S’like unwrapping a present.”

“Yeah?” James asked, his eyes fluttering shut as Rose slipped her fingers under the waistband of his trousers to untuck his shirt.

“You haven’t noticed?” Rose teased, letting her fingers slowly slip all of his buttons from their holes.

“Well, yeah, but it’s still… Even after all this time, it feels nice that this part of our relationship hasn’t changed,” he admitted, a faint pink blush staining his cheeks. “Making love… It always feels as special and intense as our first night together. At least for me, it does.”

“For me, too,” Rose assured, lifting up on her toes to peck a kiss to his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close to him as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue tease its way around the inside of her mouth. He knew exactly where to dance his tongue to pull a delicious shudder from her, and he used her distraction to unclasp her bra and tug it free.

“Oi!” Rose rasped, her lips red and kiss swollen. “Cheater!”

“Can you blame me?” James asked with an impish grin.

“Incorrigible, you are.” But she was laughing and still undressing him, so James let his lips continue tasting and exploring his wife.

He squeaked and bit her neck in surprise when Rose popped the button of his trousers and immediately stuck her hand into his pants to stroke him.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to the teeth marks he’d left on her skin. “Surprised me, is all. Eager minx.”

“Glad I can still surprise you,” Rose said, slowly stroking him to full hardness within the confines of his pants.

“Oh, love, you surprise me every day,” he said, resting his hands on her hips as he rocked into her touch.

Rose continued teasing his erection as she one-handedly worked his trousers down his legs, and James helpfully stepped out of them.

“Leave it,” he said when she made to pick up the pile of clothes.

“They’ll wrinkle,” she protested.

“Nothing a good startching and ironing can’t fix,” he growled, tugging her firmly against him. “I’m in the middle of making love to my wife.”

“You’re in the middle of combusting your wife from sexual frustration,” Rose corrected, resting her hands on his shoulders for balance as she wrapped a thigh around his hips to grind herself into his erection.

He groaned deep in his throat and clutched at her hips to help them move as he dropped his mouth to the join of her neck and shoulder. He smirked against her skin as she shivered in his arms and dug her nails into his skin, moaning in pleasure.

“Let’s get in bed,” James suggested. His legs were shaking as he was consumed by his arousal and his need to be inside Rose. “Before I make a mess of my pants and our evening.”

“Oh, I know you better than that, James,” Rose purred, continuing to rub against him. “You’d be ready to go again in no time.”

A thrill of pride and self-satisfaction shot through him, but he still tapped her thigh to get her to drop her foot back to the floor.

“Be that as it may, I want to properly make love with you,” he said. “Please, Rose. I really want to be inside you.”

She sighed, and reluctantly stepped away from him to walk to their bed. Even through their pants, she’d worked herself into quite a state, and she was impatient for him to continue touching her. She slipped off her knickers as she saw James working the elastic of his boxers over his erection, and she playfully tossed them at James, giggling when they hit him square in the jaw.

“Nice aim,” he said dryly, crawling onto the bed with her. “Nine out of ten.”

“Only a nine?” she squawked.

“Mhm.” He pressed long, sucking kisses to her legs as he worked his way up her body. “Would’ve been a ten if you’d centered it around my nose.” He scraped his teeth across the soft skin of her inner thigh before laving his tongue across the seam of her hip and thigh. “You smell so good, love.”

Rose shuddered in desire as he pressed kisses to her labia before inhaling deeply. That once would have made her blush and squirm in embarrassment, but now it only made her wetter and desperate to feel him inside her.

“Get up here,” she croaked, sitting up so she could tug on his shoulders.

“Aww, do I have to?” he whined, but he dutifully kneeled between her legs.

“Yep. You’re being a bloody tease.”

She smacked him lightly when he hummed happily. How could he look so put together when she felt like she might implode if she didn’t get him inside her in the next two minutes.

“I wouldn’t look so pleased, love,” she warned.

She reached out and grabbed his erection, rubbing him in short, firm strokes she knew he loved while she also licked and sucked her way across his chest and around his nipples.

“Oh, Jesus,” he choked, shuddering bodily as Rose bit down hard on the skin at the side of his neck.

“No students to hide these from,” she mumbled into his skin just moments before she sucked hard enough for his eyes to roll back in his head from the overwhelming sensations she was making him feel.

He whimpered and as much as he wanted her to continue, he felt his tenuous grasp on his control slipping. He knew he could go a second round—and he intended to, if Rose was amenable—but he didn’t want to come to just her fingers.

“Bloody hell, Rose,” he gasped, prying her hand away from his cock. “Can-can we get to the main event? Please?”

Rose nodded and turned away from him to root around in her nightstand for the box of condoms she’d put there that afternoon. She crowed triumphantly and faced James once more, holding up a little foil packet.

“Can’t forget this. I wouldn’t mind having another baby with you, just not quite yet.”

James nodded in agreement and gestured down to his erection. “Care to do the honors, my love?”

Rose pursed her lips as her cheeks went pink, and she said, “Don’t make fun, James.”

He furrowed his brow, wondering what he’d said to embarrass Rose.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

“Never put on a condom before,” she mumbled. “You know that.”

“Well, it would be a little hard for you to wear one, I’ll admit,” he said breezily.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, and James grinned, pleased to see her embarrassed blush fade.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” he said, taking the condom from her. “You know you don’t have to be embarrassed about anything around me. If you don’t know something, just ask. I’ll never make fun of you for it. Especially this. I’m sorry, I truly didn’t realize you would have no idea how to use a condom.”

“Then how do you know how to use one?” she asked, biting her lip. “I mean… we’ve never used one before. Always relied on my birth control.”

“I’ve never used one with someone else, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said flatly, clenching his jaw.

“No, I know,” Rose assured, cursing herself when she realized how her question sounded. “I know you’ve only been with me. But that’s my point. We’ve never used one.”

James’s cheeks pinkened and he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Want to know a secret? I practiced putting one on in the few weeks prior to your eighteenth birthday.”

Rose stared at him for a moment, then giggled at the absurdity.

“Oi, you’re not supposed to laugh at me,” James growled, dropping the condom so he could tickle his fingers across her ribs.

“Sorry, that’s just so sweet,” Rose gasped as she suddenly got a mental picture of James fumbling around with a condom as he Googled how to wear one.

“Wanted to be prepared, is all,” he said, shrugging. “Right, ready to do this?”

“So romantic,” Rose snorted. “Let’s get you ready again.”

His erection had wilted slightly in the interim, and he sucked in a breath as she pushed on his shoulders and forced him to his back. She laved her tongue across his nipples, nipping at them as she covered his cock with her hand. She massaged him softly as she trailed her tongue across his chest, down his stomach, and to his hips.

“Oh, blimey,” he panted as she bit and sucked his hipbone until she left a bright red mark he knew would still be there the next day. He felt himself hardening beneath her palm, and he hummed in pleasure as she teased the tip of her tongue across the head of his cock. “I-I’m quite ready now.”

Rose hummed in acknowledgement, and she pressed a long, open-mouthed kiss to his cock before she sat back on her knees, grinning cheekily at him.

“Minx,” he rasped, sitting up. He fumbled around in the sheets, looking for the condom they’d dropped, and he crowed in triumph as he found it. “Right. Condom application 101. Ready?”

“Yes, Professor McCrimmon,” Rose said sweetly, biting her lip.

James’s hands shook as he ripped open the foil packet, and took out the condom.

“Hold onto the tip,” he said, swallowing thickly as Rose cupped his balls in her hand and rolled them gently. “Are you paying attention, Miss Tyler?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, snapping off a salute. “Just steadying your cock for you. Aren’t I being so helpful?”

“Extremely,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut as she continued playing with him. “Right. Keep hold of the tip, and place the condom on the head of the erect penis.”

Rose watched him settle the latex on his erection.

“Then smooth it down,” he instructed, still pinching the top of the condom as he stroked it down his erection.

“Need some help with that, sir?” Rose asked, bumping his hand out of the way so she could work the condom down to the base of his cock while giving him a few teasing squeezes as she did so.

“Oh, brilliant,” James sighed, rocking up into her fist. “And that’s it. Simple. Hope you were paying attention; this’ll be on the final exam.”

“Hmm, not sure I completely followed,” Rose murmured, straddling his hips so his erection settled against her lower belly. “Might need a few tutoring sessions. Some hands-on practice.”

“I think that can be arranged,” James mumbled, tugging her flush against him and moaning when he felt the heat of her radiating against him. “C-come to my office hours.”

James reclined on the pillows and reached over for the bottle of lube on his bedside table. He handed it to Rose and said, “Use as much as you need.”

Rose took the bottle from him and drizzled some lubricant down on him.

“I’m driving?” she asked, slowly rubbing his cock through her folds, enjoying the slippery feeling of him, even if she wished she could feel him skin to skin.

“Yep. Following your lead on this. If at any point you want to stop, just say so,” he sighed, rocking his hips against her, chasing her heat.

“Trust me, we’re not stopping,” she said, feeling her need for him growing exponentially as she ground down against him. “Ready?”

“Been ready all night,” he sighed, clutching her hips as she lined him up.

She sank down slowly on him, and he tensed his muscles to keep from thrusting up into her in one quick move. God, she felt so good. Her muscles gripped him tightly, squeezing him so deliciously in a way he hadn’t felt in three months.

“You feel good,” James gasped, tightening his grip on her hips.

“Do I? Really?” Rose asked, and James’s heart stuttered at the uncertainty in her voice.

He opened his eyes, and saw an odd expression on her face, but it most certainly wasn’t an expression of euphoric rapture.

“Everything okay?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs.

“It feels… different,” she said, tightening her muscles around him.

“Good different, or bad different?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Just… different.”

“Am I hurting you?” he asked worriedly, ready to lift her off of him, but he breathed out a thankful sigh when she shook her head. “Want to stop?”

She shook her head again, and James couldn’t help but feel relieved. If she’d said yes, of course he would’ve agreed and stopped, but he really, really wanted to make love with his wife.

“Go as slowly as you need to,” James encouraged when she rocked tentatively against him.

“I want this to be good for you,” Rose argued.

“It is,” he promised. “It always feels brilliant to be inside you. I want this to feel nice for you, too. Just… do what feels good. I’m just along for the ride.”

Rose snorted at him, but planted her hands on the bed on either side of his head as she started to really move.

James sighed in pleasure and his eyes rolled back at the hot, wet friction. Her breasts swung in front of his face, and he reached up and palmed them. They were much bigger than he was used to, and he enjoyed squishing them around in his hands and tugging at her nipples and…

“Shit, James, stop,” Rose said, sitting up just as liquid squirted into his palms. “I’m sorry. Shit.”

James glanced up at her, his hands soaked with milk as more of it dribbled out of her breasts as she helplessly sat on top of him.

He imagined they looked completely ridiculous, and the absurdity of the moment made him break out in peals of laughter.

“God, we’re a right mess,” he giggled, wiping his hands on the sheets.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, crossing her arms across her leaking chest.

“Hey, do you see me complaining?” he asked, reaching up to cradle her cheek in his palm. “It was my own fault, anyway. Keep forgetting those aren’t mine at the moment.”

Rose smiled wryly as swiped drops of breastmilk off of his chest.

“Now, if you’re all done trying to drown me in Ainsley’s breakfast, d’you think we can keep going?”

Rose rolled her eyes at her daft soulmate.

“Hands to yourself,” she warned as she once more moved against him.

“You sure about that?” James asked, ghosting his fingertips across her hips and down to her bum. “Are absolutely sure about that?”

He gave her arse a quick squeeze then dropped his hands to his sides.

“You nutter.”

“But your nutter,” James said happily. “And anyways, you said to keep my hands to myself. So… hands to myself…”

He raised his hands and tweaked his nipples and scratched at his chest hair. He moaned loudly and arched into his own touch, even though it didn’t feel nearly as good as it did when Rose touched him like that.

“My nutter indeed,” Rose mumbled fondly, recognizing his false and exaggerated moans. She reached down to tease her fingertips around his nipples. “Hands off the tits. Is that clearer for you?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, shivering as she scraped her nails across his chest.

He reached out and grabbed her arse again, squeezing and squishing her firm flesh in his hands.

After a few minutes of her grinding slowly down on top of him, he tentatively thrust his hips up against her as he tugged her hips closer to him.

Rose understood his request, and she braced herself with her hands on his chest as she started thrusting on him more quickly. His sighs and moans of pleasure began increasing in pitch and tempo, and the sounds made her own arousal roll to a boil low in her belly.

He started chanting her name pleadingly, as his eyes squeezed shut on their own volition, and the telltale furrow appeared between his brows. She tried to keep watching him, loving when she could see him tip over in pleasure, but she was so close to her own climax that she let her eyes flutter shut and let her pleasure consume her as she heard and felt James’s orgasm overtake him.

When she returned to awareness, she shakily lifted herself off of James and flopped down on the bed beside him.

He curled up against her instantly, and as he tried to wrap his arms around her, Rose murmured, “Take care of the condom first.”

He grumbled, and reached down between his legs and removed it before he tied a knot at the top of the latex and dropped it over the side of the bed.

“James,” she chastised, hearing the wet thud.

“I’ll get it in a minute,” he promised, finally wrapping her up in his arms. “Just let me hold you.”

Heat and love pulsed through her heart, and she couldn’t refuse. He was trembling beside her and still breathing heavily, and Rose had forgotten how much she missed these post-coital cuddles.

“That was fantastic,” she murmured, nuzzling her nose into his hair.

“So bloody fantastic,” he agreed, humming happily. “Good thing Dad took Ainsley. I think we’d’ve woken her up.”

“Guess we’ll have to practice staying quiet,” Rose mused.

“Guess so,” James agreed, pressing soft kisses to the swell of her breast. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, Rose Tyler-McCrimmon, I plan on making you scream again and again and again.”

oOoOo

The next morning, Rose frowned as she poked at her belly, the words the man in the restaurant had said echoing in the forefront of her mind. She still looked like she could be at least six months pregnant, and the skin was saggy and stretched, and she grimaced as she was able to gather up a handful of her stomach.

“All right there, love?” James asked, stepping out of the shower behind her.

The sated, goofy grin on his face made her feel marginally better, but she still felt a spike of self-consciousness. They’d made love quite enthusiastically last night and that morning, and James never once seemed to be bothered by her figure, but she knew that he would be too bloody nice to ever say anything about it.

“I’m flabby,” she muttered, looking back down at her stomach.

“You’re gorgeous,” he countered, stepping up behind her to look at her through their mirror.

“No, I’m not,” she scoffed. “Bloody hell. You must be incredibly horny if you’re at all turned on by me right now.”

“Hey, now,” he chastised. “That’s my wife you’re insulting.”

“Seriously, James. Look at me,” she said, taking her stomach in hand and rolling the loose flesh around in her fingers. “This is disgusting.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what that arsehole at the restaurant said last night, does it?” he demanded, frowning at her.

She felt her cheeks heat up and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

“He’s a wanker,” James said softly, covering her hands with hers where they rested on her belly. He smoothed his hands across her skin, encouraging her stomach to rest naturally. He stroked his fingers up and down her stomach, tracing her stretch marks as he went. “Listen to me, Rose. Your body has just done an amazing thing. It nourished and cradled our beautiful daughter for eight months. It had to grow and expand as she did. It’s only been seven weeks, love. It underwent eight months of changes; you can’t expect to look like you did before Ainsley overnight.”

“Yeah,” Rose mumbled, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and self-consciousness. She knew James would love her no matter what she looked like, but she still felt a little uncomfortable in her body that hadn’t been her own for the last nine months.

He nuzzled his lips against her neck and pressed kisses to her skin as he murmured, “And while I still think you are the most stunningly gorgeous woman in the universe, if it really bothers you so much, we can start an exercise regimen, if you want. I’ll do it with you. We can tone your tummy until you’re satisfied. Or if you don’t want to do it with me, I’ll be on baby duty so you can work on looking the way you want to look. Whatever you want.”

Rose sighed and nodded, and leaned back into his touch. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and careful cradled her stomach in his hands.

“I love you,” he whispered, sweeping his lips across her neck. “Saggy belly and all.”

He gave her stomach a playful pinch, and grinned at her when she elbowed him in the gut.

“Git,” she said, but James was pleased to hear the laughter in her voice. “Come on, I’m starved. And I still owe you an anniversary gift.”

James eagerly followed her into the kitchen and together they whipped up a full English breakfast.

Later, as they sat on the sofa with their empty breakfast dishes, Rose hopped up and disappeared down the hall to the home office. She returned a moment later with a wrapped box, and James took it from her with a thank you kiss.

He ripped off the paper to reveal a box with her company’s logo on it, and he excitedly opened the box, knowing some sort of art lay within.

He pulled out a long, rectangular picture frame that had two pictures side by side. The one on the left was a black and white photograph of him and Ainsley asleep on the sofa. Ainsley was naked save for her nappy and she was curled up on his bare chest, and his hands were cradling her tiny body as they slept.

The picture on the right was a fully-colored digital art rendering of the photo to the left. James marveled at the soft colors Rose used to make the photo come alive.

He ran a reverent eye over the photo and the portrait; the love behind each piece was so obvious, it made him ache.

“Oh, Rose,” he whispered, a lump of emotion lodging in his throat.

“Do you like it?” she asked, biting her lip.

James breathed out a disbelieving laugh, and he leaned forward to press a grateful kiss to her lips. How lucky was he to have such an artistic soulmate who could beautifully document every stage of their life, and their child’s life?

“I love it,” he whispered, continuing to press kisses to her lips. “I love it so much. I love you so much. I love our daughter so much.”

Rose grinned beneath his mouth and twined her fingers through his hair to deepen the kiss.

oOoOo

James grunted in her ear as he moved more quickly on top of her, chasing his release in sync with the countdown on their television. She’d come too quickly, much to James’s satisfaction, and he was now thrusting into her with abandon, focused on his own pleasure.

Rose loved being able to watch him like this. She was drowsy and sated from her own orgasm, and his movements felt so good inside her, sending delicious aftershocks of pleasure through her body. She worked on helping him lose himself in ecstasy by clenching her inner muscles as tight as she could as she held him closer, knowing he loved being surrounded by her.

His grunts turned more urgent and his hips stuttered, and it was all Rose could do not to laugh and break the mood as the countdown hit ‘four’.

“Come on, James,” she whispered in his ear, making her voice breathier for him.

She squeezed her thighs around his hips, dug her nails into his scalp, and nipped his earlobe, and that was enough to tip him over. He buried himself as deeply as he could go as shudders rippled through him before he arched his back and let out the most beautiful sounds of pleasure.

Rose held him through his release, gentling her touch on him even as she still squeezed him tightly from inside.

He flopped down on top of her, still letting out the occasional sighing moan.

“Lift your hips,” Rose murmured, stroking his hair away from his face. “Just for a second, I promise.”

He grumbled but dutifully pulled out of her so they could take care of the condom. Rose tugged it off of him and wrapped it in a few tissues before dropping it onto the floor, then she urged James back on top of her.

He nuzzled his face into her neck and sighed happily.

“Happy New Year, Rose,” he whispered, pressing lazy kisses across her skin.

“Happy New Year,” she replied, mindlessly running her fingers through his hair. “And guess what? You got it this year.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head to look at her, a daft grin on his face.

“Mhm. I think the countdown got to two just as you started.”

He hummed deep in his throat. For years they’d been trying to time their shagging so their orgasms would hit right when the countdown ended.

“Gonna have to work harder to get you to come on schedule next year,” he mused sleepily.

Rose snorted. “You worked too hard this year. I was finished a full minute before you were.”

He giggled proudly, and Rose felt her chest get warm and heavy with her love for him.

She pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, before nudging him off of her so they could clean up then get ready for bed. But just as they stood on still-shaky legs, the pop of fireworks began, far closer to the house than they were anticipating. The froze, and glanced at each other, then the baby monitor just moments before Ainsley let out a startled cry.

“I’ll get her,” James said, wiping himself clean with his discarded boxers. He slipped on a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt and made his way out of their room.

Rose used the loo and slipped into new knickers and one of James’s shirts just as her husband returned with their still-crying baby.

“Oh, shh, darling, you’re all right,” he soothed, bouncing slightly. “You’re all right. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you. Those fireworks are pretty scary, huh? And loud. But they’re so pretty and colorful. When you’re a bit older, we’ll take you to see some. But for now, let’s just have a cuddle in bed until they stop.”

A particularly loud boom echoed through the house, and James winced as he felt Ainsley flinch against him and let out a wail.

“Shh, I know,” he murmured, rocking her slightly as he pressed kisses to her hair. “But don’t you worry, darling. You’re completely safe. I’ll always do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

Rose joined her family in bed, then flicked off her bedside lamp. The only light came from the nightlight in the hallway and the occasional burst of color outside their window.

“Must be setting them off in the park,” James mused, moving so he was lying on his back with Ainsley on his chest.

Rose stroked her finger down the back of Ainsley’s hand, then tucked it into her palm. The baby clutched Rose’s finger tightly for a few minutes, before letting go to stuff her fist into her mouth.

“Want me to put her back in her crib?” Rose asked when she saw James’s eyes droop shut.

“Nah, she’s fine for now,” he replied, his eyes still closed. “Reckon fireworks will be going off throughout the night. At least for the next hour or so.”

“M’kay.”

Rose tugged up the sheets and draped them over James and Ainsley.

“Love you,” she mumbled, resting her head on his pillow to better cuddle with her family.

“Love you, too,” James murmured, turning his head to kiss her forehead. “And happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary, James.”

Eighteen years ago, her life had changed dramatically overnight when she’d been marked as soulmated. It was the best day of her life, knowing she had someone who was hers and hers alone, and that she was completely and utterly his. And now they had a little someone who was theirs.

She never knew she could love someone so much that it felt like she might burst apart because her body couldn’t possibly contain it all. That feeling grew and strengthened every day, and not just for Ainsley, but for James. She felt as though she fell in love with him all over again whenever he smiled at her, or made her a cup of tea just the way she liked it, or tucked a blanket around her when she got too immersed in her art to realize she was getting chilled.

There was no better feeling than being with her soulmate, and she was so pleased to find that despite having spent almost every day with him for the past six and a half years, she still wanted to spend all of her time with him. He made her feel so safe and loved and comfortable. They had made a home in each other, and now it had grown to encompass their daughter.

Rose sighed contentedly and let herself drift off to sleep, tucked in beside the two people she loved most in the world.

If you’re curious, these are the earrings James got for Rose.

[bluekrishna101]

Here, Here I Quake Ch61

A/N: Holy shit, I’ve been gone awhile. Lol. Sorry, all. Here’s the next chapter, if you still follow this silly thing that I keep meaning to dive back into. Enjoy! 

 Links to:  Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8,Ch9,Ch10,Ch11,Ch12,Ch13,Ch14,Ch15,Ch16,Ch17,Ch18,Ch19,Ch20,Ch21,Ch22, Ch23, Ch24, Ch25,Ch26,Ch27, Ch28, Ch29, Ch30, Ch31 Ch32, Ch33, Ch34,Ch35,Ch36,Ch37,Ch38,Ch39,Ch40,Ch41,Ch42,Ch43,Ch44,Ch45,Ch46,Ch47,Ch48,Ch49,Ch50, Ch51, Ch52, Ch53, Ch54, Ch55, Ch56, Ch57, Ch58, Ch59 

“—a wonder they didn’t throw me out! The hostess just stared at my … my exposure, then asked, calm as anything, whether we’d like a table or a booth!” Elgar’nan’s tale finishes with a arm-flailing flourish, and the elves all around burst into raucous laughter. 

Nearly choking on his mouthful of food,  June shakes his head as he points his fork at the old guitarist. Syllaise pats his back, chuckling.

Andruil, wry but smiling, says, “Most of us were there, El.”

“It’s still pretty funny, even the hundredth time he’s told it,” June manages, finally clearing his throat enough to speak.

Falon’din grunts. “It’s the delivery that makes it funny. Otherwise, it’s just El forgetting to wear pants. Again.”

“Well, I hadn’t heard it before,” says the only human at the table. Andruil’s private detective. She turns to Elgar’nan with a wide grin. “So, this happened pretty often, I take it?”

“Too often,” says the rest of the former bandmates in unison.

Elgar’nan sputters his drink and glares all around for a second before capitulating. “Fine! Yes, it happens. What’s wrong with a man enjoying the feel of the wind ‘round his nethers?”

Solas clears his throat. “Nothing at all. In the privacy of his own room. But I believe the old you would not have rested until all of Thedas had a good look at … your business.”

“Indeed. His … little guy was awake for more gigs than he was.” June laughs.

Falon’din contributes, “If I had a sov for every time his pixelated … hardware made the cover of the scandal sheets—”

“Cock!”—every eye in the restaurant swings toward their group—”Just say it,” Andruil growls, exasperated. “I swear, you men can be so squeamish when it comes to talk about dick.”

Ghilan’nain giggles. “As if you have more than a just passing acquaintance with dick, Andi.”

“Hush, darling,” she retorts, kissing Ghilan’nain on the tip of her nose. “One need not want to handle them to have an opinion. Or be an adult about the whole thing. They’re just cocks, you infants.” At this, the rest let out a burst of laughter. Andruil huffs and rolls her eyes. “Really.”

“Excuse me,” says the nervous host as he sidles up to the table. “I ask that you please keep it down. This is an upscale establishment, after all. A family establishment. The crude language and noise—”

A thundercloud gathers in Elgar’nan’s eyes. Solas steps in before it bursts into a deluge with a terse, “Our pardon. Bring us the check, please.”

“All together?” asks the shuffling human. His eyes and wringing hands say he wonders if the group of elves will suddenly disappear the moment his back is turned.

Pushing down the stab of anger in his gut, Solas pulls out his wallet and hands the host a jet-black credit card. White Spire’s jacquard logo glitters in the light of the low-hanging chandeliers over their table. Solas says, cold, “Just put it all on that.”

When the host scuttles off, the others look at Solas. June whistles. “Hear that, guys? Fen’s got it.”

“We could have pitched in,” admonishes Andruil. “It’s got to be at least six hundred sovereigns altogether.” Everyone else mutters similar sentiments.

“What’s an expense account for, if not to use?” asks he. Solas peers at them all, looking for signs of jealousy or bitterness. Then relief warms him as he finds nothing but simple worry that they’re taking advantage. How different this would have gone once upon a time.

Elgar’nan smiles. “I guess you got us there. Things must be going pretty good for Inquisition then?”

“Yes.” He returns the smile with one of his own.

“I’ll say!” Ghilan’nain exclaims, blue eyes glittering. She tosses her gold hair to one side, and leans forward. “They’re all the kids talks about. My store can’t keep the CD’s on the shelf, they move so quickly! Speaking of which, have you looked into streaming services, like Spotify, SoundCloud or Fadio—?”

“I, too, have questions,” June says. “Why now? Why them? How did you meet— ?”

Syllaise joins in, “Yes. Tell us all about your new band, Fen. Are they headed for the top?”

The rest chime in with a chorus of variations of, “Tell us!”

“I—” Solas starts, a little overwhelmed.

“I’ve met them,” Elgar’nan interrupts, puffing up a little under all the sudden attention that swings his way. “They’re good! That Ellana has a great voice, and she’s-she’s, like, grounded, you know?”

As they all turn their questions to Elgar’nan, Solas shoots him a grateful glance. The older elf grins and fields the flocking queries like a master.

“I think he just saved you a fair measure of aggravation,” says Andruil’s private investigator at his elbow.

“No doubt,” he agrees, turning to the human with a tip of his head. Then he asks, “I’m sorry. I never caught your name.”

“Elizabet Cousland. Betty, to my friends,” she says, sticking out her hand. “And you’re the Dread Wolf.” Her sudden lop-sided grin disarms the tickle of mocking razz right out of her tone. Not that her teasing bothers him at all. They’d chosen melodramatic stage names for a reason.

“Call me Solas, please.” He shakes her hand, then pauses. “Any relation to Teyrn Cousland?”

She nods. “To my father’s great chagrin, yeah. I’m his wayward daughter. Bringing shame onto the family is sorta my thing. My jam. My cuppa.”

“Who hasn’t disappointed a parent? But you don’t seem that bad,” Solas reasons. “From your attire, you’re well off. Successful. And Andruil told me many clients keep you on retainer, so you must be good at what you do.”

“Says the one it took the longest to find. Every time, I might add,” she says, as she mimes a playful poke. Pushing her brown hair over one rounded ear, Betty snorts. “I pride myself on being a good fisherman, but you were a very elusive fish. That’s what they should’ve called you. The ‘Elusive Fish.’ What’s that in elvhen?”

“Unflattering,” he shoots back, then chuckles as Betty lets out a single hearty guffaw.

“That’s as may be, but it’s more apt, possibly. And you? You don’t seem all that dread.”

“You didn’t know me before. Everything from my dress sense to my manners. Just dreadful.” He raises an impish brow.

“I don’t know,” she drawls. “Some of those outfits in the vids were … scandalous. Low, low, looow rise pants. Ha! And had they not yet invented the shirt back then?”

He chuckles. “It seemed the thing to do at the time. Sex sells and all that.”

“Yes, it does! A whole ton of records, from what I gather,” Betty cajoles, holding up her drink for a toast. He obliges her with a clink and a nod. Then she waves around and comments, “So what’s this then? Trying to recapture the lightning? Gettin’ the band back together?”

“No!” Solas blurts, taken aback. Others at the table glance towards his outburst and he can’t help but notice some have shifted in their seats to split their attention between regaling Elgar’nan and himself. Chagrin trickles over his nerves as he clears his throat to say in a more reasonable tone, “Not at all. We’re just catching up. I have my obligation to Inquisition, after all.”

“I’m just sayin’. All of you. In one place. Someone’s bound to notice, if they haven’t already. And those someones are gonna draw certain conclusions,” she says, waving a hand. Then she points suddenly, and Solas turns his head just in time to see a flash of light coming from a cell phone half-hidden in another patron’s hands. Betty chortles. “Six, by my reckoning. So far.”

Resisting the urge to slump into his seat, Solas growls, “Wonderful.”

Settling the tip, he stands. “Ladies, gentlemen, I bid you goodnight. I have a long flight in the morning—” He waves his hands in the midst of the chorus of groaning and booing flying his way.

“C’mon, Fen,” Elgar’nan wheedles, reminding Solas of why ‘getting the band back together’ would be folly at best. Insanity, at worst. The older elf continues, “We were gonna go to that club down the street.”

“The one with the neon legs above the door? No, thank you. I’m headed back to the hotel.” Solas turns away as the booing renews, waving one dismissive hand over his shoulder. “I’ll be better entertained diving into the Fade for some much needed rest.”

Another flash catches his attention. “Besides, I think I’ve done enough damage for one evening.”

Sitting in the midst of the stark, white landscape of the huge hotel bed, Solas winces at Madame Vivienne’s response to his text—

‘Get ahead of it, darling? Of course we’ll try, but you know as well as I how these things get blown out of proportion. Already we’ve had phone calls asking if Inquisition’s breaking up, and if we’re going to represent Evanuris for a big comeback. Really, my dear, I wish you would think of the consequences before acting.’

The digital clicking of his keyboard sounds in his ears as he picks out a reply, ‘I’ll own that. I should have insisted on private dining. Enough of blame, Madame. What can be done?’

Three dots flicker over and over next to Vivienne’s avatar, the White Spire logo. Then they disappear. And reappear. This happens a few more times before he types, ‘When you actually have a plan, call me.’

The dots disappear altogether this time. He imagines outrage on the other end and smiles. Then a new message pops up on his screen. This time from Morrigan. The sheer number of expletives deplete her word cap.

Solas feels a bit more guilt in this instance, for the former metal diva works very hard on their behalf. Still, insults are uncalled for. He shoots back a tart rejoinder and refers her to Vivienne.

Then more messages arrive in rapid succession. Leliana with civil, calm questions asking for clarification and his first-hand account. How many photographers did he notice? Were there any outside when he left? What was the name of the restaurant? And so forth.

Josephine texts, ‘Band meeting as soon as Cassandra returns. These issues need to be addressed as a group. Making the label nervous doesn’t do us any favors. We have tour dates lined up and it’s not fair to the fans who’ve already purchased tickets to make them think they’re suddenly going to be cancelled.’

‘I know. I apologize,’ he responds, heart heavy. ‘And I will apologize again when we meet en masse.’

Irascible Varric is the only one to actually call, gifting him with a saucy, “Hey, did you happen to snap one yourself or get the name of one of the guys who did? I’d pay a pretty penny for it! Picture the headline—Evanuris Returns! Three exclamation points. Or is that too many exclamation points?”

“Far too many, I’m sure,” he replies, with a weary hum of humor. Leave it to the dwarf to lift his spirits. Solas sinks into the cloud of blankets. “And not true, in any case. Evanuris is dead. They will never, ever return.”

“Never say never, Chuckles. Still, you got Inquisition. If Evanuris did re-form, they can always do it without you.” Varric’s confidence almost dispels the sudden, tiny pang in Solas’s chest.

Shaking it off, the elf says, “Truer words, Master Varric. I have my hands full.”

Varric laughs. “Speaking of Rosy, I haven’t spoken with her for weeks. How is she doing?”

“Elated to be near the end of her probation. Excited to be back on the road,” Solas answers, ignoring the rush of warmth in his cheeks. “I was about to call her, actually. See how she’s faring on her own.”

“What do you mean ‘on her own’?”

“Well, the band dispersed to take care of private matters before the tour. Out of town, most. Out of country, others. I admit to guilt at leaving her alone, but she insisted. Quipped about a vacation of her own, away from the band drama.” Solas laughs, thinking of the mischievous grin on her face when she’d said that.

“That funny girl of mine, eh? Well, I suppose I should let you call her then. I’m serious about those pics, Chuckles. Well, halfway serious. News is news, and my magazine could use the bump!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Wouldn’t that just irritate Vivienne to no end?

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Varric.” Solas smiles as the line clicks closed. Then he opens the Skype app, giving an eager tap on Ellana’s photo. The lyrical ‘bwoops’ cascade as they seek to summon the image of his love over the hundreds of miles separating them.

The call ends, uncompleted.

Frowning, Solas tries again. To no avail.

Four more times and nothing. Uneasiness blossoms into outright nerve-rending apprehension.

He attempts to contact her through social media and reaps nothing but more worry. Solas then tears through his phone directory, searching for someone who might still be in Kirkwall.

Anyone who can go check on Ellana—

“The P.O.,” he mutters, staring at the qunari’s number. Chewing his lip, Solas casts about for another option. Any other choice.

Taking a deep breath to steady shaking hands, he says to himself, harsh and decisive, “No, Ellana’s probably in the bath. Or-or left her phone in the fridge again. Everything’s probably fine. Her P.O. will find her. Safe. At home, during curfew. Like she hasn’t failed to be once.”

Squashing the sense of dread foreboding to make space for hope, Solas pecks at the Arishok’s number.

[theskelejournals]

Entry 50

Heh. Y’know, I hadn’t really thought about it cause I’ve been pleasantly occupied for a little while now, but it’s almost been two years since… well. The accident. It’s still hard to think about it, how it changed us, changed everything, but I guess that’s life. It goes on. Two years of confusion, fighting, working to regain myself, working through it all and just… moving past it. You don’t just get over something like that easily. And it hasn’t been easy. But I’ve had help. I have a lot of things, people, circumstances to thank for that. Yeah it’s still rough with that flower lurking around, but I don’t try and let him get me down too much. I just keep on being the laid back sentry I am and watching out for the strangeness.

Of course with Paps, Grillby and Q, and the lady behind the door, I’ve been able to keep myself afloat. There’s still moments where I hit a wall, when I sink, but then a hand reaches out to help. Whether I can physically grab that hand or not, there’s always someone there to make sure I don’t fall too far.

I couldn’t make it without you guys.

But beyond that deep stuff, let’s get to some of the more entertaining bits.

 It’s almost All Hallow’s Eve, and while Paps and I didn’t do anything spectacular for it last year, this year the Snowdin Inn is hosting a party. Papyrus told me he wanted to attend and dress up, and when asked about it, he told me he wanted a guard costume. No surprise there. Mulling over ideas, I laid something out for him.

“tell you what, bro,” I said while we were out shopping one day, “you wanna be a guard for all hallow’s eve?”

“Of course I do! I mean, I want to be one for real, but to be one for this is just as good! For now!”

“heh, right, so.” Looking up with a grin, I tilted my head a little. “howzabout you design me a guard costume, and i’ll make it for you?”

Papyrus stopped mid stride in the isle, brows raising and jaw dropping.

“Really? You’ll make me a costume?”

“yeah sure, figure it’ll be fun.” Snickering, I added, “builds character, y’know. helps craft my engineering skills.”

For once, Paps was too excited about the prospect to fully hear the puns.

“Wowie! Yes brother, please! Oh, that’d be the coolest!”

So when we got home, Papyrus immediately rushed off to grab some paper and pens. It took him a few tries, but eventually he drew up a rough sketch of what he wanted.

“Behold, Sans! The Battle Body of the Great Papyrus!”

It was a pretty simple design in concept, and after looking it over, I took some of the paper he had left and sketched out my own in the style of blueprints. Papyrus watched intently as I went, planning out how to make it.

“Oh, oh! Could you make it as if I were actually going to use it? As a real guard? I want it to be authentic!”

“heh, sure thing.” With a chuckle, I made notes of what type of material to use, and once I had everything laid out, I turned the paper to show him.

“I… can’t understand most of that,” he mumbled with a furrowed brow. Grinning, I pat his shoulder and shook my head.

“that’s fine bro, i can draw all the conclusions i need on my own.” He made a grumbled noise in response, to which I snickered. I took his measurements and wrote those down too to make sure I had everything I needed besides the materials actually needed to make the gettup. After that, the next day was used to gather the supplies for the build. I got hard but flexible material, stuff I knew would protect him if he ever got in a brawl of any type. Kinda had a double meaning: authentic for him and extra protection to ease my mind. Despite that, I’ll be completely honest, I was actually excited to make the costume for him. I hadn’t built anything since my post out in the forest -- if you exclude puzzles -- and I was looking forward to working on something. Besides, I knew it would make Papyrus happy.

After getting everything I needed, I set up shop down in my lab to begin. Galahad kept watch as he always did down there, his own gaze ever curious as I worked. Papyrus would come down a lot to try and see how far I’d gotten, excited for it to be done and giving his own input. I think a part of him was a little worried about me being alone in my lab again after so long too, but I can’t blame him for that. I didn’t spend nearly as long down there as I did during the machine stuff, but I could understand his worry. When he was down there though, I’d use that opportunity to retake his measurements and fit the pieces around him to make sure everything lined up.

Progress took about a week, and when it was finally done, I gathered all the pieces with blue magic and carted them into the house. As a kicker, I put my old lab coat and a pair of reading glasses that were my brother’s on before heading inside. Paps was downstairs when I was tugging the pieces through the door, and his excited gasp made me look up with a grin.

“up to your room, bro,” I told him. “time to try it out.”

His excited laughter rang through the house as he jogged upstairs, making me grin that much wider. After bringing it all up, I set the pieces down and had Paps open his closet so we could use the full body mirror behind it.

Despite his excitement, Papyrus made sure to attach everything just right and carefully. I lended a hand whenever needed which wasn’t often, just a clasp or two, before he turned around and beheld himself in the mirror.

Watching him stare at his reflection in wonder was probably one of the most fulfilling things. The fact that I could make my brother happy like that made so many things worth it. Those books from long ago came in handy after all.

“Sans! This is exactly what I wanted!” Laughing in triumph, Papyrus danced happily in his spot, grinning away in glee. He spun around several times to get a look at every angle, utterly pleased with the results. “Oh brother, thank you! It is truly an outfit worthy of the Great Papyrus!”

“heh, only the best for the best, am i right?”

“Absolutely!”

As I watched him, a thought struck me and I tilted my head. The outfit looked good on him, but… something else could be added.

“y’know… i think i have something that’ll make you look even cooler.” Papyrus looked at me with curious excitement.

“I am already pretty great looking, but the Great Papyrus will always take suggestions!”

Smirking, I nodded and started heading toward the door.

“heh. one sec.”

Teleporting midstep, I reappeared in my room and looked around. Spotting what I wanted, I headed for my desk and ran a hand slowly over the folded red scarf by the journal. It was something I’d had for as long as I could remember. The sentimental value of it was deep, and I knew that it had been something important. Gaster said that it was one of the very first things I’d ever touched.

Smiling gently, I took a breath and picked it up to hold it close. Leaving my room, I went back down the hall to Paps’ room and found him still looking at the armor in the mirror. With a chuckle, I came to his side and held the bundled cloth up.

“here bro, use this.”

Blinking, Papyrus turned to look and he paused. His brows rose, looking between me and the scarf, reaching a tentative hand to run over it like I had done nearly a minute before.

“Your scarf! Sans… Are you sure?”

“yeah. just be sure to take good care of it,” grinning, I added, “knot that i didn’t think you would.” Pap groaned, slumping.

“Enouuuugh.” Straightening back up, he took the scarf gently and carefully held it in his mitts, raising a brow and tilting his head. There was a spark of recognition in his eye, one he didn’t look like he could place. But I knew what it was. That scarf had belonged to Gaster, and his father, and then dad gave it to me. Now, in this unspoken movement, I was passing it on to Pap. Continuing the tradition, I guess you could say. I’d worn it many times, but I guess it never really caught Paps’ attention enough for him to ask or notice. Until now, anyways.

Smiling gently, he looked up and gained an appreciative grin.

“I’ll wear this with pride, worry you not, brother!”

Kneeling down, he handed it back over and tilted his chin up. Understanding hit me and I nodded with a chuckle, shifting to wind it carefully around his neck and tucking it.

“there you go, bro. as sharp and fierce as ever.”

“Nyeh-heh! Wonderful!” Standing up tall, he looked in the mirror and his eyes lit up with his grin. “Wowie! Looks Sans! It really brings it together!” Tucking my hands in my pockets, I nodded with a grin.

“sure does, bro. you look like a true royal guard now.”

Gasping softly, Papyrus looked over with an excited grin.

“Really? You think so?” Clearing his throat, he turned back to the mirror and pulled a dramatic pose. “I mean! Of course I do! I am the Great Papyrus, the best, most Royalist of Guards!”

Snickering, I shook my head in amusement at his antics. He really was something else. In that moment, Pap reached and laid a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, he was grinning happily still, a light in his eyes that made me pause.

“Sans… thank you. For all of this. It means a lot to me.”

Grinning softly back, I shrugged.

“it’s my job, bro. to make sure you’re happy and taken care of.” Grinning a little wider, I said, “out of the other two jobs i got, this is the best one.”

“I mean it, I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate having you as my brother,” Papyrus said, kneeling back down so we were equal height. “I tease at you all the time about being lazy but…”

“aw paps,” I chuckled, “i know you don’t really mean it.”

“Ok but see you are lazy sometimes,” Pap countered, making a face, but it quickly smoothed back out. “But really. For all you do, thank you.”

“it’s nothin’.” Shrugging, I reached forward and gave his head a pat, much like Grillby tended to do. “but i gotta say, thank you for keeping me in line. you’re the greatest brother around.”

“Nyeh! It’s my job!” Winking at the repeated words, he pulled me into a tight hug. Huffing, I laughed and hugged him back as he continued, “I may be the greatest, but you’re the best! Never forget it!”

“heh, i won’t paps.”

“Good because if you do, I’ll be right here to remind your lazy self.” Patting my back, he let go and looked in the mirror one more time excitedly. I let him have the moment, and in that same moment I smiled to myself. Thanking whatever presence was out there that I had a brother as cool and understanding as Papyrus. Heh. Thanks to you too, Dadster.

“so…” Clearing my throat, I raised a brow with a slightly teasing grin up at him. “you gonna wear that the rest of the day now? cause uh, the party ain’t until this weekend.”

Blinking, Papyrus turned to look at me and then back in the mirror with crossed arms.

“Indeed I am! I can’t let a costume this exquisite just sit and wait to be worn once! I have to break it in. It must get the appreciation it deserves.”

Snickering softly, I leaned against the computer desk and rest a cheek in my hand.

“whatever you say, bro.”

“It is what I say! Now, let’s find you something to wear too.”

Shaking my head, I let out a laugh.

“nah, i already know what i’m gonna wear. wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess.”

His face falling into an unimpressed expression, Paps puts his hands on his hips as he stared me down.

“Are you really just going to put your lab coat on and call that a costume?”

“pretty much yeah.”

“You are ridiculous, brother,” he sighed, running a hand over his forehead.

“hey, it’s a costume,” I chuckled, “i don’t work there anymore, so it, y’know, works.”

“You could at least be a little creative with it!”

“well i am wearing glasses. it’s a spectac-ular addition.”

Turning the look to me again slowly, he leaned forward a little bit and squinted.

“So glasses and a lab coat.”

“yep.”

“And nothing else.”

“yep.”

Groaning, Papyrus threw his hands up and turned to face the mirror again.

“How do I put up with you?”

“pretty easily i’m sure, i don’t weigh that much.”

“OKAY I’M LEAVING,” he exclaimed, hands in the air again, marching toward the door. I started cracking up, burying my face in my arms. Going from a meaningful moment to banter in zero seconds flat.

“leaving your own room?”

“Yes! Leaving! Gone! Bye brother!”

Paps was out the door in seconds and I was laughing too hard to stop him. He wasn’t actually mad, but oh man that was too priceless. I eventually followed him out, shedding my coat and the glasses shortly after. Paps started talking to me again not long after that too, then we sank into laughter as we picked fun at one another. Right back to normal. Heh, as if the banter wasn’t. It was TV the rest of the night, Pap dancing around in his costume randomly to show it off even though I’d made it, and then a story to put him to sleep.

I’ll be the first to admit that my life is a little crazy, but then there’s times like these that I’m also reminded that it can be pretty cool. For once, I’m really starting to look forward to things again. It’s been building a little over time, and while hope can be dangerous in my situation, I can’t help but let it try to come back. Sure I’ve got a human-based promise to keep for my friend, a lunatic flower to watch out for, and a shadow that’s my dad that I can one-sidedly talk to from time to time but… y’know.

Life’s funny like that.

I’ve also got two jobs, a brother to watch out for, friends and family close by when I need them, and with that a support system. It can be sketchy -- thanks Flowey -- but again, that’s also life. Despite it all, the past few months, things have been looking pretty good. I can’t help feeling like… something's gonna happen soon, but what… I can’t even begin to think of. I’m just gonna hold out that it’s something good. All you can do, am I right?

I just know that, right now… yeah. Things are okay. I’m okay.

And that’s all I can ask for. - Sans

[ecotone99]

[HR] [HM] Angel 3-1-0-4: Assignment to Hell!

​

On the day of the interview I was terrified. I wondered why God had given me the assignment. But I was a pretty low-ranking angel. There were thousands of wings ahead of mine, and much stronger I thought. I am a wimpy nobody angel. Maybe that was the point. So I didn’t ask questions. I just wrote down the address and went looking for the fallen one.

There are many paths to Hell. I decided to go incognito and pose as a human. It didn’t matter which really. Satan took in all offenders signing on the dotted line. So I went to Vegas. He found me. He took me to the underground penthouse. I had a sensation that I was being lured to a place I may not survive. The darkness was a magnet that made you believe their was no way back to the light. I was terrified.

The first thing he wanted to do was show off his souls. He called them his prizes.

His greatest prizes, he kept in a 24 karat gold egg. “These are my babies,” he beguiled. I cursed God for this goddamn assignment. I wanted him to hear me and put me out of my misery. Jesus Christ! Why the Devil? No, I thought. I must keep a sense of humor about it. Levity, angel number 3, 104, levity. Maybe I should try and have some fun with this old bastard. Finally, I asked. “Your golden egg, who’s in it?” “Ooooh.” he said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I better not be so obvious, I thought.

“But they are political,” I said.

“Some.” He replied, “I have leaders of men and a few extraordinary little Iagos!”

I could hear the souls bumping off each other in the egg, like steel pellets against the gold, making pinging sounds. The Devil meanwhile was holding it like a toddler hugs a teddy bear. Very weird. I began to take the opinion that I was speaking to a mental case. Maybe he had PTSD after the whole dropping out of heaven debacle. But I’m not a social worker. I’m just an angel with a pen, posing as a human. May I use my ego, arrogance, and stubbornness to do good rather than evil. Amen.

The Devil finally put down the egg and looked me up and down, like a hyena measuring its prey. His eyes were aglow with suspicion. I was weighted to my seat. I started to sweat. Finally he inquired, “Do you own a gun Mr. ? …I don’t remember you giving me a name?” Shit! I never thought of a name! I’m the shittiest angel-spy God ever created. Fuck it! I’ll play along!

“Angel,” I said. His eyes got small and squinty.

“Ah.” He said distractedly, “Angel”. Hide in plain sight, I thought. “Now, now, he said, “Enough of these games friend.” He walked around me stealthily and put his hot hands on my shoulders, “Who sent you?” The room was absolutely silent, except for one, extremely irritating, high-pitched note.

“You know who,” I said. He began to laugh.

“The old man keeps trying doesn’t he?”

“Yes, “I said, I guess he does. “ He goes on,

“Such a waste of strategic talent,” he said, looking out the window with his hands clasped behind him.

“I disagree,” I said.

“You! Angel number 3-1-0-4! Who the hell cares what you think!” He paused and grinned. “Yes. I knew who you were before you came in. He told me you were coming.” God is sure playing fast and hard with my chips, I thought. Talk about leaving an angel out to dry. Maybe I should join that new Martyrs Without Sacrifice union. Its very popular amongst us lower-angels. And with very good reason; none of us want to die again.

He peered peculiarly at me as if reading my thoughts. “You poor fool”, he said, “Ratted out by your own boss. He doesn’t seem very trustworthy to me. Perhaps you should entertain notions of a more palatable nature.” I was insulted.

“I don’t lead with my palate sir,” I said.

“Aren’t you a clever little word player!” He said. “What if I sent you down to earth.

To the wolves who know no other god but me! Do you believe your words can save you. They can’t. Words are commodities too now! Aren’t they?” I wasn’t sure how to reply to this. It was a good point, words becoming commodities. That’s been true from the beginning though, hasn’t it?. Finally I replied, “It depends on who’s holding the pen.”

“Humph.” Was his disgruntled reply. “You answer by the book,” he said.

“You manipulate by the letter,” I replied. And then dinner was served. A clear indicator that our discussion was about to continue. Not that I ever had any choice in the matter.

He seemed to cool a bit towards me. Suddenly he began to sound like a friend. Now I was really scared. “You know,” he said, “I’ve bumped elbows with many such as yourself, wanting to do good in the world, and all that eternally hopeful nonsense. But they always get tired, riddled with an unnecessary anxiousness and paranoia. Either they fall into my hands eventually, or I send in the doctors. I have all the time in the world, all the power, angel 3-1-0-4. Inmate of faith. How silly and ridiculous you are. You haven’t a chance in Hell!” He was trying to play me. My anger overtook me and I suddenly went insane. I lost all fear.

”NO!” I said, “You are the ridiculous one! You are setting up proving grounds all over the world. I have nothing to prove. I am stronger in that regard.” I found my sanity again when his eyes turned into glassy black orbs, directed at me homicidally. “You are running out of lives angel 3-1-0-4!” I answered calmly, How many do I have left?

“One! Rat!”

My next move would have to be carefully calculated if I was to do any good at all. But I needed a recess. What could I say to get it? “Sir?” I asked, Do you think I may be outmatched here?”

“Certainly you are outmatched. I am a god!”

“Do you always fix things to your advantage?”

“Always.” I prepared myself for a statement that was sure to illicit rage.

“Well, then perhaps you’re more of a cheater than a winner.” He turned his head with purpose, and glared. Then he launched himself at me. He put my throat in a vise, he whispered slowly into my ear, “You don’t want to f**k with me angel 3-1-0-4!” He let go slowly and got off me. He adjusted himself and finally said. “One day. One day.”

I was to stay in the guest suite. Luckily there were books. I would read a bit to get the devil off my mind. The lighting was excellent. There was a bath robe hanging on the bathroom door, inscribed in delicately woven red stitching; You, it said. I thought it was a little obvious, only to discover two more boxes of them in the closet. He’d apparently bought in bulk. I wondered who else had stayed here? It looked like it may have been redecorated numerous times. But this latest concoction was obviously designed by an interior decorator who’s only direction was, “gold, lots and lots of gold”. I found it tacky, but then who am I to think that I could afford an opinion. Angel 3-1-0-4, you are certainly in the shit now!

There I was in the guestroom of hell, reading Wuthering Heights. It seemed appropriate. Times are getting too dark, I pondered, turning off the 24-karat lamp. The light bulb burned out with singeing flare. Just as I thought, all wealth and no function.

I lay in bed trying to sleep. I saw something glide from the darkness. It was a little boy. He stepped into the moonlight. “Will you play with me?” he asked dejectedly. Glued to the bed, wondering if this was another of my host’s tricks, I finally said, “Ok.” He took out some toy cars and we bashed them together making loud crashing noises. He laughed and laughed. Then a loud whistle was heard, in a very commanding tone. “I have to go.“ he said. Then a look of vacant despair came over his face, as if his insides were dead. He held on to me in desperation, “Daddy doesn’t like to play unless he wins. Daddy never lets me play for fun. He pushes and pokes me and makes fun of me. He never leaves me alone. Daddy is scary. He looks like a wolf on the hunt. It makes me very nervous. Daddy says I’m next in line. I told him I didn’t want to be next in line. But he said it was my den-stiny. He gets angry and viscous if I don’t obey, like a monster. One time he called me a loser because I didn’t blow out all the birthday candles at once. He said all the other boys knew how to do it and I better get my act together if I wanted to succeed in this high-powered bizz-nezz world. But I just wanted some birthday cake. He’s always trying to show off in front of people. And then he tries to show me off. But I’m only five. Daddy always wins. One day though I will beat daddy so bad, that when the world hears daddy’s name, they will only think of me! Three cheers for the Mighty Conqueror! Everyone will bow down!”

His face went vacant again. He let go of my hand and walked backward toward the tall golden doors. Before he shut them, he turned and said vacantly, “Daddy always finds me you know. I always feel him beating inside!”

I shuddered for fifteen minutes straight. There was no way I could sleep now. Was it a child or a demon? Its eyes were so resigned to its darker fate, with not a sliver of light left. What had just passed? An apparition in chains, diabolical of mind? No rest is granted to this soul, I thought, and neither to the world he occupies.

The devil was in a chipper mood at breakfast. “1,347 souls since dawn,” he chuckled, “Its all too easy.”

“You keep track?”

“I always keep track of my trophies,” he said, resentfully.

“You have many.” I said.

“Many, many, many. From every background, all over the world!

“You are not brave enough without them?” I asked. He answered in his best demonic

tone, “I am the MASTER of the world.”

“Then why do you still need trophies?”

“Why do you still need air!”

“Is it that necessary to you?

“It is me.”

There was a long silence, as the last thought hung heavily in the air, begging a proper moment of consideration. “Who was the boy?” I finally asked. His eyes became fierce and suspicious, “A boy who should have done what he was told!” “Who is he?” I curiously asked. And then, horrifyingly, the devil was honest. “He is a split soul, damned into a doomed childhood. I recruited him when he was at his lowest, easily. He agreed to use all his vengeance knowingly, for my cause alone. I bought his soul and replaced it with a badger.”

“And the child?” I asked

“Sometimes the child gets out, but I keep him on the run.”

“I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard,” I said.

“Yes, Exactamundo, feel sorry! That’s what works! That’s what draws you into the web!”

“Not me.” I said

He lifted his head and laughed. “You played with him didn’t you?” He had me there. “Don’t feel insulted. The whole world played with him, and now hypocritically feigns shock at his rise! I called them all out by raising the greatest symbol of their money worship. Funnily enough, I didn’t have to work very hard to sway them towards absolute greed. There was no sport in it! Now they complain. They should have sought to save their own cheap souls, before digging their own graves. I am just a messenger.”

And then, just like that, I bored him.

“Well, angel 3-1-0-4, anything else?”

“No,” I said, “I have enough.”

“What will you do now?”

“I’m going to stay human for awhile.

“Good luck!”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Any-time!”

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