#trying to get my mojo for art back so to speak

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

mikey and gust

[anyataylorjoys]

People think the sauna conversation is simply an innuendo for that of what little remains between patrick and art when it was actually all the corners touching again and an overlap of multiple implications and callbacks. the dialogue in that scene was so meticulously crafted and well written I can't get over it, I have lost sleep crafting essays in my mind.

"Honestly, I thought you'd be happy I was in the draw, I mean you always wanted to beat me in a tournament..." suggests more than what Patrick is saying on the surface and it's unclear if he's actually talking about tennis here.

"You come in here swinging your dick around, like I'm supposed to be afraid of it, but do you realize how embarrassing it is that you are here right now?" this is absolutely not about tennis but being played off like it is. this is entirely about the competition of tashi.

"Not as embarrassing as you being here". patrick implies art needs the ego boost and only showed up to this tournament hoping to beat his "final boss"—so he can get his mojo back and move on to bigger competitors. this part of the dialogue feels like a callback to "it's what's been missing from your tennis", e.g the jealousy that motivates art to play to his full potential.

"I always wondered what happened to you, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized, it's what didn't happen" = implied that patrick isn't over the fact that he never got to suck art's dick tbh + "you never grew up" (never moved on from the polycule situation).

toward the end of the conversation, patrick opens invitation to stop speaking in innuendos. his response "we're not talking about tennis" flares art up as he recalls the time he saw patrick with tashi once after their engagement but tried to waft it away as his imagination. "what the fuck else do I have to talk to you about?" feels like he's daring patrick to confess to something as much as he is trying to scorch him with his words which reveals pain that he fails miserably to conceal.

the callback reveal serve at the climax of the film was the confession that art already suspected deep down, but the confirmation ultimately gave him the fuel to win as patrick knew it would. when he fell into patrick's arms it wasn't a victory for the sake of having won the game but a victory in finding that satisfactory moment where the three of them could once again meet in the middle wholesomely (more sexuendos etc etc)

seemingly from the start, it was tashi who was at the center of the polycule, but the reality was that they all needed the affections of each other, and the takeaway of the story was that none of them were able to thrive without that three-way bond.

[queenmuzz]

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

���Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

--

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

--

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

--

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

[stormyykat]

things i’d like to see from arc 2

this is just a list of stuff i would personally like, you dont have to agree with me. also i realize some of these aren’t the most realistic lol

Krokotopia - so krok is probably the next world? seems like it with the setup and addition of its stormgate, as well as the old assets. i don’t have a lot of wishes for the world (other than to be good lol) however i’d like to see less of Marleybone. I love MB but i want more focus on the kroks this time. Some other things, maybe an Alhazred cameo and Zigzag?

El Dorado - OK so most of these are gonna be worlds but i promise not all of them. ANYWAYS El Dorado is a given. I wanna go here SO BAD. also if they were to add El Dorado, I feel Wizard City and/or Celestia would probably be added as well, considering how tied they are to El Dorado (Celestia being the ones to unmoor the stormgate, Merle helped Marco Polo). For El Dorado itself, the gold sentinels HAVE to be mobs/bosses. Maybe we could finally meet the ghosts of our parents? Maybe FIGHT the ghosts of our parents? (wed get there and theyd be like we told your ass NOT to come here!!)

Marleybone p2/Albion Skyway - kingsisle please let me go to albion please please....i wanna help the foxes now that the war is over!!! LET THEM BE FREE!!! also this is a PERFECT time for a bonnie promo...jus sayin lol.. also guy fox companion? ik he ran off to port regal but i think hed try to get back to albion, we’d have to chase him down and make sure he doesnt blow up any small islands or whatever.

Companion Promos - SPEAKING OF A BONNIE PROMO...here are some companions i’d like to get a promo!!

Bonnie Anne (surprise! last promo at 57, around 75+ there should be another)

Ratbeard (promo at 55, around 75+ is also reasonable)

El Toro (HE NEEDS ONE give him epic strike at least)

Gracie Conrad (unreleased promo....pls...)

Hawkules (needs one, has an unreleased promo)

Catbeard (needs one, has an unreleased promo)

Tavern Companions (they all have unreleased promos. last promo at level 37??? they shouldve gotten one already lol)

Trainer Companions (anything to make carcarius usable. give him mojo flow?)

Starter Companions (been awhile, 46 last lvl. same boat as tavern companions)

Other (Magnificent 7, Argos, Contessa?, Mustang Sally. i just think companions involved in the story should all get something)

Presidio companions shouldn’t get another promo for awhile, as their last promo is at 67. They seem to get promos every 20ish levels (21,47,67) so around 85+ is reasonable. The ones listed above are either due for one or need one (imo).

Other Worlds - the worlds above are my most wanted, but these would be nice to see as well! i feel some of them are probably going to happen.

Polaris (no way that this one wont happen tbh)

Darkmoor (has concept art, a skyway)

Grizzleheim (one of the el dorado crew members is from here, only one we havent met in game besides our mother)

Azteca (Could be a lead up to dorado? also post morganthe azteca would be interesting!)

Celestia/Wizard City (already mentioned them earlier)

Monquista P2

Rajah (this is either a world or a skyway. Could be tied to Albion in a way)

Other Stuff - misc. things i’d like to be added.

Magic Mirror

MORE SHIPS/FLAG OPTIONS!! (Cool Ranch Skiff, Armada Ships, Valencia Ships, Boochbeards ship. More variety in flag designs, rerelease of the AMD ship flag designs..? they were so cool)

More packs/bundles (return of boochbeard bundle?)

Valencia P2 Nerf/Fix (you know i had to add this one)

If no fix, maybe we can get Able in arc2? Since Queen/The Armada is probably coming back.

More furniture/face items/Customization

Stitchable Nefarious Weapons

Gold Cap Increase

Kane’s Robe/Henchmen Items (a few of the henchmen wear items that we can’t get)

Fishing (i can do without crafting tbh)

this is all i can think of right now. if I have any ideas later i’ll just make a part 2 of this post.

[writtenfan]

Feel like double-crossing the Shadow Man? (Part 1)

Anon: Heyo! I know this is kinda weird, but please could you write something with Hades and a reader who is like... Dr. Facilier's sibling? Like, they are into that voodoo thing too? 

(I plan to continue this small story, but hope you enjoy what I have here!)

Warning: Some swears, be aware..s.

You ruffle your hair and walk into a small garden just inside a seldomly trafficked graveyard. The sun shines on your skin and it’s so nice and warm, it just felt like the perfect time to prove somebody wrong.

“I’ll show him, psh. Tell me I don’t have the power capable enough to summon my own assistance from the other side. Ha!”

...

You remember just an hour or so ago when you went to visit your brother after he pleaded with you for some assistance on a ritual that needed more hands than he had attached to his arms.

You remember how he bowed to you at the doorway to his dark abode. With his top hat, his purple clothes. His bone tooth necklace. 

 A new building, a new style. He really had changed since you last saw him at home. When you and he lived with mother...

“Glad you could make it little sista’ It’s been a…” his familiar purple eyes stared into yours, a hint of politeness masking years of sibling rivalry that made you mad just thinking about. But truthfully, he loved ya despite your bickering. He just had a funny way of showing it.

“…long time since I’ve seen you…I've heard, good things.” He sniggers with that deep voice of his and you just roll your eyes and push him aside by his shoulder so that you could enter the building.

He certainly wasn’t used to being touched roughly, it’s been too long since you’ve both gotten into a physical and or magical fight and his eyes widened for a few moments before he started chuckling and popped his collar, snapping his finger and slamming the door shut behind you.

The air from the slam whooshed into the room, but instead of blowing out, it ignited numerous candles that littered the space. Some in candleholders, some…in skulls.

“You really focused on the dark arts huh big brotha?” you say with a chuckle as you look at a few, freshly looking shrunken heads that made you fearful yet intrigued.

“Well, mother always said to pick a specialty and I’ve never been one to follow the family norms…” his voice was light and still polite, but you could feel the hint of resentment as he mentioned mother that made you sad inside.

You stop at a halt at the table surrounded by purple curtains adorned with a beautiful tapestry. You turn to him and sigh, “Well. Just be careful. Despite your attitudes and actions, I still care for you. Despite the fact, I’ve been told not to do so.” He’s standing in the shadow’s the glint of his eyes peeking through as he stepped fully into the illuminated light of the candles on the table. His fingers wrapped around the top of his magick cane, his eyes staring into yours with a wave of impatience.

“My my…” he walks up to you and looks down at you with a smirk. “Aren’t we being sweet? Going against the talk, feeling fearless enough to challenge the family and hang out with you long outcasted brother! I thought you were always the little saint, compared to…the others.” His gait is so swift as he moves to the other side of the table and sits down in the chair.

“Take a seat little curlicue” he murmurs.

Your dumbfounded to hear your childhood nickname but are jolted out of the past when the nearest chair to you moves back and knocks firmly into your middle, not enough to wind you but to jolt you around a bit.

You furrow your eyebrows and fake a smile. Oh, this was how it was going to be.

“I think we need it to be a little bit lighter up in here…” you wave your hand around a bit and the lights from the candles flicker a bit brighter and hover a bit from their holders towards you two.

“You mind?” you say with a smile,

“I do.” He waves his hand, and everything goes back to normal.

You stare at him from across the table and lean forward scrunching up your nose and he leans forwards and gives you a small sneer.

“I didn’t invite you to give me interior assistance, I invited you just for your little help and then you can be on your way.” He grumbled.

“Fine, Facilier. I got it. From what you told me; I won’t be making any deals with some unknown entity by doing this, correct?”

His sneer turns into a smile and he leans back in his chair hands behind his head and looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes and pops of his feathered hat, revealing the bunch of curly hair you remember fondly messing with when you were little.

“Cheri, of course not…I just need you for an extra boost. Nothing more…all the talking and the promises will be done by me.” He elegantly gestures to himself and then presses his fingers on the table, sitting up from his lax position of the chair, tossing his hat from its brim once in his hand then plops it back on his head. “So, shall we start sista?”

Something begins to creep itself from behind his chair and then fully steps out into the light with a wicked smile nodding.

“Oh seriously…not him again.” You groan and Facilier turns his attention to his shadow.

“Hahaha…what’s wrong? I thought you two just loved to play together when we were pintsized.”

“You two always started trouble Facilier and got me in trouble along with you.”

“The past is the past.” he grins and then it drops.

“So, are you ready?”

The air turns cold at those words, you shiver but shake it off and nod your head and you help him out with his ritual.

...

After the ritual, you're shaken by the waves of power that was cast though the circle of salt and chalk on the ground of his den. He simply shakes off like he had just gotten out of a freshly jumped in the lake and he walks with you back to the main room.

“Ha, that was quite interesting brother, I think I might just try some of that conjuring myself…maybe boost my flow of magic.”

“You? Ha!” he starts laughing and that is when things got heated.

He told you that you wouldn’t have possibly been able to do such a thing by yourself and to forget about it. Then when you argued back is when the voices started raising between you two. He said something about you being too weak to be doing anything worthwhile and you yelled at him that he was the dark Loa’s little bitch and then you were dragged out the house by his vile shadow. By the hair. But not before making his sorry ass fall to the ground and get tied up by the foot by the cloth hanging from the ceiling near his “fortune table”!

…

Which led to where you were now. 

Of course, you went by and got a few Hoodoo & Yoruba objects along with other magical tools from a few mystical boutiques and you set them down on the earth of the graveyard and once you liked how it looked, you got down on your knees, feeling the earth underneath them and sit on the ground, focusing on that feeling at the sunshine on your face through the trees.

You decided you wanted to invoke the help of something big, something to mess up your brother’s connection to the other side for a while…fizzle up his mojo. So, you decided to call out on the other side and see if anyone picks up on your offer.

You begin to chant your intentions softly and the clouds slowly begin to cover the sun in a thick overcast, how fitting. You continue your chants and focusing your intentions non-verbally before you open your mouth and set your hands on the earth looking at the soil.

“I’m asking for assistance, hear me and respond if your power is strong and you willing to aid me on my desires…”

You wait for a moment and meditate in the silence but after hearing nothing respond for 20 minutes you get up on your feet and look at your summoning circle in disappointment. You raise your hands behind your head and look up at the sky, feeling your bothers words of how weak and sheepish you were form into an anger that boiled in your chest like fire…

…Fire? fire?! 

You jump back as the small flame of blue exploded and a cloud of smoke engulfed the area for just a moment and dissipated revealing-

“-Woah talk about humid, not with all this black nuh-uh. But i’ll risk it for the look.” 

A deep-throated yet whimsical voice speaks from the tall form that had smoke traveling around its feet.

The being looked you in the eyes with deep black pupils, his face oddly shaped with a prominent chin and sharp, sharp teeth and cheekbones and that wasn’t the most notable aspects of him. Beside his blue-greyish skin, his head was blazing with blue fire. Blue. Fire. When you locked with his eyes, is when he let out a little “Ohhh?” and raised their hand giving you a little wave. “Ha! Shalom and who might you be?” He lowers his hand and presses his fingertips against each other.

 “Having the audacity…” he steps, no glides over the protective barrier and you step back frightened by its ability to do so.

“…but not only that.”

You keep backing up, but he keeps coming closer, and his hand gestures as he talks become even more intense.

“The ability. To just, BLOW my ears out with your call, I mean SERIOUSLY-“

You bang your back against a tombstone, and it crumbles at your weight. You fall over and he towards you with an intimating gaze as the stone dust travels in the air around you.

“RING RING, CALLING! CALLING!!” he raises his pitch and mocks a girls voice “Please, please help me teach my brother a lesson, please oh please!~” The dust cleared and you look clearly at the being before you and clutched the ground at your side, your legs still propped up on the broken tombstone.

“To reach me that loudly, you must get some spunk kid, some family ju-ju even? I can feel it in you, heh.” He then raises an eyebrow and fully takes in your position. “Oh, and might I dare say, and I do~ Cute too.” He says with a smirk. You scramble off the stone and bounce on your feet taking a defensive stance.

“Ahem, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to, make you jump out of your skin there.” The way he stares at you makes you even more uncomfortable as it was no longer hostile, but you felt as if he was looking, through your clothes.

“Hades, Lord of the Dead. Greek Division. How can I help you?” He reaches out his hand for a shake.

“Charmed, (y/n.)” You nervously place your hand in his and he shakes it gently, letting you go and giving you a big-toothed smile.

“So (y/n), a little bit of revenge eh? Talking my language, I'd love to help a gal out…but I can't just help you out. For free.”

“What is it you desire, Hades?”

“Desire? Ooh, I desire a lot of things sweetheart” he clicks his tongue and begins to circle you, and continues eyeing you up and down, making you stiffen and feel uncomfortable. “But I’m not sure if you have anything to offer darling, nothing…I feel your strong sense of self would let you do.” You furrow your eyebrows and he raises one of his and its dead silent.

“Well.” Your voice cracks but you clear it before he could feel your unease.

“I know my brother has a few things in his house of dark magic…perhaps something there you would- “

He holds up a hand. “W-wait wait wait…. house. Of dark magic?”

“Yes, about a couple of blocks from- “

“Ok. Ok. Ok…wait wait, hold up.” His eyes are wide with interest.

“Would your brother happen to be a tall lanky guy, mid-drift crop top showin’ gap-toothed fella?”

“You know him?!”

“HA! NO. I mean no, never met him personally. But you see, and this works perfectly into a possible agreement we could make for my services, -“

He stops in front of a tombstone next to you and sits down.

“-I respect the whole native magic here you know, meet up with a couple of guys the people worship around here for drinks down under. Ha! Such wild rascals! Throw great parties.” He looks at his nails and poofs up a nail file and starts filing them while talking.

“And they talk a lot about this big ace in the hole, right? This real powerful mortal on the front lines, the perfect lackey with powerful magic heritage. Ring a bell?”

Your mouth opens slightly in astonishment.

“Oh! This is PERFECT.” He pumps his fist in the air and rises to his…smoke, and glides behind you guiding you towards a few peach trees by placing his hands on your shoulders poofing away the file in his hand.

“They talk the big talk, right? About this deal they made with him y’know? An ongoing debt that gets better and better every time they talk to the shmuck, right? So, of course. I get jealous and they start getting cocky. Threatening that they’ll become even more powerful than me. White God. They call me sheesh, first of all. I’m a lovely shade of blue thank you very much.”

You find a nervous chuckle rise from your throat, but you refuse to let it verbalize.

“But you see, I just LOVE extending my reach, you know? I’m accepting of any mortal who wants to give my ego a boost see? Black, white, green, blue, chartreuse. I don’t discriminate.” He snickers and clenches your shoulders, leaning forwards and giving you this weird look that made you flinch and shake him off, but he didn’t give any mind, he was way into the whole lay down of his plan.

“There's a few Greek churches here and there and a few small groups and practitioners who hey, give me offerings. Out of the kindness of their own hearts!” he laughs and blows on his nails and rubs them on his shirt, giving you a sly eye.

“And to think I have right here, the same fruit from the lengthy tree of mortal magic, packing enough punch to help me make my mark here in The Big Easy…get at those chumps a little bit, make them softer, weaker, just a little something to mess them up a little.” He laughs and moves in close to you and presses his finger against your chest then slides his arm around your shoulder and pats your chest just below your collarbone.

“See, that’s where you come in, my deal is a win-win, you mess up with your bothers flow, I mess with your brother’s bosses flow. Two Stymphalian’s one arrow! Badabing!”

“We got ourselves a deal, little lady?” his voice grows lower and more seductive as he pinches your chin lightly and you pull away from him with a scowl.

“So, how will I be helping you get back at my brother's keepers?”

He smiles baring his surprisingly pearly whites.

“Oh, so insightful, can’t rope you in without the details, right?”

He presses his fingertips together and glides to a low hanging peach and daintily picks it between two fingers and holds it out towards you.

“I need you to be sweet like this peach, got it?” He then takes a big bite out of it and the juices run down his mouth as he talks making your squirm.

“Get in on your bro-bro’s good side. Ask him to teach you to become stronger, less weak, less simple-minded less like a sheep of angel’s and light and more rebellious and badass.” he mocks talking to what was left of the peach-like it was you.

You clench your teeth “His words, right?” he says astutely as he swallows.

“Yes.”

“Good, so you ask him for some family bonding, right? Get to a point where you witness him talking with his guys, maybe even ask to commit yourself to them…but pander to his ego kay? Say you’ll work for him or something.”

Your eyes widen “No. I can't do that they’re- “

“Now, now, you don’t got to, just you know schmooze them a bit, get them to trust you…then one night, or day I'm not picky. Conceal your presence and just leave this”. He poofs away the peach and in his flat palm lies a small amount of blue paint inside this squeezable black see-through tube. He presses his fingers together on one hand like and makes a small gesture in the air. “Just two little pecks of this blue dye on their main communication device, and whatever else he uses often in his work and I’ll be able to have some eyes and ears and sap a little of their oomph-” He takes his other hand,  forcibly opens yours and places the tub carefully in your hands.

“-Right on over to me! Maybe even turn some of their- “he jazz hands the air

“-shadow guys on my side, makes them more, receptive to my influence. Got it? Got the memo?”

“Fine, understood, and in turn?”

“Your brother's magical abilities get a little weaker, transfer over to you, and badabing! Who’s the prodigy child now? Sure, isn’t going to be him if you do things right.”

“So, we got ourselves a deal, or am I just wasting my time?”

“No, no I agree to you, Just a little spot, right?” You tighten your grip on the tube and look at its contents.

“Little Itsy-bitsy spot. Say you’re into painting or something if he asks about it. Gather a few more tubes like it to make it believable. I’ll even make it look the same, just dap a little on whatever he uses to communicate and or uses to conjure his famous illusions and we’ll be set.”

He holds out his hand a small grin on his face, eyebrows raised.

You don’t give yourself any time to hesitate and place your hands in his and with a bright flash and some swirling smoke around your hands he lets go and snaps, his fingers and a pair of shades materialize on his face.

“Great Wonderful. Absolutely brilliant now let’s talk schematics alright? Pop on by his place today or two more or whenever, just soon. I’m only giving you some time because I sense some recent tension between you two. I have a brother of my own. Brother’s more like, hate their nonexistent guts. Anyway- rekindle that bond. Become an apprentice, do the deed.”

“How long do I have?”

“I’m in no rush…but about 6 months seems fair, sooner the better. I don’t mind because, in order for you to get back at him, you need to help me out so it’s a go-go for the both of us, I don’t expect any hesitation…”

He clenches your shoulder a bit tighter “and if you're ever feeling a little unsure, a little oh no what am I doing? Just remember how terrible you two got along when you were tots, all the favoritism, the betrayal, and the turmoil and keep plowing on!” He sings the last part and raises his hand into the air dramatically.

“But know even if you get cold feet.” His voice turns icy and he spins you so that your face to face, he leans in slowly and you feel the air around you grow stale and hot

“You still made a deal…capishe?”

“Yes. I understand…”

His face changes to an ecstatic smile. 

“PERFECT! So! Run along, go do your thing…and if you need to contact me.” He manifests and flips a coin with his thumb, and It hovers in mid-air in front of your eyes. It turns slowly in its dull gold color with the picture of a wreath on one side and some fruit on the other. “Flip it, spin It, hold it, kiss it, bop it. Spin it. Tap it.” You look at him with a puzzled look.

“Ah whatever you want to do with it, your intention will seep into it and ring out to me, just hold it in your hand”

You take the coin into your hand and feel its hefty weight in your palm.

“Now, this was fun. But I got to go, the whole underworld to rule, dog to feed. Imps to burn you get my drift.” He lets you go and gives you a wink.

“Chow babe.” With a poof of smoke and flames, he was gone. Simple as that…

Now, it was time to figure out how to rekindle your relationship, after such a, nasty departing.

[romewritingshop]

Wake up Parker! Chapter Fifteen: The breaking point

Relationship: Peter Parker x Tall Older Reader (Peter is 22 and Reader is 26/27)

Warnings: Angst, Tension, dissapointment, revelation, anger

Word Count Total: 2779 (This Chapter)

Tagged: @bggerbtch @technicallykawaiisoul

Summary: Peter Parker is a student in the city of Brooklyn. He’s lazy, spoilt and he procrastinates a lot. He meets a woman named (Y/N), She’s recently moved to Brooklyn for an independent life. Something Peter is fascinated by. Over the course of a few months, Peter needs to realise that he has to grow up and become responsible for his life.

WAKE UP PARKER! MASTERLIST

Over the next week or so, Peter got out of the house and took various photos of the city. Finally getting his mojo back as his photos ranged from street art to people and the iconic structures of Brooklyn city. Today was a really good day because it has been about a month and a half since (Y/N) let him stay at her house. He needed to do something to thank her. Peter couldn’t buy a gift because he had no money.

Maybe he can show her that he can cook an egg. Make her a meal and he hopes that she would appreciate the gesture because she’s always working hard. Peter was climbing up the stairs to the apartment and spotted Natasha with a postman. She was signing a parcel from him and she sent a small greeting towards Peter.

The postman went and Natasha was about to head into her apartment when Peter called out to her. She was probably the best person to ask. Natasha stood in the doorway of her apartment, taking in Peter. He was a cute boy, not her type but she can appreciate his good looks. She smiled and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"Natasha. Do you know how to cook eggs?"

She took a moment to process but gave a nod, jerking her head towards her apartment and walking to the kitchen. Dropping her parcel onto the sofa and she got out the utensils they'd need to make eggs. Peter followed in and closed the front door, taking in her apartment and immediately felt Natasha's presence. Red painted walls and black furniture were dominant colours as he rounded the corner to Natasha’s open kitchen.

“So Peter? Why’d you want to learn how to make eggs?”

(Y/N) sat in her office arranging the layout for the fashion section of the magazine. The articles had been written up and the photos had been taken. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Mr. Barnes carefully as he sifted through a large pile of articles on his table. Most of them were from freelance writers but among the pile was her article. Having now gone through six drafts, she was hundred percent sure this is the one that will catch his eye.

After dropping off the last box on the software, she saved the file and emailed it to Mr. Barnes. Having been at the office for about a month or so, she has found the work at the company is rewarding. The only issue is getting Mr. Barnes to be impressed by her. Over the month, he’s been indifferent to her. Treating her as an inconvenience rather than a colleague, apart from the interview day, Mr. Barnes hasn’t even talked about the weather to her. (Y/N) hopes that her article will make Mr. Barnes talk to her or even look at her.

She shook her head to clear out the weird thoughts creeping in. Mr. Barnes was her boss and all she wanted was for him to approve her article, give advice and possibly publish it. She wanted nothing more than that. Even if he was handsome, intelligent and silent. Her absolute type. Mr. Barnes is her boss and it would mean the world if he had a look at her article.

“So I see you pining after Mr. Barnes.”

(Y/N) stood up and bumped her knee against her desk, grasping at it and cursing in pain. She sat back down and spotted the demon in her life: Clint. She furrowed her eyebrows at him and squeezed her knee as if it would make the pain disappear.

“I’m not pining after him! I’m trying to see if he read my article.”

“Well could you be any less subtle? It’s like you’re begging him to fu-”

(Y/N) put a hand on Clint’s mouth to get him to shut up. She honestly did not understand what was going on with him as she shushed him.

“Shut up! What’s wrong with you today?”

“Umhmmhm.” (Y/N) removed her hand to let Clint speak clearly. “Just felt like messing around with you. What draft number is this article?”

“Six.”

Clint shook his head and sat at the edge of her desk, wrapping his hands around her knee to massage some of the pain.

“You do know that the more drafts you do, the more you lose the essence of the article.”

“I get that Clint but every time he doesn’t read the article, something new pops up for me and I just have to work it into the article. I just hope one of these drafts catches his eye.”

A ping rang on her computer as (Y/N) opened up her email, Clint coming round to have a look and peek. Also to judge her on the arrangement of her desktop. Nothing bad and detrimental as Clint did a mental fist bump at (Y/N)’s organisation skills.

 Sent @ 14.51 p.m.

Looks good. Forward to Carol and then meet me in my office, now.

J. Barnes

 “Wow! Invigorating!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she got up and grabbed her notebook and pen, quickly forwarding the email to Carol at the printing press. She excused herself from Clint and rounded around her office to Mr. Barnes’s. Knocking and entering, standing right in front of him with her notebook open to take down notes for what needs to be done on her end.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

“I’ve gone through the articles and have chosen the ones to feature in our magazine. This pile is rejected so contact the writers and say that we’ll use their articles next time. Maybe tell them to redraft or pick another subject. Also send a follow up email to Steve and ask him what’s taking long on the photos for the ‘Scenic Locations’.”

(Y/N) gave a nod and tucked her pen into the notebook, grabbing a semi large pile of paper off his desk, she spotted something and pulled the sheet out, bringing it in front of her. It was her article as (Y/N) took a deep breath. It was devoid of notes or comments and (Y/N) felt heart sag a little.

“(Y/N), leave.”

She blinked into reality and gave a nod to Mr. Barnes, almost stomping out of the office with steam billowing out of her ears. She turned into her office and huffed into her seat, oblivious to the fact that Clint was still sat on her desk, with a now concerned look on his face.

“What happened?”

(Y/N) rubbed her temples and ran her hands over her head, leaning back in her chair with her hands cupping the back of her head.

“He rejected the article. Said to either redraft or pick another subject.”

“Was that to you directly?”

“No but he might as well have said it. My article was in a pile with other rejected freelance writers.”

Clint shook his head and got off her desk, placing a hand on her shoulder with comfort.

“Hey! Don’t take it personally. Mr. Barnes might not have even read all of them. Sometimes he just cherry picks the first five and refuses the rest.”

(Y/N) gave a nod and scrunched up her article, tossing it into the bin by the door of her office. Clint could tell it was bothering her a lot as he smiled at (Y/N) and left her office to go type up his own article. Although the good news was that she didn’t have much else to do other than phone up the freelance writers to inform them that their articles had been rejected. Two hours later, she was ready to go, packing her bag and locking her computer before stalking out of the building, without a glance to Mr. Barnes and a quick goodbye to Clint.

Two subway stops and a few minutes walk later, (Y/N) was trudging up the steps to her apartment ready for a night of take out and an Audrey Hepburn film. Just as she was going to reach into her purse to get her keys out, her front door open with a smiling Peter, dressed down in some grey shorts and a Pickle Rick t-shirt. (Y/N) had completely forgotten that Peter was staying in her house. Guess there goes a night of relaxation as she steps into her apartment, completely tuning out Peter as her eyes zero in on the mess.

Clothes strewn everywhere and empty cheese crusted pizza boxes, (Y/N) dropped her handbag by the entrance. She was taken aback by the mess as she took a deep breath to calm her anger. Peter was rambling about something but she couldn’t care to focus. Peter was glad that (Y/N) finally made it home because after so many attempts he managed to make a fried egg. He went to the kitchen and brought the egg to (Y/N) whilst recounting the day he had.

“Hi. You'll never believe this. I’m not even going to ask why you’re so late today? But it doesn’t matter. I made an egg for you. Nat taught me. You were right, she's so cool and her apartment…”

This was the last straw for her. He just needed to go as she glared at Peter with the coldest ice breeze that made Peter shiver unconsciously. He couldn’t understand where this chill came from as he glanced at (Y/N) unsure of why she was absolutely being icy.

“Shut up Peter! Look at this mess. Who is going to clean this mess? Why are your clothes everywhere? Why do you have empty pizza boxes on the floor?” His smile faltered slightly as his eyes dropped from the plate and up to (Y/N)’s eyes. Her anger was a little unnerving as he took a step back from her berating. He felt like a little kid again as Mr or Mrs. Stark would constantly yell at him for messing up.

“I made an egg for you.”

That made matters worse as she yelled at him louder, telling him off for the mess before stomping out of her house and slamming the door. He was sure everyone heard their argument as he stood rooted in the spot by the front door. Feelings of disappointment swarmed his mind as he took in the messy living room. It was a little messy and she was right about the clothes strewn around. Peter took the plate back to the kitchen to pick up his clothes.

He was pushing everyone away and he couldn’t push (Y/N) away. She had become one of his closest friends and without her, he would absolutely be lost. He needed to be better for her and he needed to show her that he was a responsible adult. He glanced around the room with a sigh and set about cleaning the place. Picking up the pizza boxes and tossing them into her bin, he grabbed a broom from a small closet in the bathroom and swept the dust into a pan. Discarding it into the broom and making his sofa bed neat. Whilst cleaning, he felt his anxiety slowly melt as his eyes darted towards the front door. Wondering if (Y/N) would come back.

“Thanks for letting me camp here Nat. I’m sorry for the noise.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hopefully you guys sort out what’s happened.”

(Y/N) smiled at Natasha and stepped out of her front door, glancing over to her own front door. Natasha let her come in to cool off and now she needed to have a proper conversation with Peter. The way she blew up on him was wrong and she really shouldn’t have gotten her anger over Mr. Barnes be vented out on him. She stepped to her door, knocking tentatively as she tested the handle, finding it opened easily.

She cautiously stepped in and noticed her bare floors: no pizza boxes and clothes; it was neat and clean as a small smile crept on. Peter must have felt bad and cleaned up, noticing he sat at her dining table with his head resting on his elbows. (Y/N) went towards the kitchen, grabbing two cups and brewing up some jasmine tea, bringing both to the table and placing one in front of Peter.

“Peter?”

He roused from his sleep as he tried to make the blurry vision fade away and he saw (Y/N) was there. Groggily, he sat up and spotted a steaming cup of tea in front of him. She sat opposite him, upright and both hands clasped around her mug.

“Look, Peter I’m sorry I got angry at you. I didn’t have a good day at work and blowing up at you was not the right thing.”

“No, I’m kinda glad you did. I would never have realised that I’m a messy idiot and that I’m adult enough to clean up my own mess. I promise to try to be a bit cleaner, next time you come home.”

She gave a simple nod and took a sip from her mug. Her eyes were taking in the kitchen, when she noticed a plate with an egg on it. Thinking back to earlier when Peter had eagerly brought the plate to her, guilt was starting to settle in her heart. A small apologetic smile as she got up and grabbed a fork from the drawer, bringing the plate to the table and taking a bite from the egg.

It wasn't anything extraordinary, just that same egg taste although it was seasoned well. It was made special because Peter worked hard and it was not right to dismiss his efforts in a simple task. It was a huge step and (Y/N) smiled earnestly at Peter.

"Peter, I'm proud about your egg. Honestly it's really impressive."

Peter felt a blush across his cheeks as he rubbed at the back of the neck. He felt a lot better from her praise as he gave a nod of appreciation. (Y/N) finished off the egg and sat contently, watching Peter run his finger along the rim of his mug. There was still a lingering tension in the air and (Y/N) realised that Peter needed something else.

“Peter. Don’t take this the wrong way but I think you should go back home.”

Peter stilled as his eyes darted up to connect with (Y/N)’s. She could tell he was panicking at her words and she quickly did some damage control to rectify her words. “Look, your dad -”

“Not my dad.”

“Tony Stark. He has such a successful company and you’re here in my house, making eggs. Why don’t you go back and try again?”

Peter glanced up at (Y/N), understanding what she was trying to say but how could he? After what he did and what happened. She didn’t even know the real reason why he left home. After a month or so of staying in her house, it was time he faced the memory of leaving home. Telling her how and why it happened.

“(Y/N), do you remember the day I came to your house?” A solemn nod as Peter continued. “See, three days before that, I failed my college exams so I didn't get to graduate. I lied to Mr. Stark and he saw right through it. Things got heated between us and he told me to leave. I’ve failed him many times and now I can’t go back unless I’m successful. It’s my fault.

“You look at me and you see his success but I'm not like him, (Y/N). I’m not a Stark. I went to his office for a week. If you went there, you’d be dead. It sucks your soul and it just wasn't me! However over the past few weeks, I'm starting to realise I'm nobody without him. I don’t want to feel like that, I want to be my own person. That’s why I’ve decided that I want to work. Please don't kick me out right now. Just give me one more chance. Please.”

Peter poured out all his insecurities to her and (Y/N) could tell the child Peter was gone. Instead a mature Peter sat opposite her, asking for a chance and help to do and be better. She simply could not refuse him. At the mention of a job and the camera that was always in his hands, when she first met him, she knew the perfect job for him.

“Alright Peter. I can give another chance and I might be able to help you get a job.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: GET A JOB! KEEP A JOB! BE A JOB!

[alienheartattack]

In the Spider’s Web (NSFW)

Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. After literal years of feeling uninspired by ship stuff (the manga is so far beyond shipping at this point that I now ship Mikasa with years of therapy), I went through my drafts and found a few attempts at the prequel to Things That Go Bump in the Night. To catch you up: modern AU, Levi is a vampire, Mikasa has been hunting him since he murdered Eren, then boners occur. And this time, thanks to the Comic Sans trick, I was able to bang out just under 5000 words of Rivamika vampire/hunter fun.

It’s been a really long time since I’ve written smut or even prose in general (I’ve been writing exclusively for stage and screen for the last 3 years) so I’m feeling kinda self-conscious that I may have lost my fanfic mojo or whatever. I usually don’t press for feedback but I would really love some this time around if you have the time. I hope you enjoy the story!

CW: death, gory injuries, getting drunk on blood, and straight up fuckin’.

Mikasa has to stifle a wild howl of laughter when she finally picks the lock on the blacked-out skylight atop the vampire's lair. This is it, she thinks, the culmination of her hard work to kill the man — No, not the man, the monster — who killed her brother. A flash of memory quickly stifles her silent celebration: the now-familiar sight of the shell that used to be Eren. The seemingly fathomless well of her sorrow threatens to overflow as she remembers the details she has tried so hard to forget: his golden skin turned to ash; his dimmed green eyes wide with surprise, staring infinitely into the void. Mikasa takes a few long, deep breaths, sucking in lungfuls of chilly October air until the image fades from her mind and she can devote herself entirely to her task.

The vampire's name is Levi, and even the most debased and inhuman Kindred speak of him in awed tones. Through her work with the Hunter Corps, Mikasa has learned of his legend: that he can puncture a mortal's throat and have the poor sack of meat half-drained before they realize they’ve been bitten. That he is faster, stronger, more cunning, and more ruthless than any of his kind. That he will not hesitate to display his physical and mental superiority to anyone, be they human, Kindred, or Hunter.

Tonight, Mikasa plans to drive a stake through the heart of the legend. She has followed him for over a year, tracking his movements and shadowing him as he prowled the streets of the City, hunting for prey. She has tried to kill him twice before, and twice he has held her off — but not hurt or killed her. Mikasa finds it peculiar that she has not yet met her fate at the end of his fangs, but has never considered why. The motivations of a monster are of no interest to her.

It has taken her far too long, by her estimation, to come up with this plan. She will hide on his roof at night while he finds his next meal, then wait for sunrise and sneak into his lair to kill him while he sleeps. She prefers to dispatch her quarries in a fair fight, pitting her impressive speed and skill against supernatural ability, but with Levi, her need for revenge outweighs her honorable convictions.

Mikasa watches the first rays of dawn creep over the horizon, chasing away the cerulean darkness with streaks of crimson. She takes the bloody sky as a good omen. According to her watch, it is 6:37 AM, just a few minutes before sunrise. Levi should be at his most vulnerable after falling into his daily slumber.

Time to go, she thinks, steeling herself for her mission.

She smiles a rictus grin as she slowly opens the skylight, careful not to let its hinges creak. Holding her breath, she climbs inside the building, finding a series of metal rungs to guide her down fifty feet into Levi's lair, and closes the skylight behind her. Her boot-clad toes seek soft contact with the next rung as she climbs down silently, languorously, like a stalking cat. Every few moments she stops to listen for his movements, to look down and see whether he is lying in wait for her. She hears nothing and sees nothing, so she continues.

The room below serves as some sort of ceremonial dining hall, with a long wooden table stretching across most of the room. Ornately carved wooden chairs sit around it, with the largest and most intricate chair at the far end: Levi's seat, undoubtedly. The table is set for a banquet with a multitude of plates, wine glasses, and silverware at each seat; empty silver candlesticks and candelabras run down the length of the highly polished oak. The hall is lit with hundreds of flickering candles in sconces and chandeliers, providing a dramatic backdrop to the priceless works of art contained within: painted portraits in gilt frames, marble sculptures, antiquities on pedestals and in glass cases. It is a museum of opulence, of corruption. Mikasa's stomach turns as she surveys the scene, imagining the countless people who gave their blood and their lives for Levi to amass a collection to rival the world's greatest museums.

And then, while she is deep in thought and dangling ten feet above the heavy wooden table, one of the metal rungs comes loose from its moorings — and Mikasa falls.

She has the forethought not to yelp in surprise as she pitches away from the wall, but cannot help herself from crying out as she lands on her side on top of the table, ceramic plates and crystal goblets shattering beneath her weight. Mikasa lies there, the wind knocked out of her, unable to take a breath from pain and shock. After a few moments, she regains her senses and groans as she registers a new pain; no, two of them, a dull ache in her ribs and a sharpness in her thigh. She feels around her thigh with shaking hands until agony surges through her and she finds the source of the pain: one of the silver candlesticks has pierced clean through her leg, its heavy base embedded in her hamstring muscles and its fluted tip sticking out through her toned quadriceps.

"Noooo," she moans. Even if Levi is not there, he will return any moment to see her served to him on his dining room table, bleeding and ready to be devoured. Mikasa attempts to sit up but finds that the slightest motion hurts so much that her vision starts to go white around the edges and hot tears stream down her cheeks. Even breathing hurts, sending stabbing pains through her side as she tries to catch her breath.

"So that's what you've been scheming, little fly," comes Levi's disembodied voice, slithering out from the room’s flickering dimness. Mikasa tries to summon the last of her strength to move, to do anything but lie there and suffer, but she can only raise herself a few inches before she lets out a tortured, feral scream, a wild animal cornered at last.

"Surely your feeble human brain can still form words. You're badly injured, but you're not dead yet," he says in a sharp, mocking tone, materializing seemingly from thin air next to her. "Emphasis on 'yet.'"

Mikasa takes in a shaky breath, rage and agony coursing through her in equal measure. "Fuck… you… Levi," she spits.

"For the record, that's not a sufficient apology for smashing my property and getting your blood all over my table." He goes to speak but pauses when he registers the scent of her blood, meaty and potent and alive, more delicious than anything he's ever smelled before.

"Your blood," he repeats, softer this time. "Oh, god." He groans under his breath, suddenly feeling weak in the knees as a potent hunger unfurls in his belly. Levi's expression starts to shift: his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack, exposing the tips of his fangs. His pupils dilate, inky black overtaking the otherworldly silver hue of his irises. He approaches her slowly, seemingly floating towards her, his eyes locked on her impaled thigh.

"Kill me," she grunts. "Just get it over with."

"No," Levi says, his voice hushed, almost reverent. "I don't want to kill you like this." He reaches one pale hand toward Mikasa and she attempts to roll away from him, crying out wordlessly at the waves of torment wracking her broken body. But he does not touch her: instead, his finger finds a spatter of her blood on the wooden tabletop and wipes it away, placing his finger between his parted lips.

The sensation that hits him is so unexpected and overwhelming that it nearly brings him to his knees. He almost comes in his pants just from anticipation; the fraction of a second it takes for his finger to enter his mouth feels like ten lifetimes, and he groans in ecstasy as he finally tastes her, all iron and heat. Mikasa's blood sings on his tongue, burning down his throat like the finest whiskey, filling his belly like a sumptuous meal and paradoxically making him even more ravenous for her. He is surprised to find that he does not want to drain her dry; he wants to savor her, coaxing a few drops of blood from her at a time, enrapturing her with the power of his fanged kisses.

Once the intense sensation fades enough that he can think somewhat clearly again, Levi realizes that Mikasa has been watching him the entire time. He meets her gaze, hoping he doesn't look as wild-eyed and utterly undone as he feels. If she notices, then he cannot tell, her face still distorted into a tortured grimace.

"Don't toy with me," Mikasa grinds out from between clenched teeth. Her breath hisses shallowly in and out of her mouth, occasionally punctuated by low moans.

"I'm not," Levi replies coolly. "I want to heal you, and I want you to come back and try to kill me in a fair fight. This..." he motions vaguely towards her curled body, "this isn't fun for me."

Mikasa lets out a guffaw despite herself, then howls as pain radiates through her broken ribs. "Fun? You find this fun?"

"I do," he says. He smiles wide, letting his razor-sharp fangs peek out from between his lips. "Your pathetic attempts to kill me have been fairly humorous, but the irony of you ending up in a bloody heap on my dining table, of all places, is too satisfying to put into words." Levi sucks in a shaky breath, inhaling more of her blood's heady perfume, then leans close to her, his mouth inches from her ear. "I should eat you up," he all but purrs. "But I won't."

With that, he disappears, leaving Mikasa alone in the great hall. She drags her arms, covered in her protective leather jacket, across the tabletop to sweep the shattered plates and glasses onto the floor, sending silverware clattering against the hardwood. She then feels around the tabletop for any other blood she has spilled, wiping it off with her hands before he can drink any more of it.  Even if he swears he will not kill her, she does not trust him, especially if he becomes intoxicated on the heady, rich blood of a Hunter.

He reappears a few minutes later, bearing a lacquered wooden tray. On it rests a delicate bone china teapot and two matching teacups and saucers, each painted with a pattern of vines and red roses. The roses look almost obscene to Mikasa, plump and splayed open, ready to be plucked.

"You're bringing me tea?" she sneers as Levi pours a measure of steaming amber brew into each cup. "That's really going to help get this candlestick out of my leg."

"No, but this will," Levi says, raising his wrist to his mouth and slashing it open against his fangs. He positions his hand over the tray as his blood washes over his alabaster skin and into one of the cups, darkening the tea until it looks like wine. He then licks his wrist clean, sealing the gash. Within seconds, his wrist is pale and pristine once more.

Mikasa goggles with disbelief at Levi, who places the cup of blood-tea near her hand. "You want me to drink your blood?"

"Are you just going to state the obvious over and over?" he snaps, earning himself a murderous glare.

"Pardon me for being a bit perplexed at my current situation. I don't usually make a habit of taking tea with the monster I'm trying to kill." Mikasa wrinkles her nose at him, thankful that she’s found one expression of contempt that doesn’t make her entire body ache.

Levi picks up his cup of tea, lifting it by the rim with his slim fingertips, and takes a sip. "Perhaps you should."

"Don't humor me."

"Look. I'm offering you a gift, in exchange for a promise."

"Then it's not a gift," Mikasa grumbles. Levi slams his teacup against the saucer but doesn’t spill a drop. The rattle of china on china echoes throughout the hall.

"Will you shut up? You’re really making me regret not killing you." Mikasa lets out an angry sigh. As much as she doesn’t want to make a deal with Levi, she can see no other way off the table without further injuring or killing herself in the process.

"Fine! Tell me your terms!" she grinds out.

Levi takes a long, slow drink from his cup before he answers. "You drink the tea and walk out of here healed and whole. In exchange, we call a truce. From now until the next sunrise, I don't try to kill you, and you don't try to kill me."

Mikasa considers his proposition, trying to find some flaw or catch. "Why should I believe that you'll honor this agreement?"

"Because if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now," he says, his voice low and raspy, seductive yet poisonous. Levi puts down his teacup and reaches over to her, placing the pad of his index finger on her pulse point just beneath her ear. He feels her heart fluttering, the pulse of her blood through her veins, then traces his finger down the path of her jugular. Mikasa's breath quickens beneath his hand. His caress blazes a path of heat down her neck, into her breasts and belly, and lower.

"Or I can toss you out into the night to defend yourself. I can think of a few Kindred who'd love to get their hands on you." Suddenly he removes his finger from her skin and uses it to push the wine-dark teacup toward her. His gaze bores into her, evoking the same peculiar heated sensation as his touch. "Drink."

She doesn't want his help, doesn't want his blood flowing through her body. She’s read that drinking a vampire’s blood causes a bond between them, albeit an ephemeral one, and she does not want to test this theory for herself. In this moment everything feels too intimate and too perverse to her, the vampire who drained her brother dry offering her tea and sympathy instead of a swift death. But the pain in her body grows with each breath, and she knows that she cannot leave here under her own power. At best she will have months of recovery, at worst she will be permanently unable to continue her hunt. Mikasa reaches out a bloody hand toward the porcelain teacup, but before she can grasp its delicate handle, Levi stops her, capturing her wrist in his grasp.

"You're not touching eighteenth-century bone china with your hands caked in—" he swallows thickly— "filth."

"I can't exactly wash my hands—" Mikasa says, but is cut off by Levi running his tongue over her hand, licking her skin clean. He sucks on each of her fingers in turn, rubbing his lips over her fingertips, lapping at the semi-congealed blood pooled in the hollow of her palm. He lets out a ragged sigh and braces himself against the table with one hand as his cock grows hard again and his knees tremble at the taste of her.

Mikasa is transfixed by the sight before her, Levi's eyelids fluttering closed as he lavishes attention on her skin. She has been this close to him before but has never noticed the length of his eyelashes, the soft pout of his lips, or the raw male power emanating from him. She has been nearly nose to nose with him in a fight, but now, lying battered and bleeding in his lair, she has never felt more wetness or more warmth between her legs.

"God, you're delicious," he moans, licking the last of the blood away, and Mikasa has to fight herself not to mimic the low, rough sound. Her chest rises and falls heavily as she contemplates the tainted cup of tea before her, wisps of white steam swirling above deep garnet.

"I have to avenge Eren," she tells him, her tone steady and resolute, yet mournful. "No amount of kindness from you will change that."

"I know." Silence stretches out between them for a few moments. Levi looks as though he wants to tell her something, conflicting emotions warring on his face until he lets out an annoyed grunt and decides to speak.

"You should know that I did him a kindness as well. He was wanted by forces much more monstrous and evil than even me. The Strigoi," he says in a hushed voice, seemingly too afraid to speak the name of the vampire elders’ council at full volume. "A quick death was the best I could do for him. That is all I can say on the matter."

Mikasa stares at him, her eyes shining, then gives him a small nod. "Thank you," she whispers, then reaches for the china teacup. Her eyes do not leave his as she lifts its delicate rim to her lips and drinks the entire thing in one swallow.

She can feel the potency of the drink as soon as it hits her tongue, the grassiness of tea leaves mixed with the smoke and steel taste of his blood. It swirls around her mouth and warms her, trickling down her throat and into her stomach. Without realizing she is moving, she lifts her other hand to his mouth, smearing blood across his lips until he grasps her wrist with both hands and hungrily laps at her crimson-stained skin.

Her breath quickens as she feels his blood doing its work, suffusing itself into her cells, making her insides roil as bruised organs repair themselves, fractured bones knit together. Mikasa reaches for the candlestick in her leg, wincing as she wraps her fingers around one end and prepares to yank it out.

"No!" Levi cries. "Not yet. You’ll bleed out and I... I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself." His voice is husky, thick with what Mikasa realizes is barely-contained desire. He runs his tongue across her thumb, capturing one last droplet of blood lodged in the corner of the nail, then lets her hand go.

If he wasn’t dead, he’d be blushing, Mikasa thinks, a similar flush blooming across her cheeks.

"Can you help me, then? I think you know your blood better than I do," she says with a knowing smile. Levi returns the smile and nods, climbing up on the table and kneeling beside her. He rests his palms against each side of her calf and runs his hands up her leg, stopping near the wound on her thigh. Mikasa shivers beneath his touch; the contact sends bolts of arousal throughout her body, overriding the last few threads of lingering pain. The only sound in the room is her labored breathing becoming more regular as her ribs heal, then the sound of fabric tearing as Levi rips her pant leg off from around her injury, leaving most of her leg bare.

"What are you—?" she blurts.

"I need to seal the wound," Levi interrupts, his tone brusque. "It’s easier this way." He waits a few moments, watching intently as the ragged flesh and muscle starts to join together. When it is sufficiently closed for him, he pushes Mikasa’s knee to her chest and grasps the base of the candlestick protruding from the underside of her thigh. He then yanks the candlestick out, sending it flying across the room, and attaches his lips around the open wound, drinking the residual blood and licking at her skin. Deep muffled moans escape from between her flesh and his mouth. When he is finished he gingerly puts her leg down and does the same to the other side of the wound, burying his face in her thigh. He uses one hand to steady himself and the other to rub his painfully hard cock through his pants, hoping to relieve some of the tension there. Mikasa writhes beneath him, though whether it is in pain or pleasure he cannot tell until he looks up from the now-healed wound to see her gazing down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth set in a pouty O.

In response Levi leaps on top of her faster than the human eye can discern, pressing her against the tabletop with his heavy, muscled body. Although he is shorter than her, a fact she never hesitates to point out, every inch of his body is toned and taut and imbued with superhuman strength, giving him the presence of a man twice his size. Mikasa gasps with the dueling emotions of fear and arousal when she feels him atop her, unsure of his intentions.

"You promised," she says softly, surprised that she feels wounded at the thought of his betrayal.

"I did," he answers in a low, breathy tone, then lowers his mouth to hers and takes her mouth in a fierce kiss. Mikasa immediately responds, her arms crushing him to her, her hips arching up to meet the rigid bulge in his pants, her tongue flicking against his as she opens her mouth to him. Levi presses himself against Mikasa, grinding his cock against the now-damp juncture of her thighs. She moans wordlessly as his zipper grazes her clit, marveling how she can feel such a thing through layers of fabric. Levi seems to share her thoughts, momentarily pulling away from her so he can unbutton his shirt and pants. Mikasa does the same, undoing the zipper of her jacket before Levi presses his hands to hers, stopping her.

"Let me," he rasps, his voice rough with need. He finishes undressing, throwing his crisp white shirt to the floor, kicking off his shoes, pushing down the waistband of his trousers. Mikasa mentally notes with a smirk that he does not wear any underwear and that his noted penchant for cleanliness seems to have disappeared under the influence of potent blood and sensuality. When he is finally naked, his muscled frame looking like sharply chiseled marble in the candlelight, his cock swollen and thick and ready for her, he pulls her up to a seated position and slips off her leather jacket, pushing his hands down her arms until it drops off of her body and falls to the table. The jacket hangs there for a moment and then drops to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, his fingers undoing each button with agonizing deliberation, tracing each inch of exposed flesh with his hands and lips; then her bra, which he flings in some random direction. He doesn’t know where; instead he is gazing deep into her eyes, seeing his hunger reflected in her dilated pupils and parted lips. His movements are soft and sure, dragging out the process of undressing her until they are both trembling and frenzied, ready to pounce on each other with barely-controlled lust.

He is the first to move, grasping her by the hips and yanking her pants and underwear off in one fluid motion and pressing his mouth to her pussy, inhaling the scent of her before finally, blissfully tasting her.

"Fuck!" Mikasa moans as Levi drags his tongue in leisurely circles around her clit, each circuit coaxing more noises out of her, breathy little gasps and sighs that only serve to drive Levi wild. His cock throbs in response and he groans, aching to be buried deep inside her. Mikasa rests on her elbows and watches him, looking down the flat plane of her belly at the top of his head as he licks and sucks at her most tender flesh. She flexes her hips and opens herself even wider to his touch; he responds by gripping and massaging her inner thighs as he devours her, the taste of her sex as intoxicating as that of her blood. He is firm and confident against her most sensitive parts, each motion pushing her closer and closer to an explosive peak. Within minutes she is shrieking and thrashing beneath him, orgasm tearing through her body with a force that only Levi possesses.

Before Mikasa can fully come back down to earth, he reaches his hands beneath her body and flips her over, depositing her on her hands and knees, sending silverware skittering, plates and glasses crashing to the floor. He barely registers the wanton destruction, focused only on the needs of his body, the desperate desire to plunge himself into her. Mikasa pushes her ass against the stiff length of his cock, silently begging him to ravish her, to give her pleasure by mercilessly taking his. Levi chooses not to indulge her just yet, grasping his shaft and rubbing his head against her folds a few times before he can no longer take it. He growls as she takes him inside her, her cunt hot and tight and slick with shameless need.

"Yessss," she hisses, overwhelmed with the delicious sensation of herself stretching around his cock, feeling herself adjust to his thickness. Levi tries to savor the moment but cannot resist the frantic urge to slam his cock into her over and over again, her ass slapping against his hips with each frenzied stroke. Mikasa starts to keen, her pussy clenching around his cock, sending electric currents of pleasure through both of them with every motion.

Levi loops one arm around her waist and pulls her upright against him, molding her back to his chest as he still maintains his furious rhythm inside of her. Mikasa leans against him, arching her back to give him access to her bared neck. His features briefly take on a look of disbelief at her actions, but the look in her eyes says Come, taste me.

"So fucking hot," he cries. He grips her tighter around her waist, using his grasp as leverage to fuck her harder. His free hand finds her clit, teasing it with his fingertips until she twitches and shudders against him, primed for another orgasm. Levi increases the tempo of his thrusts and swipes at her clit roughly, building a furious rhythm that will soon leave her limp and exhausted, if her frantic moans are any indication. His ministrations increase in speed, building to a fever pitch as he feels his orgasm start to build in his thighs and his balls. Mikasa’s eyes clench shut in concentration; an iridescent sheen of sweat appears on her forehead and neck, and blazing spots of color burn in her cheeks. Just before he comes, just as Mikasa’s cunt starts to flutter around him, he sinks his fangs into her neck and takes a long drink, the familiar but still somehow unexpected taste of her blood pushing him headlong into an orgasm that feels as though he is the one being drained. In that moment there is no Levi and no Mikasa, only two beings of pure pleasure, screaming their release as one.

Mikasa is the first to regain her senses, collapsing forward onto the table, sending another plate and glass to the floor as she catches herself on unsteady arms. Levi’s cock slides out of her pussy, glistening with her wetness. She makes a disappointed noise, feeling keenly the loss of him inside of her, a sensation of emptiness without his cock filling her. She lies on her stomach atop the table and lets out a long, sated sigh.

"Holy shit," she rasps, her voice hoarse and her throat dry from her heavy breaths and screams. She looks over her shoulder at Levi, her hair damp and matted to her forehead in dark tendrils, her countenance disheveled and gleaming. If he still breathed, the sight of her would take his breath away.

"Yeah," he murmurs in agreement, reaching out one hand to stroke her lightly sweating back, his mind utterly blank. Physically he remains pristine, not even a hair out of place; mentally, emotionally, he feels as confused as he does satisfied, as though he has been broken apart and rearranged in a foreign configuration. In due time he will register the magnitude of this encounter, will rage and seethe at the destruction they’ve both wrought in his lair, will scrutinize what the hell he just did with the woman who’s been trying to kill him, but for now all he wants to do is gather her in his arms and take her to his bed. He does so, moving with such speed that Mikasa barely registers what has happened until Levi is propping her up against a mountain of pillows, her skin glowing against his crimson silk sheets. He settles himself next to her, his body curling around hers as she does the same to him. Mikasa reaches over and brushes a strand of dark hair out of his face, then presses her lips to his gently, almost chastely.

"What just happened kind of makes me wish I’d asked for a longer truce,” he says after a few minutes of intimate silence.

Mikasa giggles softly, then sighs. "Me too." Neither of them suggests one, though, because that is not the way of the world. He is a vampire and she is a Hunter. They fight on opposite sides of an eternal war; they are not supposed to be lovers and bedfellows. After tonight they must return to their roles and forget about the passion between them and how they gave in to it, although they both know that they never will.

"You do know I'm going to try to kill you tomorrow night, right?" she asks him.

"I know," he replies, his lips curving into a wry smile before he can think to hide it. "I'm looking forward to it."

[sasorikigai]

Mun’s Asks: RP Edition || @heaimed​ || accepting 

11. What made you start wanting to roleplay?

TBH, writing used to be the last thing I was interested in, despite having a strong gravitation for it when I was still living in South Korea; I was in the charge of making the news section of the bulletin board when I was sixth grade in elementary school (elementary school goes up to sixth grade in Korea, instead of five), and even had my writings posted in local newspapers. As I immigrated to the States when I was fifteen, just trying to learn English, while catching up with my schoolwork was such a heavy burden and stress that I lost my interest in writing, and just language skills in general. Until high school years when I used to have a crush on my English teacher and wanted to try my hardest to get good grades. I still struggled with being a bilingual, feeling like I didn’t speak fluent enough Korean nor English at the time, at least not up to par where I should be confident and comfortable. 

And when I came back to South Korea in my mid twenties, I really began to miss the life in the States. I didn’t have any friends, and I was living alone in a relatively foreign city at the time (I was born in a small city in South Korea, and at that time, I was living in the second biggest metropolitan city). Being on Tumblr and owning a personal blog at the time was my solace and respite from two-job I was working, and I attempted to pick up writing back in 2015. At first, it was solely because of my curiosity, because most mutuals of mine back then owned both a personal and a RP blog. Maybe I could get into writing and develop as my own art form, because I always have been a visual person who gravitated towards any kind of art media.

Now my English skill has significantly increased from only writing one-liners with very simple prose to being capable of writing multi-paras and even novellas when my writing mojo strikes. And most importantly, I tend to fixate on fictional characters more than real people anyways (from unsavory experiences of the past), so writing as Hanzo and Kuai as of now couldn’t be better as I get to do that as little, or as much as I want. I probably couldn’t ever giving up roleplaying, because despite all the unpleasant and emotionally traumatic experiences of the past, roleplaying and writing has literally saved my life and have been serving as one of the most profound, cathartic creative outlet I have ever had (along with painting and journaling). 

[concealeddarkness13]

A New Dawn Part 6

In which Kai goes to Joanndu and almost hurts their car because she was curious. Tagging my collaborator @ratracechronicler!

Intro

Kai: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Rat: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

I stared out the car window as Rat drove us to the next destination. The aliens could show up at any moment, and I didn’t want to get caught off guard again.

But nothing happened. We neared a bright city that looked like it would hurt my eyes up close. Rat started her customary introduction. “Joanndu is all flashing lights, parties, and creativity. Again, very different from Zenith. They love the arts so much that there’re rooms in buildings that’re open to the fresh air so people can perform songs. Crowded, loud, bright. They have actual knights that keep the peace around here, and most people have actual swords just because. Might be a little difficult to steal in this city, so we might have to wait and find a more friendly city.” She grinned back at me, and I tried to smile back, but my mind kept wandering back to those aliens, to Tila. Did they know where we were going next? Would they already be here? I pushed away the thoughts when Rat kept talking. “They have this hot sauce called mojo that’s amazing. And we’re going to some more parties here because these are the best parties, from what I’ve heard.”

I nodded, but I didn’t have anything to add, so I didn’t say anything. Eli said something quietly, but I didn’t hear him because I stared as we entered Joanndu. It was huge, and there were lights and people everywhere. I stared for a few seconds before the machines filled my vision, and I gasped and looked away. Too much. So many machines. How could I see anything else?

Eli looked back at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “A lot of machines. Just hard to see.” I tried to look out again, but it was still too much. Crap.

I just sat, squeezing my eyes shut as Rat kept driving, but after a while I glanced over at her. She had been uncharacteristically quiet for a while. “Did I say something wrong?”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Nah. It’s just this place. I’ve got some memories.”

I didn’t push her. She probably didn’t want to talk about it. I just kept trying to look out the window, but I still couldn’t see anything through all the machines and bright lights.

Rat parked, and when we got out, Rat and Eli started talking, but I could barely hear them over all the sounds. I hissed out a breath and turned away from them, back to the car. Might as well focus on this one machine instead of trying to focus on everything at once.

I pulled out my knife and cut through the metal covering right over where there were the most interesting machines. I made sure not to disconnect anything, but I did pull out a few machines to study them closer.

Rat pulled on my shoulder and turned me away from the car. “For the thousandth time, what are you doing?”

I looked away. Crap. “I didn’t hear you before. I’m sorry. It’s just so crowded and busy here. I thought it would be better to focus on something else. Anyway, the machines here are so interesting.”

Eli laughed behind Rat as she rolled her eyes. “You wanted to distract yourself by vandalizing our mobile? Of all the excuses…”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t disconnecting anything. I just wanted to check it out.”

Rat muttered something under her breath, and I could barely make out one word: aliens. She shook her head. “Well, instead of being all destructive with your curiosity, how about we just take you to a snip shop where you can check out the most “sophisticated” of devices?” She pointed at her brain. “Those mainframe devices that you certainly don’t have.” She glanced back at Eli. “But that’ll be after we check out the knight academy. Just try and power through all the other stuff. Joanndu can be a bit much to begin with. But first, why don’t you try and figure out how to fix that hole in our mobile?”

I looked back at it. Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. Eli shook his head. “There’s something in the mobile to help fix it. You just hyperextended the fuel conduction mechanism, that’s all.”

When he handed the fix-it stuff, he flashed me a smile that I could barely see through everything else. “My brother is the exact same way. He’s so curious about machines. I think you’d like him.”

Rat got me some sugary treat that looked pretty but was a little too sweet for me, so I just licked it as we walked. I still couldn’t see much of anything, but when we approached a huge building that looked like a castle, I had to stare.

Eli was staring too, and Rat was watching him with soft eyes, so I didn’t try to ask any questions as we walked closer. But after a while, Rat started spouting off facts.

“St. Lovidia’s Cavalier Academy is 8 floors and 48 square kilometers. Way too many stones were used when they made this. And they went way overboard on the architecture. If you’ve heard of knights, you’d probably think of the full armored knights with horses in the stories, but these knights are a little different. Most of them don’t wear any fancy costumes like that, but some of them around The Academy actually wear capes and show off their swords.” She kept talking, but I didn’t really listen as I stared at just how big it was. There were so many people around it, I couldn’t imagine actually getting in. And Rat wasn’t lying about the capes and swords. Everyone looked so proud of what they were wearing.

“Anyway, that’s the information building you’d go to if you wanna learn more about how to get in and stuff,” Rat was saying to Eli. “It’s not like scary-big buildings in Hudson Bay, by the way, Eli. You really can just walk in.”

Eli kept staring at the building as we kept walking. “Oh good.” I frowned as we didn’t stop. Were we doing that because of me? Why should I get special treatment over what Eli wanted to do? But, we kept walking, and I didn’t try to speak up. I just hoped it was okay with Eli.

I was getting more used to all the chaos of Joanndu as we walked into a small building in the middle of all the tall buildings. It was pure white inside, and there were signs on the walls talking about warnings for some kind of procedure.

The receptionist looked up, but when Rat gave her the peace sign, she shook her head and looked back down at her computer. Rat looked back at me and spread her arms wide. “This is a snip shop, and this is the kind of place all of us cutouts went to get our mainframes ripped out of our brains.”

Eli grimaced. “Maybe say it a little nicer.”

Rat shrugged. “Nah.” She looked around and grabbed something from the reception desk. She grinned and held it up to me when she walked back.

I frowned and grabbed it before she could take it back. It was so tiny but such a complicated machine. I stared at it, trying to figure out how it worked. There was just so much to look at.

Rat cleared her throat, but I didn’t look up. “That’s a mainframe. It’s a crazy machine that manipulates our brains into seeing what we want to see. Such as…”

I nodded. “Changing how building walls look, and how even other people’s clothes look. Guess that makes sense why everyone with one of these in wears white. Also, it looks like it can message people, access the internet, and various other functions. If I named all of them, we would be here for a few days at least.”

I looked up when they were silent, and Rat was just staring at me, and Eli was grinning. “You’re amazing, Kai,” Eli said. “I can’t believe you can tell that by just staring at it. My brother would love to meet you.”

Rat was still staring at me as I looked away and held out the mainframe for them to take back. “I’m sorry. I should have let you finish.”

She blinked and smacked her head. “How in the world can that machine tell you all that?”

I shrugged as Eli took the mainframe and put it back on the receptionist’s desk. “I don’t really know how it works. I just know what a machine does whenever I look at it. It took me a little longer with your tech, but I could still tell.”

She nodded, even though she still looked rattled. “Okay. You’re officially the mechanic of this roadtrip.”

Eli laughed, and I walked behind them as we walked out of the shop. It was still hard to see out here, but it was getting a little bit better. As we were walking, I stiffened as my emotions were pushed away so that I just felt peace and calm. Where were they? I whipped around, but they weren’t there.

“You think you can make friends? That they’ll stick with you? Let’s see how long that lasts.” A whisper in my ear. I whirled back around, but there was no one. Rat and Eli stared at me, but I just shook my head, forcing a small smile on my lips.

As we kept walking, I pushed my hands deeper into my hoodie pockets. The aliens were still following me, which meant that they were still a danger. Could I make a machine to at least dampen the effect of their emotion-taking-away powers? My eyes darted around, and I quickly grabbed a small machine that could help. No one noticed, thankfully. I just needed to keep my eyes open for more opportunities.

[wistfulcynic]

Both Are Infinite, Chapter 6

A/N: So. Yeah. It’s been a while. I kinda lost my mojo for this story for a while, but I did promise all the WIPs would be finished (and promised the many, many anons asking about this one that I hadn’t forgotten it) so tada! I hope you guys can remember what’s been happening because I sure can’t. 

Only kidding (a little). When we left off Emma and Killian had finally got their act together and admitted their feelings after five years of friendship. This chapter opens with them at a B&B outside of Storybrooke the morning after. 

I have completely forgotten who was on the tag list for this so am just going to tag a few people I think were reading it. Apologies to anyone missed. @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @deathbycaptainswan @teamhook @rouhn (who did the lovely art as well) 

On AO3

Summary: Busy single mother Emma Swan relies on her best friend, Royal Navy Captain Killian Jones, far too much to ever ruin things by acting on the crazy lust she feels for him. The boundaries between them are firmly set... until they're not, and suddenly Emma and Killian are forced to confront the feelings they've been suppressing for far too long.

Rating: M

Chapter 6: 

For the first time in her life —though definitely not, she promised herself, the last— Emma woke up in Killian’s arms and felt no sadness, no longing or sense of loss when she came fully awake. Instead she felt simply happy, a wide smile spreading across her face as she snuggled into his chest as his arms tightened around her, and she could hear the answering smile in the voice that rumbled in her ear. 

“Morning, love,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmmm,” said Emma. “Wonderful. You?”

“Like I’m waking up from a dream, only to find myself in a better dream.” He chuckled. “What time is it?”

Emma groped for the clock on the bedside table. “Six thirty. Ugh, why am I awake now?”

Killian was nuzzling beneath her ear. “I may have been… subtly trying to wake you for the past, oh, fifteen minutes or so.” 

“You wake up soooo early,” she groaned, tilting her head back to give him access to her neck. “I’m not sure this relationship is going to work after all.” 

“Ah, well, we gave it a try,” he murmured against the underside of her jaw. “Perhaps just one last kiss before we end it?”

“Well if you insis—” Emma broke off as Killian’s lips captured hers in a kiss that started out soft but soon grew deep and hot. His hand slid down her body to nestle between her legs, stroking her gently, and it felt so damn good to have him finally touch her the way she’d dreamed he would but when she lifted her leg to give him greater access she couldn’t help letting out a groan that was decidedly not one of passion. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Killian, of course, spotted the difference instantly. 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed. “I’m just a litte sore is all. It’s— well, it’s been a while since I, um—” 

“Aye,” he said, understanding. “Well. Allow me to introduce you to one of the benefits of early rising, my love.” “And what’s that?” She felt an inch away from pouting when he withdrew his hand, and the kiss he dropped on her forehead did not make up for its loss. “It leaves you more than enough time to have a long, hot bath before checkout.” He grinned at her. “What do you say?”

“I say that sounds perfect. But only if you join me.” Her thoughts were already swirling with ideas of what she might do to him in a bathtub. 

His grin turned wicked. “You read my mind, Swan.” 

----

 They soaked in the bath for over an hour, kissing and caressing, and just enjoying the freedom to touch each other as much as they liked and talk openly about the feelings they’d been suppressing for five long years. When they finally got out the bathwater was cold but the soreness had gone from Emma’s muscles and she felt more relaxed and content than she ever had before in her life. 

Killian called for room service while Emma dried her hair and when she emerged from the bathroom the small table in the nook formed by the bay window, was laid with eggs and bacon and toast and fruit, and bathed in the bright morning sunlight. She was famished, she realised, but not so desperate for food that she didn’t squeeze Killian again before she sat down and dug in. She wondered if she’d ever get used to this freedom to touch him. She hoped not, she never wanted to take him for granted. 

“What are we going to tell Henry?” she asked after they had eaten in silence for a few minutes. 

“What might we need to tell him?” Killian looked slightly alarmed.

“Well, he might have some questions when we suddenly start kissing all the time.” 

His expression relaxed. “And do you plan on kissing me all the time now, Swan?”

She batted her lashes at him. “Allll the time,” she purred. 

He chuckled, then his face became serious. “On the subject of Henry, I actually did wish to speak to you about something.” 

“Something bad?” she asked, concerned by his solemn tone. “Well, I certainly hope not. I was just thinking, and I know we have literally only just got together but I’ve been thinking about this for some time, and— well, to put it simply, I’d like to adopt Henry.”

Emma’s heart leapt, then thundered. This was more than she had anticipated. “You would?”

He nodded, holding her gaze. “Aye, very much. If I’m honest, I’ve thought of  him as my son for some time now, and he— he’s given me to understand that he feels the same.” 

A small smile crept across her face. “He asked you to be his dad, didn’t he?”

“Aye.” 

Of course he had. “He asked me the same. I think we can assume he’d be on board with an adoption.” 

Killian smiled but his eyes were brimming with uncertainty. “And what about you, love, would you be equally on board?”

She would, Emma realised. As scary as all this abrupt change was, she wanted nothing more than for her son to have this man as his father. “I mean, of course I would,” she said slowly. “You’ve been in his life since he was six months old. You’re the only father he knows. And even if— if things didn’t— work out between us, even though I definitely think they will despite how freaking early you wake up, but even if they didn’t I’m sure you would still want to be in Henry’s life.” 

“I would indeed.” 

“I’d want that too. I can’t imagine anything that could make me not want it. But adoption is a big step, are you sure…”  

“It is a big step,” Killian acknowledged, “but there are practical factors involved in this as well you know, love, as well as emotional ones. 

“Practical factors?”

“Aye, for instance I have quite a generous Navy pension, and if anything happened to me when I was on duty—”

Emma nearly dropped her fork as a stab of fear pierced her. “What the hell do you mean if anything happened to you?” she nearly shouted. “What might happen to you?”  

Killian looked surprised at her vehemence. “I’m the captain of a guided missile destroyer, Emma, it’s a rather more hazardous than a desk job. Many things could happen to me.”

“Seriously?” Of course she’d always known that Killian’s job was dangerous but now that she finally had a chance at a relationship with him the thought of anything taking him from her was unbearable. 

He laughed softly and took her hand. “I’m very good at my job, love, and I don’t take unnecessary risks. But there are dangers inherent in any military career and I’d just feel better knowing that if anything did happen to me the two people I love most in the world would be taken care of. Of course I know you can take care of yourself and of Henry perfectly well on your own,” he added quickly when he saw the protest forming on her lips, “but think about it this way. My pension would pay for Henry to go to any university he wished.”

“It’s that big, huh?” She widened her eyes to let him know the double entendre was intentional. 

He smirked in response. “It is quite impressive. And if I adopt Henry it can go to him.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “Truly, I would. Not for the pension, though having that freedom for Henry’s future would be amazing, but because you are his dad and you always have been, and I’d like for that to be legal.” 

His smile was radiant, and when he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it she nearly melted into a puddle. How had she managed to resist her feelings for him for so long? 

“I can’t quite believe all this is real,” he said. “Twenty-four hours ago I’d have declared it completely impossible.” 

“Me too, on both counts.” Emma squeezed his hand. 

“And you’re sure you’re okay with all of this?” Killian asked, worry creeping into his voice. “It’s a lot of big changes, a lot to adjust to.”

“Yeah, it is, but at the same time… it isn’t? I mean, we’ve been in a relationship for years, Killian. Mary Margaret opened my eyes to that. Nothing substantive is actually going to change between us, we’ll still be living our same lives, it’s just now we get to act like a couple—”

“—and sleep together, don’t forget, I’d say that’s a pretty substantive change—”

“—and sleep together, yes, which is definitely a big deal and might be weird for a while, but honestly I am so happy and excited I think I can deal with a little weirdness.” She smiled at him, a little scared, a little shy, but completely radiant. “I just want us to be a family. Officially, I mean, we’ve really always been one.”  

Killian was looking at her liked she’d put the sun and all the stars in his sky. Slowly he stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “That’s all I want,” he whispered into her hair, “It’s all I’ve wanted since the day we met. I love you so much, Emma.”  

She hugged him back equally tightly. “I love you so much too,” she said, her words muffled against his chest. 

They stood entwined until the clock on the mantelpiece chirped to remind them of the hour. Emma pulled back and looked up, smiling softly at the happiness on Killian’s face, knowing it was reflected on her own. “Let’s get Henry and go home,” she said. 

“Home,” repeated Killian, almost in wonder. “Aye. Let’s do that.” 

---

They said nothing to Henry until they were back in Boston, but as soon as the bags were unpacked and they’d all had a snack and a toilet break they knew they couldn’t wait any longer. Henry was grumpy, tired after the excitement of the last few days and already missing Roland. He was sitting on the floor constructing a fortress out of Lego when Emma called to him. 

“Henry, come here, please. We need to talk to you.” 

“No.” 

“Henry! Come here right now.”

“I wanna plaaay,” whined Henry. 

“You can play later, now let’s talk.” Emma used her this-is-my-final-word voice, and hoped like hell he wouldn’t try to fight her. 

Henry stuck out his lower lip and dragged his feet as he walked over to where Emma and Killian were sitting on the sofa. 

“What?” he said. 

“Come sit here, lad,” Killian patted the cushion between himself and Emma. “And stop pouting, if you please.” Henry’s lip pulled back in almost of its own accord, and Emma hid a grin. Killian’s Captain voice was far more effective than her this-is-my-final-word one. That was going to come in handy. 

Henry sat on the sofa where Killian had indicated, and Emma’s hand of its own accord reached out to brush the hair off his forehead. Her sweet baby boy, she thought. He was going to be so thrilled. There was a small, selfish part of her that ached a bit at the idea of sharing him; even though Killian had helped her raise him almost from the beginning, she alone had been the legal guardian, the decision maker, and now she was relinquishing half of that guardianship to someone else. It was the right decision for all three of them and she was ecstatic about it, but also still a tiny bit sad. 

“Henry,” Killian began, “Your mum and I have been talking and we have something we’d like to ask you.” 

Henry seemed finally to pick up on the excitement underneath Emma and Killian’s solemn faces. “What is it?” he asked, brightening. 

“How would you feel,” Killian cleared his throat, “Ahem, how would you feel about me adopting you?”

Henry frowned. “What’s ‘dopting me?”

“A-dopting you. It means that I would, well, effectively I’d become your father.” 

Henry’s eyes widened and he began to tremble with excitement. 

“You’d be my dad?” he shouted.

“Aye, I wou— ugh!” Killian’s breath whooshed out as Henry launched himself into his solar plexus. 

“That’s what I want more than anything,” cried Henry, his small arms squeezing Killian tightly. “But I asked and you and Mom both said no!” 

“Aye, well, we’ve changed our minds.” Killian hugged Henry back. “If you agree, then we—”

“I agree! Agree agree agreeeeee—”

Killian’s face was lit with delight. “All right, lad, we get the idea—”

“Can I call you Dad right away? Can I do it now?”

“I’d like that very much,” said Killian in a choked voice. 

“If you’re my dad do we have the same name?”

“Well—” Killian shot a pleading look at Emma, but she just shrugged. “He’s your kid,” she mouthed with a smirk that softened as awe broke across his face. 

“My kid…” he whispered. 

Henry, oblivious to the exchange between the adults, had already moved on to other topics. “How long does ‘doption take?” he asked, settling into Killian’s lap and wriggling until he was comfortable. “Does this mean you won’t go back to your ship?”  

“Er, it can take some time I think and no, I still have to go back, it’s my job. But maybe one day you and your mum can come with me and see the ship. Would you like that?”

“YEAH!!”

“I’m going to go make dinner,” Emma mouthed to Killian over the top of Henry’s head. Her son was obviously full of questions and she thought she’d leave him and his dad alone to discuss the details of their new relationship. 

Henry and his dad. She couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up at the thought of it. Maybe she’d take a minute in the bathroom before starting dinner, she thought. 

---

Henry could barely sit still during dinner or stop talking long enough to actually eat, but together Emma and Killian managed to coax enough food down him to see him adequately nourished. After dinner he insisted on taking out his globe and asking Killian to tell him stories about all the places on it. After that he insisted on Killian supervising his bath and bedtime, at which point he insisted on another story —or three— to help him fall asleep. By the time he was finally down and Killian returned to the living room and collapsed on the couch, Emma had cleaned the entire kitchen, run the dishwasher, and picked up most of Henry’s toys. 

“Bloody hell, love, I don’t know how you manage this on your own,” Killian said, massaging his temples. 

“Welcome to parenthood,” said Emma. 

“Aye, it’s actually starting to feel real.” He sat up to make room for her on the sofa, wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she snuggled next to him. “We should probably talk about how things will change after the adoption, love, and with us… now. What’s going to happen with us.” 

“Yeah, we probably should,” said Emma. “Later. Right now I want to make out with you here on this sofa, because I’ve decided we are going to do all the things I’ve ever imagined us doing together, which is a long list so we need to get started on it right away, and after the making out I am definitely going to want you to carry me to my bedroom and do many unspeakable things to me.” 

He pulled her up until she was straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. “Hmmm, well if you insist,” he murmured, kissing her neck as his hand tangled in her hair.  

“I definitely do.” 

---

Killian woke early, of course. He always did, even when sleeping late was an option. His body was simply too conditioned to life in the Navy to do otherwise. Although when Killian was off duty he liked to take the opportunity to shake off the military a bit, let his hair get a bit messy and be comfortable in the old band t-shirts he’d worn at university, there were some things that were just ingrained.

One of the things he appreciated most about Boston and specifically Emma’s house was how far removed it was from his naval life. He loved that life, loved the navy, but being a Royal Navy officer carried a great deal of responsibility. While Killian was more than capable of shouldering that responsibility he was not ashamed to admit that the constant strain of it took a great deal out of him and during his leave he was grateful to be as far removed from it as possible, to relax and recharge and let loose the parts of himself that he had to keep tightly reined in when on duty. 

Yet he still couldn’t shake the early rising. 

Opting this time to allow Emma to sleep —she didn’t have to go back to work until the next day, and she could use her rest after the night they’d had— he eased out of her bed, pressing a kiss to her temple before he went, and pulled on sweatpants and an ancient t-shirt before silently slipping from the room. Perhaps he’d make them some breakfast, he thought. There was sure to be pancake mix in Emma’s cupboard and they’d picked up milk and eggs at the store before coming home the day before. 

He had just put on a pot of coffee and was beginning to assemble the pancake ingredients when Henry —also an early riser— appeared in the kitchen door. 

“Morning, Dad!” he cried, running to give Killian a hug. 

Killian smiled as he returned his son’s hug and his heart tripped in his chest, and he wondered how long it would be until the sound of Henry calling him “Dad” stopped making him feel so gooey inside. He hoped it would take years. He didn’t ever want to take the gift of Henry or Emma for granted. 

“Morning, lad. Keep your voice down, your mum’s still asleep.” He poured orange juice into a small plastic cup and held it out to Henry, who downed it in huge, glugging gulps. “How about pancakes for breakfast?” he asked, when the juice was gone. 

“Okay! Can I watch TV until they’re ready?”

“Yes, but not too loud, remember your mum.” 

Henry raced into the living room and Killian listened at the kitchen door until he ascertained that the television volume was not at a level that would disturb Emma, then went to mix the pancakes, humming to himself as he did. 

He had just poured the first batch when the doorbell buzzed, startling him. Who on earth would be at the door at eight am on a random Tuesday? He debated waking Emma, but then the doorbell buzzed again and he reasoned that if she hadn’t woken on her own by now she was probably sleeping deeply enough that rousing her sufficiently to deal with a visitor would likely take some time. Switching off the burner just to be safe, he went to the door, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel and tossing it over his shoulder before turning the knob. 

The door opened to reveal a man standing on the doorstep with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched in a defensive manner that gave the impression of being habitual. He was a few inches shorter than Killian but appeared to be around the same age, though the weary lines on his face and the grey at his temples spoke of a life that had been lived hard. The man looked up when the door opened, his lips curling in an ingratiating smile. At the sight of Killian the smile shifted abruptly into a scowl and his eyes narrowed sharply before raking over the taller man, lingering slightly on his ratty t-shirt and mussed hair, on his bare feet and the towel over his shoulder. 

“Who the hell are you?” he said.

Killian did not appreciate his words or his tone. “You’re the one at my door, mate,” he retorted. “Who the hell are you?”

“This isn’t your door,” said the man. “Emma Swan owns this house, I checked.” 

Something that felt uncomfortably like fear began to curl in Killian’s chest. He had met all of Emma’s friends and most of her colleagues, but he was certain he had never laid eyes on this man before. “What’s your business with Emma?” he asked.

The man straightened his shoulders and glared defiance at Killian. “I want to talk to her,” he said. “About my son.” 

Killian’s fear was twined around his heart now, squeezing mercilessly as the world began to spin around him and he grasped the doorframe for support. “Your son?” he croaked. 

The man nodded smugly. “Oh yeah. My name’s Neal Cassidy, I’m her kid’s dad.” 

Notes: Yes OF COURSE there’s a massive cliffhanger at the end of the super-short chapter that took me six months to write. Were you expecting anything else? 

[justsomenarutobs]

SFW and NSFW headcanons for Deidara? Omg iim in love with your writing!

Deidara Domestic Headcanons (Sfw With A Lemony Twist)

YES THIS SASSY BOY IS BEING ADD TO MY MASTERLIST! This is the first thing I wrote as I’m getting back into my mojo so I hope I did him justice! Also thank you for the kind words my love, Enjoy-N💛

Masterlist

SFW

Fast to fall in love yet slow to realize is the tagline of Deidara’s love life as he doesn’t even have a type and is conflicted about having a relationship in general, honestly he’s like an actual preteen when it comes to the thought process of relationships. It’s actually quite easy to catch his eye which is another nuisance when it comes to his love life yet catching his eye is one thing being able to keep his eye is another thing in itself. Disregarding his quickness to fall his true personality that tends to stay buried a bit is why Deidara DOES trust his partner but at the same time will treat the beginning of the relationship as a test trial just to see if they truly are staying for the long haul

One thing that intrigues him is someone who’s more on the mature side while yes he can often be a bit childish having a partner who’s also childish or petty won’t have a good conclusion since it’s just going to lead to his annoyance but with a matureish partner they could take his occasional childish actions/moods and nip them in the bud since Deidara hates the feeling of being the unreasonable one in situations

Now in an actual relationship Deidara starts off with barely any boundaries for himself, he wants to experience everything that supposedly makes relationships magical and in all probability this is because this would be his first serious relationship considering he joined the Akatsuki at 12 or 13, he wouldn’t have the ability to explore relationships. Similar to most teenagers he wants to get the ball rolling fast so he’s comfortable with touching pretty fast (holding hands or even sleeping in the same bed) although he might get a bit flustered with more meaningful acts of affection like cuddling or even just kisses on the cheek

He loves showing off his work to his s/o (slightly in share for praise but you didn’t hear it from me) and usually does it in over the top ways such as making multiple clay flowers to be drop from the air then detonating them right before they hit the roof the two are laying on as an added flair of excitement and so they can watch the sparks almost like fireworks, it's nights like that when his s/o is smiling and giggling towards the sky he’ll accidentally just spill some deep dark secrets about his childhood (like how the hell he got those mouth hands o.o)

NSFW

Shockingly passionate but more in a rowdy way such as placing kisses everywhere skin is peeking from, nipping at the collarbones or ears and occasionally just trailing his tongue down their sternum, trying to pick up their personal taste. Deidara tends to linger on foreplay for a while not for a particular reason just a little bedroom quirk of his along with the fact that he prefers to keep his hair completely tied up with nothing in his face meaning even his ponytail is unacceptable when it comes to sex

Deidara is an amateur but does everything in his power to conceal such a fact as he already feels a weird push to prove himself since he’s young(even if his partner is the same age or younger than him) because of that push Deidara tends to be more on the dominant side while also attempting to keep an authoritative tone but thankfully this fizzles out the more him and his partner bump uglies since he gets more comfortable

Speaking of getting comfortable the more secure Deidara is in him self the more likely he is to reveal some of his turn on’s:

Nipples-He has a strong thing for bigger areolas especially if they are darker in color but either way he will literally suck on his partners nipples like he’s trying to breastfeed

Bright colored panties- No way around this one Deidara just enjoys the surprise of bright pinks,greens,reds etc and he’s honestly all about the color not really noticing the type of panties they are although bright g-strings will definitely get him excited just like most teenage boys

Long hair- Don’t @ me but long shiny hair, especially when braided,IS.HIS.FAVORITE.LOOK(as he considers then his type of art since the beauty of the braids is not everlasting) The moment he sees them sporting nothing but a towel and either their braid or just natural damp hair is when the tight smirk fixes on his face indicating they’re in for a long night

For someone who would losing is virginity in this relationship this man definitely has a plethora of favorite sex positions however the top 3 are:

Doggie- It’s fast pace with plenty more of skin open for hickeys,bites and kisses plus he doesn’t have to worry about his facial expressions when their head is in the pillow

Eyes to the sky- (basically reverse cowgirl but the rider lays back so the two are touching as the rider grinds for their pleasure) Adores the extra skin contact and again the hiding of his face plus in this position he gets to relax sorta since he doesn’t have to do much work and in this position he won’t be able to go deep so he’ll last longer for one of the more involved positions

The V- Watching himself enter then exit repeatedly into his partner is what makes this one of his favorite positions along with the fact he has full sight of their chest so he can fondled them to his content likes to see their flexibility aswell

Overall Deidara tends to almost have a competition with himself about how he can go deeper,faster etc so by time they both cum he’s way too exhausted to participate in aftercare going to the extent of completely separating himself from his s/o to rest although about half way through his slumber he’ll reach out to cuddle his s/o

[ambitionsource]

AMBITION Season 1 ♫ “These Boots Aren’t Made For Dancing” [ 1.08 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (quincywillows)

CULTURE SWAP – As part of the truce, the performers and techies walk a mile in the others’ shoes – almost literally. Some students are more equipped for the change than others. A technician performance at the end of the week promises plenty of surprises.

50 Minutes (10K words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Black, The Color of Techies Scorned ] [ S1 Synopsis ] [ The Miserables → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Better When I’m Dancin’” as performed by Meghan Trainor || Performed by Zay Babineaux (feat. AAA Sophomores)

The new world order is in full swing at AAA – and the students are just beginning to figure out what exactly that means. To launch into the change, ZAY BABINEAUX leads the full class in a loose and upbeat rendition of the light-hearted bop.

Yes, that is the full class. Not only are the performers jamming together, but the techies are getting pulled into the dance and each getting their moment to show off their moves. Zay has a little duet with each of them (except Lucas, naturally), including a true standout moment with JEFF MONROE who actually seems to have a semblance of rhythm in his body.

JADE BEAMON allows Zay to twirl her, before scrambling bashfully back to her desk. DYLAN ORLANDO trips over his feet trying a step Zay attempts to teach him and ASHER GARCIA. DAVE WILLIAMS knocks over a desk and sends NICK YOGI and NIGEL CHEY into hysterics. The dancing isn’t good, but gosh if it isn’t charming as heck!

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The parade progresses into the auditorium, much like the last time Zay dragged them all into a dance. Everyone is twirling around and shuffling together, laughing and taking the challenge in stride. It’s a message of encouragement, both to the techies doing something they’re not great at and to Zay’s fellow performers, who are stressed as hell about what this episode might entail for them. It’s cute! It’s endearing!

But why is it necessary?

SHAWN HUNTER and ANGELA MOORE explain it to us, as the class settles into their seats in the front of the auditorium. They stand together on the stage, addressing the class and explaining what the assignment is going to be for the week.

Angela: Considering both sides of the class have now come to a truce –

Charlie, fondly: This school is bananas.

Angela: We want to keep that collaborative spirit and sense of exploration going as we try to navigate how to work together moving forward. This necessitates a better understanding of one another.

Shawn: An exchange of ideas, if you would.

So, to follow this trend and foster a better understanding of one another, they will be swapping sides for the week. Yes, the performers will be working through each of the roles a technician typically puts into a production. Meanwhile, the techies will be preparing their own number, which they will perform at the conclusion of the assignment. Then, all the elements will come together for the full production experience. It’s a culture swap, baby!

Although there are students clearly not enthusiastic about this development – if LUCAS FRIAR’s disdainful expression or FARKLE MINKUS’ nervous twitching are any indication – but there’s also tentative excitement in the air. This could be fun.

Cue opening titles.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

The performers are discussing these new changes at lunch, and already the subtle changes in dynamic are already on display. Rather than all sitting in different corners of the room, Farkle, MAYA HART, Zay, and CHARLIE GARDNER are enjoying their lunch together at the same table. Nigel and YINDRA AMINO are also with them.

The reviews about the announcement of this week’s assignment are, decidedly, mixed.

Maya: This is insanity. Absolute anarchy.

Farkle: Look, everyone wanted me to lay down my arms and come to the negotiating table, so I did. This is what happened. I’m not taking any blame, thank you very much.

Charlie: Oh, come on. Maybe it’ll be good for you all to… learn something.

Maya: I’m sorry, when did we promote you to speaking level?

Zay gives Charlie a playful nudge. He almost chokes on his food.

Even more surprising is the arrival of Lucas to their table, floating over and carrying a stack of paper. His mere presence anywhere near the performer tables is unprecedented, so guess that’s the new world order talking. He greets them all stiffly before handing out the papers, a flyer explaining all of the tasks they will be learning over the course of the week.

Zay: Oh, and you’re gonna perform, right?

Maya, mockingly: Ooh, hear that? Huckleberry is gonna perform!

Farkle: You mean embarrass yourself. You’re going to embarrass yourself.

[ Lucas laughs along, taking the moment in stride. In some ways, this is scarier than if he showed anger. ]

Lucas: I’d be careful if I were you, Minkus. To progress through each station, you have to get approval from a senior technician to confirm that your work is of a satisfactory quality. Do you have any guesses who that senior technician might be?

[ Farkle has stopped laughing, mouth hanging open slightly. Charlie speaks for him. ]

Charlie: Is it… you?

Lucas: (: See you all in lab!

At the other end of the cafeteria, RILEY MATTHEWS is seated at the indoor techie table. She is eagerly discussing the assignment with ISADORA DE LA CRUZ, rambling on about how amazing it is that they’ll finally get to perform and already imagining what the number might be like. She can’t wait for the entire class to see how talented Isadora is.

Her rant is interrupted when Lucas rejoins them, sliding into the seat next to Riley and bumping her shoulder in the process. She clears her throat, getting distracted by how close he’s sitting. It’s hard to forget she now knows very well that he and Isadora are nothing more than platonic…

Isadora has no such distractions. She glances over her shoulder at how shaken the performers seem before looking back at the mischievous expression on his face, giving him a look.

Isadora: What did you do to them? Lucas, don’t –

Lucas: What? What, I did nothing! Nothing. I was just… preparing them. (:

Isadora rolls her eyes, already prepping a retort as Lucas smirks to himself. Riley glances at him, unable to hold back a smile. When he locks eyes with her, she bashfully looks down at her food.

Isadora: Don’t cause any more trouble, please. We finally have a school-wide truce, and I wouldn’t mind it if that could stick for a while.

Riley: It does seem like a long time coming.

Isadora: I just want everything to be normal now. That’s it. No changes, no drama, just… normalcy.

At Adams? That’s an impossibility. As if on cue, Yogi runs in, raving about whether or not everyone has “seen it” yet. Their table exchanges exhausted looks, assuming he’s referring to the AAA Confessions page and telling him they don’t wanna hear it. But that’s not what Yogi is talking about.

He slaps down his phone on the tabletop, the assembled brigade of techies leaning over to take a look at it. It’s open to an article from a tabloid, the focus being Isadora and her famous connection to Valerie De La Cruz. She’s officially low-hanging publication fodder. Lucas, Riley, and Isadora look up at the same time, exchanging matching looks of shock with varied degrees of indignation.

So much for normalcy.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Shawn and Angela are together in the theater classroom, enjoying their lunch as a pair. Shawn is seated in the desk chair, looking up at Angela sitting with her legs crossed on the desktop. It’s her desk, after all, so who is gonna tell her not to sit on it?

They’re flipping through the tabloid themselves, getting a sense of what storm might be brewing next. It never ends at the Academy for the Arts, it seems. Angela also drops the news during the conversation that she is eyeing a few auditions in the coming weeks, and she thinks she’s going to go out for them. She’s been putting them off because she wants to be present for as much of the musical casting process as possible – which is coming around the bend in a week or so – but she’s got a few auditions slated for Thursday and Friday. She wants to start trying to get some actual roles and pursue her dream again, crazy as it still seems.

Shawn is obviously a bit uncertain about this development. He makes a cheeky comment about how telling it is that he just got her back and off she goes again with this dream thing, but he’s mostly kidding. She tosses a playful statement back his way, kicking at him lightly with her heel.

He reaches up and pulls her off the desk, pulling her onto his lap instead as she bursts into laughter. They exchange a kiss, obviously in a better place to have this conversation than they were in their early twenties. Hopefully that mojo persists…

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

The chaos unfolds in Eric’s office, where Riley and Lucas marched Isadora as soon as they saw the article. ERIC MATTHEWS listens calmly while they rail on how ridiculous this all is, not to mention an invasion of privacy. Isadora is also quiet in the chair across the desk, not offering much to say herself.

JACK HUNTER is also present, equally as up and arms about the whole thing. Rather than playing his usual role of diffuser, he feeds off of Riley and Lucas’s frustration, the three of them just riling each other up and backing one another up. It takes Eric a hot minute to get them all to shut up, finally allowing Isadora the floor to speak.

When she does, however, she doesn’t say what any of them were expecting. She states she basically wants to ignore it. Yes, it’s stressful, and yes, it’s freaking her out, but she’s sick of reacting to it already. She just wants to pretend it’s not happening.

Lucas: Dora, are you serious?

Isadora: It’s not like I can make it go away, can I? But it’s just words on paper. It can’t do anything to me. And who actually reads that thing anyway?

Lucas: Yeah, but –

Jack: Are you sure that –

Isadora: I just want to pretend it’s not there, and focus on the assignment. Is that too much to ask?

No, it’s not, really. Lucas and Riley exchange a look, before looking to Jack. He steps forward, assuring Isadora that he will do whatever he can to get to the bottom of this. They’re going to figure out who leaked this information, and they’ll put a stop to it. Isadora is skeptical.

Isadora: Oh, yeah? You can’t even figure out who is running an anonymous Instagram account for a high school of 200 students. You’re really going to deduce the source of a nationally printed tabloid? [ off Jack’s flustered response ] Sure. Give it a try. Otherwise, I really just want to go back to the usual routine.

If that’s what she wants, there’s not much more they can do. Eric assures her that she can come to him at any time, which she already knows. She gets to her feet, leading the way out. As they’re leaving, Jack has one more comment to make towards Lucas.

Jack: You know, I think this is the first time you’ve left one of our offices without saying something inappropriate or knocking something over.

Lucas: [ with a cheeky grin ] Revolution is beautiful, isn’t it?

Eric: Yes, my yet-to-be-broken mugs and I are very happy with this new world order.

After Jack exits as well, Zay pokes his head in. Eric lights up when he sees him, responding in affirmation to Zay’s statement that he asked to see him and eagerly gesturing for him to take a seat. He explains they’re just waiting for one more person, just as Charlie appears in the doorway.

Eric happily greets him, inviting him in to join them. Charlie spots Zay and has a split second of hesitation and what could be described as panic, but he breezes past it and pulls himself back together in a blink. Could’ve just been a trick of the light. But the moment he’s seated, he immediately asks what Eric could’ve called both them in for specifically.

As he explains it, he pulled the two of them in because they’re some of the most universally liked students in the class. They have a reputation for good attitudes and keeping things positive, and given the challenge present this week for many of their classmates, he was hoping that they could work together to actively make sure things stay light and people are feeling good.

There’s a bit of a question of like… isn’t that Eric’s job, but Zay and Charlie exchange a look before agreeing that they’ll do it. Eric is thrilled.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

As Zay and Charlie step into the hall, they both agree that they have no idea what exactly they’re supposed to be doing. But hey, Charlie says, they’ll try their best. Together, as Zay reminds him. He pats him on the shoulder, and Charlie glances at his hand before breaking into a grin.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

And together, Angela reiterates in class, is how they’re all going to manage this week. It’s going to take collaboration from both sides to get to the end of the assignment successfully. And Shawn agrees. Thus, let’s kick off this exchange of swapping sides…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Strangers Like Me” as performed by Phil Collins || Performed by AAA Sophomores

A montage carries us through the start of this immersion project, chronicling all the ways that they’re beginning to step into one another’s shoes.

The techies attempt to teach confused performers the basic ropes of their usual jobs. Jade leads them through a costuming seminar, Yogi inevitably sticking himself with multiple pins. Nate painstakingly shows Haley, Clarissa, and Darby how to construct a set piece, but they can barely carry the wood by themselves. Isadora runs them through basic stage mechanics, almost knocking Farkle off the stage on accident.

On the lyrics “Every gesture, every move that she makes makes me feel like never before,” the focus is on Charlie and Zay. The latter is helping Isadora and Asher with a bout of choreography, and as Charlie watches it’s evident that he’s clearly… struggling with something. He keeps wiping his palms on his jeans, and swallowing hard like he’s dying of thirst. Maybe he is! It’s a relief when Dylan pulls him away again for more help.

When it comes to “Why do I have this growing need to be beside her,” the moment belongs to Riley and Lucas. He and Dave are teaching her and a group of performers about crewing and moving set pieces during a scene, proper protocol for moving in the dark and where to hold the pieces. Riley evidently says something silly that makes the group of them laugh together. Lucas catches himself smiling at her like an idiot, and then is like. Wait a minute. What am I doing.

Riley, of course, doesn’t notice a thing.

On the flip side, performers are also attempting to give tips to the techies – teaching them dance moves, helping them stand taller with more stage presence, etc. Charlie spends a chunk of time with Dave, Dylan, and Nate, maintaining a positive attitude while showing all of them and their left feet basic dance steps. Maya examines each of them and adjusts their posture. When she gets to Lucas and he just glares at her, she just skips over him. Smart move, miss Hart.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

When the bridge arrives and we’re at the slower reprieve (“Come with me now to see my world…”), Lucas brings Riley into the technician’s booth for the first time. She follows him up the steps and then hesitantly into the space, knowing full well how sacred it is. She glances at Lucas for a sense of permission before stepping up to the lighting board and main window, getting a taste of the view.

She’s totally entranced by the view of the stage, but Lucas isn’t looking at that. He can’t stop looking at her.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The rest of the montage progresses with an epic feeling, showing the opposing sides beginning to get the swing of their new stations. Dave does some terrible dance moves, but with confidence! Zay manages to build part of a set piece without killing anyone. The only downbeat is Farkle, who is clearly struggling with every task put in front of him. Poor, poor, little diva…

Angela and Shawn watch all this unfold, exchanging smirks before lightly high-fiving one another. So far, so good.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Riley is still in the booth with Lucas, getting her lesson in lighting from him. He’s showing her how to operate the board, sort of mumbling through it as he’s not the instructor Jeff or Isadora would be. But Riley is being a good student, listening very attentively and asking plenty of follow up questions.

When it’s her turn to set up the correct lighting design, she’s cautious as she places her fingers on the board. Partially because it’s an expensive board and she doesn’t want to like, break it, but also because she doesn’t know what she’s doing and doesn’t want to mess up. Lucas senses her hesitation, leaning closer and helping guide her hands to the right sliders.

Yes, it’s that kind of classic maneuver. Lucas leaning over her shoulder, his hands lightly resting on top of hers. It’s difficult to tell whether the move is intentional on either of their parts, but the moment they realize how close they’re standing it’s clear they weren’t prepared for it.

Riley catches her breath, tilting her head to look at him. She speaks softly, telling him that she thinks she understands why he likes being up here so much. The way it’s sort of removed, has this sense of quiet isolation… but how you can still see everything. The whole world is within your reach, even if you’re safely on the other side.

Riley: There’s something… I don’t know, beautiful, about that. Isn’t there?

Lucas: [ gazing at her, swallowing ] Yeah…

The moment is interrupted when Isadora storms in, wondering if either of them are going to do the hell job they’re in charge of and change the lighting? The two of them jump away from one another in seconds, shaking off the tension.

Isadora pushes past Riley, fixing the board herself. She claims they’ve been shouting up at them for like three minutes, what the hell were they doing up here, playing cards? Lucas can’t even look at them, turned away in the other direction.

Guess Riley’s turn in the lighting booth is over. Whoopsie!

INT. AAA - PROP LOFT - DAY

Farkle and Maya are in the prop loft, receiving instructions from Asher about the best way to handle each item. He’s going to detail about the elaborate organizational method he has set up for the place, and how it took his entire freshman year to implement it. He emphasizes how each prop is like a child that must be well cared for, handled delicately and with patience… just as Farkle accidentally knocks over one of the tables and sends a bunch of items scattering all over the floor. Asher lets out half a shriek as Maya scrambles out of the way of the wreckage, Farkle sputtering out an apology.

Asher looks like he might pass out, but he assures him it’s fine. He heads out to get a dustpan in case anything was broken, although the possibility seems to kill him as he speaks it. Maya and Farkle bend down to start gathering the fallen. She jokingly claiming that he’s a natural prop master, but Farkle doesn’t really find it funny. It’s obvious he’s in a mood, so she decides to zip it for now. They continue to clean up in silence.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are assembled on the stage, grouped together to discuss their assignment. Much like their brainstorm in 1.02, they’ve got the rolling whiteboard out and Dylan and Asher are alternating taking notes. Most of the suggestions written so far are nonsensical or silly, demonstrating just how seriously they’re taking this potential performance.

Isadora has a surprising amount of ideas, throwing them out there passionately. Nate points out that it seems she’s been bitten by the performer bug, but she simply states it’s the auteur in her and she doesn’t want them all to embarrass themselves so it may as well be good.

Lucas, conversely, is the grumpiest about the whole thing. He claims they should just not do it. There’s no way they can force them to perform. It’s against their rights – those ones they just fought tooth and nail for. Dylan and Asher exchange a hesitant look, while Jade states that maybe they should just try and approach it optimistically.

Lucas: I would rather cut my feet off with a rusty hacksaw than do this.

Dave: Well, that would hurt. :(

It’s clear this brainstorm isn’t going anywhere productive, especially with Lucas in his current mood. The group disbands, sauntering out until it’s only Isadora remaining. She hangs back and keeps working on the whiteboard, scribbling a couple more ideas. She even starts to storyboard a sequence, muttering some potential lyrics under her breath.

It’s clear – she’s enthused about this performance. Now there’s a cinematic twist…

INT. SHAWN’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Shawn and Angela are eating dinner together on Shawn’s cushy couch, discussing how they think the assignment is going. The conversation quickly devolves into kissing, the two of them back in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, until a knock at the door yanks them out of it. Angela asks if he’s expecting anybody, which of course he isn’t, but he gets up to investigate.

When he pulls open the door, Jack is standing there. He’s out of breath, having ran all the way from the nearest subway station. Well, not the nearest, in his haste he jumped off a stop too early, but case in point he made it. Shawn is like great… and why are you here?

Jack invites himself in, settling down next to Angela on the couch after greeting her offhandedly. Angela is a bit embarrassed to be seen in such a situation by her boss, but when she exchanges a look with Shawn he just shrugs.

Jack doesn’t seem at all fazed by it, pulling out his laptop with urgency. He explains that he’s gotten a lead on the tabloid debacle, after spending the past couple of days doing some deep diving and investigating.

Jack: It took some research, and some conferring with online sources, not to mention a lengthy thread of rather persuasive emails –

Shawn: God, you need a hobby. Or a hook-up.

All this aside, Jack was able to retrieve the IP address of the source the tabloid used for the story. He turns his computer to show Angela, Shawn leaning over to take a look as well. She recognizes it first.

Angela: [ with a gasp ] Is that – ?

Jack: The IP address for Adams. Yes, yes it is. [ With gusto ] The source came from inside our school.

So there it is. Someone at AAA is leaking things about Isadora, and now they’re going to get to the bottom of it.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

Maya is getting ready for school, KATY HART finishing up dressing in her waitress uniform for work. Bag gathered, she takes a moment to admire her mother, who questions why she’s looking at her with that goofy expression.

Maya makes a point of saying how much respect she has for her, considering she’s been working a fraction as hard as she does for the past couple of days and absolutely hates it.

Maya: I’ve been doing manual labor and things for other people eight hours a day for two days, and I wanna die. You, you do it all the time and don’t even bat an eye. I don’t think I appreciate that enough. I love you.

Katy smiles, wandering over and giving her a kiss on the head. She claims it’s entirely worth it, especially getting to see her follow her dreams. If that means making coffee and serving pie to greasy New Yorkers, then so be it. Oh, and the occasional well-groomed arts student.

Maya accepts the playful jab, claiming that since she’s been getting a taste of her life, Katy deserves a slice of hers. She prompts her mom to pick a song, whatever comes on the radio at work a lot of that she finds herself humming a lot. Katy is hesitant at first, but then she tells Maya to hand her her cell from the coffee table.

The moment she hands it over, Katy already knows exactly what song to play.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “9 to 5” as performed by Dolly Parton|| Performed by Maya Hart & Katy Hart (feat. AAA Sophomores)

The moment the jaunty piano rings through the apartment, Maya already knows the vibe. Katy is like you think you can keep up? And Maya is like it’s not even a question.

Katy takes lead on the first verse. When she sings “pour myself a cup of ambition,” Maya lets out a laugh. And yeah, it’s because it’s a nod to the title of the show. Cue credits!

The mother-daughter duo dance around together for the first chorus, and it is absolutely charming. We can see where Maya gets her love of performing from, even if Katy never got to see that dream realized. But for a moment in that morning, she gets a taste of it.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Maya takes the energy and sentiment back to school with her, leading the rest of the performers along with it as they complete their techie tasks. It’s another number that allows us to feature smaller moments with performers we don’t spend much screen time with, such as CLARISSA CRUZ and HALEY FISHER.

All in all, an endearing fun time through and through. Make the dull work flashy, Maya!

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Riley is attempting to tackle set construction again. Dave is trying his best to help her, but she’s not quite getting it. She’s too delicate with the tools, and you have to be a little forceful with them if you want them to get the message. Lucas walks over to check in and Dave explains the situation.

He steps up to help, coming up close to Riley again and showing her how to properly use the staple gun. It’s another classic maneuver in the vein showing someone how to bowl or golf only… staple gun, and once again necessitates more physical contact than either of them have ventured before. He explains that she has to give it a little more pressure, successfully planting a staple while pressing down his hand over hers.

Dave applauds the success, but Riley isn’t even aware of it. She is totally struck, just staring at Lucas over her shoulder and trying to figure out how to use words again.

Isadora stomps over, proclaiming that this job should not be taking so long. She essentially pushes them to the side, taking the staple gun like ugh, just let me do it! She does the full swath in like fifteen seconds, tossing the tool back at Dave. Riley backs off apologetically, claiming it wasn’t Dave’s fault and she’s just slow on the uptake.

Isadora nods her along, before turning her glare to Lucas. Her expression clearly conveys disdain, like, hello? You’re slipping? Please pull it together in the one week we need to be on top of things? Yes, Isa, he is indeed slipping…

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Another bulletin has been released about Isadora, discussing how she might be following in Valerie’s star-studded footsteps considering she is opting to perform in class that week. Eric and Jack are both hunched over the tabloid article, deducing that culprit likely isn’t in the sophomore class. All of them know the expectations of the lesson this week and are aware this performance isn’t anything more than a requirement.

HARLEY KEINER shows up, asking if Jack still needs access to the databases. Jack responds emphatically, allowing him to do whatever he needs to his laptop. When Eric questions what is going on, Jack explains that Harley is giving him access to the school online usage database so they can see who has been using the library computers which route to that specific IP address.

Eric: I didn’t realize you tangled with the technical, Harley.

Harley: I, janitor Harley Keiner, am a man of many interests. I am not simply limited to the sanitorial arts.

Well, no arguing with that. The three of them crowd around the computer, watching as Harley enters the database. Hopefully, taking them one step closer to finding their leak.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The class has come back together for specified costuming time, a duo of performers each assigned to design the costumes for a technician.

Zay and Riley have been assigned to work with Lucas, who absolutely refuses to talk about the assignment itself. Zay is fishing for details about what their number might be considering they need it to, well, design costumes, but Lucas doesn’t even want to talk about it.

However, all hope is not lost considering they are at least getting measurements. Yes, it is worth noting that Lucas is perfectly fine letting Riley touch him all over to get statistics with her measuring tape – across the shoulders, around the torso, obediently following her soft-spoken directives and doing whatever she needs. Zay is lowkey raising his eyebrows at this, but Riley isn’t saying a word about it because she does not want to jinx herself. Clever girl.

When Zay tries to step forward to help, Lucas reverts back to his Shawn-dubbed “feral cat” state and hisses at him but, you know, in brooding human form. Zay backs off with his hands raised in surrender, more than happy to let Riley do all the work if it’ll keep him from getting rabies.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Farkle and Maya are working on Isadora, getting much more about the performance out of her than Lucas. Maya is doing the measurements for her, approaching all of the close contact delicately and waiting for cues from Isadora to proceed considering she knows how uncomfortable this might be for her. Behind them, Farkle attempts to piece together scraps of a costume with the sewing machine. Maya asks if the techies are excited about the number, or if they’re all dreading it as much as Lucas clearly is.

Isadora: Is he that obvious?

Farkle: It’s like he’s sweating mediocrity.

Maya: Us performers can smell fear. Especially his; it’s rare.

Farkle also comments that the pressure of the tabloid can’t be helping Isadora’s nerves. Maya shoots him a look to shut up, but Isadora claims it really isn’t bothering her that much. She’s hardly keeping up with it considering how much work she has to put into this week. But so far, she’s kind of enjoying it.

Maya seizes this excitement, stating that Isadora should totally audition for the musical next week. They could certainly use the additional female star power, and what does she have to lose if she actually enjoys it? Isadora seems reluctant, but the more Maya goes on about it the more it seems she may be warming up to it.

Farkle interrupts the train of thought, sticking himself with a pin for the fourteenth time and letting out a resounding “FUCK!”

Maya: It’s costuming, Farkle, not brain surgery.

Farkle: Brain surgery would hurt less.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

At lunch that afternoon, the techies are deep into discussing their performance, Isadora leading the charge. They’re running out of time, after all, so they need to get it together.

Lucas is zoned out, his mind elsewhere. Isadora calls him out, snapping him back to reality and expressing disdain that he isn’t paying any attention.

Isadora: God, where is your brain this week?

He doesn’t know, Isa, he doesn’t know! Riley took it and she won’t give it back! He snaps instead, getting defensive about how they shouldn’t be concerned about him considering he doesn’t even want to do it anyway. If Isadora is having such a good time with the whole thing, what does she need him for?

Isadora holds his glare, before pointedly continuing the discussion about the choreography. Lucas rolls his eyes, stabbing at his food. Dylan and Asher share another tacit exchange.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Unfortunately for Farkle, he’s the next person who has to deal with Lucas. He’s still stuck on the costume construction assignment, and Lucas isn’t in a very forgiving mood.

Lucas: Look at that. [ Looking up from the mess of cloth. ] Still sucks!

He tells Farkle to try again, which he’s sick of hearing. Farkle jumps to his feet, throwing the costume down and claiming he’s not doing shit again. Lucas claims he will, that is if he wants to pass. The moment is tense between the two of them.

Farkle: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Must be so nice to finally wield control over the people who are so frustratingly more talented than you. Does that make you feel better? Less inadequate?

Lucas: I’m not the one who’s been stuck on the same assignment for three days because I can’t figure out how to work a little needle.

For a second, it really seems as though Farkle might pounce. Lucas raises his eyebrows, amused, but the moment is disrupted when Shawn pops in. He summons Lucas to his office, sensing the tension the second he steps in but deciding to just diffuse it rather than comment on it.

Farkle waits for them to leave, before kicking at the ruined costume again in frustration.

INT. AAA - SHAWN’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is seated across the desk from Shawn and Angela, who are confronting him on the basis that they’ve heard from his classmates that he isn’t taking the assignment seriously. He scoffs at this, defending himself and pointing out that he’s done nothing but patiently train the performers all week despite their glaring incompetence.

That’s not what they’re referring to, though, and Lucas knows it. Angela goes on to highlight the upcoming techie performance, citing specific things that Lucas has said or done over the course of the week that indicate his lack of compliance. All of the above have concerned his classmates, and made them worry about how their final assignment was going to turn out.

Lucas deflects and focuses on the very notion that his fellow technicians snitched on him, demanding to know who told them these things. Shawn states that he knows damn well they can’t divulge that information, and that shouldn’t be his takeaway from this conversation anyway. When they push him again on the assignment he gets defensive, claiming that they literally can’t force him to do this if he doesn’t want to.

Angela points out that he’s a student of this school and it’s part of the curriculum. So, actually, they absolutely can. Lucas storms out, knocking a stack of papers off the desk on his way out for good measure. Angela is totally shocked by this behavior, but Shawn seems totally unimpressed. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. He starts gathering the papers again, unbothered.

She laments that he absolutely shouldn’t tolerate that kind of outburst, but Shawn states it’s hardly different than when Farkle has a diva meltdown and stomps off. He comes further to Lucas’s defense, claiming he used to be the same way in high school. She should remember, shouldn’t she? Besides, he knows how it feels to be so reluctant to perform, certain you can’t do it. It’s difficult when everyone around you is so talented, and you know you’re not.

This parlays back into a discussion about Angela going off to try and get back into the business, only this time the focus is about what it would mean for the two of them. It’s evident that Shawn still has some leftover bitterness from being left behind the first go around. Angela assures him that it’s not going to change anything between them, as they’ve both grown and changed yet came back together anyway.

She also tells him that if he wants to become a better performer, then all he has to do is ask.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Over And Over Again” as performed by Nathan Sykes|| Performed by Angela Moore

Angela pulls Shawn into a slow dance with her, singing the romantic tune to convey that her devotion to him is indeed true. Although he’s a reluctant dance partner at first, he loosens up over the course of the song. Now that’s romance!

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Charlie has stepped in to help Farkle, as he’s clearly struggling the most out of all of the performers. Although he has as generous and soft an approach as ever, Farkle is basically foaming at the mouth at this point and is like I’ll kill you, saying some harsh and not very grateful statements to Charlie and what he can do with his plucky positive spin on things.

Zay steps to Charlie’s defense, pulling him away from Farkle and taking over. Only his lecture is far less encouraging and more of a wake up call.

Zay: Look, we’re here to be emotional support, not your personal punching bag. So first, you can apologize to Charlie, and then, you can stop being a royal bitch to everyone who just wants to help you.

Farkle, stunned: … sorry.

Zay: Needs improvement. But you can figure that out on your own.

Farkle is floored. Charlie is floored, watching the exchange with wide eyes. He doesn’t even react when Zay takes his arm and drags him from the room, leaving Farkle alone.

INT. AAA - COSTUME LOFT - DAY

Zay leads them to the costume loft, climbing up the ladder into isolation first while Charlie follows along in a daze. The costume loft is a rather confined hideaway in the realm of the auditorium, a place where students go to chat in private or… confer in other ways. Heaps of costumes make for suitable enough cushions, the rest of the eclectic assortment of clothing hanging from racks.

Zay continues to complain about Farkle’s behavior, flopping onto one of the piles. Charlie catches up to the last few minutes, coming back to reality and claiming that Zay didn’t have to do all that.

Zay: Of course I did. No one should talk to you that way. You let people talk to you like that all the time?

Charlie: I, uh… just never seemed like a big deal. Just trying to keep things polite.

Zay: There’s being polite, and there’s being a pushover. You’re way too good to let people step on you like that.

Charlie blinks, absorbing this sentiment. It’s unusual for someone to stand up for him so pointedly, and it clearly means a lot for him. Whatever he’s starting to feel here, it’s definitely deeper than he thought…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

In a quick cut montage, Lucas goes around to each of the techies and interrogates them about who snitched on him. It’s accomplished in a relatively comedic manner, especially for people like Dave who clearly have no idea what’s going on. By the time he gets through a majority of the crew, it begins to become clear exactly who the prime suspects are.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Asher and Dylan show up to the booth, asking if Lucas wanted to see them. He greets them cheerfully, gesturing them in and telling them to get comfortable. He asks if they want anything – snacks, a juice box, whatever – which Dylan definitely takes. Fun times with techie dad!

Or so they thought. Once he’s got them all cozy and secure, Lucas turns the tables on them and methodically questions them about whether or not they ratted him out. They start out resolute at first, adamant that they didn’t do anything, but as Lucas speaks more quickly and with more authority, clearly laying out the logic for how he figured out it was them, Asher cracks first.

Asher: Alright, okay! It was me, okay! We did it!

Dylan: Ash!

Asher: Oh, don’t look at me like that. He’s onto us! He knows! Look, you can see it on his beautiful, withholding face!

Lucas questions why they did it, but it doesn’t take much more to get them to spill all of it. Asher explains that they felt like he was holding back the group, and this week was going to be difficult enough as it is. Once Asher falls it’s not long until Dylan is confessing too, expressing that it took everything in them to turn him in, but they didn’t want the rest of the techies to bear the brunt of the decision. They really believed they were doing what was best for everyone involved.

Both of them apologize profusely, claiming they never intended for it to get back to him this way and they completely understand if he wants to pitch both of them off the catwalk.

Dylan: Just, please, let Asher wear a blindfold. He’s scared of heights. Me, you can just look me right in the eyes when you – [ Gestures a violent shove. ]

Surprisingly, however, Lucas is rather level-headed. He states he’s not mad, which both of them have trouble believing. He starts pacing, trying to figure out how to move forward with this revelation. Dylan rubs Asher’s shoulder reassuringly.

Lucas: … did you really do it because you’re concerned about me? You think I’m holding back the group?

Asher: Not you, specifically. Like, not you or your ability or anything like that.

Dylan: I actually happen to think with a little bit of practice, you could be quite the leading man.

Asher: [ hurriedly, off Lucas’s eyebrow raise ] We just know how much your opinion means to us, and we know it’s true for the rest of the crew. So when you keep shooting down the project, it’s like… it’s hard to get everyone in the right spirit.

Dylan: Yeah. If your attitude was a little more, like, receptive, the crew would totally go into the whole thing with more confidence. That’s all.

Lucas takes this in. It sure demonstrates the impact of his leadership, just like Riley said he had. He releases a sigh, before requesting that the next time they have an issue with him, they just come to him with it instead of going through a third party. They eagerly agree, apologizing again and promising him they will.

It’s evident that despite his demeanor, Lucas does care about his techie crew and the way they perceive him. He doesn’t care about much, sure, but the things he does? He’ll do anything for.

And boy, is he gonna have to do something…

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Farkle is tackling the costuming assignment for like the fifth time, well on his way to losing his mind in that claustrophobic black box. Jade is present now, doing her best to talk him through each step. He’s just totally frazzled and basically shutting down, and when Riley walks in to see how things around going Jade is more than happy to pass the responsibility of him to her. She makes a beeline out of there, Riley approaching and settling down across the table from Farkle.

Riley coaxes him into giving the assignment one more try, her calm demeanor and patience alone helpful in its own right. As they’re working through the costume piece by piece, she nudges him into expression why he thinks this assignment is so difficult for him. Farkle opens up a bit – it’s the Riley effect, after all – about how this situation just feels out of his control. Like there’s all these elements that he can’t control, and the less competent he is the more that feeling escalates. It’s a vicious cycle.

Riley empathizes, considering what’s going on with her parents. She states that Farkle can only control what is, well, within his control. And, believe it or not, accomplishing this costuming task is within that sphere. All in all, a key friendship building moment for the two of them.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Isadora gets a notification from a messaging app, startled to discover it’s from her mother. It’s the first correspondence she’s received from her in months, since she went to visit for winter break. Valerie apologizes for the way the tabloids have seemed to jump on her, and promises that she will take care of it.

Isadora ignores the messages, opting not to respond. She’s obviously still hurt by the state in which her relationship with her mother exists.

When she looks back up again, she’s made it back in front of the black box. The audition sheet for the musical is glaring back at her, almost daring her to put her name on it. It goes against everything she’s ever thought about herself and performing in general… and yet, she can’t seem to look away from it.

Clearly, she has some deliberating to do.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Lucas is alone at center stage, trying and failing to teach himself the choreography for the techie performance. It’s partially his fault considering he put it off until the last minute, but the fact that he clearly has no idea what he’s doing regardless certainly doesn’t help. Not to mention the nerves. That never improves a difficult situation.

Riley pushes through the stage doors and wanders into the wings just as he’s starting over from the top, evidently frustrated. She hangs back for a moment to observe, clearly finding the visual wholly endearing. Then, she decides to throw him a life preserver.

Riley: Well, there’s a sight I never thought I’d see.

Lucas brushes off her teasing commentary, explaining that given how important grades are to his crew he figures he should at least put a semblance of effort. Riley nods along, seeing right through his aloof exterior. If he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t be here attempting to rehearse.

Riley volunteers to walk through the steps with him, picking up the choreo sheet and taking a look at it. She observes his approach to a couple of the steps as he walks through it, stating exactly just how stupid he thinks each move is.

After getting a good sense of where he’s at, Riley claims that his main problem is that he’s too stiff. He’s all lost in his head, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to perform the number if he’s so locked up. She claims she can help him, but only if he trusts her and allows her to do so. Can he do that?

After a moment of hesitation, he agrees. He raises his hands in surrender, telling her to do whatever witchcraft it’s going to take to suddenly make him a good dancer.

Amused, Riley pulls out her phone and finds a waltzing track. She explains that it’s important to just get comfortable with movement first, and a waltz is probably one of the most basic forms of dance there is. It’ll at least loosen him up. He seems hesitant, but when Riley holds out her hand, it doesn’t take him long to take it. She adjusts their posture, Lucas allowing her to take the reigns and set them up correctly.

Riley: We’ll use the 3-count – you can count that high, right? [ Off his offended expression ] Just kidding.

Lucas: Ha ha ha. Very funny.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Princess Diaries Waltz” as performed by John Debney || Instrumental

They start off slow, taking the dance one step at a time. As they’re going through the motions, Riley can tell that he’s still stuck on the technicalities of it all. His head is constantly down, focused on what his feet are doing rather than letting them operate on their own.

Riley: That’s your problem. Don’t you see it? You’re overthinking. You keep looking at your feet.

[ Riley reaches out and lifts his chin, putting them back at eye level. Lucas locks eyes with her, speechless. ]

Riley: Just look at me.

From that moment, it’s clear – Lucas has slipped. He is cascading off the mountain top and falling head over heels.

As the music swells, the two of them continue their lesson. The longer they work at it the more they get the hang of it, actually getting comfortable with the whole thing and, dare it be said, having fun. Lucas even ventures a twirl under the arm, Riley breaking into laughter.

Definitely loosened him up, that’s for sure.

As they waltz, Isadora runs in looking for Lucas. She intends to tell him about the message from her mom and ask what he thinks about her potentially auditioning for the musical, but the second she sees them on the stage together she stops. She ducks back into the shadows of the aisle doors, watching them dance together.

She can tell from the look on her best friend’s face that something is different. Something is changing, and she gets the feeling she shouldn’t interrupt. But the notion also spooks her – if they’re changing, what does that mean for her? What else might change in the process?

Isadora backs off, disappearing back through the doors and leaving them alone.

INT. AAA - LIBRARY - NIGHT

Jack and Eric are both staying late, working together to comb through pages and pages of computer usage records. Eric flips through the documents while Jack cross references using one of the library desktops, the screen washing them both in blue-white computer glare.

As they’re searching, the two of them vaguely discuss the current sophomore class assignment and whether or not they think anything is actually going to change because of it. Eric points out that it’s impressive how quickly things can change under the right circumstances – including their dynamic.

Eric: I mean, at the risk of jinxing it, never before would I have believed you and I would be working together so effectively with such a clear goal.

Jack: Yes, I suppose our priorities tend to be… rather divergent.

But they both care about the students. That’s the obvious unifying motivation for both of them, and perhaps they should default to that train of thought more often. Something to think about.

The somewhat vulnerable conversation screeches to a halt when Jack stumbles upon what he thinks might be exactly what they’re looking for. There’s information about an email exchange with the supposed IP of the tabloid, and the student logged in at the time is a junior named Marly Evans.

Jack and Eric exchange a look. One step closer to answers…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The performers are all seated in the front section of the auditorium, chattering lightly and impatiently waiting for whatever is supposed to happen next. It’s odd for them to be there in the audience rather than getting ready to perform.

Suddenly, music blasts on over the speakers, being operated by Clarissa.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

Clarissa leans back, looking rather pleased with herself at having done the maneuver correctly, as well as relieved. CHAI FRESCO, working the lights, gives her a congratulatory pat on the back.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The moment the track begins, it’s clear what performance they’re about to be experiencing. All of the performers in the audience react accordingly, jaws dropping and excited laughter already premeditating the performance.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Dancing Queen” as performed by Mamma Mia! Original Movie Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomore Techies

As the first opening chorus kicks off, all eight of the usual techie crew make their way down the center aisles on either side of the center section. They’re going into this ridiculous number full throttle, singing along to the track with fervor and sporting the hilarious and amazing costumes that the performers put together for them over the course of the week.

Coming down the aisles, Lucas and Isadora lead the lines on either side and make their way up to the stage. As they pass through, the techies interact with their classmates in the audience. Nigel and Yindra pat Jeff and Nate on the backs as they sashay their way past. Dave high-fives Yogi and Haley, while Dylan and Asher blow kisses to Riley.

Isadora takes a brunt of the singing – and given the talent level of most of the techies vocally, this is for the the best. However, Dylan does get his claim to fame on the line “you’re a tease and you turn ‘em on, leaving ‘em burning and then you’re gone,” which he delivers with such a flourish. Asher joins in with him on the second half of the line, the two of them standing back to back and just belting that jazz.

In moments where the choreography pairs them off, the duos are Lucas & Isadora, Dave & Jade, Dylan & Asher, and Nate & Jeff. It’s so cute to watch them goof around with each other. They may just pull this heist off yet.

During the midst of each chorus (“having the time of your life, ooh”), Dave gets a mini dance solo. It’s all like, bad dancing – the robot, flossing, moonwalking – but it’s hysterical. Jeff also break dances, which is just legendary.

For each beat of the chorus where they sing “you can dance, you can jive,” the choreography involves pointing out towards the audience before turning to the side whilst Dave takes his solo to finish with a spin on the ooh. During one of these points, Lucas directs his point to Riley and winks. Yes, I did say that right. That idiot actually winks. Riley hides her face in her hands, a la Rachel Berry in Never Been Kissed.

They bring the number home going back to back with their dance partners, Lucas and Isadora at center stage. The moment their part is done and the final music swell takes over Lucas breaks into a relieved smile and pumps his fist in the air, so happy to have the whole thing be done with. But he did it!! Isadora tilts her head back against his shoulders, also relieved they managed to pull it off.

Dylan and Asher are jumping around and hugging. Dave hugs Jade and twirls her around. From the audience, the performers leap up and giving them a resounding standing ovation. I could never convey how truly iconic this whole sequence is, but there you have it. One of the best numbers in the full series of AMBITION.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Given that it’s usually the techies who clean up and strike each performance, now it is up to the performers. Charlie and Zay are cleaning up the stage, cheekily congratulating one another for successfully keeping their class from imploding.

Now that he’s had a couple days to think on it, Charlie makes a point of thanking Zay for standing up for him. Zay tells him he’d do it any time, and admits that he’s actually had a really good time this week goofing around with him. Charlie is all nervous chuckles and flustered waves of dismissal, but it’s clear the sentiment means a lot to him.

As he’s heading out, Zay calls after him.

Zay: Think I might take you up on that offer to hang out sometime. You know, if that offer is still valid.

Charlie: [ with a smile ] Hit me up, and I’m sure we can work something out.

Zay watches him go, unable to hold back that smile that blooms across his face. Then he gets back to work, putting the last of the set pieces back into place.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Maya finds Isadora in the dressing room, having just changed back into her usual clothes. Maya congratulates her on a job well done, and Isadora returns the notion by thanking her for the ridiculous but effective costume.

Maya reiterates her stance that she believes Isadora should seriously consider auditioning for the musical. Even though she did clearly have a lot of fun with “Dancing Queen,” Isadora hesitantly admits that her reluctance doesn’t just stem from the performing aspect of it.

Without saying much else, Maya senses that she’s referring to her mother, and all the baggage that comes with that. So she takes a different persuasive approach.

Maya: I get what you’re feeling. It may seem like I take after my mom, and I guess I do in some ways – especially the vocal ability. But otherwise, I really don’t. She’s sweet, just naturally, and softer than anyone I know. I’m not like that. [ a beat ] I’m more like my dad. And I fought against that part of me a lot, because he’s trash. He left me. He hurt my mom. But… it’s those parts of me that are like me that help me get where I want to go. The determination. The ability to be demanding, when necessary. The stubbornness –

Isadora: Yes, all of your best traits…

Maya: [ with an eye roll ] I know they’re not the most popular, believe me, but they’re a part of me. He’s a part of me, even if I wish he wasn’t. So I embrace it instead. Because I’m pretty effing awesome, and I’m not holding myself back because of him.

Isadora considers this, avoiding her gaze. Maya gives it one last push.

Maya: You’ve got talent, Smack. Don’t let the things your mom has done hold you back or stop you from doing what makes you happy. Don’t give her the power of taking away another good thing from your life.

Hanging on this sentiment, Maya gives her a light touch on the shoulder before heading out. Isadora ruminates on all of this, turning back to face herself in the mirror. She starts to wipe off her stage makeup… before hesitating. Tilting her head, trying to decide if she likes it or not. If this is something she may actually want to investigate…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Bird Set Free (Live for Spotify)” as performed by Sia || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz

Isadora launches into this anthem for self-expression, growing more empowered the further into the song she gets.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

She takes the performance into the auditorium and owns the stage, not inhibited by anybody watching her or the pressure of living up to expectations. Just fully leaning into the interest in performing she’s been holding back for so long, potentially opening up the gates to pursuing it.

And boy, will she get to pursue it…

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack confronts MARLY EVANS (17), the student who has been leaking information about Isadora to the tabloids. She claims that it was just to make a quick buck – she’s trying to pay for college soon, after all – and she never meant to like, hurt anyone. Jack states that her behavior is an intrusion of privacy, and such treatment of another student could warrant expulsion.

Marly points out the hypocrisy that Lucas can literally start a fight and not get expelled, but Jack highlights the glaring differences in both of the situations. Angling for one last plea, Marly claims he might reconsider her sentence after she offers what information she knows about the AAAC. Which is to say – she knows things that he might find interesting.

Jack hesitates… this could be a good lead in an other cold case…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The world seems to have righted itself once again, as Farkle and Maya are back standing at center stage while the techies are seated in the center section. They first commend them on their fun and energetic performance, before going on to explain that although the week was brutal, they learned a lot and are happy to have participated in it.

Farkle: Really, I’m just happy to have passed.

But as the techies should well know, they’re performers, and they can’t get through an entire week without a song of their own. This one, though, they claim is dedicated to their crew.

Maya: We lean on you guys all the time, usually without even realizing it. I think after this week, it’ll be hard to forget how crucially.

Farkle: So this time around, we’re extending the invitation back to you.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Lean On Me” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by AAA Sophomores

The rest of the performers take the stage as they hum their way into the number, Zay coming to join the other two divas at the front. He takes the first verse, the class joining in on the chorus.

About halfway through, the performers take to the edge of the stage to gesture the techies up there with them. They help pull them up over the front of the stage, climbing up to share in the performance with them. As the song slows to the bridge, the divas give the solo to Isadora who delivers it with gusto.

The class dances together through the rest of the number, emphasizing some of the new bonds that have been built through the episode or strengthening the old ones. Dylan and Asher each have an arm around Lucas. Dave is jamming with Haley and Nigel. Isadora fits pretty effortlessly in with the core group of performers, bringing the song home with them.

Angela and Shawn watch from the back, swaying together and reveling in the fact that their two sides of the school have finally made peace. She leans her head on his shoulder. Shawn smiles watching the sophomores band together and bring down the house to close us out. Finally coexisting.

For now.

END OF EPISODE.

[ikonislife]

My Professor 5

-Hanbin x Reader (Professor!Hanbin)

-1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

-It was universally known that friend with benefit between best friends would be a chaotic ride from the start till the heartbreak of either one or both party. No one says anything about being in one with your dear professor…

-Rated M for language, mention of sex (secretly rated B for bullshit 😏)

-a/n: I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW SHORT THIS PART IS... and how long it took to get written. Life is rough as always and I lost all my writing mojo so i took a step back and just let myself enjoy the excitement of anticipating their comeback. 

This part and the one after will just be story filler/ fluff to really build up to the climax of the series. I hope you guys won’t mind the story slowing down a bit before I can go full throttle with what I had in mind as to where our dear professor will end up.

Which of the most basic human emotions is the strongest? That’s a question you’ve always struggled with and more often than not, disagree with the general consensus. The large sum of the population seems to think it’s fear, While others think it’s love. You could certainly see how fear can drive people to do things they could never, or would never agree to had they not been under duress. You’ve had enough first hand experience with this particularly menacing emotion today to speak on the matter. Same with love you suppose, having gone though already a more than rocky start and Hanbin haven’t even got a chance to utter that question yet. 

However for you, it’s the combination of these emotions, when they so perfectly mingled and worked together to lull you into a spot so sweet, its effect is deafening.  That certainly is the case right now as you watch Hanbin figure trailing further and further away from your stilled one, fear runs deep within the veins of your incapacitated body. You both had been so careless, a sense of happiness produce by your new found love had left you both negligent of the possibility that someone might still be lingering about, even as high into the sky as the man in the moon is this time of night. Happiness, love, and fear created a perfect mixture of poison that set your heart ablaze, wanting nothing more than for Hanbin to turn around and let you fall into his protective arms, to listen to his soft cooing of assurance.  Yet at the same time, your mind scrambled from the thought of losing him forever if this messed up secret surface to take a breath of fresh air, body wanting to regurgitate your non existent dinner, leaving souring taste in your throat. 

But beneath it all, perhaps curiosity struck an even bigger impact as you watch your man near skipping toward the stranger, his mannerism... happy? How could he be so relax at a climatic moment, the wall that had been protecting his darkest secret, protecting you were about to crumble with the tick of the clock. What has he got going in his mind?

Cold sweats are now breaking over your stiffening body, your eyes so frantically searches for any sign that he had noticed your distress, to read your mind but alas his attention too focus on the person ahead with a strange cheeky smile on his lips. Then without a warning, his arms thrown up in the air as if he’s performing a flashy mating dance, similar to those magnificent birds in those documentary you love to watch so often, awaiting the arrival of the shadow man. 

“POOH” 

Yet another unexpected thing happening way too fast to add in the list of things happening so fast and unexpectedly, they’re leaving your head spinning in circle. 

“MICKEY!” And so the looming shadow  replies. Curses this old building and its less than standard lighting, you can’t even make out the other person’s face yet something, something is so familiar it’s on the tip of your tongue. 

It’s Jiwon. Crap.

Your mind silently gasp, he wouldn’t suspect anything, would he? After all, up till this point it was more likely you were fooling around with him than Hanbin going off on just public interaction alone. No way he’d suspect anything. You tell yourself yet you know deep down just how sharp the other professor Kim could be.

You must not be very convincing because as it tells itself not to worry, a monologue worthy of awards is being created simultaneously in your mind, the excuses to explain the fondness in your behaviors putting into a list. Your short barely qualify as a relationship relationship flashes before your eyes as the last chance to escape now being block by your dear professors

The two men crash into each other as if lovers reunited after a treacherous month long separation - dramatic, over the top, and down right unnecessary in the way they’re embracing each other so tight, Jiwon’s hands wandering in places that you hoped only yours had gotten the pleasure to feel. Hanbin was even worse in his touchiness, hands snaking around the other man’s waist, resting on his lower back before ruffling up his hair.  Chatting away happily, the pair has completely forgotten your lingering present, that is until Jiwon peeks behind their shoulders, an eyebrow raised in intrigue. Noting his expression, Hanbin also turn toward the direction of his curiosity, a warm smile beaming bright at you, near prideful. 

“Your girl?”

“Something like that.” Hanbin chuckles like a school kid, cheeks blooms like fresh roses in spring with a slight scratch to his head. His tone almost bashful, shy even as he repeats to himself softly under his breath Jiwon’s word. “My girl” a strange giggle you’ve never seen slips under the moonstruck smile. 

Who is this soft man in front of you and what had he done with your sex God?! Is this the kind of boyfriend he’ll be, giving you a full range of the rainbow from the softest to making you beg for mercy under the pale moonlight? If so, you’re about to be in for the ride of your life and truthfully, you’re all for it.

“Come. On. Man. Again with the “something like that” speech. Is she your girl or nah?” His feet planting firm into the worn out floor of the ancient building that had you bracing for the destruction of the infrastructure any second now. Well, if the building isn’t collapsing anytime soon then you will because Jiwon manages to shoot your a sly wink all the while looking stern as he grills his very clingy friend.

“DO NOT wink at her, I will murder you.” The sudden thought of your lie fills Hanbin’s mind with imageries that will probably send him into a murderous feat had he not has so much trust in both his girl and his best friend. A quiet “thank you” slips his lips as Jiwon abandons his teasing way at the piercing glares, feeling the wrath of a man who has everything to lose. “I was gonna introduce her AFTER, i make things official. You jumped the gun bro. Plus it’s not like you don’t know her, she’s in your class.”

“Alright, so protective already. I’m scare to know what you’d do to those boys that always flirt with her in class.” Yet another sly raise of the brows find its way into your peripheral, and yet again Hanbin looks as if someone had just insulted all his ancestors and his future children all in the same sentence. 

“No, Binnie, don’t kill me. I’m sorry, alright. I’ll leave you kids be then, I’ll go die all alone with my endless stacks of work.”

Honestly at this point you didn’t know if you have to worry about the witch or Jiwon because to any passerby, their intimacy level is that of an old married couple. The way their arms so naturally draping around each other’s bodies, the familiarity in their touches, and down right to the gentle whispering between the two. They even got the bickering down to an art... Oh lord, Jiwon is the one you really have to watch out for.

“I’ll see you around… sister-in-law!”

You stare incredulously at the disappearing Jiwon, laughing manically all the while trying to avoid Hanbin’s playful punches, not quite sure if you’re just having a strange midday dream or their bromance of a meeting really did just happened. Sauntering back your way, Hanbin couldn’t help but let a smile blooms on his lips at how adorable and befuddle you’ve become watching his interaction.

“Have I gone mad or did you and the other hot professor Kim are like bros...”

“You have not and you should only know ONE hot professor Kim, alright?” Near growling under his breath, Hanbin has his hand brushing against your waist, even if the contact lingering barely a second, you could feel the green with envy dripped fingertips.

“Yes, professor.”

Even with the desires burning deep within both your hearts to spend as much time as you could together, the sudden chatter lingering by the courtyard reminds you both of just how much is at risk. With one last smile, your dear professor begins his short trip to the confine of his office, a much happier man than this morning, heart grown just a bit larger at the thought of you cozy in his bed just a few hours from now, and many days to come.

Quite strange really to think of all the ups and downs Harbin and you have gone through, all the sadness and the pain even before the relationship really even got a chance to bloom. Out of all the nonsense and wonderfulness of it all, the only thing you haven’t managed to comprehend, to really wrap your head around is the how of it all. You’re mystify, so utterly lost at just how easily, despite all the tears and words of hurts of course, everything had fallen into place when it could have just as easily fizzles out, a romance snipped in the bud before it could bask in the bright sunlight to show off all of its vibrancy. Yet here you are, near skipping your way toward that dingy old room filled with endless stacks of paperwork, coffee in hands awaiting the end of his work hours.

Friends with benefit relationship is hard, no argument there, it rarely worked and more often than not ends up in a string of heartbreaks. But when friends and benefit get thrown into a professional world, a world where everything is grey rather than clear cut black and white. A world that require an intricate dance of not crossing the line all the while taking an axe to all other lines set up by society to differentiate what’s acceptable, that’s just something beyond any of your calculation, and Hanbin as well you suspect. 

In those days when you were just a bored student, just another face in the crowded lecture hall that seemingly there only for the gorgeous face and smooth voice, did you ever think this rollercoaster of a fuck up relationship would ever work out? God no, not even in your highest highs and wildest of vivid dreams of a horny college girl lusting after her professor. The thought of him even looking your way was even preposterous because lord know he got some on the daily. You have to admit, had he been any less handsome or charming, you would’ve said fuck the 5% of your grade depending on attendant, and maybe one day you’ll admit that to Hanbin but for now to yourself is enough. You were fine with that, showing up for a few hours to watch him dance and sing his way to the betterment of the future, it’s not like you won’t concede to feeling just a tad bit more encouraged when Hanbin offers up in a few lingering stares and a sweet, coy smile or two as you waddle your way out after class. 

The first time you had worked up the courage to storm into his office, it was vast different from tonight but in many ways, alike.  The bleeding sunshine so gentle and silky against your skin, basting everything in a near glittery tone not even filters could get such beautiful light. You didn’t know if it was your heart was beating just a bit faster but the brilliant hues of the sky was especially stunning, the golden ray bowing out for the day leaving the stage open for roses to overtake the pristine white clouds. You circled the building, three times, as any one would of course on their way in for some one on one help with homework, it’s a big deal, facing your professor. It wasn’t until the clock ticking close to 6 that you had realized professors do not in fact live in their office, that they do have a life outside of the university. You felt stupid, barging in so last minute and watched as his handsome features faltered just a bit knowing whatever his plan was that night was out the window. So in your insane delirious mind of hunger accompanied by the worst string of insomnia, you flirted. You flirted because if he’s to be kept here by your pestering self, the very least you could offer up some pleasant banter, because that’s exactly what your catch of a professor need… His student shooting heart eyes his way to make up for taking up his free time. It’s not a good plan but a plan nonetheless. 

The walk now, silvery moonlight grazing your skin with its cool wisps, nothing warming your soul aside from the warmth emanating from the scalding hot coffees and the excitement of once again retreating to the place where your heart longs for. Yet that distinct bubbling in your chest, the excitement of seeing that soul melting grin, that definitely cannot be misplace. Although the uncertainties, the hope that you were somehow more special than any other girls in his class long gone and was now replaced by just how loved you feel from his words, from his action, and simply just from the soft gazes accompany by the most adorable moonstruck smile. You want to sing to the world, to show everyone how amazing this man you get to call yours is but for now these private meeting at the most intimate hours of night will do so long as you get to be in his arms. Who know if you’ll both last through the trials of time in the future, or if there even is a future for you both but getting to see Hanbin in ways others can only wish to is definitely worth it all. 

As with any high, the come down of when reality hits you in the face with its bitterness is especially hard in the form of that ear piercing, gut wrenching shriek of a laugh from the one and only. With still nearly 3 doors to pass, her shrill laughter still pierce your heart, freezing it over with that haunting menacing tone. You know nothing will happen, you trust Hanbin with your future quite literally so there’s no questioning his action yet you couldn’t help that souring volcanic of a reaction deep within your gut. With a heavy sigh, your steps deter from the small door that holds your happiness, the single person that could make you feel a million buck with just a simple utter of your name… All of that was being stain by the stench of the enemy.

Is this what jealousy feel like? 

You have to see this, what the hell are they even talking about for her to be laughing so carefree. Loud grunt lost to the frigid breeze, you tiptoe toward the entrance with great care, flushing so tightly against the grossly stained wall. Boy did you blood curdle in anger at the sigh beholding, irritation drowns your body in its toxin and it pains you to physically be incapable of just dumping these cups of joe all over her goddamn inappropriate flaunting happening right on top of Hanbin’s desk. In what world did she thinks it’d be within the school code of conducts to be perching so precariously atop another professor’s desk, short skirt rising over her crossed legs so high just one more inch and you’ll be able to spot her intimates. Her back arches strategically, putting forth her most worthy assets as if Hanbin would really buys whatever she got to sell. Your lips nearly split open and her poison dipped fingertips brushes against Hanbin’s soft hand, she really crosses the line now. As much as it pains you, walking away is the only right answer and so before your heart could overpower your brain, your body slowly inches away.

[9:40] Well, I wasn’t expecting that

[9:40] Nerd 👓❤️: What do you mean, baby?

[9:41] You know what I mean. God, did she thinks that was appropriate, putting her ass on a place your students use to do work? Where you do work? Your desk! My desk! GOD!

[9:41] Nerd 👓❤️: And the work we do on it isn’t, huh sweetheart? 

[9:41] IRRELEVANT!! 

[9:41] How is that irrelevant, my God this girl. And anyways, since when is it your desk?

[9:42] Since I claimed it. Or did you forget how many time you fucked me raw atop it, professor?

[9:42] Nerd 👓❤️: I have no word for you… You’re lucky I love you.

[9:42]  Tell me when the witch is gone. I’m going over to Jiwon, I have homework questions.

If there be someone lost for words, it’s you. Yes, she’s his co-worker and co-workers are meant to bond but she had gone well beyond trust exercises, into territories of scandalous. Well, nothing nearly as dramatic as your relationship with Hanbin of course but that’s beside the point.   There’s no denying the guilt deep within your heart for Hanbin, caught in between a cry baby girlfriend and a person who does not seems to possess an ounce of IQ despite being parade as one of the best newcomer the school had seen since, well the recruitment of Hanbin and Jiwon. The two seconds you had the pleasure of passing by her during class changing was by far your least favorite experience so how could your man put up with her days after days, that piss indecent laugh and unnecessary mating dance… You’ve no words. 

The beautiful dance of pleasure and pain bestowed upon your quivering body so many nights and counting, that’s not something she ever going to experience, not in her wildest dream simply because you won’t allow it. The sweetheart you get to come home to, the absolutely breathtaking, caring man that could make you smile simply by looking your way, his heart, his soul, there’s no questioning the love he has for you and just how utterly infatuated you are with him. Yet this typhoon of jealousy, the green tinge of envy lurking its ugly head, winding itself around your heart like a python ready for the kill, there’s just no helping that. Is that wrong? Would Hanbin laugh if you share this with him, or would be be offended you have such little faith in the person you claimed to love. In truth, this whole whirlwind of a romance has you so wrapped around his slender finger, mind drunk with his whole being yet in reality, you know next to nothing about this person you call your man. Who is Kim Harbin really in the pocket of space and time when your present ceases to exist. Is he a kind son to his parents, what about siblings, aside from a vague mentioning of a younger sister, he speaks of nothing else in regard to family. What kind of bar does he and friends frequent, those trendy hipster one with more type of beers than there are hair on your head. Or are they the rugged type, pool halls and smoke filled dimly lit room while sipping on neat glasses of whiskey. So is it so wrong for you to have the tiniest bit of paranoia in your heart.

The bright light shining through the frosted glass boding gold lettering “134 - Kim Jiwon” and harsh yet quite beat of hiphop spilling through the crack of the door like a slap to your consciousness as your steps screech to a halt, the near 10 minutes walk from the room that left your heart torn like a missing piece of time, lost in the whirlwind of worries and guilt for even be worrying in the first place. With the softest knock you could muster while juggling two cups of pipping hot caffeine, your lungs finally let go of their clutch on a big puff of oxygen held in from the overwhelming emotion, waiting to be exhale only to find yet another lung full frozen inside. You clear your mind as best as you could but that in itself proving to be an impossible task… Kim Jiwon no longer just an innocent face you’re forced to lie to, he’s in this now, an important player judging by Hanbin’s decision to let him in on your secret. Will he be a trustworthy ally or an opponent lying in wait, only time can tell and for now all you can do is trust Hanbin’s instinct. For now the only thing you could do is play nice and observe.

a/n part 2: So many of you told me Hanbin and Jiwon from Konfidential night reminded you of this series so here ya go, something to aid your imagination.

[thelightoflebanon]

Warmth

The night air hits Castiel’s face once they walk out of the barn. It’s cool and refreshing, drying the moisture that had stained his skin in the moments before his imminent death. It’s strange. There’s no trace of the black goo that had poured from his mouth and onto his clothes, yet his skin is still clammy when he touches it. That, along with the ache that settles deep in his bones and chest, make him almost feel human.

He certainly had acted like one during what he thought would be his last breaths. He never expected to say those words. He had pondered them. When he first met Dean, he felt connected to his charge. He had been the first human soul he saved in over a millennium. The men and women who lived over a thousand years ago tended to believe in the power of God and angels much more often than not. Ira had dropped to his knees with joy when he brought him back to his wife and children and attempted to offer him food and shelter during his few days on Earth as a token of thanks. Although there had been a small part of Castiel that had appreciated how grateful the man was, he felt no further connection with him than necessary.

But Dean...Dean had fought him tooth and nail as Castiel descended into the pit. He swore and spat and clawed at his skin as Castiel started to raise him from the perdition he had been damned to. But once they broke through to the light, Dean clung to him and wept, staring up at him in awe as Castiel took him home.

He had never been more intrigued by another being in his life and he and Dean hadn’t even properly introduced themselves at that point.

And now? After all they have been through? Years filled with loss, tears, laughter, triumphs, more loss, so much loss...they always pulled through and managed to find their way back to each other.

Of course what he feels is love. He’s known that for a while now.

And he loves Sam. Sam is a brother, a friend. And Mary. Despite his years on her, she treats him like a third son in a way that isn’t confusing.

But Dean? ‘Brother’ doesn’t fit Dean, even though that’s the title Castiel has received from him. With Dean it is more than that, something so profound that Castiel sometimes feels it could shatter the very Earth they walk on.

He hadn’t had time to tell Dean all of that. So he had decided ‘I love you’ was sufficient enough with the little time he had left. Besides, Castiel is relatively sure Dean hasn’t heard the phrase directed towards him very often. He deserves that much.

“I’m gonna ride with him. He doesn’t need to be driving.”

Castiel hears the words, not particularly surprised by them. But still, he had been hoping for the quiet, to take a moment to clear his head and his heart enough to be around Dean.

“Dean, I assure you, I’m fine-”

“Shut up.”

Eloquent as ever.

Sam and Mary don’t argue the point. They’re not surprised either. Sam’s eyes just shift between the two of them, scrutinizing them curiously, while Mary looks at him with a tender sadness that makes him feel exposed.

Dean’s left hand finds his way to his shoulder and it stays there until Castiel steps into the passenger seat of the truck. Sam pulls off the property first, driving down the driveway and onto the road. He and Dean both watch in silence, a silence that is only broken when Dean lets out a shaky breath.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, man.”

Castiel’s lips purse at the words, ready to comeback with a smart response. But when he turns to look at Dean, his heart skips a beat when he sees his friend’s forehead resting on the steering wheel, eyes closed with fear.

Castiel raises a hand, wondering if he should soothe Dean’s worries. But he slowly lowers it back down to rest on his seat when Dean pops his head back up to stare at him with big eyes.

“I can’t lose anyone else, Cas,” he confides in him, “I really can’t. You’ve already died on me a few times. You don’t get to again.”

Castiel nods slowly, “Okay, Dean.”

“Promise?”

Castiel squints in confusion, “Considering our lives, I feel promising not to die again could be potentially hard to keep.”

“Just entertain me,” Dean pleads.

He studies his friend, the lines on his face that have slowly multiplied throughout the years, the way his mouth is drooped into a sad frown, and the way his eyes are searching him, for comfort or whatever it may be that Dean wants.

“...Okay, Dean,” he answers him with a sigh, “I promise. And I trust you’ll promise me as well?”

Dean smiles a little at that and lets out a small huff before turning back to face the windshield.

“Yeah,” Dean answers as the engine revs, “Sure. Chick flick moment’s over, right?”

Castiel shakes his head in amusement, “I believe you started it this time, Dean.”

Dean snorts and pulls out onto the road, “Yeah, right. You started it back at the barn. I just finished it.”

Castiel remains quiet for a moment before clearing his throat, “I was under the impression that a chick flick was a fictional film aimed towards the female demographic. Does making sure that you know the impact you’ve had on my emotions and my life before I die constitute as a chick flick moment?”

The interior of the truck goes completely silent, with the exception of Dean’s hitched breath.

“I apologize for putting you on the spot, Dean. I just...It was a vulnerable moment for me. I’d rather it not be completely disregarded and mocked.”

Dean sputters at that, shaking his head as he does so, “I wasn’t...That’s not...Look, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. You followed suit. I’m sorry if I touched a nerve. Really, I am.”

“It’s alright. Perhaps I reacted to the situation too harshly.”

Dean shrugs, grumbling something Cas doesn’t quite catch, before reaching over to turn on the radio.

“Damn it, it’s all static,” Dean groans, turning the dial, “I figured we might be far enough out of the woods to be able to tune into a station.”

“It’s not the signal,” Cas shakes his head, “The radio has been broken for over a week now.”

Dean lets out a sigh, “Can’t you just mojo it back to life?”

“I’m not exactly in top form.”

Dean shrugs, giving him that, then rolls his eyes, “You don’t even have a cassette player.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Dude, we need to get you a new car.”

“My truck is completely adequate,” Cas tells him defensively.

“Believe me,” Dean scoffs, “It’s not.”

Castiel doesn’t argue his point further. It’s stupid to carry on anyway.

“It is.”

There. Now he’s done.

Dean’s a bit too insistent and controlling regarding his rest, but Castiel doesn’t find himself minding too much.

He’s been marathoning different shows with Dean for two days now, something they don’t have time for but he’s missed anyway. He hadn’t gotten around to the new season of Orange is the New Black, so they knocked that out in the first day, before starting on Breaking Bad.

“Walter White is a fucking dick,” Dean comments during season two, “I don’t care that he has terminal cancer. He’s leaving his pregnant wife to go off and cook crystal meth, turned down money when it was offered to him because of his pride, and treats Jesse like shit.”

“I’m not sure he has a soul,” Castiel answers, concerned, “No man could be so self-centered and power hungry.”

“Believe me,” Dean snorts, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Castiel’s lap, “They do exist, souls attached and all.”

Castiel likes Netflix. He enjoys becoming invested in shows. Movies are fine, but television is fascinating to him, with the way it allows the audience to follow the lives of characters and watch them grow and change. It also lets him escape for awhile and enjoy one of the many aspects of art that humans created.

But he enjoys spending time with Dean more. Most of his time during his days off have been spent with Dean, with the exception of Mary pulling them all outside to take a family picture together.

However, despite Dean by his side, he starts to get restless on the fourth day of binge-watching. Restless due to knowing he has many tasks that need tending to, restless due to being so close to Dean after revealing so much just a few days before. He’s back to his normal self, whatever that may be, and he knows it’s time for him to go.

He doesn’t know why he waits until Dean falls asleep to get ready to make his departure. Perhaps because it is hard enough to get up off the couch when his friend is curled up next to him, knees drawn up in order to not invade Castiel’s space yet his toes are grazing his thigh regardless. But he forces himself to stand and manages not to wake Dean in the process, then collects a few of his belongings from his room before making his way back towards the stairs to the exit.

“You leavin’?”

Castiel pauses before turning around. Dean’s sitting up on the couch, his expression set in a tired squint as he stands up and stretches.

“Yes,” Castiel announces, looking down, “I...I believe I have taken enough time to rest up. I need to get back on task and search for a lead on Kelly.”

Dean frowns at that but nods, “Okay. Yeah, I get it. You sure you’re good?”

“I’m sure.”

“Cool,” Dean grunts out, “Don’t be a stranger, Cas.”

Castiel gives his friend a soft smile, “I won’t.”

“Seriously, dude. Answer your phone. Call in, even if it’s just to chat. Answer my Words with Friends requests.”

“I was starting to feel unchallenged with that game.”

Dean gives him a double take and laughs, “You calling me dumb, Cas?”

Castiel shakes his head and frowns, “No, Dean. You’re actually much more intelligent than you let yourself believe. But it’s hard to not become bored with a word game when you know every word in almost every language.”

Dean smiles at that, “Touchè.”

Castiel shrugs and begins to climb up the stairs towards the door, “I’ll be in touch.”

It’s just when he’s about to leave. He has his hand on the knob, ready to turn it and everything, when Dean speaks up.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean calls out, sounding a bit strangled, “Hang on a sec. I got something for you. Wait there.”

Castiel removes his hand from the knob, “Alright.”

Dean walks to the other side of the common room before going out of sight when he turns down a hall. Castiel stands at the top of the steps, curiosity filling his thoughts. But it doesn’t take Dean long to return. At first, Castiel doesn’t see anything, wonders if his friend had stuck whatever he went to get in his pocket. But then he sees it. It’s small and rectangular, and once Dean makes his way up the steps to stand in front of him, he offers it to him.

“I’ve been working on it over the last couple of nights,” Dean shrugs, handing him the tape, “Figured you should finally be introduced to Led Zeppelin properly. They’re important to me.”

Castiel studies the tape thoughtfully. Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx. It’s a unique spelling of tracks, one that Castiel hasn’t seen before, but he doesn’t question it out loud.

“These are your favorite songs?” Castiel asks instead, touching the writing on the label.

Dean shrugs “Yeah, most of them. But there’s a couple on there I added for other reasons.”

“And what reasons are those?”

Dean looks away at that, “I don’t know, they sort of reminded me of you. Thought you might like them.”

Castiel finds himself smiling a little at the words, although he isn’t sure why they cause warmth to blossom in his chest. He doesn’t particularly care. It feels nice.

“I’m sure I will. When I’m able to listen to them. If you don’t remember, my truck doesn’t have a cassette player.”

Dean nods, expression carefully blank, “Guess you’ll just have to come back and listen to the tape then.”

“I suppose I will,” Castiel agrees.

“Maybe…” Dean starts, almost seeming nervous as he breathes in, “Maybe you and I can take a drive in the Impala, drive until we listen to the whole thing.”

Castiel’s gaze softens at that, “I’d like that.”

Dean bites his lip, his eyes flickering over Castiel’s form once, before stepping back, “Good. Me too. So you better take good care of it until you stop back in.”

“Of course,” Castiel answers, dropping the tape into his pocket, “Goodbye, Dean.”

As Castiel drives away from the bunker, he finds that he’s overtly aware of the tape in his chest pocket. It doesn’t seem possible. In fact, Castiel knows it’s not. But he could swear the tape is making the warmth spread even further.

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/The_Light_of_Lebanon_Universe/works/12080295

[disappearingground]

Jenny Lewis is following the magic

The Line of Best Fit March 20, 2019

Major life upheavals led to Jenny Lewis’ first solo album in five years but Josh Slater-Williams finds her embracing the stranger things the universe throws at her

Words by Josh Slater-Williams

“People always want to know what, why, how, when. I don't know. Which? Who? Whom! Whomst!”

Jenny Lewis has told me she doesn’t have a problem talking about new record, On the Line but there’s a certain reticence to divulging much about intent or any unifying connection between the thumping, lush ballads she’s assembled. It sounds like even she won’t know what the songs are about for a while.

“I don't even really consciously write songs,” Lewis says of whether the meaning of her music is clear by the time it’s recorded and released into the world. “I believe in the magic in a way, so I'm not sure how they begin. I'm not even sure how I finish them, but I tend to understand them years later. I don't understand this new album yet because I haven't toured it. Of course, you have an intuitive sense, but I can't really tell you exactly what it's about.”

Under the Blacklight - the final record she made as part of Rilo Kiley - is perhaps the one case of knowing what an album was about before taking it on tour. “Under the Blacklight is a concept album in a lot of ways,” she says. “That was really the first time that I wrote from a character perspective or I leaned on that a little bit. But again, I'm not sure where this stuff's coming from.”

Lewis’ relationship to her former band’s music has changed over the years, from ignoring it almost entirely at shows - bar maybe one song in an encore - to seemingly embracing it with gusto. I’ve seen her in concert on three occasions since Rilo Kiley toured for the last time in 2008, and the last of those shows, at The Art School in Glasgow in 2014 in support of The Voyager, saw Rilo Kiley tracks comprise roughly a quarter of the setlist.

“For years, I didn't really dig into the back catalogue,” Lewis says. “The first time I played a Rilo Kiley song without Rilo Kiley was when I was sitting in with Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band and he asked if I would play ‘Portions for Foxes’; Conor's always this incredible guide in a way. I hadn't really gone there before, but once I opened that door, it just opened the floodgates to the past. So now, I can go back and choose songs and some of them feel good. Some of them feel inappropriate. Or not inappropriate, more just really youthful in a way that doesn't suit me now. But it's surprising, which songs feel relevant. We’ve been doing a version of “Portions for Foxes”, a slowed down version that I've renamed “Bad News”. And that's been feeling really good.”

In a 2016 interview Lewis discussed her tendency to compartmentalise eras of her career describing herself as “not really one for nostalgia”; something of an ironic statement in light of the fact she was speaking in support of a tenth anniversary tour of solo debut Rabbit Fur Coat. A few years prior, she also participated in an anniversary tour for The Postal Service’s Give Up, having provided backup vocals for that platinum-selling collaboration between Ben Gibbard and Jimmy Tamborello that was a poster child for early aughts American indie music. This year marks the 20th anniversary of the first Rilo Kiley EP, an initially self-titled release later re-pressed as The Initial Friend EP.

I wonder if this inspires any particularly strong feelings for her? Apparently not. “It’s interesting to acknowledge the past,” she says. “And all the songs fit into the puzzle,” that puzzle presumably being the overarching story of Jenny Lewis. “But that was then, this is now. Can’t go back.”

When Lewis does acknowledge her past work in her music or the surrounding visual material, it tends to be focused on her acting career - which lasted from her early childhood to roughly around when Rilo Kiley started recording. Bar the odd cameo – including a spot in Sofia Coppola and Bill Murray’s Netflix special, A Very Murray Christmas – Lewis’ acting credits are mostly relegated to the ‘80s and ‘90s. She paid homage to some of her more recognisable family film credits and TV guest spots in a self-directed video for The Voyager’s “She Not Me”, wherein various celebrity pals were brought on board to re-enact moments from much-loved US sitcom The Golden Girls and cult comedy Troop Beverly Hills.

Saturday Night Live-alum Vanessa Bayer was one of those celeb friends, and reappeared for a livestream listening party of On The Line that also featured the likes of St. Vincent, Jeff Goldblum, Jason Schwartzman, Beck, Danielle Haim and comedian Tim Heidecker. The three-hour “telethon” of music, comedy and interviews raised funds for the LA Downtown Women’s Center and Lewis describes the event as “kind of a disaster in the best way.” It opened with a rendition of “The Frug” from the first Rilo Kiley EP, somewhat contradicting her reticence to return to the earliest Rilo Kiley material - although the song was admittedly performed by a barbershop quartet rather than by Lewis herself. “That was the director's idea,” she clarifies, “because that song is nowhere… it's just not in my consciousness right now. But it was really fun to open the show with that. Even though the refrain is, ‘I cannot fall in love / I cannot fall in love / I cannot fall in love’, which is a weird way to start off a live stream.”

"Sharing about addiction and mental health can hopefully provide a little insight or comfort for others going through it. And it's not taboo. It's okay to talk about it and it's not the whole story. It's part of the story."

“But I can fall in love,” she assures me with timid delivery, but a wry smile. “I hadn’t then [at the time of the EP], but it’s happened since, if anyone’s wondering.” I tell her I’ve gathered the likelihood of that from the multitude of songs since that have suggested as much. I would also assume her 12-year relationship with fellow singer/songwriter Johnathan Rice may have involved some degree of love; the two reportedly mutually parted ways after the release of The Voyager.

“I’m not in love currently, but I have been in love. Once… twice. Maybe twice.”

Lewis breaks into laughter here, which happens quite a few times in a conversation that proves surprisingly prone to detours into bizarre comedy tangents. Perhaps it’s a welcome change from some of the other interviews she’s already done as part of this album’s promotion cycle. A few days before we speak, Rolling Stone publish an interview where Lewis talks openly about her troubled childhood and late mother’s history of addiction that she’s never really spoken of in public before, and a recent Mojo interview is also candid in this area too. There have been many lyrical allusions in the past, but these interviews certainly clarify the distinction between memoir and fiction in some of her songs.

Her mother’s passing in 2017 played a big part in Lewis feeling open to speak about that backstory definitively. “I now have mixed feelings about sharing that honestly,” she tells me, “even though I've spilled the beans, you can't put the worms back in the can. I guess I waited to exploit her from beyond the grave, so I would imagine someone will do the same to me.”

“I'm understanding why I feel compelled to share that,” she says. “And I think that it's part of the healing process. Not that it's anyone's business but my own and my family's business. But for me, sharing about addiction and mental health can hopefully provide a little insight or comfort for others going through it. And it's not taboo. It's okay to talk about it and it's not the whole story. It's part of the story.”

The world won’t know the full story and we don’t have the right to it, I say. “But you have a right to whatever I share,” she points out. “And then it's part of the consciousness. I guess I don't want to hurt people even if they're gone. But it is my story and it is a big part of why I’m a writer.”

If Lewis herself won’t necessarily know what the new album is ‘about’ for some time, insobriety, addiction and self-medication stick out as recurring topics throughout her lyrics for On the Line. Various combinations of drink and drugs are called out by name, not least on “Red Bull & Hennessy”, while the refrain of “Little White Dove” plays with the homophone of ‘heroine’ and ‘heroin’.

Topics of sexuality have always been a thread through Lewis’ music, even dating back to the earliest days of Rilo Kiley, but with On the Line they seem particularly pronounced; often intertwining with nods to addiction and self-medication. Album opener “Heads Gonna Roll” starts with wondering “Why you stopped getting high” and closes with the suggestion that “A little bit of hooking up is good for the soul.”

“I guess it's all the same thing if you're using it in that way,” Lewis says when I ask if sex falls under the banner of self-medication in the lyrics. “But I don't necessarily think it's an unhealthy relationship with sex that I'm talking about on this album. I think it’s just an ability to articulate and use it to punctuate a moment. Like at the end of the song “Dogwood”, I didn't know what the lyric was going to be. And I was in the studio, just trying out a couple of options and then I landed on, “There's nothing we can do but screw.” That seems like a good way to end a song.”

“No subject is off limits,” Lewis continues. “Sex has always been a theme in my music.” She pauses. “And let’s hope it will always be a theme in my music! Fingers crossed.”

“Dogwood” is her favourite song on the album by a landslide: “That’s my most proud vocal performance,” she tells me. I’m personally drawn to “Taffy”, a ballad with a noticeably different rhythm to the rest of On the Line. It also happens to feature one of the album’s more attention-raising lyrics: “Nudie pics / I do not regret it / I knew that you were gone / I did so freely / I wanted you to see me off that throne you put me on.”

“Taffy was a poem that I wrote on the back of a barf bag on an airplane,” Lewis tells me, then reassuring me that the bag was unused, fresh and clean. “That was words first and then I sat down at the piano and figured out how to fit them into the puzzle. You can tell it’s a poem. That one almost didn't end up on the record. I sent it to a friend of mine who I consult with every time I make a record, as far as order goes, and there was some discussion of cutting one of the ballads. But then I thought, well, this is a record of mostly ballads. Why cut one now, we've already gone down that path. Again, you can't put the worms back in the can.”

“Beck is such a meticulous listener and producer. There's no stone left unturned...down to the last step in mastering. I'm not alone and he's thought of everything.”

Another major consultant for On the Line was Beck, who previously collaborated with Lewis on The Voyager highlight “Just One of the Guys”. He produced and played on multiple tracks on the new album. Lewis tells me she feels an affinity with him as someone who also plays with genre and personas between records. “We both grew up in Los Angeles and we remember a different kind of LA and share a lot of the same tastes in music. And I have just been a fan of his for so long; aesthetically, especially. I made demos on my GarageBand on my phone and sent them to him and he was immediately like, okay, we can do this. I am so happy with the way “Just One of the Guys” turned out and when I play it live, his arrangement really holds up. It's so thoughtful.

“He's such a meticulous listener and producer. There's no stone left unturned. I don't have to worry. Whereas with some of my other collaborators, I have to finish the heavy lifting. Or where I question: 'Is this finished?' No, it's not finished yet. I have to get it done on my own. But with Beck, down to the last step in mastering. I'm not alone and he's thought of everything.”

We don’t mention him by name but the “heavy lifting” undoubtably alludes to Ryan Adams, who reportedly left before finishing his production work on both The Voyager and On the Line. Following the recent allegations of sexual misconduct against Adams, Lewis tweeted a statement of support for the accusers.

A collaborator Lewis is happy to discuss is Ringo Starr, who plays drums on “Heads Gonna Roll” and “Red Bull & Hennessy”. The Beatles are mentioned in a lyric on album closer “Rabbit Hole”, though Lewis tells me there’s another nod to the band on the track “Party Clown”: “I was a beetle floating in a bottle of red.” Lewis says, “And in my mind, after that, I say to myself, I was Ringo.”

How exactly does one get a former Beatle to play on their record? Lewis still isn’t sure. “Again, magic. May I redirect you to the magic of life and when things are truly serendipitous. It felt like a glitch in the simulation when we were in a room with Ringo. How did I end up here? I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but it happened. Why? Why? It’s crazy. I've met some cool musicians over the years, but that was tippity top.”

If there’s a major running theme to my conversation with Lewis, it’s this idea of happy chances surrounding On the Line, from the collaborators and recording to, as I’ll later find out, the look of the album and, as she’ll later find out, a surprise connection in the promotion of it. Considering a lot of the record’s material appears rooted in her breakup and mother’s passing, that maybe wasn’t applicable to the initial inception of the lyrics. But the strange fortuity even extended to her LA home almost becoming a set for a major movie production while the album was being made.

“There was a knock at my door one day about a year ago,” Lewis tells me, “and it was the location scout for Quentin Tarantino, just randomly on my street. And, he was like, “Hey, do you mind if we come in and take pictures for Quentin? We’re looking for a location for the [Charles] Manson movie.””

Tarantino’s 1969-set Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, starring Margot Robbie as Sharon Tate, alongside Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Al Pacino and the late Luke Perry, is due for release this summer. “I was like, “Come right in, photograph my house!” It didn't work out, which is probably for the better because to have a murder scene in your bedroom is probably not a good idea, but that would have been the coolest thing that ever happened. I'm such a deep movie nerd.”

Being an LA native, I wonder if Lewis still gets starstruck at all at this point in her life. “Not by musicians,” she says. “I think if I were to meet Bob Dylan, that would probably be the exception. But maybe not, I don't know. I feel very comfortable among our people. I met Bill Clinton once and I wasn't nervous at all, and I asked, “Is it okay if I take a picture of you?” Because he's a musician.”

As someone 14 years her junior (Lewis is 43), I tell her my only reference for Bill Clinton being a musician is a moment of him playing a saxophone in the opening credits of the ‘90s Warner Bros. cartoon series Animaniacs. “The best show,” she says. “Did you see Daffy Duck on my live special?” Lewis being signed to Warner Bros Records is presumably how someone in a Daffy Duck costume was among the guests in her telethon. “Daffy was such a dick. They’re rebranding Daffy for the millennials, where Daffy’s vaping. And they were trying to pitch me on a sort of a co-branding opportunity for myself and Daffy. He's gonna come out on tour with me, Bez-style. Daffy’s my Bez.”

Remembering that a sequel to the Looney Tunes movie Space Jam has reportedly been greenlit, I express horror that an onscreen vaping Daffy could soon be a real possibility. “Wow,” she says, “Space Jam. What a movie.” This would rank rather high on a list of quotes I wouldn’t have expected to get from this interview.

We spend a minute or so wondering who else among the Looney Tunes would probably vape. “Is Taz too fast to vape? Maybe Porky Pig. No, no, not Porky Pig. He’s a little uptight, Porky Pig. Daffy’s cool because he doesn't know he's the way that he is. And he thinks he's like Bugs Bunny. He thinks he's Bugs. I think Bugs might vape. I could see Bugs vaping. I don't condone vaping, by the way. I don't think you should smoke anything that smells like cotton candy. I wouldn't vape if I were you. I feel like we don't know. We just don't know. There's a giant question mark on vaping, in general.” We conclude that Foghorn Leghorn would vape.

"I have the most incredible friends who are very patient and loving and are always there for a late-night Facetime session if I need them. When you're in a relationship, it's harder to maintain those friendships."

Be it with Daffy Duck or Beck, Ringo Starr, producer Shawn Everett and others, Lewis tells me a love of collaboration is one of the things she’s learned from making On the Line. “I just followed the songs and I pull from the people that I'm hanging around that inevitably become my collaborators because I can't not play music. I have a problem. If you come over to my house, it's just an immediate jam.”

That said, she doesn’t think she needs to rely on people. “I believe now that I can go anywhere with my songs and work with anyone and make something that makes me happy. I tend to get caught in the process of making a record where I want more from someone, or I want more of their time or more of their energy, and I feel like it's them and not me. But really, they're my songs and maybe it's less about who I choose to work with. It's easier to deflect, especially in the room with someone who's an artist in their own right. I can like feeling small and in the background when I'm creating in that way, as there's less pressure, but sometimes you’ve got to just step up and be yourself.”

“Autonomy, that’s been the key thing learned,” she continues. “I've connected with my female friends over the last couple of years and I've made a lot of new female friends, and that has really been one of the best things that's come out of being single in the world and autonomous. I have the most incredible friends who are very patient and loving and are always there for a late-night Facetime session if I need them. And there are three of us who live in Los Angeles, where we are just communicating constantly with each other. When you're in a relationship, it's harder to maintain those friendships.”

To quote one of Lewis’ own lyrics for Rilo Kiley’s “Breakin’ Up”, it feels good to be free.

One of Lewis’ longtime friends is photographer and director Autumn de Wilde, who shoots for all of her solo projects and also shot the material for Rilo Kiley’s Under the Blacklight back in 2007. “Once I finish the music, I send it to her and then we start brainstorming and we come up with a colour palette and a concept. We never really know until we know. Like how the songs find me, I think that visual component also finds me. We prepare to get there, but we never know what the actual cover is going to be.”

This time around, constructing the visual component involved a couple more instances of that serendipity we’ve already talked about. If you were to place the two covers of The Voyager and On the Line next to each other, you’d be forgiven for thinking the latter was an outtake from a shoot for the former. The outfit’s not the same, but the crop of Lewis’ upper frame, with her head missing, is almost identical. But, according to Lewis, this was another happy accident that revealed something about the new record, conceptually: “Autumn just did a quick Polaroid with that crop, testing the light, and it fell to the floor and I saw it and I knew that was the cover. At that point, I realised they're bookends, The Voyager and On the Line.”

The front cover of On the Line features Lewis in an outfit she describes as something that her mother would have worn in the late ‘70s in Las Vegas. For a deluxe edition of the vinyl version of the record, the cover unfolds to a poster-size image of Lewis in the full outfit, head and lower half intact from merging that original Polaroid crop with a full-length outtake. “That [deluxe] cover is a reference to an Isaac Hayes record, Black Moses,” she tells me. “And the outfit that I'm wearing on the back of the record, with me on a horse, is one of Isaac Hayes's stage costumes that my friend gave to me right before the photo shoot. Just randomly. And so, there's this deep Isaac Hayes connection that was unintentional. Again, why? I have no idea why.”

"Instagram has been really the first social media that I've engaged in personally...but I do feel like it's a very dangerous world to be in and the less I engage, the happier I am. It's really fucked up on there. It's bad."

There are many meanings behind the album’s title, she tells me: “I think it will be relevant for people to think about what it means to them. It's such a dumb thing to say ‘relevant.’ I don't know what's relevant to people, but we spend our lives communicating via text and it's really hard to detect tone. I mean there are so many meanings here, but really just waiting around for someone to change or come back and they're not going to do either.

“Taffy” features one of the most overt nods to our relationship with devices, with a snapshot of infidelity glimpsed through looking through someone else’s phone: “I wanted to please you / My dress was see-through / as I looked through your phone / I am such a coward / but how could you send her flowers?"

“Instagram has been really the first social media that I've engaged in personally,” she says. “I started it as an artistic outlet for weird, abstract short films during The Postal Service reunion tour. It really was a personal creative outlet that then became like a social network. And then of course, putting out albums, there's expectation to fold in a promotional aspect. So, I use it mostly for that, the creative thing being first, and then the promotional stuff. It’s hard to navigate without feeling super cheesy, especially when all your friends are looking at everything that you post. But I do feel like it's a very dangerous world to be in and the less I engage, the happier I am. It's really fucked up on there. It's bad.”

In light of the social media discussion, I can’t help but bring up an interaction of sorts that we had via Twitter once before. In the run-up to the release of Star Wars: The Force Awakens in autumn 2015, having just learned of the name of Adam Driver’s antagonist character, I tweeted: ‘Is Jenny Lewis still the frontwoman of Kylo Ren?’

I didn’t tag in Lewis’ Twitter handle for this dumb joke, but a few hours later, I discovered she’d somehow seen it and retweeted it, and my notifications went wild, with fans and famous folk alike chiming in with reactions and replies.

“Oh, that was you?!” she asks without a second’s pause after I simply quote the tweet, before mentioning what happened around it. “I remember that because I've never seen Star Wars. And I thought, who is Kylo Ren?”

I tell her it was a funny experience to suddenly be getting notifications of likes, for either my tweet or the creative fan-art replies, from such accounts as Warner Bros. Records and actor Brie Larson.

“Daffy Duck is on your case now… vaping,” she says of the Warner appreciation. “But isn't it weird that we have that connection and I didn't know that was you until you told me, but I remember it distinctly?” To quote her own earlier musings: may I redirect you to the magic of life. |

[cottage-inthe-woods]

5 Ways to Celebrate Lughnasadh/Lammas

The first of the harvest festivals, the weather is still hot as fuck but autumn is almost here. Thank the Gods!

Lammas always has a way of sneaking up on me, with the end of summer vacation, school starting, soccer season, dance season... at least I had the last 8 weeks to try and get my shit in order before I have to go back to work, which we all know is a lie, my shit will never be together. However, I can pretend to be one of those amazing mothers, that decorates for every holiday, bakes fresh bread, and dusts her altar more than once every few months. Heh.

1. Set the mood by listening to Traffic’s John Barleycorn Must Die

“John Barelycorn is another European grain character, one that causes a bit of confusion over the use of corn in some modern rituals. Corn, to Europeans, means any kind of grain, so Barleycorn speaks of the barley grain, not what we usually think of as -corn- today, which is native American maize”. -Willow Polson, Sabbat Entertaining

2. Change your altar to reflect the first harvest festival of the season.

lalunasa - Lughnasadh Ceremony 2014 @ Ace of Cups : The witch cafe

Lughnasadh Coorrespondences

http://www.sacredhaven.ca/rowan-morgana

3. Bake bread from scratch.  The art of bread baking connects you with an ancient tradition that dates back thousands of years.  If you’re new to bread making, try a simple recipe, and if you’re an old hand, up your game by getting really creative.  Don’t forget to make a small offering loaf for the altar.

 3 cups all-purpose flour                   

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt                                                                    

1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast                                                                    

1 1/2 cups very warm (but not HOT) water

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together your flour, salt, and yeast. Add the water and stir together until a sticky, shaggy dough has formed. For this, I like to use a bamboo spoon with a wide, flat end on it – I scrape the floury bits off the sides of the bowl as I go, and I press the dough together with the back of the spoon, helping to evenly hydrate all the ingredients. It should take about a minute or two, just until all the ingredients are evenly incorporated together.

                                                           Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and set aside to rise overnight. I like to put my bowl in the (unheated) oven, to prevent any drafts from chilling it.

                                                           I typically let my dough rise about 12 hours, but you can let it go as long as 18 hours. When the surface of the dough is dotted with large bubbles (see below), it is ready to go!.

                                                           Lightly flour your countertop, and then remove the dough from the bowl. It will have a very sticky consistency, and will stick to the sides of the bowl of a bit – like a giant wad of gooey gum. Just drag your hand around the edges of the bowl to release the dough, and you should be able to get the bulk of it out of the bowl easily.

                                                           Place the dough on the floured countertop, and fold it onto itself just a couple times, to press the air out. Cover the dough with your plastic wrap, and allow it to rest for 15 minutes.

                                                           When the dough has rested, it’s time to form it into a ball. Sprinkle a small amount of flour onto the top of the dough, and then work it into a ball with your hands (basically, you want to sort of gently tug the sides of the dough and tuck them under the ball of dough – the top and sides will look smooth, and the bottom will be kind of rough. I hope that makes some sense). This should take only about a minute – lightly dust flour onto the dough as you go, if needed, to keep it from sticking to your hands – you shouldn’t need much at all. At this point, the dough will still likely be a little… loose. It won’t be a stiff ball of dough – when you set it down in the counter, it’ll likely spread a little and lose it’s shape a bit – that’s okay.

                                                           Once your dough has been shaped into a ball, lay a smooth, clean, cotton dishtowel down on the counter and dust it with a bit of flour. Place the dough (smooth side up) onto the towel. Dust a bit of flour onto the top of the dough, and then cover it with another smooth, clean, cotton towel.

                                                           Let the dough rise for 1-2 hours, until it is about doubled in size, and if you poke it with your finger, it DOESN’T immediately bounce back.

                                                           About 30 minutes before the dough is ready, preheat your oven to 475°, with your dutch oven (with the lid on) inside. One small tip – if your pot has a plastic knob on the lid, wrap the knob in foil to keep it from potentially melting.

                                                           When the oven and dutch oven are good and preheated, carefully remove your pot from the oven, and remove the lid. Slide your hand under the ball of dough, and flip it over into the pot (so the smooth side is down). Carefully put the lid back on, and put the whole thing in the oven.

                                                           Bake for 25 minutes with the lid on. After 25 minutes, remove the lid, and bake for another 10-12 minutes until the crust has turned deep golden brown.

                                                           Remove the pot from the oven, and then carefully remove the bread from the pot – I typically keep one hand in an oven mitt, and then use a flexible spatula (like a fish spatula) to slide up under the loaf, and help lift it out. Place the bread on a cooling rack (or just on the grates of your stove) to cool – anywhere that air can circulate around the entire loaf.

                                                           Allow the bread to cool for at least 1 hour before cutting into it.

                                                           And that’s it! I know it SEEMS like a lot of steps – but once you’ve baked this bread one or two times, you’ll realize how simple it really is. It basically takes about 4 minutes of active work, and a whole bunch of waiting – but you get a beautiful, delicious loaf of bread in the end! Perfect for sandwiches, making croutons, dipping into olive oil, or just straight up devouring as is. You WILL look like a fucking rock star after making this!                                                  

Photo by Girl Versus Dough

4. Get Crafty

For the Martha Stewart types, try your hand at these beauties.

Corn husk and lavender sachets...

During the late summer, particularly around the Lammas season, corn is in abundance. It’s everywhere, and if you’ve ever picked fresh corn straight from the fields, you know how delicious it tastes! When you pick your own corn - or even if you buy it from your local farmer’s market - you typically have to figure out what to do with all those leftover husks. You can use them to make a corn dolly or a husk chain if you like. Another great way to use them is by making corn husk herb sachets.

You’ll Need

Several corn husks

Dried herbs of your choice

A hot glue gun

Weave the Husks

Trim the ends off the husks, and cut them into strips - I find that about 1/2” - 3/4” in width is the most manageable size. Weave several strips together as shown in the photo (I used five going in each direction, for a total of ten). Once you’ve created a square, use your hot glue gun to anchor the stray edges into place, so you have a nice even edge.

Add Your Herbs

Fold the square in half and glue the short sides together, creating a small pocket. Fill the pouch with herbs of your choice, and then hot glue the long open edge closed.

To give your sachet some magical mojo, select herbs based upon purpose and intent:

Healing: Apple blossom, lavender, fennel, chamomile, sandalwood, wintergreen, peppermint

Money/prosperity: Bay leaf, basil, chamomile, Buckeye, myrtle, apple, sunflower, pennyroyal

Love: Allspice, apple blossom, catnip, lavender, clove, yarrow, marjoram, basil.

Strength: Oak, acorns, bay leaf, thistle, yarrow.

Once your glue has dried you can place these sachets around your house or in your drawers. The corn husks will dry naturally, and you’ll be left with scented woven packets. If you like, decorate them with a pretty ribbon, some berries, or other seasonal items.

For the rest of us, perhaps we should stick to something like this...

Color Wrapped Wheat

For step by step instructions: http://inspiredbycharm.com/2015/11/diy-color-wrapped-wheat.html

5. Make your own smudge stick and cleanse the hell outta your shit!

Floral + Sage Smudge Sticks

white sage cedar lavender roses or any other herb or flower that dries well. cotton culinary twine

Directions:

The instructions are pretty basic here: Bundle together your herbs and flowers in a pleasing way. Wrap tightly with cotton twine and wait til dry.

Or if you’re working with dried ingredients already, disassemble an existing sage smudge stick (look for a high-quality one with large leaves still in tact, not one that looks crumbly already). The leaves will already have a shape to them so let their direction inform how you’re adding new bits and how you ultimately tie it all together. You can let the sage be the outside “wrapper,” since the leaves are the broadest of the bunch. Add springs of dried cedar, lavender, roses, rosemary or anything else you have on hand (maybe even some palo santo wood?) to the center of the bundle. Then carefully close the bundle together in your hand and wrap with cotton twine.

The leaves must be completely 100% dry to burn so it’s best to wait until you’re sure.