#some other volunteers were clearly celebrating and left early right on

[onioneyez]

Happy 420!

I didn’t want to actually have to pick up the leech or the crane fly larva to pretend to smoke it so please use your imagination

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

[ernmark]

One Possible Read of The Green Knight

I say one possible, because this is the story as I understood it as I was watching the film. When I mentioned it to my partner, he didn't take that away. I'm not saying my take on it is right or wrong (I think it's hard to say that about most reads for a movie like this), but I submit it for your consideration.

(Spoilers and a fairly thorough plot summary under the cut)

(Holy moly this got long)

A brief caveat:

Caveat the First: I'm basing this off a pre-existing understanding of medieval stories, which don't necessarily follow the same narrative structures as modern ones. The world they lived in was weird, so sometimes weird shit just happened for no reason, often very conveniently. (If anything, I think this movie did less of that than existed in typical medieval stories.) They also heavily relied on archetypes rather than distinct characters with backstories, as well as a pre-established understanding of the story you're listening to. Like the puppet show that shows up in the story, the kids in the audience had already heard the story enough times that they could follow it without any actual words. On that note, I've also read a version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Caveat the Second: I immediately distrust anybody who talks about any story older than three centuries or so having an "original" version. There are some stories that have distinct authors, but often these stories were retold and rewritten to suit the tastes of their latest audience. So I refer to the version I read, not "the original". I take my reading of that story into my interpretation of what I saw. I'll note the details from the version I read where it's relevant.

The Story

We start with Gawain, King Arthur's nephew, waking up in a brothel with his sex worker lady friend. She sends him on his way back home to Camelot where his mother greets him and kindly asks him where he's been all night. Oh, off at Christmas Mass, naturally, is what he tells her. She counters that clearly he's been drinking all the communion wine, because she can smell it on his breath.

She tells him she's not feeling well, so he should go to the Christmas celebration without her and tell her all about it afterward.

[I don't recall hearing her name in the movie, but in the version I read, the Green Knight is sent by Morgana. Between his mother being described in dialogue as Arthur's sister and a known witch, I'm gonna run with that assumption and call her that.]

This is where my reading diverges: I take all of this as being almost entirely Morgana's story. And from her perspective, it's kind of hilarious. Because this isn't the story of Gawain's journey into Manhood, but of a very frustrated mother's attempts to save her beloved (if disappointing) son.

While Gawain is partying with the sickly King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, Morgana joins three of her fellow witches and they enact a spell, summoning the Green Knight and a very specifically worded challenge. The Green Knight presents a game: any one person in attendance may injure him and get his badass axe as a prize, but in a year exactly he'll have to go to the Green Knight's chapel and allow the Green Knight to return the exact same blow to him.

Arthur says he wants to do it, but acknowledges he's too sickly to do so. Gawain, already embarrassed once at this party, jumps up and volunteers to be his champion. And when he steps into the ring with the Green Knight, he cuts off his opponent's head. He'd think that was the end of it, but the Green Knight just picks up his severed head, reminds him of the deal to bring the axe back and let himself get beheaded in a year, and leaves.

[In the version I read, this was a ploy on Morgana's part just to freak out Guinevere. Seriously, that was the entirety of it. Just fucking with her rival/sister-in-law.]

In the movie, I got the vibe that Gawain was never meant to be in the line of fire. I suspect that either Arthur or one of his knights was meant to be the Green Knight's opponent, who would die after a year to get his affairs in order. Given that Gawain was Arthur's next-of-kin, that would have given him plenty of time to pass the crown to Morgana's beloved son. Unfortunately, Gawain stepping up messed up her whole plan.

During the intervening year, we see Morgana and the other witches working together to weave the Girdle of Invulnerability. As the name suggests, it's laden with magic to protect him from all harm and all blows from anyone. So long as he wears it, she explains, he'll make it home in one piece.

[In the version I read, the girdle is given to him by another woman later on at a weirdly convenient time. More on that later.]

Gawain barely makes it out when he asks directions from a young man looting the corpses on a recent battlefield. Being the idiot that he is, Gawain takes the young man's directions straight into a trap, where the young man and several other bandits are lying in wait. Despite his mother's assurances that he's invulnerable, he stands down immediately, allowing the bandits to take the Green Knight's axe, his Magic Girdle, all his money, all his supplies, etc.

During all this, three things happen: first, we see A Fox. Second, when the bandit takes the axe he goes all weird and runs off on the horse, forcing the other bandits to chase after him and leaving Gawain unobserved. Third, we get a weird vision of the future where Gawain remains where he is, tied up, until he rots away and he's left nothing but a skeleton.

My read is that The Fox is either Morgana or one of the other witches shapeshifted to keep an eye on him (alternatively, the fox is Reynard or a similar magical creature employed by them for the same purpose.) The Fox then enchants the bandit into running off with the Girdle and the Axe, leaving Gawain relatively safe. And when he fails to do anything with this spectacular opportunity, the Fox gives him the vision of what's gonna happen to him if he just waits around to be rescued.

Prompted to action, Gawain manages to free himself and continues his quest on foot. Eventually he comes across an abandoned manor. Inside, he meets a ghost who asks him to retrieve her severed head, which was thrown into the nearby spring. After some hemming and hawing, he does. When he returns to the surface with the woman's skull, the ghost is gone, but the Fox is watching him.

My take is that the ghost disappeared. They do that. The Fox, being sent to watch him, saw him actually step up and do a brave and selfless thing for once. This is what cements to the Fox that Gawain isn't a perennial fuckup, he's able to grow and mature if he's given the chance.

Gawain returns the skull to the rest of the ghost's skeleton, and he's rewarded by regaining his lost axe. (The axe placed there by the Fox, who took it from the enchanted bandit.)

So this is great, right? Gawain's fuck-upery has been cured and he's doing the responsible thing. Yay, right?

Except he's a fuckup who spends more time drinking and hanging out in brothels than doing Knightly stuff, so he doesn't know basics. Like how to start a fire or get food. Offscreen, Morgana must have been bashing her head into a wall, because her beloved son is going to get himself killed.

The Fox appears to him, and after his initial attempt to drive it off, Gawain lets it stay with him. From this point forward it stays by his side, not-so-subtly giving him directions and keeping him generally safe.

Later we meet some giants, because sometimes there are just giants. We don't question these things in Arthurian fantasy. Gawain asks them to give him a ride to his destination, but when one agrees to help him, he freaks out at the last second and refuses. The Fox speaks to the giant, quite possibly apologizing for its very rude human friend, and the giants go on their way without him.

Gawain is most of the way there by now, but it's late December in Wales, he's super cold and hasn't eaten anything but trippy mushrooms, he can't build a fire, he's been walking for days. He collapses, but the Fox urges him to go a little further and leads him to another manor house. Fortunately for him, this manor has living people in it, who clean him up, put him in a warm bed, and give him food.

We get a dreamy scene where he's being tended by his mother before he wakes up in the care of the manor. My read on it was that this manor and the people in it were sent directly by Morgana to save him. I don't think the manor was even there ten seconds before he collapsed the first time. Because Morgana loves her son, but he is REALLY bad at this.

Notably, it seems that the only people here are the Lord and Lady of the manor, as well as a blind old woman who seems to be the lady's maidservant and/or mother? Hard to tell.

Some flirting happens between Gawain and the Lord and Lady. The Lord of the manor explains that conveniently, Gawain's destination is only one day's walk away and he's several days early, so why not take some time to rest and gather his strength. The Lady shows off her library and her fancy daguerreotype-like mechanism, etc. The Lord suggests another game (mirroring the game presented by the Green Knight) : the Lord will go hunting the next day and give Gawain whatever he catches. Gawain will in return give the Lord whatever he gains throughout the day.

[In the version I read, this happens over the course of three days. Each day the Lord leaves, the Lady tries to seduce Gawain but he refuses, only accepting a kiss from her on the first two days; when the Lord returns with a hunted animal each day, Gawain gives him the kiss that the Lady gave him. On the third day, the Lady also gives Gawain a previously-unmentioned enchanted Girdle of Invincibility, which he neglects to pass along to the Lord, opting just to kiss him instead.]

In the movie, this is condensed into only one day. Gawain wakes up with the Lady creepily watching him sleep, wearing the Girdle of Invincibility that Morgana made for him. She invites him into bed and offers him the Girdle, reminding him that it can render him invincible. The scene gets a bit weird after that-- sex acts of some sort ensue, and the Lady walks away, leaving Gawain with post-coital shame and the Girdle.

Upset, Gawain grabs his stuff and makes to leave. Along the way he runs into the Lord in the middle of his hunt, and he declares that he's going to meet the Green Knight a day early. Citing their game, the Lord presents Gawain with The Fox (who is alive despite having been caught by a hunter, hmmm) and requests Gawain's "winnings" in return-- which he claims by stealing a kiss. I dunno about you, but it seemed to me that Gawain was Into It, at least before he remembers to be freaked out and runs off.

He's nearly at the place where he's to meet the Green Knight when the fox stops him. Now it starts talking, its voice shifting from masculine to feminine. It tells him that he's done a great job, and he can turn back right now and go home and nobody will know but the two of them. He doesn't have to go through with this. But Gawain, determined to fulfil his quest, drives the Fox off once again and goes the last bit alone.

Here he meets the Green Knight in the ruins of an old chapel, though because he's early the Green Knight is little more than a statue, awake but unmoving until the appointed Christmas Day. All the while Gawain just has to sit there and stew in the knowledge that he's gonna die. Finally the Green Knight stirs, asks Gawain if he's ready to die, and readies the axe that Gawain returned to him.

Throughout this, the light hits the Green Knight differently, making him look an awful lot like the Lord of the manor. After Gawain flinches away from the axe the first time, he speaks gently to him, almost tenderly.

[In the version I read, the Green Knight and the Lord of the manor are the same person, and the Lord/Knight is aware of Gawain's magic Girdle, because this was all an elaborate ruse. Because of Gawain's invincibility, the Green Knight only scratches his neck, permanently scarring him as punishment for lying about it and cheating in both their games, but doesn't hold it against him. Gawain then returns to Camelot and they keep the Girdle at the round table as a symbol that all of them have their failings.]

In the movie, Gawain flinches one more time. We then get a second very lengthy vision of an alternate future: Gawain flees the Green Knight and returns home, where he's welcomed back without external consequences. However, he's haunted by his own cowardice, giving up a difficult love in favor of living up to expectation, only to lose everything in the end anyway. His life following the cowardly route was longer, but it wasn't a better life.

He stops the Green Knight one last time, only to remove the Girdle and set it aside before declaring himself ready. The Green Knight is genuinely pleased by this, and he leans in and simply traces a finger over Gawain's throat, before happily saying. "Off with your head."

The movie ends there. Whether the Green Knight leaves him alive or kills him is up for interpretation. But even if the Green Knight wasn't on Morgana's payroll, I feel like he's way too fond of Gawain to do him real harm at this point.

And so Gawain has grown up-- he's brave, he's honorable, he's learned to keep his word and face the consequences of his actions. And Morgana, after some major struggles and a lot of called-in favors, has managed to keep her son from dying on his quest. Victory all around.

There's also an after-credits scene: just a little girl playing with Arthur/Gawain's crown. Notably, this little girl is neither of the children Gawain had in his vision of the cowardly future, so I interpreted it as a new future with a new child with potential all their own.

But that's just my take.

[ectonurites]

heyyy can you talk about kons dating history or atleast with older women? ive seen a few posts but im not sure but thats so ://///

Ahhh yes. Kon’s dating history, I've finally now finished reading all his solo comics (and had already gone through his team books a while back) so it’s a perfect time to delve into this. I’m kinda broadening it to his love interests in general, as not all of them put an official ‘dating’ label on things, but are still worth bringing up. This is kinda long so sorry in advance about that, but I tried to be as brief as possible.

TW for pedophilia (in these specific cases discussing a 23 year old dating a 16 year old, and another woman without a specifically given age [but clearly an adult] with the same 16 year old) obviously i’m not talking about it positively here but it’s unfortunately necessary to discuss with this topic.

I consider Kon as having five primary love interests in the pre-reboot comics world, which is where most of his dating happened. The ‘criteria’ I guess i’m using to separate them from the others i’ll talk about after is a combination of ‘they interacted for a long time’ and/or ‘the relationship had a big impact on his story/him as a person’. 

I’m also mainly sticking in pre-New 52 world for this because aside from the 'fake married to Lophi to protect her and her kid on Gemworld' thing in Young Justice 2019, he hasn't done much with relationships since getting officially reintroduced. Then the New 52 version of Kon was a very separate person and even so he was mainly just (sorta) involved with Cassie.

ANYWAYS the main five are:

Tana Moon - Tana was a 23 year old (as stated in Superboy #32) reporter Kon initially met during Reign of the Supermen, the story he debuted in (meaning she was one of the first people he met), who also happened to move back to Hawaii around the time he ended up there on his press tour. The two of them had an on and off relationship from basically the start of the comic until she broke up with him in Superboy #46. She briefly came back into his life in Superboy #72 after having been kidnapped by The Agenda, before being killed by Amanda Spence in Superboy #74. Kon and several others refer to her as his ‘first love’ especially after her death, which weighed very heavily on him.

Knockout/Kay - A woman we find out was originally one of the Female Furies, who works as a stripper at the 'Boom Boom Room’ in Hawaii while trying to keep a low-profile after leaving Apokolips. We don't get an exact age for her but she's very much so implied to be an adult. She hits on Kon from the moment she meets him (she also quite literally uses the term ‘jailbait’ to describe him in her first appearance in Superboy #1) and kisses him several times, insisting on working with him and training him and eventually beginning a more formal relationship with him. She kills someone and he blindly defends her thinking she couldn’t have done it, and she tries to coerce him into killing someone by promising herself to him (before killing the guy herself when Kon wouldn’t do it). The arc mainly focused on their relationship is from Superboy #22-30, but she is a presence in the comic from the start. She is arrested for the murders she committed at the end of the arc, and doesn't interact with Kon much again after as she is in a high security prison, but she is referenced multiple times.

Roxy Leech - Roxy is the daughter of Rex Leech, Kon's agent. From the moment she meets Kon, also during Reign of the Supermen like Tana, she's got a thing for him. Her age is left a bit more unclear, as some bits of dialogue indicate she is actually close to Kon's age but other things like how she applies to the police academy, something you need to be like 20 to do, indicate she's a bit older. Regardless, she’s definitely younger than Tana as she comments on her age at least once. She actively dislikes both Tana and Knockout for being interested in Kon, and confesses her feelings to him during a 'the whole world might end tonight' situation (in Superboy #33). The two of them didn't really date, but there is a period of time where Kon feels torn between Tana and Roxy. Not too long after that she ends up volunteering herself to be used in a procedure to stabilize Kon's dna after it had been torn apart by The Agenda when they cloned him, as the method to save him required someone close in age to him be used as a genetic template. From that point on they considered each other more like siblings, ending the romantic aspect of their relationship (in Superboy #41)

Serling Roquette - Serling is a 16 year old (as first stated in Superboy #57) science prodigy who works in the genetics department of Cadmus, and is the person who manages to cure Kon's condition where he'd been stuck at age 16 (a side effect from the procedure with Roxy). Initially she had a crush on Guardian, but over time grew to like Kon, she was one of the first people at Cadmus he personally tells his name ‘Kon-El’ to. They only kinda start to get together before Tana comes back and then is killed. After a situation where Roxy came back and needed help, when he and Serling try to maybe pick things up again, Kon realizes Tana’s death is still too fresh for him to get involved in anything too serious with her and he breaks it off, leaving them very tense with one another. (Superboy #82) 

Wonder Girl/Cassie Sandsmark - Cassie had an interest in Kon before she even met him, more of a celebrity crush at first than anything else. They share their first kiss in Wonder Woman #153 after she had tried to change her look to impress him and he reassured her that she was already beautiful the way she is. Cassie was present for Tana's death in Superboy #74, and after that Kon is overly protective of her in a noticeable way that actively annoyed her (She points out to him that she can take care of herself a few times, like in Young Justice #29) but eventually at the end of Young Justice (in #55) he confesses feelings for her, and they share another kiss. Graduation Day bringing about the end of Young Justice as a team kinda throws a wrench in things, but early in Teen Titans Vol. 3 they begin to date more formally, and are getting pretty serious together (cough cough they uhh consummate their relationship in the Kent farm's barn in TT Annual #1) right before Kon is killed during Infinite Crisis. She takes his death very badly and joins a cult to try to bring him back, has her whole thing with Tim (who is coping equally poorly with the death... almost 100 cloning attempts babey), and befriends Kara as a surrogate Teen Kryptonian™, but eventually learns to accept what happened and move on. Then he comes back, and everything's a lot to process all over again. She had become the team leader and things were just different than they used to be. They tried to resume their relationship but eventually Kon decided to end it (Teen Titans Vol. 3 #91), because they both wanted different things at that point in their lives, but they remained friends and teammates.

So when people are talking about the ‘older women’ thing, it should be pretty clear from that list they’re talking about Tana and Knockout. Both were adult women dating a 16 year old boy, and neither situation did enough to handle it in a way that addressed it as the problem it was. Knockout’s situation did end up being seen as a bad thing by the end because of the murder parts at the very least, but the age difference didn’t come up nearly as much. With Tana a few people (Roxy, some of Tana’s coworkers, even Tana herself) did bring up the age difference as a potential problem, but they continued to stay together for a pretty long time regardless. The kicker is that she ultimately breaks up with him for being ‘immature’ after he gets stuck at age 16, when it’s like... he’s 16. You’re 23. No kidding you think he’s immature? It was just a whole mess and makes reading a lot of his solo incredibly uncomfortable.

Additionally he has a few other shorter-lived relationships/potential love interests. I’m categorizing them separately because they weren’t focused on in the same ways/for as much time as the girls I listed above:

Trixie (Superboy #94-100) - When Kon gets his own apartment in Suicide Slum, he repeatedly runs into Trixie and the rest of the Slaughterhouse Six, but Superboy inspires her to try to turn her life around. They didn’t formally date but that was definitely the direction things were starting to head towards before his apartment building blew up and he realized he needed to get away from the city where his presence was painting a target on innocent people, and so they decided to just be friends. (This was also when his solo ended, so possibly if the book hadn’t been ending they may have continued longer)

Batgirl/Cassandra Cain (Superboy #85, Batgirl #39-41) - They first met when Kon had been bugging Tim in Gotham, and had a little adventure together that resulted in Batman being PISSED because he didn’t want Cass interacting with Metas (especially not teenage boy ones that’ll flirt with her) and Kon volunteered to share her punishment so she didn’t have to do it alone. They later meet again shortly after Kon moved in with the Kents while on a cruise (and he’s her first kiss!) and afterwards she goes to Smallville to meet him. She’s actually like the first person outside the Kents we’re shown to know his new civilian name is ‘Conner Kent’. After their little attempt at a date they decide to just stay friends.

Lori Luthor (Various appearances with Kon in Adventure Comics (2009) & Superboy Vol. 5) - When Kon and Lori initially meet there’s definitely some interest and she kisses him, but it happens while he’s still dating Cassie so he makes it clear he’s unavailable. Afterwards he learns who she actually is and realizes ‘oh she’s sorta kinda my cousin on the Luthor side’ so he stops really being interested. She’s still interested because she feels like the cloning doesn’t make them really related, and they talk about it in Superboy Vol. 5 #4 after he and Cassie had broken up, but he still feels too raw from Cassie and too weirded out by the situation to have it go anywhere. Kon helps try to get Lex to cure Lori’s mom (Lex’s sister Lena), and eventually when Lex is an ass in the end he finds another way (Some Wayne money through Tim) to try to help her. Lori figures out Conner is Superboy and along with Simon and Sujan helps him to save Smallville from the Hollow Men.

Ravager/Rose Wilson (Teen Titans Vol. 3 #95-100, kinda some parts of Superboy Vol. 6 if ya squint) - This is another of those ‘they didn’t actually date but there was interest’ situations, in the very end of Teen Titans Vol. 3. A fake version of Rose had kissed Kon which was kinda the catalyst for it, where after that moment he became a bit more protective of her once the real her returned. They had a moment where Kon tried to trust her with something (Kryptonite to take him down if the situation arose) but she saw it more as him thinking she was the one ruthless enough to do it, rather than as a token of trust, and left upset. The reboot happened before this really went anywhere/got resolved though, but interestingly enough she became a bit of a support character in the New 52 version of Kon’s life, likely because of this connection they tried to do before the reboot. They never really dated there either, he just referred to her as cute a few times. New 52 Kon is a very separate person anyways, but it’s worth mentioning.

I might be forgetting a few other minor ones along the way (especially if there’s things that weren’t in his main books), and Kon (especially in the 90′s) was the kind of guy to flirt with pretty much every girl he saw, so bear that in mind. But yeah, I hope this helps! 

[dinosaurtsukki]

haikyuu!! team christmas parties

a/n: this is a suuuuper late christmas-themed post because it was kinda crazy here but i hope you guys enjoy these headcanons of how christmas parties are like with the teams

karasuno: 

a very chaotic yet very festive christmas party

nishinoya and hinata especially are very excited for it you could tell by the way they hum christmas songs in the locker room

naturally sugawara suggests holding a christmas party in his house but the only one he sends invitations to is tsukishima because he's the likeliest one to back out

in fact, sugawara probably sends an invitation to tsukishima's house every single day and at this point both akiteru and his mom are anticipating 'kei's first christmas party with friends'

hinata was too excited that he was there at sugawara's house two hours early but they spent a lot of time decorating the entire place

yamaguchi was there just as early because he thought it would be polite and he even brought a box of chocolates for sugawara's family

all of them also decided to do a secret santa gift exchange to make things fun and so they wouldn't have to give everyone gifts

the only ones who gave everyone gifts though were asahi (HE MADE UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE) and yachi who gave everyone some cookies that she baked

everyone mentally thanked kiyoko for getting yachi as assistant manager

ennoshita's secret santa was tanaka and because he knew that ennoshita has been wanting a starbuck's planner, he enlisted noya's help in getting one

did this mean they both chugged 12 starbucks drinks all by themselves in one day? yeah pretty much

when ennoshita got his gift everyone understood why tanaka and noya were extra hyper that day

kageyama also got tsukishima as his secret santa

tsukki actually tried to exchange with yamaguchi but daichi caught him and said that there were no exchanges

he was also planning to get kageyama a plastic tiara as a gift but daichi also caught him (is2g he's everywhere)

eventually tsukishima settled on giving kageyama a volleyball cause he couldn't go wrong with that

kageyama was actually really happy with the gift but kinda pissed that it came from tsukishima of all people so he was just kinda squinting at tsukishima wondering what to say

anyway they didn't fight that's a christmas miracle

yamaguchi got daichi's name for the secret santa and gifted him a coupon for a free spa visit

daichi has a new favorite child

jk yamaguchi has always been his favorite child

hinata actually got KIYOKO to give a gift too and he was anxious for an entire week worrying about what to give her

he ended up asking natsu for advice and then gifting kiyoko a cute little phone charm

she thought it was sweet and still keeps it to this day

seijoh:

oikawa already had a group chat for a christmas party when december started hanamaki and matsukawa spammed it with memes and santa emojis for the first two weeks

finally when they got around to planning, iwaizumi offered to hold the party at his house 

surprisingly, the earliest one there was kyoutani because ofc he's helping his senpai set up

imagine the both of them trimming the christmas tree i'm jlgkjalg 

kyoutani even brought his own christmas decorations (they're little dogs with santa hats on them) 

kindaichi and kunimi were next to come in and they brought a little gingerbread house that they made themselves

y'all oikawa came in last because of 'traffic' but iwaizumi's like 'bullshit, you live next door'

he was late because he was watching the doctor who christmas special 

matsukawa and hanamaki are of course in charge of all the party games that last throughout the night

they have a newspaper dance game and they intentionally paired up oikawa and kyoutani 

they were the first ones to lose the game because kyoutani wouldn't come a foot near oikawa and that's about how wide their newspaper was

iwaizumi and kindaichi easily won but kindaichi was flustered that iwaizumi carried him bridal-style

you can bet they also brought karaoke and yahaba surprised everyone with his rendition of 'all i want for christmas is you'

also matsukawa and hanamaki did a really good duet of 'baby it's cold outside'

oikawa wanted to make a speech about his friends being his family and them being his best christmas gift ever but hanamaki stopped him

oikawa ended up giving one anyway when the party ended up going on until much later and everyone cried

everyone except kyoutani who was wondering why everyone was crying until he realized that iwaizumi was going abroad for uni

shiratorizawa:

these guys are so close that they just had to have a christmas party together 

goshiki ofc volunteered his own house and was deadset on making it the best christmas ever for his senpais

except tendou may have told him that ushijima's favorite decorations were mistletoe so ofc goshiki hung mistletoe ever

the funny thing is ushijima DOES like mistletoe. he thinks its classy and simple but he doesn't know about the kissing thing

meanwhile shirabu and tendou are on the side wondering if they should tell either of them

semi lost some kind of bet (probs with shirabu and kawanishi) and now he has to dress up as santa claus for some reason

lmao angry santa semi i love it already

tendou made some handmade chocolate truffles and half of them are delicious but the other half have a piece of onion in the middle

but the delicious ones are like REALLY delicious so everyone plays this sort of russian roulette game with tendou's chocolate truffles

semi kept on getting the onion truffles until reon felt bad for him and gave him his chocolate truffle

it ended up becoming a christmas tradition

ushijima actually gave everyone a gift and it's matching knee pads

shirabu actually loves them except he doesn't want to wear them out so he never wears them

also he gets cold really easily so even though the christmas party is indoors, he's wearing a sweater and a coat and a quilt on top of that

he honestly looks so cozy that by the end of the night everyone is cuddled up next to shirabu

EXCEPT USHIJIMA ALSO INVITED COACH WASHIJO TO COME IN

ushijima: he's our coach and therefore a part of our team so of course i invited him

no one can argue with him there

coach washijo was surprisingly a nice guest but everyone was extra courteous around him

semi served him some hot tea and shirabu even gave his quilt

goshiki was hiding in his bathroom because he might get lectured on his serves

they didn't know what activities to do with coach washijo around so tendou suggested watching their volleyball games (yes, goshiki has them all on tape) and coach washijo was all like 'i watch you play all the time why would i want to do that now?'

eventually they settled on watching Polar Express and it was nice

nekoma:

their christmas party is also a costume party because kuroo said so all of them came in christmas-themed costumes

AND THEY WERE ALL GROUP COSTUMES

the third years roped in shibayama and they all dressed up as the characters from 'A Christmas Carol'

shibayama was christmas past, kai was christmas present, kuroo was christmas future, and yaku was scrooge

kuroo: it's perfect because you're short and mean

it's funny because they all end up capitalists

okay but tbh the second years plus lev also went all out for their costumes because they come in as HOME ALONE

i'm clearly biased when it comes to my favorite christmas movies

fukunaga and taketora are the two robbers, kenma's kevin, and lev comes in as the house

it's basically a cardboard cut-out of a house that he and alisa made

the first twenty minutes of their christmas party is basically just them arguing about which group had the better costume

eventually they decide to actually enjoy the party

they end up playing a lot of parlor games and even though kenma hates how loud everyone is, he's still determined to win all of them

i swear, he ended up pushing lev out of the way during musical chairs, also grabbing the chair before sitting on it

but then after that kenma decides to play games for the rest of the night except kuroo confiscated his game console (again)

you can bet yaku and fukunaga cooked the christmas dinner for everyone

kai takes a million pictures for the memories but he's really a perfectionist about it and go crazy whenever lev moves two millimeteres too far to the left

when the pictures are developed kuroo has them developed on matching t-shirts and forces everyone to wear them during practice matches

tsukishima: nice shirt

kuroo: why THANK you

kenma: thanks, i fucking hate it

inarizaki: 

ngl they're not SUPER into christmas but they're just mildly curious about the celebration

it's mostly the miya twins who initiate it as a way for all of them to have a get-together during the winter break

kita thinks it's a good idea and invites them all to his house

he's actually quite curious about christmas as a religious celebration so he reads up on it a lot and even starts to up his own nativity scene as decoration

he ends up asking his teammates if they want to bring anything to add to the nativity scene

suna brings his gundam figurines and atsumu has an acrylic standee of momo from twice

and now those are joseph and mary

aran and kita take one look at the nativity scene and go 'this doesn't look right' but atsumu looks so happy to have momo there that they just leave it be

osamu is in charge of food ofc but he can't make up his mind on what to cook so he ends up cooking a little bit of everything

ofc atsumu has to be the one to help him but he ends up tasting and eating a good portion while osamu's cooking

*insert fighting in the kitchen*

suna's just walking around taking pictures of everything and uploading them to his snapchat (which has a lot of followers)

"our chaotic team christmas party part 1 of ???"

aran and kita just want some chill time and drink hot chocolate while watching christmas specials

kita also hung up stockings for everyone and suna was expecting it to have candy but its full of fruit and healthy snacks

they still taste good though

suna’s also the first one to fall asleep right smack on kita’s couch 

atsumu’s just about to draw on his face with permanent marker but kita has a disappointed look so he stops instantly

in fact, ALL of them end up falling asleep in the middle of kita’s living room 

they look so cute aran is in the middle with each of the miya twins on his side. suna is sprawled all over the couch with his face buried in the cushions. kita is sleeping right next to the coffee table with his arms crossed over his chest

kita’s grandmother walks in on them in the living room and knows FOR SURE that she doesn’t have four grandchildren but she’s making them breakfast anyway 

***********************************************

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan​ @therainroguefanfiction​ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh​ @charliefredb​ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @tpwkatsumu

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk X Reader : The City Of Fey Chapter 14

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Notes: ^ My gif. Let me know what you think :) (of the story.. not the gif lmao just saying).  Sorry this took so terribly long. You don't have to read this chapter, see it as a little extra thing that I had to get out of my mind.

Summary:  As a fey queen you are by now used to it that fey come into your woods seeking refugee or a place to hide. Things get complicated however when your knights have not just brought a fey boy but also the Red Paladins’ fiercest warrior into your city.  

Chapter Summary:   While the city prepares to celebrate the victory, you and Lancelot decided to settle once and for all who truly won during sparring. Lancelot realises there are downsides to keeping the relationship a secret from the public when others still seek your affection.

Chapters:   14/ 14 

Word Count: 11078 words...sorry lol (in this chapter)

Extra notes: Two jealous idiots. One brave little wingman and lots of tension. Grab some water y'all. Warning: Not smut. But pretty suggestive *cough*

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When morning came Lancelot awoke to find you were no longer next to him. Last night repeating itself over and over again in his thoughts. He would have believed it had been a dream if your scent did not still linger on the sheets. Any other time he had no reluctance to leave his bed at dawn, but today he found himself unwilling. He could have easily fallen back asleep, soothed by the scent. But quick loud knocking on his door made it impossible. He groaned, knowing but all too well who would knock on his door like that. He quickly made himself look decent before answering the door. Percival looked up at him, clearly agitated "It's dawn!" Lancelot closed his eyes and sighed. The one time he didn't want to leave his own bed, seemed to be the only time the boy had no problem with being up this early. "Perhaps we should rest today." He tried to reason with the boy. Percival quirked a brow at him, clearly not expecting his fellow knight to 'rest'. "Y/n is on the field already." The boy said matter-of-factly. Lancelot eyed the boy supiciously, did the boy just try to persuade him ? It proved effective however. "Give me a moment ?" He asked and Percival gave a nod. A smirk was plastered on the boy's face as Lancelot shut the door on him

You were up early, when you awoke you had expected Lancelot to be awake already as he always was at dawn. But no, when you had turned around he was sleeping peacefully next to you. He looked so calm, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up. So you had snuck out of the room leaving him to rest. You tried your best to focus on the people on the field who had gathered to practice their fighting skills. Those who were not wounded much by the battle were present again. And you spotted many new faces, all willing to learn how to protect themselves after what had happened. You were left with a problem however, Crillan was gone and they had no one to teach them but Raphael. But Raphael had other duties to take care off as well. Raphael walked up to you and stood next to you as you watched the people try and teach each other what they knew. "We need someone to teach the people." He looked at the people with a worried expression "Do you think he would consider it ?" You furrowed your brow at Raphael "Who ?" He almost rolled his eyes "The one who's bedroom you snuck out of this morning." Your eyes snapped away from Raphael immediately. Damnit, you had tried so hard to be discreet about it. Raphael hid a smirk from you "I am your second in command, y/n. Whatever happens in this city.." "You will hear about it." You guessed the rest before sighing "The soldier ?" He gave a nod "Is there anything I should know about, your highness ?" Oh you knew the question wasn't necesarry, he knew the answer but he wanted a 'confession'. Your reply was short but still your voice cracked "No." Now he truly rolled his eyes and shook his head "Very well then. I must inform you that the people wish to celebrate this victory.." You let out a deep sigh "Do you find it appropriate after Crillan's death ?" He clicked his tongue before carefully reminding you "Crillan would find it appropriate." He quirked a brow and you chuckled at the memory. "He always found the dumbest reasons for a celebration. " You pinched the bridge of your nose.

"The baby goat.” Raphael reminiscent.

You shrugged your shoulders a little “It was a cute baby goat so that was worth celebrating.”

Both of you looked at each other before laughing at the fact.

After pondering the thought you sighed “Fine. The people deserve some relaxation after all this.”

Raphael gave an inclination of the head “I'll make the arrangements. Tonight ?”

You nodded in agreement “Tonight.”

Raphael left your side to go and talk to the people on the field. You should have known he would be the first to find out, of course he would ask the soldiers where the queen was if she was not in her chambers. You groaned at your own stupidity before thinking about what he had said. It would make sense to ask Lancelot to train the people, he was the best fighter and he had often helped them even when Crillan was still here. But you were reluctant to it, you didn't want to push him into this. You did tell him you didn't expect him to fight.

After some minutes went by you saw Percival run up to the field excitedly, followed by Lancelot who approached you.

He stopped to stand right next to you, glancing at you for a moment before he looked at the training people.

You cleared your throat a bit nervous “Good morning, Sir Lancelot. I hope you were able to rest well ?”

He glanced at you again from the corner of his eyes as he replied quietly “I have. I only wish I had awoken differently..”

The meaning behind it did not pass you by, you replied in a hushed voice “You looked so peaceful. I couldn't bring myself to wake you.”

“I'd still have preferred it over being awoken by someone almost knocking my door down.” He chuckled as he tilted his head in Percival's direction.

You let out a soft laugh and shook your head “How does that boy have so much energy ?”

“I believe tormenting me fuels him.” Lancelot said in an almost serious tone.

You snorted at the comment and shook your head “Did you go and see Dahlia ?”

He nodded but you could see there was something he wasn't saying.

“What did she say ?” You quirked a brow at him.

He cleared his throat “She told me if I ever neglected to show up for my health check-up again, she would stitch a pig's tail to my head.”

Your eyes widdened for a moment “But was she happy with your progress ?”

His eyes now searched for yours, thinking back to how you had healed him last night “Very.”

He leaned closer to you, his voice almost a whisper “Thank you.”

Something told you that he wasn't just thanking you for healing him and you felt the heat rise to your face as you muttered a “You're very welcome.”

A moment passed, which felt filled with tension with him standing beside you quietly before you remembered something.

You held out your hand to him and he looked at you questioningly.

“Your sword, please.” You nodded to him.

He was confused by your request but did as asked, you took the sword from him before calling out to a soldier who was waiting nearby. She approached and handed you something that was covered in a piece of fabric.

You thanked the soldier and turned your attention back on Lancelot. You held the covered unidentified object out to him “For you.”

He carefully took it from your hands “What's this ?..”

You gestured for him to see for himself and he peeled the fabric away, unveiling a sword. It's cross-guard and pommel made from silver, decorated with gold in the shape of leaves etched into the silver.

He was silent while he studied the sword and you watched him nervously, awaiting his reaction.

“I.. I hope it's to your liking.” You stuttered.

He took some steps back and twirled the sword expertly, testing it.

After another moment, which felt like eternity, he smiled broadly.

“It's not bad.” He said in a casual voice.

You looked at him in slight panic before you realised he's toying with you.

You stepped closer to him and held out your hand “Well, if you don't want it-”

“I do.” He held the sword out of your reach with a smirk.

He brushed his hand over the edge of the blade before his eyes fell on yours “Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” You took another step closer to him and smiled at him widely.

He noticed there was something unsaid by the way you moved towards him “Is there something the matter ?”

Lancelot's perception suprised you and you cleared your throat awkwardly.

Seeing you this nervous definitely made him curious what was going through your mind.

You fidgeted with your hands “It's...I...”

He waited patiently for your reply but you just sighed deeply.

“It's nothing. Nevermind.” You lied.

He saw through the lie “Y/n.”

You looked at him now, wishing you didn't have to ask him this. Not after everything he had already done. Not after you had told him he wouldn't have to fight like he had to when he was with the Red Paladins. You feared he might think you saw him as Father Carden had seen him. A weapon to wield.

“Now that Crillan is.. gone. We have no one to teach the people how to fight. Raphael tries to help but he has other pressing matters to attend to. I...-” You blurted it out.

He caught up with what you were trying to say “You want me to teach them.”

You spoke quietly, visibly struggling with it "I didn't want to ask this of you. I understand if you refuse." He looked to the field and saw how the people desperately tried to us their swords but he spotted many dangerous situations right away. Percival had been overhearing you mentioning about the people needing someone to teach them "I'll do it !" "NO." Both you and Lancelot exclaimed at the volunteering boy. "Absolutely not." Lancelot ended the boy's enthusiastic attempt. “I'll teach them.”

He gave you a reasurring look, letting you know he was alright with it. "I want to help !" Percival once again piped up. Lancelot turned to you, his voice discreet "The bow ?" You understood what he was suggesting "We need someone to teach people archery." "I can tell.." Percival scoffed lightly and gestured to you. You bit your tongue knowing the boy meant your poor archery skill. Lancelot coughed to hide a laugh and your eyes snapped to him. He cleared his throat "Teach those who are old enough to learn. We have to be prepared if something were to happen again, Percival." Percival gave a nod and went to fetch some bows and arrows. "That boy... " You shook your head before you looked at Lancelot with narrowed eyes “So you believe my skill with the sword and the bow are bad ? Don't think I didn't notice that you found that funny.”

And with that, Lancelot got nervous. He recalled how he had confessed that he had let you win during sparring. He'd hoped you would have forgotten about it.

Before he could reply and save his skin you casual told him “We'll talk about this later. Your people are waiting, Sir Lancelot.”

You brushed passed him nonchalantly but he knew better. You weren't going to let this go so easily.

It was getting dark as you approached the field, which was now empty apart from Percival who was helping Lancelot collect the swords and bows that had been left behind by the people.

You watched as Percival spoke animatedly while Lancelot tried to devide his attention between the boy and the task at hand. You approached them but stopped a little away from them. Percival noticed you first and did a dramatic bow.

Lancelot turned to the boy and watched him strangely before realising you were there.

“Sir Percival.” You greeted the boy formally while trying not to laugh “Were you able to teach others some archery ?”

His eyes darted between you and Lancelot who was staring at you “I was able to teach them some. But they will need a lot more practice, most of them are absolute-”

Lancelot nudged the boy, realising that nothing good came at the end of that sentence “They need more practice.”

You hummed approvingly when you noticed how Lancelot had stopped the boy from cussing.

“Percival, I believe Ayla has requested that you sit next to her for dinner today ?” You quirked a brow at the boy.

The suprise on Lancelot's face at the news alerted you that he had no idea of the request.

He send an inquiring look at Percival who now turned a light shade of pink.

The boy shifted awkwardly on his feet, avoiding your inquisitive gazes.

“She's waiting in the dining hall. You should go, I need to speak with Lancelot.” The way you said the last part alerted Lancelot that there was something bothering you.

He realised you were sending the boy away to talk to him in private.

Lancelot looked at you before he cleared his throat “Go on, Percival. I'll finish the rest here.”

Percival gave a silent nod before he ran off, gratefull that he could escape the awkward topic.

Your attention turned to Lancelot, and you started to walk as you pulled out your sword. He eyed you curiously as you circled around him like a wolf circling it's prey.

“I believe we have an unresolved issue.” You said matter-of-factly as you brushed your fingers over the blade of your sword.

The wheels in his head were turning at the speed of lightning until he finally guessed what the issue was.

He tilted his head down as he let out a chuckle.

When he looked up and met your eyes, he smirked “Is this what I think this is about  ?”

You raised a brow “This is about you claiming that I didn't best you during sparring.”

His smirk grew wider at the confirmation, you had mentioned you wished to settle this 'debate' but he didn't think you would actually come to settle it like this.

“I let you win.” He was taunting you.

You bit your tongue as you watched him “Why ?”

He quickly averted his eyes, now turning a light shade of pink.

You placed your finger on the tip of your sword “Care to settle this ?”

He looked at you expectantly “Are you sure you want to do this ?”

You scoffed at that and nodded your head “Uhm, yeah.. why ? Scared I will prove I'm better ?”

You knew he was competetive and that would definitely get under his skin.

He scoffed loudly before he took his sword, the way he looked at you send a shiver down your spine.

And for a fleeting moment you wondered if this was such a good plan after all.

“Well then. Don't hold back...” He said with an inclination of the head before arrogantly adding “Your highness.” He beckoned for you.

Gods, the way he spoke your title in a taunting way made you more eager to knock his ego down just a bit.

You spun your sword in your hand before charging at him and trying to land the first strike. He realised quickly that you weren't going to hold back unlike last time. He blocked your sword with his and used it to push you sideways away from him. You turned and landed on one knee as you struck again. He stuck his sword into the ground to block yours. This time it was him who turned as you got up from the ground. You blocked his sword and turned to strike, he pushed your sword away hard and you almost lost your grip on it. You pulled out your dagger with your other hand but he had expected you would attempt to use it. He gripped your wrist and managed to grab the dagger from you. Then you did something neither of you expected.

A strong burst of wind knocked him back away from you a few steps

It suprised him and he looked at you with an expression that said 'did you really just do that ?' Up until now you had only truly used your ability during the battle, you never realised the potential it had. You smirked at him, eyes glistering with mischief. His expression changed and you knew you were in trouble.

His voice low as he spoke "You're not playing fair." “I never said we were playing fair.” You replied cheekily before pointing your sword at him “I want my dagger back.”

He twirled the dagger in his hand “Come and take it then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and went to strike his left, he used both the dagger and his sword to 'catch' your sword in between them. Then he grabbed the blade of your sword and pulled it from your hands, before tossing it a few feet further away.

Then in one swift move he took hold of your arm, turning it in such a way that it was now trapped behind your back before pulling your back against his chest and holding the dagger's hilt beneath your chin. He was standing closely against you as he kept you in place by holding your arm behind your back. You didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling when he spoke next. "I believe I bested you, didn't I ?" You didn't reply, refusing to admit he did.

He pulled you flush against his chest. He threw the dagger from his hand and it landed in a nearby tree, freeing his hand so he could brush his fingers down your shoulder. Your breath hitched at the touch. He leaned in to brush his lips against your shoulder, close to your neck. You knew what he was trying to do and you were not going to admit he won this time. You tried to take a step forward to avoid being 'convinced' to admit it. He felt you move, and quickly pulled you back against him as a chuckle escaped him "Admit I bested you." "No." You said stubbornly, but your voice pitched. He trailed his hand up your arm, while he kept you in place by holding your other arm behind your back. It trailed up to your jaw until he gently moved your head to the side. His mouth hovering just next to your ear. "We could continue to debate this, I am a patient man. Or.." He didn't finish his sentence, instead he placed a kiss on the side of your neck. His warm breath on your neck made your knees feel weak. Damn this man. You cursed under your breath at how compelling it was to just admit it. "Fine." He smirked against your neck and his fingers gently wrapped around your neck as his mouth explored your neck. Your reached up with your free hand to cup the side of his face. It was driving you insane how much affect he had on you. "Lancelot.." Your heart was hammering in your ribcage. He hummed against your skin, his hand moving down to your collar bone. With the way he was holding you in place, it was torture. You just wanted to kiss him back so badly. "Kiss me." It came out as a desperate plea. "I am." He almost purred it in your ear. You cursed under your breath again, knowing he knew this was not what you meant. You turned your free arm so you held unto his neck as he trailed a path of kisses from your shoulder up to your neck. When his lips landed right below your ear, you let out a silent moan. But he had heard it.

What started as something playful to make you admit he bested you, turned into something that made him want to carry you back to his chambers just to hear that noise again

He froze for a moment and then suddenly, he let go of you. It puzzled you and just then Raphael turned around the corner.

One look at Lancelot and you knew he must have known someone was coming and that had been the reason for his sudden reaction.

Raphael past a quick look between you and Lancelot before speaking “Your highness, the cooks have asked for your presence. They need your input for tonight's feast.”

“Feast ?” Lancelot inquired, unaware of the matter.

“The people have requested a feast. And it is what Crillan would have wanted.” You explained, shooting him a smile.

Lancelot was not a crowd person and it became evident when you saw how hard he tried to look excited about the idea.

You nudged him with your shoulder before walking towards Raphael “Don't worry, Sir Lancelot. The people have not forgotten how your plan saved us.”

It would indeed be different from last time, last time the people still looked upon him in fear. He had not noticed the people look at him in this way lately.

He gave a nod and you went with Raphael to speak with the cooks about tonight's preparations.

~The feast

The boy followed close in his footsteps all while grabbing food from plates all over the room. It seemed the boy's suspicion towards the food had vanished completely.

Manouvering between the dancing people felt eerily similar to moving on a battlefield. But he knew how to act on a battlefield, not here. He spotted Raphael leaning against a pillar and approached him.

The knight greeted him with a nod "So you have decided to train the people ? The queen was quite reluctant to ask you."

Lancelot remembered but all to well "They need to learn how to protect and defend themselves and their queen.."

“She still isn't happy with how we tricked the trinity guards into thinking we were going to sacrifice you." Raphael winced slightly at the memory. "It was an option." Lancelot deadpanned. Raphael scoffed loudly "I'd rather die at the hands of the trinity guards then at the hands of the queen."

Lancelot's expression told Raphael that he agreed with that statement.

Someone passed them carrying some tankards with alcoholic beverages in them.

Percival stopped the person, suprising his fellow knights as he suddenly spoke in a formal way “Excuse me, the queen has told me that I must taste the beverages to inspect their quality.” It sounded practiced.

The person thought none of it and handed the boy a tankard that Percival eagerly took before thanking the person.

Raphael and Lancelot gawked at the boy.

The boy raised the tankard to his lips but you had seen it happen and quickly walked over and moved to take it from his hands “Did I ? I don't remember asking you that.”

Percival's eyes were wide knowing he just got caught lying.

You shared a quick look with Lancelot who closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Sir Lancelot, don't let Sir Percival drink that alcohol." You handed Lancelot the tankard before walking with Raphael towards Dahlia. Percival reaches for the tankard and it swiftly moved out of his reach by Lancelot.

"Oi ! " The boy piped up in frustration. "By the queen's order." Lancelot raised a brow as he kept the tankard out of reach

"Wuss." Lancelot rolled his eyes when the word reached his ears "Your use of language will continue to get you into trouble." Percival just shrugged and pouted. He now looked at the boy as he tried to make him see reason "I won't always be there to help." The boys attention snapped up to him and Lancelot almost instantly regretted what he had said when he saw the look in the boy's eyes. "What do you mean ? You're not leaving are you ?" The boys attitude had switched so fast it was hard to keep track. He saw the panic in the boy's eyes and his expression softened because of it. "No, I am not leaving. I just want you to understand that there are consequences to one's actions, Percival. What if you insult someone when I'm not there and they attempt to kill you ?" "I'll fight them." The boy shrugged his shoulders. He should have seen that reply coming "What if they are better at fighting?" "I guess that means you're not doing a good job teaching me then." The boy blurted out. Lancelot gawked at the boy speechless. After a moment of silence he spoke quietly "What I am trying to say is that there might come a day where I can't protect you." Percival's reply was almost a whisper "But if you can.. you will ?" His voice sincere when he answered "With my life." "Even though I called you a wuss ?" The boy quirked a brow in slight suprise. Lancelot chuckled and his eyes focused on the dancing people "Yes. And I've been called worse. Even by you.” The boy would never admit it but he was glad to hear it, especially because it was Lancelot himself confirming that he indeed cared a lot about him. Just like he would never admit that he cared about the tall idiot as well. That is why he immediately became suspicious when a woman approached them. "Excuse me, Sir Lancelot ?" She asked innocently. Still not used to the title Lancelot just nodded to the woman. "I was wondering if you had seen my sister ? She is wearing a blue dress and has short brown hair." She took a step closer, causing Percival to look at the woman with an odd expression. He tried to remember if he had seen anyone that matched the description but could not remember seeing anyone "I have not. Do you believe your sister to be in trouble ?" She quickly shook her head and giggled "Oh no, she is probably just avoiding the public." The woman then placed a hand on his arm "She's very insecure you see, always telling me I'm the prettier one." The moment the woman's hand touched his arm a cold wind travelled through the room, cold as winter. He had felt similar winds before and he knew exactly where they came from. When he looked in your direction he saw how you were nervous and how Raphael had noticed it too. It seemed like it had suprised the people as well for a moment but they must have thought it was truly just the wind as they soon resumed their activities. Lancelot was left to wonder what caused the outburst of magic from you as it looked like it was unintentional. Percival now narrowed his eyes at the display, disliking this woman immediately "I doubt it." Lancelot still startled by the woman touching him was now looking at the boy in alarm.

The woman's smile fell as she gave the boy a nasty look "I beg your pardon ?" "Percival ! Apologise to -" Lancelot started to scold the boy. "She doesn't have a sister ! So I doubt they would tell her that." The boy quickly explained himself. The woman swallowed hard when the truth saw the light and she quickly muttered an apology before walking away hastily. Percival rolled his eyes and sighed at Lancelot's confussion.

When you had looked to where Lancelot was standing with Percival, you had observed how a woman approached him. It looked like she was just asking him something but your instincts told you there was more to it and your worries were confirmed when she suddenly laid her hand on his arm. It lingered there and it was what caused your magic to involuntarily create a cold gush of wind in the room. You truly prayed the people would not notice it. You sank back in your chair wanting to hide your face in embarrassment at your own actions. But people noticed it, for a moment it had felt like like the temperature had significantly dropped in the room. And that's how you knew Lancelot must have known it was you causing it. Raphael's brows had shot upwards in suprise. He had seen how a woman had approached Lancelot and tried to flirt with him. But it was apparent that his fellow knight was oblivious to the woman's intentions. You however clearly were not. "Really, y/n ?" No hint of how amusing it had been to him audible in his voice. "Shut it." You glared at him. He took a swig of his drink to hide the laugh that followed. A few moments later Lancelot and Percival joined you and Raphael at the table. As he went to take a seat next to you on the right he discreetly whispered "Is something wrong ?" You shook your head as he sat down next to you. Of course you didn't blame him, you couldn't blame the woman either. You haven't actually announced that you two were together. For all anybody knew, you were both available. "I'm still not used to controlling this kind of magic. I'm sorry." You said sheepishly, still ashamed that something that small caused you to react like this. He looked at you with a reasurring expression "It will get better, y/n. I'm here when you need me." It was enough to wash away your worries and you leaned backwards in your chair, letting your hand graze over his back but masking it by tapping Percival's shoulder who was sitting right next to him.

Lancelot was looking at you, well aware that that move was not accidental. When your hand brushed along his back it made him realise how much he craved your touch. How much he wanted to just kiss you now, right in front of everyone. But you were being discreet and he respected that. Perhaps it was a good thing, he did value his privacy as well as yours.

Percival leaned back in his chair to look past Lancelot at you after you had drawn his attention.

“I think Ayla is looking for you, Sir Percival.” You shot him a playfull smile.

At your words the boy sunk lower in his chair, now barely sitting higher then the table.

Lancelot saw an opportunity in the boy's reaction, especially when he noticed the girl approaching the table.

One look at Lancelot's face was enough for you to see what he was planning and you mouthed a 'don't'.

Ayla stopped at the table and made a gracefull bow towards you “Your majesty.”

You tilted your head with a smile “Ayla.”

Then she turned her attention on Percival right away and you felt a little sorry for the boy who looked like he just wanted to disappear into the wood of the chair. Sure he liked the girl, but you felt that he might be a bit intimidated by her.

“Sir Percival, would you like to dance with me ?” She sounded so formal that it cost you all your willpower not to let out a small laugh.

Percival's eyes shot to you, searching for help.

You spoke up, willing to help the boy “Ayla, Sir Percival must be tired. Perhaps-”

Lancelot cut you off “He would love to.”

Both you and Percival looked at him, Percival with a death glare and you with a deep sigh.

He muttered something under his breath, clearly aimed at Lancelot.

Lancelot didn't say another word and the boy got up reluctantly.

Ayla hooked her arm in his while he send another deathglare in Lancelot's direction.

You shook your head before turning to Lancelot “He will make you pay for that. I hope it's worth it.”

Lancelot could barely hide how entertaining it was to him “It is.”

“I would sleep with one eye open, Sir Lancelot.” Raphael warned him.

You chuckled at that and heard Lancelot mutter something that sounded like 'As always'.

The three of you were talking at the table, mostly discussing new ways to train the people, when

a soldier approached you. His insecurity evident in his every step as he got closer to you. You guessed he was a bit younger then you, ash blonde hair and innocent brown eyes stared at you openly. You knew his name was Cirro, but you never had any conversation apart from when you would give an order to your soldiers. He stammered the words "Your highness.." then he did a quick clumsy bow. Lancelot's brows shot up at the sight of the nervous soldier. You tried your best not to show how funny you found his shy demeanor, it would be rude considering he had mustered up the courage to approach you in the first place. "Cirro." You greeted him in a sweet voice to calm the poor man's nerves. "Is there a problem ?" The man quickly shook his head "No, your highness.. I..." his eyes darted between you and Raphael. You tilted your head, encouraging him to continue speaking. Cirro cleared his throat and blurted out "May I have this dance?" The soldier stood there waiting for your answer in nervous anticipation, unaware of the menacing look that the question had created in Lancelot's eyes. Your eyes darted between Cirro, Raphael and then to Lancelot who looked anything but pleased with the soldier's request. You swallowed hard and weighed your options. Refusing to dance with the already shy soldier could be a deathblow to his self-esteem and courage he had shown to even ask you, the queen, in the first place. Accepting the request could send the wrong message to both the soldier and Lancelot. Raphael noticed the uncomfortable tension the request had caused and decided to interfere carefully. He looked at you as he spoke to watch your reaction "The queen accepts your request, you and your fellow soldiers have fought bravely." Lancelot took a deep breath as he listened to his fellow knight accepting the request for you. You nodded to the soldier, having picked up at how Raphael was trying to solve this without hurting anyone's feelings "I am gratefull for my brave soldiers, consider this a sign of my appreciation." The soldier looked baffled for a moment before he gave an inclination of the head and held his hand out to you. Raphael noticed how tense Lancelot was and he leaned a little to the side to speak to him quietly "It's just a dance. It would have been considered rude to refuse after everything they have done for the city. It's a small thing to show our gratitude." Lancelot knew Raphael was right, but he hated to see how the soldier's fingers gently wrapped around your hand "I know." Raphael let out a sigh, hearing the bitter tone in his voice "All the people have now are rumors, Lancelot. No one would dare to ask her if they knew she was not.. available.” he hinted that he knew something was going on between the two of you “To them she is still the queen without a significant other, of course people will try to gain her affection." He thought about Raphael's words as he watched the soldier guide you to the dancefloor.

It made him think back to the night when he had stepped between you and Isich. He learned then that people occasionally approached you with the intention to grow closer to you.

To gain your love and affection.

He was starting to see the downside in being discreet with this now.

The soldier placed a hand on your waist, you knew the poor man was afraid to overstep when he did. He tried to keep a distance but if you were to dance, this would prove difficult. You placed your hand gently on his shoulder as you whispered with a smile "Don't be afraid, Cirro. It's just a dance." The soldier let out a breath before he smiled sheepishly.

Lancelot watched in envy as the soldier took a step closer to you.

It's just a dance.

It's just a dance.

It's just a dance.

He repeated the words in his mind but they did little to nothing to stop the irritation he felt. The only thing that made him remain calm was the fact that you had told him you loved him.

And he trusted you.

He believed you.

But he did not trust those who sought your affection. Not after the incident with Isich.

Percival saw it all happen, his eyes darting between Lancelot at the table and you on the dancefloor with the soldier. He had 'escaped' from Ayla only moments ago. He groaned in silence and cussed under his breath as a plan formed in his head.

He swallowed before walking to Ayla, asking her to dance again. The girl was more then eager at the request and Percival dragged guided her to a well calculated spot on the dancefloor.

His every step in the dance with Ayla was aimed to get closer to you and the soldier.

Cirro held your hand as you spun outward before spinning inward again, you almost crashed into his chest. He had closed the distance between you even more and his other hand landed on your lower back. Too low.

The act was enough to make people whisper to each other, you looked at the soldier with wide eyes.

You didn't dare look in the direction of Lancelot.

The moment Lancelot saw the soldier act so boldy he had moved to stand up but was stopped quickly by Raphael.

“Don't be a fool. Believe me she can handle it, Lancelot.” He reminded him.

Lancelot was seething at this point, his focus was on the soldier's hand on your lower back.

He was standing far too close at this point and Lancelot could see it was making you uncomfortable.

“She shouldn't have to handle it alone !” He snapped at Raphael who seemed to contemplate it.

You looked up at Cirro who now seemed to be far less shy then he was just moments ago. You reached for his hand on your lower back, removing it.

Before you could speak up, Cirro howled in pain and stepped away from you while almost losing his balance.

“Oops.” Percival exclaimed cheekily as he watched the soldier try to regain his balance after having his foot stomped stepped on by him.

You hadn't even noticed Percival was on the dancefloor with Ayla again, and you quirked a brow at the boy. There was no way that was not done intentional.

The soldier cussed discreetly before apologizing to you and leaving the dancefloor with some difficulty.

By now Lancelot had approached you and the boy, unable to just stand by and watch anymore.

“Percival.”

“Percival.”

Both you and Lancelot spoke up to the boy who realised his excellent plan had been discovered.

You looked at Lancelot who was now standing close in front of you, his attention on the boy.

Percival looked at the both of you like a deer in headlights “It was an accident !”

Lancelot hummed and looked at you for a moment as you covered your mouth to stiffle a laugh.

He turned his attention back to Percival. He knew he should scold the boy for what he did, but gods did he appreciate the boy's solution to the situation.  

Percival anxiously awaited Lancelot's reaction.

“We should practice your footwork more tomorrow.” He finally said before nodding to the boy to go.

The boy grinned, then Ayla pulled him away through the crowd before either of you could change your mind and scold him.

You turned to Lancelot and crossed your arms, seeing right through what had just transpired “Really ? Strange how you just let him get away with that.”

“How could I scold him for something I wished to do myself ?” He admitted.

Your brows shot up “Wait.. are you jealous ? It was just a dance, Lancelot. He just got a bit too confident for a moment.”

Lancelot scoffed but deep down he knew it was true.

He stepped closer to you his eyes unreadable “People were whispering..”

You noticed the change in the tone of his voice “Were they now ?”

He nodded and stepped closer again until he was mere inches away from you.

You felt terribly nervous now, you had never seen him jealous before and didn't know what to expect,

You searched his eyes for a sign of what he was thinking or feeling but he was damn good at hiding it right now “What were they saying ?”

His hand sneaked to your waist and he leaned in to whisper in your ear, causing everyone's attention to be on the both of you right away. If it hadn't been obvious to them that there was something between you and him, it was now.

“That you have a fondness for the soldier.” There was no hint of the jealousy he had felt as he spoke huskily.

You almost rolled your eyes “You know better. Let them have their rumors.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes landing on yours. You could see he was contemplating something but what he did next still suprised you.

His hand quickly moved to the back of your neck and his lips crashed to yours.

He would not let them have the rumors, not about you.

Not anymore.

The kiss was searing and it made you forget all about the room filled with people. Then as quickly as he had started kissing you, he stopped.

It left you completely flustered and speechless.

There were no whispers in the room now. There was no need for it anymore, everyone had seen what happened.

Lancelot looked around the room pleased with the result before his eyes landed on you again.

The look in your eyes betraying the unspoken desire the kiss had ignited. He took two steps back, even acting so bold as to giving a slight bow of the head before turning around and walking away from you with a smirk on his face.

You stood there, center of attention now. Still processing what the hell just happened and you felt the eyes of the people on you.

Dahlia was the one to clear her throat and it seemed that it made the people snap out of whatever trance it was that had made them freeze in place.

Your eyes landed on Raphael who seemed to have a similar smirk to the one Lancelot had on his face. It took you another moment to remember how to walk again and when you did, your eyes instantly searched for him in the room. After a while it was clear he wasn't even in the room.

With a deep sigh you looked towards the exit of the room and headed towards it.

You walked into the hallway and spotted him leaning against the wall, facing away from you. He knew you were there the second you stepped into the hallway, your fey scent reached him long before the sound of your voice. As you walked up to him you spoke "I was thinking about how I should address this to the people. I guess no words are needed anymore after that." He looked over his shoulder a bit sheepishly. It was a risky thing to do, kissing you in front of everyone like that but the shot of adrenaline that went with it felt glorious. "Have I overstepped, your highness ?" He tested the waters. You let out a scoff at the question and the way he spoke so formal "Sir Lancelot. You didn't just overstep, you took all forms of protocol and tossed them aside." He had to hide the smile on his face at your words and clicked his tongue "Can you forgive me ?" His tone was playful as he turned to face you, you tried to keep a stern face. "Perhaps. Considering that you are one of my knights now, that means you do have to follow my command." You said in a fake authorative voice. He looked to the ground as he licked his lips before he stalked closer to you "And what is your command, your highness ?" His eyes rose up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you expectantly. You could barely hide the smile tugging at your lips, doubting he would actually follow your command "Would you truly do as I command ?”

He stepped closer to you, so close that if you didn't step back you would be standing against each other. Lancelot expected your movement and continued to approach you, making you step back until your back hit the cold brick wall.

When you looked him in the eyes you noticed how dark they appeared now, the dimly lit hallway casting shadows on his features.

He kept you in place against the wall with a hand on your waist.

He closed the last bit of space between you, trapping you between him and the wall. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

“What is your command ?” He asked again in a low husky voice, his breath brushing against the top of your hair.

You kept your eyes on his chest as you tried to control your breathing. The effect he had on you was ridiculous. You were so at a loss for words that you couldn't think. His hand squeezed your waist and you jumped a bit in suprise but he still kept you in place.

“I'm waiting..” He breathed, and you could hear he was enjoying this. Enjoying to see you like this, a nervous wreck.

An idea popped up in your head, two can play this game. "I want you to take three steps back." You said in a casual voice still not looking up at him. Lancelot was silent for a moment as he tried to figure out if you were serious or not. He failed to figure it out and his eyes searched for yours now. After another second he narrowed his eyes, realising you were toying with him as well "Three steps ?" You nodded with a blank expression. His gaze went from your eyes to your lips, back up to your eyes in an suggestive way. He quirked a brow and smirked "Are you certain ?" It took all your strength not to lose this little game the second you saw his eyes trail to your lips. "Yes." It was supposed to sound confident but your voice cracked on that one single word. After another second he tilted his head down and took one step back. Before he could take the other two steps you grabbed him and pulled him back to you. Your mouth crashed to his in a desperate matter, and you could feel him smile against your lips.

It was clear who had won this little game. He pushed you back against the wall, breaking the kiss "You said three." "I know. I just didn't think you would actually do it." You panted. He let out a soft scoff and he took a step back while keeping a hand on your waist, gesturing for you to stay put. Then he took two more slow long steps backwards before he made a overly dramatic bow. As he looked back up to you he wondered if he had truly won this little game.

The sight of you standing against the wall with your chest heaving at your every breath was near irresistible to him. There were no winners. You knew it. He knew it. Where he had taken three slow steps away from you he now took two long strides to reach you again. His hand grabbing the back of your head as his lips crashed to yours. He pinned you between him and the wall as his mouth explored yours feverishly. You held unto his chest as his attention moved to your neck. His hand finding it's way under the fabric of your clothes and down your back as he pressed himself even closer against you. A moan escaped you when his hand trailed down to your bottom. Your hands trailed down to his waist, holding onto him as his hands tried to touch any bare skin they could find. Then suddenly you heard a door open and you let out a startled noise. You had been so caught up in the moment that you had almost forgotten that you were in a public area. You wanted to make him step back before you would get caught like this but he hushed you and pushed the both of you closer to the wall. His form covering yours in it's shadow. Some civillians, clearly drunk turned to go into the opposite direction. You waited until they were almost at the other end of the hallway before you whispered against his chest as he kept an eye on the people walking away. You wanted to hide your face from slight embarrasment "We shouldn't be acting like this in public." He found your reaction to the situation quite funny "Why ?" You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat "It's... just... I...people will stare.." "And ?" His voice deadpan. That is when you realised he just did not give a damn if anyone saw. It was as if he wanted everyone to know and perhaps this was because of the dance with the soldier. You looked at him with narrowed eyes "You ARE jealous." By the look on his face you figured out you had guessed it right. He scoffed silently and shook his head "Why should I be ?" You tried to hide the smirk and replied innocently "So you don't mind that others try to woo me then ? Or dance with me ? Or touch me ?" His eyes darkened in response, he lifted your chin with his fingers before gently moving your head backwards to make you look at him "I do mind." To your suprise his tough exterior faltered and you were made aware that he was insecure. It made you feel bad for teasing him. Especially since you had been jealous yourself over someone simply touching his arm. You reached up and cupped his cheek "Forgive me, Lancelot. I am only teasing you." He knew you were but he still found some relief wash over him. He truly feared that one day you might choose someone else instead of him. "I know." His eyes searching yours to once again wash away his self-doubt. You noticed it and cupped his face, reaching up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek. Then he felt your breath brush against his ear as you whispered the words "My heart belongs with you. Never doubt how much I love and care for you." You placed a hand on his chest, where his heart was. Lancelot let out a shuddering breath and placed his hand on top of yours. You felt him kiss the top of your head and a smile tugged at your lips because of it. His other hand moved to caress your cheek "I never knew love until it was all I felt for you, y/n.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek and you felt yourself getting lost in the oceans of his eyes.

“My fey queen..” It was a whisper when it left his lips.

Gods, he looked at you so adoringly that you could only silently look at him.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him as thightly against you as you had the strength for it.

His arms wrapped around you like a protective blanket as he placed a kiss on the side of your head.

“I must confess you are almost my favorite knight.” You smirked against his chest, hiding your face.

He opened his eyes, thinking about that statement “Almost ?”

You pulled back a little to look at him “Almost.”

He stared at you silently “Y/n.”

“Sir Percival is just too delightful.” You deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes but failed to hide the smile “I bet I can change your opinion.”

His hands went to your waist, gripping thightly and he pulled you against him swiftly.

You put your hands on his chest, pushing him away “Oh no, Sir Lancelot. I am returning to the feast and you're coming with me. It is not appropriate to just abandon a feast like this.”

He searched your eyes to see if you were serious, he found no hint of joking and let out a disappointed sigh making you laugh.

You freed yourself from his grip “I am not returning there alone after that display.”

You tilted your head towards the room where the feast was and he reluctantly followed you back inside.

The first half hour was...awkward.

Both of you ignored most of the staring people, but Dahlia would not be ignored and you had a private conversation with her for a bit before returning to the table where Lancelot and Raphael were seated.

You looked around the place, trying to see if you could find Percival in the crowd and to your suprise the boy seemed to actually enjoy dancing with Ayla now.

“He secretly does like her..” You murmered when you took a seat and nodded in Percival's direction.

“I believe he finds her less frightening when she is not handling a sword.” Lancelot chuckled.

“Don't we all ?” You replied as Lancelot's comment made you think back to Crillan who had once been struck by the girl.

He noticed your sudden silence, he touched your arm to pull your attention to him “What's wrong ?”

You quickly shook your head as you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes “Just thinking about Crillan.”

He gave a nod, understanding the cause of your sudden silence now.

“He was the one that convinced me to tell you how I felt about you. That was one of the last things he did..” You let out a breath.

The news came unexpected to him, now he wished he would have had the chance to thank the knight.

“He was a remarkable man. I will try my best to honor him, to honor the title we share.” Lancelot's voice was heavy.

You nodded before taking your tankard in your hands, tonight was a celebration.

Lancelot watched as you stood up and signalled to the musicians.

The musicians stopped and the room went silent apart from some people speaking quietly.

You spoke loud and clear so everyone would hear you.

“People of the city !

Tonight we not only celebrate our victory, we celebrate the life of our lost beloved knight.

Sir Crillan has taught us many things. How to fight, how to be brave in the face of evil..

Tonight we honor him, we honor what he has taught us.

Tonight we celebrate how he would have wanted us to celebrate. With pride, with joy and.."

You now looked at Lancelot "With love.”

His eyes locked on yours for a moment before you turned your attention back on the people, you raised you tankard in the air.

“To Crillan !”

“To Crillan !” The people chanted before the musicians started to play their instruments again.

Dahlia looked at you proudly and send you an approving smile.

“Couldn't have said it better.” Raphael stated to you.

You hummed, promising yourself that tonight you would celebrate life as he would have wanted.

Lancelot didn't speak, your words had made him fall silent. He didn't even notice you were looking at him, it wasn't until he felt you kissing his cheek that he snapped out of his thoughts.

He quirked a brow, pleasantly suprised by the public display of affection.

“I know feasts bore you, but please try to stay awake.” You were being sarcastic.

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. It was meant as a joke but if he was honest, he knew that it wouldn't be long before he would want to leave this feast. He still was not used to being in a crowd long. A few minutes, that was how long it took for him to feel bored to the point that he wished he hadn't send Percival with Ayla to the dancefloor earlier that evening. Sure the boy made life difficult for him from time to time but it at least never bored him. The only thing making it bearable was the fact that you were sitting next to him. But your attention was pulled away from him often as people came to talk to you. He was patient but the boredom left his mind to wander. Perhaps it was the way your eyes seemed full of joy tonight. Perhaps it was the sound of your laughter at someone's joke. Or perhaps it was the fact that people had interupted each and every time he finally had you to himself throughout the day that compelled him to do what he did next.

The unexpected feeling of a hand on your knee made you jump in your chair. Your eyes snapped to Lancelot who seemed far too amused by your reaction. You knew he was brave but never thought he would be this bold. Come to think of it, you should have seen that coming. You were gratefull that no one seemed to have noticed a thing. You grabbed his hand with yours before whispering so only he could hear "Must you torment me so ?" He remained silent for a second before the corner of his mouth twitched "Torment ?" You rolled your eyes before looking at him with a look that said 'you know what I mean'. His eyes sparkled with mischief and he squeezed your hand with his "When is it appropriate for a Queen to leave a feast like this ?" You swallowed hard, knowing damn well why he asked that question.

It was irresistible to mess with him a little now.

"When she wishes to do so." You replied casually. It had been his goal to get you away from this feast and all to himself again. He decided to treat your answer as a challenge. "I see." Lancelot replied in a similar almost formal tone.

His fingers untwined from yours and for a moment you believed he would 'behave'. Gods, were you wrong about that. His hand brushed against your knee along your upper leg before his hand squeezed near your inner thigh. You jolted up in suprise, knocking your knee against the underside of the table in the process. "Lancelot !" Your voice pitched but you were able to keep your voice down to not draw more attention towards yourself. "Y/n ?" Not a hint of guilt in his voice. He looked so pleased with himself. You glared at him, knowing damn well that he was trying to convince you to leave this feast early. For a moment he looked apologetic but a smile tugged at his lips.

His eyes remained on yours as he tilted his head in the direction of the exit of the room. Smirk on his face, but eyes pleading with you. His eyes always betraying how he truly felt. And right now he had difficulty expressing just how touch starved he was. He was about to stop his attempts of persuading you, but then you gave a short nod. It was enough to make his heart start hammering in his chest. You took one last sip of your drink before leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear "I'll leave first. Wait for a bit before following." He nodded in eager agreement "Where shall I meet you ?" You pulled away to look at him before smirking and replying in a hushed voice "Come find me." He let out a chuckle that sounded more like a scoff. Another challenge. And by the gods, would he love to win this one. You talked with Raphael for a moment longer before you excused yourself from the feast. You placed your hand on the walls of the hallways, dragging your fingers along the walls as you walked towards the chambers you used only when you didn't want people to bother you. You rarely slept there but sometimes it was nice to have a room only a few people knew about. A safe room of sorts, hidden in plain sight behind an old shelf that moved like a door. You wondered if he would be able to find you.

He waited for a few minutes after you had left, taking the time to ask Raphael if he could keep an eye on Percival. The knight just nodded, needing nor wanting any further explanation. When he stepped into the hallway he knew he'd have to use his sense of smell to find you. He walked through the hallway for a bit before his fingers traced the wall. The corner of his mouth curved up. Your scent was not hard to find or recognise. It was etched upon his fondest memories. He found himself strolling through hallways he had not been in before until he had to move some paces back because he had lost the scent. He looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the place. It had stopped in the middle of the hallway as if you had disappeared in thin air. What kind of trick were you playing on him ? After what felt like almost a minute his eyes lingered on a shelf that just didn't seem to truly fit the place and he headed towards it. Now the scent returned to him, stronger then it had been before. Smart. He thought. His fingers traced along the edge of the shelf until they found what he was looking for, a small metal lever. Instead of using the small lever and opening the hidden passageway he knocked on the shelf.

Your heart jumped at the sound, silently impressed that he had actually found the room. Only Raphael, Crillan and Dahlia knew of this room after you had told them about it. But he found it himself. You walked to the door and moved the lever on the inside, opening the door. Your eyes met his, he had a somewhat proud expression. "A hidden room ? Impressive." He stepped towards you. "Not so well hidden if you found it that easily." You quirked a brow at him. He moved the door open further and snuck an arm around your waist. Moving you as he stepped inside the room before closing the door and moving you back up against it. "I only found it because your scent led me here." Both his hands were on your waist now as he burried his nose into the top of your hair. Your mouth twitched into a smile "What do I smell like ? My.. fey scent ?" Your curiousity got the best of you. He was silent for a moment as he tried to find the words to describe it. "Like dust after rain.." He pauzed "But it carries something within it. I can sense it whenever you use your magic to control the wind." You looked at him now, searching his eyes "..What does it carry ?" His eyes softened and he leaned in close to your neck. Lingering there before answering. "Something ethereal.."

He looked you in the eyes now, leaning in so his lips were hovering over yours. His voice hoarse “Something that calls to me.”

Gods, the way his voice sounded made you start to tremble with silent anticipation. He tilted his head to place a kiss to your forehead. Not where you wanted but very welcome either way. You placed your hands on his chest and tugged him closer. He knew what you were trying to communicate with that, his lips brushed the skin near your temple next. He heard how your breathing was becoming faster.

Then they brushed against your jaw, followed quickly by your cheek.

Lingering just a little on those spots everytime he touched your skin.

It was driving you insane how he was purposly ignoring the place you wanted his lips most “If you intend to keep tormenting me like this then I will leave.”

It caught him off-guard but he noted the light tone in your voice and then you slipped out of his grasp and tried to step away to show him you were 'serious'.

He nearly rolled his eyes as he smirked and pulled you back to him, making you stumble and crash into his chest. You didn't get the chance to cuss as his lips were on yours right away, for a moment he pulled away. Looking at you for confirmation, which must have been clearly visible on your expression. And he pulled you in again, claiming your mouth again. Intense and filled with the desire that had build up within him today. It wasn't until he heard the soft moan fall from your lips that he began to fumble with your clothing.

Which proved.. difficult apparently. And after a moment of fumbling without much progress he looked at you a little lost.

“Not your area of expertise yet ?” You asked playfully and quirked a brow at him.

The look in his eyes made you regret saying it, and before you realised what was happening he had picked you up from the floor in one swift move. You let out a suprised gasp as he carried you and dropped you on the bed. Within seconds he was hovering above you.

“I wish your voice would be the first thing I hear tomorrow.” It sounded almost like a prayer.

And secretly to him it was, he prayed you wouldn't be gone in the morning this time.

That you would stay with him a little longer.

You fingers brushed over his cheek, tracing the fey marks below his eyes.

“What should I say then ? Tomorrow, I mean.” You asked and you saw him smile so brightly that it made his eyes glister.

He traced a finger over your lips as he thought “Anything, as long as you're still with me when I awake.”

You nodded, falling silent the moment he leaned in to kiss your neck.

When morning came Lancelot was delighted to see that you were still next to him. It was not long before you awoke and when you opened your eyes they sought out his.

Instead of wishing him a good morning or asking him if he slept well you said the one thing he so desired to hear.

“I love you.”

Taglist:

@linkpk88​​ @5am-cigarette​​  @beananacake​​ @mogothepogo​​ @tanyaherondale​​ @witchything​​  @slytherlight​​ @herstory-study​ @petersoftboyparker @lancelotapricot​

[evarcana]

You gave us a moodboard for it but now we want the written tea... Tell us about Ev and Valerius's wedding 💕🥰 (bonus points if it includes behind the scenes)

Aaaaawww💕

Ok, I freaking love this moodboard so you all will have to see it again

Ev x Valerius Wedding

Unapologetically long text under the cut

Wedding preparations

Most of the wedding planning and preparations were done by Nadia and the palace. The couple had ‘a vision’ and Nadia seemed to be the best person to take care of the execution - she was rather excited.

Valerius told everybody that he decides on wine and the ceremony location, passed the list of guests from his side and did his best to appear as busy as possible to avoid any further involvement.

Ev told everybody that she was not a control freak (lol) and felt pretty relaxed about the whole thing. The very same evening Portia had to check every envelope with the wedding invitations and remove personalised notes which were clearly added to some of the invites by Ev. Few examples include: “please try not to get shitfaced at our wedding”, “kindly be advised that the wedding dress code includes (emphasised) a bra”, and “please don’t feel pressured to attend”. Extra ‘0’ also appeared in the quantity section of Valerius’s wine order (not like he complained)

Talking about ‘pretty relaxed’ - as soon as post hen/bachelorette party haze had cleared in Ev’s head, she realised that she did not enjoy public attention that much and she was mildly terrified of the idea of half of (in fact, more like whole of) Vesuvia being aware of her personal life. Strangely enough, she did not have this thought earlier, when the massive banner “That B*tch is getting hitched! Closed on xx.xx - private hire for Ev’s party" appeared above the Rowdy Raven's entrance the very moment some of the ‘bridesmaids’ were given a green light about the party. Anyway, the panic continued...

Valerius was ...nervous. Not like he started doubting the whole decision but he suddenly started thinking that nothing was done right. Were they courting long enough before? Not long enough but went too far? He didn’t ask her parents first - now, forget the courting, that was bad. Where were her parents anyway?

When Ev’s parents actually arrived, Valerius wished she didn’t get in touch with her family for the first time in like 10 years. Why did her family suddenly have so many wedding traditions, the majority of which involved either doing something ridiculous for Ev’s mum or drinking with her father..? ‘Foreign customs’ Valerius had to repeat to himself.

So to make at least something right, he decided that they couldn’t see each other the day before the wedding. And maybe not to stay in the same bedroom for few nights, just to be sure?! Did they spend at least three days arguing about it? They certainly did.

The day of the wedding

The morning of the wedding Ev got separation anxiety a strange feeling that Valerius would not turn up on time- he most definitely got drunk and slept in, she thought. Everybody was telling her that Valerius had never been late in his life but it was not convincing enough for her. She kept demanding wine for nerves and that somebody go to check on him. Why did they not allocate an ‘escort’ for the groom? This was a very good question, somehow everybody presumed that Valerius would have..friends? Or that somebody would volunteer? Didn’t happen. Somehow the only available individual who was not busy and somewhat fit for the job turned out to be ... Valdemar?! Valdemar didn’t care and didn’t want to move an inch until they heard Ev’s “and if the busta - *everybody’s wild protests* tries to run away, you can drag him to dungeons and I don’t care what you do !!!” - *sparkles in the red eyes* “as the bride wishes” - Valdemar was on the way.

Valerius was actually ready when Valdemar arrived, and wasn’t in the particularly bad state - he only verbally abused his servants the entire morning, but when it was time to leave, the signature look of complete disinterest was back. The only Valdemar’s contribution to the wedding was that they removed the wine glass from Valerius’s hand on the way out of the estate.

The ceremony was taking place in one of Vesuvia’s many temples, which was chosen by Valerius. It was the same temple his parents got married in. The formal part of the ceremony (much to Vlastomil’s relief) was to be conducted by Nadia (who also did a very long poetry reading nobody asked for) and the temple official.

Valerius was waiting at the temple’s entrance for Ev to arrive as they were to walk ‘down the aisle’ together. All of the guests has already gathered inside and even outside of temple. Valerius was lost in thoughts wondering what kind of gossip was going around the rows of nobles when Ev’s carriage arrived. Was he left speechless when he saw Ev? Yes and no, he hadn’t actually thought about what she would look like on the wedding day but somehow presumed that for the wedding of this scale the dress would be more extravagant - it was surprisingly simple, all beige only with the glint of gold coming through the lace on the chest and waist, but it was elegant, so very her and looked bare on her body. Luckily the walk from the carriage to the temple entrance was not long, and his thoughts didn’t wonder too far.

The moment they stepped inside and made the first step towards the altar, an audible gasp echoed across the temple: the large room was now filled with delicate clouds glimmering gold and the water started flooding the way to the altar. Valerius gave Ev questioning look, he would of preferred to be notified of any kind of witchcraft in advance. But it was not planned by her - it was a surprise present from Ev’s parents who were keen to make a statement about the bride’s family heritage. The look of the couple literally walking on water reflecting the warm light of many temple’s candles certainly made an impact. Ev had to gently squeeze Valerius’s hand for reassurance.

They both were wearing the golden leaf wreath like headpieces which were to be tied together with red ribbon during the ceremony - as it was the tradition from where Ev was coming from.

The vows were formal (though Ev’s voice was still trembling and people in the front rows might of noticed tears in her eyes) and the kiss was rather modest. As soon as they were pronounced husband and wife, the shimmering clouds cleared, the temple interior suddenly became brighter and thousands of red rose petals became falling from the temple’s dome. On that point Valerius decided that he rather enjoyed all those magical dramatic touches - being married to the witch wasn’t that bad after all.

The celebration and the party part was in the palace. The palace’s ballroom and garden were decorated gold with the touches of red. The palace’s stuff were slightly bewildered by the sheer quantity of wine but the guests loved it. Ev and Valerius spent most of the time politely greeting the guests. At least 10 people were instructed to count how many glasses they had. It was rather tame in the beginning. Everybody was strictly prohibited from telling any even slightly embarrassing stories about the newly weds.

The couple disappeared for a little more than once during the celebration, coming back and pretending that they’ve been there the whole time and whoever was stupid enough to ask question just had too many.

Valerius and Ev left the celebration early and missed some of the highlights of their wedding, like: Ev’s dad, Namar and almost all of the bridal party doing twerk battle, Nadia’s face when Valerius’s mother was criticising the colour of tablecloths, Julian setting the curtains on fire with the fireworks and half of the guests trying to stop the fire with wine - hey there was clearly more wine than water at that wedding.

They were glad that they did not hesitate to leave early - it took Valerius at least 20 minutes to undo all those torturous buttons at the back of Ev’s dress.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 39

I woke up wrapped in the security of Bucky’s arms - and wearing my nightclothes which I have to admit took a few extra beats to catch up to remembering the cause - but his lips were on mine and it didn’t matter why.  Nightclothes, late nights, even gunshot victims sleeping their pain meds off on our couch didn’t matter - not when Bucky was kissing me awake.  

“Brooke!,” the tiny voice that called my name had both mine and Bucky’s eyes snapping open and widening. “Buck kissed you up like Rora in Sleepin’ Beauty.” And then a round of toddler giggles that had both of us pulling away with what I had to think was a silent prayer of gratitude for our fucking nightclothes.  

There, with her tiny chin propped on Bucky’s side of our bed and her dark eyes staring up at us, was Bryn.  And now that we were WIDE awake, I could hear voices downstairs - and if I wasn’t completely fucking insane - I was hearing MORE than just Connie and Sharon’s.  

While I kept Bryn occupied, Bucky slid out of my side of the bed.  A three year old does NOT need to see what Bucky Barnes is packing early in the morning, trust me.  I pulled her up into the bed with me and grabbed the remote to the TV.

“What do you want to watch?”  After putting it on her favorite early morning cartoon, I settled back against the headboard and smiled when I realized that Byrn had compared Bucky to a prince.  “Bryn?”  She hummed and I slid my fingers through her loose curls.  “What’s the prince’s name in Sleeping Beauty?”

“Phillip.” It didn’t come from Bryn.  It came from the doorway and a very masculine voice.  I glanced over to where Bucky stood, fully dressed now and I grinned with a raised eyebrow.  “What? She told me while we were talking about her dolls and our tea party.”  

I nodded and he came over to join us.  “Did you do any recon?”  He snorted.  “What would you call it? Super sneaky Winter Soldier ninja snooping?”  

Shaking his head, he kissed me again.  “I did.”  He sighed.  “Sam, Chris, Carrie, Connie, and Sharon.”  I knew my eyes were wide enough to be in threat of falling out of my head, but for fuck’s sake.  “Come on, Bryn,” he held out his arms and she hopped up and jumped into them.  “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can get some breakfast ready for Brooke while she gets ready for the day.”  

I contemplated staying in bed.  Our house had been invaded - and while I’d sworn that I’d answer my phone and door, I hadn’t been given the OPTION of answering - they’d just barged right the fuck in.  Giving myself about five minutes to stew and wallow, I finally rolled out of bed and grabbed some clothes to toss on.  A stop in the bathroom to brush my hair and my teeth and then downstairs to meet the invaders.

They were in the kitchen - ALL of them.  Gathered around the table and island, watching as Bucky worked on another omelet - omelets I corrected as I came in and moved closer to him.  Sam was drinking coffee, and I almost asked where he’d gotten it since he was drinking out of one of my mugs, but then I noticed that someone had started up my parents’ coffee maker.  I hadn’t tossed it out, of course I also didn’t buy coffee for it - Connie shook her head and nodded toward the bags of groceries that she’d clearly put away before we woke up.

“Morning,” I greeted our guests, “everyone.” Started strong, but the landing left something to be desired.  “To what do we owe this -”

“Well,” Connie came over and wrapped her arm around my neck.  “I knew that you probably hadn’t had a chance to go shopping for groceries since you got back.” Whispering very quietly in my ear that she knew exactly WHY I hadn’t and she APPROVED of why.  “I thought I’d do a run while Bryn and I were out -”

“We saw how much she grabbed and -” Chris volunteered, grins growing.  Such good samaritans and great friends.   “We couldn’t let her struggle.  She had her own stuff, yours, AND Bryn.”  

Carried piped up, “we stopped by her house and dropped hers off first.  When we got here, Sam had just arrived.”  She was beaming - and why not?  She just met the new Captain America, after all.  

“Since I have a key for emergencies,” Connie finished the tale with a shrug.  

I nodded.  “You have a key for emergencies and groceries are an emergency.”  Bucky’s shoulders were shaking, and I knew he was enjoying this shit immensely.  “And letting Captain America in - I mean, I’m sure he made it sound like it was an emergency.”  

Sam was taking a drink when I said it and he snorted, spewing coffee just a bit.  “Don’t make it sound like I was being all sneaky or something, Brooke.” He sputtered.  

I raised an eyebrow and reached for one of my tea towels.  Tossing it to him, I waited while he cleaned up.  “It’s broad daylight, I highly doubt you were being sneaky, Sam.”  He nodded.  “So?” 

“So?”  Confusion glowed on his face. 

“The reason for your visit?”  

“Ah,” I shook my head as realization dawned on his face.  “Sarah -” shit the print, but he went on.  “She and I wanted to invite you and Bucky to a celebration back home.”  

They were planning on a huge party in Delacroix - and for good reason - hometown boy makes VERY good.  And now that they weren’t selling the boat, or house, I could see why they’d want to have a party. Bucky glanced at me over his shoulder, wanting my input on whether we should go or not, but in this instance the ball was in his court.  

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, plating our breakfast - for all eight of us - and lining them up on the island for us to carry into the dining room.  “We’ll drive down.”

“Drive?”  Sam was curious, carrying his plate and refilled cup of coffee into the dining room.  “Renting a car instead of flying?”  

We settled around the table and I shook my head when Bucky moved to sit at one of the sides.  “Head, Bucky.”  His eyes went wide, but I stood firm.  OUR house, and he was the man of it.  Everyone waited to tuck in until he sat, and then I took my seat.  “Yes, drive, Sam.”  I smiled across the table at Bucky, who was staring at me like he was amazed by me again.  “We like to take our time - Bucky and me.”  That got a few chuckles, but then everyone took a bite of their food and suddenly no one was laughing - because once again they were surprised by Bucky Barnes.  

Our guests didn’t stay too long.  Bryn understood that it wasn’t the day for our tea party, since she hadn’t brought along any princesses for it.  I watched as Bucky got down on his knee to have a long conversation with her - privately, they told the rest of us, and I smiled when she hugged him tight at the end of it.  

“I think Bucky has a fan,” Sam was beside me, watching Bryn with Bucky.  “Seeing him like this -”

I felt my smile growing. I loved hearing anyone’s tone change to reflect them seeing him in a new light.  “You think this is the Bucky that Steve knew, don’t you?”  He hummed an affirmative.  “It is,” I bit my lip as Buck turned, his gaze meeting mine.  “He’s always been there, Sam.  Just took him a little longer to surface than he expected.”  Bucky came closer to include me in Bryn’s goodbye hug, and got me to promise her that sleepover too, despite my misgivings.  A kiss to her soft cheek and she was handed off to Connie.  

“We’ll let you two get back to -” I rolled my eyes as Connie waggled her eyes in her attempt at being suggestive.  “Bye, Brookie.” She was grinning when she gave Bucky his own parting, then Chris and Carrie gave us a less gregarious, but no less friendly goodbye, leaving just Sharon and Sam behind.  

“And then there were two,” I murmured, getting a chuckle from Bucky, coupled with a soft sigh.  

“I heard that,” Sam offered, carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen and shooting Sharon a dirty look when she hissed while she tried to grab some to help.  “Sit your wounded ass down.”  

She glared at him, but with a hand on her side, complied.  “Hey,” I got her attention and tilted my head toward the hall bathroom.  “Want me to have a peek at your bandage?”  

“Do you have -” she bit her lip, and I nearly laughed at her conundrum.  Does she insult me by asking if I have first aid experience after I gave her clothing and a roof over her head or does she humor me?  

“I took some classes,” I assured her.  “My parents liked to make sure all the bases were covered.”  Helping her carefully to her feet, I got her to the bathroom where one of the many family first aid kits lived.  Opening it up and setting it on the countertop, I saw her eyes widen.  “I told you - my parents liked to keep the bases covered.”  Our first aid kits weren’t something you bought at a local pharmacy or online.  “Mom was an RN,” I gestured for her to take her place on the toilet seat again.  “She made sure to keep me up to date on my safety classes.”  Every CPR class, first aid requirement, and anything else she imagined a layperson might need - she signed me up for.  I helped Sharon with the loose shirt Bucky had grabbed out of my drawer, and smiled at the wrapping the ER had put on her wound.  “Good news,” I bent down and took a closer look.  “You haven’t started bleeding through the packing and wraps, so I don’t have to rewrap you.” She sighed and I chuckled.  “Damn it,” I glanced up to see her looking down at me wearily.  “I kind of hoped to use you for practice.”  

She shook her head and a tiny smile threatened to creep onto her lips.  “It hurts like hell though.”  She started to pull the shirt back into place.  “Gonna make getting back on the road a trial,” I was just opening my mouth to tell her she didn’t have to rush when she stopped me.  “Thank you, Brooke, for your and Bucky’s generosity and hospitality, but trust me, I should go - and soon.”  

I nodded, standing up to help her to her feet.  She was taller than me, just like every other person in my life.  “Take my number,” I watched as she pulled a phone from her pocket and I rattled off the number while she tapped it into the contacts.  “If you need me or us -”

“Thank you,” she smiled, a small one, but I thought it might be genuine.  “Steve would have liked you.”  

“So I’ve heard,” I shook my head and put the first aid kit away.  “Do you need another change of clothes?”  Sharon wouldn’t hear of taking more from me, and insisted that she had a car coming to take her away.  “If you’re sure -”

“I am.” We left the bathroom to the sounds of Bucky and Sam in the kitchen, soft music not hiding the sounds of them bickering over how to fill the dishwasher.  “You’re going to have your hands full.”  

“Yeah, I do,” I agreed, shaking my head as I listened to the two of them, their back and forth, and thinking that they sounded more and more like brothers.  “I think they’re getting more -”

“Partners,” Sharon nodded.  “They’re a team now.”  

“Scary.” I heard a soft knock on the door and Bucky’s head appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.  “I think -”

“It’s for me,” Sharon offered, hand back on her wound.  “Time for me to go.”  

“You sure?”  It was Sam who asked, coming up on Bucky’s left, arms crossed over his chest.  “You could stay, I could always -”

“I think you’re making enough waves, Cap.”  I bit my lip at Sharon using the nickname so soon.  “I can wait for my pardon.”  She was moving toward the living room, with me behind her in case she stumbled.  “I’ll just grab my small pile of stuff and be out of your way.”  She grabbed her clothes - the ones she’d changed out of and turned to find me waiting at a close distance.  “Hovering?  That’s a very Steve Rogers trait, Brooke.”  I rolled my eyes.  “I’ll be fine,” she assured me, moving her hand from the bandaged side and sighing.  “Keep those two out of trouble.”

“Yeah, right.”  I muttered, opening my arms, thinking what the hell - a hug was warranted.  She allowed it, awkward though it was.  “Stay safe, Sharon.”  

“I’ll try.” She murmured. “You too, ok?”  

I nodded and then she pulled away.  I busied myself with the living room while she said her goodbyes to Sam and Bucky, thinking that less was more in the case of Sharon Carter leaving our house.  I had just folded up the blanket and put it with the pillow when I heard the front door open and close.  

“And then there was one,” Bucky murmured, wrapping his arms around me.  “What do you think the chances are that Sam goes home to prepare for the celebration and lets us follow behind?”

“Slim and none,” Sam offered, leaning against the archway between the living room and the entryway.  “Sarah doesn’t need me to plan a party, and I have a couple loose ends to tie up here in NYC, so -”

“Don’t put away the blanket and pillow, Brooke,” Bucky kissed my cheek.  “The couch has a new guest.”

[wanna-b-poet31]

Aziraphale and Food

So, stick with me for a moment: Why do we almost universally essentialize Aziraphale into a glutton? 

Like yes, he eats, and yes, to our knowledge he’s the only known celestial creature (Christs and Anti-Christs notwithstanding) to eat on screen, but he never really eats to excess. In fact, I don’t think he eats food because he’s a hedonist (I mean he is a hedonist, but maybe not for this), BUT rather because it provides him an excuse to be with Crowley. 

Sounds ridiculous right? It shouldn’t be right, right? We see Aziraphale eat alot over the course of the show, we see him enjoy eating, and we never see Crowley eat ever. So, it can’t all just be a ploy to be with Crowley?  Right?

I mean he certainly enjoys eating, I’m not fool enough to say he isn’t getting any pleasure from dining out.  Just look at his face as he appreciates the sushi! Joy! 

And this calm, happiness follows Aziraphale when later in Ep. 1, Crowley takes him to the Ritz in an attempt to persuade him to save the world.  And, to celebrate surviving the end of the world with his boyfriend best friend, the first thing they do once they’re free, really free of Heaven and Hell and their abusers, is going to the Ritz. 

So I’m not proposing that Aziraphale doesn’t eat, or that he doesn’t get any enjoyment from eating >I mean look at how his face falls he is When Gabriel asks why he’s eating food, proceeding to call it “gross matter”, and eating it “sullies” his heavenly temple.  It’s straight-up heartbreak, as Aziraphale glances down at his spicy tuna roll.  (and let’s not forget or excuse that what Gabriel is doing here is abusive) <

However, if Aziraphale’s interest in food is simply selfish or gluttonous, then we must have seen him eat plenty of times without Crowley or the expectation that eating would be a vehicle for their social interaction.

We don’t.

AZIRAPHALE + SUSHI

Just think back to the above scene that establishes Aziraphale’s character. 

This is the only scene with Aziraphale and food that does not include Crowley. And sure, he is alone in a sushi place, before being rudely interrupted by Gabriel’s garbage attitude. Crowley doesn’t isn’t there now, he’s not ducking under the table, or jumping out the window, or materializing himself anywhere else but there to avoid being seen by Heaven. So, clearly, this must be proof of Aziraphale’s undying attachment to food. 

Case Closed.  Diagnosis: Gluttony plain and simple.

However, if this is true, how do we explain his peculiar behavior in this restaurant? 

For starters, immediately after receiving his food, he’s striking a conversation with the chef -- a chef who knows his NAMEd, not Mr. Fell, not some pseudonym, not simply addressing him like another customer, but as a friend (at least an acquaintance).  Perhaps even more telling is not that Aziraphale and the Chef know each other, but that Aziraphale -- I’m a bit out of Practice is French IN FRANCE -- has gone out of his way to learn Japanese to converse with this person, treating him with the respect of a friend, not someone who is here simply for food alone. This is social. 

Then there is a small chime, indicating a supernatural presence has entered the building. (We hear the same chime when Crowley rescues his ass from a guillotine) And notice how unsurprised he is by the sudden supernatural presence. He’s expecting a guest.

Couple this information with Crowley’s behavior at the graveyard (he acts like he wants to get the hell out of Dodge even before he’s tasked with delivering the Anti-christ like he’s got a prior engagement) and the knowledge that the A40 goes straight through Soho.  

I think it’s reasonable to conclude that he’s expecting Crowley. 

Notice how he pointedly looks to his left upon hearing the magical chime.  We see in the next (below) shot, that he’s not turning to the door, but to a mirror.  So why look there if not because Crowley always is on his right?

His face instantly drops and an overjoyed expectant look turns to a terse, forced polite smile when he sees Gabriel, not Crowley, has joined him. And while he defends eating, we don’t see him eat (even after Gabriel leaves). I think, perhaps unintentionally, this is the scene that tells us why Aziraphale eats. 

Pretext.

AZIRAPHALE’S SOCIAL CALL, CROWLEY’S BUSINESS DEAL

Let’s look at the first time (temporally) we see Aziraphale broach the idea of food. In the early years and in Heaven, Aziraphale doesn’t volunteer any interest in food or social interaction. However, in Rome, things are clearly different.

>check out where I purpose Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley in Rome here<.

Notice how in the opening shot, Aziraphale isn’t eating. There’s no drink in his hand, no grapes in his mouth, nothing to indicate that he has been eating, or socializing.  When suddenly!! He hears a voice, and stops, his game piece hovering over the board as he realizes Crowley is nearby. 

Only when after he approaches Crowley, does food enter the conversation Hearing Crowley order gives him the perfect in, the clearly acceptable, casual social relationship that no one could question.  He can see that Crowley, like him, has changed and that the demon is giving him limited responses, barely joining the conversation. 

Aziraphale tries-- he honest to God tries -- to start a conversation without pretext, without some kind of excuse to join in the welcome, and frankly comforting, company.  He asks “still a demon” trying, oh so haphazardly, to make it about work, kind of like when someone is asking you about the weather, and it blows up in his face, earning him the wrath of his friend. He simply can’t be the one to initiate business conversations because it, as a pretext for their relationship, is always off the mark, and comes across as dismissive of Crowley’s demon identity. 

Only when he talks about food does he manage to get Crowley to open up, and accept his presence. He gives Aziraphale the all-clear to continue talking to him, and Aziraphale fucking jumps on it.  It’s extra fascinating how both parties leave this scene with two radically different uses for food. For Aziraphale, it is a safe pretext to get Crowley to open up, but for Crowley, it seems to be Aziraphale’s main interest, not him. 

Crowley also doesn’t seem to get that Aziraphale is not equipped to talk shop, and needs the security in being in a sanctioned social interaction.  Friendly talks like the ones they’d shared earlier were comforting to Aziraphale, getting him to open up in a way that no other character had successfully managed.  He means for this, and more importantly, he NEEDS this to be social. To be a kind of friendship, partnership, that he doesn’t get from Heaven. There’s security in being casual, social, and nothing more than that. 

However, Crowley can’t talk about himself in any meaningful way. He mentions he’s never had oysters before, his sarcasm missing Aziraphale only to have him be surprised when Aziraphale tries one last jab at the business talk. The “let me tempt you” gets his attention, but he doesn’t relax until Aziraphale, “no, I suppose that’s your job”, or when Aziraphale diverts the conversation back into their work.  

Both walk away from this conversation thinking “yes, I know how to talk to him now” Except, they don’t. Aziraphale doesn’t recognize Crowley uses their work as a catalyst, and Crowley doesn’t recognize that for Aziraphale food is a catalyst, not the product, he desires. 

A MISCOMMUNICATION

When Crowley asks for a “favor”, a work lunch, we can see how the two fundamentally misunderstand how food is being used, and how the other thinks food is being used.

The whole exchange about the crepes, boils down to Crowley opening the door with “remember that work favor?” and Aziraphale responding with “I don’t remember the work pretext, but I remember sharing crepes with you”. 

Notice it’s not I had crepes, nor is it a focus on the food itself. It is Aziraphale emphasizing the shared part of the shared experience, not the details (which we get to see by the way) of being rescued or of accusing Crowley of starting the revolution, and Crowley explaining that neither side had started it, but the humans had.  All Aziraphale cares about is their relationship, but can only safely use food as his point of reference because it allows him to share time with Crowley.  

Contrast this with how Crowley’s perspective. Even just asking if it was one of Heaven’s or Hell’s is cementing the conversation as a work lunch, reminding Aziraphale (and perhaps himself) that they’re only allowed a professional relationship, not a social one, and he gives himself the pretext of work.  Neither recognizes that there is a cross in the symbolism. 

THE SHIFT

Things do shift, at least for Aziraphale, and food works a second role. Romance.

In the 60′s Aziraphale doubles down on using food to facilitate his relationship with Crowley because now he explicitly us that, “He can’t have [Crowley] risking [his] life, not even for something dangerous” which I think means “I’m afraid of our relationship without the pretext and safety that food has provided us me.” The danger is having their mutual feelings of love being discovered, so he’ll give Crowley the holy water as a symbol of that trust.  

But when he continues as uses food to roadmap a relationship free of the pretext, “Maybe one day we’ll go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz” is indeed a literal example of what their relationship could be but it also acts as a promise that “Maybe, one day we can go on a picnic, or dine at the Ritz without the excuses, and simply be us enjoying food, not us using food as a safety net”. It’s a road map that he will continue with the pretext, and he’s alright if Crowley is tired of using it to be around each other, but he needs it, not always, not forever, but for now, it allows him the comfort that he is protecting Crowley’s safety (as well as himself). 

Crowley counters this moment with, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go”  which I argue translates into “I will dismiss the pretext now in a heartbeat, I’m not afraid of the consequences, I could ‘eat’ with you now”, but Aziraphale can’t risk it. “You Go too Fast for me Crowley” is a warning that he can’t have Crowley risking his life for him. We talk often about how Crowley has self-esteem issues, but so does Aziraphale, he does not see himself as being worthy of such a risk. So, he needs the pretense of food to function without (much) worry about what Hell would do to Crowley if they were discovered. 

Unfortunately, they’re not speaking the same symbolic language, and as pointed out earlier, their wires are crossed. 

CONCLUSION 

In the beginning of the show, Crowley uses “no more fascinating little restaurants where everyone knows your name” specifically as a selling point, appealing to his presumption that Aziraphale’s love of food outweighs his love of the demon. He’s seen Aziraphale eat, and enjoy himself, clearly, at least Crowley thinks this tactic is reason enough to get Aziraphale to stay.  Which points to the fatal flaw of Crowley’s reasoning.  He only uses it because saying “we’ll never be able to talk to each other again” doesn’t even register as something he can say because he doesn’t value himself as enough for Aziraphale to consider saving the world. Food, however? Food has acted as a catalyst for understanding, but Crowley mistranslates “catalyst” for “produce” and presumes that because Aziraphale uses food to talk to him, he must love food, and not him. He’s wrong.

It’s not until they both throw out pretext and realize “shit, the song and dances we’ve been doing have not allowed us to rely on each other in the way we need” that they can move forward. And, after Armagedon’t they do just that, leaving the garden, and the remnants of their loyalties to other parties, and dropping all pretext, and just enjoying each other’s company as equals. 

Ending the series at the Ritz, celebrating their closeness is likely not the last time they’ll ever share a meal, but it is likely the last time they will under the pretense that food is Aziraphale’s central desire and not Crowley.  Sure, food is something Aziraphale mostly enjoys, but it no longer is an excuse. If he eats, it’s for enjoyment and personal choice, not a means for hiding or protecting Crowley anymore. And for Crowley, “tempting” Aziraphale to a bite of lunch without the expectation of a favor, or repaying a favor, removes his similar reservations about pretext. He no longer has to rely on work to simply “be” with Aziraphale. 

TLDR: Aziraphale uses food as a social excuse to spend time with Crowley

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, next time I’ll write too much about Crowley and retraumatization

[flowerfan2]

The Whipped Cream Incident

McDanno, 3k, A03, M

Summary:  Pretty much what it says on the tin... the story of the whipped cream incident, as referred to in Risky Business (although you don’t have to have read that story to enjoy this one).

Steve’s had just enough whiskey to feel comfortably warm, when for some inexplicable reason, he blurts it out.

 Danny’s eyes go wide, and Steve kind of forgets what he just said.  Danny’s eyes are crazy blue right now, picking up the color of his shirt.  He takes Steve’s breath away.  

 Danny moves closer to Steve, poking him with a finger until he focuses.  “Steven. What are you talking about? Slowly, this time.  Like a human.”

 Steve aims a serious look at Danny. He loves it when Danny pretends Steve is a Neanderthal.  It’s charming.  “I just said I hadn’t done it before you, that’s all.”

 Danny narrows his baby blues at Steve. “Done what?”

 “Sex with a guy.”  Steve doesn’t understand why Danny looks so surprised. He’d thought it had been pretty obvious, what with being completely closeted for so many years, and most of those in the military.

 Danny abruptly stands up.  “You maybe should have mentioned this,” he says, waving an arm around.  “We’ve been together for weeks.  Months-”

 “One month, three weeks, two days,” Steve corrects him.  “If you count from that first kiss in the hospital.  If you count from when we got to Kono’s-”

 Danny glares at him.  “You should have said something.”  

 “Why?  Does it matter?”  Steve pushes down a pang of hurt.  

 A look that Steve absolutely cannot interpret flashes across Danny’s face, and then Danny shakes his head and sighs.

 “No, of course not.  Of course not.  But we will be talking about this later.  When we are less…”  Danny waves his hand around, apparently indicating their general state of inebriation.

 Steve grins, nodding.  Fine with him.  Danny grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him upright.  Steve presses himself up against Danny’s muscled chest and is rewarded with a long, whiskey sloppy kiss.

 “Mmm,” Danny says, briefly going boneless against him.  “Let’s go upstairs and lie down before we fall down, sound good?”  

 Steve drapes an arm around Danny’s waist as they make haste towards the stairs.  “Aye aye, sir.”

 *****

In the morning, Steve wakes early and goes for a swim, as he usually does.  Unfortunately instead of clearing his mind, it gives him too much time to think.

 He doesn’t really believe Danny could be mad at him for not being experienced with guys.  But it could be something related, something about identity, and that’s always a hard subject, especially for Steve, who has avoiding thinking about it for most of his life.

 Although Danny has always played it close to the chest too.  As far as Steve knows, none of their friends or teammates knew that Danny was bi until he and Steve got together.  

 Danny has told Steve about how he dated a guy in college, and he and Danny spent one memorable evening on the beach talking about their male celebrity crushes, but Steve has never volunteered many details about his own sexual history.  There’s not much to tell, at least not where guys are concerned.

 When Steve gets back to shore Danny is there, smiling softly as he hands him the towel Steve left on the sand.

 “Morning, handsome,” Danny says, stretching up to kiss Steve’s damp face.  

 Steve feels a rush of warmth, and bumps his shoulder against Danny’s as they walk back to the house.  Danny’s not mad, of course not.  Although the fact that Danny’s already got breakfast laid out on the table on the lanai may be a signal that they’re about to have a <i>talk.</i>  Steve figures he might as well head it off, so they can get back to enjoying their weekend.

 “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but it’s true.  I’ve never had sex with a guy before.”

 “Okay,” Danny says mildly, sitting down at the table and stirring some sugar into his coffee.

 “Why did you think I did?”

 Danny stretches out his feet in front of him.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out.  I think it was when we were at Kono’s, one of those first nights, sitting outside in her backyard.  Remember?”

 Steve thinks back fondly to the misty garden behind Kono’s little Seattle home.  “Yeah, I remember.”

 “We were kissing,” Danny says, “and you said you forgot the feel of it.”  Danny leans over and rubs Steve’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Stubble, you said something like you forgot what it felt like to kiss someone with stubble, but you liked it.” Danny cups his hand around Steve’s jaw and smiles.  “So we kissed some more.”

 Steve feels himself blush.  “I did like it.”  He takes a sip from coffee that Danny has left black, just as he prefers. “And I have kissed guys before. Two, actually.”

 “But you never went any further, is that it?”

 Steve nods.  “Yeah.  One was in high school – just a make-out session under the bleachers, very cliché. He wouldn’t give me the time of day the next morning in class, and then I moved to the mainland not long afterwards.”

 “And the second?”

 Steve shrugs.  “Another teams guy.  Years and years ago.  We actually probably would have gone further, we were drunk and stupid with it, but we got interrupted.”

 Danny looks concerned.  “Did you get into trouble?”

 “Nah, no one saw anything.  But it put the fear of god into me, you know? I couldn’t let DADT ruin my career.”

 “So you stuck to women.”

 “Or, you know, just doing my job.”

 Danny looks sad for a moment, and Steve braces himself for another round of <i>poor Steve, he doesn’t let anybody in, too focused on his work to find someone to love,</i> but Danny doesn’t go there.

 “But you, um, you like what we’ve been doing?”

 Steve hears it then, the slight echo of insecurity in Danny’s voice.  Danny hadn’t realized he was leading this charge, that it had been on him, to the extent such a thing was even necessary, to make sure they did things right, and now he’s worried.  Classic Danny.

 He gets up and pulls Danny out of his chair, winding his arms around Danny’s fantastic shoulders.  “I love <i>everything</i> we do together,” he says, letting his voice rumble low into Danny’s ear.  “I wouldn’t have picked anyone else to take my boy-virginity.”

 As intended, this makes Danny laugh out loud, and Steve ducks in to kiss him while his mouth is still open. Danny responds enthusiastically and starts to tug Steve inside.

 “What about the pancakes?”  Steve asks, trying to keep kissing Danny while stumbling into the house.

 “We can reheat them,” Danny says.

 “Hypocrite,” Steve gasps out, as Danny shoves Steve’s swim trunks off his hips and tosses them onto the couch. “You never want to microwave pancakes.”

 “Is that really the conversation you want to be having right now?”  Danny asks, looking up at Steve from where he’s crouched down on the floor, sliding his hands enticingly along Steve’s bare thighs.

 “Just saying,” Steve insists, even as his breath flies out of him in response to the heat of Danny’s mouth on his cock.

 Danny rolls his eyes with his mouth still busy, which is quite a sight, and Steve lets the banter go in favor of letting out a nice, long moan.  He loves when Danny sucks him off, and loves sucking Danny off.  And Danny seems to love it too, giving and receiving.  It’s a sucking off love fest.

 Afterwards, lying on the floor in the living room while the air slowly heats up with the morning sun, the rug underneath them slightly scratchy against Steve’s skin, Danny rolls towards Steve and props himself up on an elbow.

 “I have a confession to make,” Danny says.

 Steve mirrors Danny.  “Oh?”

 “I assumed, you, um, had more experience with guys than I did.”

 “Well, I don’t,” Steve says, wondering why they’re going over this again.

 “No, I mean…”  Danny flops over on his back and throws an arm over his eyes. “I honestly don’t know if I can even say this.”

 “Because words are usually so hard for you.”

 Danny kicks a foot in Steve’s direction, and Steve pins it with his leg.  He rolls over and flops on Danny’s chest, sticking his tongue out to taste the sweat trickling in between Danny’s well defined pecs.

 “Are you trying to distract me?” Danny asks.

 “Maybe you’re distracting me.”

 Danny huffs out a laugh and slides a hand up and down Steve’s back.  “Okay, whatever, just…”  Danny takes a breath and then his words come out in a rush.  “I think I was sort of waiting for you to take the lead with some stuff, even though that’s dumb, but maybe you were waiting for me to do it, and I want you to be, you know, good with stuff, with us together, and, yeah, I don’t even know.”

 Steve peels Danny’s arm off his face and looks him in the eyes.  “Danny, I am absolutely good with stuff, with us.  If you’re worried that you’ve somehow pushed me into anything-”

 “No, that’s not it.”

 “Well, you haven’t.”  Steve squints at Danny.  “Is it the opposite?  Are you bored?”  Steve has been pretty satisfied with what they do in bed – or out of it – handjobs and blowjobs and various forms of rutting up against each other.  It’s always fun, and sexy, and he has no complaints whatsoever.

 Danny barks out a cackle, and then sits up, grabbing Steve’s discarded swim trunks and throwing them at his head. “No, you crazy person, I’m not bored.”

 “But you think I’m too vanilla?” Steve asks, loving the way Danny’s face flushes pink at this.

 “No, you’re not, what does that even mean, we’re grown-ass men,” Danny protests, his blush intensifying.

 “Grown-ass men can have fun, too,” Steve says, waggling his eyebrows.

 “I love how you think that face belongs in this conversation,” Danny says, but he’s smiling happily back at Steve. “And I didn’t mean you were too vanilla, whatever hipster meaning that has, but if you want to do other stuff, you know, we could, that’s all.”  Danny’s clearly more than a little uncomfortable about this conversation, but he’s powering through.

 Steve is intrigued, and more than that, ridiculously charmed by Danny, even in the middle of what should be an awkward talk about sex.  Every day he falls further for this guy.  “Come shower with me, I’ll show you how much fun grown-ass men can have,” Steve says, getting to his feet and reaching down to pull Danny up.  It’s the weekend.  They can mess around all day, if they want.  This is his life now, and he loves it.

 “Yeah?”  Danny asks.  “Okay. But only if we can take more than three minutes.  I’m not interested in one of your ridiculous Navy showers.”

 Steve grins and gives Danny a lecherous wink.  “I’ll do my best.  Age does have its benefits.”  Steve ignores Danny’s groan in favor of pinching his naked butt as they run up the stairs.

 ****

The next morning, Steve is in the kitchen putting away groceries when Danny comes downstairs.  Danny’s just finished his shower, and he’s naked except for a towel slung low around his hips.  It’s a really good look.  

 Steve grins to himself, checking to make sure that the supplies he selected are within easy reach, and turns to Danny.

 “Morning, handsome,” Danny says, walking right into Steve’s arms for a kiss.

 “Look who’s talking,” Steve rumbles into Danny’s mouth.  Danny is warm all over from his shower, and he smells great, clean and fresh but still himself underneath.  Steve spreads his legs and leans back against the sink, pulling Danny in close.  

 “Didja miss me?”  Danny asks, resting his weight against Steve and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.  Steve can feel the moisture from Danny’s damp chest through his t-shirt.

 “Always,” Steve says.  He nips at Danny’s ear, and Danny hums, pressing his towel wrapped hips enticingly up against Steve’s body.  “Wanna take this upstairs?”

 Danny tilts his head back and gazes up at Steve.  “I’m good,” he says, humor pulling at his lips.  

 Okay then, Steve thinks, looking around his sunny kitchen as all the blood in his body rushes south.  Might work better, anyway.  He twists to the side, which brings certain very interested parts of his body into even closer contact with Danny’s.

 “I bought something,” Steve says, or tries to, his breath catching as Danny sucks a kiss into the side of his neck.

 “Yeah?” Danny asks, still concentrating on Steve’s neck, sliding lower to get to the tender skin just under his collarbone before pulling back for a moment to strip Steve’s t-shirt off.

 The pause gives Steve a chance to reach into the bag on the counter, and he pulls out a bottle of whipped cream, presenting it to Danny with a smile.

 “Oh no, you did not,” Danny says, his eyes going bright with interest.  “Is that for…?”

 “Ice cream sundaes,” Steve replies, trying not to smile.

 “Right.”  Danny slides his hands up Steve’s chest, his fingertips giving extra attention to his pecs and nipples.  “Sundaes.”  Danny flicks at a nipple, and Steve gasps as Danny quickly soothes it with his tongue.

 “Danny,” Steve breathes out, one hand sliding down Danny’s body as Danny turns his attention to his other nipple. Soon he’s sucking at one while he flicks rhythmically at the other.  Steve shudders.

 “You like this, don’t you?” Danny whispers, his breath hot on Steve’s skin.  Steve doesn’t answer, but he figures the way he’s practically panting and trying to worm his way into Danny’s skin probably does the trick.

 Steve gives in to it, head tilting back, body on fire.  He’s not sure what Danny is trying to accomplish, but he definitely likes it. He whines a little as Danny straightens back up, his mouth tracing kisses up Steve’s chest.

 “Fuck,” Steve says.  “Danny…”  The towel around Danny’s hips slips to the floor as Steve gets a grip on Danny’s ass, giving him a squeeze.

 Danny grunts his appreciation, then leans back as his hands fall to Steve’s waist.  “Let’s get rid of these.”  He tugs at the denim.  “I think they’re in the way.”

 Steve nods and Danny goes to work on Steve’s jeans, popping the button and easing the zip down until he can get his hand on Steve’s cock.  Damn, that feels good.

 “So,” Danny says, almost conversationally, as he strokes Steve, “what are your plans for the whipped cream, hm?”

 Steve has pretty much forgotten about the whipped cream bottle he’s still gripping in his right hand, and he struggles to get the top off of it as Danny continues to palm his dick and whisper low and rough into his ear.

 “Gonna spray it somewhere?” Steve sucks in a breath as Danny’s hand twists a little as he comes up over the tip.  “Gonna spray it on me, and then lick it up?” Danny growls, licking a stripe up Steve’s neck as if in anticipation.

 Steve hasn’t really thought through what, exactly, was going to happen with the whipped cream, but spraying it on Danny was the general idea.  He can’t get the right angle on the bottle, though, not while Danny is doing <i>that thing</i> to him that makes him shake, but he’s trying, holding it behind Danny’s shoulders so he can get both hands on it.

 “Or maybe I should put it on you,” Danny says, his hand slowing, just holding gently now.  Steve groans and thrusts up into Danny’s hand, not wanting him to stop.  “I could put a little dab just here,” Danny runs a finger along Steve’s length, and then suck you down-”

 Just then, three things happen in quick succession.

 An all too familiar voice shouts in surprise from the doorway.

 Danny’s hips thrust hard against Steve’s.

 And Steve sprays the kitchen, and a very shocked Junior, with whipped cream.

 By the time they regain their wits, Junior is long gone, shouting “I didn’t see anything, oh my god, sirs, I’m sorry, I saw nothing, I’m leaving!”  They hear the front door slam, and stare at each other, before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter.  Danny slides his hands out of Steve’s pants and sinks to the floor, curled up over his stomach as he gasps for air, and Steve falls down next to him.

 “You’re naked,” Steve finally says, sucking in a breath, and Danny looks down at himself, sitting on the floor starkers, and cackles.

 “I know!”

 “Junior saw you-”

 “I know!”

 “With the whipped…”

 “I know!”

 There’s a clinking sound and they see Eddie, who has cornered the bottle of whipped cream up against his water bowl and is licking it clean.  There’s whipped cream on the kitchen island, and on the floor, and a little bit in Danny’s hair.  Steve reaches out a finger and wipes it off, Danny glaring at him and then grabbing Steve’s finger and sticking it in his own mouth.

 Steve grins, and then reality sneaks back in.  His attempt at taking the lead and spicing things up between them didn’t exactly go as planned.

 “I’m sorry, Danny,” he says ruefully.

 “For what?”  Danny has found a splatter of whipped cream on Steve’s shoulder and is smearing it with his finger.

 “I’m sure you didn’t exactly want Junior to see you, all, you know…”

 “Butt naked and jerking off my boyfriend?”  Danny asks, grinning at Steve.  “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

 “You’re not upset?”

 “Do I seem upset?  Why should I be, ‘cause Junior saw my ass?  I have an awesome ass, and an awesome boyfriend. Junior’s gonna be jealous, but I can handle it.”

 Steve catches Danny’s gaze, and sees nothing but fond amusement and steady love.  “You’re really okay with this?”  Steve waves his hand, indicating the general state of disaster that is the morning’s attempt at sexytimes.

 “Are you kidding?  This is the most fun I’ve ever had.  And-” Danny stretches over and retrieves the can of whipped cream, “if you don’t mind a little dog spit, I’m pretty sure the can isn’t empty.”

 Steve laughs again, batting the can out of Danny’s hand, and planting a fierce kiss on his boyfriend’s lips, which taste deliciously of whipped cream.  It’s the most fun Steve’s ever had, too.  And he doesn’t think it’s anywhere near over.

[ravenwolfie97]

2020 Art Summary

Yep, it’s 2021 already. 2020 is finally over. It felt like it lasted forever, and it felt like the end would never come, but here we are. Crazy how the time flew by.

I felt like I didn’t get much art done this year because of Current World Event, but I made a lot more than I thought I did. Even some of my new favorite pieces came out of this year, so I think that’s worth celebrating and looking back upon!

I was insanely productive during the first month of 2020, and looking back I was surprised at all the stuff I did, but then I remembered that that winter season was actually one of the best times of my life! I started being more socially involved, and I think my newfound drive at the time translated into all the art I pumped out this month. This is just a small fraction of what I made in January, but I only have so much space. Quite a few complex pieces in both style exploration and polishing my own style.

Apparently February was a rather intimate month. Things began to slow down in terms of my own art here, with me spending more time in social settings and school work ramping up, I didn’t have as much time to coop up in my room to draw. I did wanna do something for a friend’s Valentine’s Day OC art challenge, so I drew my lovey-dovey couple from Dance of 1000 Words havin’ a dance. Nothing actually came of that challenge, but it was fun to do regardless.

One of the things I was most proud of in the winter season was making more friends, and one of the closest friends I made was completely coincidental. I met a person named Kiri on the bus one night I decided to volunteer somewhere by myself, and we ended up chatting and getting along. They quickly told me their tumblr username, and I shot them a message immediately after they left. A couple days later, we met up for brunch, and we started becoming really close friends and creative partners!

Not much else happened in March cuz that’s when Current World Event started becoming an issue, but Kiri and I still kept in close touch and we randomly started developing a concept for a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Galar Edition. These are a handful of characters we thought up, with Skipper the Scorbunny and Dross the Dreepy as the main characters, Morgrem as the main antagonist, and some shopkeepers such as those of the Greedent Bank and the Indeedee General Store. This was also my first time drawing all of these Galar Pokemon (except Scorbunny, but I also made Skipper a bit more unique than a regular Scorbunny).

Lots of events happened this month. First of all, Steven Universe Future ended, one of my favorite and most influential shows was no longer continuing. I had to do something as tribute, both as a send-off to one of the greatest cartoons in the world and as a cathartic release for my feelings towards it.

A while later, I got the opportunity to start playing an MMO in beta called Fer.al, by the same people who made Animal Jam, which coincidentally I had also beta tested for back in the day. I ended up getting really attached to my first character, a Senri I named Sasha, and though I’ve made more characters than them since, they’re still my absolute favorite. Though I haven’t touched the game in a few months, I was really engrossed for a long time and enjoyed playing through the beta and early access phases.

At the end of the month, some friends of mine invited to a roleplay group with some mutuals, and we all played characters in a crime syndicate. Just a bunch of ragtag thieves and criminals who ended up together in order to protect an artifact called the Crown of Thieves, which was essentially a flag to be taken by other groups to prove that they are the best thieves in the land. My character was based heavily on my sona (if it wasn’t obvious) and was also influenced by Cloud Strife, since the FFVII Remake had just come out and I was super into watching the cutscenes at the time. My character’s (code)name is Valkyrie, and they are a mercenary, going between multiple different employers to carry out whatever duties they need to do. They have a more complicated backstory, but presently they were recently hired by recommendation of their friend Shark (played by @shmoots-universe​ who is also My friend now ily maya) who works with a group called the Court Cards who are currently in possession of the Crown of Thieves. Valk never really had a place to call home, but staying with this group of people had to be the closest they could get to that feeling. They still sleep with a knife under their pillow because of trust issue but that’s okay.

Okay, so technically these examples started in April, but I continued making content with them in May, and the month was just pretty void of art in general, so here I am addressing them.

There were two main things I worked on this month: a Steven Universe AU of my own and the whole #sixfanarts thing that kicked off around then. Let’s start with the fanart bits. I did two and a half of them (six in April and nine in May), and it was so much fun to be able to draw stuff I don’t normally do! My personal favorites are shown here: Blake Belladonna from RWBY, Roll from Megaman, Yuki Konno from Sword Art Online, and Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. The other thing I’d been planning for a while was a Steven Universe AU, probably to cope with the show being over but also because I was inspired by a lot of those SU AU artists I started following at the time. I won’t share the details here because it’s gonna have its own blog at some point, but the example I’ve shown here is of a comic I made loosely in order to introduce a divergence in the plot of the story as well as introduce a character unique to my AU. It was a lot of fun figuring out how to draw the characters and get a feel for the style.

As the year progressed, my amount of art I made per month began to dwindle, this time mostly because school was kicking my ass especially hard with finals. However, I took what time I had to get some backburner pieces finished, like the Tigerlily picture which I sketched out a couple months back, and the Gunvolt picture which I started working on SIX YEARS AGO. I don’t quite know why I got the urge to work on it again after so long, but it was nice to finally realize. The other drawing for DOTS was done in the dead of night but I was really happy with how it came out.

Despite only having two summer classes left of school, this month was really rough because they demanded a lot of my time and attention. I did not have the gumption to do anything digital, so I stuck to my sketchbook to get out what I felt like getting out.

My friends and I did a stream of the game Helltaker, and I really enjoyed the concept, so in following my friends I made my own Helltaker demon OC named Raksha the Ravenous Demon (it’s a pun but also got mythical insp). I also got super into Hazbin Hotel at this point, mostly because the Addict music video dropped and I couldn’t get enough of it, so I doodled Angel Dust cuz I felt like it. The other drawing I did was actually a free commission I gave a friend of mine as a prize for a trivia game show I ran back in June. He along with a couple other friends got some free drawings from me for getting the top three scores, and this one in particular was fun because of how interesting it was. He wanted me to draw a video game reviewer called the Irate Gamer from a specific moment, and I decided to go ham and just make it as dramatic as possible.

University classes finally wrapped up and right after that I was in the process of moving out of my apartment and getting adjusted to living with my parents again. I did a couple of agg.io drawing sessions with my friends from the Court Cards group as well as a new Dungeons and Dragons homebrew group I had joined. I drew some more of Valkyrie and came up with a design for my DND character Qakuqtuq (or Kai for short). He is monkey grandpa and I love him.

My main focus was on finishing a polished piece for my friend Cake, whose birthday was in the upcoming month. I wanted it to be as amazing as possible, so I put a lot of time into getting more detailed and making them look good. In addition to that, I did a few TOME doodles just for fun. The creature on the bottom was for this month’s art challenge on my Discord server where we made original TOMERPG monsters, and I created Hundylow, a Crystal-element monster based on the Grindylow from English folklore.

This month was a lot more productive than the past few had been. I tried to do a 31-day art challenge called Creatober but failed to get past the third prompt because I was still swamped with other work. I’m still happy with what little I did, including the piece with my characters Kyle and Guarudan from DSWD.

I don’t remember how, but I also suddenly rediscovered an old Flipnote Hatena series called Tales of LostClan, a Warriors fan series that I would say was the most obscure thing I’ve ever been super invested in. It was what got me into the actual Warriors books, and I liked it so much I redrew the animations into a comic... twice. Didn’t get nearly as far the second time but clearly my love for this little fanfiction had not waned after nearly a decade. I felt like drawing a book cover/movie poster for the series, just to get it out there and see how much I’ve improved over all that time.

Also I felt like making a vampiresona just before Halloween because I never dress up for Halloween in art (or real life anymore, for that matter), and I wanted to do something like that for once. It was short-lived but I really liked the design!

The focus of this month was definitely on Pokemon stuff. As per usual I contributed to the current Gotta Draw ‘Em All collab, and I was tasked to draw Regieleki. It was really fun to figure out how to make it stand out and look like it was made of electricity.

I also committed a lot of my spare time to my Fakemon Gym Leaders, as I had been working on bringing them to life in the past year or so now. As of this post, I’ve finished rendering their full body poses and gym badges, but I’m still working on completing all eight VS portraits, the first half of which are shown here.

I... didn’t draw anything this month, actually. What I’m showing here was worked on in the last few days but has actually been in progress for a couple of months, and I just finished it earlier today, in 2021. But I needed to show something off, and it’s also about time I mentioned it.

Back in October, I kept seeing people rave about this game called Genshin Impact, and I was interested but not so much as to start playing it... until my friends started playing and I was like “fuck it, let’s download it”. Since that day, I have been super immersed and in love with this game, to the point I came up with my own canon based on my gameplay experiences. This also included the creation of an original player character: Astra, the non-binary Traveller. And now, I’ve finally drawn them and brought them to life.

It has been one hell of a year. I had some of the highest highs and lowest lows in 2020, lots of changes, and I have now officially moved onto the next chapter of my life now that my time at university is finally over. I’m very excited for what 2021 has to offer, and I’m going to go forward with great ambition.

[no-name-mutt]

And (Working Title)

Mostly unedited here. Probably many mistakes.

Ji-Woo Suzuki was six generations removed from her ancestor Shimazu Nariakira, a galvanizing feudal lord of Japan during the Meiji Restoration. Shimazu Nariakira’s most famous quote was words that Ji-Woo worked to install firmly into her life.

"if we take the initiative, we can dominate; if we do not, we will be dominated."

  After years of war, scheming and destructive cajoling, Korea was annexed by Japan in 1910. Korea was considered a part of Japan until the end of WWII and subsequently,  the fall of the Japanese Empire in 1945.

 During this time, Ji-Woo’s great grandmother, Jeong-Ja was forcibly betrothed. Jeong-Ja (ji-young ja) was eleven years old. Jeong-Ja was arranged to marry Sora Nariakira. Sora abhorred the thought of marrying a Korean woman. Sora, as with most other Japanese people during this time, saw Koreans as second class citizens to the Japanese. In their marriage, Sora took every opportunity to order Jeong-Ja like a slave. One late night, Sora forced himself upon her and Jeong-Ja became pregnant.

 A daughter was born, Hina Nariakira. While Korea was under Japanese control, it was initially illegal to change your name. As it were, Koreans that refused to change their names, were unable to enroll in school, receive mail or even receive meal rations. Eventually the colonial bureaucracy allowed the changing of names, and as much as 84% of Koreans changed their names. Speaking the Korean language was banned and Korean newspapers and printing houses were forced to close. Nearly 200,000 ancient and historical documents were burned. Korean youths were volunteered and conscripted into the Japanese army. Shinto shrines were built, and became places of forced worship. Japanese colonial policy became a clear policy of unlimited cultural erasure. 

Hina attended school and became a voracious reader and journal keeper. Hina, as a product of her environment, became fluent in both Japanese and Korean. From an early age, it was evident that Hina was highly intelligent. Her vocabulary in both Korean and Japanese quickly surpassed Jeong-Ja’s and Sora’s respectively. Though Sora was quick to forbid speaking Korean in the household, Jeong-Ja taught her in private.  

Sora frequently had Hina recite aloud his military orders. If there was ever a word that he didn’t understand, he would strike her. This was a sign to make the order as comprehensive as possible, though his reasoning was always, “Do not waste my time with pointless words!” 

Life for Jeong-Ja and Hina was of unceasing malaise. Their only solace was in each other. 

From reading Sora’s military orders, Hina became familiar with impending military movements, encampments and strategies. Hina learned of an upcoming landing of US Ships to discuss treaty possibilities. Hina devised a plan in which Jeong-Ja and her would flee their home to seek refuge with the US Navy. Somehow, discovering their plan, Sora attempted to stop the two from fleeing.

In a frenetic haste, Hina jumped on to Sora’s back, holding on to him with an arm around his neck. He drew his Manchukuo manufactured pistol, the Sugiura, and started firing wildly. Hina kept a dull pen-knife for protection and stabbed him three times in the chest, and twice in the neck. In a matter of seconds, Sora had fired every bullet in his pistol, one of which struck Jeong-ja in the head. She died instantly. Hina fled to the US Navy ship, covered in blood and alone.

The Korean peninsula has been in an imperial theater of war since the late 1800s. It remains a strong strategic naval position and is between three of the strongest and most hostile countries; Russia, China and Japan. 

Hina found herself as a refugee, aboard a US battle cruiser. From Hina’s journal, we know that while aboard the ship, she was raped multiple times by a Japanese-American Navy captain. Hina became pregnant. Clinton James Suzuki was a rising star among the ranks and arranged his marriage with Hina. He thought that having a baby out of wedlock would be detrimental to his military career. Hesitant, and silently unwilling, Hina agreed to the marriage. Through this, Hina became a US citizen.The wedding was expedited and facilitated onboard the cruiser. As her belly grew, so did her hatred for Clinton Suzuki.

Hina silently imagined his death in whatever setting they found themselves in. If he choked while eating, she wouldn’t save him. If he had fallen overboard, she wouldn’t call for help. If he slipped and fell down the stairs, she would elect to simply walk away. When the two arrived back in the US, there was to be a Navy welcoming parade in port. All of the seamen were to be standing with their wives (if they were married) on the dock as the Navy cruisers came back to port. Though Hina’s husband would have preferred to not be seen with his very young and very pregnant immigrant wife, he thought it would be a great opportunity to rub shoulders with those higher in command. 

As the ship was coming into port, the anchor was dropped, and four inch thick mooring lines were lashed from the anchor to the ship to the dock. Hina’s husband was the first one out on the dock behind the commanding officers, hoping that it would impress a lieutenant, admiral or anyone with any sort of authority. She happily let him stand as far away as possible from her. 

As the last mooring line was being lashed, a massive and potent rogue wave rocked the ship, and snapped the thick cable. The cable whipped downward and cut him cleanly in half from the right collar bone, down through the groin. His body fell apart like a sliced melon. Hina was silently imagining him drowning in the bay, but she never could have envisioned that. For a second she was stunned, and then started to laugh hysterically. She was finally free.

Hina easily found translator work. Although Hina adhered to strict ideals of frugality, she made enough as a single mother to comfortably support her newborn son Kaito Suzuki. Kaito Suzuki stood an average five foot nine inches. His hair was short, poofy, and straw like. His arms and legs were thin and underdeveloped, though his torso was somehow, rather round. Kaito had a round face, unremitting acne and eyebrows in need of a good trimming. He attended public school. He was unremarkably below average. He found little interest in extracurricular sports and clubs; instead, he spent most of his time skipping class, smoking pot and hanging out with his like-minded friends. After barely graduating high school, Kaito was given an ultimatum, either find work or attend college. In the end, Kaito decided to move out of his mother’s house and found work as a second shift janitor at night and weekend garbage collector. 

Kaito Suzuki and Ji-Woo I(the first) first met when she decided to stay late at the commercial real estate office where she worked. Kaito was just starting his shift, starting by collecting the garbage around the office.  Ji-Woo I was a quiet, mild mannered individual. She came from a good home and an affluent community. Ji-Woo I was going through a “rebellious” phase and began making a flurry of short-sighted decisions all revolving around Kaito. The two developed addictions to different drugs and made small time scams in order to fund these new habits. Ji-Woo I unexpectedly became pregnant. The night they found out, Kaito grabbed her car keys and said he was going out for cigarettes and never returned. Hina was the only person in the delivery room when the daughter was born. Ji-Woo I was emotionless. She stared emptily at the crying newborn girl. Ji-Woo I looked to Hina in silent disdain. Hina nodded in affirmation. When Ji-Woo I was released from the hospital, Hina drove her to the airport and handed her some money. Neither Hina nor the newborn baby girl ever saw her again.

Hina decided to name the baby Ji-Woo II, after her mother. (Whom despite the situation, actually quite liked.)

As a baby, she cried constantly. Even in sleep, she murmured and wept in unsilence. Ji-Woo would stop crying only momentarily if she were fed pureed sweet potatoes or ripe apricots. 

When Ji-Woo was six months old, she stopped breathing for nearly two minutes. Hina panicked, rushed to the emergency room. But by the time Hina arrived at the the hospital and Ji-Woo was breathing again and after that point, Ji-Woo never cried again. It’s as if she were an entirely different baby. Ji-Woo excelled in school and surpassed all of those around her. She had few friends throughout her youth. It wasn’t until her mid twenties when she learned how to simply “get along” with those around her. 

Ji-Woo took a master’s degree in Japanese History. Then continued on to get a doctorate  in Korean History. After a few bored years of teaching, Ji-Woo left to attend law school.

Everything about Ji-Woo was professional. Her skin was fine, with a healthy touch of melanin. She had high cheekbones and slightly sunken cheeks. A slightly upturned, pointed nose, symmetrical eyebrows. A single asymmetrically placed mole populated her face. She was beautiful. Equally strong and delicate, like the skeletal system of a great predatory bird. Her hair was long, to her lower back, though it was always pulled taut into a perfect braid. She wore simple, gold Tiffany earrings. She purchased them for herself. Ji-Woo’s wardrobe consisted mostly of well-fitting dress suits that obeyed her movements like a harshly conditioned army. There was never a loose thread out of place. Not even so much as a single piece of lint dared to adhere itself to her. She had an athletic, hidden, muscular build that I couldn’t help but to admire.

As a lawyer, Ji-Woo was ruthless. She constructed such pithy arguments, the opposition was often left speechless. And on a few occasions they were left literally stammering. Ever professional, Ji-Woo never showed any form of celebration or elation in victory. She spoke clearly, with seriousness and a dose of harnessed emphasis. Ji-Woo’s days were neither ‘good days’ nor ‘bad days’. She took on the day’s obstacles as if she had rehearsed them wholly the day before (though probably didn’t need it.).

The first time that I saw Ji-Woo Suzuki I was somehow dragged into a meeting of which I had no reason for being in attendance. I was struck by her. Though I prayed I could stay hidden, as a fly on the wall. Ji-Woo Suzuki led a team of class-action specific lawyers. Without ever speaking with her, one would simply assume she was the unquestionable leader. Only after an introduction, Ji-Woo Suzuki would offer to call her “Ji”, as a favor to you. It was not uncommon for people to reply to this offer by thanking her. Though, they were often left deciding whether to continue calling her Ji-Woo out of respect or interpreting her offer as an order. Most people continued to call her Ji-Woo or Ms. Suzuki.

I was staring at her. She was unpacking her case notes. People in the room started conversing. She uncapped a Montblanc rollerball and began to write. Just then, she stopped writing, wrinkled her brow in confusion and looked up directly at me as if to ask, “Who are you, and why are you here?” Her look was sharp, piercing but gentle. A needle and thread. 

She looked right through me. And that was the first time I knew, 

I was going to marry Ji-Woo Suzuki.

The meeting must have ended. I assumed so because the room had started to clear out. I hadn’t really been paying attention, not that I should have been. I wasn’t even supposed to be there in the first place! 

I pretended to collect my things slowly trying to match Ji-Woo’s pace so we could incidentally leave the conference room at the same time. This was quite difficult because I had no belongings to pack up, nor a briefcase to put them in. So I took out my phone from my pocket and pretended to reply to an email. I looked up again and she was already pushing her chair in (when did that happen?!). She moved with intent. I hurriedly shoved my phone into my pocket and jumped up to meet her in the doorway. 

“Hi”, I said, giving my best impression of someone far more casual than myself.

Ji looked at me quizzically, replied dryly with “Hello” and continued past me. Just like a fighter-jet breaking the sound barrier, she was gone, leaving only a potent echo. I must’ve blacked out, because the next thing I knew, she was already halfway down the hall. A paper came loose from her briefcase and she didn’t seem to notice.

This

 was

 my

 chance. 

I fast-walked down the hall as coolly as possible, “hey wait!” I called out. But she was already rounding the corner down the hall. I picked up the piece of paper, in perfect cursive writing it read,

I see you, do you see me?

5:00pm

My temple wrinkled in confusion. I looked up again and she was gone. The heart in my chest reminded me of its presence with a mighty thump. I felt myself sweat. Was this meant for me to find? I returned to the copy room and returned to my work. 

But all I could think of was one Miss Ji-Woo Suzuki. One moment she was there, and then she was not. 

In the periphery, 

of where I wanted to be. 

I felt invigorated. Anxious and curious. 

Piqued.

I got back to the copy room and looked at my digital casio watch, 2:04pm.

My inbox of “to be copied” was now spilling out. I assumed position in front of the plastic, off-white monstrosity. 

First, I’ll take the source material in my left hand! Then! I read the copy instructions and made the proper adjustments and number of copies. After the copies were completed I placed a single paper clip on the ream and set it in the pick up box. Organized alphabetically. To most people, the job would seem boring, though I would argue that there are quite a lot of nuances to it. For example: Eighteen copies of pages one through three, six copies of pages four through ten, and that’s an easy one. 

A page goes in, the scanning light travels from right to left, and left to right, pages come out. I know the machine inside and out. I know because I have had to take it apart and reassemble it, not without hiccups, of course. I went home that day with a black ink stain on my chest. Like I was blasted by a shotgun, and bled black. The skin on my belly was still stained where the ink and bled through the shirt. 

Occasionally pieces of dust or folded paper would cast a shadow on the rest of the page. It caused a ghastly, black, pixelated shadow to print on the copies. Sometimes the shadowed copies were fine to pass along, sometimes, they were better discarded. 

At five pm, I stood outside of Ji-Woo’s office. I was nervous to enter. She sat behind a sleek mid-century desk with her legs folded. Her slate gray dress suit and Mac Pro reminded me of a brutalist era sculpture I saw once as a teenager. I didn’t understand the sculpture then, though maybe I do now. 

She had nice legs, I absolutely understood that. I caught glimpses of her toned calf muscles through the gap of her desk as I paced as casually as possible in front of the open doorway. 

After a few paces back and forth, I heard her call out to me, “You can come in, you know.” I froze. Then somehow came to find myself sitting in the chair across from hers. The desk remained between us. I didn’t know what to say, at that moment, I couldn’t be sure if I knew how to speak. 

“I noticed you today in the Carter vs. Amadeo-Hastings meeting.” She said. 

“No… I mean, yes, I was there. Just trying to learn what it’s all about.” Do you think she bought it?

“Are you interested in practicing law?”

“Uhm, yeah, interested? Definitely.” 

I actually had only worked at the office for about a month. I was still fairly unclear on what business the office conducted, let alone the ‘partners’. Before, I worked at the busiest copy center in Seattle. I got let go after I yelled at a customer, “Stop breaking my shit!” and in my defense, they were going to break the

Konica Minolta c754e! Those things aren’t cheap, and the replacement parts take three weeks to get to the states. 

 “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” She asked. 

    I felt a draft in the back of my agape mouth. Ji-Woo liked a breeze in the office. I found that out later that night when she told me at dinner. 

We continued to see each other after work every Tuesday and during the day on Saturday. This was when Ji-Woo allowed herself recreational time. I learned a lot about Ji-Woo’s schedule during this initial period of dating. I found her structure and stoicism quite sexy. She made all of the reservations at restaurants. And not just nice restaurants, she even made reservations for tacky hole-in-the-wall places that she knew I would like. A few times she would order for me. Like a mind reader, she would always order exactly what I wanted yet never in a demeaning way. She seemed to know exactly when I wanted to speak for myself and when I was comfortable with her ordering for me. 

After about a month, midday on a Friday, she sent me an email. The subject line simply read, 

“Tomorrow Night 4/16/2019”

Hi Kentaro, 

Please meet me at my house tomorrow night at 6:00pm. We’ll go to dinner. I’ve made reservations at 7:30. Casual attire.

Ji

This was more or less the usual date query. Though, interestingly, she signed it at just Ji. Futhermore, she would usually ask to meet at six with reservations about the time it took to get to the restaurant. Surely we weren’t going somewhere that was an hour and a half away. 

That night, I was talking to an old friend of mine, Leo, on the phone. I was telling him about Ji-Woo and I. About how I eagerly awaited those Tuesdays and Saturdays. And about the one time I asked her out on a whim on a Friday night. She declined. I was upset for a while. But respected her need for personal space, and strict schedule. “It’s just how she is”. 

 I told Leo that we hadn’t had sex. “That’s good dude, she’s probably a Sazae Oni” he replied sarcastically. I didn’t understand his reference, but as his tone implied, it was a snide comment I’d best ignore... but didn’t. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked sharply. 

“Sa-zae Oh-ni!” He said louder and slower in syllables, as if it were common knowledge. He continued, “They’re these folk tale snail mermaids that preyed on Japanese pirates. They would pretend to be in distress, but when the pirates brought them onboard, the sazae oni would chop off their balls and hold them ransom for gold. They’re like, obsessed with gold or something.” A weird silence filled the phone line as I looked around the room, waiting for him to finish. 

He started again, “ok, it doesn’t matter. You’re the Japanese one, should you know what a sazae oni is?”

I held my lips taught, annoyedly. 

“Well, is she someone you’d bring home to meet your mother?” He asked me. I thought about this for a while. I imagined a cartoon caricature version of my mother asking me, “Why would you want to be with someone that is so serious all the time?”

Up until this point I had never even seen the inside of her apartment. Whenever I was to meet her there, she would already be outside the gate waiting for me. 

That Saturday night I took a cab to her apartment building as I usually did. It started to rain on the way over and fog grew in density the closer I got to the apartment. I didn’t check the forecast beforehand, and I didn’t have an umbrella. I arrived at the gate and Ji-Woo wasn’t around. I checked my phone for any missed messages from her, but there were none. 

    I buzzed her intercom. “Hi, I’m here. Are you there?”

    “Still getting ready, come up.” 

She buzzed me in. This was it, I was finally going to see where(and how!) she lived. 6th Floor, apartment 6F. Embarrassingly, I panted a bit when I got to her floor. I stood on her doormat, it said ‘Welcome’. I was slightly damp, everywhere. I wore an old grey knit sweater. I had washed it so many times the collar was getting tiny holes. Faded blue jeans and shabby sneakers. I checked my casio, 6:00pm exactly. “Yes! Perfect timing” I exclaimed silently as I clenched my fist in victory, then knocked on the door insouciantly. “Come in!”, I could hear Ji-Woo shout from behind the door. I opened the door, slowly. I floated in like an astronaut, opening the hatch to an alien planet. I opened it to a small foyer. There was a modern-looking coat rack which I hung my soggy jacket on. To the right was an inviting, lamp-lit living room. There was one of those long arched floor lamps spilling its light on an Eames Lounge chair. I imagined Ji-woo perched on it, with a warm beverage, reading a dense book. Floor to ceiling bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows lined the rest of the room, I realized it was a top floor corner apartment. Black and white photographs and pen drawings hung on the wall. There were blankets draped on the modern couches. It felt uncharacteristically cozy. The furniture all flowed perfectly, like it was a team of designers’ life’s work. 

    On the left there was another closet. Then further down, it opened up to the dining room. “In here” She shouted, from that direction. 

    I kicked off my tattered sneakers and the uppers deflated like popped balloons. I took one step toward the kitchen and I was struck with the most extraordinary smell. It was rich, minerally and spicy. I let my nose lead the way. 

She stood at the stove. She was wearing a loose knit navy sweater that was well loved and jeans. Her sleeves were pushed up. She was wearing a nice apron. Her hair was pulled back, not in a braid, but in a perfectly round bun. 

    The dining table was set for two. Plates, silverware, a wine glass for her and a beer glass for me. There were two candles and a decorative bowl. The bowl was filled with some unknown liquid that looked like molten gold. I wanted to stick my finger in it but didn’t. 

    She turned and saw me, and I saw her. “I didn’t mean that casual.” she said jokingly. Lately she has been making more and more jokes, but only during our dates. It was comfortable, and usually pretty funny. 

“It smells so good, what is it?” I said. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter by the stove. She leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips. I was so surprised that it was over before I could react. There was a battle in my head between the heavenly smelling food and the thought of the kiss. 

“It’s almost ready. Get us drinks from the fridge.” She instructed me. The fridge was filled with different sized glass containers. They all stacked neatly, each with a label of what it was and a date. There was a bottle of white wine and a fancy looking beer with today’s date. I took them from the fridge and opened them. She looked as though she were a professional chef. She moved with tempered urgency and precision. “Budae-Jjigae. Budae is ‘army’ or ‘army base’, jjigae is ‘stew’. It’s a recipe my grandmother taught me... a long time ago.” She stopped what she was doing and looked off into space. 

A few seconds later, she regained consciousness from her memory and started to plate the food. It was finished. 

It was delicious. It was perfect. It was obvious that Ji-Woo had made this dish many times and was able to recreate it perfectly. “How many other romantic interests had she made this for?” I wondered, but quickly spurned the thought. I wasn’t shy, and got a hearty second helping. 

I wiped my mouth and leaned back in my chair, and polished off the last of my beer. I wanted badly to unbutton my pants and relieve the pressure on my waistband. Instead, we got up and cleaned the kitchen together. 

Later on, we found each other on the sofa near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I was elated. Warm, with a full belly. Calm, sleepy, but present, I closed my eyes and relished. 

“Do not fall asleep.”

Ji-Woo instructed me. “I will be right back.” She said. 

Insubordinately, I was falling asleep when from down the hall, I heard her call me, “Come here, I need to show you something.” I sleepily approached the room at the end of the hall. A bedroom. As I got closer to the doorway, I could see a mirror’s reflection in the bedroom. It truly was a bed-room. A queen size mattress and two small side tables with lamps were the only furniture. Warm, golden light spilled out of the bedside lamps that reflected off the polished hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A single, brand new candle was lit on the nightstand. But there was no lighter or matches anywhere. How was it lit?

    Ji-Woo lay on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Her right arm supported her posture. Her hair was down. It was now I could fully realize the length and volume of her hair. It flowed down her back and fanned out perfectly behind her like a ginkgo leaf. The low lighting in the room accented her dark makeup. Her eyeshadow shimmered subtly.

She was wearing a lacy bodysuit of lingerie so scant, it could hardly be described as clothing. A lacy and delicate fabric choker connected to thin straps perfectly obfuscated her nipples. Ethereal panties suspend a pair of elegant garters. The fabric adhered to her slender, toned body as if it were made custom. 

She eyed me fervently,

And I was very awake then.

After it was over I felt euphoric and peaceful,

Unburdened. 

I turned over, towards her in bed.

I put my head on her chest.

 And I heard nothing.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Messy But Beautiful

Christmas fic

Masterlist

Requested by @yeoldenoodle

Neutral Reader, Merry and Pippin

Words: 1,249

Warnings: Mess and fluff, slightly irritated reader, but it’s all for fluff

You walked in to utter chaos.

Never before had you seen the kitchen like this, covered in flour, sugar and goodness knew what else, mixing bowls and spoons scattered in every direction, and it only took you a moment to catch onto the laughter to know exactly what had happened.

“Merry!”  You called, not hiding the anger in your voice.  “Pippin!”

Two very guilty looking hobbits poked their heads around the door.  “Ah-hello Y/N!”

“Hello indeed,” You said flatly.  “Would the two of you care to explain the state of my kitchen?”

Both of them shook their heads and instantly flinched at the flash in your eyes.  “Not yet!  We have a little more to do then we’ll clean up, promise!”

You folded your arms. “A little more to do?  Are you destroying the rest of the place too?”

“No!”

“I don’t even want to know what’s in there,” You said.  “But if it’s anything like here, then I can promise you two are going to face some serious consequences!”

Merry and Pippin share a look as you huffed and rolled up your sleeves, starting on the mess in the kitchen.

“No Y/N!”  Merry said quickly, hurrying forward.  “We’ll do it, we-”

He was stopped by your stare at him, equally covered in flour and sugar as the kitchen, but it was also clear that there was white frosting on his clothes, as well as batter from whatever they had decided to try and bake.

“What did you two do?” You asked.  “Fight with it?  You realise it’s meant to be cooked to be eaten?  Not poured onto your clothes!”

Merry gives a hesitant laugh.  “Well, we don’t do this very often, so we weren’t overly sure of what we were doing.”

“We’ve still managed it though,” Pippin said from the doorway, not moving the rest of himself out. “And it’ll still taste great, if the batter and icing is anything to go by.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.  “Is it still edible for the rest of us?”

The two shared another look and you sighed.  “Just…go finish what you are doing, there’s little point in stopping you now.”

“In all fairness Y/N, you weren’t meant to be here this early.”  Pippin said, but quickly shut his mouth at your glare.

“If I thought the two of you were capable of being left unsupervised, then I wouldn’t have,” You said. “But clearly this mess is most definitely proving that otherwise.  Now, just, go…please, before you make me regret not being here earlier even more.”

Merry gives a nod and quickly, maybe a little guilty, moves back to the room, Pippin’s head quickly disappearing as you faced the mess in the kitchen.

It was meant to be for the celebrations later tonight, the largest gathering in the Shire since Bilbo’s 111th birthday, a time that everyone needed.  Like most others, you were hesitant when Merry and Pippin volunteered to handle this side of things, but you all had seen how they changed, so it was left in their hands.

Just as the cleaning was now in yours.

Of all the things that you wanted to do today, this had not been a part of it, but apparently Merry and Pippin had other ideas, and just seeing the amount of mess was making you itch, not wanting to see it.

All the bowls and spoons and everything else you could find that they used, were thrown into the sink, ready to be washed.  With the space cleared of clutter, you grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the benches.

“This is how you get ants,” You grumbled to yourself.  “I have a feeling I’m going to be finding sugar for months.”

Whatever the two of them had going in the other room, you hoped all this mess was worth it.

Sweat soon beaded on your brow, and you couldn’t help but wipe it away, a little in frustration, as it threatened to irritate your eyes.  You were scrubbing hard at a spot on the table when Pippin entered a little sheepishly, clearing his throat.

You looked at him, seeing he was just as bad as Merry earlier, but refrained from making a comment.

He gives a slightly nervous smile.  “Do you want to see it?”

Sighing, you straighten out and wash your hands.  “I hope you two have thought about being able to move this?”

Pippin nods as you approach. “Sam, Frodo and Fatty are coming around at dusk to help us.”

“Good,” You finally give him a smile.  “Alright Pippin, let’s see what you two have been up to and what all this mess has been for.”

Pippin grins and leads you into the next room, where Merry was applying just a little bit more icing to some part of the large gingerbread structure.

You couldn’t help it, you stopped and stared at you, a little taken back that they’d actually managed to create something so complex.

Pippin leans back on another table, popping some spare gingerbread into his mouth.  “It took longer than we would’ve liked, but we wanted to make sure at least the key details were right.”

Merry gave a small laugh as he stepped back too.  “That, and we had to keep making more gingerbread.  Just getting the base assembled was bad enough.”

They both looked at you, suddenly paying attention to your silence, and shared a worried look with each other.

“Are you alright Y/N?” Merry asked.

“You two…you two really did this?”  You asked quietly.

They both nodded, unsure of your reaction.

You smiled, positively beamed, at the two of them, surprising them.  “It is incredible.  Messy, but beautiful.  I can’t believe the two of you managed this with that mess in there.”

On the table, was a gingerbread replica of the Shire, with tiny hobbit doors, the tree atop of bag end, and every other little detail they could think of, and while there were globs of icing in random places, and a few pieced together pieces of gingerbread, it was absolutely stunning.

Merry finally grins first, rubbing the back of his neck before realising there was icing on them. “Thank you Y/N, that means more than you think coming from you.”

Pippin chuckles.  “Does that mean we get out of cleaning up?”

“Absolutely not,” You said, not letting the smile drop.  “Whoever cooks also cleans, so get those brilliant butts in there and get going instead of letting me do it all.”

“But we’ve been on our feet all day,” Pippin groaned.  “And we need to clean up ourselves!”

“Then you better get moving,” You said with a laugh.  “Creative genius’s or not, you still have to clean.”

Merry and Pippin share a look.  “Genius’s you say?”

You snort, turning back to the kitchen.  “Enjoy it while it lasts, you two, I’ve known you both long enough to know the truth.”

“You just enjoy riling us up.”  Pippin said, pouting a little.

“Absolutely.”  You giggled, casting them both a mischevious look. “And you both make it so easy.”

“Pippin,” Merry said, feigning seriousness.  “How much icing do we have left?”

“More than enough.” Pippin said, grinning wildly as you looked between the two, just as quickly cottoning on to what was about to happen.

They both ran at you and soon the kitchen was filled screams and laughter as the three of you proceeded to make an even bigger mess, the gingerbread and celebration of the night, temporarily forgotten.

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Rebound

This is the first part of a commission :D

Rhys gets dumped, Jack goes on a 'treat Rhys nice' spree out of pure spite, and eventually catches some serious feels himself.

Subsequent parts on my ao3 here. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

--

Jack had stopped reading the report on his desk some time ago, his attention focused on his personal assistant as the younger man somberly frowned to himself.

Rhys made a little noise Jack wasn’t entirely sure was voluntary, the sound a little too close to a sob instead of a sigh. It had been several days of this, now, slowly escalating to the point that Jack was actively invested in the unhappy looks on his PA’s face. He couldn’t leave it alone any longer.

“Hey. Rhysie. What gives?”

Rhys looked up sharply, a slightly-caught look on his face. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You’ve been mopey all day. Don’t think I didn’t notice, buttercup.” Technically not a lie. But Jack didn’t volunteer that he’d noticed days prior. “What’s the matter? You get dumped or something?” he teased with a smirk.

The expression on Rhys’ face went stricken, and Jack frowned. No, that couldn’t actually be it. Rhys was, like, in love with that guy. Never shut up about him or whatever hot dates he had lined up or outings planned. The way the PA doted and bragged to Jack about how well things were going sometimes even made the older man jealous.

No one put that much effort into dating him, after all. It was usually the other way around, in Jack’s opinion.

Rhys had an anniversary coming up in two days that he’d asked him the day off for, too. Maybe his dinner reservation was cancelled or something. A total bummer, but nothing Jack couldn’t help with if it took that look off the younger man’s face. Being Handsome Jack’s personal assistant had to come with some perks.

“Rhysie, baby, it can’t be that bad. Come on, tell ol’ Jack what’s wrong.”

“That’s exactly it, actually,” Rhys didn’t deny. He knew he’d been feeling pathetic but if Jack noticed then it really said something. “I got dumped. Go ahead and laugh.”

Jack was going to do anything but. “What?? Who’s laughing? That guy dumped you?” Who the hell would dump his PA? Jack was offended on his behalf. “After all those cute little lunches and shit you showed me you made for that loser?"

He’d believe the other way around; Rhys was gorgeous after all. But as far as Jack knew, the younger man had seemed pretty happy with the nameless jerkwad that kicked him to the curb. That Rhys had been moping for days bothered Jack significantly.

“What a butthead,” Jack stated simply.

Rhys slightly snorted a little at that description of-- well, was he even an ex-boyfriend now? The way he’d been dumped, Rhys got the impression that he was the only one who had thought they were a committed item. “I don’t… I don’t super wanna talk about it…”

“No? You sure, buttercup? I can always put out a hit on him.”

Rhys snorted again, but the smile he gave as he shook his head was watery. “Please don’t do that, Jack. It’s not-- It’s not his fault or anything. I just… misunderstood what we had.”

Jack wrinkled his nose at that, but didn’t comment as it was clear that the younger man was taking it particularly hard. Sounded like the guy was a grade-A jerkwad in Jack’s opinion. He certainly didn’t deserve Rhys. If the younger man was half as good a boyfriend as he was a personal assistant, then the guy was an idiot and a jerkwad.

Rhys busied himself in tidying up his desk a little self-consciously as Jack watched him with a considering frown. “...You sure I can’t have the guy whacked for you, pumpkin? Volunteer him for R&D’s bio-division? Target-practice?”

Rhys snorted and ignored Jack, though a wan smile took his face.

It was better than tears, at least.

--

Two days later, Jack sat at his desk in the early-morning hours with glasses on and a screwdriver in hand. His coffeemaker lay in pieces strewn across the desk before him. And Jack was super wishing for a cup of something strong right now indeed.

He held a curly, spring-looking thing in his hand, squinting at it in scrutiny. He wasn’t sure the machine needed it, and wasn’t entirely certain it belonged to it, anyways.

Maybe he should’ve cleared his desk from the odds and ends he’d been tinkering with early that morning, but then he’d desperately needed a cup of coffee, and the damn light kept blinking but no caffeine was forthcoming. Which left him with only one option.

His favorite place in the hub wasn’t even open yet, and even under threat from Handsome Jack himself, it would take so long to get the employees to the store and the roaster going, let alone bring it up to him. Jack could be patient, but he wasn’t that patient.

So… he was fixing the machine.

He lost himself to testing connecting wires to the heating element, pleased that everything seemed to be conducting correctly, and he set it aside into the ‘okay’ pile of stuff he’d checked. The curly-spring sat next to it in the ‘maybe’ pile, and everything else strewn across his desk was being categorized under ‘guess we’ll find out’.

Jack was looking into the dispenser-module when the doors to the office whooshed open. He looked up with startled puzzlement as Rhys strode through, cups of coffee in both hands and bag slung over his shoulder.

The CEO checked the time, and then the date to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, brows knit together in confusion as his PA raised a brow of his own at the mess on Jack’s desk.

“Is that… the coffee maker?” he asked, setting Jack’s own overly-sweetened usual on the desk next to what used to be the start-mechanism. “How long have you been here? Did you even go home last night, Jack?”

“Yes I went home,” Jack said honestly, though it had only been for a few hours before some emergency at one of their Eridium mines had called him back. Some time before he seriously needed a caffeine fix.

The CEO took the cup from the desk with serious gratitude, immediately sipping with a sigh of appreciation. He could feel his headache from annoyance already going away. He turned his attention back to Rhys, the younger man picking up the water-spout from the ‘okay’ pile with a frown.

Jack met the look the younger man was giving him, shrugging as he put his attention on the piece in Rhys’ hand. “Yeah, I’m fixing it. It wasn’t working, the light was blinking…”

Rhys looked at him with disbelief. “The ‘add-water’ light? Seriously? For the reservoir in the back?” His expression was half-amusement and half pity, but definitely condescending in a way that only made Jack smirk. Rhys knew he knew better. And it was also a judgment on the almost-correct assumption that Jack had slept in the office again.

It was one of the things Jack liked about Rhys-- he wasn’t so scared of him not to poke fun. He cared if Jack was getting proper sleep or not. And the longer Jack looked at him-- with the knowledge that he’d taken the entire coffee maker apart over an empty reservoir- the bigger that shit-eating grin on the younger man’s face grew.

Jack knew he should’ve just gone back home to sleep for a few hours instead of remaining in the office after the mine was dealt with. He was an engineer, dammit. He’d way over thought the problem. Wasn’t thinking straight at all.

Maybe he got the date wrong, too.

He took another appreciative sip of his coffee, giving Rhys a once-over. “Didn’t I approve your day off, kiddo?”

Rhys’ smile somewhat wilted, turning a bit awkward. “Uh, yeah…”

“Then what’re ya doing here, cupcake? Don’t get me wrong, I really needed this crap,” he said, gesturing with his cup, “like, really-really. If the mess doesn’t tell ya. So what gives?”

“Um… I only asked for the day off because me and-- and--” Rhys looked away in minor humiliation, though he didn’t bother keeping it to himself. Jack already knew, anyways. “I’d thought I was going to be having a romantic anniversary date today,” Rhys laughed as if it didn’t bother him half as much as it clearly did. “Since that’s clearly not happening, I decided to just come in.”

He looked embarrassed, as if it was anything Rhys himself should take responsibility for. Jack really would like to punch the asshole that had dumped Rhys. Right in the nose.

“Hey, his loss, my gain, right?” Jack tried for nonchalance; to bring Rhys’ mood up with usual familiarity. Rhys rolled his eyes, though he’d succeeded in making one side of the younger man’s mouth quirk in a smile.

Rhys went to his desk as routine, setting down his coffee and bag as Jack sat at his own. The CEO frowned at the unnecessary mess. He’d taken it apart pretty quickly, but putting it back together…

“What’s on the roster for today, pumpkin?”

Rhys looked up from where he sat, lowering his coffee cup from his mouth and swallowing the sip he’d taken. “Well,” he began after swallowing, pulling up the older man’s schedule. “Not much. There’s an echo-call with the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve down on Pandora… And a few department walk-throughs, weapons testing if you wanted, but that’s really about it.”

“That’s it?” Jack echoed with surprise. “Rhysie, kitten, if the day was gonna be this uneventful, you should’ve just taken it off. Have a spa-day or something.”

Rhys pouted in his direction for the older man’s lack of tact. “It’s uneventful because I thought I wouldn’t be here to assist you,” he said petulantly. “I cleared your schedule so you could just test prototypes, or something else you’d have fun on your own with that needed to be done.”

Jack’s brows were raised in clear surprise at the thoughtfulness of the younger man, even as Rhys sent him an impressive scowl. Here Rhys had planned to be away celebrating some romantic anniversary, and the PA had still tried to confirm a fun work day for Jack.

He didn’t have to do that. Hell, he could’ve forced the CEO to finally do all those budget-meetings he knew he hated. Or set up various interviews by those requesting an audience with him. He hated those things. After that little creep in genetics or whatever wanted some grant to clone him…

Well, the enthusiasm was nice at least.

“Count on you to be the perfect little PA,” Jack praised with a smirk, “but if I were you, I still would’ve chosen to sleep in. And before you say anything, I did go home last night,” Jack reiterated with an arched brow as he took a big, unapologetic slurp of his coffee.

Rhys snorted and shook his head. He appreciated Jack’s exaggerated mannerisms. It was normal. Jack being Jack. Distracting from the actual humiliation he felt over thinking his ‘boyfriend’ had been…. Well, his boyfriend.

At least he’d been dumped before wishing the other man a happy anniversary. That would’ve been a hundred times worse in Rhys’ opinion. “It’s not like I’m going to any of those reservations I made by myself, Jack. That’s just sad. And I’m pretty sure it would be pathetic to ‘be mopey’ at home all day.” Rhys was paraphrasing Jack’s own words from days previous, but the sentiment was the same.

He didn’t want to be alone with the humiliation he still felt.

Jack’s gaze stayed locked on Rhys’ own until the younger man looked away a bit somberly. He’d maybe thought the conversation was over for the most part, but the gears in Jack’s brain began turning as he considered his jilted PA.

He wanted to do something nice for Rhys. To make him feel better about the asshole that dumped him. It was such a disappointment to have had a day of fun lined up only to try to forget it ever existed. Jack wasn’t exactly familiar with the feeling himself, but he thought he could probably relate. He wanted to try to, anyways. To show Rhys that he was still a hot little leggy commodity; that Jack appreciated him and the things he did for him.

He had a couple ideas about how he could go about that.

And hell, maybe Rhys would enjoy spending some time with him, too, outside the sometimes interesting parameters of the job of being Jack’s right hand man.

“Hey kitten,” Jack spoke before he could stop himself, a smile on his face as his gaze met Rhys’ own. “How about you still have that romantic little day you planned out, hm?”

Rhys’ brows raised into his hair with bewilderment before furrowing with a pout. “I didn't want to spend the day alone,” he repeated previous words. His voice took on a bit of a sour note, not bothering to hide his mood at the perceived slight. “Am I bugging you or something, Jack?”

Jack’s smile turned to a smirk. Whether he was actually mopey or not, Rhys’ sass was still intact. “Damn baby, that asshole did a number on you, huh?” Rhys’ pout deepened into a full-blown frown, but Jack’s smirk turned toothy. “I meant, if there’s nothing important to do today otherwise, let’s just screw around.” The look Rhys leveled at him now made the older man roll his eyes. “Not like that. Geez you’re sensitive today.”

“You’re not funny.”

This was already blowing up in his face before he even got started.

Luckily, Jack knew Rhys’ weakness well-enough: “I have one echo call, and crap that frankly I’d rather save for the next time you try to make me go to a budget meeting,” Jack began quickly, “so why don’t we go get ice cream at that place you’re always telling me about or something instead? Eat out somewhere fancy for lunch, huh?” he proposed. “What other neat shit did you have planned today, pumpkin? You don’t wanna go it alone, I get it-” Jack said pointedly, “-but there’s no reason to miss out on fun because of some dick-bag, right?”

Rhys looked at him with open disbelief. “Really? Are you serious?”

Something about the tone of the younger man’s voice made the CEO feel warm under the biosynthetic skin that was his mask. Jack just grinned what he knew was a charming smile, ignoring the heat in his cheeks at the plaintive look on Rhys’ face. “I sure am, buttercup. Consider it a celebration of dodging a bullet, huh? At least you didn’t waste anymore time with that jerk.” Rhys’ lips twitched at the beginning of what might be a smile. “What’s the first thing you wanna do, huh? ...I can still set it up to have this guy dodge actual bullets, ya know.”

Rhys snorted but shook his head at the suggestion, trying to hold back the smile that wanted to break on his reddening face.

Jack wanted to dedicate a day to him, huh? That would be nice. The older man liked getting his way and always being in charge, but Rhys got the sense he genuinely wanted to do something nice for him.

He might’ve rejected the offer if he thought Jack was doing it out of pity alone, but then he was pretty sure the older man didn’t know what pity was. Jack probably just wanted a reason to further screw around all day and not work, but he sure didn’t need to include Rhys if that was his real goal… even if Rhys had thought he was trying to make him go home at first.

That was pretty damn thoughtful where his boss was considered. Jack generally only knew big gestures, but the offer to do his day with him, like he’d planned before being dumped...

Well hell, Rhys had had a nice couple of things set up before all his feelings were crushed. He’d felt too humiliated over the situation to have even cancelled his reservations and appointments, but he was also slightly depressed over missing out on them. He’d been looking forward to it. The restaurant reservation alone had taken him a month to secure, even with dropping Jack’s name.

It didn’t matter now, though, since Jack himself would be with him. The level of service was certainly going to be better than if he’d been with his not-boyfriend, that was for damn sure.

“Well… the ice cream shop was actually one of the stops in my plans,” Rhys admitted through the smiling blush on his face. He wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to let his hopes get too high, but it might be fun doing most of the same planned activities with Jack. It was better than going alone, at least. They’d probably get better service throughout the day, too.

Jack hopped up from his desk, abandoning the mess that had once been his coffee maker to come and stand before Rhys with a grin. “Cool! Great! Let’s do that then!”

Rhys gave him a look with a sort of lopsided smile. He angled his view around Jack, leaning to pointedly look at the older man’s desk. “What about the coffee maker?”

“Order another one, kiddo. Something fancy and real obvious about where the water is supposed to go. Hell, get an automated one and have the plumbers hook it while we’re gone. Never run out of water again! Ha!”

Rhys snorted at the idea, but he already knew the one he wanted to replace it with. Out with the old, in with the new. The old one had worked fine, but it was outdated and more than ready for a replacement. He counted it lucky that Jack had happened to the coffee maker. Jack could fix it if he put the time in, but it was easier (and more fun) to just buy another.

Little did Rhys know that his life was about to get the coffee maker experience in sum-total.

Both the good, and the bad.

--

kofi | ao3

[abbottikeler]

The Ikelers: A Family Chronicle, 1753-2018 (Part III)

The Ikelers in the Nineteenth Century     There are many descendants of Wilhelm who, to this day, live within a few miles of Jerseytown and his original Greenwood farm. They are, most of them, eight or nine generations removed either from his eldest son, Andrew, or his only daughter, Elizabeth.  (Barnabus, his second son, did not marry, and William, his third born, though he married in New Jersey and lived out his life in Columbia County, could not convince most of his descendants to stay.   Many migrated west to Ohio and beyond.)     Especially if you can trace your ancestry back to Andrew Ikeler, you will easily find third, fourth and fifth cousins in Bloomsburg and neighboring townships.   Evidence of their long presence and influence is everywhere in Columbia County—in two Ikeler cemeteries, a church, a street, and even a village named Ikelertown.  In the case of Wilhelm’s friend Daniel, and his son-in-law William, Elizabeth’s legacy lives on in the ubiquity of the Welliver name in local phone directories, in the Jerseytown cemetery established by Daniel, and in numerous published histories of Daniel’s involvement with the ill-fated Whitmayers.   There is, in fact, near Bloomsburg a country crossroads and a hamlet surrounding it named “Welliverville.”       Those two families, after all, were among the first pioneer farmers to clear and work the land after the 1780 treaty with the local native-Americans.  Ikelers and Wellivers have been there ever since.     In this segment of the narrative, I’ll be looking at three generations of Ikelers who lived all or most of their lives in nineteenth-century Columbia County, PA.  They are, in order, Andrew Ikeler (1772-1850) and his wife Christiana, nee Johnson (1774-1865); Andrew’s son Isaac (1804-1883) and his wife Mary, nee Taylor (1810-1872); and Isaac’s son Elijah (1838-1898) and his wife Helena, nee Armstrong (1840-1913). For information about the siblings of Isaac or Elijah (there were in fact a dozen), the best local sources are the County Courthouse and the Columbia County Historical and Genealogical Society in Bloomsburg.  Under discussion here are only the children from whom my immediate family and I are descended.       Andrew reached his majority in New Jersey under the sole care of his mother.  In 1792, he married the daughter of an English settler—the first with the new surname Ikeler to do so. Christiana Johnson’s father, Isaac, was most likely sympathetic to the British cause, since he allowed the union of his daughter to the son of a notorious loyalist.  He also later moved to the Pennsylvania neighborhood where Wilhelm had settled.  It appears that Christiana and Andrew may have been the last of their generation of Ikelers to leave New Jersey for Columbia County. The 1888 Beers Book makes reference to Andrew’s journey there in 1804.  Presumably, he was waiting for confirmation from his father that the land they needed for their growing family had been purchased.  That news came in 1804, and Andrew appears on the tax records of 1805 as the owner of a log cabin and a saw mill and 150 acres of land in Greenwood Township.       Unlike most of the farmers around him, Andrew seems to have cut quite a public figure.  Near the end of the War of 1812, he led a company of militia to the defense of the nation’s capital.  While underway, they learned the threat had passed, so he and his men returned to Columbia County without firing a shot. Again, in 1835, he made news when elected Magistrate at the ripe age of 62.  At his death in 1850 he had outlived his brothers and his sister by nearly a decade.     We know precious little about Christiana’s life, either in New Jersey or Pennsylvania, but she and Andrew lived long enough to see many of their grandchildren grown, long enough to celebrate their 57th wedding anniversary, and, in her case, long enough to see the end of the Civil War.  Born before the nation itself, she died at 91 in 1865.  One can only image what a diary of her times she might have written!     She and Andrew are buried in the far right corner of what is known as the “churchless” Ikeler cemetery, at the top of a hill overlooking both their and Wilhelm’s original homesteads, and planted in corn to the very borders of the graveyard.  The site functioned up until 1840 as the informal burial place for Ikelers and their near neighbors.  In that year, Andrew’s eldest son, William, set money aside to preserve it in perpetuity and later erected the limestone tombstone that marks his parents’ last resting place.  In the row immediately behind them are several broken slabs of slant, the inscriptions on them (if any) long since effaced.  It is very likely that they mark the burial place of Wilhelm and his wife, presumably carried there (in 1808 and 1815 respectively) from their nearby log house in a homemade pine box, or perhaps simple in winding sheet.     Ironically, far less is known of Andrew’s son Isaac, my great-great grandfather, and his wife Mary Taylor.  Though he followed his father’s example and married a woman of English stock, he kept close to the land Andrew left him, and rarely participated in the life of the wider community.  Yet, since he lived into the 1880s, I suspect at least one photograph of him must have been taken, and may somewhere still exist.  Certainly there are available photos of other children of Andrew.      Much research remains to be done on his wife as well.   Happily, some has recently come to light through the efforts of my third cousin, Chris Sanders.  Mary Taylor was sold by her father into indentured service at age twelve, along with her brother.  The promise of an apprenticeship was often written into the contract—in Mary’s case, the promise was, in the course of her seven years of servitude, that she would be taught “the mysteries of housewiffery.”  Why her father, a widower, was driven to take such an extreme measure remains a mystery.  Perhaps he simply thought he couldn’t manage their upbringing on his own.  It was, as one wise genealogist reminded me, a different time.      Mary’s servitude did, at least, have a foreseeable end.  She married Isaac Ikeler immediately upon regaining her freedom at 19, in 1829.  Her son Elijah, perhaps as a tribute to the suffering she had endured in her adolescence, christened his second son with the middle name “Taylor” just two years before his mother’s death.  Her memory was apparently cherished by later descendants as well---they passed it down to this very day as the middle name of at least four other Ikeler males.  Mary, fortunately, was something of a genealogist herself, and faithfully kept what she knew of the Ikeler family tree on the flyleaf of her bible.  For most of us, that partial record represented the starting point for our research into the early generations.     Mary Taylor Ikeler predeceased her husband by eleven years.  Isaac passed away in 1883.  All but one of their eight children survived into adulthood.  Both parents are buried under well-preserved limestone monuments in what became the next, newer Ikeler cemetery, atop Ikeler Hill and directly across the road from the Ikeler Church.   Their resting place sits right above the border between Mt. Pleasant and Greenwood Townships, looking down on the very hills and fields they plowed.       Elijah Redmond Ikeler, their fourth child and second son, is perhaps the most widely remembered and controversial of all the Ikelers in this history.  Even his birth year is debatable, variously recorded as any of four years between 1837 and 1840.  Most sources, including his large granite tombstone in Bloomsburg’s Rosemount Cemetery, declare it to be 1838, however.       From his early days he appears to have been disinclined to take up farming.  At 18 he was apprenticed to a mill owner, and shortly thereafter had acquired a share in the business.  At the outset of the Civil War, he seems to have been equally disinclined to take up arms in defense of the Union. Whether he paid the standard $300 to send someone else in his place, or simply wasn’t called up because the local quota of soldiers had already been filled, he clearly had no interest in risking his young life for a cause he didn’t believe in.  In a Bloomsburg newspaper article from 1864, in which a local volunteer at the front complains about the lack of support and enthusiasm from the folks back home, Elijah is quoted (among others) arguing in favor of a compromise with the Confederacy that would allow the Southern States to keep their slaves and end the bloodshed sooner.     By that time he had already been married for a year—to one Helena Armstrong, two years his junior and a resident of Bloomsburg.  Her father owned a prosperous stonemasonry business, producing monuments in limestone and granite for local cemeteries and public places, as well as the marble window frames and sills for the more prepossessing homes along Main and Market Streets.  Helena also brought an impressive pedigree to the union with Elijah: among her father’s ancestors were the socially prominent Rittenhouses of Philadelphia, and the Hiesters, one of whom had been an officer under Washington in the Revolutionary War.  She was thus a member of the D.A.R., with the bona fides to prove it.  On her mother’s side she was descended from the Vanderslices, a Dutch family and one of the wealthiest in Columbia County.      How did Elijah, the 25-year-old son of a Greenwood farmer, manage to marry into an established upper middle class family such as the Armstrongs?  Probably a combination of ambition, political savvy, and good looks.  He looks out from photographs and portraits taken of him then and later with a self-assurance and a symmetry of aspect that commands admiration.     By 1865, he and Helena had taken up residence in Bloomsburg, the county seat, at the time a settlement of some 3,000 souls on the banks of the Susquehanna.  Elijah would remain a townsman the rest of his life.  He struck up a friendship with a much older Bloomsburg lawyer, John Freeze, who had lost his own sons to childhood illnesses several years before.   Freeze took him under his wing, taught him the law, and, from 1867, admitted him into his own practice as a fellow attorney.  Thereafter, Elijah rose quickly to political prominence, becoming Bloomsburg town treasurer in 1870 and district attorney a short time later.     His domestic fortunes, despite an initial setback, were also advancing.  In 1867, Helena had lost a pair of twins, but she gave birth to one healthy son, Frank Armstrong Ikeler, the next year, and another robust boy, Fred Taylor Ikeler, in 1870.    Why they had no more children after that, though both were in their early thirties, I can only speculate.     Certainly Elijah grew increasingly involved with public affairs and the business of making money.  He participated in the early prosecution of the Molly Maguires (though the miners were ultimately tried, convicted and hanged by others), and he bought numbers of residential properties within Bloomsburg proper (whether for rental income or resale I haven’t been able to ascertain).  By the 1880s he thought himself well enough known and respected to run for elected office.  The position he sought was that of Presiding (or President) Judge: a five-year term of office with jurisdiction over both Columbia and two adjoining counties.   He was twice elected: in 1888 and again in 1893.  He ran again in 1898 at the age of 60, but fell ill in the midst of the campaign and died within a week in August, 1898.   At the time of his death he was living on Market Street in a mansion-sized home of his own design, known for years after as “the Judge’s house.”  The building has since been extensively renovated and functions today not as a place of residence, but as a funeral home.     In the last two decades of his life, there was also much going on at home to keep him happy with only two children.  Given his risen position in society, Elijah was clearly ambitious for his sons.  They both attended and graduated from Lafayette College—the first Ikelers to earn baccalaureate degrees—and, by the mid-90s, both boys had begun to practice law, just as their father had done.      Aside from vague rumors that Elijah was a bit too fond of the bottle, and his arguable lack of patriotism during the Civil War (neither one of which sins was considered much of a problem in that part of Pennsylvania), everything about his life and his family seemed above reproach.  Particularly in 1888, when he ran for high office, it was essential to his success: he needed to present an unblemished record to the voters of three counties.       One small problem arose the year before that election.  A chronicle of Columbia County was being prepared, a chronicle that would rely for much of its information on interviews with prominent members of long-established families in the region—people who could recount their own and their ancestors’ history.  The chronicle (known then and since as “The Beers Book”) was due to be published in 1888, shortly before Elijah planned to open his election campaign.  And, given his social prominence, there was certainly no Ikeler more likely to be approached for genealogical information than Elijah.   All to the good, it would seem: a chance to boast, modestly of course, of his and his forefathers’ accomplishments, and perhaps, amongst interested readers, to gain a few votes.     The Ikeler section of the Beers Book that appeared in 1888 does indeed suggest the interviewee was Elijah—more than half of the entry praises the deeds of the would-be Presiding Judge, and has little to say of his siblings or his parents.       But the passage makes some quite curious claims about earlier generations.  Fact gets oddly mixed up with fiction—the first Ikeler [it reads] was “Joseph Eggler...of an honored old family of German extraction,” not a tenant farmer named Hieronymus Eichler; he landed in New Jersey, not Philadelphia, arriving in 1760, not 1753; most curious of all, “at the outbreak of the Revolution he promptly enlisted with the Colonists, and throughout that historic conflict unselfishly rendered service to his country.”  This founding father of the American Ikelers is also said to be Elijah’s great-grandfather, when in fact Hieronymus is his great-great-grandfather.  Elijah skips a generation in order to make Andrew, not Wilhelm, the son of this fictional hero.  It is Andrew, so the account runs, who brought the Ikelers from New Jersey to Greenwood Township in 1804.       What Elijah’s version does, of course, is to wipe out the first seven years of the family’s indentured servitude, credit Hieronymus/Joseph with an honorable, unselfish war record on the side of the Colonists, and eliminate Wilhelm and the “shame” of his fugitive years altogether.  There simply is no Wilhelm in Elijah’s account of his ancestry.     It’s a neat blending of fact and fiction, calculated to sit well with his neighbors and the electorate.  But I suspect Elijah’s dissembling had a second, and perhaps more powerful motivation behind it.  He was, we remember, married to a member of the D.A.R., a descendant of a genuine hero on the side of the Revolution.  When the chronicler came calling, Elijah could enhance respect for his heritage in the eyes of Helena by “recalling” an equivalent hero in the Ikeler family past.  But it was even more important for both husband and wife that he expunge any trace of Wilhelm and the family’s loyalist background.  And God forbid, Helena should find out one of her husband’s ancestors was a redcoat under arms during the conflict!     Elijah’s efforts to bowdlerize or mythologize his family’s past remained unchallenged for another 27 years, until both he and Helena were no longer among the living.  At last, in 1915, and just two years before his own death, I suspect it was I.B. Ikeler who offered a very different story to the county historian who came by collecting information for a second edition of the chronicle:  “In another account it is stated that William Ikeler [so the 1915 printed version reads] was the name of the founder of the Columbia county branch of the Ikelers.  William Ikeler also came from New Jersey and settled on a farm…approximately one hundred twenty-five years ago [i.e., circa 1790].  His wife’s name was Barnhart, and their issue were four children: Andrew, William, Elizabeth and Barnabus.”  Except for getting Elizabeth Bengert’s maiden name wrong, his version squares with the facts as we now know them.  I.B. Ikeler was in the best position to set things straight, after all, since it was he who held that “ancient” deed of sale, the proof that William Ikeler had paid 450 hundred pieces of gold or silver for an additional 350 acres of land in 1804.

[mexcine]

2 Cinematic Stalkers: I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes (1948) and Feliz año, amor mío (1955)   I recently watched I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes (1948), and Feliz año, amor mío (Happy New Year, My Love, 1955).  Each of these films was based on a literary source: “I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes,” a novella by Cornell Woolrich (as William Irish), and “Letter from an Unknown Woman,” a story by Stefan Zweig which had been filmed at least 8 times before 1955, often without crediting Zweig.  Both films are woman-centric, and--more importantly for the purposes of this essay--both have a romantically-obsessed stalker as a major character.

     Popular culture, and notably Hollywood cinema, generally reflects the society in which it was created, and thus the depiction of stalkers has evolved over the years.  In the last few decades, such individuals are often vengeful “exes” (Fatal Attraction, for instance) or obsessed fans (The Fan, 1981 and 1996—different plots but a similar premise). However, this has not always been the case—what pop culture cinema of the past often portrays as “cute” or “persistent” behaviour (e.g., a young man “won’t take no for an answer” until finally the object of his affections realises she loves him) can often—viewed through 21st-century sensibilities—appear inappropriate.

     In I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes, the male “stalker” is eventually exposed as a murderer, but prior to this reveal, he’s chiefly depicted as a lonely and opportunistic middle-aged man who has a crush on a younger (and married) woman.  Not appropriate, even for 1948, but not necessarily evil.  The protagonist of Feliz año, amor mío, on the other hand, is a teenager who--as the film opens--is romantically obsessed with an older man and devotes her entire life to this crush. In the context of this film, her obsession is depicted as “romantic” and—while not normal—not necessarily wrong.  Consequently, while both films contain a stalker character, they are portrayed quite differently; however, 21st-century viewers might not necessarily agree with the viewpoints expressed by the filmmakers.

     I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes has a film noir-ish premise—innocent man condemned to death for a crime he didn’t commit; Ann could also be considered a sort of inadvertent noir femme fatale, inasmuch as she’s indirectly responsible for Tom’s conviction--but is short on the type of moody visuals one has come to expect from this film style. 

     The film is told in flashback as Tom sits on Death Row awaiting execution…Dance team Tom and Ann have fallen on hard times; they dream of moving to the West Coast where they’re sure their luck will change, but at the moment Ann supports them by working in a “dance school” (which appears to be one step removed from a dime-a-dance operation) and Tom pounds the pavement hoping to get a booking.  One evening Tom tosses his dance shoes out the window at a noisy cat, then goes out to retrieve them but they’re gone; the next morning, the shoes are outside their apartment door.  This seems suspicious to me, but Tom and Ann shrug it off.  

     A short time later, Tom finds a wallet stuffed with $2000 cash while waiting for Ann to leave the dance school.  Tom intends to turn it in to the police but Ann convinces him to hold on to it and see if the owner advertises in the newspaper for its return.  Tom reluctantly goes along, and after a few days they decide to spend some of the cash.  Little do they know that one of their neighbours, a noted miser, has been murdered and his reputed stash of savings is gone.  The police discover a footprint near the man’s home, and the distinctive shoe is traced to Tom, who is arrested, convicted of murder, and sentenced to die.  As the date of Tom’s execution draws near, Ann offers herself to Inspector Clint Judd if he can save her husband’s life.  Judd arrests a suspect but the man has an alibi.  On the night of the execution, Ann tricks Judd into confessing that he committed the murder and framed Tom, so that he (Judd) could get Ann on the rebound.  Judd is shot by the police and Tom is freed.

     Early in the film, Ann tells her husband that one of her students regularly gives her a cash tip after each lesson; she mockingly refers to him as “Santa Claus,” and appears to have not given him much thought, other than as a something of a sucker. As it turns out, Judd is “Santa Claus,” and he’s also the detective who discovered the incriminating footprint.  After Tom is arrested, Judd confronts Ann:

Judd: “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” Ann: “You didn’t ask.” Judd: “As long as the $5 bills held out, you weren’t volunteering any information.” Ann: “I didn’t think it mattered. I didn’t take you that seriously.” Judd: “It mattered to me.”

     This is an interesting exchange—Judd’s first comment suggests he was originally unaware Ann was married (when he was her dancing “student”) but clearly at some later point he later found this out and began his scheme to frame Tom and win Ann for himself.  At the film’s conclusion, he tells Ann he’s purchased a luxurious apartment for her, and Ann (having picked up on a clue that points to Judd’s guilt) agrees to go there with him.

     Judd says he’s “been working on this place for months,” and the apartment is furnished to her specific tastes, because “I know all about you.”  He says “On my vacation I went back to Ohio, to your home town. I saw the house you lived in, the school you went to…I even saw the scrapbook you’d gotten together when you were 10…I even talked to people who knew you…I didn’t want there to be anything about you that I didn’t know.  I loved you before you ever saw me.  I used to go up to that dancing school at night because I was lonesome—then one night I saw you. I knew right away, but I watched you a long time…it took all the nerve I had to ask you to dance the first time.  You didn’t even notice, but always the next day I could still smell your perfume…and I made plans, for us. And they’ve come true.”

       Ann accuses Judd of being the murderer: “The only reason I kissed you was because I was desperate for any help I could get, and the only reason you agreed to help was because you thought you’d have me….you killed him, didn’t you? Why don’t you admit it?!”

       Judd: “What does all that matter now? He [the murder victim] was no use to anybody.  I wanted you to have everything in the world, don’t you understand?  What difference does that make now? I love you.”  At this point the police, having heard everything, enter from another room; Judd pulls a pistol and is shot to death.

      Regis Toomey’s final scene as Judd is played out in an interesting fashion. Reading the quotes above, one might reasonably assume they’d be delivered in a manic, even evil manner, but Toomey delivers Judd’s lines sincerely, smiling fondly at times, proud to reveal his stalking of Ann (decades before Google & Facebook!) so that he’d know everything about her.  At no point does he raise his voice or appear irrational or violent (he pulls his pistol but this seems to be a case of “suicide by cop”—there’s no indication he’s threatening Ann or attempting to escape). The closest he gets to anger is when Ann bitterly assails him for robbing and killing someone, then framing her husband for murder—he seems slightly annoyed that she doesn’t understand why he did what he did: “I love you.”  

      Judd’s actions are right from the stalker textbook: fall in love with a stranger; assume you are their perfect match and that you (and only you) can make them happy; research their life, likes and dislikes; try to win them over with gifts; if that doesn’t work, try to impress them by being “a hero”; exert control over them, using your specialised knowledge; if confronted, justify your actions by asserting everything you did was for “love.”

      And yet, somehow Judd doesn’t come off as a wholly sinister character.  This might be partly attributed to differing perceptions in 1948 and 2021; perhaps audiences in 1948 did find Judd far more unsympathetic than we do today.  We have the benefit of comparing him with various over-the-top psychos we’ve seen in more recent films, and he doesn’t seem quite so bad.  Also, Ann is not an entirely admirable character.  She loves Tom and is emotionally affected by his arrest, but as noted above, in several ways she contributed to this situation.  It’s not her fault that Judd falls in love with her and frames Tom, but the script makes it clear that she did not overtly reject Judd’s attentions: her claim that his repeat visits and cash tips “didn’t matter” to her rings true, but it also makes her seem as if she doesn’t care about anyone except herself and Tom.  By not discouraging Judd (or at least pointing out that she’s married), Ann indirectly encourages him, apparently for the sake of the money.  Similarly, Ann is the one who convinces Tom to not do the right thing and turn in the wallet and cash to the police.  This is a crucial piece of evidence that leads to Tom’s conviction, and while one assumes Judd would have somehow ensured the same result even if Tom had turned in the cash (which only represents part of the stolen money), it’s not entirely a given.  Neither of these are deliberately wrong, amoral actions on Ann’s part, and she shouldn’t be blamed for Judd’s obsession, but the film makes a point of showing Ann is not a perfect person and this slightly mitigates Judd’s guilt.  

     Feliz año, amor mío flips the gender of the stalker, from middle-aged police detective to young woman.  María is a teenager who has a crush on celebrity violinist Ricardo, constantly listening to his recordings, reading about him, and drawing his portrait in her art class.  She’s delighted when Ricardo rents a neighbouring house, sneaking in with the moving men to admire the furnishings. Caught by Ricardo’s major-domo Pedro, she leaves, self-consciously retrieving a drawing of Ricardo she’d left on the mantel.  Later, María spies on Ricardo as he practices, and there’s a running gag in which she turns on a light outside of his front door so she can watch him as he arrives, only to have the Pedro turn it off again.  María is sad when her widowed mother remarries and the family relocates to Pátzcuaro, a town about 350 miles away from the capital.

     Several years later, María moves back to Mexico City to attend art school, and resumes her stalking of Ricardo.  He spots her leaving the courtyard outside his home one New Year’s Eve, and introduces himself to her; they visit a nightclub, then return to his home where they sleep together.  María leaves while Ricardo is asleep, but returns later in the day...only to discover he’s taken an emergency job overseas; she reaches the airport too late to talk to him.  In true melodrama fashion, María is now pregnant and gives birth to Ricardo’s son—she refuses to convey the news in a letter, deciding to wait until Ricardo returns to Mexico…which takes several years.  She then confronts Ricardo after a concert but he doesn’t recognise her, she learns he’s engaged to someone else, and she says nothing about their son.  

     More time passes (probably at least a decade).  María anonymously sends Ricardo red roses every New Year’s.  María plans to respond to her boyfriend’s proposal of marriage on New Year’s Eve, but spots Ricardo in a nightclub and goes home with him instead.  She still doesn’t identify herself, and shortly after their (second) one-night stand is diagnosed with a fatal illness.  Before she dies, María writes Ricardo a long letter—this rekindles Ricardo’s will to live, since he discovers he has a son.  

      Feliz año, amor mío is told from María’s point of view—most of the film is a flashback, representing her letter to Ricardo.  Although María at one point fantasizes about what married life to Ricardo would be like (pretty great, she thinks), she apparently has no regrets about her missed opportunities: she has a son (suffering no social stigma because she’s an unwed mother), becomes successful in business, and dies happy—in the presence of her mother, stepfather, and longtime servant/friend--knowing Ricardo and his son will always remember her.  Ricardo, on the other hand, clearly suffered because he didn’t marry María—he’s ill, unable to work, and has no romance in his life (his first wife and child died, and his second wife doesn’t love him or even live with him). That’ll serve him right for...leaving the country the next day and staying away for several years? Marrying someone else?  Not recognising María after spending one evening with her years earlier?  He’s considering suicide when the film opens, but María’s letter saves him.

       Despite the fact that María is the protagonist of the film and her suffering and self-denial is portrayed as noble, her actions do meet many of the stalker criteria.  She’s obsessed with someone she doesn’t know; she sneaks into his house; she spies on him; she sends him flowers anonymously; she’s jealous of the other women in his life; she dreams of being his wife.  But when she has the chance to forge a real bond (other than two one-night stands more than a decade apart), María backs off, “honourably” choosing to remain unknown and depriving Ricardo of his company of his son until she’s dead.  Her reasons for this are not clear, but the film doesn’t examine them or challenge their righteousness in any way.  Her love is pure and noble, don’t you dare criticise it.

      In addition to María denying herself and Ricardo the chance for a life together, she also prevents her son from knowing his own father for the first 10+ years of his life (Ricardito is probably at least 15 years old when María dies).  Additionally María’s treatment of her suitor Manuel is extremely cruel.  Manuel is a nice guy, gets along with Ricardito, and María coyly indicates she’ll accept his marriage proposal “at the stroke of midnight” on New Year’s Eve.  However, when FATE places María in the same crowded nightclub as Ricardo, all it takes is an exchange of glances and a brief note from Ricardo (who, remember, has no idea who María is—she’s just a random pickup, unless he perhaps subconsciously recognises her from their brief meetings, years apart, more than a decade previously) and--BOOM--María leaves Manuel stranded without a word of explanation (he’s never seen or mentioned again—if there were any repercussions, the viewer never learns about them).  

      Although María’s actions are at times stalker-like, her character does deviate from the standard image of a stalker in an important way: although she does fantasize about marriage to Ricardo in one scene, she not only never takes steps to achieve this, but (as noted above) actively backs away from taking any steps to convert her fantasy to reality.  Most cinematic stalkers—including Judd in I Wouldn’t Be in Your Shoes—would stop at nothing to make their dream come true, convinced that Fate has meant for them to be together with the one they love, and that they are the only ones who could make the object of their crush happy.  María shows a bit of this magical thinking early in the film: after observing Ricardo bring a woman home and seeing them embrace in silhouette, María is angry and jealous, but subsequently rationalises to herself that these “romances” mean nothing to Ricardo, and only she could be his true love. 

       Feliz año, amor mío—and the earlier Hollywood version, Letter from an Unknown Woman, 1948, which has the same basic plot but is considerably different in the details—are both romantic melodramas about a woman obsessed with a man, as opposed to thrillers with the same basic premise, such as Leave Her to Heaven and Fatal Attraction.  While the female protagonists of these films take similar actions—up to a point—the adaptations of Zweig’s novella are told from the woman’s viewpoint (although written and directed by men) and appeal to a female audience, whereas obsessed-woman thrillers portray the leading female character as a threat to the male protagonist.

     Are “sympathetic stalkers” extinct in popular culture today?  One would think so; perhaps not all obsessed men and women on screen are portrayed as evil, dangerous and unbalanced--there might be some that are played for comedy--but too many real-life tragedies have probably tainted this type of character beyond redemption.