#we jus know she sad and we now have this illustration

[e-adlirez]

CRIES

Context: I Love You Paulina addresses heartbreak somewhat, but the circumstances behind such is unknown to us English plebs who have no idea what’s going on because of how starved we are for content ;w;, we just know that Paulina got heartbroken somehow aND WE ALL HATE IT THANKS

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 162 Rundown

Spy X Family: It’s the start of a new arc and it’s kind of a breath of fresh air to get to see Yor’s job for a change with her weird flower garden handler dude. She’s actually assigned guard duty for once instead of murder like idk I’d think if you’re a hitman organization you’d have separate people for guarding and murder because there’s a lot of intricacies that make those jobs very different if you’re a specialist but I guess having Yor fucking murder someone on a cruise ship would be kind of a downer. But yeah Yor has to protect the wife and kid of a murdered mob boss from the current head of the mob that wants to extinguish any threat to his leadership which it’s been a while but I think this may be the plot to Katekiyo Hitman Reborn. By a stupid fucking coincidence Anya finds a lotto game and gets stupidly lucky finding the only way a telepath could possibly cheat a drawing lots and wins a ticket on the exact same cruise. I guess it makes more sense than Yor’s assassin organization being like ‘oh yeah bring the family, let them watch you break someone’s spine for a mob boss’ but it’s still a ridiculous coincidence. Meanwhile Yor’s debating giving up the murder lifestyle now that she doesn’t have to take care of Yuri anymore and has a financially stable domestic life where she could probably just be a legitimate clerk and be fine. It’s kind of weird because Yor never seems to have a problem with murdering people or ever question if the people they send her after deserve it at all but she kinda just wants out because it’s… unsightly? Like she has no qualms about devaluing human life for an organization that’s almost certainly a partisan interest group and convincing herself she’s only killing bad people even though the likelihood of her committing a murder a week since she was 14 and every single one being 100% deserving of death is next to impossible but her qualm is that she just doesn’t need to anymore and she can pretend she’s not freakshow strong and be a normie, idk maybe she DOES feel bad about it but they sure don’t present it that way. Either way they make it onto the ship and shenanigans ensue, they actually do a pretty good job of humanizing the mob wife and illustrating the quiet sadness she has about trying to protect the only family she has left and being ridiculously powerless to do anything about her situation and confiding in Yor while they kinda bond over mom stuff, it’s good shit. It’s short-lived however as we get the reveal that the guy who’s after them has bugs everywhere and has just picked up Yor and her conversation that confirms the baby’s named after one of the previous family members, giving away their location.

Inuyasha: So this one’s another filler episode of little consequence about Rin questioning her place in a world of humans while being more comfortable around demons. This makes sense considering the demons she’s mostly around are Jaken, Sesshomaru and A-Un and the humans she most deeply remembers are the bandits that… WAIT A MINUTE! This episode claims bandits raided her village and killed her, but that was KOGA! Are we whitewashing Koga’s crimes now that he’s a main cast member? I mean I guess she did also see her parents being killed by bandits before that but given a demon was the one that actually physically killed her you’d think that’d kinda balance out the ‘demons good, humans bad’ scale to a more neutral place. Either way the reason this episode is a little more interesting is because of its effect on the end of the series and Yashahime since Sesshomaru does get it in his head that Rin shouldn’t be with him if she doesn’t want to be and gives her the choice to follow him ‘if she wants’ at the end of the episode and at the end of the series makes her go live with humans a while to give it a try despite her saying in this episode she’ll never live with humans again. I know Sesshomaru gets a lot of shit for how he handles things with Rin and just how weird it is that he’s known her since she was little and still fucks her but there’s also like a 150 year age gap between Inuyasha and Kagome no one talks about and not saying it’s not weird but if you absolutely HAVE to do a plot like this I think Sesshomaru does everything he can to get around the grooming allegations and give Rin an idea of what life is like without him, not necessarily saying that’s even a possibility when the idolation is that strong but an attempt was made. Kinda jumping all over here but I also like the humans that try to convince Rin to come back, like I like when the side characters of the week are a random duo/troupe of monks that just have normal spiritual powers and can do shit, I think it’s kinda cool to see someone besides the main cast on the level of being able to take out mid-tier demons. Also Jaken talks about how Rin will most likely be dead before Sesshomaru can form an empire because it’ll take hundreds of years but also like… is that even something Sesshomaru wants? He seems to just be fucking around at this point, like Jaken’s right about Sesshomaru wanting personal power initially with the Tessaiga and ultimately attaining it with the Bakusaiga but he does not seem like the kind of guy that could be assed to actually command an empire, I think Jaken’s just projecting a glorious goal onto his master here, like maybe at one point Sesshomaru’s like ‘yeah it’d be cool to be a king I guess’ and then forgot about it like a hundred years ago and Jaken’s just carrying around that idea this whole time idk. Also this is a New Moon episode for some reason, like only to keep Inuyasha out of a fight with the monks and to stop him from jumping out when Sesshomaru clashes with the monks and mucking up his deliberate decision not to kill them like it’s a really weird choice to throw a new moon episode in here of all places. But yeah, kind of a bog-standard filler episode about Rin re-affirming her devotion to Sesshomaru but watching it again knowing how the rest of the series goes is kind of interesting.

Yu Yu Hakusho: This one wisely has more focus than the past few and hones in on just Kurama’s fight with Shigure. Kurama decides that he’s tired of his Yugioh two souls in one body deal and decides only one fox spirit alter ego is coming out of this fight alive or zero are. He calls his mom before the fight who tells him the cherry blossom tree in front of their house is blooming and hope he’ll be home to see it soon. It’s really funny that the Demon World Tournament has like these big mushroom biome arenas and yet they still start them in these tiny world tournament stage deals for no reason, like leaving them doesn’t matter and they always get blown up in the first attack so like what’s the point. Shigure gets to show off some more high-octane moves than the one second fight he and Hiei had and it’s pretty cool but Kurama spends the whole fight wishy-washy about not wanting to let Yoko out despite basically fully mastering and integrating him in the previous two arcs so it’s kind of a dumb fight of Kurama holding himself back for no reason. Still apparently he planted seeds on this exact spot thousands of years ago so now he can use Wood Style and does a clever move to disarm Shigure who’s just like ‘I’m not turning into a fucking jobber for these main cast pricks’ and jumps off a fucking cliff after complimenting Kurama’s flowers which look just like the cherry blossoms his mom was talking about which is a nice touch, a win for his human side and all that. But at the end of the fight Kurama still tells Yomi he’s not forsaking Yoko entirely and it’s just like… THEN WHY DID WE JUST DO THAT!? YOU ALMOST DIED! They kinda go back and forth a lot with Kurama about whether Yoko is a part of himself he can accept and change or a crutch he has to learn to live without and it’s kind of wishy-washy and this episode certainly doesn’t clear things up.

Jujutsu Kaisen: We’re finally back in the present and we have a nice cooldown episode to get re-acquainted with our technically main characters. It’s a nice little fluff slice of life deal to ease us in because I hear the Shibuya arc is rough. Nobara runs into a girl that had a crush on Yuji in middle school and helps her figure out if she has a shot now that she has marketable moe anime looks. It’s really kinda funny for how much the series sells the main trio as good friends that she has to call up Megumi even to check out if Yuji has a girlfriend, like you’d think that’d come up with all the time they all spend together. Though at the same time I also love their dynamic because it’s just like 100% platonic ballbusting all the time and they make it very clear there’s no cheap love triangles around here. We also get Yuji just kinda being a doll because he recognizes the girl right away and it able to see to a person’s core despite any physical changes. The girl even gets her own little mini character development by saying the reason she liked Yuji was because he liked her first and her most important criteria is finding someone that wanted her which is like really fair bro, sometimes the most attractive thing a person can be is receptive and passionate. But she also recognizes that she only has the confidence to pursue him now because she has the physical attractiveness that everyone derided her for not having before so it’s a complex little chestnut about our relationship to our appearances and how that relates to confidence versus unfair beauty standards and it’s kinda neat because it also doesn’t really come down on one side or the other, it’s just teen angst which sometimes is what happens. The rest of the episode is trying to track down the mole in one of the schools (is it just me or is that a thing in a lot of shonen lately? I know MHA had a big arc about it too). And yeah no surprise it’s Mechamaru who’s feeding info to Mahito and Geto in exchange for Mahito fixing his body but they’re all just kind of sick of each others’ shit too (I really don’t remember the reason I think just cause they’re evil) and immediately start fighting once he’s fixed. Though it’s revealed he’s been working on a SECRET GUNDAM and it uses all the time he spent as a glass bones and paper skin guy as fuel for huge attacks which is pretty cool if terribly unsustainable. Like I’ve seen enough shonen fights to know the guy that does the ‘I can only use this attack X number of times and it kill me’ is definitely going to be using all of those attacks or dying or some shit. Best case scenario he’s able to blow up the Gundam and get word to Gojo about the whole Shibuya thing and enter Cursed Witness Protection Plan Special Puppets Unit but I don’t think he’s gonna make it out of here alive considering he’s going up against the two main villains using his literal life force as fuel, prolly gonna have a death fight but get enough energy out to get a message out with his dying breath or something.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off: It’s kind of a round-up episode where the pieces of Ramona’s investigation get together. Though first we get a really adorable montage of Gorideon Groose and Lucas just kinda chilling out and when Julie comes back and shouts that it’s only been ninety fucking minutes I laughed so hard like I’m kinda glad they play that gag twice because it’s the perfect amount of time like it’s not absurdly short to assume they did all that video gaming and halfpipe building and sbit but it’s still way less time than all that should’ve taken it’s like a perfectly paced moment of comedy. Julie essentially clear Gideon by giving his backstory and saying he’s basically a NEET now though he himself confirms he is still planning something after she leaves but is still kind of a NEET. Ramona finally sees the weird robot that’s been running around and it’s… a vegan robot? Like aren’t all robots vegan unless you’re actively programming them to eat and feeding them meat? Like I guess that’s the joke but it’s like… really? But yeah she meets up with Scott’s friends to give her big Sherlock speech about how she was cucking both Twins at once which is like idk if I can call them ‘crimes’ exactly but the evidence that Ramona was a fucking weird manipulative person just keeps piling up and I get the feeling in the original series this was supposed to be Scott confronting her sins and flaws and loving her anyway but her it just seems like she’s confessing and giving a general idea that she’s changed but not nearly enough evidence to suggest she actually has given for how much time she’s known Scott I get the feeling she’s kinda more in love with mystery sleuthing than him at this point but okay. But yeah they also mention that the word doc for Young Neil’s script of the original series/movie written by the Vegan Robot was dated for the future, somewhere around Today Times I think and then Scott just kinda appears outside the door and says he’s the one behind all this and I’m assuming he means Future Scott which if this turns out to be Eighth Evil Ex Evil Future Scott Pilgrim I’d kinda appreciate that twist, like give us an idea that this idyllic romance may not always work out but there’s still hope for it in this timeline or something.

Ranking of Kings: We get Snake Guy’s backstory about how he wasn’t as strong as the other Big Four guys and he went to Despa to get trained which is why he was able to give Bojji the go-ahead to train there as well which is a neat little touch and we do get to see how a more standard training arc under Despa would go as he gets Snake Guy into his natural fighting style and weapon and he does eventually reach the heights of the others. The other short is about Daida trying to get the Big Four to get along because they’re unnaturally petty towards each other after beating Bosse and it just kinda comes out of nowhere because they weren’t like that before. Kirito sets them up with a guy who’s really good at arm wrestling despite them all being stronger than him and he kicks their asses but they’re able to unite their techniques and pool what they learned about arm wrestling from their matches to beat him which is cool, nice subversion of the ‘strong guys are just good at every physical activity’. Kirito mentions that they only seem to get along when they have a common enemy which just kinda seems petty idk, feels like they should get over that and it was a flaw invented just to make the episode work.

Vinland Saga: Thorfinn and Einar are working their field and come to the conclusion that they need a horse, but since they’re slaves and everyone hates their guts, no one will lend them a horse except this old man who strings them along with general chores for a while but eventually they do get a horse and get their field up and running which is nice. They find out the old guy is actually the dad of the farm owner and he insists on still working, presumably because he initially started the farm and is shown to place a lot of value on working to earn food (also he mentions he’s Norse idk if that’s relevant later or not) and it’s actually kind of a cool character study that he’s kinda really grateful to Thorfinn and Einar for their help because it allows him to still stay independent despite the farm owner always asking him to come home and stop working. Also he’s the same old guy we saw Snake mooching off of for his intro episode and they’re surprisingly close in the bickering old family members kind of way and Snake hangs out to make sure he doesn’t push himself too hard. They have a brief discussion of the fallacy of hording wealth and then spending it to protect it and Snake gently alludes to the idea of wanting to hire Thorfinn as a guard. Still they both treat the pair of slaves as equals and the two go home with Thorfinn getting another point added to his ‘understanding basic human shit’ skill sheet and their farm keeps progressing nicely.

[tojikai]

Every time I get a notification for PM I'm instantly filled with joy, fear, and despair all rolled up into one. Never stop writing please 🥹

I really wanna know what Gojo is taking to make him so bold. Because the absolute audacity that this man has had me seething at this point. STOP TOUCHING Y/N AS SHE'S SLEEPING YOU STALKER. The fact that he realizes how much his presence is damaging to y/n and yet he hasn't distanced himself for her is hilarious. (I loved the illustration with the needle) So he knows he is the problem and yet he's still there.

Wow so now we're trying to kiss people who we aren't dating as they're sleeping 😃 Also nobody asked for you to "fix y/n" she's not a project for you to inflate your little ego with. Nobody asked for your help either.

Gojo shut up. Just shut up. You sound so stupid rn. You literally need to stop talking so that others don't catch your stupid. You're at a hospital maybe you need to go get that checked out before it's too late. Actually it might be too late he seems too far gone already.

I really do love how everyone's like if only Gojo saw the damage that he caused when he left and how he destroyed y/n's life when he in fact knows but isn't doing the one thing that will help y/n to heal. I'm tired of people being nice to this man. Just leave him. Drop him from y'all's lives he's not worth it.

I think y/n getting mad is the only thing that's going to knock some sense into Gojo. I mean think about it he's either going to understand and distance himself or he's going to be upset at y/n and no longer want anything to do with her. Since he claims he knows so much about her 🙄 I mean it's a win win situation.

Give Suguru an award for being the only man we know so far in this story with some common sense. The only problem I have with him at this point is him not fighting hoetoru. Like as soon as we get a fight, hand in marriage sir. He's saying all the words I want to say. YES KING KICK GOJO OUT. We are making such beautiful progress with getting this man out of our lives and I love every minute of it. I've never felt any romantic feelings or affection towards Geto before this story and I can't say that I'm mad about it.

The fact that y/n dropped a lot of her previous behaviors and habits for Gojo but he wasn't willing to drop his feelings for a girl for high school really bothers me. Like maybe their relationship was doomed from the start because only one person was really giving in their relationship. Or maybe it's just me idk 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Oop I finally got to the end. I ju- wow. I have words at this point. I genuinely don't know what to say. I knew Gojo was stupid. I knew he was. But I didn't think it was this bad. Oh I can't wait for this next chapter. This is gonna be really good.

ooohh i bet some hot teasss gonna get spilled if satosugu like really fight LMAO geto's been stopping himself from decking satoru bc yn didn't want it to be the reason for their fight :> and yeah, it's really sad, how yn made herself better for him in those 5 years they were together, only for him to leave her for someone else :'((

[captainallthingspurpleme]

Good Girls 3x09 Thoughts

So I had to really take some time after the episode last night to process how I felt. Because there were a lot of things that I enjoyed about last night’s episode, and a lot of things I DID NOT enjoy about last night’s episode.

So, starting with some of the things I enjoyed (because starting and ending this post positively is my goal):

Ruby’s entire story line this episode -- of the 3 women, Ruby’s arc this season is probably my favorite

Annie and Greg’s conversation -- up until the moment Annie kissed him (which people like @pynkhues have pointed out appears to be deliberate, as a reaction to Annie’s grief over Marion) I actually LOVED this scene. It was raw and honest and something that I really think Annie needed to hear. And it shows me that regardless of how messed up they can be, Annie and Greg really do care about one another AND they BOTH love their children

Ruby IN PURPLE -- I mean, HELLO, LOOK AT MY BLOG NAME! She looked FABULOUS! Yes, Queen!

Beth, Annie, and Ruby after Beth visits Rio at his bar -- this entire conversation was hilarious, and Beth just openly lamenting how dumb she was made me happy (she CAN learn.....VERY.....VERY.....slowly sometimes, BUT....it still happens)

And now, in terms of the things I didn’t like this episode, what I really want to dissect in this post:

Beth and Dean

To be fair, I actually enjoyed most of their scenes this entire episode because they really underscored how NOT invested Beth is in their relationship and HOW MUCH Dean has started to notice.

And then their final scene together happened.

I was excited and ready for a “break up” between them in this final scene, even though realistically looking back on it and the synopses for episodes 3x10 and 3x11 I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

And then the scene was so HEAVY. Like, don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with Dean quitting his job. I do actually agree with him telling Beth about Gayle, but I DON’T believe it’s for the reasons he said (but I’ll unpack that in a minute). But just the sheer caliber of Matthew and Christina’s acting in this scene made me feel a LOT of emotion, and it was really hard for me to deal with right after, so I spent a lot of last night and today processing why. And I finally figured it out.

We start this scene with Dean at the island, drinking, bag packed beside him. Beth comes in, starts talking, doing their normal thing. And Dean leads with quitting his job.

And before I can fully process what others (@lunafeather and @foxmagpie in particular) have articulated so well--THEIR FAMILY IS FINANCIALLY DESTITUTE; Beth is ONCE AGAIN the ONLY breadwinner--Dean tells her that he and Gayle kissed.

It took me A WHILE to figure out why those two ideas, in that order, sent me into such a rage, even as I watched Beth’s LACK of reaction, which was also HEAVY--she’s just TIRED at this point; she doesn’t even CARE that he’s telling her this; SHE IS NOT INVESTED AT ALL.

For all Dean’s talk later in the scene about “I don’t want her. I want you.” he is ADMITTING that to stay at his job means he would cheat on his wife. Like we’re supposed to applaud him for finally having the basic human decency to tell Beth what happened, while in the same breath telling her he doesn’t have enough professionalism or self-control to continue on in a job until he finds another one. Because while I definitely empathize with not wanting to work where your predator works, Dean never once considered LEAVING 4 Star until after HE initiated sexual contact with Gayle.

Beth’s (lack of) reaction to all of this news is so telling, for the reasons listed above and more articulately by others than what I’ll try to re-hash here.

Dean goes on to say that he wants Beth. Which I think he GENUINELY believes. But my issue here is that he wants BETHIE. He doesn’t want who Beth is now because he doesn’t KNOW who Beth is now. Part of this is because she refuses to tell him, and the other part is because he refuses, even now, to really see her for who she is.

What I also think is telling her is what Dean DOESN’T say. Dean doesn’t bring up Rio ONCE in this moment. And I think that’s deliberate. Because to bring him up is to admit to himself and his wife that he KNOWS that she has feelings for Rio, and that those feelings are NOT what she has for Dean (regardless of what Dean does/does not know about Beth and Rio).

And then he goes to leave and she stops him. And for a very long time, that part of their conversation kept playing in my head and making me EXHAUSTED because everything about this scene just illustrated to me how DONE they are even though they both (Beth, okay, it’s Beth at this point) refuse to see it.

But Beth’s words stuck with me and they actually give me some hope.

When Beth stops Dean from leaving, she says “Don’t go.” And I think that is REALLY significant, because this whole scene Dean is talking about how he wants to STAY.

Telling someone not to go is vastly different than asking someone to stay.

I think Beth knows, in this moment, that she’s not upset in the way she needs to be if she’s actually invested in her marriage. With all of the bullshit and craziness and her own PTSD, those words actually sent me back to 2x13 when she cried and collapsed into Dean and 3x06 when she cried in front of him after hearing Au Jus (her name IS NOT Dorito, okay) might die.

Dean is Beth’s security blanket. He’s not someone she actively counts on. Ever, at this point. He’s not someone she entrusts with any more information than she has to. But when everything else is falling to shit, she goes back to their history together. Because it’s safe. Because it’s a known quantity. Because it’s the only source of comfort she has.

And then THAT thought made me exhausted. Because I GET it. Adding a divorce and custody and the upheaval for the kids on top of everything else would probably push Beth to her breaking point. It’s just also heartbreakingly exhausting for me to watch Beth try to keep fitting herself into this box that she doesn’t actually want.

But I genuinely don’t think she’s going to be able to keep up this front for much longer. Especially with the new FBI agent and the failed (God, I hope she’ll actually tell him not to, but I’m not putting money on it) hit on Rio. I think those two things are going to act like a wrecking ball to her numbness this season and she’s finally going to be forced to confront how she feels. Not just about Dean, but about Rio.

Because her silences on that subject and over-the-top denials just speak volumes, at least to me.

So I am tentatively hopeful that this last scene actually does help propel Death towards its final end. Or at least, that it would have in a full 16-episode season 3. For now, though, I’m just gonna try and focus on the other things in this episode that made me happy.

PHOEBE -- as stated in my original post, I already love her. She’s understated and messy and clearly knows how to do her job. Not a huge fan of her FBI partner, mainly because I think he’s very stereotypically cast, but Phoebe is going to be FUN

THE ENTIRE SCENE BETWEEN BETH AND RIO IN HIS BAR -- do I really need to explain this one?

Dean STILL bringing up Rio and being the biggest undercover Brio stan

Beth primping and showing her cleavage to Rio -- I died! They ARE THE WORST AND I LOVE THEM!

Ruby and Sara’s scenes together, especially the conversation in the car -- part of me is so sad that Ruby had to have that talk with Sara, but at the same time I think it was needed. Sara, if she’s going to judge her mother so harshly, should have all the fact.

Basically the entire Hill family -- they have been the most beautiful contrast to the Boland family this season. While I do actually enjoy the Boland kiddos (especially Jane!), we don’t get to see them enough for me to really tell what each of them is like. Sara and Harry are somewhat more distinct, and Ruby and Stan, for all their bumps, are #COUPLEGOALS

[moonshinelouis-archive]

fine line analyses

these are thoughts; my thoughts. if you don’t agree please be reasonable and just ignore.

tumblr fucking ate this post so here i am. rewriting it all.

tw: i talk about alcohol, drugs, grief, and death

the album in general uses the extended metaphor of yellow. the colour is mentioned in nearly every song and i’ll explain why or why not later. the yellow is hope, happiness, and all things nice but as all archetypes it has a ‘dark’ side; it means cowardice and/or deceit. it also seems to follow the hero’s journey which is interesting.

side a: love/light vs dark. exposition.

golden begins the album already in sunshine; in happily vibes imo. gold is the ultimate illuminated colour, so to use it is... the next level, especially as the album opener. “take me back to the light / i knew you were way too bright for me” are ideas that come back in lights up. i love the juxtaposition in this song: “hold [the golden (light)], focus, hoping,” and then a couple lines later, “i’m hopeless, broken”; showing that at the same time, he’s hopeful and hopeless. i love that he alludes, in the entire song, that his person is the sun but he never says it outright: “you wait for me in the sky / [your light] browns my skin just right / you’re so golden,” which come back in sunflower. “i know that you’re scared / because hearts get broken / because i’m so open” immediately made me thing of strong. both he and his lover overwhelm each other at times: “you were way too bright for me,” “you’re scared / because i’m so open”; but ultimately this is a song about devotion: “i don’t wanna be alone / loving you’s the antidote.”

watermelon sugar doesn’t have anything outright yellow; however, the entire lyrics are rooted in imagery surrounding summer which inherently involves a sunny, especially when he calls out that it’s “warm,” that there are “berries,” that it’s “the end of June,” so my point stands. this song has already been analysed, i think, so i’m not gonna go too into it; in a nutshell, it’s the sweetest of loves. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening” calls to we made it’s “remember how it tasted / looking into your eyes,” and the absolutely feral warm image of tasting moments makes me crazy...the tenderness..oh god.. “it sounds just like a song” comes back in many other tracks; in sunflower, “plant new seeds in the melody” -- try to find new beginnings in the music -- and also “want you more than a melody.” harry says this one was “the hardest one to finish” which could suggest ongoing events.

adore you has yellow in “honey” and “lemon” and hidden in “summer skies” and “brown skin.” thematically, this song is the same as watermelon sugar; devotion. “walk in your rainbow paradise” -- a rainbow is renewal, promise; a gateway, the calm after the storm. to be with his lover is to walk in paradise, away from all evil. though their lack of communication plagues them, it can sometimes be how they find their peace: “you don’t have to say you love me / nothing / [that] you’re mine.” “i’d walk through fire for you” reminded me of happily and through the dark. 

lights up, too, has already been discussed at length; “what do you mean? / i’m sorry by the way / i’m never coming back down / can’t you see / i could but it wouldn't stay?” will speak volumes to anyone who’s been closeted, even if nothing extreme. “i’m never coming around / it’d be so sweet / if things just stayed the same” would be the melancholy and fear of watching those you love slip away because of something you can’t change; and, even if it doesn’t, there will always be the little things that change, like how you’re perceived. “all the lights couldn’t put out the dark / running through my heart” is one of my favourite lines; it speaks of the things within himself he’d rather hide, and yet, all the pride he’s told to have does nothing to erase his bitterness towards the feeling -- internalised homophobia/transphobia. however -- “step into the light / so bright sometimes / i’m not ever coming back” -- as overwhelming, as scary, as engulfing as it all may be... it’s much better to be in the light than in the dark; back to golden. the yellow in this song is in the ‘light.’

side b: complete abstinence of yellow. abyss.

cherry presents vibrant red rather than yellow, perhaps to illustrate the glossy jealousy he expresses in this song, and possibly to say he is angry despite sounding defeated. thematically similar to woman. i don’t think this song is dismissible because its aspects all come back: “gallery” is again in sunflower; “don’t call me baby” returns in to be so lonely. “there’s a piece of you in how i dress” reminded me of “painted nails make harry beautiful” :’) also, “your accent” is pretty loud. if anything is to be said about the ending, is that it’s in the “language of love.”

falling is very clearly the death in the hero’s journey; the lowest point from which he could only rebirth. again there are communication issues: “forget what i said / it’s not what i meant”; “we’ve run out of things we can say.” and then there’s rediscovery: “what am i now?” he asks, after having asked the listeners if they know who they are; and his despair seems tied to insecurities -- “what if i’m someone i don’t want around? / what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? / what if you’re someone i just want around?” (notice the flip of pronouns in the last two; switching the blame. harry and louis seem to do that a lot; the blame is passed from one to another in songs. he blames himself in this one, though: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”) the biggest insecurity lies in the line: “i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again,” in which harry just wants.. to be needed; to be loved and to be in love. overall he’s asking for redemption, whatever of.

to be so lonely is still sad, but obviously a rise; a rebirth. “don’t blame me for falling / i was just a little boy / don’t blame the drunk caller / i wasn’t ready for it all / you can’t blame me, darling / not even a little bit / i was away / and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry” -- the opening verse is just all excuses, all flimsy at best; pushing the blame around. “i was just a little boy” had me screaming; “don’t blame the drunk caller” is distancing himself as far away as possible even though....that’s him, drunk-calling; he said so in falling: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.” the last one is not even trying; he just straight up says he’s arrogant.. lol. again he’s rooting onto insecurites: “i just hope you see me / in a little better light” asks his lover not to only see him as the stupid little boy who became a needy and arrogant drunk caller; and again he pleads for mercy with rather nonsensical logic: “do you think it’s easy? / being of the jealous kind?” overall, these three songs together could be interpreted as a breakup, though the romantic songs in the album would support better that there have been really rough patches in their relationship; specifically times in which they were caught in untimely scheduling inconveniences amid fights. but see it how you will.

she is a projection. harry tries out the ‘normal guy’ archetype, giving his character a nine-to-five office job and the predictable (supposedly married) life with kids; he likely did this to try out a different perspective of his feelings and/or to appeal to his audience, who is mostly not made up of millionaires. right away, he’s pretending, with the most basic of things: “[he] sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon / around 13:32 / like he knows what to do.” as for the whole chorus and “a woman who’s just in his head / and she sleeps in his bed / while he plays pretend” is, to me, the woman inside him who aches to be seen; she represent his struggles with binary genders, both of which are oppressing. “he takes a boat out / imagines just sailing away / and not telling his mates / he wouldn't know what to say” is literally eroda?? and shows communication issues. again.

side c: ascending

sunflower makes the yellow comeback.. loud and in your face. the sunflower is commonly associated with the sun tarot card, which often depicts them with children, who are mentioned... the card stands for clarity and success. this song is thematically like watermelon sugar and adore you, but it just has that stoner vibe you know ? “kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall” triggered “even as young as you are.” again, there are communication issues; “i’ve been trying hard not to talk to you” “let me inside, i wanna get to know you / wish i could get to know you” “i was just tongue-tied / i’m still tongue-tied.” “i’ve got your face / hung up high in the gallery” again shows adoration; with cherry’s “does he take you walking through his parents’ gallery?” it could be interpreted as, are his parents showing you off like i do? a big note about it: “hung up high in the gallery / out of this shade” in the light! this is major.

canyon moon shows yellow in “the world’s happy waiting / doors yellow, broken, blue” -- happy, first of all. the doors are portals that they’ve taken, will take, or could take; some are happy, some deceitful, some sad. i find it very interesting that in she “the man drops his kid off at school” and in this one jenny tells her husband to “go get the kids from school.” “two weeks and i’ll be home” loud loud loud. paris and rome are both romantic cities. “[she -- jenny?] pretends not to know the words” again shows some pretending, perhaps to show that we all pretend about things in life, even mundane activites... just a fun song about being away and missing each other like right now.

treat people with kindness is the only song outside of side b that does not have yellow. i think that is because, though this is a happy song, it’s jus a cover up -- he’s burying his grief in the music and drugs/drinks. “and it’s just another day / and if our friends all pass away / it’s okay.” “feeling good in my skin / i just keep on dancing” shows the other effect of numbing all the insecurities and fears he normally carries. 

side d: settling. the first sign fine line is a track to be paid attention to is that it’s the titular the track. the second push is giving it its own side on the record. 

fine line is another side of she, for which i liked this eloquent explanation. it’s a drastic shift in mood from tpwk to fine line; harry truly shows how vulnerable he is. he’s divided -- “you sunshine, you temptress”; god, when i read/heard that i cried. so beautiful, so appeasing, but it looks like such a distant dream. unachievable. furthermore i think making this song about a relationship, or anyone other than harry and harry’s inner demons is belittling it; belittling his internal struggles to reach the so desired fine line...

[christinegrrl]

#AGilmoreChristmas Day 17

Title: There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays

Word Count: ~2200

Characters: Jess Mariano, Luke Danes

Prompt: “Jess’ first real Christmas, I just imagine he never really had one growing up?”

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to @alspancakeworld for running this again and for having me back! Make sure you check out all the other wonderful works here!

Disclaimer: I really wanted this to be longer and better, but life kinda got in the way, so I apologize for it not being my best work. Also, this is a little bit on the sappy side and may not be 100% realistic, but what is Christmas for if not to be sappy?

There was a tree, with lights and ornaments and even a star. A star that he’d put on. Jesus, he was growing soft.

He could claim that Luke insisted, that he had no other choice to decorating the tree unless he wanted to hear Luke ranting about ‘family time’ and ‘making new traditions’ and all that crap. He could say that he didn’t care that he finally got a tree, after years of begging followed by years of silently pining for something even resembling a Christmas decoration. He could say he wasn’t excited for tomorrow morning when Luke would make pancakes and he would get to open the present his uncle probably felt obligated to get him and he would finally have a half-decent Christmas if he managed not to completely screw it up.

The truth was this: Jess Mariano had never had a real Christmas, so he was actually excited when his uncle dragged in a rugged tree and insisted they throw tinsel and crap on it, even though he knew the man probably would have prefered to ship him back to Liz’s during the break for even two weeks of peace. Hell, Jess had prepared himself to be told he was better off in New York, Luke had done his best but he was a hopeless case. Even with Luke’s flimsy lie about Liz calling and saying that Jess should experience Stars Hollow at Christmastime, he had never expected the tree or the badly hidden presents with his name on them or that he’d be sitting here, on December 24, watching It’s A Wonderful Life with Luke and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Of course, he had complained the whole time, protesting against Luke’s childish ornaments and proposal that they bake Christmas cookies like he had with his mom as a kid and choice in movies (who the hell wants to watch a movie about a depressed guy trying to kill himself on Christmas Eve?)

(He didn’t want to think about that Christmas when he was nine that he spent in the waiting room of a hospital…)

Luke had just rolled his eyes and explained to him that this was the first time in a long while he was able to spend Christmas with family so he was going to enjoy it. (He tried not to think about  what would happen when Luke inevitably stopped putting up with his crap and negativity and shipped him off.)

“So… that was a good movie, I guess? Kind of depressing, for a Christmas movie.”

Jess softly snorted. Was Luke so out of touch with the rest of the world that he hadn’t seen a fifty-year-old movie? He focused his attention on the book in front of him and the page he had been rereading for the past fifteen minutes - the ending of the movie was worth rewatching, okay?

Luke clapped his hands nervously. “Okay. So. It’s getting late, so you should probably head off to bed.”

“Wouldn’t want to give Santa a reason to put double the amount of coal in my stocking this year, now would we?” For all he knew, the poorly wrapped presents he found in the closet were for someone else - he wanted Luke to know he wasn’t expecting anything under the tree tomorrow. His uncle had already done enough by letting him stay here despite how insufferable he had been; Jess didn’t want him to feel obligated.

“Well maybe if you go to sleep Santa will forgive your sins and leave you something under the tree.

“Didn’t know Christmas came with a confessional.” When they had established this comfortable, almost domestic rapport between them Jess had no idea. He wasn’t complaining, though. It was nice to feel safe enough that he didn’t have to blast music every night to fall asleep. Enjoy it while it lasts.

He shook the thought from his mind and moved past Luke to settle on the air mattress. Anyway, he needed Luke to fall asleep so that he could sneak downstairs and fix the newly broken coffee machine - his gift to Luke considering he only had two days notice that they were actually exchanging gifts and little change given the stack of books he had left outside a certain bookish brunette’s window.

“Hey Jess, I meant to ask you: is there anything specific you want to do tomorrow? A dish you normally eat, or a movie you usually watch, or anything like that? I don’t want you to give up your usual Christmas traditions for all the ones I’m making you do.”

Sometimes Jess couldn’t believe how little Luke knew. A part of him was bitter because his uncle knew what a flake Liz could be and yet he still wasn’t there for him when he was younger, but he recognized that Luke had his own life and had he known how bad it had been, he would have intervened a long time ago.

As for traditions, there were plenty of those, though none he particularly felt like repeating. There was the one from five to ten years old where Liz would promise him a gift - and looking back, he believed she fully intended to follow through had she actually been sober or sane enough to remember - and he would wake up on Christmas morning to nothing but her admonishing him for crying and being a spoiled little brat. There was the one where he would steal himself a book each year, the first one being a beautifully illustrated edition of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, but he didn’t think Luke would be willing to bring that one back. There was the one where he would hum Christmas music to himself before he fell asleep, trying to think of warm fires and sleigh rides and snowmen and anything else besides what he could hear going on in the next room with his mother and her latest boyfriend.

Luke didn’t know about any of those. For a moment, Jess contemplated telling him, maybe the time he realized Santa wasn’t real or the time he really did get coal from one of Liz’s hysterical boyfriends or even the Christmas spent in the hospital. But his uncle didn’t need that guilt on his shoulders, not when he was doing his best now.

“Well, you already ruled out the coal, so I guess all my traditions are off the table.” The joke fell flat as Luke’s face fell in understanding. Not trying to ruin the decent mood they were both in, Jess continued: “Really, Luke, whatever you want to do is fine. I already appreciate having two days in a row off from working in the diner, so I don’t need anything else. You don’t have to do anything special for me. We can just have a normal day.”

Luke’s sad face didn’t dissipate. “It’s Christmas, Jess. You deserve special.” With that, he walked into the bathroom, leaving Jess with a stinging sensation in his eyes that he didn’t want to think about.

He pretended to be asleep when Luke came back out, pretended not to feel Luke rubbing his shoulder in comfort, pretended not to hear Luke’s “Goodnight, Jess. Merry Christmas”, pretended not to acknowledge the realization that he actually liked it here in the cramped apartment with the overbearing uncle in a small, crazy town.

After Luke’s snoring had continued for a good ten minutes, Jess crept downstairs to the empty diner and set to work fixing the coffee machine. “God, this thing is like thirty years old,” he muttered. “No wonder everything in this place is always breaking.” He enjoyed the peace that night came with, liked that he could let his guard down and think out loud.

He thought back to Liz. Even though he resented her for sending him to his own personal circle of hell, she always got really bad this time of year, and he had taken it upon himself in recent years to keep her safe. Against his better judgment, he picked up the phone and dialed her last-known telephone number, instantly regretting his decision when an obviously drunk man picked up, evidence of a party in the background.

“What?” the man snapped. You really picked a keeper this time, Liz.

Jess sighed. “Is Liz there?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Just tell her it’s Jess.”

The man grumbled, but after a few minutes of listening to the infinitely fascinating background conversations of the party (“Man, I’m telling you, Christmas is made up so all those religious nuts can justify spending a shit-ton of money on their kids. It’s all a government conspiracy”) Liz came to the phone.

“Jess? Is that you?” she slurred.

“Liz,” he replied curtly.

“Aw, hi baby, how’re ya doin’? I bet you’re real good. See, I told you that you’d be better in Stars Hollow with your uncle. I jus’ needed a little space is all.”

Jess tried to ignore the pang in his heart at the words. This was a terrible idea. “Right. Well. I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby, I lo-” She was interrupted by raucous cheering in the background, and then all he heard was the dial tone.

Slamming the phone onto its cradle, he tried to calm his erratic breathing. He thought he had gotten over his mother’s indifference to his feelings, but apparently months of not having to interact with her had weakened his ability to ignore her flippant remarks.

His time in Stars Hollow had made him comfortable - too comfortable - with his surroundings, so he barely registered the footsteps on the stairs, only realizing Luke had probably heard him and was coming downstairs to accuse him of stealing Christmas or some shit like that moments before he appeared from behind the curtain.

“Jess? What are you doing down here? It’s the middle of the night. Are you okay? Did something happen?” His concern was evident as he looked the boy up and down to ensure he wasn’t physically hurt.

Here was a man who had taken him in when he had been a pain in the ass, who had tried to give him a real Christmas, who had bought him presents for Christ’s sake, who was genuinely worried when his nephew wasn’t in his bed in the middle of the night. Jess could have cried.

He didn’t; he still was reluctant to show weakness, knowing that weakness always left you vulnerable and people would take advantage of those vulnerabilities. But he didn’t lie, or respond with scathing sarcasm, or comment on Luke being down in the diner without his baseball cap on, surely the first time that’s ever happened. He was just tired. So he told as much of the truth as he could.

He looked his uncle straight in the eye. “I was fixing the coffee machine.” No snark. No concealment. He even would have spilled about calling Liz were it not one in the morning; he really didn’t feel like dealing with the hundreds of questions Luke would have.

Luke looked around, taking in the toolbox on the counter and the red light blinking on the machine and the boy who looked so young in this moment, no pretenses or facades, just a kid. “Okay. Why?” He tried to keep all hints of accusation out of his tone, hoping his nephew would finally open up to him about something.

He looked down at his feet. “I didn’t buy you a Christmas present. I thought maybe this could be it. I know it’s not a lot but…”

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Luke with shiny eyes and a small smile on his face. “It’s great, kid. Thanks. But you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Jess shrugged. “You didn’t either. But you did.” At Luke’s confused glance, he continued: “I found the wrapped presents in the closet a couple days ago. I didn’t open them or anything, but I saw the gift tags. Thanks.” Thanks for putting up with me and trying to give me a good Christmas memory to look back on.

His uncle seemed to know what he meant by the loaded thanks. “You’re welcome. Now, back to bed, or else you really will get coal in your stocking tomorrow.”

Jess smiled as he climbed the stairs. So this is what family does for Christmas. Not half bad.

The next morning would bring delicious-smelling pancakes and hot chocolate and opening up a stack of books (“Rory helped me pick them”) and credit for Andrew’s bookstore and a new green jacket (“I noticed your yellow one was getting worn out and it gets really cold up here, you won’t survive without a good coat” “It gets just as cold here as it does in New York, Uncle Luke”). But Jess was perfectly content, in this moment, staring at the ceiling and hearing Luke’s soft snores way too early on Christmas Day. I guess this is what home feels like. Huh.

[adjectivebear]

Can’t Believe You Don’t Know

Pairing: Zevran x Female Amell Rating: NSFW Summary: Solona believes she's unattractive. Zevran vehemently disagrees. And what's more, he knows exactly how to prove it. (Did I finally finish my ancient Kink Meme WIP? Why yes, yes I did.)

“Ah, there you are, my dear. I was beginning to think you were hiding from me.”

“Not at all,” Solona lied, unable to contain a disappointed sigh as she closed her book and lifted her gaze to the assassin sauntering toward her, already mourning the pleasant evening that could have been.

They’d been staying at Castle Redcliffe while the Arl made his preparations for the trip to Denerim, and though her companions were getting more restless by the day, Solona was rather enjoying it. It wasn’t that she hated camping—well, no, she did hate it, actually, which was why it was so nice to finally be indoors again, where it was warm and dry and blessedly free of insects, with real food, a proper bed, and plenty of light to read by.

And yes, more places to hide from Zevran.

It wasn’t that she hated him, either. Indeed, she rather liked him when he was slicing up darkspawn, engaged in meaningful conversation, or joking with the rest of the party. She imagined they could have been very good friends if he took slightly less amusement in playing at seducing her.

Or if she didn’t wish so desperately that he weren’t playing.

For a few precious hours she’d dared to believe he was serious. No one had ever flirted with her before, and he was so handsome, and yes, he’d tried to kill her, but she’d been more than willing to forgive that particular offense if it meant she would no longer have to resign herself to the overwhelming likelihood of dying a virgin (she knew how pathetic that sounded, but there was a bloody Blight going on, and beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers). But then he’d started flirting with everyone else, and Solona had understood.

He wasn’t interested in her. He just liked flirting.

She couldn’t believe she’d ever been foolish enough to believe otherwise. She knew what she looked like. She was chubby, no taller than an elf, could not so much as look at a sunny day without sprouting a dozen new freckles, and had an unruly mane of not-quite-brown, not-quite-blond hair that stuck out at odd angles even when she wound it tightly into a bun. She’d been a laughably easy target back at Kinloch Hold, and that was even before her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, granting her the dubious honor of being the oldest virgin in the Circle and earning her the horrid nickname ‘Saint Solona’ as though her continued chastity were born of some prudishness of her own rather than everyone else’s refusal to have sex with her.

No one had ever fancied her. It was absurd to think anyone ever could.

Well, no—that wasn’t entirely true. Cullen had fancied her. But he hadn’t bothered to tell her so until it was far too late for them to do anything about it, and after what had happened during Uldred’s rebellion…

No. It didn’t bear thinking on. It was done now, and there was no use in regretting the things she couldn’t change. Like the inevitability of dying alone and untouched, the crueler part of her mind supplied helpfully.

She scowled, suddenly in even less of a mood for Zevran’s nonsense.

In the grand scheme of things, his teasing was probably was a stupid thing to be bothered by. However much it felt like he was deliberately taunting her, she knew he was just having a laugh and that it was ultimately nothing personal. And yet, despite constantly reminding herself of precisely that, the playful mockery never failed get a rise out of her, which only encouraged him to do it more frequently.

Much more frequently. While originally he’d flirted indiscriminately with the entire party, he’d been focusing solely on her for months now, to the point where it seemed that half of their interactions ended with her stomping off in frustration. It wasn’t a tendency she was proud of, and lately she’d begun to resort to simply avoiding him.

Or not so simply. Avoiding someone was actually stunningly difficult when you shared a camp.

Apparently, Zevran was keen to make it just as difficult in Redcliffe.

Solona sighed again as he got closer, the warm glow of the lamplight playing distractingly over his brown skin and those unreasonably tight trousers he favored. He leaned casually against the table next to her, presumably to make absolutely certain she’d noticed the latter. She felt her cheeks flush and gritted her teeth. She would not play this game tonight. She was reading, damn it, and she was just getting to the good part.

“Was there something you needed?” she asked in a clipped tone, forcing her eyes to stay locked on his face. Those damned trousers left nothing to the imagination, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of catching her gawking at his legs, backside, or… other areas in the vicinity.

“My dear Solona,” he said, pronouncing her name in that maddeningly Antivan way of his, “my intention was simply to provide some company. Look at you, all alone in this dusty library. What a sad way to spend an evening! Why are you here, and not celebrating your victories with Alistair and Leliana?”

Solona snorted. Not long ago, she would have been with them, but now she doubted she’d have been particularly welcome. She adored her friends, but sometimes she rued the day they became a couple. “As much as I love being a third wheel, I thought the night might be better spent catching up on my reading.”

“Oh? What is it that captivates you so?” Solona moved to grab the book, but Zevran’s hands were quicker. He snatched it up, glancing briefly at the cover illustration before turning to the summary inscribed on the back and reading aloud. “‘Enchantress of His Heart: the sultry tale of the forbidden love between the handsome and noble Knight-Captain Marius and the beautiful, seductive Lucienne. Their passion burns brighter than any flame she can conjure, but how long can they keep it a secret—’”

Solona seized the book, her cheeks burning. “I never claimed it was intellectually stimulating reading,” she said defensively, clutching it to her chest lest he make another grab for it.

He laughed. “No doubt it is stimulating in other ways, yes?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” she said primly. “And even if I did, so what? A girl’s allowed a little wish-fulfillment every now and then.”

She realized she’d just handed him the perfect bait the second the words left her mouth, but by then it was too late. She scolded herself as he leaned closer, fixing her with that smoldering look he so loved to employ.

“You don’t need fiction for that, Solona. I assure you, I am both willing and quite able to fulfill your every wish.”

Solona played off her shiver as a sudden chill, counting her blessings that the dampness between her thighs was known to her alone. That she’d have had no good excuse for. “I wish to be allowed to continue reading.”

“Of course! How rude of me to interrupt. In fact, I shall join you.”

Before Solona could protest, he’d selected a volume from the pile of books in the center of the table, settled into an adjacent chair, and begun to read. She groaned inwardly, but grudgingly admired the lengths to which Zevran would go to annoy her. If he’d been even half as dedicated an assassin, he must have been the golden boy of the Antivan Crows. Still, he was being quiet now, which was a vast improvement, and since there was little hope of convincing him to leave, she decided to just accept it and reopened to the page she’d left off on.

It was initially a bit awkward, as she’d just gotten to one of the steamier scenes, but after a few moments she’d all but forgotten Zevran’s presence, the occasional sound of a page being turned the only reminder that she was not alone. She felt her irritation begin to wane. Was it possible he really did just want to keep her company? Perhaps she’d judged him unfairly.

She’d finished one chapter and was well into the next before she chanced a furtive glance at her companion.

Or, rather, she’d intended it as a furtive glance. The secrecy was rather lost when the target of one’s gaze already had his eyes fixed intently upon her.

“Do you stare at everyone like that?” she asked, shifting awkwardly in her seat and praying to the Maker that the dim light camouflaged the hot flush rising in her cheeks. The smirk playing at Zevran’s lips spoke to the contrary.

“Not everyone. But a beautiful woman like yourself?” He reached out to toy with a lock of her hair. “Why not? I am sure you draw many stares, from men and even other women.”

“Oh, for the—honestly!” she sputtered, slamming her book shut and rising from the table so quickly that she nearly knocked over her chair, suddenly more furious than she’d ever been in her life, and not at all sure whether this new fury was aimed at Zevran or herself. He had the nerve to look confused, which only fueled her rage. “You are absolutely insufferable!”

“I am... not sure what—”

“The more fool I for hoping we might actually be able to pass the evening like civilized people,” she continued, shoving her belongings haphazardly into her satchel, “because you obviously cannot be in the same room with me for more than five minutes without getting the overwhelming urge to mock me.”

He began to open his mouth, but Solona was having none of it, determined to speak her piece before the angry tears prickling behind her eyes began to flow. She was a sodding Grey Warden now, not the pathetic schoolgirl who’d been bullied at Kinloch Hold. She would not weep.

“Can’t you see that I don’t think it’s funny? Can’t you just leave me be? Don’t you understand how cruel it is to make me—?” she bit her tongue then, mortified to have come so close to confessing herself, to admitting just how deeply his playful flirtations affected her.

Maker, she was pathetic. Tears threatening in earnest now, she abandoned the half-packed satchel in favor of just leaving as quickly as possible.

But this, like a peaceful evening of reading, was not in the cards.

She had not gotten three steps toward the door before a hand wrapped around her wrist, its grip not so tight as to be uncomfortable, but difficult to break nonetheless. Resisting the juvenile urge to stamp her foot in frustration, Solona reluctantly turned to face her captor, who still wore the same damnable expression of puzzlement.

“Mocking you? Is that what you think?” The uncharacteristic softness in his voice left her too stunned to reply, snapping out of it only when he raised a hand toward her cheek. She dodged the touch, irritated anew.

“What do you expect me to think?”

“That I mean what I say?” The suggestion earned a particularly unladylike snort from her. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually!” she snapped, taking some morbid pleasure in the frown it brought to his face.

“Why?”

A mirthless laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “What do you mean, why? Andraste’s mercy, Zevran, how stupid do you think I am? What could you possibly want with some fat, freckled little mage?”

The frown deepened. “You say such things about yourself, yet think me cruel for saying you are beautiful? I am not certain I follow your logic.”

Solona huffed and stared at a spot on the wall.

“But no matter,” he went on, waving away the issue. “I do find you quite lovely, my dear, but no doubt you still question my sincerity. Perhaps a bit of convincing is in order, yes?”

Solona was not quite sure she trusted the purr in his voice, nor the gleam in those golden eyes, but if Zevran marked her wariness, he paid her no heed, instead giving off the appearance of one deep in thought.

“Hmm, where to begin? Ah, yes! I believe it was your eyes which first caught my attention, my fair Warden,” he said, pressing blithely onward despite the suspicious narrowing of the features in question. “They are truly remarkable. I have always been partial to green eyes, but yours are a particularly enchanting hue, like new leaves at the first light of dawn. They remind me of the Brecilian Forest.”

“They make you feel as though something is going to jump out and eat you?”

“Why must you always make the seduction so difficult?”

“Right, how silly of me. My eyes are like the Brecilian Forest. By all means, go on.”

Zevran gave her a mildly exasperated look, but quickly recovered and continued as though she’d never spoken. “And you have such beautiful hands.” Solona bit back a gasp as he ghosted his fingertips along the insides of her wrists before capturing her hands in his own. She tried not to think about how warm they were. “So graceful and soft. Getting to feel these lovely hands upon my flesh almost makes it worth getting wounded in battle.”

“And to think, all this time I assumed you were just careless.”

“I am beginning to suspect that you and Alistair are somehow related.”

For reasons she could not explain, Solona burst out laughing at that. And then found it remarkably difficult to stop. So preoccupied was she that she did not notice his hands moving once more until one was cupping her cheek.

That sobered her.

Her first impulse was to move away, to shake him off, and yet she found that she couldn’t force her muscles to obey. The feel of his palm against her cheek was… nice. The warm, tingly feeling she’d come to associate with Zevran’s presence began to spread through her body.

Oh, she was in trouble.

“You laugh too rarely, Solona,” he said softly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “It is a sweet sound.”

“I don’t—”

“Shh. No more commentary from you, I think. For now you only listen, yes?”

Solona found herself nodding, having at some point become completely enthralled by those breathtaking golden eyes. Eyes which were now mere inches from her own. Too close. Much too close...

“You have such soft skin,” he said, running his knuckles along her jawline. “And these freckles of yours—ah, would you forgive me the pun if I said I found them bewitching?” Solona’s breath caught in her chest as he leaned forward to rub his cheek against hers.

Sweet Andraste, this couldn’t be happening. She must be dreaming, imagining the caress of his skin, the soft scent of leather that clung to him long after he’d changed out of his armor, the hot breath tickling her ear as he nuzzled her and—oh, Maker—the warm press of his lips against her temple. Any moment now she would wake up in bed, hot and bothered and alone.

Wouldn’t she?

“And you smell divine,” he purred, the vibrations against her ear sending shivers down her spine. “Like books and incense. When I was a child that is how I imagined all mages must smell. In fact, it is only you.”

She was briefly compelled to ask if he routinely went around sniffing mages in order to test that theory, but the words died on her tongue, replaced by a gasp at the first gentle nip on her earlobe. She felt his lips curve into what she could only assume was a wicked smile.

“I think you like that.”

The shudder that wracked her body seemed to be all the answer he needed. Slowly, teasingly, he began nibbling his way up her ear, each little scrape of teeth sending a corresponding jolt straight to her groin.

No, this couldn’t be a dream. Her pleasant dreams were never this vivid. Which begged the decidedly unpleasant question of why, exactly, this thing that was actually happening was actually happening. Some spell, perhaps? Residual energy left over by the demon that had possessed the Arl’s son? Or something of her own doing? Maker, had Avernus’s potion turned her into a blood mage without her knowledge? Was that even possible?

“You are thinking, my dear,” Zevran admonished. “You must stop that.”

Solona meant to argue, really she did, but he chose that exact moment to slide his tongue along the whorl of her ear, making her toes curl and rendering her incapable of any response more coherent than a needy mewl. The rational part of her mind protested that this was absurd, that she couldn’t possibly be this desperate, even as she eagerly tilted her head to allow him better access, her cooperation rewarded by an enthusiastic series of nips and kisses along her neck.

Yes, thinking… thinking was entirely overrated.

She let out a whine of protest when he pulled away, only to be distracted once more when he brought both hands up to cup her face, his bright eyes locking with hers. Her heart was pounding so hard, her breath coming so quickly that she worried she might faint.

“And your smile… my dear, my heart aches that you do not grace me with it more often. I’ve seen many great beauties, and yet when a smile lights your face they all seem plain in comparison.”

She flinched back in surprise when he leaned closer. He looked confused and slightly hurt, and she’d just begun to berate herself for ruining everything when realization dawned on his face.

“Sweet Solona,” he said softly, tracing the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. “Has no one ever kissed you?”

Embarrassment washed over her. Slowly, she shook her head.

“We must fix that,” he said, closing the distance between them.

Her knees nearly buckled at the touch of his lips, and she clutched his shoulders to keep herself upright. It was somehow at once exactly and nothing like how she’d expected a kiss to feel, and Solona had spent a great deal of time thinking about kissing lately, due in equal parts to her lamentable taste in literature and the fact that Alistair and Leliana couldn’t go five minutes without doing it, which was either adorable or nauseating depending on her mood.

This kiss was not at all as described in the books. There were no fireworks flashing before her eyes, nor did the earth tremble beneath her feet, nor was she especially conscious of her body thrumming with desire, whatever that felt like. But his lips were soft and warm against hers, she felt pleasantly toasty all over as though she’d had a bit too much wine, and she was fairly certain that if she reached between her legs at that moment, she would have found herself drenched.

Her hands slid down his back, her means of supporting herself evolving into an embrace. A thrill of excitement shot through her when his tongue played at the seam of her lips and she obediently parted them, allowing him passage. Having another person’s tongue in her mouth did not feel nearly as odd as it really ought to, and she must have moaned at the sensation because she felt him laugh as he flicked his tongue teasingly along her own, coaxing her to respond in kind.

And respond she did. She was unpracticed and clumsy, and it couldn’t possibly have been a very good kiss for him, but he gave no indication of displeasure as his tongue danced with hers, gently instructing her on the proper form. She had nearly gotten the hang of it when a sudden chill gave her pause.

She broke the kiss and glanced down to find her robes opened to the waist, Zevran’s fingers still upon the laces. She shot him an incredulous look. He grinned back, entirely unrepentant, and though she knew she ought to have been scandalized, she found herself trying not to laugh.

“You can’t pick locks to save your life, but you can get a girl’s robes open without her being any the wiser?”

“Locks are not quite so easily distracted by a thorough snogging,” he pointed out, sliding his hands along the edges of her robes. “Now, let’s see what we have here…”

He attempted to slide the garment off her shoulders, and Solona immediately clasped it shut. She looked away, blushing furiously.

“Ah, Solona, forgive me.” He pulled her into his arms. “Forgive me, that was too bold. I did not mean to make you feel threatened.”

“No,” she said into his neck, kissing him there to prove she meant it. “No, it wasn’t, I didn’t, it’s just…”

“You are shy?” he guessed, and she nodded, because it was easier than verbalizing the truth. He released her, grinning once more. “Of course you are! Where are my manners, trying to relieve you of your clothing while I stand fully dressed before you? You have my humblest apologies.”

Undoubtedly, the honorable thing would have been to screw up the nerve to tell him what was really on her mind, but Solona was only human, and the impossibly handsome man on whom she’d harbored a massive crush for the past several months had just divested himself of his shirt, so perhaps she could be forgiven. And if she couldn’t be, the sight before her was well worth an eternity in the circle of the Void reserved for dishonest ninnies.

She had seen Zevran bare-chested before, but he’d been bleeding on each of those occasions, which was hardly conducive to ogling unless you were a blood mage and into that sort of thing. Now, with no such impediment, she found she could not tear her eyes away.

Maker, how was it possible for any man to be so perfect? He may as well have been carved by a sculptor: lithe and muscular, every delectable contour so marvelously defined that just looking at him felt somehow sinful. He also had not been joking about the extent of his tattoos. There were a number of them curving sinuously along his arms and torso, all seemingly designed for the sole purpose of emphasizing his magnificent form.

“It’s just occurred to me that if you’d taken your shirt off the day we met, I would be dead right now,” Solona admitted, having quite a bit of trouble averting her gaze from the sharp V of his hips.

Zevran laughed. “And what fun would that have been for either of us?” He took up her hands, kissing each palm before placing them on his chest, and Solona was briefly mesmerized by the contrast of her white hands against his dark skin. Then she became aware of the heat and texture of that skin, and suddenly mere aesthetics were the furthest thing from her mind. Her fingers drifted over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw.

Something childish took over inside her as her fingers approached his ears. Solona had always liked elf ears. She’d always secretly wanted to touch them, just to see what they felt like. It was beyond her comprehension how anything so delicate and pretty had inspired a racial slur.

She had also heard rumors that those lovely ears were extremely sensitive. She traced a fingertip along the edge of one, barely stifling a giggle when Zevran let out a hiss of pleasure.

Ah—the rumors were true, then. That was good to know. She traced it again, then, growing bolder, leaned in to kiss it. He made another pleased sound, grasping her about the waist, and she really did giggle. She mimicked the attentions he’d paid to her earlier, spurred along by his little sighs and the unconscious flexing of his fingers when she found a particularly good spot. She flicked her tongue against the tip and he groaned, clutching her waist nearly hard enough to bruise.

“You are not as innocent as you look,” he said, sounding slightly breathless. His hands covered hers again, prompting them to continue their exploration of his body, and shyly she let them begin to drift lower, skimming over his toned arms before traveling inward to study his chest and stomach, tracing the lines of each tattoo she encountered along the way.

“I look innocent?”

“Terribly innocent,” he confirmed as her fingers trailed along his taut abdominal muscles. “Saintly, almost. It makes me want to do wicked things to you. Ah, you’ve no idea how becomingly you blush!”

Solona stubbornly ducked her head to hide her coloring cheeks and Zevran laughed at her, at which she might have summoned the will to feign annoyance had she been any less fascinated by the vibration of it within his chest or the small, brown nipples pebbling beneath her fingers. The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. Saintly, indeed, she thought, placing a fingertip on each nipple.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised noise he made as she sent the first gentle pulse of electricity into the sensitive flesh. A second pulse had him purring, his head tipping back as his eyes slipped shut.

“You approve, then?” Solona said, setting a rhythmic pattern of many smaller bursts of magic. “One of the mages gained himself quite the fan club with this trick. The other girls couldn’t shut up about it. It seemed worthwhile to figure it out for myself.”

“Oh? Is this the cause of those delicious sounds coming from your tent at night?” Solona’s mortification must have been palpable, because he continued, “Not to worry, my dear, you are perfectly quiet. Elf ears are keener than most. Especially when they happen to be pressed up against your tent.”

Solona sputtered indignantly, blushing anew, and he chuckled, preempting any more coherent scolding by kissing her soundly. When he finally pulled back she was too dazed to recall why she had taken exception to his confessed misbehavior in the first place.

“Can you blame me? Knowing that you are right there, pleasuring yourself, a flimsy bit of canvas the only thing keeping us apart? The temptation is too great.” The liquid heat pooling in her groin had Solona fidgeting helplessly as he leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek, his voice dropping to a sultry purr. “What do you think of, my pretty witch, when you touch yourself?” He dragged his tongue lazily down her neck. “Do you imagine that it is my fingers between your legs? My tongue?"

Solona swallowed hard. The answer, of course, was a resounding yes, but her pride—what little that remained—refused to permit so effortless a victory. “That’s rather presumptuous of you,” she said, the whimper that escaped as he nipped sharply at the juncture of her neck and shoulder doing little for the air of cool composure she’d striven to project. “What makes you think you feature at all?”

“Excluding the position in which we currently find ourselves?” One finger found the gap in her robes, eliciting another whimper as it scorched a path from her clavicle, between her breasts, and down her stomach, stopping to trace a slow circle around her navel. “I am not blind, Solona, and I am certainly not naïve. I know what it means when a woman looks at me as you do.”

“I… I don’t—” she began weakly, only to be silenced by his lips again. When he released her, he held the edges of her robes in his grasp once more, but made no move to undress her. He caught her gaze, and Solona realized belatedly that he was waiting for permission. “You won’t like what you see,” she blurted.

“Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that.” There was something approaching tenderness in his expression, but Solona did not have time to marvel at the strangeness of such a thing because in the next instant her robes were being pushed from her shoulders and she was squeezing her eyes shut, unable to watch that expression turn to disappointment. If that meant she was a terrible coward, so be it.

The fabric slid down, pooling at the belt still slung around her hips as her top half was bared to his view. He said nothing, and with each passing second Solona’s heart sank a bit further.

He found her disgusting. She’d known he would. He may have thought she was cute when she was dressed, but naked…

It’s not as though I didn’t warn him, she thought sourly, more painfully aware than ever of her own imperfections. If only she were like the girls in the Circle who could eat whatever they wanted and never gain an ounce, or the other girls who just never seemed to be particularly hungry in the first place. Or, at the very least, the other girls who were just as heavy as she, but had large enough breasts that no one seemed to mind.

Solona felt her own breasts—her sad, disproportionately small breasts which hadn’t grown a bit since she was twelve, no matter how fervently she hoped and prayed for them to do so—tightening, though whether it was a result of the sudden chill or her mental scrutiny, she couldn’t say.

“Oh, Solona. You are even more beautiful than I thought you would be.”

Solona’s eyes flew open in surprise to find him regarding her quite strangely indeed. One of his hands skated down her ribs, leaving gooseflesh in its wake as it came to curl around her waist, giving her a little squeeze there.

“So soft and lush,” he said, his free hand trailing softly over her bare skin. “These cold Fereldan nights would not be nearly so inhospitable with you in my arms.” He ran his knuckles along the underside of a breast, which tightened further at the attention. Solona flushed.

“They’re too small,” she said, feeling the need to apologize.

“They are perfect,” he corrected, cupping them in his warm palms. “You see? Just the right size. And these,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples in a way that made her knees go wobbly, “these I am truly enamored with. I have never seen nipples quite so pink. How pretty they are.”

He gave them a gentle tweak and she nearly lost her balance altogether. Looking entirely too pleased with himself, he maneuvered her around to lean against the table before resuming his attack, teasing her with soft strokes and hard pinches until she was gasping for air and gripping the edge of the table for dear life. Why, in all the years she’d spent doing those exact things to herself, had it never felt like this before, the very lightest of touches sending throbs of desperate, aching need to her cunt?

She barely noticed the muscular thigh insinuating itself between her legs until he ground it against her—hard.

Pride, dignity, and other such inconveniences fell by the wayside as she rubbed herself against it, her oversensitive flesh craving the sweet friction it granted. He obliged her with firm pressure, and she was vaguely aware of making noises she wouldn’t own up to later as a hot coil of pleasure began tightening in her belly more quickly than it ever did when she was alone in her bed. One more nudge, one more hard tug on her nipples and she’d be done for. Almost. Oh, Maker, almost...

The hands and thigh withdrew suddenly, and Solona nearly screamed in frustration. She glared at Zevran, who smirked back before pulling her flush against him and claiming her mouth once more, which was entirely unfair because she wanted to stay cross, and it was all but impossible to do that when his delicious bare skin was pressed up against her and he was doing those things with his lips and teeth and tongue.

She conceded defeat, moaning softly into that unbelievably talented mouth and slipping her arms around him to tighten the embrace. It took her a few seconds longer than it really should have to notice that there was something hard pressing into her pelvis, and she must have let out a startled noise when she finally realized what it was, because she felt him smile against her lips.

“In case you still had your doubts,” he said, his voice rich with amusement as he captured a trembling hand and led it to the bulge in his trousers, “I can assure you that this does not happen unless I very much do like what I see.”

She supposed he had a point, there.

She gave the bulge an experimental caress, drawing a groan from his lips that somehow had her throbbing in anticipation. Zevran caught her hand again, this time depositing it pointedly on the laces of his trousers. A glance up at his face gave confirmation of the silent instructions and, blushing furiously, Solona set about her task. Her fingers felt awkward and clumsy as they worked the laces, and she suddenly, irrationally wondered if she ought to just flee—a notion she quickly abandoned as the evidence of his arousal sprang from confinement.

With only medical diagrams and the vague descriptions in romance novels to draw from, Solona wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected a real penis to look like, but she was quickly deciding that she found this one quite attractive. She had no way of telling whether it was any larger or smaller than most, but to her untrained eye it certainly looked impressive enough, swollen and flushed and displayed all the more prominently for the swirling tattoos that flanked it in lieu of hair, drawing the eye inexorably toward it.

As if anyone would really have wanted to look away.

He chuckled, and she realized she’d been staring. She grinned sheepishly. “It’s lovely,” she said, drawing a fingertip along its length and discovering that it felt even better than it looked. She had never imagined that skin could be so soft, so hot. He made little noises of encouragement as she slid her thumb over the head, smearing the drop of fluid glistening at the tip.

It twitched suddenly, and she jerked her hand back in surprise. He laughed.

“Sometimes it has a mind of its own,” he said, calmly recapturing her hand and guiding her to wrap it around him. He showed her how to grip his cock so that the silky skin slipped back and forth over the rigid flesh beneath with each pump, and she delighted in the feel of it in her hand.

Once comfortable with the basic principle of the act, she began to vary her strokes—fast and slow, gentle and rough, trying to determine what he liked best. It didn’t take her long; Solona had always prided herself on being a quick study, and Zevran wasn’t remotely shy about expressing his approval when she did something right. He moaned when she handled him roughly, gasped when she squeezed tightly on the upstroke, and so she continued to do just that.

A few moments of her specially-tailored attentions had him panting as he thrust his hips into each stroke, and Solona blushed at the sudden realization that she dearly wanted to watch him come. Would he cry out? How would his face look? Would he shoot his seed all over her stomach? And why, in Andraste’s name, was the latter such a bizarrely appealing prospect at the moment?

Before she had the chance to learn the answer to any of those questions he pulled her hand away, swallowing her protest with a kiss as he guided her to sit on the edge of the table. He began hitching up the skirt of her robes.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, squirming uneasily as he dropped to his knees before her. He grinned up at her as he inched the fabric slowly, teasingly up her thighs. Solona bit back a groan. Maker, how she loved and hated that grin.

“I believe it is your turn to show me something of yours, yes?” he said, hooking his fingers suggestively into the waistband of her smallclothes. Solona’s cheeks burned.

“I…” She swallowed hard and tried again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

Later, she imagined, she would be terribly flattered by how quickly her smallclothes found their way onto the floor; at the moment, however, she was too busy trying to get a rein on the nerves and desire warring within her as his hands stroked along the outsides of her tightly-clenched thighs. She moaned pathetically as he dropped a kiss to one.

“Sweet Solona,” he murmured, massaging the flesh beneath his palms, “let me see. I promise you, I won’t bite. Well, not unless you want me to,” he amended, flashing a cheeky smirk. When after a moment she still did not comply, he ducked his head to press more soft kisses to her thighs. “You asked me what I want with you,” he said between kisses. “I want to taste you. I want to hear you call my name as I bring you to ecstasy, over and over, until you think you will die of it. I want to bury myself between these plump thighs and make love to you until neither of us has the strength to move any longer, and to rest on your soft belly after I have spent myself inside you.” He raised his eyes to catch her gaze. “But first, I want to see you.”

Solona shivered. “Yes, okay.”

Her thighs were pushed apart, Zevran settled between them as soon as the words left her mouth, and Solona lay back on the table and tried to remember to breathe, uncertain whether she was mortified or excited to be spread so lewdly for him. She had a feeling it was a bit of both. She heard him inhale deeply, and her cheeks grew even hotter.

“What a fine little cunny this is,” he said, brushing his fingers softly along her outer lips before gently parting them. He dragged a finger through her folds and Solona whimpered, embarrassed by the slick sounds of his ministrations. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he spoke again. “So wet for me already?”

Solona couldn’t quite muster a coherent response, which he must have realized, because he didn’t wait for one.

She gasped at the feel of a hot, wet tongue sliding up her cleft, letting out a particularly undignified squeak when it finished its journey with a flick against her clit. She squirmed helplessly, willing him to do it again.

“Delicious,” he purred. “Just as I thought you would be.”

She wasn’t sure whether to blush at the compliment or cry out of sheer frustration, but both soon proved irrelevant because that tongue was back, lapping at her as though she was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And she’d thought he was good at kissing! Those skills paled in comparison to what his mouth was doing to her now, eagerly licking and suckling the sensitive flesh, robbing her of any higher thought than Yes, more, please!

She let out another squeak as that tongue was plunged deep inside her, and then moaned, threading her fingers into his hair. Maker, she never touched herself there; she’d tried once or twice but, finding it slightly uncomfortable and an awkward angle at which to hold her wrist to boot, she’d abandoned it in favor of her clitoris, dipping her fingers into herself only when she wasn’t quite slick enough outside yet. But having a warm, wriggling tongue inside her? Even in her wildest dreams, she couldn’t have imagined how incredible it would feel!

She whined at the loss when the tongue withdrew, only to draw the sound into a sharp keen as it slid up to tease her neglected clit. The tingling heat came flooding back as his tongue flicked and circled, and she must have been closer to the edge than she realized because he captured the swollen bud between his lips and sucked and suddenly she was coming harder than she ever had, her cries echoing through the library.

Too sensitive now, she tried to squirm away, but he caught her hips, holding her firmly in place. “Again,” he said, delivering a feather-soft lick that made her shudder all over. “I know you can.”

Oh, and he did, didn’t he? That terrible, wonderful, absolute pervert!

She groaned, ceasing her struggle as he lavished her with gentle attentions until it was no longer too much but just right, and she wasn’t sure how he could tell when it was, but he could, licking her harder and faster until she shattered beneath his tongue a second time. Once more she tried to escape, and once more he held her fast, soothing her with barely-there strokes until she was ready again.

Once, twice, thrice more that clever tongue brought her to orgasm, leaving her a panting, quivering pile of useless limbs when he finally began to pull away.

“Why are you stopping?” she demanded breathlessly, propping herself up on her elbows with no small amount of difficulty. He laughed, bestowing one last kiss to her nether lips before wiping his mouth on her robes and rising to his feet.

“As flattered as I am by your appreciation of my talents, too much more attention to your little pearl may leave it sore in the morning,” he said. He bent to kiss her, slow and lingering rather than insistent, and she melted into it, blushing at the taste of herself on his lips.

He stood back up and began to redo the laces of his trousers. Panic lanced through her.

“What—why are you—?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, I thought you wanted to… you know,” she finished lamely.

“I do very much wish to you know,” he said with a grin, “but I think it might be wise to adjourn to a bed before we do so.”

Fear knotted in her stomach. If they left this room, if he saw her in better lighting, he would change his mind. Deep in her gut, she knew it. This was her only chance. “No. Now.”

He cast a brief glance around the room, and it occurred to Solona that she had never seen Zevran look awkward before. Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. “To… speak truthfully, my dear, I had not anticipated quite this level of enthusiasm. I’m afraid I, ah, came a bit unprepared.”

It took her a second to catch his meaning, but her entire body sagged with relief when she did. “Grey Wardens are all but sterile, and besides, I’m a mage. We have ways of handling these things.”

“Ah… yes, but there is still the matter of—”

“Zevran Arainai, if you do not penetrate me this instant I will set your hair on fire.”

His eyebrows shot skyward. Slowly, a smile began to spread across his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Solona’s heart sang in victory as he undid the laces, freeing that beautiful cock again. It had wilted slightly, and this time she needed no prompting to take it in her hand, leaning up to kiss him deeply while she coaxed it back to readiness.

When he was fully hard once more, he broke the kiss, gently pushing her to lie back on the table. Her heart fluttered madly as he spread her legs wider, her breath catching in her chest as she felt the very tip of him pressing against her. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the intrusion.

“Are you ready, Solona?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Tell me what you want.”

She cracked one eye open, finding a mischievous grin on his face. “You know quite well what I want,” she said peevishly. She shifted her hips to try and take him in, but he moved just far enough away to prevent her from succeeding. She scowled.

“I do, yes, but I would like to hear you say it,” he purred, complicating matters all the more by taking his cock in hand and tracing the tip in teasing circles around her entrance. “Ask me to make love to you.”

“I hardly think this falls under the mantle of ‘making love.’”

Zevran sighed. “Do you want to argue semantics, or do you want to get fucked?”

Solona blushed. “The latter, please.”

“Then perhaps—” he pressed forward slightly, just barely dipping into her “—you should humor me, yes?”

“OhholyMakerpleasemakelovetome,” she gasped, not even minding the victorious smirk on his face as he withdrew once more to line himself up properly.

“Remember to breathe, amora,” he said softly, and she didn’t fully understand why until he’d thrust inside her, sending a shock of white-hot pain through her lower body.

He stilled, allowing her time to stretch to accommodate him, but the pain showed no sign of subsiding. No, no, no, this wasn’t at all how it happened in the books; it only stung for a second, and then the heroine was perfectly fine. Romance novels had lied to her! She felt horribly betrayed.

Zevran shushed her, and she realized she’d been whimpering.

“Darling Solona,” he cooed, rubbing her stomach, “it won’t always hurt. Just this time and the first few hereafter, and then you will know nothing but pleasure from love-making.”

“Are you… are you trying to be comforting?” she asked. “You?” She couldn’t help it: she burst out laughing.

Above her, Zevran let out a groan that did not sound born entirely of exasperation. “And just why is that so funny?”

“I don’t think this was what Loghain had in mind when he hired you to impale me,” she managed, before dissolving into laughter again. He rolled his eyes, grinning nonetheless.

“You have a strange sense of humor,” he said. Very slowly, he pushed the rest of the way inside, stilling again once their hips met. “Are you alright?”

There was something in those lovely eyes that made her feel warm all over, and Solona shifted her hips a bit, discovering that the pain, though still sharp, was not as unbearable as it had been. “Yes, I think so. Mostly.”

“Let me know when I may begin to move. There’s no hurry; we have all night. I assure you, I have exemplary self-control,” he added, only slightly boastfully.

He stroked his hands up and down her sides, pausing now and then to worry a nipple between his fingers, and little by little Solona felt herself relax around him. Soon—so soon that she wondered if Zevran had been trained to do precisely that (and came to the conclusion that yes, there was a good chance he had been)—his soothing touches had chased the worst of the sting away.

She caught his gaze and gave him a brief nod.

She winced the first time he withdrew and thrust back in, and the second, but by the third or fourth she’d grown accustomed enough to the smaller twinges of pain that she was able to focus for the first time on how it actually felt to have a man inside her. “Odd” was the first word that came to mind, though not in a bad way. The sensation of being filled and stretched, of him moving deep within her was alien, but she could tell that it would be pleasant once she’d grown used to it.

“Oh, Solona,” he breathed. He gripped her hips, squeezing the doughy flesh there with a groan of approval that quickly dismissed any instinct she might have had to be ashamed of it. “Solona… amora… you feel so good.”

She blushed at the praise. Or was it because of the wet sounds of their coupling, and how very loudly they echoed in the empty library? Or the heat in those golden eyes as he slid his hands up and down her body, kneading at her breasts, her belly, her hips, her thighs; the way that thin sheen of sweat made his skin glisten in the lamplight as he rolled his hips against hers, or the soft murmurs of Antivan that she didn’t understand but could only assume were complimentary?

With so very much to blush about, would she ever be able to stop blushing?

His hips stuttered, and this time she recognized the word he uttered as a curse. “Apologies, my dear,” he said breathlessly, “but it appears I may have overestimated my powers of self-control. I’m afraid this will not be my finest performance. You feel so good, and I’ve wanted this too long. Oh, Solona…”

He swore again, sinking his fingers deeply into the flesh of her hips as the rhythm of his own became erratic, leaving her gasping at the force of his thrusts until, mere moments later, his entire body went rigid, his eyes shut tightly and his mouth open in a silent cry.

Solona's heart did a little somersault. Maker, but he was gorgeous when he came.

Zevran released her hips, bracing his hands on the table as he sagged above her, his breathing ragged. Solona wanted to kiss him again, but since doing so would require moving--which she did not want to do--she contented herself with revisiting the thick lines of black ink on his arms and chest.

He smiled. “You like them.”

“They're beautiful.” She traced the tattoo on his cheek, her heart fluttering strangely when he turned his head to kiss her palm. “They suit you,” she continued, largely to mask the fact that she had no idea what one was supposed to do after sex. Back in the Circle, this had always been the point at which the participants slunk back to their respective beds while everyone else politely pretended to be unaware of what they'd been up to. Out here in the real world, she was at a bit of a disadvantage.

“Pleased to hear it, amora,” he said. He straightened, leaving her feeling suddenly, disconcertingly empty as his softening cock slid out of her. He helped her to her feet, then gathered her into his arms for a soft kiss. “How do you feel? I... forgot myself a bit in the end. I did not hurt you?”

Solona shook her head. “No, I'm fine. I feel like I probably could use a wash, though,” she added sheepishly, feeling a fresh stab of betrayal at the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs. Scores of smutty books, and not a one had bothered to mention that you leaked afterward. She had a good mind to unload the whole of her collection on the next shopkeeper she met!

“It's a messy business,” Zevran said with a laugh. He set about getting his clothes back in order, so Solona followed suit. “Come. We will get you cleaned up.”

Solona took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the hall, comforted—if oddly disappointed—that post-coital etiquette outside the Circle was very much the same as it was inside.

At least, it had seemed that way until she turned toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

Confused, and with the growing suspicion that she had once again failed to recognize some important social cue, Solona replied, “To my room, of course.”

“Mine is closer,” he said, giving her hand a gentle tug in the opposite direction. Still puzzled, but trusting that Zevran was more of an authority on these matters than she, Solona followed him.

True to his claim, Zevran’s room was just around the corner. Though much smaller and simpler than what seemed customary for a nobleman to offer his guests, it was blissfully warm compared to the large, drafty tower room she’d been set up in. Solona wondered if he might agree to trade, but suspected this was not the most appropriate time to ask.

Zevran shed his clothes and began filling the wash basin with hot water from the pot in the hearth. Tamping down a resurgence of self-consciousness, Solona began removing her robes. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t already seen her mostly naked, she reminded herself as she worked the laces. If he hadn’t fled from the sight of her in the library, he wasn’t particularly likely to do it now, even if this room was rather more well-lit.

Quite well-lit, in fact. Indeed... curiously so, Solona realized, counting dozens of flickering candles scattered about, casting the room in a hazy golden glow. There was a censer in the corner releasing the sweet, spicy aroma of frankincense, and, when Solona turned to place her folded robes atop the bed, a decanter of brandy and a pair of empty glasses on the nightstand, accompanied by what looked to be a bottle of massage oil.

“Andraste’s flaming sword, Zevran, did you plan this?”

“Would you think me a scoundrel if I said yes?”

“Yes,” Solona laughed. “But… I wouldn’t mind.”

“Then I am a fortunate man, indeed,” Zevran said cheerfully, carrying the steaming basin to where Solona stood at the foot of the bed. “I confess, I did have a rather more elaborate seduction in mind. But you made a very persuasive argument to the contrary,” he added.

Then, before Solona had a moment to think, he’d knelt at her feet. She watched, dumbstruck, as he plucked a sponge from the basin and began gently cleaning their mess from her skin.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked once words returned to her.

“You said you wished to bathe,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Solona shook her head. “No, I mean why are you doing all of this? Why are you being so nice to me?”

Zevran grinned up at her. “Should I be cruel to the women I take to bed?”

“Haven't you killed a number of them?”

“A fair point,” he chuckled. He paused to rinse the sponge, then returned silently to his task. It was not until Solona had accepted that she would be receiving no answer that he finally spoke again, his face a mask of impassivity. “When you found me in the thrall of the Sloth demon, you wept for me.”

Solona sucked in a breath. It had been nearly two months since they liberated the Circle, and the image of him being stretched on the rack by the Crows was still all too fresh in her mind. “Zevran, that was awful. Anyone would have--”

“Anyone did not. You did.”

Solona turned the words over in her head. “So... you’re doing this because we’re friends?”

“As you say, I have had worse reasons.”

He sounded sad, and Solona regretted forcing him to dredge up the memory. Should she apologize? Would that be weird? Certainly, it wouldn’t change anything. She could be as sorry as she liked, and his training would have been no less barbaric.

Reminding herself that words were seldom her ally in such situations, she reached out to stroke his hair. He leaned into her touch like a cat, and she considered herself forgiven.

Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable one, and Solona thanked the Maker that she had not ruined the evening. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in the sensation of the warm sponge travelling up and down her legs as she carded her fingers through Zevran’s hair. She’d never been bathed before. It was pleasant.

Perhaps a bit too pleasant, she discovered, unable to contain a soft moan as he drew the sponge over her sex. She looked down, mortified, but if the smirk was any indication, Zevran was not offended in the slightest.

“Excited again, amora?” he teased, giving the over-sensitive flesh a more deliberate caress.

“So are you,” she pointed out, glancing at the half-hard cock between his legs. She felt herself flush, lust coursing like wildfire through her veins. “Can we do it again? No, it’s too late for that. Unless it’s not?”

He laughed. “You are insatiable, Solona! I knew you would be. One can always tell with women.”

Solona frowned. “How?”

“Ah, a master never reveals his secrets,” Zevran said, rising to his feet. He took her hand, kissing it softly. “Come.”

He reclined atop the blankets, and Solona was struck anew by how beautiful he was. His smooth brown skin glowed in the candlelight, his pale hair shimmering like moonbeams where it lay across the pillows. His bright eyes locked with hers, gleaming with promise as he gave that perfect cock a languid stroke.

How was this not the form Desire demons took?

Solona scrambled into his open arms and he rolled her onto her back, rising on his elbow beside her. He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “More comfortable than the table, yes?” he said with a grin.

“I stand by my decision.”

Zevran laughed and ducked his head to kiss her. Soft and slow, it was not quite the sort of kiss Solona was expecting, and it took a moment’s recalibration before she was able to return it with any measure of success. But, in what looked to be the theme of the evening, Zevran didn’t seem to mind, meeting her clumsy attempts at participation with patience and good humor.

After what felt like ages he deepened the kiss, and she moaned, eagerly welcoming his tongue with her own. His free hand roamed her body, light and relaxing at first, but growing more heated in time with their kiss. She sighed, pressing herself into his palm as he kneaded a breast, and she felt him smile against her lips.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck. He pressed soft kisses and gentle bites along her throat, her collar, her breasts. He caught a nipple in his mouth and she gasped, arching off the bed as throbs of aching need shot to her clit.

Too soon, he released her nipple with a wet pop, his eyes glinting wickedly as he met her gaze. “Do you like that, amora?”

“Is this really the time for rhetorical questions?”

Zevran rolled his eyes, but didn’t look especially bothered. “Ah, woman, can you not humor me?” He laved his tongue over the abandoned nipple, giving the other a gentle pinch. “It pleases me to hear the words.”

An unexpected flood of arousal rushed to Solona’s core. “Yes,” she said, her voice just above a whisper as heat rose in her cheeks.

“Yes?” he echoed, planting lazy kisses over her breasts. “Yes to what, amora? Yes, you can humor me? Yes, you like being suckled?” He gave the nipple another hard suck and she barely contained a squeal.

“Yes,” she repeated, sinking trembling fingers into his hair. He chuckled, but had mercy, suckling the opposite nipple until she squirmed, desperate for something, anything between her legs.

“Still so shy, my dear,” he purred, relenting in his assault to kiss his way down her ribs. “Hmm. Do you like this?”

“Yes.”

“And this?” he asked, dipping his tongue into her navel.

“Y-yes.”

He drew lower, peppering her belly with kisses until he reached her pubic mound. “And when I kiss your cunny--you like that, too?”

“Maker, yes,” Solona said, parting her legs in anticipation as his kisses fell lower still. Her toes curled as he swirled his tongue over her clit--it was a bit sore from before--but he did not remain there long before climbing back up her body to capture her lips in a deep, dizzying kiss.

“And when I make love to you,” he said breathlessly, his hard cock twitching where it was pinned between their bellies, “do you like that?”

Solona swallowed. “Yes,” she said, and felt a tremor run up the length of his body.

“Shall I make love to you now, amora?”

“Yes,” Solona breathed. “Yes,” she repeated, winding her legs around his hips as he nestled between her thighs, dragging the head of his cock through her sodden folds. "Yes,” she whimpered, digging her nails into his back as he drove himself in to the hilt. There was still pain, but it was dull, a mere annoyance accompanying the wet slide of his cock inside her, and she sighed, tightening her legs around him.

It was nice, she decided, having him so close during sex. It felt cozy. Intimate. For a moment she thought she understood why he insisted on calling it “making love,” but she banished the foolish notion from her mind.

This was sex. Sex between people who cared for each other as friends, perhaps, but nothing more than that. It wouldn’t do to go letting herself get carried away on flights of fancy when, come morning, things between them would be exactly the same as they had been yesterday.

Zevran shifted the angle of his hips slightly, and that niggling thread of disappointment vanished as he thrust against something deep inside that made her eyes roll back. She heard him chuckle, but couldn’t find it within her to be annoyed when he picked up his pace, hitting that spot on every stroke.

He was speaking again--her name, and “amora,” and strains of Antivan that she remembered from earlier but still could not hope to decipher. He said a phrase she she didn’t recognize, his thrusts coming to a halt. He licked his lips, then repeated so that she could understand. “My name, amora. Say it.”

Solona flushed. Feeling a bit silly, she said, “Zevran.”

His whole body shuddered. “Solona,” he sighed, stealing a searing kiss as he began to move again with more vigor than before.

“Zevran,” she said again, emboldened by this passionate response. She raked her nails lightly down his chest, feeling him shiver beneath her touch. “Zevran,” she moaned as his cock thrust against that particular spot, over and over, until she felt herself beginning to unravel. “Zevran, Zevran, Zevran…”

He opened his mouth, but if he said anything Solona didn’t hear it because she was coming, and he followed right on her heels, burying himself as deep as he could while her body clenched around him as though it never wished to let go.

He collapsed on top of her, and she held him close, briefly entertaining the irrational fancy that she would be perfectly content to stay that way forever.

“You’re all sweaty,” she said finally, combing her fingers through his damp hair.

Zevran laughed tiredly. “Yes, that happens,” he said, pressing soft kisses into her neck. He rose up to lay another kiss on her lips, then rolled off of her. “Come,” he said, sliding under the covers. “You will catch your death of cold.”

Solona’s hand had nearly reached her robes before she realized that he meant for her to join him in bed. She looked toward the door. Then back at him.

They were finished, though, weren’t they? Late as it was, they were unlikely to do it again. But, once more, she conceded that he knew things about the world outside the Circle that she didn’t, and crawled beneath the covers.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to lay her head upon his chest.

“And...what’s the purpose of this?”

“Do you not find it pleasurable?” he asked, kissing her hair.

It was rather comfortable being cocooned in his arms under the warm blankets, feeling his heart slow to a steady rhythm beneath her cheek. So comfortable that her eyelids were quickly growing heavy. “I suppose it is.”

“Then, what other purpose is required?” He squeezed her. “Rest, amora. It’s late.”

Solona closed her eyes. “Just for a few minutes.”

“A few minutes,” he agreed.

Solona awoke to the pale grey light of pre-dawn filtering through the curtains. Keeping her eyes shut tightly, she turned away from the window, just as she’d done every morning since they began their stay at Castle Redcliffe.

Except that this morning she turned right instead of left. And she was naked.

She gasped, bolting upright to find an equally naked Antivan Crow lying next to her.

Maker’s balls, she’d had sex with Zevran.

Twice.

Careful not to make a sound, Solona climbed out of bed as gingerly as she could, looking back once both feet were on the ground to make sure she hadn’t woken Zevran. Confident that he was still asleep, she tiptoed over to retrieve her clothes. Her robes had been kicked onto the floor at some point in the night, and she said a silent prayer of thanks that they’d managed not to fall into the washbasin as she shrugged them on. Unlikely as she was to meet anyone in the hall at this hour, sopping wet robes would have been difficult to explain.

She toed on her shoes, casting her eyes about the room for her smallclothes. Where had they--?

Oh, Maker, they were still in the library. Saint Solona had left her knickers in the library. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her chest and she clasped a hand over her mouth to contain it.

Right. She would finish dressing, find her smallclothes, then slip into her room before anyone was the wiser. She could do this, she assured herself. No problem. She cast another glance toward the bed to make sure Zevran was still asleep.

She was met with golden eyes tracking her every move.

Shit. Of course he was a light sleeper. Shit. Shit, shit, shit…

“Um. Good morning?”

“Good morning,” Zevran said, making no move to leave the bed. “You seem in quite a hurry.”

“I, er. No,” Solona said. “Yes. What I mean is, thank you so much for last night. It was--you’re very good at sex, and… thank you, for--ah--for that. But I should--I should really go. People will be waking up soon, and--” she shrugged, unable to locate any more words.

Zevran looked thoughtful. “I believe I understand.”

"Thank you.”

“You are a Grey Warden, I am a Crow. I can see how you might not wish such a dalliance to become public knowledge.”

Solona’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“It is perfectly sound judgement,” Zevran continued. “You are attempting to court the favor of the Fereldan nobility. Sharing your bed with an assassin is perhaps not the best look.”

“Me? No--you! I thought that you wouldn’t--because I’m--” she gestured helplessly at herself. “I mean, last night was one thing, but in the cold light of morning…”

“Ah. I see,” Zevran said, crossing the bed to where she stood. Before Solona could act, he grasped her partially-laced robes and pulled them open, looking her up and down. “Yes. Yes, this will be a problem.”

Solona’s heart sank. “It will?”

“Now that I have had my hands on you, I fear I shall not be able to keep them off.”

Solona opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Zevran laughed, resting his forehead against hers. “Come back to bed, amora.”

He did not have to ask her twice.