#I'll probably come up with some more revisions by morning

[quaintii]

The CEO

A/N: the strip club scene from the movie, "Alice" and my dirty fantasies made me write this. I stood up for 4 hours revising this over and over so if there's mistakes, pls comment 😭 Hella long too 😭 word count is prob 4k?

Contents and warnings: breeding kink, hair pulling, choking, spanking, blackmail, remote-controlled vibrator, workplace setting, very very filthy smut <3

HEADER CREDITS ARE @mmadeinheavenn

Summary: You worked as a secretary to your CEO for a couple of months now and he was very cold to you and everyone else. You have a secret: you work as a stripper in a prestigious strip club.

You work at Alchemax main building, you're a main secretary for Miguel O'Hara, the CEO in charge. You always greet him with a happy energy every morning, though he doesn't bother to return it back. You find him very cold. You try refusing that you didn't want to take a bite out of him or for him to break you because of his tone and stern glare whenever his eyes would meet yours. The tension between you two was thick. But you ignored it. You still kept your composure whatsoever whenever you would glance at him being furious, he would lash out his anger back at you whenever a meeting didn't go through. Deep down, you enjoyed the degradation, rushing hot blood to your cunt, pulsing."Ms. L/N, seriously you have to keep up with the latest specific studies, you can't keep coming in here turning in reports that were beyond due! Are you sure you're staying focused on this job, Ms? I will have to fire you if you dare make me lose another opportunity for growth of this company." He said with an angry sigh. "Sorry, Mr. O'Hara, I've just been busy with personal issues lately and I don't mean to push aside my work, ever! I'll make sure to meet your expectations next time." You say with confidence. "Okay, one last try. Or you're fired. Get out of my office."

He said while keeping his eyes on his computer. You nod and excuse yourself, walking towards the door, he turns his eyes to your body. Eyeing you up and down. He once again sighed angrily. He wanted you badly even since you first walked through that door. He would jerk himself in the middle of the night, wanting to thrust inside your pretty cunt til you were cock-drunk. Wanting to feel your hot walls wrapping around his cock, sucking him in like a vacuum. Begging for more. He couldn't stop thinking of you. On the other hand, you still push through his grumpy side, just for the money. Besides working this job, you have a small side hustle to gain more money. You wouldn't say you're greedy, you're just meeting your own needs. You thought to yourself if you possibly had an exhibitionism kink…probably.

At midnight, you work at a high prestige strip club, teasing men with your lascivious body. You wore almost nude outfits, begging to be ripped off your brown skin. Tonight you were by far exhausted from the calculations from work, and working as a stripper helped you ease down. You would keep your identity hidden with a wig and do your makeup a different way. You placed on your blonde wig in the dressing room, you wore some black and red lingerie that was decorated with soft silky satin finishes. It was completely exposing, besides your nipples - which had nipple covers on them, hearts to be exact. One of your companions on stage came up to you, "Hey girl, guess who we have today?" "What? Those musty middle-aged men again?" You laugh off. "No..we have a vip here. He seems really hot." She giggled. "Penny, you know that VIPs wear masks right? How could one be hot while wearing a masquerade mask? I'm pretty sure you're just bluffing, don't be a tease, babe." You said while sighing. "Whatever you say, just giving a heads up that I'm going to take him tonight." She said with a squeal.

You were waiting in line for your turn to perform, though things changed as your boss said you had a pole stage all to yourself. "You're one of my favorites and I think you'll lure in the VIP, this is very big for this company, so do well." He said and walked off. Only the best could perform on this stage, as a teen you practiced a lot of flexibility and dancing. Who would've known it'd taken you here, at this moment. As you walk past the curtains, you lean by the walls, posing yourself. You walk slowly to the spotlight by the pole and do some spins and a split, opening your legs to your clothed cunt towards the audience.

Lots of woahs echo in your ears, afterall you were the best one here. You tried to remember what the chick from earlier said, you kept trying to find a man with a masquerade mask but you couldn't. Until you faced your eyes towards the low, lighted bar. He was focusing on your body and face. You sneakily changed your position to face him, swaying your hips to the song, seductively going lower and lower. You raise yourself by your legs hanging on the pole, doing some twists. The man takes a sip of some alcohol then signaling you to come towards where he was. You finished off your show and a lot of groans were heard. As you approached the man in the mask, everyone's eyes were on you. You finally see this man's figure and he was towering. You almost stumbled back because he seemed so frightening. He grabbed your wrist harshly and headed towards the vip lounge rooms. To the last row at the very end is where you were taken. "Quítate la ropa," he said with a grating tone. (Take off your clothes.)

You disobeyed him as it did seem too fast for you, so you did a little teasing. You faced your ass upfront to his crotch. Straddling him slowly with your hips. You heard light groans but nothing more than that. You figured out a way for him to get more pleased. You started giving him a lap dance. Moving your ass upfront to his face. Arching your back on the table that you laid on top. You would move your hips to the side, still teasing, but you stopped as soon as you heard a rough voice whispering in your ear, "No me hagas eso muñeca, yo no la haría si era tu. Quiero ver tu coño." (Don't do that to me doll, I wouldn't do that if I were you. I want to see your cunt.) He said while nibbling your ear. Shivers were sent down to your spine, doing so, you removed your panties and spread your legs at him. "Feliz?" (Happy?) You said in a low tone. "No, quiero que volteretas tu coño y culo a mi, corazón." (No, I want you to turn around and face your pussy and ass towards me, love.) He said with a grinning smile.

Those nicknames drove you wet to your core a bit, so you decided to push his limit. "Y que me pasó si no lo hago casó?" (And what will happen if I don't listen?) You said giggling. You suddenly gasp as you keep his bodyweight laying down on yours onto the satin sofa, feeling his crotch, a huge bulge against your ass. "No te va gustar mucho, amor." He rubbed his hips against yourself, you pushing your ass to his hips, hoping to relieve some friction on your cunt. He moved himself and slapped your ass harshly. You yelp out a moan. "¿Quién te dijo que puedes hacer eso? Yo soy quien mando, cariño. Te gusta eso?" (Who said you could do that? I'm the one in charge here, love. You like that?) He said while snickering softly.

You turn your head around and nod slowly. You bite your swollen lip, your cunt now dripping in slicked wetness. The mysterious man then placed a finger, moving them to your clit. You moan in relief. "F-fuck, please fuck me sir, please…" "Look how wet you are for me..you're such a dirty slut." He said while landing another slap on your ass, making you jerk forward and whimper. "Turn around for me." You do as he said, biting your lips, hoping for something exciting. That is until you notice his mask is off, and your blood runs cold. Your face burns up with embarrassment and you covered your cunt with your hands. "Mr.O'Hara, I didn't know it was you, how did you even find me here, I-i." He placed a finger on your lips, quickly shutting you up. "I know everything about you. Here, take this and wear it tomorrow for the presentation. If you don't, I'll have to fire you for moral turpitude. Looking like dirty, fucking, slut at night and working at my office in day like a good girl." He said, whispering into your ears.

His hot breath and voice once again sparked fire down your core. He quickly left you alone in the lounge room, leaving you to your own rapid thoughts. You couldn't stop hyperventilating from what just happened, you can't afford to get fired! Your whole record would be ruined for doing something so indecent. You couldn't hate yourself more than right now. Round the corner, a red box catches your eyes. You proceed to open it and it's a remote controlled vibrator, though the remote, you assumed, he had. You placed the pieces together and realized you had to wear this to the next presentation meeting. You couldn't let your record get ruined, let alone knowing your boss telling others of what you do at night. You had to face it and put up with it.

The next day, you kept staring at the vibrator. You were nervous, sweat droplets spreading across your face. What if it falls off during the presentation? What if someone could hear the vibrations? You kept wondering about so many endless scenarios about the 'What if.' You took a deep sigh and placed it in your cunt. It was cold against your warm pussy. It felt quite uncomfortable. As you walked to Mr. O'Hara's office, you couldn't gather the courage to even knock on his door nor look at his face after last night. But you did so anyway. "Here are the reports for today, Mr. O'Hara. I made sure they're all good for the presentation soon." You said timidly. "Perfect, thank you Ms. L/N, I hope you remember what I told you last night. Let's see how well you do today, if you fail I'll just have to fire you." He said with a cold tone but with a hint of amusement. You audibly gasped and faced him. His eyes already magnetized onto yours, eyeing you up and down.

You felt yourself getting aroused again, his sculpted features drew you in further. Your mind brings back how his crotch felt against your hips, he was rock hard and it felt heavenly. "I-I made s-sure of that, Mr. O'Hara." You kept stumbling over your words, causing you to scream inside. "Great, you can head out now." He said while grinning. Still eyeing you. You excuse yourself and quickly get out of there, you felt like there was no air in your lungs, you placed your palms on your face wondering how bad this could possibly go. You cursed under your breath.

The presentation was starting, Mr. O'Hara was doing the first couple of slides then you had the rest to yourself. Unfortunately, the presentation was 10 slides long. Many prestigious men entered the room, greeting one another. You sit by Mr. O'Hara's chair, his chair being right in the middle in the very back, facing the board. About 20 minutes pass, and it's your turn to present. "Welcome to Alchemax, I would like to provide you guys with an amazing proposal that would benefit both sides of our companies." You said while switching your eyes with the representatives and Miguel. You see something shift in his suit, and you jolt as you feel the vibrations on. You almost stumble on the floor by the unexpected vibrations. "Sorry about that, probably something I ate this morning. Stomach ache!" You say trying to brush off your jolting. You start with your first slide, glaring at Miguel whenever he would turn on and off the vibrating.

Your cunt was dripping wet. You wanted more vibrations even if you were to embarrass yourself right now and risk your job. You tried your best to pay no attention to how Miguel's eyes would light up dark red, giving you an erotic stare. As if he was unclothing you with his eyes. Watching you break all over something small, he wondered how badly you'd break around his cock, using your body like a a slut you are. As you kept speaking, the vibrations kept increasing which caused you to stutter multiple times. "Excuse me miss, is something ok?" Asked a representative. "Oh I'm sure it's just nothing, don't worry." You smile softly. You then glare at Miguel, for embarrassing you during your big project. But deep down, you enjoyed it. You coughed and continued your presentation. The vibrator started fastening more, your clit becoming sensitive as time went by. It felt like the slided wouldn't come to an end, you felt wobbly to your knees.

You tried your best to not fall and keep your professional composure. Small tears streaked down your cheeks, you had hoped they were unnoticed. You felt like coming until it finally stopped. You let out a small growl, staring at Miguel in dissatisfaction. You were finally done with your presentation which felt like ages. The moment you sat down, Miguel increased it to it's highest speed. You jolted, your nerves and blood rushing through your system. You let out a stifled moan, and proceeded to play it out as a cough. Now that you're sitting, the vibrator is hitting your clit even harder. You felt like the pleasure was going to leave you unconscious because it just felt so good. You had half-lidded eyes looking at Miguel, begging for him to stop but he just smirked at you. You bit the inside of your cheeks, drawing out blood, you kept holding in your moans and breathing heavily.

You felt like your eyes were rolling back to your head. You just rested your head on the chair's head support. Your throat felt like it was about to let out a loud moan and you choked on your saliva. You couldn't hold it in anymore, so you hurriedly left the room and ran to the bathroom. Miguel still kept the vibrator on it's highest setting which made you stumble on the way onto the floor the moment you made it to the bathroom. You placed your arms on the sink, holding yourself up as you felt your cunt pulsing and spasming around the device, finally letting out your moans. Your legs were wobbly and you finally came.

Your breathing became unstable-like, you tried your best to regulate it back. You started at yourself in the mirror, how could you do something so foolish and be caught up in this situation? You pulled off the device and flushed it down the toilet. You finally thought it was over and you could keep your job. That is until you open the door, Miguel immediately barging in and grabbing your waist towards his chest. He closed the door behind him. "God you should've seen how you looked squirming, princess. You looked adorable, you're such a good girl y'know? You should be rewarded." "Miguel, please let this be over…" You gave out more moans as he massaged your breasts. "Todavía no, cariño. Te quiero conmigo, quiero usar tu cuerpo y saber tu precioso coño.." (Not yet love, I want to be with you, use your body and taste your pretty pussy.)

He gruffed as he sucked onto your neck. "Mhmmf.. M-miguel, please…" You whimpered out. "Be a good slut for me, do that for me." He grabbed a hold of your throat, lifting towards his face. His eyes lit up with lust. Your brain was starting to fog up. "Si..Miguel..mmhgfm fuck, please fuck me Miguel." You say with a strained voice as his fingers grip your throat tighter. "Tenga cuidado con lo que pides, amor. Porque ya no puedo detenerme más." (Be careful with what you ask for, love. Because I would be able to hold myself back anymore.) You jumped and wrapped you legs around his waist and hips, his arms holding you up as you wrap your hands around his neck.

The both of you kiss hungrily each other, as if your life depended on it. Both of your lips finally left go to breathe. You stare at his lips and eyes with your lust filled, low lidded eyes. "Miguel, put your cock inside of me, p-please.." You whimper and suck on his neck. He leans his head back and he groans which makes your cunt pulse. "Sé una buena chica para mí, cariño. Quiero que me la chupes. Dios, tengo tantas ganas de cogerte ahora mismo. Mira lo que me haces muñeca.." (Be a good girl for me, baby. I want you to blow me. God, I want to fuck you so bad right now. Look what you do to me doll…) You obey and go on your knees. You lower his zipper and his boxers.

His cock springs out, the base is dark brown while his tip is a pinkish brown. It was leaking with pre-cum, begging to be sucked on. You kitten-licked the tip - teasingly by giving it small kisses on the head. Miguel looks down at you, he could barely control himself to the point he wants to throat fuck you til you can't breathe. You then take half of him in your warm mouth, swirling your tongue around his length. He grabs ahold of your head and leans back on a wall, keeping himself standing. "Mierda.. tu boca.." (Fuck.. your mouth.) He cursed under his breath. You hollow your cheeks and you take more of him as your throat relaxes. He reluctantly bucked his hips, causing you to choke. You loved how his cock tasted, how it felt full in your mouth. You started fastening and Miguel lost full control.

He grabbed your hair and bucked his hips harshly. Hid hips spasming."F-fuck your mouth feels like heaven, amor. Fuck you're taking me so well…such a dirty slut." He moaned. You looked up at him with teary eyes, the sound of sucking echoed. You were squirming and pressuring your thighs together. When you moaned, he loved how tight your throat would get. You felt that he was about to come so you hollow your cheeks even more. He looked down at you, and he finally pumped his semen down your throat, it felt hot and bittersweet. You finally detach your mouth from his dick but licking all of him clean.

It caused something in Miguel to completely break. He grabbed you up and removed your skirt and panties. He bent your back, you arched it even further as he slapped your ass harshly, making you jerk forward. He placed you In Front of a tall mirror. "I want you to look how I fuck you..how good I fucking make you feel. No one will ever make you feel this good. Your pussy is fucking mine." He says while biting on your shoulders with his fangs. He removed all of his clothes and removed your top. "Look at your fucking tits, all of me. Mierda..." He drew out blood and sucked it dry. He lines up his dick In Front of your cunt, teasing it. You couldn't wait anymore, you were too desperate for him to pound you without mercy. Making a complete mess of you til you couldn't walk.

He pinched your perked nipples, making you shiver and bite down on your swollen lip. You look at the mirror, he keeps eyeing you, he would never remove his eyes off of your body. He slapped your ass and moved his mouth to your breasts. Sucked them like it was the last time with you. You let out loud moans."M-miguel please, I want your fucking cock inside of me..please I want you inside of me so bad. P-please..f-fuck." You whimper. He smirked devilishly. "Where do you want me, cariño.." He huffed out. "Inside of my fucking pu-." You were interrupted as he slams his cock inside of you, keeping a steady pace, your throat chokes continuously on your moans, it felt so fucking good. All of the air in your lungs left, you felt him touching your insides. Your cunt pulsing and squeezing him while he pulled out and thrusted into you even harder. You placed your hands onto the mirror, gasping and moaning.

Chanting Miguel's name incoherently like a prayer. You wanted him to ruin you, you wanted to be his cum dumpster. "F-fuck mmhfm m-miguel please stop..s'too much. Fuck..aughmmhffm…" You moaned out in gasps. "Look how slutty you look, taking in my cock so good like a good slut. Such a good girl, your pussy keeps sucking me in princessa..f-fuck.." He moans. He grabs your throat, making you face yourself In Front of the mirror. Your mouth was agape, eyes rolled back to your skull, making erotic sounds that caused Miguel's cock to harden even more. Both of your bodies were sweating and heaving, making the room atmosphere thicken. You were so cock-drunk, your brain couldn't form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

The only thing you could think was his dick inside of you, deep. You arched your back even more, allowing him to dig deeper inside of your warm pussy. You felt like you were going to fucking collapse by the amazing pleasure. That was until he pulled out. "F-fuck.. I want everyone to see what a dirty slut you are." He huffed and kissed you hard. "M-miguel, what if someone sees us." You said with a worried tone. "Don't you like that? Don't you like to be seen being fucked by me, all inside your pussy, amor?" You nod and whimper. "Y-yes Miguel.." He opens the bathroom door and heads to his office, gathering all the clothes and placing them on his couch. Fortunately, no one was on the floor. He grabs you by the throat, gripping it harder. He slammed your body onto the desk, causing paperwork to fall but you couldn't care less now. Your face and tits were planted on the cold desk, sending shivers down your spine.

Miguel pulled your hips upward, making you arch. He used his fingers to separate your lips and see your glistening cunt. He inserted his fingers inside your pussy and you moaned. He took them out to taste them and he almost came from it alone. You tasted so sweet, like a forbidden fruit. Your pussy pulsated and clenched around nothing, begging for some attention. "Miguel I want your cock inside of me again, please.." You whimpered. "Be a good girl and wait." He licked your pussy up and down and rubbed your clit. You stretch your neck, feeling so good and moaning that your voice was so strained. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt forward. He then grabs you by the waist and pushed your body against the sky high windows. "I want everyone to see how good I'm fucking you..you like that don't you?" He said while smirking. "Y-yes Miguel please fuck my dirty pussy already. Fuck me til I can't breathe." You groaned.

He slammed into your cunt once again, suddenly making you let out a loud strained moan. You kept cursing and yelling his name. Your moans would only get louder as he rubbed his thumbs up and down on your clit, pressing on it hard. His other hand pinched your nipples while his mouth landed on your neck. Your back arched back to his chest, causing him to reach your soft, squishy walls that you thought were unreachable. You could barely control your body's weight. Miguel grabbed both of your hips and bent your back even more. Your face against the window causes it to fog up. His cock slammed harder inside of you, deeper. His claws deepened on your hips. He slammed up into you at a much faster pace than before, hitting all the places he knew you loved. “Eres mia... Mia y mia solo,” (You're mine, mine and mine only.) Miguel whispered into your ear before kissing the skin below it.

His voice had lost its cold underlining, whining out as his hips stuttered. Miguel's hips rocked still before he let out a soft sigh, his cum painted your walls perfectly. You writhed under his large body, riding your own orgasm as he continued to rub your clit. Coming down to a stop you sighed as your body shook at the intensity. "You're my little cum slut, aren't you? Yeah you like it when I fill your pussy up with my cum don't you?" Miguel slowly pulled out, shoving his fingers into me immediately, making my back arch. He pumped his cum back inside of my pussy. You collapse from overstimulation. You wake up a few hours later on a soft bed. An arm wraps around you. You felt warm and cared for. You look up and see Miguel sleeping. He looked beautiful. You want something to happen between the two of you and hopefully become a couple. You moved closer to him and placed a kiss on his cheek and he suddenly placed one on your forehead.

[prettygirls-grave]

restarting ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

this is mostly for myself, but i'm in dire need of a life restart. if anyone out there is feeling stuck, unmotivated, tired, or depressed, like me, this is my little guide to slowly get out of that era. if you find it useful, yay!!

slow goals- these are my "starting point" goals, because setting unrealistic expectations for myself as fallen through sooo many times.

read 20 minutes per day

practice math 2x per week

exercise every other day

meditate (manifest, or positive affirmations) every morning

do something for myself daily (journal, go for a walk, hobbies)

document life daily (upcoming series on this blog!!)

final goals- these are my big, long term goals

have my desired appearance

have a consistent and fulfilling routine

get into my desired school

enjoy life

love myself

be at peace

progress in speaking croatian/italian

month 1- healingˋ°•*⁀➷

from february-march 20th, my goal is to focus on maintaining happiness and loving myself. i will achieve this through daily affirmations, slow routines, gently implementing habits, focusing on the positive, and limiting negative media consumption. this month will be about laying the groundwork. right now, you & i aren't doing the best, but with gradual changes in our miserable routines, we'll be feeling better!!

month 2- progressingˋ°•*⁀➷

from march-april 20th, we'll be amplifying our current routines (probably will go more in depth when we get here) we'll be spending more time on our most important goals. for me, i will revise and practice math for 1 hour every day, have daily language lessons, and venture out of my comfort zone. the most important aspect of this month is consistency!

month 3- set in stoneˋ°•*⁀➷

now it's roughly april 20th! (the dates are just my personal timeline, but are flexible ofc) it's been 2 months of consistent routine, and results are showing up! this month for me will getting on the education grind- making sure i've learned everything in all subjects this year, revising, practicing, and learning more. for this month i want to grow myself in terms of knowledge.

month 4- finale!ˋ°•*⁀➷

june 20th! it's almost summer, school is nearly done, and my school's enrollment is coming up. right now, we're probably used to our routines, and we're feeling goooood! reward ourselves, but final school revision should be happening. i'll be using this month to feel fully confident in my knowledge of math, and other subject's that will be on my school's enrollment. by now we've got our summer bodies, so maybe change up your appearance!! finish this challenge strong <3

»»———— ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆————-««

for each quarter, i'll post a more in-depth guide as to what i'll be doing. this guide is obviously tailored to myself, so change it up if needed! i'll also document my "productivity" every day to hold myself accountable.

i'll also post some more detailed posts about the manifesting i'd like to do along the way, and other self development thingies.

guys i'm not a self-help girlie, but this is just my little journey attempting to exit depression. of course i'll post about my other silly little interests.

enjoy!!

[dazed-poltergeist]

The Scholar & The Assassin

Pairing: Arno Dorian x Reader

Warnings: None in particular.

Summary: Arno makes the Reader take a break for once as they prepare for an important assessment.

Add. Notes: I'm quite sure I have said this before, but I'm sorry if any of the Assassin's Creed characters I write about are out-of-character. I only have access to ACIII and ACIV: Black Flag, and honestly? I prefer playing first-hand instead of watching a playthrough on the internet. Now, watch me try to figure out the entire internal structure of Café Théâtre solely through Fandom Wiki screenshots-

>✉️<

{ Dude. I planned to write this in May/June to celebrate the end of the school year. I was like "why not?" and started writing the piece at the start of May. The problem? It's fucking August. I finished it after three fucking months. I'm afraid I finished this only because I felt obligated to. }

-Eero, August 2023

Masterlist ✧⁠*⁠。

"You have been working for quite a while. Can you take a break with me?"

Arno's spontaneous request caught you off-guard. You were a scholar preparing for the final exams created by your institution, and you now realized you had been studying in the memento gallery the whole morning.

"I probably should, I completely lost track of time." You responded to Arno, as you dipped your quill in the pot of ink sitting on your workspace. "Give me a moment to finish writing this down, I'll come with you in a bit."

"Will you? Put the quill back in the ink pot and simply go out for a bit with me." Arno insisted, but added with a chuckle: "It won't grow legs and escape while we are away."

You giggled at his remark as you got up from your desk. After a stretch, you cleaned up the quill and closed the lid of the ink pot. In the process, Arno left the gallery to get some more practical clothing for you.

As you were changing into the clothing Arno had brought you, he asked; "Do you know any places you want to pass by as we are out?" "I don't have any in mind," You told him, and added a question of your own, "You were the one who wanted to take a walk, though. Don't you have any ideas?"

"It never hurts to ask. But yes, I thought of going to the Café's rooftop, and it looks like that's where we are going." Arno stated, as the two of you began walking in the direction of the gallery's exit.

Once you had entered the balcony, you noticed that the weather had improved from the last moment you had taken a break. The Sun had come out and the winds had calmed down. Perfect weather for relaxing on the rooftop.

Arno swiftly climbed onto the roof, then turned to you and offered you his hand to help you up. You took it, and with a little struggle, you managed to get on the rooftop as well.

As the two of you moved away from the edge of the roof, you realized how much you envied Arno's skills as an assassin. Your inexperienced self was trying to keep up with him while he moved like he lived on the roofs.

Arno gestured you to sit next to him once you had made it to him. You obliged, and told him: "You need to teach me how to climb like that." "Like what?" He playfully questioned. Without a pause, you clapped back: "Like a roof hermit."

The man next to you burst into laughter at your blunt response. He took a moment to calm down, but finally he explained: "Learning to move the way I do takes years of practice. It's not something you can learn in one sitting. "

You sighed when Arno told you the truth about his skills. "At this point, I am probably too old to become an assassin," You told him. "You told me of a few assassins before. All of them were already related to the Brotherhood when they were children."

All Arno could do was agree with you. He was associated with the assassins since his childhood as well – his father was one.

Neither of you didn't want to dwell on that anymore, so you leaned against him, and began explaining the topics that you were revising before he offered to take a break.

He enjoyed listening to you talk about the things you studied, as you were passionate enough to dedicate a few years of your life to learn even more about it.

Arno realized shortly after that you were technically back in the state before the break – revising. He was sure to bring it up: "Wait a second! We are supposed to be taking a break from reviewing all that!"

[lailawinchesterr]

part eight, maybe let’s not flip the dinner table [jensen ackles]

series masterlist | main masterlist

eight,

Tuesday morning i make breakfast for me and Rachel then she heads out and I let out an exhale, thankful. i have too much going on to have someone around me right now.

The rest of the day I cover different chapters of the module, walking around my apartment with the flashcards in one hand and stickers in the other (my mum used to do it so it became a habit to add a silver star whenever I ace a flashcard). 

It doesn't take long until I'm done, and by 'long' I mean it only took the whole day. I'm not sure when the last time I ate was, but I finished over 12 hours of work and I've practiced and watched my lectures and am absolutely wasted. 

Rachel texts at the end of the day to make sure I'm okay and actually studying, to which I respond with a picture of my crossed off to do list. Everything I wanted done for the day is completed so I settle on relax with some takeout before my phone pings with a text.

   We on for tomorrow?

   Yeah, why, what's up?

Jensen never struck me as the type of guy to ask if we're 'still on' for plans. 

   Didn't know you had an exam

Fucking Rachel.

   Who told you?

   Does it matter? 

   Yes.

   Jared said you told Gen you were stressed

   for your exam this week. Is it after we meet

   up?

   Yeah but it's nothing, I've already studied,

   I don't mind going out. 

   You sure?

Now it feels like a father lecturing their child. Rachel was right, this age thing isn't easy. 

   Jensen if you don't want to go you can

   cancel.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but it isn't fun being undermined. Although he's right, I probably wouldn't cancel unless my exam was the day after, still, no one wants to seem like a kid. 

   What?

   Are you trying to cancel?

   No, but I don't want to take up your time if you're busy. 

   I'm not, I'm looking forward to going out.

I can't believe I said that, not that taking it back is an option. 

   Me too. I'll see you tomorrow.

I bite the skin around my nails, tapping my foot on the floor to get some kind of release. Obviously that was rude and he was just trying to be the incredibly thoughtful person that he is but i don't like how he's implying that i'd just let him run all over me... whether that's the truth or not is irrelevant.

With that low blow, I decide to plan the rest of my day tomorrow, my outfit for Jensen's date, and the topics that need to be revised, I even planned out my two meals of the day. Maybe it won't go badly, maybe there'll be time tomorrow to finish everything.

+

My alarm decided to take a long vacation this morning so I woke up three hours later than decided. So at ten in the morning, which only gave me so much time to finish revising my module and get ready, the grind began.

I sat at my desk, determined to get everything I'd planned done in time even if I started late. I start with the notes I had to redo, more lectures, practice questions. I do it again and again then I start on the new module for next week's exam. I'm only a few chapters behind when it's lunch time and because I didn't have breakfast, I jump off my desk and heat up the rice and salmon I had prepared yesterday. 

After lunch I get a text from Jensen asking if he should come pick me up and I tell him it's fine, it's only two in the afternoon but he's already thinking of me and it's the sweetest frickin' thing. I’m probably blowing the text out of proportion but still, it’s charming.

I would love from him to drive me back and forth but it would make me feel guilty beyond belief, so i decided to it's better to walk for ten minutes, besides, I wanted to get there a few hours early so I could spend some time studying in the cafes next to the bar. 

"Gen," I whine into my phone, looking through my closet again. I had picked out my most flattering white jeans and a blue flow-y top to go with it but when I woke up, the jeans are soaked. I don't even want to know how (though my upstairs neighbor who’s over sixty and forgets that's she can't just throw her water over the balcony might have an idea).

"Lils, you need to calm down—"

"No! Don't say that. I had everything planned out, down to what I was going to eat today and then nothing went right. I didn't finish my revision, I don't have my outfit, I didn't have breakfast and didn't even get to finish my lunch! I'm frickin' panicking over here!"

I hear the soft laughter on the other side and i frown further, "Jared if that you I'm going to—"

"No, sweetheart, not Jared." That's great. That awesome. That's amazing. Spectacular even. Incredible. Why wouldn't Gen have me on speaker for Jensen Ross Ackles to hear? Why wouldn't she?

"Sorry, babe, I didn't know you'd rant before I even said hello."

"And stopping me halfway wasn't an option? Even mid sentence at any point?"

It's Jensen's voice that speakers up this time, "Then we couldn't find out what's bothering you and fix it. We can push the time back?" I hear some rustling and assume he took the phone from Gen as his voice comes closer to the microphone and becomes clearer. "Make it eight or nine so you could finish the work you wanted to get done. I already told you we can push it back—"

"Don't want to. Eight works."

"Okay, that's good. We'll get drinks at eight, and lunch now."

"What?"

"You said your favorite's sushi, right?"

"Yeah, ages ago, Jensen."

"'It change?"

"No but why?"

"DoorDash. Besides, sushi is easy to eat while you're studying and you don't have to waste time on cooking either." That's cute but also slightly inconsiderate because I am a med student with loans so high you couldn't look over them to see my future, that's the whole reason I walk everywhere, so him making me pay for my lunch when I could've easily made it doesn't sit right with me.

"You there?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Jens. You’re honestly amazing." I hear a chuckle before there's more shuffling that covers up his next words then "—take care of yourself." And the call ends. 

I get back to my desk only to notice that the whole reason I'd called Gen in the first place, my damn outfit crisis, hasn't even been resolved. 

   Don't worry, I got it covered. 

   Your clothes.

Is he really a man? Why would Danneel ever leave him. He's done nothing but be considerate, then sweet, then downright incredible. He's thought of everything when I couldn't because of how stressed I was but he still let me do it my way, by going on the date with him. I didn't want to let that part go, I want us to get the awkward first date out of the way.

Fourth minutes later i hear my doorbell ring so I grab some cash, hoping Jensen hadn't spend more than fifty dollars, and open it. A young man hands me a bag with the logo and writing, sushi bar, and then another white bag with nothing on it. I ask how much and he quickly tells me it's already payed for.

My first thought is, thank God, I'm too broke for this. My second thought is, holy shit Jensen just brought me lunch, to eat on my own. It's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done in the history of the world even if he intended for it to be totally platonic. 

I open the white bag to see my exact favorite pair white jeans, just a size smaller, probably to fit Genevieve, and a pink top that's not too similar to mine but at least it looks comfortable. It's not the outfit I wanted so desperately to wear but it's close enough. So I finish my food while doing my hair and makeup, then I get dressed and notice that this size is way better than mine (meaning I might never return it to Gen). 

I put on my boots, grab my book bag and head out. It's only six when I head out and by the time I arrive, order my coffee, and start studying again, it's seven. 

I get hardly any work done, between thinking of all the ways I'm going to embarrass myself, and how insanely attractive Jensen Ackles is, I've managed to cut my study time to three minutes, maximum. 

My phone rings and my heart immediately jumps, beating way faster that it should be at this point. I let it ring for a few seconds so I can calm myself down and not sound like a two year old before answering, "Hey, Jensen." God why do I sound like his secretary.

"Laila, you ready? I'm on my way."

"Yeah, I'm already here."

"You are? Didn't wanna waste your time, I could've drove you. 'Sides I'm still ten minutes away."

"Take your time, I'll save us a booth." He agrees and tells me to take care again, and then ends the call. I move from the café to the bar down the street where we agreed to meet. I get a table and usher someone over. I'm not exactly sure what Jensen drinks but since I order myself a cherry cola, I get him a beer. She asks if she should start a tab and i hand her my credit card, praying my parents are asleep right now and not getting any notifications. I know I'm an 'independent woman', but I'm also someone with serious money spending issues, if they didn't keep me in check all the time I think I'd actually go broke.

Speaking of, I go to text my mother before I see someone's hand on my shoulder, soft and inviting. I look up and see none other than Jensen, white jeans jacket, similar colored shirt underneath, and loosely fitted jeans. I stand up and smile, greeting him with a kiss on his cheek, though I never actually get close enough and he pulls me a little closer so we're almost touching.

"Hey, Jens."

"You looks great, Lils. I hope that means you liked it?" I feel the blood rush to my cheeks as I sit back in the booth, opposite to him.

"Loved it. Thank you for being so thoughtful, honestly, I mean I could've found anything other—"

"No, I'm glad it worked out the way it did. You eat?" I nod again taking out my phone to show him the multiple pictures I snapped of both myself and my sushi filled plate. 

"Honestly, best shit I've ever tasted. You should try it." He chuckles, nodding. 

"Yeah, used to go there all the time. Best place in California. Nothin' beats the Texas barbecue though."

I roll my eyes and pull my phone back from him, crossing my legs under the table, "You'd think barbecue is the best."

"It isn't?" He teases, almost amused. 

"Hello? Sushi exists! Texas doesn't stand a chance against sushi. And anyways, 'S not fair cause you're from Dallas. If you had to pick any other dish, what would it be?"

Only God knows why I am both speaking and asking questions right now but Jensen seems pleased, quick to fire back Mexican, to which I respond with Nah, too close. 

Our drinks arrive and i thank the waitress and shoo her off quickly before Jensen tries to take out his credit card. "Started the tab with mine," I explain when he looked at me confused, he nods and holds his glass, then examines mine. "You don't like beer? I'm sorry I just didn't know what to get you and I had ordered for myself."

"No, no this is great. I'm just curious, not a big drinker?" He nods at my coke and i shrug, sipping to avoid the topic.

"We used to stock up on cherry colas whenever you came so I'm guessing that's your drink of choice?"

"Always. I don't think I've ever passed a day without it." I take another sip and he looks at me in this... way. His green eyes, crinkles on the side giving him an old time look. And his hair. He really grew it out this past year, I could almost see Jared in him at this point, it's really distracting and... beautiful. Though I'm sure Bob will have him cut it any day now. I notice that I'm staring and quickly push my drink towards him, "try?"

He takes it from my hand, our fingers brushing, and sips from the same straw I was just using three seconds ago. His expression says it's good but I think mine says 'fuck me'. It wouldn’t be far off from what I really want.

"I can see why you like it. Too sweet though."

"So's your beer," i retort way too quickly, defending my comfort drink. But I didn't mean it in a mean way, I'm sure he knows it too cause his expression's all taunting now and I don't like it.

"You tried it?"

"Don't drink." I smile tightly for a second. I walked right into that one.

"How'd you know then?"

"Dan mentioned it, said she likes it cause it's sweet enough for her taste but not too sweet that you don't like it." I didn't even know beer could be sweet. In my defense, I don't know what beer tastes like.

"Yeah, her main focus was on making it sugary, told her we could make a sweet one that isn't our main product but she wouldn't have it." I laugh a little with him but i also notice the light in his eyes dim a bit and his shoulders slumping. I don't think we should talk about Danneel today.

"She knows what the public likes," I shrug but decide to move on quickly, "what do you like most about your beer?" 

The conversation doesn't end the whole night and it's honestly refreshing. Overthinking is my speciality so when we don't stop jumping from one topic to the other, I have less time to focus on that. He's also really sweet. He's asking about everything I wouldn't tell another person about me but in the most non invasive way possible.

Dan mentioned you moved from egypt. That must’ve been hard. Why’d you leave. Where’re your parents?

You never talked when we first met, can't believe how fast you got on with Jared. How are you, Jared and Gen so close? 

"Yeah. I don't know, Jared's always been so...open, I guess. I'm very closed off and to have someone that both accepts that and also tried to help me with it, it definitely made me like him the second we met." He nods, checking his phone for a second. Probably the time. "Is it late? Should we head out?"

"No, no, that's not—" I think he notices that the question wasn't for his sake, but for my shivering body's, and he smiles. "You cold?"

"Nah," I play it off, leaning back in my chair though I'm still hugging myself and have abandoned my second cherry cola for the night. "I'm good. Hot as a bee."

"As a bee?"

"I don't know, okay? I'm shivering!" He chuckles and tells me to stay put, that he'll be right back. Five minutes later he's walking up to our booth, telling me to get up so we could leave.

"But my—" he hands me my visa and I smile, placing it in my wallet. Right as we're at the door of the bar he shrugs off his jacket to places it on my shoulders. My pink sleeves are visible as i hug the jacket around me and i smile up at him, he's walking me to his car and i quickly notice, shaking my head. Not wanting to assume, I quickly say, "bye, Jens. Thanks for today."

"Hm?" He seems confused as he open the passengers door.

"Jensen..." he already opened the door and I don't wanna seem rude but—

"Laila? You comin' in?"

"You don't have to, Jensen."

"I know. I want to. C'mon." I sigh and enter the car, letting him close the door behind me. I decide putting the jacket on right quickly before he makes his way to the drivers seat of his white BMW, which by the way— frickin' gorgeous.

"You know the way?" He asks as he starts the car. I still feel really, really guilty.

"Yeah, sure, it's only down the street. I could've walked." He looks amused and starts driving.

"Wasn't gonna let you walk anyways." I feel the heat rush to my cheeks and I turn on my phone to distract myself. I see notifications from Gen, Rachel and Adri. Then my mum who I didn't talk to today. But... no message from my bank.

"That's weird," I mumble and Jensen makes a  sound that I took as him questioning me, “I don't see the charge from the bar. It should've sent a message."

"Didn't charge your card." I quickly leave my phone to look at him. "Gave 'em mine."

"Oh my God!" I roll my eyes but he only looks amused.

"What? Did you think I'd let you pay?"

"You should've." I sigh. "Jensen you're like paying for everything. You got me new clothes—"

"They're Gen's. I thought you'd know that." 

"Obviously I know that, but I mean you had them delivered to my house, that costs money. And the bar. Only thing I paid for today was the coffee."

"What coffee?"

"I was studying at a café on the opposite street. I came a few hours early. Anyways, Jensen, please don't. You don't need to pay for every single thing. I know I'm not an actor— stop here, that's the house," he does park right in front of my apartment, "I know I'm not an actor, but I'm fully capable of—"

"Hey, what?" He puts the car into park and faces me. I start to take my seatbelt off.

"I know I'm not as good as the rest of you, like of course I'm not, I'm a student, but—"

"Laila, that isn't why I'm paying. I'd do it whether you were an actor or not— or if you had or don't have the money. It's cause we're going out."

Right. Like on a date? Instead of asking, though there's nothing more enticing, i let the silence take over. Then, "Yeah, I know. You're just nice like that."

"Is that a bad thing? I don't know if you'd rather pay next time—" next time? "But I don't think I'd let you."

"Yeah, it's fine. Still, thanks for tonight, you're honestly the most incredible guy I've ever met and I don't know why I really ignored you ever in the first place."

"We're all wonderin', sweetheart." We both laugh, the beer still clearly running through his system though he's only had two. I go to say my goodbye but notice how close we are. Way way way too close. Too too close. Maybe we should back up? 

"Laila," his voice's rough and slow and oh so seductive.

The car smells faintly of cigarette smoke and maybe that's what's Jens's scent smells slightly off too. Has he started smoking again? I'm not sure I can think logically like that right now because his hand is on my neck (how did it get there) and my breathing's erratic and his lips are moving closer to mine.

Not being able to take the tension and slow motion dance anymore, i lean in much closer to close the distance. "Jensen." I moan against his lips but I don't think it registers to him just how rough he's being because he's crashing our lips like it's our last time together, his tongue is exploring mine within seconds and I feel silly wanting to tell him that this is my first time now. 

Maybe he notices though, because only thirty seconds later our lips are disconnected and we're breathing heavily against the other though it wasn't that long, "Fuck, Laila, you're so good."

At kissing? That's a lie. "Really? 'Cause that was my first time, so..."

I see him straighten up, his hand slowly falling from the hold it has on my neck, "First what?" His hand is on my thigh now since I'm facing him by propping half my leg on the chair.

"Kiss."

"You're serious?" Nodding once, I notice how disheveled he looks. God, you'd think I told him he just took my virginity. Well, yeah, he would also be doing that.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper, hoping he'd hear me just enough, I stare at his hand on my thigh and feel stupid. God, this always happens. Anytime someone knows about me being a kissing-virgin they think I'm a prude or religious or something! 

I just haven't... I haven't had the chance. 

"Laila, no. Don't apologize." I almost do it again. "I'm not mad or anything just, should've told me. I mean, you kissed me."

"Yeah," I scoff. This is why I was so fucking scared. I know I kissed him first but he's saying it like he's accusing me. Like I'm a slut.

I've never even kissed anyone and the first time I do he's already looking at me like I kissed twenty men before him. My head's involuntarily shaking, saying no no no, and I try to open the car door. 

"Laila. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" I let out a huff of exasperation, "What’s wrong is that I'm sorry I did that, I can't believe I did that." I slam the door closed and walk into my apartment complex.

His car door opens then shuts back up with a loud smack as he walks over to me in a quicker pace. "Laila!" He sounds too serious for me to ignore him. Rachel was right again. I didn't stop because I care and I want to listen, I stopped because I was scared of him.

"I don't know what you think I meant by that— but all I mean is that I was surprised. Are you okay? Are you regretting it, is that it?"

"No, but you said it like I was stupid for letting you kiss me— or me kissing you or whatever. You make it sound like I gave you my virginity or something."

His eyes widen. "Lils, I didn't insult you if that's what you're getting at. And is giving your virginity up to me that bad?" He smirks a little and it eases my heartbeat.

"Not what I meant, you know that." I mutter but it's weak and he knows it. He nods and walks closer to me, one hand on each of my shoulders. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, please. I liked going out with you today, no matter how it ended. Do you want us to do it again?"

I nod. 

"Good, then we will. Stop thinking about everything. We had fun, you liked it. Stop torturing yourself, darlin'." 

"Yeah. Did you? Enjoy it, I mean."

He leans down to kiss my cheek, "'Course I did. Can't wait to do it again on Sunday." I smile so wide I can't even stop it if I tried.

"Me too." 

“Good.” He doesn’t let go and i look up at him through my eyelashes once before placing my hands on his face to force him to lean down and I kiss him again. I’m not sure what I’m doing— it’s only my first time, but I think I’m doing an okay job of moving against him. 

I’m sure he thinks the same way as his hands drop to my hips, pulling me closer. It’s only a few seconds but it felt like hours. When I let go of my grip on him and the kiss he smiles. 

“Sunday?” I nod, mirroring his expression. 

Our goodbye is so easy and quick it makes me forget that I still have his jacket on. 

And I only notice when I'm in my apartment, taking my (Gen's) clothes off, one or two hours later.

What I was doing in the time in between is irrelevant (since it consisted of texting Gen about every single detail except for the fact that I acted like a complete idiot at the end and getting her reaction then doing the same thing with Rachel and Adri).

It's almost two when I text him;

You get home okay?

You forgot your jacket.

Yeah, Lils, just fine.

And it's insurance that you'll come next time.

Pretty sure that'd mean you need to have something of mine. Not the other way around.

Nah, you're too nice to let my things stay at your place.

I laugh a little and send him a picture that I'm still wearing it over my pajamas (which are a green skin tight top and sweatpants).

Jeans and sweatpants?

Your jeans jacket is weirdly comfortable. I don't think it's jeans.

It isn't, much more comfortable, still looks good though.

Looks great on you.

Yeah?

Are we flirting right now? This hurts my head.

Well duh, I'm wearing it.

Not what I meant, sweetheart.

Maybe we are. I can't do this over text.

Okay and you're kind of hot in it too.

Kind of?

Didn't know you were so full of yourself, Jens.

Didn't know you liked my clothes so much that you're wearing them to bed.

I notice that I in-fact did send the picture with me in my bed. Whatever, no big deal.

Goodnight, Lils.

Night, Jensen.

part nine

guys okay guess which word comes to mind when I think of Jensen… omg, incredible you say? How’d you guess! Hahah I’m sure it was a lucky guess.

also incase you ever wondered I do have a face claim for Laila should I post it one time or does that ruin the way you see her? Let me know, maybe I can show her next chapter. Also, schools over, so hopefully many more series and more chapter of this one, to come!

@kr804573 @n-o-p-e-never

[shai-manahan]

Hi! It's been a while since I've talked about the upcoming updates, but I finally had a chance to actually sit down and make plans! (the life of a corporate slave, am I right? 🙃)

It has something to do with the changes I will be implementing on my patreon, though. I've thought for a while how to give content that's worthwhile of subscriptions while also making sure I can be comfortable with them, and in all honesty, I had a tricky time doing it. HM is too personal for me, as I used to talk about before, and some of the patreon benefits I promised before eventually felt too revealing - of my own thoughts and people whose lives were a huge inspiration for this story.

I will be talking about these changes and the update schedules as well below the cut.

UPDATES

I aim to finish at least half of HM's Book 1 this year. It seems to be a more realistic goal than forcing myself to finish everything right away (which tbh may have been a huge pressure I put on myself the past few years), though admittedly, things are unpredictable in the field I'm in; my job is full of overtime hours, and I spend most of my weekends trying to recover (or sick).

Still, I gotta finish it one way or another, and it's not going to write itself (though I wish it would!), so yeah, set realistic deadlines, pull out a few all-nighters, and maybe I'll actually get through it, who knows?

I do hope I'll have steadier finances by the time Book 2 starts so I can put more focus on writing and have sufficient energy for it, but that's a conversation for another day.

Changes in Prologue - Chapter 2

Okay. I know I promised not to make revisions until I write more chapters, but changing how some game mechanics work and reworking the stats made it a necessity, and I underestimated how much rewriting I'd have to do. A few scenes ended up not working well anymore, and I couldn't resist from revising a few clunky sections while I was at it.

Dialogue options were one of those that were significantly affected by the stat changes, but no worries, nothing is changed in the story -- meaning Wesley still fucks with the Ripper's life (oops), Richard still goes off doing whatever non-sus thing he's doing, you can still punch Bale (it's even a lot funnier this time), Bertrand remains a bitchy cop, and you'll still have your sad flashback with your former best friend/lover/crush or whatever they are to your MC.

The plan is to release the updated version of Prologue and Chapter 1 to patrons by the end of March (I will have a few days off work that week) and release it to the public once the new content is also ready, which I presume will be available next month (I will keep you all posted but I really hope I can get it done by then because it's been forever 🥲).

I might tweak Chapter 2 a little so the available portion can stand on its own rather than be divided into two parts, because it's just too long lmfao and is harming the pacing as I keep worrying about the length. I'm also incorporating a few suggestions a few folks gave me these past few months.

Succeeding chapters

I've probably said this before but things are bound to get more insane in HM once we're past the first three to four chapters. But also quicker to write in a way. They're the kind of scenes I thrive in, and while they have bigger variations, they're a lot more fast-paced, characters start being manipulative little shits, and the threats are more prevalent than ever. Your Ripper will not have a good time, but I certainly will (I say as I look at my outline and get sad doing it). There will be a few "breaks" in between, but this is not and will never be a light-hearted story. Anyway, I'm inclined to believe I'll be more consistent with updates when that time comes, so bear with me for now :')

PATREON CHANGES

This is getting long, so I'll just list the updated tier benefits and end the day with it. I'll be posting a schedule that I will be committing to (here and on patreon tomorrow morning), with the below details as well (so if you wanna stop here that's totally valid) but for now, here's the tentative list:

Tier 1

Early access - 4 days before a public update (this month will be an exception and you'll get the update as soon as the other tiers get it, too).

Sneak peeks and deleted scenes - I included the latter because apparently I delete a lot of great scenes

Hints for future revelations in the story - the categories will depend on results of polls; the hints may be about Bale's death, about Ripper's family, Pharos, Cyro, the ROs themselves, or the nightmares that the MC is getting, etc. Might be in form of vague conversations/dialogues between unknown characters, might be me dropping subtle info about those involved. Either way, it will be fun :). The polls and these hints will be given monthly.

Tier 2

Early access - 1 week before a public update

all the other benefits for Tier 1

monthly RO snippets - I'm still experimenting with this, but I might simply write MC x RO snippets (with different kinds of MCs for different scenarios because I deeply hate writing blank slate MCs, sorry)

a choice to see the POV of a character, decided through polls, for every chapter/update.

Tier 3

Early access - as early as it's available and goes through testing stages

all other benefits for previous tiers

Non-RO short stories

Previews on unintroduced characters :)

That's all for tonight! I am so tired lmfao but I hope you all are having a great weekend so far! See you tomorrow :)

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

Your writing is just *chefs kiss* it's so immersive and good!!! Anyway, can you do headcanons of Nacho x reader (Jo & Amber are out of the picture) who's a college/PhD student that works VERY late into the night because they have trouble stopping themselves from working?

"Just 10 more minutes" then it becomes 1 hour lol

And it's kinda unhealthy esp since they have to wake up for morning classes

Idk your rules or if you do headcanons, so if you don't, feel free to write a scenario instead!

Ignacio ‘Nacho’ Varga x Reader 

Ignacio 'Nacho' Varga x PhD!student reader HCs Request:

A/N: this was so fun to write, I'm going to write a few fics for nacho whilst I have the muse for him, so please send some soft, angsty, or even smutty requests in via the inbox and I'll check them out!!

BEFORE THE STORM:

First off, Nacho finds it cool how you’re a PhD student. When you first met, he asked you a few questions about it

You thought it was pretty strange, you were only at Manuel Varga's store to have the interior of your car fixed up… 

Though Ignacio was nice enough, and you had to admit very handsome 

He admires your dedication, he thinks it’s amazing how you manage to put so much work into something (this is, of course, before you’re dating and before he finds out how excessive work is)

You probably start as friends to begin, though I can imagine he’d ask you out as soon as the time was right. 

"Uh, when you’re free do you wanna go for a drink maybe?" 

You were silent. 

At first, he thought he’d screwed it, because of how quiet you were.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

"I’m sorry- I know it’s- I shouldn’t have asked-"

"Yes"

"Hm?"

"I’d love to go for a drink with you, Ignacio…"

A few months later, when you’re properly dating and an established couple, things begin to change. 

you spend more time at his home, staying overnight to keep him company (and for sus reasons… obviously) 

You usually watch movies, though recently you’ve been more and more invested in your work and it’s taking away from the time you have together 

That was a concern for him at first, but you always reassured him and made sure to make it up one way or another 

It was all fine until it started affecting your health. 

Recently, you've been sleeping a maximum of 3 hours.

You’d go to bed at 3 am and wake up at 6 to prepare yourself for your classes 

He’d grown more uneasy, noticing how you began to dissociate yourself and fall asleep wherever you could. 

He’d one time caught you in the bath half asleep, so he quickly helped you out and lay you in bed- only to then find you awake at your computer with a cup of coffee 45 minutes later

Now, we are at the present day... 

 He comes home, tired after another long and exhausting day. He feels like he’s going to pass out, but he doesn’t 

He walks into the small office you’d both set up, it wasn’t anything fancy, just something quaint that’d make it easier to revise 

Nacho sometimes regretted giving you the office, maybe then you’d sleep more

He finds you at the desk, hunched over a book and taking notes

You were so absorbed in your work that you hadn’t even heard him enter

“Baby, it’s 4 am” 

You’d turn and look at him, unsure of what to say- it probably takes you a minute to fully comprehend what he’d just said 

“Yeah, I know… I’ll be in bed soon, just another hour, okay?” 

He’d hum, frown and walk over to hug you from behind your chair, pressing a few sweet kisses to your collarbone and the top of your head. 

“I’m serious, you haven't slept properly in days, mija… “ 

You’d always deny it, but he was right. It was ironic how you’d be training for a doctorate and have your boyfriend school you on when to sleep

“I know… but I promise I won’t be long- look I’ll even set alarm”

He’d say goodnight, run his hands through your hair and then go straight to bed 

At about 6 am he hears an alarm 

he’s a bit freaked out at first, 

Though calms down when he finally recognises where it’s coming from 

He’d walk into the small office and find you lying atop the expensive wooden desk with your arms folded. 

He’d turn off the alarm and pick you up 

He’d then tuck you into your bed, lingering for a moment, his fingers brushing your hair from your face. He loved the feeling of your warmth

He loved to watch as your chest rose and fell at intakes of breath. 

Anything human served as a reminder that this was real and he wasn’t living out some elaborate fantasy 

After turning off all the electronics in the converted office area, he’d head back to bed and crawl beside you

You who are now fast asleep 

IDC what you say nacho is the best cuddler going. 

A FEW HOURS LATER… 

you wake up at about 12 pm 

At first, you're worried that you’ll miss a class- but then you remember your lecture was cancelled for today, and you breathe for a minute

Nacho is asleep beside you, an arm draped loosely over your body. You smile and shuffle closer to him, 

You trace the pad of your finger slowly from the bridge of his nose to the tip a few times

He’d always found that soothing

After about five minutes he slowly wakes up, opening his eyes to meet yours 

You smile and press a kiss to his lips 

“Buenas Dias, sleepy” he’d say, as you yawn into your hand and nuzzle into the crook of his neck

“Good morning to you, too”

You’d get up to move, but he’d hold you down and pull you closer by your waist

“Stay for a while longer baby… you’ve been working too hard you’re going to make yourself sick”

You’d just sigh and press your lips to his cheek

“I told you I’m fine Ignacio, honestly… you don’t have to worry”

“You’ve been sleeping less, eating less because of it- you’re the smartest person I know, y/n”

You’d just stare at him with your bright eyes, and he’d sigh similarly to how you had earlier 

“What I’m trying to say is I love you, but you need to know that you’re overworking yourself, you don’t need to overwork yourself the way that you do”

You’d just hum, eyes already becoming heavy just from talking, he probably is right 

“Alright… I’ll take it easy.. for you” 

“not just for me, for you, okay?”

You nod, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You place your hands on his chest and kiss him quickly

He tries not to smile like a lovesick idiot but he does 

“Now go back to sleep, we can order takeout later if you want- watch that movie you’ve been wanting to see”

“Alright… Goodnight nacho”

“Sleep tight, kiddo”

A/N: I'd die for him.

[lil-tachyon]

A New Year's Eve Tradition: One drawing from each month of the year

Below the break: the other New Year's Tradition where I go over my art goals from last year and reorient myself for the new one.

Another big year. Mixed results regarding my plans from last year.

Successes/Positives:

-Been doing art full-time for a full year now and haven't even come close to running out of paid work to do. Haven't had a slow week since I started so it's encouraging to know people are still interested in my drawings and willing to pay for them. Hopefully an indication that this is still a viable career path for me.

-Got a website and a newsletter up and running which turned out to be a pretty good investment of time what with the mess that twitter has become and how boring and unreliable instagram is.

Finished two comics this year! One for me, one for Spacewalk Comics, publisher of Holy West. Right now you can see them both on Patreon (and I'll throw in my book Coelum for good measure if you sign up). In total only ten pages, but comics have always daunted me so it feels good to finally have finished some. And I found that I actually really really like doing them, even more than I though that I would, so I want to build off that momentum in 2023.

-Got to meet and interact with so many great artists this year and that's always a pleasure.

Failures/Negatives:

-I was going pretty strong with teaching myself Blender for the first couple months and then completely dropped it some time in spring and have hardly touched it since.

-Likewise with some other experiments in painting and different media- was inconsistent in practicing them and became even less consistent as the year progressed.

-Aside from the two short comics, I barely worked on any big personal projects.

-Although I finished all my commissions on time I fell behind on some unpaid but important collaborative work that I still have yet to catch up on.

-In general, as the year progressed I found myself spending all my time trying to deliver commissions as quickly as possible at the expense of investing in my own artistic development or in completing any major works of my own.

-Although I haven't run out of paid work to do, I'm still struggling to bring in enough money to even make minimum wage and I'm only able to continue drawing thanks to the hard work and patience of my wife and I don't want all that pressure on her.

-In general, feel like I haven't made significant progress towards any long-term goal for the last half-year

-My poor musical instruments have hardly been touched this year :,(

-Lots of non-art things I wanted to do that I didn't even get close to

Goals for 2023:

-Get organized and stay organized. I do better when I divide my day into chunks and I lost track of that recently. Get back into that habit. Try to start each morning by going over goals for the day.

-Found that larger illustration commissions eat up a ton of my time and even with price increases have only recently started to bring in a decent amount of money. Will probably prioritize smaller commissions, be more strict about charging for revisions, and in general try to allocate more time for personal projects rather than spending weeks on other peoples' and not getting paid a lot.

-Spend more time drawing away from a computer. I feel like being in front of a screen with internet access all day for the last couple years has really eviscerated my attention span. I'm constantly pulling up new tabs of stuff to listen to or reference to look at it. I need to be able to focus. Probably draw some stuff that I can see around my room in the morning before even turning computer on.

-Finished up undisclosed, ongoing collaborative projects

-Work on a book. Got two ideas that I think are achievable, should narrow in on one by the end of January.

-Gonna try to make some woodblock prints this year. I got a printmaking kit for Christmas. We'll see how it goes. Whatever happens I expect to have fun with it :)

-Be more consistent about assessing and re-assessing goals. Try at the end of the week and end of the month. I think neglecting to do this is what got me so off-track this year

-Keep desk clean, room organzied

-Do more artist interviews. If you're reading this and have an idea for someone I should interview or we're mutuals and I haven't asked you yet, get at me.

Misc:

-Get sewing machine back in working order, sew some stuff. Need a case for my banjo, could try that...

-Read more books

-Spend more time outside

-Take train into city, draw at museums

-Be realistic about whether art is a viable career. Wouldn't kill me to go back into engineering and I do miss some aspects of it sometimes. The trick would be either to find a STEM job I actually enjoy or a low-stress part-time job...

Conclusions:

Thanks for sticking around, you guys are the best. No matter what happens I'll keep drawing this year and the next and on and on until my hands don't work anymore or I die. Happy New Year. Peace out. Best of luck.

-Logan

[paulgadzikowski]

Blog FAQ. Backdated to 2/22/23 from 2/25/23, mostly to see whether it'd work.

I was @heroofthreefaces for ten years. 2/19/23 that blog was terminated without notice or explanation and, at this writing, with no response to the resultant Support contact form sent. Then I was @d0ct0rwh0 for three days. 2/22/23 that blog was deactivated without notice or explanation. EDIT 3/27/23 heroofthreefaces was reinstated without apology or explanation; I elected to retain paulgadzikowski as my primary.

I'll write a proper FAQ here if this blog lasts long enough that the lack bothers me. Otherwise, I'm scarfman at Pillowfort and at Dreamwidth and heroof3faces at Twitter; and my webcomics are Arthur, King of Time and Space and The Hero of Three Faces.

EDIT 3/9/23 Okay, one thing I should probably mention even before I get around to creating a real FAQ is that I now have a sideblog for separating off all the activism and heavy matters reblogs, called @nosuchthingasaburdenonsociety, so that my main is safe for those who come to Tumblr to forget about life for awhile. Except the new text editor has this funny new quirk so posts end up on the wrong blog sometimes. These posts get tagged wrong blog and usually get reblogged onto the correct one where they are also tagged wrong blog.

FAQ: What do you think of the new text editor? I hate it so, so much

EDIT 3/23/23 Well this blog's survived a month. Time for a FAQ I guess. This entry and every entry on this blog are at all times subject to editing for updates, corrections, and simple clarity.

My name's Paul Gadzikowski and I draw the webcomic The Hero of Three Faces, fanfiction crossovers but it's comic strips with stick figures but they're triangles. For nine-plus years I also drew Arthur, King of Time and Space which functionally was, among other things, King Arthur mashed up with my fanfiction.

Every day that there's an update at Three Faces, the next morning at or about 10:00 (all times US Central) I post a link here to it, which gets pinned to the top of the blog. Every evening at 22:00 I post a link to a "rerun", a cartoon in the archives; the rerun only gets pinned during annual summer hiatus of new updates.

Also I post and reblog fannish things. Doctor Who is my favorite and the Doctor is the primary character in Three Faces, because I've always loved crossovers and there's no better literary and literal device to facilite crossovers than a time machine. The top tier in my pantheon of fandoms consists of all Star Treks, Superman and superheroes (these days more screen than print versions), M*A*S*H, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel, Star Wars, and Dracula Daily; but anything I watch and read may show up in Three Faces or here, and lots of what my Tumblr mutuals watch and read too.

As noted above I have the side blog @nosuchthingasaburdenonsociety. I can be inconsistent about parsing which posts go on which blog, especially now that the nusternucking new text editor defaults to whichever one where you last posted, instead of defaulting to your main like the old text editor did. And there are some serious topics which never did migrate to the sideblog, like racism in fandom and the coronavirus. Most posts are queued, on both blogs, unless I want to respond to something conversationally, or I'm trying to be the first with the joke, or I feel like it. Barring unusual circumstances I'm posting (firing my queue) 24 hours a day and I probably seem most active the day after I've been most active.

This is a list of my most significant personal tags. As a rule I'll try to use the same ones here as I did there in the same way, though there are a few cases where I took advantage of the opportunity to revise.

I don't have a my art tag like some better-planning bloggers have. There's no one tag that'll show you everything. Fancomics, sketches, cartoon reply, cartoons, and lotrh3f daily ought to catch everything on this blog. At heroofthreefaces you'll want the heroofthreefaces art tag FAQ.

fancomics Three Faces posts, new and archive reruns

fan art Three Faces posts (unless it's AKOTAS instead of one of my fandoms) and others' art that's fan art

other's art Fan art and other art, reblogged, not my art

other's stories Others' writing and fanfiction

my stories My writing and fanfiction

tumblr's stories Tumblr-culture stories, fiction and nonfiction

fanfiction Posts that are, or are about, fanfiction, mine or others'

art Professional or classic art

sketches My drawings just for Tumblr

sketching while scrolling My drawings while scrolling Tumblr (any of these will also be tagged sketches)

cartoon reply When I reblog with a comment but it's in the form of a cartoon

character reply When I reblog with a comment in the form of a cartoon where the character is making a direct comment on the post to my readers (any of these will also be tagged cartoon reply)

chat cartoon reply When I illustrate a chat posted by someone else in a reblog on their post (any of these will also be tagged cartoon reply)

cartoons When I post with a comment in the form of a cartoon reprinted from my old fanfiction site retired when I started Three Faces, or from AKOTAS, or that's just not a sketch or a reply

lotrh3f daily In the vein of Dracula Daily, a mashup of The Lord of the Rings and The Hero of Three Faces tracking Frodo's quest according to the calendar dates in Appendix B. See lotrh3f for commentary.

in my style Redraws of others' art in triangle style. Will also be tagged cartoon reply or one of the other tags listed in the catch-all paragraph above

arthur king of time and space, akotas Cartoons from Arthur, King of Time and Space or using AKOTAS characters, or general discussion of AKOTAS, or (obviously) reprints from AKOTAS

atumblr Discussion of AKOTAS surplus of discussion from the AKOTAS site, or cartoons new here not appearing at AKOTAS or Three Faces

hero of three faces Discussion of Three Faces

behind the scenes May be behind the scenes for my work or for screen franchises I watch

maintenance When I go back and change or fix something in multiple comic strips on the Three Faces site, like changing how I draw a given character's hair for every instance in which they appear

math I have a spreadsheet for tracking the chronological order of the comic strips at Three Faces, the chronology of the screen story cycles which appear there, and many other things about it. And one for AKOTAS

reader response My reblog comments on others' reblog comments on my posts and reblogs

friday night clearing out my drafts What it says on the tin

tags tag For tags I want to remember or keep from duplicating

llol "literally laughed out loud" I only ever tagged things "lol" if I literally laughed out loud before Tumblr so here it's a tag

tags later Something I didn't want to tag because it'd give the joke away, or that I put off deciding what to tag, or that I think I have a tag for that I can't find. Once a week I go back and tag any that are more'n a week old

spoilers I tag spoilers (or doctor who spoilers) (or better omens or best omens for season 2 or season 3 respectively of Good Omens, though that's also what I tag for those seasons generally) for the first week after air/publication/whatever. After the first week I don't trouble to remove the tags, if that matters. I also try to tag teasers (teasers and spoilers are different things, that's why there are different words for them) so if you also don't want to see teasers then you can block that too

tagging the crossover franchise would give the joke away What it says on the tin. Used when a Three Faces is first updated in the link post but generally not when it's later linked as a rerun.

wrong blog Here or on the sideblog this tag goes on a post or reblog that's ended up on the other blog than I meant, due to the conditions noted above in the edit dated 3/9/23. Sometimes when I discover the error I also reblog to the other blog, and sometimes when I do that I delete the original accidental reblog, and sometimes I just add the tag and let it go

I try to tag for others to find my posts but mostly I tag a post so hopefully I'll be able to find it again if I want.

Subject to further editing when I remember other things I wrote for the old blog's FAQ. Owait, now that it's back I can just link to it; check it out.

Thanks for reading.

[rosalinewintrell]

The Letter

You guys! It's Wednesday! I forgot what day it was! This isn't my favorite chapter, and I know it reflects in my writing, but I just couldn't figure out a way to cut it and make the next little arc make sense. There is a possibility I'll revise it in the future.

I hope you enjoy!

A few weeks later, Garreth and Rosaline were in potions together, though they sat at separate stations now. Things had remained comfortable between them, even if some of Garreth’s longing looks were more than simply friendly. He seemed to be keeping his word, about taking a step back, for now.

It saddened Rosaline a little. She had truly enjoyed Garreth’s company and his easy manner, but it seemed like this distance was something he wanted, or needed, in order to prove something to himself, and far be it from Rosaline to try and stand in his way. They were still friends, of course, it was hard to stop being Garreth’s friend once you began after all, but she couldn’t say she didn’t miss the closeness they had shared for a little while.

And now, to make things even more complicated, she had received a letter from her grandfather regarding Garreth’s concerns over the stock at J. Pippins Potions it read:

Dear Rosaline,

Thank you for alerting me to the questionable quality of the School’s closest potions shop—J. Pippins you said? I recall the name, but I remember it being such a well-run shop I never thought to inspect it before deciding to move you to Hogwarts.

I sent a proxy to look over the place last week and they indeed reported that the quality and quantity of the shop’s inventory was quite lacking. It is of great importance that we remedy this as quickly—and cordially—as possible. That being said, I am planning on moving the Family to the Ainsworth Estate for the Christmas Holidays so we might all go and see about this issue ourselves.

Before we do so, however, I would like to meet the young man who alerted you to the issue. I believe you said his name was Garreth Weasley? They are a good family; I am not surprised one of their ilk discovered what was going on.

Please prepare your friend to meet with your grandmother and I over Christmas break, along with one of his parents. It wouldn’t do to interview the boy without some support after all. I will send another owl once I have more details regarding our travel.

With Love,

GrandPapa

The letter had arrived two days prior, another containing her Grandparents’ travel had just arrived that morning and now Rosaline had no reason to put off telling Garreth. She wasn’t worried about his reaction, but she also didn’t want to interrupt his own plans for the Christmas break. She agonized over what she would say to him the entire class, her eyes glancing towards him as he concentrated on his own notes. She was lucky they were taking theory notes today. She might’ve blown something up otherwise.

She was able to catch him before he left the room, stopping him with a quick tap to his shoulder. “Garreth, could I have a moment?”

“Of course, Rosaline,” the Gryffindor said brightly, “Anything for you. Walk with me?”

She explained things as best she could as they walked, trying to stay quiet as they walked through the halls. She wasn’t discussing anything remotely secretive, but she still didn’t want people to know about her business. She was a private person by nature, and that was only compounded by her family’s political fame. “They’d like to speak with you and one of your parents around Christmas, if they could. If it won’t interrupt your holiday, of course.”

Garreth shook his head with his normal nonchalance despite the news, simply shrugging and looking down at her with a smile. “I’ll send a letter to my parents tonight, but it shouldn’t be an issue. I stay here Christmas usually anyway.”

“And…your parents won’t mind travelling?” Rosaline inquired. She really was concerned about upsetting Garreth or his family.

“Nah, especially if only one needs to make the trip. My Pops will probably come so Ma can stay with Emmeline—my sister.”

“You…really aren’t upset by this? At all?” She asked.

Garreth shook his head and shrugged. “What’s there to be upset about? If anything, I am absolutely ecstatic! I mean, your grandfather is a legendary Potioneer. I’m lucky to breath the same air as him, let alone speak to him personally.”

Rosaline chuckled and shook her head. She knew that Garreth looked up to grandfather, it wasn’t a surprise given the boy’s own passion towards the subject, and, in a way, that made the boy’s idolization of her grandfather less irritating. Most people admired him for his political status, Garreth admired him for his skill and ability. It certainly made their conversations about him more interesting.

“I hope he lives up to the legend.”

Garreth scoffed and stopped in front of the entrance to his next class. “If he’s anything like you, I know he will.”

And here they were again, in one of those moments where Garreth gazed down at her, such longing and affection shining in his eyes, smile wide and soft as he regarded her.

“Well,” Rosaline said, glancing over Garreth’s shoulder to see the room behind him filling with more students. “I suppose this is where I leave you.” She smiled softly.

“Oh, right,” Garreth said, shoulders drooping just a little. “I’ll catch you later, Rosaline!” He recovered quickly and his smile brightened as he turned with a wave.

“Bye,” Rosaline whispered, hand raised in farewell.

[newcedarsee]

Update from the last two days

I skipped posting for a day. I didn't have a chance to sit down and type out an entry.

Saturday was great. I woke up around 7:00 A.M. to get ready and travel to work. My girlfriend made me lunch, which was very nice of her. I caught the bus from campus. It was on time, which is always nice.

I worked from 9:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M. with one of my co-workers. She's a very nice lady, though she does tend to fall for right-wing conspiracy theories. This makes it really hard to talk with her about current events. I'll (foolishly) bring up something I saw in the headline and she'll instantly turn the discussion into something about Bill Gates buying up farmland in middle-America.

Other than that, her attitude toward the job is funny. She's old, and she's been doing the same thing her entire life. This has led her to be cynical about the job. She doesn't care how many smoke breaks I take or if I lay down for a bit. Working with her makes the job easy.

After work, I got some groceries. My fridge was depressingly empty. The university gave us rooms with kitchens, but the neighborhood it's in is a food desert.

Once I got my groceries I caught the bus back to campus. I did some chores, like taking out the trash and washing the dishes. I then went to visit my girlfriend. We spent some time together before I got a call from a few of my friends inviting me out to a club called Cavo.

I had never been clubbing, so I was a bit apprehensive about going. They somehow managed to talk me into it. About half an hour later, one of my friends picked me up, and we went to another one of our friend's house.

There, we met up with a few more of our friends, some of whom I heven't seen since high school. I suppose nearly everyone I knew from back then has started going out on the weekends with each other. We sat around on the front porch eating pizza, drinking tequila, and talking shit. After a while a few of us split off to go to the club.

We arrived in the Strip District (the neighborhood the club is in) at around 11:00 P.M. I loved it. The floor was crowded and the music was incredibly loud. These are two of the things I thought I would have hated the most. It was good then that a was incredibly drunk when we got there.

We left, and my friends dropped me off on campus. I then went on to spend the rest of the night with my girlfriend, cuddling and watching television. I love spending time with her. I have to songs which I love playing for her, despite how cheesy they are. Cool by White Reaper and The Purple Bottle by Animal Collective. We went to sleep at around 4:00 A.M.

I woke up Sunday at 11:00 A.M. with a swollen throat and body aches. I have been sick since last week, but a cold combined with a hangover is hell. I went back to bed and woke up again at 4:00 P.M. Again, I went back to sleep and woke up around 6:00 P.M. to a call from my girlfriend. She was concerned that I wasn't replying to her messages. We agreed that she would come down to my room to do homework with me.

Afterward, I was surprised by a new roommate. I wasn't expecting anyone, especially since I had not received an email from mgmt. I introduced myself. He seems cool; I don't remember his name.

My girlfriend came down at the time we agreed on. We did our homework, which for me was revising a paper, shooting and editing a quick video, and contributing to a group presentation. I was done with everything in around five hours.

When we were both done, we cuddled until 11:00 P.M. Now she's back in her room, probably asleep. I'm here, about ready for bed. I have a quiz tomorrow, so I'll be sure to prepare the coffee machine for the morning.

[gisellelx]

Faces

Carlisle x Esme 2200 words

for @needahugfromesme

Faces

Fall, 1934 Amherst, MA

It was an utterly ordinary afternoon. Rosalie and Edward had recently returned from university, and the sounds of their bickering rose up the stairs. Why the two of them did not find their peace elsewhere, she didn’t know. She might send them off to hunt, she thought. Perhaps in different counties.

Yet there was something familiar about the way the two of them had fallen into rhythm as siblings. Edward, older and younger brother at once. Rosalie, full of disastrously-won wisdom and always aggrieved, unwilling to listen to Edward’s point of view. There was no sign that they would ever be the partners Esme’s husband had once imagined, hoping that a woman might solve the same hole in Edward’s heart that Esme herself had solved in his. And yet there was a camaraderie in their arguments and insults, a rhythm to their family dynamic that somehow made it more whole. They were true siblings—occasionally quietly bonded over the latest news from Chevrolet, more often sniping like children about closed bedroom doors.

Carlisle, though—he was more difficult. Rosalie had snapped at him before he’d left for work. Her resentment knew no bounds, exacerbated by the knowledge that even in his moment of profoundly foolish savior-complex, he had been thinking of Edward, and the pain that still burned in his own heart, two years after their prodigal son had returned…

Esme wasn’t sure Rosalie would ever forgive him.

She wasn’t sure Rosalie should.

Her husband didn’t know how to relate to a daughter, Esme understood. His son had completed him so fully—unlocking with his gift the centuries of solitude which made Carlisle Cullen who he was. Like everything of importance Carlisle did, he had turned Rosalie it rashly, without regard to her effects on anyone else.

Rosalie was just strong enough to force him to pay the price for that.

Esme recalled her husband’s slumped shoulders as he exited the house after the latest round of berating from his daughter. The look in his eyes of utter defeat.

“She’ll cool off,” Esme had whispered to him hours before, but she hadn’t—as usual, she had taken her discomfort out on Edward. And as Esme listened to the voices reaching a fever pitch downstairs—a back and forth which grew increasingly intense but did not reach a point where she needed to intervene—she selected charcoal, her hand flying across the paper on her easel before she even knew what she was beginning. As so many times before, it was her husband’s face her fingers brought to mind. She had drawn him how many dozens of times in the ten years between the time she had met him and when she had awoken to this new life. The high cheekbones, the square jaw, the singular lock of utterly unruly hair at his temple which seemed to exist only to prove that there were some things Carlisle Cullen could never control. She had forced herself to recall those features over and over, to render them in more permanent forms—charcoal, pencil, oil pastel. Over and over she had drawn him until his face had been committed not only to the memory of her mind but also the memory of her fingers.

She had never planned to have a daughter. She had known, somehow, from the moment she felt the first strange sensation in her abdomen. Not a kick or a flutter or any of the things that her girlfriends had told her to expect, but instead as though some of her internal organs simply…flipped over. She had touched her own belly in awe, and had known right then, without thinking, that it was a male child. Perhaps a daughter would have softened her husband, but she knew, somehow, that a male child was in greater danger. That he would not be protected; that he would be pushed, that the expectation upon his barely-formed shoulders would be impossible. It had been that conviction that had put her on the Great Lakes train, whisked her to a state she’d never seen before,  and which later drove her from her cousin’s to the very northern tip of the country.

Then her son had been born, with his tiny squalling body and his perfect smell, only to be ripped away fewer than two days later. And she had reached out in despair and found not her son, but the gentle face she had sketched for  a decade, staring down at her.

Today, as she laid out the roughest of her husband’s familiar form, Esme was not fully aware that somehow, she had softened the beautiful severity of his cheekbones, that she had added subtle curvature to the sharpness of his jaw. But she had done so, and it wasn’t Carlisle’s face which was emerging.

It had been an entire year, now, that their family of three had been a family of four. And a scant single score of years that the hardened bachelor and his beloved son had welcomed any feminine presence into their lives. She had worried about being a bother to them both, and she knew, that sometimes, she was—the way Edward’s eyes would narrow from time to time, the way Carlisle shadowed him when he was upset.

And so she tried. She tried to reach to Rosalie. She tried to bridge the shared elements of their past, only to be met with the coldest of shoulders. This family, Rosalie seemed to say, was the world of the men. Rose hated Carlisle for his hubris, hated Edward for his gift, and if she didn’t hate Esme, it was only for Esme’s shared experience of these two things.

So, as she thought of her daughter, listened to bickering give way to quiet conversation, and then to silence, and then to the gentle chords of a sonata, the cheekbones softened, the jawbone became subtler, the high forehead became heart-shaped with a widow’s peak. The nose became thinner, the lips softer, and the single unruly lock of golden hair became dozens, spilling onto shoulders which sloped more gently.

It was difficult for vampires to get fully lost in work, and so she heard when the front door open and close. Edward was still playing, and wherever Rose had moved to—her bedroom, if the distance to her scent was to believed—she was quiet. So Esme knew that her husband was home even before she heard a briefcase drop gently to the floor and before the waft of smoked cinnamon made its way to her nose. She had a split-second to consider this fact before warm lips had buried themselves where her neck met her collarbone.

“What are you drawing,” her husband muttered, and she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“It’s never nothing.” He stepped back and appraised the easel, reaching out with one hand. She laid down her charcoal and smacked his arm playfully.

“It isn’t nothing. But I’m not finished yet. Go bother the children.”

He sighed. “They’re fighting.”

“They’ve been fighting all afternoon. It’s quieter, now.”

Her husband chuckled, pressing his lips to her neck again. “I apologize for leaving you alone all day with that.”  

She shook her head. “Edward plays impromptus when he’s angry with Rose. It’s good background.” It had been Fauré , today—the impossibly fast descending scales across the keyboard, sounding like water. Esme had never bothered to learn the details of classical music before, but now it was impossible not to—she marveled at times at the way her mind was able to store the names of styles and composers and even the actual beats of the music itself. She hadn’t cared, before, but with Edward, it became a thing about which one cared. To love Edward was to love his piano, and that meant that all of them learned to understand it.

“Give me another half-hour?” she asked.

Her husband nodded, kissing her neck again and then disappearing. The piano stopped mid-phrase, and she heard only one-sided murmurs which told her that Carlisle and Edward were engaged in one of their desperately intimate conversations. If she strained, she could hear them, no doubt, but she chose not to, letting her hand bring shape to the face whose provenance she now understood. She kept the long eyelashes, and the light-hued eyes. She made the lips ever so slightly fuller, and drew the slightest hint of a bosom at the bottom of the page.

It was longer than a half hour before Carlisle returned. From the subtle addition to his scent, it seemed likely he had been sitting with Edward at the piano, having one of their near-silent conversations. Edward could read Carlisle’s mind, of course, but after a decade and a half, it often seemed that Carlisle could read Edward’s almost as surely. They often sat in silent companionship, Edward plying, Carlisle listening, bonded by their thoughts and impenetrable by either Rosalie or Esme.

Carlisle kissed her before even bothering to look at the easel. She let herself fall into the kiss, the way her husband’s supple lips moved against her own. It was only several minutes later that he seemed to remember what he had intended to inquire after, and pulled away to appraise the drawing. His head cocked to one side as he gazed at it, his mouth falling open slightly in recognition.

He had revealed this sad fact in their very first conversation. She, half-delirious from the laudanum, he, trying bravely to keep his demeanor professional. Yet she recalled it with her hazy, opiate-influenced human memory, nearly with the same crystal clarity that he did. As she’d asked after his name, and after receiving his title, asked his first name, which he had, to his own surprise, volunteered.

“I’ve never met a Carlisle before,” she’d told him, and he’d only smirked.

“Nor I an Esme. One wonders why you are not a Mary, or a Margaret.”

And she’d returned his smile and his gentle banter. She had inquired where the unusual name had come from, and he had answered that perhaps it was his mother’s maiden name, and then she had asked after his mother, eliciting the same pained, faraway look that graced his features now as he explained how and when she had died...

“Not knowing what your father looked like,” Esme offered as he stared silently, “I wasn’t sure which of your features to subtract, but…”

The gulp was audible. “No,” her husband said quietly, “I imagine this is about right.” Another deep swallow, then: “What brought this on?”

She shrugged. “I’m not even sure myself.” Involuntarily, her right hand opened and closed, feeling the ghost of the charcoal still in her fingers. She sighed.

“Rosalie,” she said quietly.

Carlisle shot her a quizzical look.

“I suppose I was thinking about Rosalie. And how you left with her still angry.”

There were two stools in her studio, one before each easel, both unnecessary in the strictest sense, but they encouraged the right posture for sweeping her arm across wide paper or canvas. Carlisle pulled the second one near her and sat down, his lips suddenly pressed tight.

“She hates me,” he muttered.

Esme nodded. “Sometimes, yes. You don’t always make it easy for her.”

He thrust a hand into his hair, and the unruly lock fell through his fingers. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped with frustration. “I just want her to be happy.”

“You can’t force people to be happy, Carlisle.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “You’d think that after what happened with Edward, I’d know that.”

She laughed in answer. Two years on, their mercurial son was beginning to recover from his shame and anger. Gentler songs came from the piano more often than not, and every now and then, even an original composition. Slowly, month by month, arpeggio by arpeggio, he was coming back to them.

“I suppose…” she began. When she hadn’t finished her sentence a moment later, Carlisle prodded.

“You suppose?”

She gestured. She had drawn the woman with the same tired but indulgently kind eyes her husband had. Eyes that suggested that whatever the person being looked on was wont to do, they would be forgiven. They would be loved.

“You have a daughter now,” she said gently. “I thought it might be helpful for you to remember that once, you had a mother, too.”

Her husband’s thin lips pressed together even more tightly, and she saw his adam’s apple move yet again. She stood up, brushing the charcoal off her fingertips against her skirt as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She laid a hand on his shoulder briefly, then went down the stairs.

It was nearly two hours of listening to the piano later, watching Rosalie read and pretend not to care what Edward was playing, before Esme bothered to creep back up to her studio. The door was still open a crack, and the air was still thick with the smoked cinnamon that was her husband’s scent as she peeked inside.

Carlisle sat alone in the utter dark, his legs crossed, the moonbeams shading in through the window making his skin a translucent blue white as he gazed up into the portrait’s kind, pale eyes. Slowly, his hand crept from his side to reach out, the pad of his finger tracing the jawline she had sketched. And then it hung there, index finger outstretched, as though it was not the strong, assured hand of a surgeon but the beseeching hand of a child, reaching, desperately, across space and time.

Quietly, Esme pulled the door closed and went to find her daughter.

[egopocalypse]

hi eg!! for that ask game if you're still doing it, how about I J with gone away K L T U V and Z? (you don't have to do all of them of course >:D) (just ones you want to)

Blip, my beloved. <3 This got very long, so I'll answer one above the cut and leave the rest under it.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@livelymon Parental Rights author. The characterization throughout the fic and how Live balances each shifting POV is absolutely incredible. Plus, we got BAMF!Tubbo, the best Bedrock Bros reconciliation I can name in any fic (which I am VERY picky about), terrifying c!Dream, and Awesamdad. <3 I liveblogged several chapters of it to a friend (hi, kas) and ranted in the comments so often. Only a few fics have made me go on a rampage like that, and this one absolutely deserved it. I still go back and re-read that fic every now and again. It's beyond beautiful and a reading experience I look back on so fondly.

@skyestar7703 Living in the Circular. Need I say more?

No, but really, Living in the Circular is the best DSMP fic I could probably rec to anyone. It's the best balance of the different tones canon leans toward out of any fic I've seen. The worldbuilding is extensive. The characterization is immaculate. The hijinks and healing are brilliant beyond compare. The foreshadowing is so well woven into the story that I SCREAMED in the comments when I unearthed it in a recent re-read. It's a MASSIVE undertaking of a fic, and I love talking to Skye in DMs about it every opportunity I get. Genuinely something I recommend to everyone who follows me.

@seaswalllow Kas. <3

While Kas in general is enough of a reason, I can go on and on about his fics. I'm always in awe of his writing--from his gorgeous extended metaphors that feel like prose poetry, to his incredible worldbuilding and the time he puts into laboring over it, to his intense attention to detail that displays itself in every word. The fics Kas has been developing for at least half a year (if not longer) are heart-wrenching and so powerful just from hearing about them, and I can't wait until they unleash them on the world. Chasing the Sun and Hiraeth are going to demolish us, Halcyon is so beautiful and detailed that every interaction makes me weep, and Nicotine is just beloved (/hj).

None of these fics seem like they're talked about enough in the fandom (at least, from what I've seen). All three of these authors deserve more love on these fics, and I will continue to scream about them until they get it.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Oh boy, do I. The followers who've been around the block with me for a few years can tell you that at least 90% of what I've written has involved power imbalances in some way. There's something so intriguing about that exploring that type of dynamic between two characters. Will the one wielding the power succeed, or will the one they want to control resist for another day? How long until one of them slips? No matter who's in what position, it's a dynamic that has fascinated me for my whole life, and will continue to for a long time.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to Gone Away:

Tubbo never leaves the island. ;)

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

For the Dream SMP? The prologue of A Warden's Secrets. Overall? A short fic series I wrote for my last fandom called Obedience. ;)

L: How many times do you revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Recently, I've been hand-writing my first draft, then editing the next morning as I type it into the doc! It's a system that I've found works well for me. However, that means I revise it as many times as days it takes to finish, even in small increments. Once a scene/chapter is entirely finished, I do one last read-through to proofread and make any last edits, and then once it feels complete, I post it! It may seem like it takes a while, but because I do it bit by bit, it tends to work out better for me.

T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?

God, far too many to list. I'd be happy to talk about the rest in DMs, but the one that stands out the most to me off the top of my head is violent, mindless Enderwalk!Ranboo, especially if it's toward Michael. It just isn't character-compliant at all, and the way people use it just to hurt Michael and cause c!Beeduo pain leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Halcyon. <3 That's why I wrote a side-story for it!

Z: Major Character Death--do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?

I've both written and read it! And call me a hypocrite here all you'd like, but I can't tolerate Tommy or Tubbo perma-dying. That's one of the reasons why I've never read Passerine (and I don't plan to). Temporary deaths like Gone Away, The Dead Don't Dream, etc. are okay, but permadeaths just don't Sit Right with me.

Thanks for all the questions!

Ask game

[ma-gic-gay]

"What the fuck?" Michael asks, voice at a dangerous level. He startles them and they pull apart. "You two promised me you're not in a relationship, so what do you call this?"

They've been caught.

Shit.

"Kissing," Carly answers quickly, half lying and half telling the truth. "We're not dating."

"Then please explain to me what this is, Mom," he asks. "You too, Jason."

"Explain what?" Joss asks, walking into the room.

"They kissed."

"Avery owes me 5 bucks now," the blonde smiles. "I can buy a coffee with that money."

"Great, a free coffee. Are you at all having an emotional reaction to Mom and Jason kissing?" Michael asks his sister, who's ignoring him.

"Not my business who Mom and Jason kiss," she responds calmly.

When did she get so grown up? She had her "child of the corn" years a few years ago, but now she's an adult and not freaking out over this? His goddaughter's all grown up. One hell of a way to make you feel old.

"I can't believe you're so calm about this, Joss! They lied to us!"

"Did they? They said they weren't dating. First off, that's a present tense which could've changed, and they didn't say anything about kissing in hospitals," she says, confused.

"Here's that first aid kit for Jason, Carly," Elizabeth says, entering the tense room and handing it to the traumatized woman in the hospital bed. "Do you two need something?"

"My mother to figure out what the hell she feels for Jason Morgan," Michael answers bitterly.

"I'm not going to ask."

"They kissed! And they did it yesterday!" Michael exclaims, emotions getting the best of him before he can remember his tact.

Everyone's shocked he screamed that, Elizabeth especially. "Well. Um, I'm gonna head out. You guys enjoy... Whatever this is."

That's one way for it to come out.

"It's out in the open now," Carly chuckles, opening up the first aid kit and pulling out the bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and Neosporin.

"Mom, what are you doing with his hand?"

"He punched a wall so I'm cleaning up the cuts."

"Why'd you do that?"

"People were gossipping about your mother and what happened to her tonight. It pissed me off and I ended up punching a wall."

"By the looks of it you broke the wall."

"Nah, just a few scratches," Jason tells him before the stinging sensation of the hydrogen peroxide is on his hand. Not exactly a pleasant one.

"Well, are you okay?"

"Besides the fact your mother is stinging me with this stuff, I'm fine."

"Good. What happened to you tonight, Mom?" Michael asks gingerly.

Suddenly, the tension in the air amplifies by 50 if that's even possible. There's a good minute and a half where it's just an awkward silence before Carly answers him, filling the time with applying bandaids to his wounds, "Cyrus took me from the Metro Court. Well, one of his goons. But the goon took me to the Floating Rib, that little room above the bar. Somehow he knew the importance of that place to me and I was kidnapped. He raped me. I also got pretty beat up when I was resisting. Just when I was sure I'd never leave that room, Jason came in and saved me. Cyrus is in police custody right now and there's no way in hell he's getting off."

"He always saves all of us," Joss smiles at him. "Thanks."

"Anytime. I'll always save you guys, you know that," Jason returns her smile and sees one appear on Michael's face as well, though he's half ready to kill someone. It always happens when someone brings up rape, Michael gets distant and mad. Probably because of his own experience with it.

It's a good thing Cyrus is in police custody because if he wasn't, Jason has a feeling that he'd end up helping them cover up a murder.

"Mom, I'm so sorry you had to go through it. Cyrus is a sick bastard. You know that I'll be able to pull some strings and all of the Quartermaine's will testify in your behalf if you need to go to trial," Michael offers.

"Thanks, but I'm hoping he'll plead guilty and I won't have to sit through a trial."

"Well, if you do, you've got the best lawyer in the state on your side and all of us," Joss says, "besides, there's a bunch of evidence he did it. And everyone knows Jason's practically incapable of lying, so he'll be a great witness!"

"You, on the other hand, are a good liar, Joss," Michael counters.

"The law doesn't know that, Michael."

"I better never get a call I have to bail you out of jail."

"I'll call Cam or Trina. You'll be last on the list of people I'd call to bail me out, trust me," she playfully reassures her brother.

"Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"You pick."

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Corinthos cannot have visitors anymore," Epiphany tells them, interrupting the group gathering.

Sadly, her kids say goodbye to her, promising to visit in the morning. Jason, however, doesn't leave his chair. "Mr. Morgan, did you hear me? No more visitors. Visiting hours are over."

"I'm family."

"So are her children. They don't get to stay the night, neither do you."

"I need him to stay. When I sleep, I keep having nightmares- screaming, terrifying nightmares, and he's the only one who can get me back to sleep. Come on, Epiphany, you know we always spend the night in each other's hospital rooms," Carly attempts to bargain with the nurse.

"And if this were normal circumstances, I would allow it."

"What about this isn't normal circumstances?" Jason asks.

"Well, first off, Michael told Elizabeth about your... Activity. And second, this is a police investigation too. Hospital policy says that he can't stay the night."

"Oh my god," Carly scoffs, "because my son discussed something with us that Lizzie overheard and then spread to the whole town by now, he can't spend the night? Epiphany, I've given myself panic attacks with these nightmares already and he's been here! He's the only person who can calm me down and I know how important rest is for recovery. Besides, it's not like we have no self control. I would never have sex in a hospital."

Epiphany cocks an eyebrow at Jason, who innocently raises his hands. "You know me better than that."

Carly starts laughing at him being stared down by Epiphany, who he simply stated blankly at back. It's a contest of who's going to back down first, and they all know he'll win. His stubbornness is one personality trait that always comes out in hospitals.

"Fine. But I swear, if you two go at it, there will be hell to pay," Epiphany threatens before leaving, letting Jason stay in there. A win. "And she cannot stay up all night making out with you, she needs her rest. So do you, you look like hell."

"Yes ma'am," they answer and she shakes her head before closing the door.

"I feel like I'm in high school again," Carly jokes.

"No clue what that's like."

"Hell, if you're me. You, though, I bet you were that one kid all the teachers loved and the students too. A golden boy. I'm convinced you would've hated me in high school."

"Well, I wouldn't have remembered it anyways," he reminds her.

"Nah, I'm unforgettable," she says, a smirk playing on her lips. "Even with an amnesia causing coma."

"That's not how it-" he gets cut off by her kissing him again.

This is becoming more and more normal and that scares him. He's comfortable in his reality and, as usual, she's ready to bring Hurricane Carly into his life and break his equilibrium.

Well, that and the thought she could make another of those lists. The list scares him more than breaking this state of equilibrium.

"We promised Epiphany we wouldn't do this," he reminds her when they break apart.

"No, we promised her I'd rest and that we wouldn't stay up all night kissing or have sex," Carly corrects.

"Yes, you need your rest, Carly. Please, try to sleep," he urges.

"I'm offended!"

"Carly-"

"You have a guy telling you you're wrong and shut him up and now you've got to sleep. God how times have changed."

"No, it's not that. You, however, need your sleep. Besides, if you have a nightmare, I promise you can kiss me again," he finds himself saying.

Well. That part was unexpected. He really needs a reevaluation of feelings for her.

"Well, if his Royal Highness-"

"I'll kiss you if you have a nightmare, alright?" Jason revises his statement and she smiles.

"Deal."

"Good, you need to rest."

"So do you."

"Just worry about yourself, I'm fine."

"Mhm," she haphazardly agrees, allowing herself to fall back into a slumber while he shifts in the chair he's mastered the ability of sleeping in over the years.

To be continued later in life when it's not 1:30 am est

go to sleep :)

[writingquestionsanswered]

I'm having trouble with a couple stories I want to write, I'm just going to call them, A and B. I know I want to write A first, but currently I'm feeling more motivated and excited about B. I should probably work on B while I'm feeling that motivation knowing I'll need to revise it anyway, but I'm worried I'm losing motivation for A. What're you thoughts?

More Motivated to Write One Story Than Another

Some writers can work on more than one story at once, so the first thing I’d try is working on both simultaneously, whatever that looks like for you. Possibilities:

-- alternate days so both stories get worked on each week -- alternate weeks so both stories get worked on each month -- work on one story in the morning and one in the afternoons/evenings -- work on one story for a little while, then switch to the other one -- work on whichever one motivates you in the moment

If you find that you can’t work on more than one story at a time (which is fine, lots of us can’t...) I would probably go ahead and work on the one that is motivating you the most. If you lose motivation for the other story in the process, don’t worry about it. Here’s why...

There are lots of reasons we lose motivation for a story. Sometimes we’re just feeling another story more or we get distracted by other things. Sometimes we’re just stuck and our motivation fades. These are all things that should pass eventually. You should be able to rekindle your motivation when the time is right. However, sometimes we lose motivation for a story because it’s just not a good story as it is. It may be that the plot needs a lot of work, or that the story needs to be restructured. Maybe the story doesn’t really have a purpose or the character doesn’t have a clear goal. Maybe the thread of the story gets lost along the way and you need to figure out where it’s going. Regardless, when you completely lose motivation for a story and can’t get it back when you’re ready to work on it, that’s probably why. Usually, when you can dig into what you have and figure out what’s holding you back, it should re-spark your enthusiasm for the story and your motivation should kick right back up. If you can’t figure out what’s holding you back on a story, set it aside because you never know when inspiration will strike. I have stories that have been sitting on the shelf for ten years that I’ll suddenly feel inspiration for. 

So, don’t sweat it. Try to work on both at once and if that doesn’t work, stick with the one you’re feeling more, then come back to the other one later. :)

————————————————————————————————-

Have a question? My inbox is always open, but make sure to check my FAQ and post master lists first to see if I’ve already answered a similar question. :)

[barbitone]

HELLO!!!! i'd just like to tell you how thankful i am for everything you've written for capri ;____; berencel is my ride or die ship (aside from lamen of course!) and i've reread so many of your fics – which is why i'm reaching out to you now, since i JUST reread your space au and am currently going to start on your ballet au, which i'm sure i'll enjoy. uhhh that's it!!! i hope u are safe and healthy in these trying times! :)

Thank you so much for the lovely comment!!! I’m glad you’re enjoying re-reading fics :) Hope you like the ballet AU!

In light of the quarantine, I figured I’d share the beginning of my latest fic, which is a sort of regency AU and is basically an excuse for Berencel to just... flirt a lot, I guess

The cool night air on the patio was a relief after the bustle of the party inside. Berenger leaned against the railing, closing his eyes as he breathed in the fresh air and the blissful silence while he waited for Parsins to bring the carriage around.

If it were up to him, he’d give all such events a pass. Alas, his status did not permit it. He had to show his face sometimes, if only to remind the other scheming aristocrats that he was still their liege-lord.

He winced when he heard the door opening and schooled his features into a neutral expression as he listened to the approaching footsteps, resolved to ignore their owner. No doubt some merchant or minor nobleman come to try and win his favor, or try to wheedle out a trade deal, or an extension on their tax payments, or-

“Do you have a light?” a lilting voice asked.

Berenger sighed inwardly, annoyed. He’d already put on his riding gloves and wasn’t about to take them off to accommodate some boorish dandy who couldn’t be bothered to carry their own lighter. He’d meant to say as much, turning. 

“I-” he started and was immediately drawn up short by a vision of a man dressed in a fine green satin jacket. Even in the moonlight his hair was red as flames, and his plump lips were pursed in a smirk that wouldn’t look out of place on a siren, luring sailors to their deaths. He was certainly as beautiful as one, and probably no less dangerous.

He was holding a cigarette between his pale elegant fingers.

“-certainly,” Berenger finished, pulling off one glove before slipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve his lighter. He lit it and cupped the flame with his free hand, offering it to the young man and watching with bated breath the way his dark eyelashes fluttered when he leaned in.

“Thank you,” the stranger said with a faint smile. “Would you care for one?” He offered a silver cigarette case and Berenger shook his head before forcing himself to drag his gaze away from the man’s lips, wrapped sinfully around the cigarette. He put his glove back on as the stranger took a deep drag.

“You don’t like parties?” the young man asked. He turned to look out into the garden, the moonlight catching on his emerald earrings. Nobles rarely wore such lavish jewelry, and the lower classes couldn’t afford it. Berenger knew instinctively what the young man was. A high end rent boy, no doubt on retainer for one of the rich widows floating around back in the hall. 

He was the prettiest Berenger had ever seen; generally he’d found the widows preferred a more masculine sort. The young man was certainly the most well spoken, even though Berenger could detect the hint of a lower-class accent in his speech.

“Not as such,” Berenger said, turning to look into the garden as well. “And you?”

“I find it all quite exhilarating,” the youth said. “The food and drink, the lavish surroundings, the entertainments.”

“Oh yes,” Berenger said with a wry smile. “And the company, I’m sure.”

The youth laughed, taking a drag off his cigarette and blowing out a thin stream of smoke that dissipated slowly into the night air. “In truth,” he started, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “I find the company a bit tedious.”

“Do you really,” Berenger said, amused. “And that’s why you’re out here. Escaping.”

“Perhaps,” the young man said with an enigmatic smile.

They were standing quite close- close enough to invite scandalous rumors. Berenger found himself not caring overmuch. As a dedicated bachelor he was quite used to rumors, and this was a far more pleasant situation to spark them than most he’d been involved in.

“Is it working?” Berenger asked.

The stranger laughed, shifting so their shoulders nearly, almost, brushed together. “So far I’ve found the company out here to be far preferable to what I left behind,” he said, holding Berenger’s gaze as he flicked his cigarette butt into a rose bush below.

“The grounds keeper won’t be well pleased to find that come morning,” Berenger murmured, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t imagine so,” the young man said with a wicked grin. “But I think I’ll get away with it this time. Unless you intend to tattle on me?”

“Heavens forbid,” Berenger said, utterly enchanted even though he knew he shouldn’t be. “Even if I wished to betray you so terribly- I don’t even know your name.”

“Maybe we should keep it that way,” the man teased. “A guarantee that my crime will remain undiscovered.”

“Ancel!” someone cried out and the stranger- Ancel- let out a put upon sigh.

“Alas,” he murmured. “The jig is up. And so terribly soon.”

“I’d been wondering where you’d- you’d-” an older portly man said, coming closer and setting his hand low on Ancel’s back. His eyes fell on Berenger and his speech came to an abrupt stuttering stop. “Lord Berenger!”

Berenger regarded the stranger cooly. He was some third rate horse merchant, not one that Berenger was well acquainted with. Luis? Leon?

“No!” Ancel said with a gasp, widening his eyes in a decent approximation of surprise. “Not the Lord Berenger!” 

“The very same,” Berenger said, tightening his lips so he wouldn’t smile. He was certain now that Ancel had known exactly who he was from the start. This was some sort of ambush, and Ancel its lovely architect.

“What an honor to make your acquaintance,” Ancel said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “And what a fortuitous coincidence.”

“I’m sure,” Berenger said.

“Why, my cousin Louans here has been been talking about you non stop!” Ancel continued.

Cousin, Berenger thought, barely containing a snort. It seemed Ancel was an entirely different sort of rent boy than what Berenger had initially taken him for. It wasn’t an uncommon arrangement between men of certain inclinations. The faint veneer of familial relation served as a way to justify why a gentleman might suddenly acquire an attractive housemate. 

Still, it didn’t make sense for someone of Ancel’s caliber to waste his time on a man like Louans. Ancel was clearly expensive, and Louans was just a merchant.

Berenger found himself looking at Louans with fresh appreciation. Maybe the quality of his goods had gone up and his business was thriving...?

“Lord Berenger,” Louans said. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about a lucrative investment-”

Ancel laughed brightly, cutting the older man off. “Oh, cousin,” he said sharply. “Surely you don’t mean to bore Lord Berenger with business matters. This is a party, after all.” He smiled and leaned in to set his hand on Berenger’s arm, just above the elbow. When next he spoke his voice was low, seductive. “Forgive my cousin,” he murmured. “He tends to get ahead of himself.”

Ancel was flirting with him, and right in front of Louans. Berenger revised his opinion of the merchant once more. However he’d lucked into an arrangement with Ancel, it wasn’t because he was suddenly smarter or richer than he’d been before.

“Lord Berenger,” came Parsins’ pinched voice. “Your carriage is ready.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said, not taking his eyes off Ancel, still watching him. Louans made a small badly-concealed noise of dismay. Ancel smirked.

“What a terrible shame,” he said, lowering his eyes demurely. “And we were just getting to know one another. Perhaps we can continue this conversation at a later time?”

“Perhaps,” Berenger said, taking a step back. Ancel’s hand slipped from his arm and he found himself already missing the heat of him. But he knew better than to pine for what he could never have. “Farewell,” he said before turning to follow Parsins away.

“Lord Berenger,” Ancel called after him.

Berenger couldn’t resist the call, stopping and turning back.

“Have you given thought to where you’ll be summering?”

It was a trap of some sort, a trick. He didn’t care, so long as Ancel gave him an excuse to see him again.

“I have not,” Berenger lied. He’d intended to to spend the summer working, as he always did, splitting his time between Arles and Varenne.

“Lord Rouart has opened his summer villa to a few select guests,” Ancel said, raising his eyebrow suggestively. “They say there’s good hunting in the forest, and beautiful riding trails. The grounds are said to be quite lovely as well. Perhaps you’ll join us?”

Berenger hesitated even as he practically felt Parsins scowling behind him.

“Just for a week or two?” Ancel asked with a pout. “It would be such a shame if our paths never crossed again.”

“Has Rouart authorised you to hand out invitations on his behalf?” Berenger asked.

Ancel laughed. “Formalities,” he said dismissively with a flick of his fingers. “Please. Won’t you consider it?”

Berenger smiled wryly. “I’ll consider it,” he said at last. “Farewell, Ancel.” He nodded politely and made his leave.

When he was alone in the carriage he managed a quiet chuckle. What had he been thinking? Letting some enchanting rent boy wrap him around his finger? It wasn’t just that he was beautiful, it was everything. Even the fact that he belonged to someone else made him all the more enticing. Berenger let himself entertain the fantasy of stealing him away, seducing him, being seduced. He could spirit Ancel away to Varenne and lay him out over dark satin sheets, drape him in jewels-

He let out a deep breath and let the notion go, looking out the window at the dark countryside passing by. It was foolishness. Getting involved in whatever Ancel’s scheme was would be utter foolishness.

It wasn’t until he was back in his study having just finished packing his pipe that he realized Ancel had masterfully outmaneuvered him. He reached into his pocket for his lighter and instead drew out a single emerald earring.

He held it up, watching the way the lamplight played over the jewels. It was nothing to Ancel’s wicked smile, his striking red hair, his hand, warm on Berenger’s arm. The emerald wasn’t nearly as lovely as Ancel’s eyes.

But it was expensive, and now Berenger had no choice but to return it.

[theflyingfeeling]

F - K - L - S

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This one, possibly:

“How’s… what’s her name again?” he asks, hoping it would distract Mackenzie from the fact he still hasn’t expressed an opinion on the current matter.

“Whose name?” Mackenzie replies absentmindedly, eyes still wandering around the sea of tight ponytails bouncing up and down.

“The girl from the Zumba class? Did you go out?”

Mackenzie’s face falls immediately and Michi adopts a sympathetic look in advance.

“Yep. Went to The Magic Daddy for drinks.” Mackenzie says. Michi raises his eyebrows at the mention of the night club. It’s not far from where he lives; in fact, he thinks he walks past it to the metro station every morning. He’s never been there himself, but he’s heard stories. The place has a… reputation.

“Isn’t that a-“

“A male strip club? Yes.” Mackenzie snorts bitterly. “I go to a Zumba class to hit on hot chicks but guess what? Turns out they all think I’m gay. Can you believe it? It’s the 21st century and people are still fostering ancient stereotypes? Unbelievable.” Mackenzie shakes his head [...].

“Her boyfriend works there as a bouncer. Terrific guy, about the size of the Empire State Building.” The empty hallway reverberates with Michi’s laughter. “So thank you, Michi, but that would be the last time I take the advice of a prudish soldier boy who’s probably still a virgin. Should’ve listened to Kevin…” he says and gives Michi a cold stare before turning his attention back to the gym class in front of them.

Why? Purely because I think the comedic timing in it is pretty on point, somehow.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Nothing specific comes to mind right now but I have tons and tons of fic ideas for the two cuties in my current avatar and some of them were probably angsty too, probably a bit of unrequited love or miscommunication, that sorta thing. And I have this waaaaaaay too elaborate fic idea for a bunch of hockey players that features a major character death.

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Not enough times! 😅😬 I often don't enjoy reading my own writings (at least right after I've finished them) so often I just send them to be betaed (that's you!) without proof-reading them (sorry 🙈) and after that I try to go through the whole text once (but not more, usually) before posting because I just want to get it out of my hands because if I don't do it as soon as I can I'll never get anything posted because I'll never be satisfied with it. 😩

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

I'm a sucker for almost any kinds of alternative universes! Friends to lovers is always great too. And what if they were roommates? *chef's kiss*

Thank youuuuu 🌹