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whinlatter · 8 months

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reading | listening | writing | summer '23

sulking in bed with tonsillitis - never had it before, thought i was built different, crushed to discover i am, in fact, built the same (sickly). so thought was overdue a share of some of the fics i have loved that i've read these past few months (even though my TBR remains colossal), as well as some tune/travel updates, a lil writing check in, and a lil sneak peek of chapter eight of Beasts because the ex boyfriends are back, baby!!!

Reading

Bookbinding by @saintsenara (Myrtle/Tom Riddle, AU, 35k, multi-chapter, completed)

look. this is how it's going to go. i'm going to say myrtle/tom riddle AU, you're going to say 'are you right in the head you're a canon compliant girlie kindly get a grip on yourself'. but then you're going to click the link, and read it, and then you'll be chuckling and filled with boundless delight and want to read this stonkingly well-written properly funny rich magical little fic all over again as soon as you've finished and you'll have me to thank for it. it's a rom-com, people. dare you not to be enchanted. their ship name is literally tyrtle? the tag is 'she said: I can fix him! and she's right'. (and then you're going to read this hinny one, also by @saintsenara as a gift to me as a delectable chaser and lose your mind!)

everything i am is yours by @brightlybound (Hinny, AU, 4k, oneshot)

remember when i was like, AUs, not my bag! and then i read a load of AUs and realised i was talking out of my arse? weird. anyway, here is a lovely little hinny AU that i've gone back to a bunch because it's just really beautifully written and deeply charming and actually does something a lot of muggle AUs don't always do, which is play with harry's characterisation ever so deftly to say, hey, harry is harry, but if nothing bad had happened to him and james and lily lived, he'd be a little bit different, wouldn't he? this harry is our harry, but he's just that bit more confident, that bit more capable of digging an active flirt out of his back pocket. and that makes me happy!

The Last Something That Meant Anything by anonymous (Percy POV, Percy/Audrey and Percy/Oliver, short multichapter, 21k, completed)

i have a lot of percy thoughts these days. fanon percy, steeped in weasley bashing, doesn't do very much for me, so i really loved this belter of a percy character study that considers him both within and apart from his family in a way that attends to his trauma and inner life, but also shows the truth: he's not doing well, he does fuck up with a big moral lapse, and then he has work to do - interesting, deep, personal work - to make it right. please check the tags with this one, as it does contain reference to SA, but really do recommend a read if you feel able.

haunted mansion by @bronzeagepizzeria (Sirius-POV, 1.5k, oneshot)

this brilliant short fic really left me with so many sirius feelings: it just gets the claustrophobia and the grief of sirius' last year alive exactly right, and it just has these fabulous cameos that have detonated a thousand deep sirius thought bombs in my head forever. l o v e d it

perpendicular by akissinacrisis (Hinny, AU, 4.5k, oneshot)

harry/ginny AU, where harry goes to stonewall high and meets ginny at a party. it's so tender and beautiful and stiff and sad and understated, and it's really stayed with me. also it does what all good hinny fics must do (have them chatting. just talking, hanging out, shooting the shit together. they just love to chat, those two lil magnets snapping to each other).

empire builders by she-crow (Prongsfoot, possibly canon-compliant but technically AU I guess, 25k oneshot)

i read this laid out beside a lake and needed at least four more days of lying by a lake to think about it. it's a) one of the most beautiful fics i've ever read b) rip your heart out and staple it heart-wrenching and good and c) some of the best sirius and james characterisations i've read that really serves as a manifesto for playing around with marauders multiships to really different characters in such different lights. the other beauty of it is that it could be canon-compliant? like it could be read as a fabulous doomed tragic love affair between two boys completely infatuated with each other and not sure where to put it. and i think that's kind of gorgeous. so yeah uhh big fan

Notes from the Ravenclaw Bulletin Board by lostrobin (Gen, 11k, completed)

this is a fic told through (very funny) little notes on the ravenclaw bulletin board. been thinking a lot about different house dynamics atm and this a) made me laugh out loud and b) really think, you know who is really sound? those ravenclaw kids. love those bookworms. the crookshanks and fred and george cameos really make this, too. you'll zip through it and you'll giggle. there's nothing more to it!

Listening (while out and about)

i went outside and it looked like this (i like lakes):

and i listened to things like this:

pink light by muna (saw em live, lost my mind!) | space invader by the national (anthemic) | mountain by the joy (they're too good) | the greater wings (album) by julie byrne (literally stunning) | gorilla by lil simz (best beanie man sample of all time?)

Writing

other than this birthday microfic for mr potter, a bit of tinkering and dawdling with other misc projects that i pick up and put down over and over again, and my usual meta nonsense, i've just been writing Beasts! put four chapters out since last check-in, and am hard at work on chapter eight, which has some of my favourite scenes in the fic so far. we're gearing up for some chapters away from the castle (writing the winter break chapters in august. what am i like!) and some scenes i've been sat on for ages and some others that i'm having so so so much fun writing. i'm a michael corner stan now? who knew?

She lugs the trunk off the bus at the final stop and traipses around the warren of streets in Soho for a while, looking for the address written on the piece of parchment clutched in her hand. Finally, she finds the building, battered door with the doorbell hanging half off, and stands awkwardly in the street, catching her breath, until the machine crackles and a familiar deep voice says: ‘Hello?’ 'Hi, it’s me.’ She clears her throat. ‘It’s Ginny, I mean.’ ‘Oh, hi. Come on up.’ The hallway has an unmistakably damp, squat-like feel about it. Loud laughter spills out of the flat on the first floor, and a group of uni students, squabbling amicably among themselves, parade past her on the second floor staircase as she rings the doorbell and loiters in the corridor, feeling hopelessly out of place. ‘Your hair’s so nice!’ one girl with thick black boots and a face full of piercings says admiringly as she passes by, just as the door to the flat swings open. ‘Oh, good, you found it. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to.’ ‘Why wouldn’t I be able to?’ Michael rolls his eyes. ‘You know, Ginny, seen as it's Christmas, maybe we could try not to argue before you’ve even set foot in my flat.'

okay, one more 🕺

THE BOYS OF 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE INVITE YOU TO THE NEW YEAR’S PARTY OF THE CENTURY Eight til late, BYOB because we’re skint THE THEME: ‘MUGGLE MAGIC’ (BRING OUT THE MUGGLE IN YOU - BECAUSE MUGGLES ARE MAGIC, TOO!)

#fic rec #writing #beasts #and other things #god these fics are all so fucking good #i wish i could read them for the first time again #but i will have to settle for the nineteenth time each #sometimes life comes at you fast #and by life i mean 'accidentally becoming a michael corner stan'#did someone say lovable grouch on a hero arc #(it's me. i said that)#hinny #prongsfoot #percy/oliver wood

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enwoso · 15 days

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INVISIBLE STRINGS - alessia russo

*i started writing this and loved it then got bored by the end so sorry for the rushed ending:) but thank you for the love and support on my first post!!

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google would define invisible strings as a thread that connects two people who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or the circumstances. the thread may stretch or tangle but it never breaks.

you and alessia both truly believed you were a prime example of the invisible string theory.

the two of you always existing among each other but neither ever really acknowledged each other until later on when you were both older.

you lived on the same street as alessia growing up, only a few doors down, she was the blonde girl you would always see from afar playing in the park with her two older brothers as they blasted the ball at the young girl.

however she always gave back as good as she got.

you had even went to the same school, however she was in the year above you. there were plenty school photos with the two of you in only a few metres apart. walking past each other in the corridor every single day - not having an idea how important each other would become to be to the other in the future.

you had played football for the local team as did she. the blonde playing in offence taking any spot on the front line whereas you sat at the back and played in defence stopping the opposition from scoring.

that is how the two of you met, well kind of. you played for the same team but you two never really friends. it wasn’t that you didn’t like each other it’s just you never really spoke to one another bar the few words when necessary.

however you only played with each other for a few months before she moved onto a new local team. only seeing her now when your team would face her new team.

you both existed in the backgrounds of each others lives.

when you were sixteen, you were scouted by the arsenal's academy for the under seventeens teams, it took you a little time getting used to playing academy football and not the usual sunday league but after a few months you had found your feet and began to settle in.

you had one goal, the england youth squad. your family pushing you each day to try and help you achieve your goal however just a month before the squad announcement you tore your ACL at sixteen.

you were out of football for a year, endless days sat with a physio, in the gym just trying to get your knee to bend again like it once used to. watching from the sidelines as your friends in the academy got their calls up for the youth teams and how you wished it was you.

you felt as though you were fighting a battle you were never going to win, you were falling out of love with sport that you had played your entire life.

after three hundred and sixty two day you were finally allowed to play again, however your return it wasn't the fairy tale dream you had spent the past year dreamed about. you ended up spending a lot of time on the bench not playing as regular as you did before your injury and you spent many of those ninety minutes wondering why you were no longer good enough.

losing all your confidence in yourself and your ability to actually play football - you felt as though you had hit a brick wall. finding yourself some days where you didn't want to play football anymore.

but thankfully your family, mainly your dad, were not going to let you give up so easily on the talent that they had spent watching over the last ten years. your dad repeatedly telling you 'that you time would come'

and like the fairy tale you had dreamed about you slowly begun to get minutes again and fell back in love with sport all over again. forever thankful for your family for their support each day, for sometimes dragging you to training even when you had told them multiple of times that you were done and that you quit.

and you dad was right, your time did come. your hard work finally paid off and just after your nineteenth birthday you made your appearance for the arsenal first time - even bagging yourself an assist.

the next few season were spent learning and being loaned to another other club spending half a season at brighton when you were 20. but you saw it all as learning and a way of improving - you were getting minutes, plenty of clean sheets and you were working towards a new goal: the 2023 world cup.

you were back at arsenal and were a regular starter in the back line for arsenal and with that came your good from and finally your call up for england came as they were beginning their campaign to quality for the world cup in australia.

"are you excited?" leah asked swinging her arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the changing rooms, she had been a big mentor to you since you had came into the first team, along with helping you to improve your game. you could say you became her little prodigy.

the squad had just been announced on social media for the first time and hearing your name on the sheet of paper had you feeling something you could even begin to find the word to describe.

“yes.. but no, i’m a little nervous” you admitted with a small laugh as leah gave you a soft smile and a squeeze of the shoulders to reassure you.

“listen, you’ll be fine! just play with the passion you always have” she said as you nodded slowly, “plus you’ll have me, beth and jordan!” the blonde added as you playfully groaned, leah gasping and unthreading her arm from around your shoulders.

“i’m just kidding, you know i love you all” you smiled, as leah rolled her eyes as you reached the doors of the changing rooms, “i do kiddo! ..but i’m at the top of that list, right?”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, lee!”

leah was right - you were fine. while you didn’t get any starts in any of the games at your first camp, you did get some minutes as a sub which was more than you were expecting. but while sitting on the bench you did find yourself talking to a particular blonde.

“you said you were from kent, didn’t you?” alessia asked as you hummed, a puzzled look growing on your face as you waited for the blonde to carry on. your eyes were glued to the girls running around on the pitch as you sat on the bench with a bright orange bib over your jacket.

“me too! what part?” the blonde asked as you turned your head at the question being slightly caught off guard at the fact she was also from kent.

“um maidstone” you gave her a small smile, your attention turning back to the girls on the pitch as the ball was close to going into the back of the net. alessia gasping making you think she had seen something you had missed on the pitch as well as making you jump a little, “me too!”

you turned back to her, giving her a shocked look. confusion filling you as the two of you spent the rest of camp talking about each others childhood finding out your grew up on the same street as well as going to the same school.

when the next england camp rolled around, you and alessia had became even closer to the point you were counting down the days until you next saw each other.

short and sweet messages turned into hours and hours spent on facetime until the other fell asleep. friendly comments turned into subtle flirty ones and the touches turned to ones that lasted longer than friends and slowly you found yourself falling for the blonde.

the last england camp before the euros in the summer at home had finally arrived, you had arrived at st george’s park with beth and leah but before alessia.

you found yourself sitting patiently in the common room, like a lost puppy waiting for the blonde to walk through the door. the other girls chatting and playing cards in the background.

“kid, if you stare any longer at the doorframe your gonna burn a hole in it!” lucy teased as you glanced away from the doorway for the first time in a least thirty minutes, rolling your eyes at the teasing comment you moved your gaze to fix at watching leah try and beat beth’s high score on the basketball hoop game.

eventually after what felt at least a year to you and fifteen minutes to everyone else - the blonde walked through with ella, as she made a beeline for you as you wrapped her in a tight hug.

the two of you finding a rhythm and falling into a deep conversation about all the things you had forgotten to tell each other over the phone.

“so then me and ella had to stop, so i could get a coffee and she-“ alessia was in the middle of telling you a recount of her journey here before you interrupted her with a big gasp, jumping up out of your seat to find your phone quickly.

“what?” alessia asked as she watched you frantically search for your phone on the beanbag you were sitting on - finding it wedged under the beanbag.

“i have to show you this before i forget!” you said a grin on your face getting bigger with ever swipe your finger did on your phone screen. moving closer to the blonde, your shoulders touching as she peered over your own shoulder wondering what on earth you were about to show her and why was it such a big deal.

"look-" you moved your phone so that it was in her eye line and on your screen was a group school photo, "i don’t get it? what am i looking at?" the blonde asked her squinted her eyes trying to get a better look at the photo.

"there's me and.." you paused as she pointed to herself as a small gasp followed from her, "and there's me" alessia whispered, so quietly you also couldn't hear her. shock has consumed the blonde and you sat back with a smug smile as she examined the photo a little more.

"how’d you find this?" alessia asked as she turned her head back to you, handing you back your phone, "my mum sent me them,, there's more if you swipe across" you said beginning to swipe along your camera roll.

the two of you spent the next hour looking through the photos, some from school and others from your grassroots club, recounting each others side of the memories both of you in shock of how close you to were to each other growing but in reality how far you were to each other.

"we've literally been in the background of each other lives forever" alessia smiled as you nodded. "attached by an invisible string" you added.

the international camp came to an end and you both went back to your respective clubs, this time the two of you were making an effort to see each other without it being on a pitch or about football — so on your days off you went to see alessia and on her days off she came to see you.

your feelings for alessia were growing each time you saw her, her smile was infectious, her blue orbs were the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. but you didn't want to admit your feelings to her in case it ruined your friendship, plus why would she like you back, alessia sees you as a friend and a friend only.

or so you thought.

"less, why don't you just admit you have feelings for the girl!" ella said as she caught the blonde smiling at her phone knowing that she was messaging you.

"w-what" the blonde stuttered her phone dropping into her lap. "less, we can all see that you like her!" ella paused as alessia's cheeks tinted red, "except for y/n - but she definitely likes you too!"

"she does?"

"of course, everyone can see the way you both look at each other!" ella said bumping her shoulder with the older blonde as alessia gave her a small smile and nodded processing the information that had just been given to her.

before the euros came around in the summer alessia managed to make the first move taking you on the first date — a fancy dinner accompanied by going back to her apartment and spending the rest of the night cuddled into each other while watching a film.

the euros had come and you were back with alessia and the rest of the england girls. the tournament had been the best time of your life making unforgettable memories with the girls. slipping in a few dates with alessia when you two had some downtime.

you were just beginning to enter the second half of extra time the score being 1-1 in the final, yes the final at wembley. the little girl inside of you was buzzing with excitement, you couldn't believe you were going to get to play here. your whole family had made the trip to wembley, sitting proudly in the crowd.

it was england's chance to score, germany had conceded the corner. alex was hovering over it to take it as white shirts littered germanys penalty area.

the ball swing in as everyone jumped up, you watched alessia drop to the ground and then watched as chloe poked the ball into the back of the net. chloe running off to celebrate as the stadium erupted, as you all gathered around chloe celebrating.

all you had to do was hold on for the next ten minutes and the trophy was englands.

keeping the ball in the corner, desperately waiting for the final whistle to blow.

germany had one last chance but before it got into the final half the whistle blew, england where european champions.

running to the closest person near you which happened to be leah, engulfing her in a hug as the tears began to fall. "we did it!" you whispered as she hummed, the two of you sniffing and wiping your eyes and going off to celebrate with the others but your eye caught the sight of your favourite blonde moving toward her.

you don't know if it was the adrenaline of the win that was flowing or if you had finally just grew the confidence to say it but after months of dancing around your feelings for the blonde.

you ran up swinging your arm around her neck, as you both cheered before you faced her grabbing her hands, "less! will you be my girlfriend" you blurted out, clearly catching the blonde of guard as her head perked up, alessia thinking she had misheard you before nodding, "yes, a thousand time yes!"

you smiled bringing the blonde in for a bear hug, not wanting to let go. enjoying her touch, it made you feel safe and loved. as she pulled away she wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you into her, kissing the top of your head lingering there for a few moments.

"all along there's been an invisible string tying me to you."

liked by lucybronze and 915,703 others

alessia day one or one day?

comments -

lucybronze well y/n looks thrilled on the first one

24m 140 likes reply

-> yourusername she annoyed me that day.

-> alessia how on earth can you remember that?

-> yourusername i can’t? i’m just guessing that you did

yourusername i love you<3

24m 140 likes reply

-> alessia love you more, my love<33

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theosbaby · 3 months

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birthday princess

stepbro!draco malfoy x fem!reader

masterlist

part one ;; off-limits

summary; it's your nineteenth birthday and your stepbrother gives his favorite girl a very special birthday present.

warnings; college!au, innocent!reader, dom!draco, sub!reader, stepcest, SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, lots of praising and (shitty) dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up everybody!)

author's note; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes. i'm kinda obsessed with stepbrother!draco lately, so i'm gonna make this a series... hope you like it!

you were back in college, the new semester had just started after christmas break and you were forced to return to your usual rutine; which you didn't want to, because that meant draco and you would have to be apart for months till you both came back home for summer break; drawbacks of going to separate schools, miles away from each other.

today, it was friday, and it was your birthday. your roommate had tried to convince you, very insistently, to go with her to a frat party to celebrate, allegating that "it was supposed to be fun turning nineteen", but you were far too depressed to party, so she ended up going alone; you just missed draco very much. you knew that what you guys had was very wrong, but you couldn't stop thinking about that night in his bedroom. the way he had touched you, the way he had kissed you, the way he had made you feel...

gods, now you were depressed and horny.

a soft knocking on your door brought you back to reality and you sighed, rolling your eyes. you got up from your bed, thinking it was just your roommate again —she tended to forget her keys very frequently. but when you opened the door and saw draco standing there, you almost cried.

"happy birthday, princess," he said with that sultry voice of his that you had missed so much.

he was carrying a huge flowers bouquet on one hand and a white paper bag on the other. he was looking at you with the biggest smile on his face, and you didn't hesitate to throw yourself at him to hug him tightly.

"draco!" you shouted, your voice muted by his flesh as you buried your face on the crook of his neck, inhaling his expensive cologne.

draco chuckled, returning the hug instantly. "missed me that much?" he teased, kissing your temple softly.

"yeah, i did," you muttered as you nodded. you pulled back slightly to look up at him with a cute blush and bright eyes, "can't believe you came all the way here just to see me! you didn't have to..."

"well, i couldn't let my favorite birthday girl spend her day alone now, could i?" draco asked with a smirk, placing another kiss on your forehead that time.

he stepped into your dormroom slowly, picking you up with one arm as if you were nothing to carry you inside. then, he closed the door behind him using his foot.

"i love you."

you smiled big, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a chaste peck on the lips; you couldn't help but blush as you did so.

"i love you more," he whispered against your mouth, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

he then set you down gently, careful not to crush the bouquet between your two bodies; you quickly grabbed it, smelling the fresh scent of the flowers. you did not have a proper vase to put the bouquet in, so you just settled it carefully on top of your desk.

"these are beautiful," you said; the bouquet was made of pink tulips, your favourites.

"i bought you a little present too, wanna open it?" he asked, giving you the white bag.

"yes!" you giggled as you took it and ran excitedly towards your bed.

you sat down on it while draco stared at you adoringly. with shaky hands, you took a little box out of the bag; it was covered in a pretty silver wrapping paper that you quickly ripped open. inside the box, you found a gold necklace with a heart pendant; on the backside of it, it could be read: "draco's little princess".

you smiled big when you saw it. "it's so pretty, i love it!"

"i knew you would." draco smirked, walking over to you and taking the necklace from your hands. he sat behind you on the bed, saying, "let me put it on for you."

he gently pushed your long hair aside to place the necklace around your neck. after that, he leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your soft skin. you turned around to face him, kneeling on the bed while you pushed your hair backwards again to show him how the necklace looked on you, your thin and tiny white singlet doing nothing to cover your body.

"perfect," he breathed out, looking at you with such intensity that it made your heart skip a beat.

his eyes traveled down to your lips as his fingers traced the outline of the pendant resting on your chest. you blushed, averting his gaze, as a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"don't look at me like that." you chuckled shyly, covering your flushed face.

"like what?"

he smirked cupping your face to force you to look at him, he was still gazing at you like he wanted to devour you. you swallowed hard as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered about crazily. you let out a breathy sigh, your lips parting slightly.

"like you wanna eat me up..." you answered timidly, your voice was merely above a whisper as you did so.

"you have no idea how much I want to," he admitted, a small growl rumbling from his chest. he brushed his thumb over your full bottom lip, causing you to gasp softly, then he added, "been dying to taste that sweet pussy of yours, princess."

you were a lost for words as his blunt statement made your heart race like crazy, you could feel your face and ears heating up from embarrassment but also from arousal.

"don't be shy, baby," he purred, leaning in closer until his breath fanned across your neck and he peppered your skin with little kisses, "would you let me eat your beautiful pussy? wanna make my girl feel good on her special day..." he asked with a soft voice.

you squirmed and let out a little whimper as you felt his hands moving down to grasp at your creamy thighs, pulling you onto his lap. your head tilted to the side, giving him full access to your neck. all that attention he was giving to your body was making you really wet, your pussy aching to be touched, so you nodded in response.

"yes, princess?" he whispered against your skin, nipping at it gently.

he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, seeing the need and desire there.

"you want me to eat your pussy? use your words, baby," he questioned again, his voice husky with lust.

"yeah... want you to eat my pussy, dray," you muttered shyly, blushing at the dirty words that came out of your mouth.

"good girl," he praised you.

he gave you a small kiss on the lips before standing up with you in his arms to place you on your back on top of the bed.

"now, spread those beautiful legs wide for me," he commanded, gently caressing the back of your knees.

you obeyed instantly, looking up at him with big innocent eyes. your tiny shorts hiked up, barely covering your skin. he eased himself between your spread thighs, his hands trailing up your legs tenderly in search for the waistband of your pijama bottoms.

his fingers tugged at it to start pulling them down alongside your cotton panties. you lifted your hips to allow him to take off your clothes easily, and both items of clothing got stuck at your left ankle, but you just left them there, too eager to feel his touch to care.

now, you laid completely bare and vulnerable in front of him, your body shivering in anticipation.

"gods, you're so fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his voice low and husky.

he lowered his face to kiss your stomach, trailing hot kisses all the way down to your mound as his hands gripped your hips tightly. you whimpered at his compliment, your hand reaching to grasp at his blonde hair.

"draco, don't tease." you pouted, running your fingers through his soft strands.

"ask nicely," he purred, nipping at your inner thigh playfully, while he groaned in pleasure as you continued to tug on his hair, encouraging him.

"dray, please, need you so bad," you pleaded, your hips jerking forward; your clit was throbbing with need.

"very well, princess," he cooed, kissing his way up your inner thigh towards your sensitive pussy.

his tongue flicked out to tease your little bud before he sucked it into his mouth, groaning against your skin as he tasted you for the first time. you moaned in delight, pulling gently at his hair to push him closer to your cunt. the new sensation made your toes curl; you had never had your pussy eaten, and gods, it felt so fucking good.

"mhmm, you taste so fucking sweet, baby," he hummed against your cunt.

his tongue kept tracing slow circles around your swollen clit before he sucked it into his mouth, causing you to gasp and buck your hips. you cried out so softly, your pretty voice echoing in the silence of your dormroom, while your back arched from the bed.

"love those pretty sounds you make for me, princess," he praised between licks and sucks.

his hands gripped your hips tightly to hold you still as he continued to worship your pussy. you felt one of them sliding up and underneath your singlet to cup one of your breaths. you panted when his fingers toyed with your perky little nipple, that hardened instantly beneath his touch.

"draco," you moaned, grinding your pussy against his face.

"so fucking desperate for your stepbrother, huh?" he teased, "you gonna cum on my face, baby?"

he switched his attention to your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as he continued to eat you out. he lifted his eyes to look at you, his lips curling up into a predatory smile as his tongue flicked against your clit faster now, knowing that you were close.

"yeah," you muttered in response between needy whimpers.

you breathed out, your chest raising and falling rapidly as you felt your pussy clenching and pulsing around nothing; the coil in your belly tightened, announcing your upcoming orgasm.

"come for me, princess," he growled against your pussy before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard. you moaned, your hips jerking up as he worked to pull your orgasm from you.

letting out a cry of pleasure, you came on his face while your whole body trembled. you couldn't help but arch your back from the mattress as you gasped for air. the feeling was so good that your vision went blank for a second. when you finally came down from your high, he slowly pulled away.

"that's my good girl," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

he stood up and helped you remove the last of your clothes before starting to unbutton his own shirt. panting, you reached to unbuckle his belt eagerly while he got rid of his dress shirt. your skin was flushed and your body still flustered from your recent orgasm.

"so impatient," he chuckled, pulling his trousers and boxers down before climbing on top of you.

he grabbed his hard cock to press the tip against your slick pussy, rubbing it teasingly as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. you moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against him while he teased your clit with his cockhead.

"you want this cock, baby?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble against your lips as he continued to tease you. "want me to fuck you?"

"yes, please..." you answered, wrapping your legs around his hips to urge him.

with a smirk, he thrust forward, burying his cock deep inside you in one swift motion.

"fuck," he groaned, feeling your tight pussy clamp down around him. "you're so fucking tight."

your eyes rolled back at the feeling, his cock obviously too big for your tiny cunt, but somehow he managed to make it fit like he did the first time. he started to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he fucked you hard. you gasped out his name with each deep thrust, your nails digging into his back as you tried to get closer to him.

"you like that, huh?" he whispered, "you like your stepbrother's cock stretching your tight little pussy?"

your cunt tightened in response to his words, your face scrunching in pleasure while you nodded, unable to form any coherent sentence. your face was flushed as you heard the creaking from the bed and the filthy wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours.

"look at you, all fucked out on my cock," he growled lowly.

you truly were a sight for sore eyes; you looked so innocent, but at the same time you were taking his dick like a total slut, making him go bloody crazy. he grabbed your legs to pull them up so he could fuck you deeper. you cried out, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he went balls deep.

"you're such a dirty little thing." his dirty talk was making you so wet that you were dripping onto your bedding.

"oh, draco," you moaned loudly

your hands reached to grasp at your own thighs as he pushed your legs onto your chest; the new angle had your toes curling and your legs shaking. he was holding onto your calves, gently kissing your ankles. his grey eyes glazed with lust as he continued to pound into you, hitting that spot inside you that had you squirming under him.

"fuck, feels so good," he groaned, his teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

you let out a breathy whimper as you clenched around his thick shaft, saying, "i'm so close."

"let go, princess," he commanded sweetly, "cum on my cock."

he gave you one last hard thrust, sending you over the edge. your orgasm crashed down on you and you cried out in pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as your cunt engulfed his dick harshly. his eyes fluttered closed when he felt you pulsing around him, his whole body shuddering while you milked his cock, making him cum inside you with a low groan.

"happy fucking birthday, baby."

fuck you if that hadn't been the happiest birthday of your entire life.

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mrscarmenbearzatto · 3 months

Text

lost in translation | carmen berzatto

you get a job working as a waitress at the bear. if only you knew it would get you here. ─ 3.68k ─ angst and fluff, breakups / fighting, some cursing, reader is younger then carmy.

THE STRANGERS PHASE

The first time you and Carmen met was when Nat and Richie had hired you as part of the Bear staff.

A waitress, and a sweet looking one at that. Younger than him. "You guys finally settled on a candidate?" Carmen asks as Natalie and Richie watch you from the small window in the kitchen.

You sit there for a moment before adjusting the silverware, passing Richie's test almost immediately. "I believe we just did." Nat confirms. Carmen takes a look for himself and swears his heart skips a beat as he watches you for a brief moment before clearing his throat, having to pull himself away. "Okay. Cool." He brushes it off.

He didn't get the chance to meet you right away, not until the night before their soft opening. You'd been through training, getting used to the system at the Bear and getting accompanied with staff. All but one. The head chef and owner, 'Carmy' as everyone called him.

"Hey, you're the new hire, right?" A voice asks as you shut your locker. You jump a bit, as you turn, smiling. "I am." The male nods, holding out his hand. "Sorry about scaring you. I'm Carmen Berzatto, don't think we've had the chance to meet." He introduces.

You accept the handshake, swearing you feel a little spark between you two just from touching him.

───

From there, it was like clockwork. You and him would get stuck closing together, and each night you'd dive into a new part of his past. "So, what made you wanna open this place?" You question. He exhales, momentarily pausing his movements of scrubbing the counters before he sniffles. "My brother left it to me after his death."

You pause, staring at him. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He laughs. "You couldn't have known. It's okay, really. I actually wanted to work here, or what used to be here, for the longest time by his side but he didn't let me. Never knew why. It was the thing he left me in his will." He gives a more in depth answer.

You nod slowly. "I'm sorry about that, Carm. His death and not letting you work here." You specify as you look at him. "If it's any comfort, I think your brother would be really proud of what you've turned this place into." You say.

He nods, sniffling again. You set your rag back in the soapy water, sighing as you mark off your final station to clean on the clipboard.

"See you tomorrow night?" He asks as you begin walking to the lockers.

You smile. "It's a date, chef." You confirm. He blushes at the idea of you and him being on a date.

───

Carmen swore to himself he'd take you on an actual date. The planning was easy, it was actually asking you that he found to be a challenge.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" He asks, trying to sound as casual as he can the next night when you two are closing, which didn't come for almost a week. Though he was grateful, it also felt like torture having to wait to get you alone.

"No, I'm not actually. Chicago hasn't exactly been my Paris, you know? City of love and all that bullshit." You answer as you stare at the chore list for that night. "Check the mayonnaise labels. Does Nat think our mayo is expired?" You question.

“Nat thinks all of our stuff is expired one way or another. It doesn’t expire ‘till the nineteenth of May.” He grabs out a knife to start chopping the vegetables. “Anyway, Chicago isn’t really known for its romance.” He points out.

"So I've been told." You stare at the menu. "What's a vegetable medley?" You question as you look back up at him, catching him staring at you. He clears his throat and quickly sets the knife down, wiping his hands on a towel. "Uh, it's a bunch of veggies like green and yellow bell peppers, asparagus and squash topped with balsamic vinegar.” He answers.

You nod slowly. “Only you can explain something like that and make it sound so good right now, Carm.” "Did you eat today?" He doesn't hesitate to ask. "Haven't had a chance to. Richie had me running around all day with the new system, but don't worry, I'm gonna make myself something at home."

"No, come on. I'm- You're not driving home hungry like that. It’s a safety risk. Sit." You go to protest before he repeats himself. "Sit."

The entire night was spent with you and Carmen eating his way too fancy dishes and talking. Sharing memories - childhoods, dreams, stories.

He likes to consider it your first date.

You like to consider it the night you fell in love.

───

You weren't sure what you and Carmen were after that night in the kitchen. Or how to even ask. Do you just come right out and say it? Is there a specific way or time to ask? Google provided zero help, so it was up to you to solve this one.

Maybe that’s what was driving you and Carmy apart for the next week: your mind trying to run through how to even approach that with him. It wasn't until he ambushed you at your locker that you were forced to approach the topic with him. "Not talking to you all week has been driving me insane. Are we okay? If dinner was too much.." He lets his voice trail off.

You smile, as you exhale. "Carmen, I loved dinner. I was just unsure of where we stood. Thought I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out if that was a date or not." You admit. He stares at you, nodding slowly. "Let me take you out to an actual dinner. A real date night." He requests.

You nod. "Okay, I'd like that." You barely have another chance to speak before Richie's calling your name. You place a hand on Carmen's shoulder as you pass him, giving him a small smile before you rush to find out what Richie needs you for.

Carmen watches you leave, wishing you'd come back to him.

Carmen had thought of your date night perfectly. A romantic, rooftop dinner overlooking Chicago’s nighttime streets. “You bring all the girls up to your rooftop, Berzatto?” You question as you stare at the cars passing by.

“Only the special ones.” He’d answer with a grin.

You wished he kissed you that night, but he didn’t. Instead he settled for dropping you off at your apartment before leaving. You could tell he wanted to kiss you, too, but he wanted to wait.

"So, you and Carmen?" Sydney asks as you help her open the Bear that morning, cutting vegetables up with her. You sigh, a smile on your face regardless. "How'd you hear about that?" You question in return.

“It’s the Bear. There’s no such thing called secrets when you work here. Everyone knows everything about everyone. Now, you and Carmy?” She asks again as you laugh. “There’s nothing going on between us. He and I got dinner a few times, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” You say with a shrug.

She stares at you, noticing the blush in your cheeks. You grin. “Don’t even. Nothing has happened between us.” You reiterate. She laughs, grabbing her bucket of vegetables. "Whatever you say!"

You roll your eyes, turning and staring at Carmen in the doorway. There he goes again, staring at you when you aren't looking. It doesn't slide past you that he has a noticeable sparkle in his eyes.

───

Of course the universe would have it out for you and Carmen to close together that night. As you two stand over the counters, cleaning them down, you decide to ask the question that had been plaguing your mind.

"What are you and I?" You ask, looking up at him for the first time. His scrubbing stops, as he looks back at you. "I want us to be together." He answers honestly, and you're a bit taken back by his honesty.

“You seem like you’ve thought about this.”

“More than you know.” Translation: I’ve thought about you.

You nod slowly as you walk over to the sink, beginning to wash your hands. "I want us to be together, too. I just don't want this to be weird between us because we work together, you know." You voice your concerns as you grab the towel, drying your hands.

You turn, finding him standing behind you. "I don't care if we want us to be together. I want us to give.. us.. a chance." He says, taking your hand in his. You stare at your hands interlocked as you hum. "Carmen."

"Yes?" He asks softly.

"If you don't kiss me right now I might just walk out and not come back." You tease.

He doesn't have to be told twice, and he kisses you like he's been thinking about it. Like he's been needing that. Hands cupping your face, yours finding his waist.

You didn't need much of an answer as to what you and Carmen were after that.

THE LOVERS PHASE

You and Carmen had agreed: the staff didn’t need to know you two were officially dating. If it was important enough to share, sure. But other then that, you two wouldn’t go around publicly announcing it.

Turns out, dating Carmen wasn't much different from being friends with him. Except now you were in the kitchen at two in the morning, slow dancing with him.

It'd started with dinner that night. Him holding you from behind,

Frank Sinatra plays lowly on the radio as he spins you around, with you grinning as you sway with him. “Who taught you to dance, Berzatto?” You question.

“Nat did. Taught me for her wedding. Said if I looked like a fish outta water she’d ban me from the reception.” He answers with a lovesick grin. You laugh, throwing your head back. “Sounds like Nat.”

He smirks. “And who taught you?” He asks in return. You hum as he pulls you closer to his chest, as Sinatra’s ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ plays. “I did. Convinced myself when I was a little girl I'd be like Misty Copeland.” You answer.

He grins. Only two weeks had gone by with him being officially yours, and he was falling in love with you. Maybe that’s why it spilled out as he held you close.

“I love you.” His voice is hushed.

You pulled away only a bit to look at his eyes. Maybe searching to see if they were genuine, if he said what you think he did. "Carmen..." You smile, a laugh coming out. "I love you, too." You repeat it back to him.

"Take the too out. Makes it sound like you're just agreeing." He requests softly, lips brushing barely against yours. You giggle at his plea, but comply anyway. "Carmen, I love you." You say it again, this time it feels more real.

Two weeks in, and you two are in love. If you knew any better, you'd assume you were screwed.

───

"What do you wanna do with your life?" The question startled you as you and Carmen sat on the balcony of your apartment, overlooking downtown Chicago. Buildings illuminating the night sky, car horns blaring every few minutes from the nighttime traffic.

"I wanna open a bar. Maybe go to Los Angeles or New York, just open my own place. You know?" You hold your knees up on the patio chair with you, a cup of tea in hand. "Some dive bar but... fancier. Live music, live entertainment."

He nods slowly, grabbing out his notepad. "Get out of Chicago?" He asks. You laugh. "Pretty much. Don't get me wrong, I love this city. This just.. isn't the plan." You say with a shrug.

"Mm." He says, scribbling something down on the paper. You lean over, staring at it. "What are you drawing, Berzatto?" You question. "Nothin'. It's a surprise, if I show you it now it won't be a surprise." He points out.

You grin as you lean your head back. "Okay. What about you? Is the Bear your final dream?" You question, still looking over at him. He sets the pen down, looking over the skyline. "I don't know. Though until I met you I had all my dreams and goals figured out."

"Don't say it-"

"You're my new dream." He grins, looking over at you. You laugh, rolling your eyes. "That was unbelievably cheesy, Berzatto. I don't know if I can ever look at you the same after that." You tease.

"You don't have to look at me to kiss me." He points out as you roll your eyes, standing up. You give him a quick peck as you open the door, stepping halfway inside. "Don't take too long getting to bed, okay? It's cold out here." You comment.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He waits until you're fully inside to pull back out the notepad. Sketched on is a logo for a bar, your bar. Your name written in what he imagines is neon lights. 'ANGEL'S BAR'. The way he views you, an angel. His angel.

He hums, standing up and making his way inside, the notepad tucked under his arm. He finds you in the living room, sorting through the mail. “Hey, hey, my old college roommate’s getting married. New York. What a terrifying city.” You laugh as you set the invite down, before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you down to the bedroom.

───

Carmen had spent so much time in your apartment that it practically felt like his own. So, the idea of asking him to move in wasn’t totally crazy. His clothes were now hung up in your closet, his cologne and cedarwood soap lingered.

Your relationship with Carmen had grown, so much so that you were now spending time with his family. You stood in the kitchen of the Berzatto home. Your first family dinner with them, and it had been more drama filled then a soap opera. Soft music filled the room, cinnamon roll scented candles lit making the house smell like a bakery. Your scarf hung on the staircase banister.

"First official Berzatto dinner. How ya holdin’ up?" Sugar asks as she slides beside you, handing you a glass of wine to match her own. "Oh you know me so well. It's going.. as good as I expected it to be. Are they always this chaotic?" You question.

"Hell yes. The Berzatto family has never been calm, y'know?" She laughs. "But you seem to be fitting in nicely. And this is the first year of us doing one of these that Carmen truly seems happy, I think you're to thank for that."

You grin. "Well, as long as he's smiling." You and her watch him in the living room, chasing down the younger family members, laughing as they tackle him down to the floor.

"Yeah, well, I've seen Carmen with other girls before, and none of them have made him this happy. So, on behalf of the Berzatto family, thanks for bringing us a smiling Carmy." She raises her glass to you as you laugh, lifting yours as well.

Carmen watches as you clink glasses with Nat as he enters the kitchen. "You two doing good in here?" He asks. "Oh, we are doing wonderful. I should go find my husband." Nat says, smiling and walking out of the kitchen.

You sigh, setting your wine glass down behind you on the counter. "Hi." He greets, arms wrapped around your waist. You hum, wrapping yours around his neck. "Hey you." You reply, pressing your lips against his.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” He says quietly after he pulls away, placing his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

You smile, placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m glad too, Carm.”

───

Arguments in relationships are common. They’re healthy, they bring growth. You and Carmen had a fair share of disagreements but never ones where he called you the name he did tonight: clingy.

“Can you just fucking leave me be for a second?! I don’t need you crowding me and being so- so fucking clingy.” Right in the office of the Bear, as you made sure he understood what was happening with Syd’s plans.

Now here you were, in Nat’s living room. “He probably didn’t mean it, you know?” She asks softly as she pushes some of your hair out of your face, wiping tears that fall down your cheeks. “I think he’s just been so worried about our mom, her issues and the Bear.”

“What if he did mean it though? What if.. What if he was just with me out of convenience or pity?” You voice your worries. She shakes her head. “I have never seen Carmy as happy anywhere else as he is with you. He loves you, Y/n. He wants to be with you, no one else.” She replies.

“You don’t call the people you love clingy.” You point out. She sighs, letting you lay your head on her shoulder. No matter what she said, nothing changed how you felt. Carmen thought you were clingy. Whether subconsciously or not, he thought it.

The thought made your heart ache.

───

You were younger than Carmen, you knew that much from the moment you met him. But it had never been an issue in your relationship, until now it seems. A simple, offhand comment about kids and marriage you had made to Syd. You wanted those things, and you wanted them with Carmy.

That’s what landed you in this position on a cold night, with him sitting on the armchair in front of you and you on the floor, crouched to try and read his eyes. Find any sign that you could get past this.

“We’re just on different paths. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get this close to you. And I should have stopped myself before I hurt you.” Translation: you’re still young and I can’t hold you back.

He didn’t stay after that. His clothes still hung in your closet, with you on the floor of the living room.

Translation: what now?

THE ENEMIES STAGE

“So, plans for you being in New York?” Diane asks as you and her sit on the rooftop of her apartment building. You sigh, as you lean back on your chair. “Drink a lot. Forget my relationship problems in Chicago and hope for the best.” You answer with a nod.

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You can’t expect to fix your relationship in different states without talking.” She points out as you look over at her. “When did I hire you as a relationship therapist?” You tease. “Carm and I will be fine.”

You couldn’t find the translation anymore for what “fine” meant.

───

The wedding was gorgeous. Diane looked stunning and her husband was the sweetest man. The sun was setting over Manhattan, as you sat at the open bar perched on the rooftop. Staring at the missed call from a familiar contact: ‘Chef’s Kiss’. Carmy.

Maybe you had asked him for too much. Wanting kids, marriage. He’d give them to you if you asked, you knew that. But the idea of him just putting up with that just to keep you?

You didn’t return his call or any of his texts. Instead, you kept quiet until you returned to Chicago a week later. A box perched on your apartment doorstep with your belongings. Jewelry, shirts you left at his place. All of them except for the scarf that still sat on Donna’s staircase banister.

Maybe he kept it because it smells like you. Or because it reminded him of something pure. The one thing he really knew was now gone, and the scarf was a fragment of that.

───

It didn’t shock any of the staff at the Bear when you turned in your notice and stopped working there. Or when you took the couch you and Carmy used to sit on during late night conversations and moved it eleven hours with you to New York. Along with his hoodies, the one you wanted to keep most because it smelled like him still.

You didn’t delete the videos or photos you had with him. It feels too real if you do.

You stared at the kitchen. Where he used to hold you, scolding you for how you handled knives. The balcony, where he told you that you were his new dream. The living room where he’d kiss you like it was the first time. The bedroom, where some nights, he made you his own, and others he held you while you slept.

The only thing you found in the apartment that was foreign to you? A piece of notepad paper, with “ANGEL’S BAR” drawn on the front. You stuck that in your pocket as you made your way to your car.

It hurts to look at. It hurts to think about him.

Now it’s just you, in your hundred square foot apartment that you share with a roommate now. You manage to delete the playlist of songs that he loved swaying with you to in early mornings in kitchen lights. You learn his favorite melody by heart: stranger, to lovers, to enemies.

───

Closing that chapter of your life, you focused more on opening Angel’s Bar. His logo on the front, in downtown New York. Soft piano playing as chatter fills the room, drinks being poured in the corners.

It may have just been Carmen’s luck to find you on opening night, chatting around with the customers as he watched from the window, a familiar red scarf wrapped around his neck to help fight the cold air.

Translation: it reminds him of innocence. It reminds him of the better part of himself, the one you brought out in him.

Carmen learned to take lessons from break-ups pretty early on into his life. The one he got from you?

“Falling in love isn't for the weak. So don't try it at home.” He closes the book that he was given as an assignment for his AA class.

Maybe you were his favorite melody after all.

𓍢ִ໋🔪 ♡₊˚ 🧣・₊✧

shine on, shine on, my loves!

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my carmen berzatto masterlist here for more fanfics!

taglist ✨ (to be added please reply to this post in the comments!)

@wabi-sabi1090

@harrysmatcha

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@urdreamgirl12

@readingwithsass

@angelicflower2020

@wadupppp

- mae

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wosoimagines · 17 days

Text

Second Chance

part 2 of rivals

Jo's second camp with the team is nearly over and she gets news of her future.

2,367 words

previous part| |next part

“Hi, kid.”

I grinned at the familiar voice as I closed the door behind me.

“Hey, Becky.”

The woman smiled at me as I threw my bag onto the open bed. I hadn’t exactly expected Jill to room me with Becky again, but it was nice. Becky had helped to make sure that I actually got to bed at a responsible time and that I wasn’t late to any meetings or practices. After all, it had been quite easy for me to get distracted by everything else.

“Did you get to go to the lake?”

“Yeah, we went for a couple of days,” I admitted.

Becky nodded at that before she turned back to the book that she was reading. I tilted my head as I read the title.

“ The Portrait of Dorian Gray ,” I read off the spin. Becky looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never read it.”

“I could read it out loud, if you’d like.”

I smiled at Becky as I nodded. Becky looked back down at the book as I kicked my shoes off.

“‘I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then--but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.’”

I grinned as Becky read the words on the pages. I knew that we had at least an hour, if not two, until our meeting started since they were still waiting on quite a few players to get into the hotel. I didn’t give Becky time to start the next paragraph as I crawled into her bed before ducking my head under her left arm so I could look at the pages. Becky stayed silent for a moment as I got comfortable.

It wasn’t until I had settled down and stopped moving that Becky continued.

“‘Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade name of the firm. That is all.’

‘I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive--and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud--I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. 'You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?' she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?’”

Becky’s voice was definitely one of the most soothing voices I had ever heard. Maybe she could become a professional audiobook reader or something like that once she retired from playing. Or even just take it up during the off-season. I wouldn’t mind listening to Becky read me more books if her voice was always this soothing.

“‘Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,’ said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long, nervous fingers.

‘I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to Royalties, and people with Stars and Garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other.’”

I couldn’t find it in myself to fight off the sleep as Becky’s voice lulled me into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, pipsqueak.”

I looked at Hope who had sat down across from me. I titled my head at her sudden presence. I knew that she often sat at the table with Carli and Christie during our meals. But they were both seated at a table that was behind Hope.

“Hi, Hope.”

I looked over my shoulder where most of the team was still getting their food. Being small did come with advantages, such as being small enough to get around everyone so I could be one of the first to get my food. I spotted Becky and Alyssa who were just now grabbing their own plates to fill them up. I turned back to look at Hope.

“Look, I just came to say that maybe you aren’t that bad.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. Hope complimenting me had been the last thing I was expecting. After all, we still weren’t getting along that well. It seemed like we both tolerated each other just enough for a fight not to break out during practice, but that didn’t stop the two of us from exchanging words during practice.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Hope said as she kept her eyes trained on her plate as she stabbed some of the food with her fork. “You still aren’t better than I am. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t helping us out.”

I stayed silent, causing Hope to look up at me. She just stared back at me. I was trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke or something.

“Who are you and what have you done with Hope Solo?”

Hope chuckled at that as she nodded.

“That’s cute, pipsqueak.”

“No seriously. Hope Solo would never compliment me. We go at each other’s throats,” I said as I shook my head. I turned my attention back to my plate. Hope had to be seriously sick if she was being nice to me all of a sudden. “Mine and Hope’s relationship does not consist of us being nice to each other. We’re like sweet potatoes and mustard. They don’t go together. I don’t give a shit what Mick says either. He’s a weirdo for eating sweet potatoes and mustard.”

“No, I’m serious, Jo,” Hope said. I paused at that before I looked up at Hope. “Can you just take the compliment?”

I shook my head. I really couldn’t.

At least not from Hope.

This was too weird. Hope wasn’t supposed to be nice to me. She wasn’t supposed to compliment me.

“Is everything okay over here?”

Hope and I both looked at Becky who took a seat next to me. I sent Becky a small smile before I turned back to Hope. I slowly nodded my head as I realized just what this was about.

“You’re being nice 'cause I saved your ass in the goal.”

“Jo! Language!”

I rolled my eyes at that. I already had a mom at home, I didn’t need Becky deciding to mother me while I was at camp too.

“No.”

“You said that way too fast for it to be true! This is about me saving you in the goal.” I grinned as I glanced at Alyssa who sat next to Becky. So it wasn’t because Hope actually wanted to get to know me. “You just feel bad that you tried acting all tough and like you could stop me and then you couldn’t back it up and I had to save the game against France so we didn’t draw again.”

“I don’t need help in the goal, pipsqueak .”

“Sure you don’t.”

It felt good knowing that Hope had felt bad after I saved her skin.

“You could have just said thank you.”

“Jo,” Becky said. I looked over at her as I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t too sure why she really cared what happened between Hope and me. “Just take the compliment.”

“But she’s only saying it because I made the stop on the goal line.”

“Jo. Take the compliment.”

My jaw slacked a bit at that. I couldn’t believe that Becky was actually taking Hope’s side.

“Thank you for the compliment,” I said once I eventually turned back to Hope. The goalie smirked at me as she stood up. I rolled my eyes as I lowered my voice. “Good thing you’re good at soccer. Cause the porch light’s on, but there ain’t no one home.”

It wasn’t until Hope was well out of earshot that I felt the hand connect with the back of my head.

“Ow!”

“You’re lucky she didn’t hear that comment,” Becky hissed quietly. I slumped back against my chair at that. I really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “I get it. You don’t get along with Hope and you might never get along with Hope, but she’s our goalie. You are going to have to stop trying to provoke her.”

“She doesn’t treat me fairly. Why should I be the one to have to extend the olive branch?” I asked as I leaned forward to get closer to Becky. “She’s the adult. I’m only fifteen.”

“Jo-”

“No, it’s bullshit.”

“Langauge.”

“And I don’t need another mom. I already have one.”

Becky sighed as she leaned back in her own chair. I looked away from her.

“What if I talk to Hope?”

Becky and I both looked over at Alyssa. I had honestly forgotten that she was sitting at the table with us because of how quiet she had been. It was something that Becky told me I would have to get used to though.

“As if that would make it any better.”

“That would be great. Thank you, Alyssa.”

I huffed as I pushed myself away from the table. I had already finished my plate and if it gave me an excuse to be away from Alyssa and Becky right now, I would take it. I didn’t need everyone else fighting my battles for me. It was part of the problem. If everyone else fought my battles for me then no one would ever take me seriously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, I heard that you and Hope got into it,” Jill said as I was wrapping my hand. I sighed as I looked up at her. “Is there a problem that I, as the coach, need to address between you two?”

“No.”

Jill nodded her head slowly as she still looked down at me as I finished wrapping my hand. I rubbed the bridge of my nose before looking back up at her.

“Is there anything else?”

“I really hoped that you and Hope would have gotten over this by now,” Jill said. I softly groaned as my shoulders slumped forward. “I’ll be honest with you, kid. I want to call you up for the August game and September-”

“I get it,” I assured her. I glanced at where the rest of the team was getting ready. Even though I had been friendly enough with Alyssa and Becky, the rest still seemed hesitant to get close to me. “Who wants a kid on their team when they’re the best in the world?”

“Jolene, that isn’t it.”

“Isn’t it?”

I looked away from Jill and down at my shoes. I knew that it was. It wasn’t the first time I had been left behind because I was the youngest one, and I doubted that it would be the last.

“Jo, you’re gonna be called to the U-20 team in just days,” Jill said as she bent down so that we were equal in height. “I encouraged them to do so. I think it would be a great opportunity.”

I looked back over to the rest of the team. But my eyes zeroed in on Hope. I knew what she would say when she found out that I wouldn’t be called to the team in August or September.

“The U-20 World Cup will be over before August. So what’s the point in keeping me out of the September camp?”

Hope would only boost and brag if I was gone longer than I needed to be. Plus, I didn’t want to lose the pace of play that came with the national team if I was gone for too long.

“Because you’re only fifteen, Jo. You will have to go to school and finish your education,” Jill said. I looked back at her. I didn’t care about that, I just cared about my future in soccer. “If your grades suffer too much, then I can’t call you up. You will be gone until late August if you guys make it to the finals.”

“So why have me go to the U-20 team instead of getting more practice with the senior team?”

“Because the U-20 team is going to a World Cup. It might not be the World Cup you were hoping for, but it will give you a taste of what it will be like next year,” Jill said as she sighed. I wondered if she would ever get tired of me and all my questions. “You’ll be expected to be a leader on the U-20 team as you’ve already been called up to the senior team. That will also be a good experience for you. I don’t expect that you’ll be seen as a leader on this team for years, maybe not until I’m gone even, but it will happen eventually, and leading a team at a World Cup, even a youth one, will be good for you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Jill sighed as she patted my leg before standing up. If I had to prove myself to Jill at the youth level again, I was going to do it. Nothing would stop me from winning gold in August. Maybe then, the rest of the team would also start to see me as more than just some kid.

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #leah williamson imagines #uswnt #woso #leah williamson

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a-luran · 23 days

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Oooh trans Arthur lover here. Any and all info I’ll take. I adore how you portray and Alasdair and his reaction (or lack there of) does Arthur have much support elsewhere. I’ve always though as Arthur as this kinda pale lanky being no matter what’s in his trousers and thus able to pass very well.

sorry pal! I was away but I'm home and delighted to come back to this ask.

My Arthur headcanons all depend on the AU I'm thinking about but i do feel like there is a general baseline so I'll answer based on that/ give a take on something approximating canon (or the canon that lives in my head rent free).

Like you say, Arthur is probably able to 'pass' from a young age playing on the biases of the people around him. He unassuming, lanky, fails to execute idealised masculinity in a way that makes him stick out as historically queer but not necessarily trans. (I wrote a bit more about my thoughts on Arthur, vanity, and historical masculinities here.

I think that growing so isolated, Arthur was in for a harrowing realisation when he (still very young) comes to live amongst settled humans and discovers that gender and sex matter to them in a way that it never mattered to Scot/Wales/Ireland (other nations coming across him would not have been able to tell, would never have gotten close enough. In my headcanon not even Francis knows, necessarily, for a good while. This is both a blessing and a curse). I think this makes Arthur zealous, isolates him further, and makes him defensive to the point of cruelty in the long run. He knows what people are capable of and going stealth is a defence mechanism at first, and later on just a commonality. This robs him of support and community, however necessary, and robs him of broader, more fluid perspectives on gender. I do mean it when I think that Arthur's greatest tragedy is of his own doing. In this case there are obviously a lot of other things in play-- his physical safety and the parameters of his social and economic conditions throughout history, his personal relationships and what others expect of him, etc.-- but there comes a point where the people and nations who love him would welcome him and he just won't have it. I think it leaves him angry and aching and with a skewed perception of intimacy.

I think he starts dabbling with cross dressing to explore aspects of femininity he admires but doesn't truly lean into it into the late nineteenth to early twentieth century. I had a couple of scenes in my drafts of a '5+1 times Arthur wears a dress (starting from the early middle ages to the present)' exploring this desire to explore gender as a trans guy but life happened and sadly I never got around to finishing it. My main takeaways from writing it though were his innermost thoughts about gender and beauty. This is also where a lot of my Alasdair-reacting-to-Arthur headcanons began to take shape. I think the Isles grew up relatively isolated and wrapped up in each other, in a lot of ways, which definitely affected Alasdair as well. He has never questioned his gender himself, or Sean's, and Wales', and so it never occurs to him to question Arthur's; it is just who he is. The only person he might question gender around if probably Francis (which is funny to me, and a little endearing. I think of Francis finally putting two and two together and figuring that Arthur is trans a lot, and the scenario usually involves Alasdair's fat mouth and his clumsy musings about gender).

Sean is similar to him in this sense, albeit probably a little more inquisitive about gender and sex and all things human (inquisitive but unwilling to chase down Arthur to clear any questions he may have; Sean's experience with transness comes from experiencing other people, and then turning to look at Arthur with a realisation of 'ah, I see you in others, and see them in you too. I understand you a little better now, and it makes it even more difficult to hate you.')

Wales has always been sympathetic and probably would have been the first to try and address gender around Arthur... only to get immediately shot down. I think that he is also he only person who truly knows the things that Arthur saw and experienced that so harshly made him into the man he is, and so despite how much he wants to talk about it, help Arthur, be the safe space he needs in the world, he understands he needs to let it happen on Arthur's terms.

Francis pushes where Wales doesn't, and insists on Arthur's wellbeing and talking things out in a way that a lot of the time ends up pushing Arthur further away too. It would never be Arthur's first choice to run to Francis, even if he might do it subconsciously. As the most gender-literate of the whole bunch, Francis would probably also get frustrated, which would make matters a million times worse. If anyone could cut Arthur deep it would be Francis, and it probably has been. Theirs is a complicated relationship despite Francis' best intentions.

I think that Arthur turns to Alasdair for all of these reasons. It's his gruff acceptance, the wordless kind of understanding he offers, and the fact that he lets Arthur decide for himself. Unlike Francis he isn't offering him words to describe what he is; he is just a constant presence by his side. It isn't all roses, I do think that Arthur needs the questioning and the pushback he gets from others to an extent, and Alasdair can be blunt and crude and insensitive. Part of Arthur might resent how at ease Alasdair is with his own body and the fact that he has never had to question his gendered role in the world (this assessment is also unfair, and Arthur knows that, but he wouldn't be able to help it. Envy isn't rational). Even with all that, Alasdair is a shield, a sword, and a castle wall. They all would be, if Arthur let them.

#hws england #hws scotland #hws ireland #hws wales #hws france #hetalia headcanons #in next week's episode: the Isles unpack toxic masculinity ksksks #I could keep going on and on forever because Arthur could not possibly be the only trans nation #and there are broader headcanons about gender and nation avatars that i really enjoy #freagradh

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nameless-12345 · 20 days

Text

Key Features

You are bubbling with excitement when you arrive at the apartment building.

Having grown up in a relatively suburban area, you found city life enticing.

After giving the door man a polite wave, you head to the elevator.

You reach the nineteenth floor. The highest floor except for the penthouse.

In front of the door of what was soon to be your new apartment, is landlord and building owner, Mr. Hartwood.

He doesn’t seem all that strict, he simply asks for the maintenance of the properties and prohibits pets that cannot fit in an enclosure.

Inside you settle down at the kitchen table.

“One moment, I put a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge. Let me go get us some while you look over the lease one more time.”

Mr. Hartwood pours two glasses of lemonade.

You thank him as you accept the glass with a smile.

The lemonade is sweet and you could swear it makes you feel almost lighter than you already were.

…

The lease is signed and you are overjoyed with your new home.

“Would you like to walk around and admire your apartment before you start to move in?”

“That sounds great!”

Room by room, you look over the space, picturing what it will look like unpacked.

Mr. Hartwood points out key features that make the property so special. Everything looks perfect, you feel like you’re on cloud nine!

After you think you’ve seen everything, you tilt your head in confusion, noticing a door for the first time.

The door is painted over in the same sage green as the rest of the walls. It is only visible due to the hinges, the gold colored door knob, and a small key hole.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this door before. Where does it lead to?”

“Oh! That’s the door that leads to my penthouse! There’s no need to worry, I’m the only one that has the key, silly girl.”

You giggle softly to yourself. Of course! Only Mr. Hartwood can use that door.

“You don’t mind that I can use that door to enter your apartment any time I’d like.”

“No, not at all! You have the key so you can use the door!”

“That’s right, so smart of you to understand. You are such a Good Girl.”

You smile proudly.

“See, I only lease apartments on this floor to Good Girls. You’ll find that you and your neighbors will spend a lot of time together. I should be a lot of fun.”

“Really?! All my neighbors are Good Girls? So many new friends! You are so smart Mr. Hartwood!”

“Aw, you can call me Master, Sweetheart. Welcome to your new home.”

“Thank you Master!”

— — —

When Master poured you the lemonade, he gave laced yours with a powder that, when mixed with the gas that pours through the air ducts on the nineteenth floor, makes you susceptible to Master’s control.

Even before this meeting, Master had been integrating triggers and brainwashing into your conversations. That way, you were ready to become a Good Girl when you signed the lease!

— — —

A few days later, you and the movers got everything into the apartment, and your new neighbors helped you get unpacked.

Master was right, they are such Good Girls.

Now you lounge on your couch, scrolling on your phone.

“Hello, are you all settled in?”

You turn around and see Master, shutting his door behind him.

“Yes Master!”

“Good Girl. You decorated your little pet home nicely. Perfect for when you are not up in my penthouse with me.”

“Pet home, Master?”

“I forget you are not the sharpest. I spoke the truth when I sold it to you, this apartment is nice, but I like my pets to stay with me. And you are my pet, you cute little dummy.”

You blush and crinkle your nose, trying to connect the dots.

“So I am Master’s pet, and this apartment is my pet enclosure?”

“Yes, Good Girl! Enough thinking though, I wouldn’t want you to hurt your little head.”

— — —

Such a lucky pet, you get to stay in Master’s home!

And when he is busy and you wanna play, the Good Girls on your floor come over. You’ve become very good at making each other cum, and edging the edge sluts.

Master is very pleased since you’ve proven to be a very Good Girl.

You no longer pay rent, but you keep your work because Master still wants you to have money saved.

Sometimes, the other Good Girls come over and Master visits your pet home! Master takes turns with each of you, and while you wait, you play with the others.

Once a week or so, you have Good Girl movie night, and watch hypnosis together.

After the movie you often play some more because, Good Girls make more Good Girls.

Every once in a while, you get a new neighbor. That’s always fun. You make sure they feel welcome like a Good Girl should.

This post is dedicated to my Key anon. 🗝️

Thank you for sending asks! I especially wanted to thank you for the pets! Your words always make me all fuzzy and warm. I really hope you like my story. Did you get all the Key references? 🤭

Thank you for reading! 🐾

#degrading k1nk #hypno k1nk #hypno pet #praise k!nk #degredation kink #praise and degredation #nameless-stories #🗝️

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myremnantarmy · 9 months

Text

𝐀𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝟏𝟕, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

Thursday of the Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel Mt 18:21–19:1

Peter approached Jesus and asked him,

"Lord, if my brother sins against me,

how often must I forgive him?

As many as seven times?"

Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

That is why the Kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king

who decided to settle accounts with his servants.

When he began the accounting,

a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount.

Since he had no way of paying it back,

his master ordered him to be sold,

along with his wife, his children, and all his property,

in payment of the debt.

At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said,

'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.'

Moved with compassion the master of that servant

let him go and forgave him the loan.

When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants

who owed him a much smaller amount.

He seized him and started to choke him, demanding,

'Pay back what you owe.'

Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him,

'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.'

But he refused.

Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison

until he paid back the debt.

Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened,

they were deeply disturbed,

and went to their master and reported the whole affair.

His master summoned him and said to him, 'You wicked servant!

I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to.

Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant,

as I had pity on you?'

Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers

until he should pay back the whole debt.

So will my heavenly Father do to you,

unless each of you forgives his brother from his heart."

When Jesus finished these words, he left Galilee

and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan.

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nostalgiachan · 2 months

Text

Morning Meditations

Nineteenth Prompt: A typical, relaxing day around camp

Summary: In a rare moment of peace, Vier takes the opportunity to commune with Lathander until she's interrupted by an unexpected visitor (1200 words).

---

High atop the rock which loomed over the campsite, Vier sat alone. It felt like a lifetime since she’d had a quiet moment to herself - well, as quiet as a moment could be when there was a terrible worm creature suckling upon one’s frontal lobe. The whoosh of the cascading waterfall off to her right did a marvelous job of drowning out its endless psychic static, leaving her mind free to focus on meditation. She had gone far too long without properly communing with Lathander, and there was no better time than right then to reflect upon him; after all, within a few days’ time, she would bid farewell to the sun, and who knew when the dawn would shine on her again?

If it had been her decision alone, the party would have been on its way to the mountain pass already - for if she could avoid the Underdark, she would avoid it. But the archdruid Halsin would be needed on the journey to Moonrise Towers, and there were yet things he needed to take care of before he could take to the road. Thus, there was nothing for them to do but wait.

Vier breathed in deeply, feeling the morning sun fresh upon her skin. Each new morning is a new beginning. A new chance to spread the seeds of hope far and wide, that Lathander’s light might reach them and–

“Psst, hey.”

–And help them grow within the hearts of the weak, the desperate, and the downtrodden–

“Hey, soldier!”

Vier’s eyebrows knit tightly together as her concentration was suddenly broken. Hurriedly, she put on a more pleasant countenance as she looked to the giant red unexpected visitor whose head peeked over the rocks. “Can I help you, Karlach?” she asked, her tone not betraying her mild annoyance in the slightest.

“Oh, no, was just wonderin’ what you were doin’ up here by your lonesome,” Karlach replied, “so, er…whatcha doin’?”

“I’m meditating,” Vier answered, “reflecting on the teachings of Lathander and giving thanks for the new dawn.”

“Hmm…Sounds boring,” Karlach spoke bluntly, yet innocently, which finally set Vier’s lips to pursing with frustration.

“I can assure you, it’s not boring,” Vier scolded. “Have you ever tried it?”

Karlach hoisted herself up onto the rock and took a seat next to Vier. Immediately, Vier was thankful for the cool breeze wafting from the churning waterfall; without it, she’d be set to sweating from the heat radiating from the tiefling’s engine, given how closely she was sitting.

“Can’t say I have,” Karlach replied. “Was never much for talking to gods and all.”

“You don’t need to speak to the gods if you don’t wish to, though Lathander always has an open ear for anyone. All you need to do is sit and contemplate.”

“Just…sit with my thoughts?”

“Yes. You can think about anything you wish - things you wish to improve for the future, beloved memories to give you strength, even focusing on how good the warm sunlight and the cool breeze feel on your skin. Anything.”

As Vier explained, Karlach shifted her posture, crossing her legs and sitting stiffly upright. “So, uh…do I do it like this?”

Vier couldn’t help but chuckle watching Karlach starting to take meditation a little more seriously. “If that’s comfortable for you, sure. Some prefer to sit on their knees, others sprawl out on the ground - though I don’t personally recommend that one, as you may be tempted to fall asleep. So, once you’re comfortable, you choose your thought, and you think. See where the thought takes you.”

For a moment, it looked as though Karlach was thinking quite hard about what to think about, her head tilting and bobbing as she sorted through options. But soon, she came to a decision and settled in, closing her eyes and sitting about as still as Vier had ever seen. As quiet once more fell, Vier returned to her attempted affirmations.

No matter how deep the darkness, no matter how despair gnaws and gnashes at our hearts, hope will always remain as surely as the sun will rise. Though we go now to a land trapped in blackest night, I carry the unquenchable light of Lathander with me. I will–

Once more, her concentration was broken by the sound of ever-increasing fidgeting and a rising whine, which grew into an aggravated groan.

“Uuuuuugh, I can’t do this!” Karlach grumbled as she flopped onto her back, arms and legs splaying across the surface of the rock. “I think I do my best thinking when I’m punching. How do you just sit still like this?”

Vier sighed with good-natured exasperation and gave the sprawled-out tiefling a gentle smile. “I wasn’t always very good at it. When I was younger, I used to think it was pretty boring, too. I used to watch my father at his services, sitting in silence for a whole hour, wondering just what you could even think about for that long.”

She relaxed her sitting position, leaning back and propping herself up with her hands. “It took quite a few tries before I started to get a feel for it, but it’s certainly not for everyone. Still, though, I appreciate that you even tried it at all.”

Karlach quickly sat up, arms draping across her knees. “You do? You’re not mad I couldn’t do it or anything?”

Vier felt the instinctive urge to gently pat Karlach on the shoulder rise up, but she quickly swallowed it down, leaving a guilty aftertaste. “Of course not,” she answered. “You did your best, and while it didn’t work out today, it doesn’t mean it can’t work out somewhere down the road.”

“Are all Lathander-folks this optimistic all the time?” Karlach asked with a small chuckle. From the twitch of her muscles, Vier could see she’d had a similar idea. Damn it, if only she could touch her. Karlach deserved to give and receive all the friendly nudges and back pats in the world, and it killed her that they both had to constantly restrain themselves so. But one day soon, Lathander help her, she’d give that mountain of a tiefling the tightest hug she’d ever gotten in her life. She would be fixed, and she would be loved.

“We always do our best.”

With a quick hop, Karlach suddenly returned to her feet. “Well, soldier, I think I’ll leave you to it, then. But, hey, maybe if I’m feeling ‘introspective’ one of these days, we can have another go at it.” With a wave and a “Cheers, mate,” she scampered down from the rock and headed back into camp proper.

And with that, Vier was alone once again. Almost immediately, she began to miss the big lug’s brilliant presence; but once more, she reminded herself this could be her only chance for proper meditation. It was time to get back to it.

Lathander, guide me. Cyril, watch over me. Keep me safe in the trials ahead, that I may one day–

Once more, a voice cut through the peaceful air, breaking Vier’s concentration.

“Darling, I am absolutely bored. What’s got you basking like a lizard in the daylight up here?”

Vier was never getting through her affirmations now.

#my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #drow tav #cleric tav #vier alurlssrin #astarion #karlach #lathander

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penig · 1 year

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I first read Moby Dick in the late 80s or early 90s, and the only part I remembered clearly was when Ishmael and Queequeg checked into an inn and the landlady asked them “clam or cod?” But what I remembered was that the newlyweds looked at each other in mutual incomprehension, but the landlady made impatient noises, showing no inclination to explain, so Ish said: “Clam?” And Queequeg said “Cod?” So she bustled into the kitchen and came out again with two bowls to slap down in front of them, and they were both delicious.

Which just goes to show that just because your memory is clear doesn’t mean it’s accurate. The spirit of the scene as written and as remembered is pretty close , but the details are all wrong. How could I possibly have forgotten her fish bone necklace?

Today would be a great day to gorge myself with some never ending New England chowder.

Anyway, getting with Queequeg has done wonders for Ishmael’s depression. He’s surrounded by the same ghastly portents of death as before, he’s still cold, and the people he meets are still dour and grotesque and many of them not very nice, but he’s not alone anymore and moreover his new husband is so clearly superior to all the jerks on the packet to Nantucket that they are not worth being intimidated by. (His husband is a Prince, you know. )

Now, I no more believe Queequeg is a prince than I believe Ishmael is a Rockefeller. I think the story Queequeg tells is a yarn, developed over time and travel, that he knows will tickle Ishmael’s fancy, and go over well in the mess. Nineteenth century sailing was an anonymous occupation, in which you could change ships and identities in every port until you settled in to one that suited. Anyone who wants a romantic backstory can have one, and white folks love knowing exotic “royalty. “ It’s not so much lying as it is mythologizing, the flip side of Ishmael’s anonymity.

(The book doesn’t begin “my name is.” It begins “call me.”)

Nor do I believe that Queequeg believes that his idol told him anything. One whaler, after all, is very like another, and Ishmael’s served on merchant vessels before. He won’t pick something that’s going to sink in the first gale or has an obviously alcoholic captain. It will do him good to be entrusted with a job like finding them a berth and give him the confidence that he needs in order to act as the pair’s face when dealing with whites. Which has already been necessary.

It’s nobody’s fault, not even the idol’s, that the ship they wind up on is the damned doomed Pequod.

#whale weekly #literature #non sims #memory

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bottomhaztoplou · 1 year

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Tabby's Writing Game: Day 28

Soft Sunday!!

I bring you more witchrry. Mostly because I didn't know what else to post. Hope you like it!

On the morning of the nineteenth, Louis woke early, even earlier than Harry for once, an odd feeling filling his chest cavity. He stayed in bed, wrapped around his partner’s warm, sleep-soft body for a few moments, but he kept feeling odd, like he was being… pulled, somehow. He kissed the back of Harry’s curly head as he departed their bed, tucking the duvet around Harry’s clothesless form so they stayed warm without him. He hurriedly got himself dressed, too, shivering a bit. The temperature was colder today. As he made his morning cuppa, he jumped at a plaintive meowing, faint as it was outside and he was in. Without bothering to dress for the weather, Louis hurried to the door, hoping it was the Interesting Kitten. And it was. They sauntered right in, twining around his legs and purring loud enough to feel. “Hi, love,” Louis cooed, crouching down to pet them. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you came in.” The kitten bumped their frigid little nose against his hand. “Sure is cold, isn’t it?” “Meow,” answered the kitten. “My Harry and I don’t have any cat food anymore, but we do have some tuna somewhere. Would you like some of that, love?” The kitten meowed at him again, eyes bright. “Come along, then,” Louis said with a smile. He went back to the kitchen and found a can of tuna, scooping out half of the can onto a small white plate with a golden rim and small golden decorations on the outer portion. Harry collected a lot of pretty mismatched dishware, this white and gold one just one of many.

They settled at the island together, Louis with his tea and current book and the Interesting Kitten with their tuna, which they lapped up happily. By the time Harry rolled out of bed an hour or so later, looking adorably sleep rumpled, the kitten had curled up into a loaf beside Louis’ cup, half-full of now-lukewarm tea. Their tail wrapped around the ceramic and the tea inside the cup vibrated slightly with the kitten’s purrs. “Good morning, darling,” Louis greeted them as soon as they entered the room, but he quickly noticed that their gaze was caught on the kitten before they met his eyes. “Good morning, Lou. Where did she come from?” Harry nodded toward the kitten. Louis’ brows raised. He hadn’t known the kitten was a she. He scratched behind her grey ear. “When you got irritated the other day and wanted me out of the house to clean, I went to the cafe and she ended up following me home that evening. Same thing the next day. She’s been hanging around here the last few days, too, but she decided to come in today. I was kind of hoping I could give her to you for the Solstice? You’ve never really mentioned if gift-giving is a thing for Witches on the Solstice like it is for Christmas, but she seems sweet and it would be nice to have a cat around again, you know?” he rambled, gesturing occasionally with his book-filled hand. However, Harry barely seemed to hear him, having caught the gaze of the Interesting Kitten, their green meeting her yellow-gold. Louis watched as they stared at each other in silence for a whole moment after he’d shut up, both eerily still, that is, until the kitten un-loafed and elegantly strode across the island, from Louis’ end to the end Harry was standing near. She sat primly at the end, curling her white-tipped tail over her bicoloured paws, waiting patiently for something Louis didn’t understand. “Astraea,” Harry whispered after another moment, almost gasping. At that, the kitten leapt into their arms, walking across their shoulders and settling atop them like a cat-shaped scarf. She nuzzled into their face, closing her eyes and purring. “What?” Louis asked, bewildered. What the hell did I just watch? Harry just smiled shyly at him. “She told me her name. Or, I sensed it, rather. She’s one of Shadow’s great, great grand-kittens, and she’s… she’s my Familiar,” they explained, their voice soft in a way Louis hadn’t heard in years. That explains the disappearing acts, Louis thought idly. Shadow had had that uncanny ability; apparently Astraea did, too. He smiled at them. “I’m glad that you found each other,” he told them, genuinely. He was happy for them in a way he didn’t know how to express, so he got up and embraced them, holding Harry’s narrow waist and scratching behind Astraea’s grey ear. He kissed each of their foreheads, smiling tenderly at them both.

#tabby's writing game #soft sunday #my writing #larry fanfiction #larry fluff #witch harry #cowan louis #interesting kitten #genderqueer harry #snippet game #writing tag #writing game

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awrldalone · 8 months

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4th September 2023

Today I finished moving into my new apartment. It took a few days, but now I think I have finally settled. A lot has happened in the months since my previous entry, almost a whole year has passed – I stopped writing because everything felt so repetitive, and constantly talking about it made me feel stuck in this murky whirlpool of cold days and aimless studying. I was drowning in myself, repeating the same words, complaining about the same problems. Endlessly.

I felt like a stick of wood stuck in the river current, an abandoned lighthouse in the storm.

Typing does not come as easy now. Documenting everything paralyzes me. Part of me feels betrayed: how dare I write about what I did today when there is no record of yesterday, of the months from February to August? I dare.

I visited a Musée Cernuschi today. It is an impressive collection of Asian art, mainly from China and Japan and Vietnam, collected by one of those nineteenth century rich French men. The sheer size of some of the sculptures stunned me. An extremely detailed bronze dragon, which was an incense burner, a winding tiger covered in some golden metal and an enormous statue of buddha got all of my attention, but the pottery was also, simply, pretty. Mundane things have a right to be pieces of art – in an ideal world a small bowl should be no less beautiful than Botticelli's Madonna della Melagrana. For this reason I have been struggling to buy things, stuff for my apartment.

It's a small room at the sixth floor of a beautiful old building, no elevator. I can see the roofs of Paris from my window. I am living in Paris now and it feels... odd. Some might say it feels like a dream, but everything feels so real, material, concrete. It's not perfect, and i know that living here will be hard, but it's better.

Moving has not gone smoothly, I had to take care of a lot of things, like signing an electricity contract and changing the washing machine and cleaning for hours, but now I'm here, on my bed, listening to music from my phone and trying not to use up all my internet data before I get WIFI installed.

–

February I got back together with my boyfriend. Everything is still so complicated, but right after I went back to Maastricht I left, without telling anyone, not even my parents, and I flew all the way to Lyon with only a few sweaters and my history of law textbook in my bag. I spent a few days with him, and everything was perfect again.

Then, during carnival we went to the mountains together. He tried to teach me how to ski, and I failed miserably, falling in the snow countless times. His parents own a little apartment, furnished with a warm wood that makes it feel smaller than it is, but never claustrophobic. He got sick and I played doctor, but it was all just an excuse for him to skip his classes and for me to stay at his place.

In March, it was his turn to come. It was a snowy month, cold, not much happened– he stayed over for a weekend. I installed a DS emulator on his laptop and we played Pokémon instead of studying, and I started doubting everything again. I always doubt everything. I still don't know if it's meticulousness or an unnerving inability to let myself have good things. We made chocolate covered strawberries, but the chocolate was not tempered and the fruit was wet.

We saw each other about once a month. My old glasses broke as I picked them up after having washed my face. The frame split without a word or a warning, and one of the lenses fell to the ground.

Once, in April, he came to Venice as I went back home for a few days during Easter. At the end of the month I went all the way to Lyon by bus and train, stopping in Lille for a few hours. Lille is a peculiar city, it feels more Belgian than French, the only way to describe it is a city proud to have been built at the border between two countries.

After my university's MUN, in May, I took the bus again to Lille, and the train again to Lyon, because M.'s university was having an end of year party. Then, we did not see each other for a long time. I got into Sorbonne. I was waitlisted at first, and I spent a few days biting my nails at the library, among all the medicine students.

I took a train to Paris in June to look for an apartment. I spend a few weeks between Venice and Rome with a Korean friend of mine. I travelled through central Italy – Assisi and Firenze and Siena – with some friends.

A lot happened. A lot. But if I started writing down everything I would not be faithful to time. It irks me to see that the most eventful moments have been centered around my relationship. I am my own person, and the passage of my time should not be dictated by kisses. Love cannot be my metronome. I am not sure if I am happy to be in a relationship: Ce. and I talked about this a few weeks ago, in Florence, and we both agreed that making decisions while in high waters is always a bad idea. She was also in high waters, with her mouth under the waves. I need to let things fall into place before I can understand my feelings fully. Perhaps writing about them will help clear out my head. Perhaps I can't just wait for things to sort them out by themselves, I need to keep unraveling this ball of yarn just to roll it back up.

Ago ergo sum. Our mandate is to create.

-c.

#diary

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 9 months

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17th August >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Matthew 18:21-19:1 for Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Lord, how often must I forgive?’

Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Matthew 18:21-19:1 'How often must I forgive my brother?'

Peter went up to Jesus and said, ‘Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘Not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.

‘And so the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who decided to settle his accounts with his servants. When the reckoning began, they brought him a man who owed ten thousand talents; but he had no means of paying, so his master gave orders that he should be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, to meet the debt. At this, the servant threw himself down at his master’s feet. “Give me time” he said “and I will pay the whole sum.” And the servant’s master felt so sorry for him that he let him go and cancelled the debt. Now as this servant went out, he happened to meet a fellow servant who owed him one hundred denarii; and he seized him by the throat and began to throttle him. “Pay what you owe me” he said. His fellow servant fell at his feet and implored him, saying, “Give me time and I will pay you.” But the other would not agree; on the contrary, he had him thrown into prison till he should pay the debt. His fellow servants were deeply distressed when they saw what had happened, and they went to their master and reported the whole affair to him. Then the master sent for him. “You wicked servant,” he said “I cancelled all that debt of yours when you appealed to me. Were you not bound, then, to have pity on your fellow servant just as I had pity on you?” And in his anger the master handed him over to the torturers till he should pay all his debt. And that is how my heavenly Father will deal with you unless you each forgive your brother from your heart.’

Jesus had now finished what he wanted to say, and he left Galilee and came into the part of Judaea which is on the far side of the Jordan.

Gospel (USA) Matthew 18:21–19:1 I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the Kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’ Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan. When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he had the fellow servant put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’ Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives his brother from his heart.”

When Jesus finished these words, he left Galilee and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan.

Reflections (4)

(i) Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

I often think of the parable of the unforgiving servant in today’s gospel reading as a commentary on a saying of Jesus elsewhere in Matthew’s gospel, ‘You received without payment, give without payment’, or in the words of a popular hymn, ‘Freely, freely, you have received, freely, freely, give’. The parable features a servant who had been entrusted by the king with great responsibility. We could think of him as the modern equivalent of a Minister for Finance. The debt of 10,000 talents he owed to the king was truly enormous, the equivalent of the international debt under which many countries labour. His desperate plea to be given time to pay the whole sum made no sense. He could never have paid it back in several lifetimes. Amazingly, the king simply cancelled the whole debt. Mercy triumphed over justice. There is an image here of God’s boundless mercy given freely to all who plead for it. When this servant met a much lower ranking servant who owed him a considerably smaller sum of money (the equivalent of three months’ wages), he refused the servant’s reasonable request to be given time to pay it off. The high ranking servant, having been shown mercy without measure, related to his fellow servant on the basis of strict justice, having him thrown into prison. He received freely but was not willing to give freely, even though what he was being asked to give was tiny in comparison to what he had received. It has been said that forgiving is the most demanding form of giving. Forgiveness doesn’t come easy to us, especially when the person who has hurt us shows no sign of remorse. Yet, the parable suggests that if we really appreciated how much we have received from God, how greatly we have been forgiven, without measure, we would find the freedom to give, to forgive, without measure. This is what Saint Paul refers to as the freedom of the Spirit. It is the Spirit of God’s love poured into our hearts who empowers us to give to others as we have received from the Lord.

And/Or

(ii) Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading Jesus tells a parable about a servant who received the gift of forgiveness from his master but then refused to pass on that same gift to a fellow servant. It is a parable which both celebrates God’s readiness to forgive us whenever we ask for forgiveness and challenges us to be as ready to forgive each other as God is to forgive us. Jesus suggests that the gift of forgiveness we receive from God obliges us to pass on that same gift to others when it is asked for. The way God is with us is how we are to be with each other. That is what Jesus meant when, a little earlier in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus called on his disciples to be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect. We can have all kinds of ideas about what being perfect means. However, in the gospels God’s perfection consists in God’s love, and especially, in God’s willingness to forgive. The saying, ‘be perfect as your Father is perfect’ in Matthew’s gospel is found in a slightly different form in Luke’s gospel, ‘be merciful as your heavenly Father is merciful’. The call to perfection is the call to be as generous and as forgiving in our love as God is. Along with the call, the Lord also provides us with the resource to respond to the call, and that resource is, of course, the Holy Spirit, what Paul calls the Spirit of God’s love that has been poured into our hearts.

And/Or

(iii) Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Learning to forgive those who have hurt us is probably one of the greatest challenges in life. Peter’s question to Jesus as the beginning of the gospel reading comes of out that sense of how difficult it is to forgive someone, ‘How often must I forgive my brother?’ The implication of his question is that there has to be a limit to forgiveness. Peter decides to err on the generous side, suggesting seven times would be often enough. In the biblical culture of the time, seven was considered to be the complete number. To forgive seven times is complete forgiveness; surely, no more could be asked of someone. Yet, Jesus does ask more, not seven times, but seventy seven times. There is to be no limit to our willingness to forgive. Jesus underpins this very challenging call with the parable that he tells. In that parable the servant owes his master ten thousand talents. This was a massive sum of money, equivalent to billions of euro today. It simply could never be paid back. In the parable the master felt so sorry for his servant that he simply cancelled the debt completely. Here we have the triumph of grace over justice. There is an image here of the gracious and generous way that God deals with us. Jesus reveals a God whose mercy triumphs over justice. The most memorable image of such a God is the father in the story of the prodigal son. The remainder of the parable in this morning’s gospel reading tells us that we must allow the mercy that God freely pours into our lives to flow through us to touch others. This is what the servant who was forgiven failed to do. One of the sayings of Jesus expresses the message of today’s parable very succinctly, ‘Be merciful as your Father is merciful’.

And/Or

(iv) Thursday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time

The parable Jesus speaks in today’s gospel reading has two clear messages. The first and most important message relates to God and the second relates to ourselves. The parable declares that God’s forgiveness is boundless. The first servant owed ten thousand talents, which is an astronomical sum of money. It is the kind of debt that could never be paid. We might think of the debt that some of the developing countries owe to the International Bank. The king in the parable simply cancelled the debt in response to the pleading of his servant. He allowed mercy to completely override justice. Jesus is giving us an image here of God’s mercy. We always come before God in desperate need of his mercy and God pours out his mercy in abundance upon us in response to our cry. As Pope Francis has said, Jesus reveals the face of God to be Mercy, a mercy that is immeasurable. We constantly live in the grace of God’s abundant mercy. The second servant owed this first servant whose debt was cancelled two hundred denarii, about two months wages. This is a manageable sum which could have easily been paid off with a bit of time. However, the first servant would not give his fellow servant the time he needed and had him thrown into prison. He could not pass on even a fraction of the abundant mercy that had been showered on him. As a result, he lost the mercy he had been shown. The parable is saying to us that there is an onus on us to pass on some of the extraordinary mercy we have received from God. When God graces us he looks to us to grace others with what has been so generously given to us.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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apenas-um-som-do-silencio · 1 year

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#youtube

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sayurifellfrost · 1 year

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Looming in the Dark

Nineteenth Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon, 9 Seventh Astral Era

Ulha’li’s attention rested upon the woman stood atop the bridge a short distance away, leaning against one of the pillars of the bridge with her back turned to him and Jixa. It was a Seeker, with waist-long, white hair, clad in a black, Far Eastern haori. She had arrived some time ago, and opted to simply stay on the bridge.

“Are ye’ listenin’ t’me?”

“.. Huh?”

Ulha’li blinked, shifting his gaze onto Jixa - who now stood with her arms folded and an irritated gaze locked upon her brother.

“.. Yer fuckin’ unbelievable.” she sighed.

“.. Wha’ did I do?”

“-- ‘S wha’ y’ain’ doin’, which is helpin’ me look ‘round.” Jixa gestured around them. “Instead y’stood starin’ at some lass.”

“.. Wha’? Folks back ‘ome migh’ want ‘er..” Ulha’li muttered.

Jixa frowned and sent a hand for the back of her brother’s head, smacking her across it and making him flinch.

“..Ow!” he exclaimed with a hiss.

“We’re lookin’ for Xhirha, no’ some random lass t’brin’ back, y’dumbass.” Jixa scolded. “Do y’damn job ‘n track.”

“Fine..” Ulha’li rubbed the back of his head, grumbling. “She didn’ even run this way..”

“Wouldn’ be the first time she circled back ‘round.”

Jixa shook her head as Ulha’li turned his back to the Seeker, letting his gaze wander the ground with every intent to begin his search anew.

“---Sayuri!”

A not so distant call made the Keepers stop in their tracks, attention drifting back to the bridge - where the Seeker had now been joined by a dusky Viera, the two locked in an embrace - a kiss or two shared. Ulha’li shrugged lightly and turned back, only for Jixa to grab onto his arm.

“.. Was tha’ the Viera callin’ out?” she asked.

“.. I don’t know, why does it matter?”

“... ‘S a Seeker.”

“So?”

“... Called Sayuri.”

“.. Wha’s y’point?”

Jixa kept a blank stare upon her brother, a look of disappointment taking to her features.

“‘S a fuckin’ Seeker called Sayuri.”

“Repeatin’ it ain’ makin’ me understand it.”

“.. How am I fuckin’ related t’ye’.”

“Ouch.” Ulha’li raised a hand and cupped it over his chest. “Words hurt, y’know.”

Jixa exhaled a deep sigh, frowning.

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘S just the name the Seeker who Grym fuckin’ wants uses.”

Ulha’li’s eyes widened a touch.

“The.. kid from.. a bunch o’ cycles ago? X’llaya?”

“Aye.”

“.. Well, shit.. Wha’ do we do?”

Jixa furrowed a brow, before flattening her ears as she noticed “Sayuri” and the Viera wandered towards them, blissfully unaware. She snatched onto Ulha’li’s wrist and yanked him along as she fled in between the trees, hushing him swiftly. “Sayuri” and the Viera walked hand in hand, locked in conversation with their attention settled upon each other.

“-- …Well, you need not miss me any longer. Mist is due for Ishgard, and unless she leaves work for me, I find myself with some free time…” the Viera spoke, his words trailing. “...Between my dancing. But still.”

The duo wandered by, passing the Keepers while their conversation carried on. They eventually settled themselves upon a rock overlooking the stream, a small distance away. Ulha’li looked to Jixa, brows furrowing as she slowly released him.

“.. Keep an eye on ‘em.. I’ll contact the Boss..” Jixa mumbled.

Ulha’li nodded, his attention locking upon “Sayuri” and the Viera while Jixa withdrew a few steps, carefully making her way through the bushes to ensure she held distance before she settled a finger against the linkpearl in her ear, hesitating for a moment.

“..Boss?” Jixa mumbled quietly. “Jixa ‘n Ulha’li reportin’.”

A long silence lingered, before the linkpearl crackled to life within her ear.

“What’s the matter? Did you find Xhirha?”

Jixa found herself taken aback as Z’quohn’s voice emit, rather than Grymahtyn’s. Her free ear lowered, a deep breath taken.

“.. No. ‘S.. somethin’ else. The Boss would like t’know, I’d imagine.” she spoke.

She was met with a disappointed sigh, before Z’quohn spoke once more.

“Alright.. What have you found?” he asked.

“.. A Seeker ‘n a Viera. We think.. the Viera called ‘er Sayuri.” Jixa mumbled quietly.

A prolonged pause lingered.

“.. Is she red and white haired?” Z’quohn finally spoke.

“.. No. Just white.”

“.. Blue and silver eyes?”

“Didn’ see.. Ulha’li ‘s keepin’ an eye on ‘em..” Jixa mumbled, glancing in the direction she had previously come from. “Wha’ do y’want us t’do?”

“.. Head back to your brother, watch them for the time being.. You will hear from us soon.”

“Gotcha’.”

The linkpearl died down, Jixa brushed her hands off and turned around, returning through the bushes and making her way over to Ulha’li, crouching down at his side once she arrived. “Sayuri” and the Viera sat side by side, their arms draped around each other and quite clearly locked in an affectionate embrace - their voices too quiet to hear while they occasionally traded kisses with one another.

“..Wha’ did I miss?” Jixa asked quietly.

“A whole lotta nothin’... ‘cept the Viera’s name ‘s Eir.. They’re plannin’ on travellin’ t’the East.. ‘N they’re sickeningly cute with each other.” Ulha’li grimaced. “Wha’ did the Boss say?”

“Quohn said t’keep watchin’ ‘em.. They’ll contact us soon ‘nough.”

“.. No’ the Boss?”

“Busy, I guess.”

The duo observed as “Eir” moved to pick something out of his satchel - something that very much looked like a jewelry box, which he opened up to the Miqo’te and turned his head away.

“I… Think I told you before. But you remind me of the moon.” the Viera spoke.

Ulha’li and Jixa cast each other a glance, grimacing in minor repulsion of needing to overhear them. Jixa opted to slip her satchel off her shoulder for a moment, letting it quietly meet the dirt as she dug into it and eventually withdrew a notebook and pen, flipping through the pages for a bit to find a free one to scribble upon. Ulha’li arched a brow, peering at his sister before glancing back to “Sayuri” and “Eir” - observing the Miqo’te softly settle a kiss upon the Viera’s cheek.

“..Wha’ are y’doin’?” he questioned.

“Keepin’ m’self from goin’ fuckin’ insane listenin’ t’em.”

Ulha’li shook his head lightly, before the duo’s ears swiveled as their linkpearls chimed in their ears and the rough, gravelly tone of Grymahtyn heaved forth.

“Where is she?”

The Keepers drew their lips into a thin line, their leader’s voice already dripping with impatience. Ulha’li sent his sister a stare, that only made her return one.

“...Answer him.” Ulha’li whispered.

“..Why do I ‘ave t’ answer him?”

“Beeecause.. y’better at ‘andlin’ him..”

Jixa sent her brother a look of disbelief.

“.. None can fuckin’ ‘andle him–..” she began.

“Answer.” Grymahtyn’s tone cut off, his irritation quickly rising.

Jixa took a deep breath.. and raised her hand to her linkpearl to press down upon it.

“.. Sorry for the wait, Boss. Just.. ensurin’ we ain’ bein’ heard, y’know.” she excused, frowning at Ulha’li who averted his gaze to keep an eye upon the cuddling couple.

“Do not give me excuses, Jixa. Answer the damned question.”

“.. The Seeker ‘s in Peacegarden, past the bridge t’Hyrstmill - where folks found Xhirha some suns ago.”

“Is she alone?”

“.. No. She has a Viera with her, seems t’be her partner, or somethin’. Lots o’ touchin’ ‘n kissin’.. ‘n nauseatin’ words t’each other.”

“And you are certain it is her?”

A small pause lingered, Jixa casting Ulha’li a swift glance as if begging for assistance - only for her brother to widen his eyes a touch and shrug - making her frown at him yet again.

“..Dickhead.” She grumbled at her brother, having removed her finger from the linkpearl long enough to insult her sibling before pressing down upon it once more to respond to Grymahtyn. “..We ain’ sure, Boss. ‘S a Seeker lady with white hair tha’s bein’ called Sayuri by the Viera, ain’ seen her face ‘nough t’tell anythin’ ‘bout her features, or been close ‘nough t’see any ice.. But we figured we’d let y’know any’ow, just.. in case.”

While Jixa spoke, Ulha’li narrowed his gaze a touch and hesitantly began to creep closer - gaining a stare from his sister who swiftly motioned for him to return to the spot he had just left. He merely shook his head at her as he slowly snuck his way forwards, hiding behind any tree, shrub or rock that would aid in keeping his presence a secret.

“.. Ulha’li ‘s.. ‘bout t’find out ‘bout the chill, I think.” Jixa spoke quietly, keeping a stern gaze on her brother.

As Ulha’li grew closer, he was met with a wall of chilly aether that swept through the area, an incoherent mumble leaving the white haired Seeker before both she and the Viera disappeared before their very eyes, a patch of ice left behind where they had just been sat. The Keeper stood upright, giving the ice a blank stare before raising a hand to his ear to press against his linkpearl.

“.. Air ‘s cold as fuck.” he spoke. “.. They just left through teleportation, ice ‘s on the ground where they were.”

A prolonged silence lingered, before a faint, dark chuckle emit from Grymahtyn’s end - making the Keepers trade looks of discomfort. Laughter from their leader was a rarity, and usually spelled out unpleasantness for someone.

“.. Mecelle will be sent to meet up with you. You will track X’llaya, and you will collect information about her until I say it is time to bring her home.” he spoke, as the chuckle die down.

“.. Got it.” Jixa mumbled. “..We will await Mecelle at Hyrstmill.”

No further words were given, as Grymahtyn disconnected the call wholly. Jixa straightened herself back up, lifting her satchel and pulling it over her shoulder once more before flipping a new page of her notebook while Ulha’li approached.

“..Righ’. Tell me wha’ y’heard while I was gone earlier, while we walk t’Hyrstmill.. I’ll write the shite down.”

Ulha’li gave a shrug and began to walk out of the forest with his sister, mumbling about the things he overheard which she proceeded to write down, no matter how much or little significance it seemed to hold.

#Sayuri Aoki #IC #[In The Shadows]

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