#and like… honestly if I could do my courses fully online from my old college then Maybe I’d do that and not move back down there but. I cant

[seilon]

why does my local city college have so many more course/program options than my local state college this fucking Sucks

[aizenat]

@aquad0ll respectfully, this is what is called building a narrative, and I’m really disappointed to see you fall for this.

James was 20/JUST TURNING 21 at the OLDEST at these incidents. At 20, it is not predatory or weird to date a 18/19 year old. In his video (I watched it at the time it came out, so idk why you sent me this article like I wasn’t following that situation), he said that he did not know they were minors when he started talking to them. And when he found out their ages, HE STOPPED TALKING TO THEM. What predator you know does that? Most predators I know/have heard of only back off if they either get the shit beat out of them, or the cops get involved.

I watched the videos of the one boy in particular when he was first making videos. He admits to lying about his age, and also admits that every time James pulled away (due to thinking he was uninterested), he’d purposely pulled James back. Minors are bad at making smart decisions, which is why we didn’t blame them for shit like this (like, sorry, teenagers lie all the goddamn time. I did, you did, we all fucking did. And if you (general you since i have to specify that so ppl don’t take shit personally) didn’t, you were probably a loser with no life who didn’t have a reason to lie lol). BUT James Charles was an emerging adult whose prefrontal cortex wasn’t fully developed either. If he was a regular kid, he would have been sexting from his family home bedroom (or college dorm at best) just like that 16 year old who was posting thirst trap pictures on Snapchat behind his parents back (because I was doing inappropriate shit on the family computer behind my family’s back at that age too like bruh).

I don’t understand how James, at 20 and obviously new to flirting and dating, ESPECIALLY AS A HYPER VISIBLE GAY CELEB, was supposed to know the kid was lying about his age. In the video, he says he didn’t think to make the kid show his id or something UNTIL the backlash. Which, yeah, I sure as hell wouldn’t think to do that either. And not for nothing, even as an adult, if someone asked me to do that to prove my age who wasn’t selling me alcohol or weed, I’d be like hell no! I ain’t showing my fucking id to someone online! The fuck! Like even asking that online sounds crazy ngl. He was a kid his own damn self with no real life experience hanging around kids his age who, due to their lack of fame and/or heterosexuality, wouldn’t have thought of it either! Like of course he didn’t think of it. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong!

And as soon as he realized he did, he bailed! What more was he supposed to do? He said he wasn’t into older guys; he had to develop a daddy kink just to make sure the dudes he was fucking weren’t minors? He wasn’t allowed to look for young guys around his age that he could relate to? Like honestly, what was the expectation? Truly? What more could he do? He asked, the kid lied but he took him at his word, and then dropped the kid when he learned the truth. What more should he have done?

The hyper diligence is unfair and unrealistic. He’s not Leonardo DiCaprio looking at an 18 year old: he was in the age range where dating an 18 year old was not rare and he wanted to date kids his age. But he’s a groomer because the kids lied to him about their ages? He’s a predator for wanting to date kids around his age? What? College age kids date all the time despite meh age gaps. Before I realized I was a lesbian (actually don’t know how I didn’t realize it with him but lol), I was seeing and making out with a guy who was a 22 year old senior when I was 18. And that was after I stole him from another 18 year old girl I didn’t like (18 year old me didn’t give a fuck lol). And he went and dated another 22 year old senior after I dumped him! He wasn’t looking only for “young” girls to take advantage of! We were on a college campus and so it was common for us to all date each other despite the age gaps because we were “all adults.” And for the most part, we all had similar lifestyles.

Like if you can explain to me exactly how this isn’t “how dare a gay man talk to men, that’s grooming/predatory” 1970s anti gay/conversion therapy propaganda, I may listen. Yall act like he was 25 looking for hs boys to date and when he found out they were younger was like “score! Okay, lemme see how far I can take this.” No! He didn’t do that at all! So how is he a predator?

Like I’m not even being sassy or anything; please explain it to me? How thinking a boy was 2, MAYBE 3 years younger than him, was him praying on minors? Or is that the narrative spun around him thanks to a homophobic 40 year old YouTuber who couldn’t stand watching a then 18-20 year old James Charles speak openly about his sexual attraction to men? How is walking away when he realizes they’re minors means he was grooming them? Like what am I missing? Truly?

But, and this was what spurred my op: HOW DOES HIS NUDES GETTING LEAKED “CONFIRM” HE’S A “PREDATOR?”

Like if I’m truly missing something, sure tell me. But all I’ve ever seen is people just buying into the narrative being spread about him uncritically. And I’ve yet to see anyone make a solid case that James was/is anything but a hyper online gay kid who was struggling to find someone his age truly into him and not clout chasing/interested in him for his fame and money. He was at a level of wealth and success that most kids his age would never have, trying to date kids his age who wouldn’t have had college degrees yet let alone careers and their own place/independent lifestyle. Kid was lonely and then was vilified for trying to look for someone (after a lifetime of watching friends date but being unable to do himself; in that very video in the article, JAMES ADMITS TO BEING A VIRGIN!).

I just can’t see how this is anything other than a narrative being spun about him that James Charles took and ran with. Maybe I’m missing something, but I’ve yet to see the argument made against him that didn’t feel very Britney Spears-esque in the leaps of logic and expectations place on him.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

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[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[masterprocrastinatortm]

Yo!

I've been a regular follower for a while, and your uni looks beautiful and so modern (or post modern idk), and it just looks great.

But

How is the course, law I think?

How's uni life?

How's it all!

I wanna know cos imma be doing uni in 1.5yrs, and I just really am interested in it all

Thanks!!, FeS2

Hey! I am very happy to answer this!

This is a very long answer, so TLDR; University is different from school, I like student life, law is hard but you can do it if you want to.

I go to University in Aberdeen, Scotland (not sure where you're from but I know there are like three Aberdeens in the world...) and I really love it here. The University itself is a combination of really really old (Kings College was built in 1495) and really new (like the SDR library and some of the lecture halls and buildings).

I think any course in University or college will be very different from what school is like, just from my own experience. Especially if you go overseas (which is what I am doing). I think regardless it will be quite a big change. Personally, a good change - but it takes time to adjust.

When I came here I found it really difficult to acclimate to how the focus of learning here is very much memorization-based - remembering rules and names and dates, etc, whereas I was used to having a lot of open-book exams and application of rules that you could look up in the book.

My boyfriend is currently doing his first year of University, and he is finding it quite hard to get used to how to write in academia, compared to how it was in school or day-to-day as a standard working adult. There is a lot more referencing and you have to be quite critical of which sources you use - and it's a lot more stressful than what he thought beforehand.

this is why it's so important to choose something you are actually interested in, not just something that will give you a good job for the future - because going to University is like having a full-time job and a half, and a lot of people don't necessarily know/understand that

As for student life, I really liked my first few years. I was assigned 5 random flatmates for the first year, and it was a very eclectic bunch. I was very lucky and liked all of them, but they did not like everyone, and some of our neighbors really hated their flatmates. My best friend (and used to be library buddy) is actually one of those randos

We were a bit of a party flat the first few weeks, but after a few months together and some drama, we opted to go out instead so we didn't have to deal with the arguments that cleanup brought.

I think a lot has changed now though because of how society has adjusted to the panoramic. It hit while was on my year abroad - and honestly, it really affected my grades. I'm pretty sure most courses now have no in-person lectures, only online ones. And only some lucky courses have tutorials and seminars on campus (that you can also attend online). The same is true for socials. A lot of student societies (I could not recommend enough that you join some while in uni) have had to cut down on in-person events, or at least limit numbers, and has had a lot of online socials which personally I find almost more isolating than not joining any at all.

Law itself - would not recommend unless you hate yourself. But also, if you really want to do it, you are fully able to do it.

Our lecturers are like any other place, some good some bad. Aberdeen uni is very international so we have lectures from all over the world, and honestly, I still find them so interesting.

Studying is a lifestyle. It is very hard, but once you kind of crack the key for how to do things it does become easier. Since I'm in my last year and doing honours courses it's a lot of self-study, and very little anything together with lecturers or tutors, which personally I struggle with but is also fine if you set some good boundaries for yourself - and keep some good habits (I dont lol). This is where any friends you have from your course is good to have (i was lucky and made some friends in my first year who are still around this year)

[watcherfenix]

A Vent long time coming

It feels like it has been ages since I wrote anything.  There is so much I wanna write and comment on, simply hard to pin just one idea down. So, in sticking with the theme of vulnerable journey treading and wanting my experiences to help someone out there. I am going to decompress the last years and possibly go into more at a later date. I have been in limited contact with people for close to 3 years. This is due to moving to a new country compounded with COVID, which killed many attempts at being social. Coupled with that polite racism of Canada and recovering from a very traumatic breakup, have been in a low place. Also, in transition for a work visa which has been slowed due to COVID. Depression and PSTD make leaving the place is a chore and a constant mental battle. I was able to do a year of college in a small-town university. Learned a lot and nothing all at once. Learned about myself. Learned about my own Blackness (and still learning). Of course, this caused me to look at my life experience through a new lens as if pages have been restored in a tattered book. Seeing how my old, colonized self parroted some toxic garbage and did some” ignorant passable shit “that I wished I had never said or did. Angry at my parents for trying so hard to “protecting “me from my own Blackness. Leaving me under-prepared for the world I was going to be a part of. Instead, my father tells me as an adult, I am ungrateful and “raised by wolves,” and I told him I hated him. Pissed that he presented his side of the family as dangerous, volatile and “ghetto” and that being gay and black was asking for a short life in the family. Causing me to be averse to wanting to meet them.   But with time, I will be able to accept “all of me.” By learning another country’s history, I realized I was on the wrong side of history. Referring to my time in the military and playing a role in destabilizing the Middle East (something the US military has quite a long track record of doing). This affects me in a couple of different ways. First, being a part of pain and suffering on such a grand scale goes against who I believe. Secondly, knowing that it is a family legacy (father being a weapons contractor after being retired Air Force and had a few generals in the family too). Lastly, I lost friends and a lover to the machine known as the military-industrial complex. And knowing that the government is getting worse makes their deaths sting a bit more than I care to admit. Thinking about my time in the military fills me with bittersweet memories now tinged with some guilt and shame. While I had stewed in these thoughts for long periods of time. Slowly getting comfortable with these truths. Only to be slammed with the ugliness that is America’s racism. Seeing white friends during BLM and all that led up to it go silent or worse, shit on the idea of BLM. Gay community leeches off black culture while making claims of being inclusive makes me want to rage cry. Seeing so much Racism and colorism in communities I used to call these spaces, my home is now quite repulsive . I was hoping for too much, wanting my communities to be supportive. Genuinely supportive, helping people because it is right, not causes it's trending.  Wish POC communities would stop internalizing and perpetuating hate and start lifting each other up. Instead of determining “blackness” and gender roles. It has been absolutely heartbreaking to see so many people passing in such a short time frame. I am reminded of my older friends sharing their tales of the AIDs crisis and survivals guilt. I feel weird knowing these people for a while online, just too sudden.. they are gone. I develop a connection with these people but feel I cannot claim it because other people that knew them spent time with them in real life. Deep down, there is a feeling that my connection is less than because I am unable to meet these people. I do not fully subscribe to this idea, but every time another FB friend or friend dies, it comes to my mind. And I honestly do not know what to do with it. Though the thought of friends that have pass makes me feel things. I cannot help but mourn the relationships lost because of my selfishness, drugs, or toxic relationships before people I called my family. The concept of family seems and feels so foreign to me now, yet I still hunger for one.  My parents and sister's relationship was polarizing and taking a toll on my mental wellness.  But cutting ties with them does not make me feel better. Sure enough, feel guilty and ashamed because of some internal nagging feeling I needed to try harder to work things out. Must remember why I had to cut ties with them. I had to, being with them caused me so much emotional and spiritual pain, I would later choose homelessness than ask for their help again. Yet, I still love them just do not want them in my life or do not want to share my life with them anymore. Does not make processing the loss of my bio family any easier. It does feel more correct than sticking with them. I wish I were a better friend. I often feel like a failing friend. I regret missing so many chosen family life events. Missed both of my brother’s weddings a few people’s graduations. Burned a lot of bridges protecting people that were later discovered to be trash. Wish I could send messages to say I am sorry. Just feel too much has either happen or too much time has gone by to bring it up now. The feelings and thoughts build up so much that it stresses me out and becomes intrusive thoughts shaming me out of evening trying. And having been burned by so many shitty relationships, feel less like... me. More like a by-product of all the lessons I learn. A by-product that is very wary of trying to make new friends or form new relationships. To be honest, I struggle with who I am and have been struggling with my self-image for three years now. So, trying to attempt new friendships seem out of my depths. Trying to be compassionate and kinder to myself …. when... I feel I need to be better and stronger than average. Sadly, I am my own worse jailer and serving life sentences for things that I just do not know why anymore. My brain gets so loud feels like my brain is grated with sandpaper. Depression, shitty world events, insomnia and PTSD, have caused me to disassociate to the point time has no meaning to me and staying in the moment is getting harder to do. Battling the idea that this is a dream or this reality is unreal. I really dislike being dissociative like this, reminds me too much of when I was doing meth and how quickly the time went by and how time was filled up with all other manners of things. Also reminds me of the time I almost cut myself to discern between reality and dreams. Grateful I have my husband to keep me grounded. He makes me smile when I am down. Somedays, he is the only thing keeping me here. My mind is full, and my heart is heavy. The road is long and the burden heavy, but I will be moved forward in some way. Thank you for your time, love

Fenix

[cutelittlestar]

Steal My Girl || Peter Parker x Reader {Smut!}

Summary: While on a trip, Peter plans to confess his feelings to you but everything is ruined by a boy who also has his eyes on you. Once Peter finally unveils the truth, things get steamy... 

Word Count: 5.7k

Warning(s): fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, SMUT, language, MATURE CONTENT, 18+ (you & Peter are 18)

A/N: lordtt.....plz forgive me, for I have sinned. This has been secretly written in my notebook for quite some time, and I was always too scared to post it online. Now, I say fuck it. As always, I love you all and I hope you enjoy!!!😘💕❤️ 

For those of you who may be wondering about my other series, Maniac and Lone Wolf, it may be a while bc of college and work (being an adult SUCKS). But, I promise I’ll try and upload the chapters whenever I can! 

*gif is not mine!

Once again, Midtown’s decathlon team was given another opportunity to travel to a different state for a tournament, where they would compete with other high schools for the national title. Peter was extremely excited because this was your first trip with the team, and he wanted you to have an unforgettable experience; that’s why Peter created a meticulous yet worthy plan that would help him accomplish his goal. His plan consisted of various things, such as taking you to popular locations, exploring the city late at night -despite curfew- and doing spontaneous activities he knew you would love. Most importantly, Peter made this plan in hopes that he could confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you since freshman year, but he was always terrified to tell you the truth. Now that senior year was almost over, the pain of withholding his raw emotions was too unbearable to handle. It’s now or never, Peter thought to himself, and for a while, Peter believed his plan was going to work. 

But, he was wrong. 

Peter’s plan began to crumble the minute that Daniel Miller entered the picture. Daniel was everything that Peter wasn’t - he was perfect, a star-athlete, tall,  and he had an impeccable character that made him lovable. Every girl had a huge crush on him, and they had every right to find him appealing. In the beginning, Peter didn’t really seem to care about Daniel, but now that Daniel was purposefully sabotaging Peter’s plan, Peter was beyond angry. Anytime that Peter was with you, you were whisked away by Daniel for various idiotic reasons. 

The first time Daniel took you away, he lied and asked if you could switch seats with Flash because he was ‘severely’ allergic to peanut butter crackers. You, of course, offered to change seats, completely unaware that Daniel was luring you towards him. Peter felt his blood boil; he clearly remembers seeing Daniel eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup a couple of days before. The second time Daniel took you away, you were sitting next to Peter in the dining hall at the hotel before Daniel ‘accidentally’ spilled hot coffee all over his body; once again, you fell for his trap, and you offered to help him, despite Daniel being eighteen years old. The third time Daniel took you away, you were watching a movie with Peter; Daniel somehow convinced you that he needed your help and asked if you could quiz him for the upcoming competition, to which you agreed. Every single time that Daniel succeeded, he would give Peter a relish sneer, mentally gloating that he had successfully stolen you away. 

Although Peter absolutely hated Daniel with every fiber of his soul, It’s not like Peter was going to force you to stop talking to Daniel - that would be a dick move - but if Peter had the chance to throw Daniel off a building, he would happily do it in a heartbeat. However, as you were spending more time with Daniel instead of Peter, Peter’s hope was gradually disappearing. 

Now, Peter morosely sat in his hotel room alone, imagining Daniel constantly flirting with you the whole afternoon and evening. By making up a quick lie and telling Mr. Harrington that he had a stomach ache, Peter was able to sulk in his room while the rest of the group was exploring tourist areas in the city before the big competition. Peter had come to believe that Daniel had won and decided there was no point of trying to win you back; there was no way that you would ever love him, Peter thought to himself, not when Daniel is still around.

Meanwhile, as Peter was sadly believing that Daniel was now professing his love for you, you were sitting on your bed, your room right in front of Peter’s door, completely unaware that Peter stayed behind as well. You, too, lied and said that you were feeling sick, but in reality, you wanted some time away from Daniel. He was becoming extremely annoying, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. While you assumed that you were going to have some peace and quiet, that dream was utterly destroyed. As usual, Flash opened his big mouth and told Daniel that you were in your hotel room, so now, you were sitting inches away from Daniel as a movie was playing in the background. You pretended to listen to the movie, but you constantly thought about Peter, wondering how he was doing. You felt horrible for leaving Peter alone so many times, and you wanted to apologize but you never had the chance to. 

“You okay, Y/N?” Daniel confronted, noticing how your eyes were not watching the screen. You rapidly blinked, turning to look at Daniel before giving him a half-hearted smile. 

“‘M fine, just thinking about Peter,” you honestly confessed, hoping that Daniel would further question you, wondering why you were so worried about Peter. Instead, he said the exact opposite. 

“Meh, don’t worry about Parker right now. It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” You let out a frustrated sigh, to which Daniel didn’t pick up, and you mentally rolled your eyes, hating how Daniel always changed the topic whenever you would bring up Peter. If you knew that Daniel had this fuckboy persona, you never would’ve given him the time of day. You remained quiet and glued your eyes to the screen, hoping that Daniel wouldn’t notice your disinterest in the horrible movie he picked out. You faked a laugh as something ‘hilarious’ showed up on the screen, but then you felt your phone vibrate on the nightstand. You leaned towards the furniture, detaching your phone from the charger and unlocking your phone. MJ sent you a text; you assumed she sent you a photo of where they were at, but when you read the message, a frown settled on your face. 

Peter is in his room right now, very upset. Do you think you could check up on him? 

Without needing any more information, you turned off your phone and jumped out of the bed. You turned to look at Daniel, who paused the movie, and you gave him an apologetic look, hoping that he would understand what you were about to tell him. 

“I’m sorry, Danny, but I just got a text from MJ. Peter is upset and I have to make sure he’s okay.” 

“What?” Daniel responded in an annoying tone, hating that Peter, once again, was ruining his plans. “Are you serious right now? We’re watching a movie, you can’t just leave me here.” 

You glared at Daniel, deeply despising the way he spoke to you, but you bit your lip, not wanting to argue back and forth. You slipped on your shoes and proceeded to ignore Daniel’s snarky attitude. 

‘Daniel, I don’t get why you’re so mad. I’m checking up on one of my closest friends, what’s your fucking deal?” you snapped at him, causing Daniel to lean back in shock. 

“My deal?” Daniel angrily repeated. “My deal is that you’re paying too much attention to him. We’re having a great time together, I just hate that Peter is getting in the way of that.” 

You rolled your eyes, unable to believe that Daniel actually thought you were having a great time. The boy merely spoke about himself and nothing else, and you found him extremely boring. You let out a laugh, to which he didn’t like, but you didn’t give a fuck anymore. “Danny,” you started, “don’t try to control what I do. I’m leaving and that’s final.” 

You angrily grabbed your phone, ignoring his protests and pleads, but just as you were about to open the door, the idiot had the nerve to open his mouth once again. 

“Whatever, go run to Peter. But, I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can.” 

You remained still, feeling your blood boil due to his vulgar comment. You were trying your hardest not to chuck your phone at his face, but instead, you turned around and gave him a smirk.

“I doubt that, Danny. From what I heard, you barely have four inches,” you retorted before opening the door and slamming it shut. 

You mumbled curse words under your breath, wishing you could’ve smacked Daniel across the face, but Peter was your top priority. In a quick second, you were now standing in front of Peter’s door, and you anxiously knocked on it. Peter was pulled out of his thoughts once he heard someone knocking, and he got up off of his bed and walked towards the door, opening it halfway. To say the least, Peter was surprised to see you standing right in front of him, and he wondered why you were back so early. Judging by your irritated face, Peter knew something was on your mind and you wanted to get it off of your chest, so he moved to the side and fully opened the door. You walked inside, continuing to spew out profanities, but then you closed your mouth, remembering why you were here.

“Peter, is something bothering you? MJ told me you were upset,” you said, causing Peter to stiffen. Peter hoped that MJ didn’t tell you the real reason he was upset, but he remained quiet, wanting you to continue speaking. You walked towards the bed and plopped down, patting the empty spot next to you, signaling Peter to sit down. Peter obeyed, and you instantly leaned into him, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“You can tell me anything, Peter. I’ll listen,” you remarked, hoping that Peter would tell you the truth. You hated seeing him sad, and you were willing to do anything to make him happy. Peter let out a big breath, slowly working up the courage to say what’s been on his chest for the past four years. You lifted your head, shifting your body so that you were now fully facing him. You watched as a shaky Peter was fidgeting with his fingers. 

“You want me to be completely honest?” Peter timidly whispered, deciding that now was finally the time to say he’s had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You nodded your head, eager to know the cause of his sorrows.

“Yes, of course, Pete,” you replied, getting anxious by the second as Peter was stalling time. Peter bit his lower lip, not knowing how to perfectly form his emotions into words, but when he opened his mouth, everything came spewing out. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I saw you, and I made this very tedious plan to confess my feelings for you while we were on this trip - but then fucking Daniel ruined everything - and that’s the reason why I’ve been so moody. I was going to take you to various places in the city - and I even bought you a bracelet with our initials on it - but now that I’m saying it out loud, that’s kinda creepy and I’m sorry, and I’m rapidly speaking so I can run away from the inevitable - which is you turning me down because you don’t feel the same way.” Peter heavily panted as he finished his rant, but there was a long moment of silence as you stared at Peter with wide eyes. 

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, unable to register what Peter was saying. All of this time, you thought that Peter didn’t like you, but when he finally admitted his feelings, you were completely taken aback. Holy fuck, you thought to yourself, Peter loves me. Peter loves me.  

“I know, I know-,” Peter sorrowfully replied, rubbing his forehead, hurt that you were ridiculing him because of the way he felt about you. “It’s hilarious that a guy like me thinks that he can get with a girl like you. Hahaha, but it hurts, Y/N, I have feelings an-”

“Peter,” you interrupted him, moving closer until you were inches away from his face. Peter closed his mouth, feeling his heart rapidly beat in his chest as he began to cherish every feature on your face; his heart felt like it was going to explode due to the lack of distance, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you loved the effect you were having on Peter. You delicately placed your hands on his chest, and you discreetly remained calm, despite you being able to feel how strong his chest was.

“I love you, too” you heartedly declared, anxiously smiling as you waited for Peter to respond. You watched the corner of his lips curve upwards, and you lovingly stared into Peter’s eyes, noticing the crinkles around his eyes become more prominent when he grinned, and you absolutely adored it. He was like a ray of sunshine, his smile was more than his mouth; it was his voice and his words, and it was utterly beautiful. 

His eyes briefly widened, but then they became soft as he now watched your cheeks turn pink like a spring tulip. 

“Are you like, serious? You’re not messing with me right now?” Peter managed to say, unable to accept that the girl of his dreams just told him she liked him. You let out a slight chuckle, running your hands up until they peacefully rested on Peter’s neck; you slowly leaned your forehead against his, deeply staring into his eyes.

“I’m a hundred percent serious, Peter. I love you so fucking much.” You drew Peter towards you as much as you could, and in the first second, he inhaled your enticing scent. It smelled pleasant, light, and refreshing - there was a slight hint of fruitiness, but it wasn’t overbearing nor masking your natural scent. The next second, your lips are on Peter’s, and he openly invites you into his arms. For such a long time, Peter kisses you with such delicately and tenderness, and you didn’t want to pull away. This felt right, and you knew that Peter felt the same way. Peter was your perfect guy, and you were going to make sure he knew that every single day of his life until the day he dies. 

Peter departs his lips from yours, despite you moaning for more, and he takes a moment to lovingly stares into your eyes, gingerly holding your face in his hands. Your eyes sparkled with delight, and if Peter could, he would freeze this moment forever, never wanting to move forward. Although Peter’s plans didn’t go the way he wanted it to, the outcome was, nonetheless, just as beautiful as he imagined it. 

“Kiss me again, Peter,” you quietly demanded. 

Peter leans into your touch, finding your lips once again - but then something inside of you changes. The soft tender kiss turned into a vicious, needy make-out session. The sweet, timid, and friendly girl Peter used to know was completely gone and was now replaced with a rough and aroused one. You gradually climbed onto Peter’s lap as you hungrily kissed him, and you feel a patch of wetness drip onto your underwear as your tongues fight for dominance. Peter is so enticed on kissing you that he fails to notice one of your hands firmly grasping his cock through his pants. The sudden touch causes Peter to ripple out a low groan, and you smile into the kiss, content that you were able to make Peter wither from just a single touch. 

You repeat the same noise at a higher pitch as Peter roughly rubs your ass, disconnecting his lips before attacking your neck. You throw your head back in utter bliss, granting Peter more access, and you feel a bruise form as Peter continues to suck on a particular spot. While one hand is stroking Peter’s enormous cock, the other hand snakes its way under his shirt; another moan comes out of Peter’s mouth, and you loved hearing it. 

In a blink of an eye, Peter’s shirt is on the ground, and yours follows as well. You push him down against the bed, and you seductively crawl towards him until you’re straddling his waist. 

Your lips reconnect once more, and Peter’s fingers manage to unclasp your bra, which he recklessly tosses to the ground. “Peter,” you moaned in delight as his hands raked over your exposed chest, firmly gripping your breasts. Just as Peter is about to place his lips on your sensitive bud, a loud banging on the door prevents him from doing so. You let out a gasp, frightened at the sound, but then you hear the voice yell. 

“Open up, Parker!” Daniel angrily announced, continuing to slam his fist on the door. “I know Y/N is in there! We need to talk.” You and Peter stare at each other, not knowing what to do, but then you vividly remembered Daniel’s words. I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can. A smirk grows on your face as you think of an elaborate and mischievous plan. Oh, you were going to prove him wrong. As Daniel kept screaming, demanding you to come out of the room, Peter became exasperated, completely annoyed that Daniel was ruining your intimate moment. Finally, Peter lets out an irritated groan, but just as he’s about to move you to the side so he can answer the door, you place your hands on his chest. 

“Don’t move, I have an idea,” you say with a sly smug, but before Peter can ask you what your plan was, you let out a loud, compelling, and pornographic moan.

“Oh, God! Peter!” you yelled in pure ecstasy, grabbing your breasts in the process to keep you riled up. “Don’t stop! Keep going, baby.” The banging immediately stops, and you mentally give yourself a pat on the back, knowing that on the other side of the door, Daniel was extremely jealous, embarrassed, and frustrated. Peter’s eyes widen in shock at your reaction, but he’s ultimately aroused once more, loving how you wanted Daniel to know that he was fulfilling your sexual desires. 

Peter disregards Daniel’s presence and attaches his lips on your nipple, causing you to loudly sigh in bliss as Peter sucks on it. The fake moans you were forming were now real, and you held Peter’s head in your chest as his finger roughly rubbed the other nipple. 

“Fuck-” you loudly whined, unintentionally rubbing yourself on Peter’s crotch. A hefty groan comes out of Peter, and he detaches his lips from your breasts, easily lifting you up with one hand while the other begins to undo his pants. You mirror his actions, doing the same to your pants, tossing your bottoms and underwear to the floor. Peter wiggled out of his pants and boxers, his cocks twitching and springing up as your exposed core slowly rubbed itself on his shaft. You can already see the pre-cum forming at the head, and you eagerly lick your lips, wanting to wrap your mouth around his member. 

Suddenly, Peter grabs you by the waist and flips you over so that he’s on top. As you expect him to unleash all of his strength onto you, Peter delicately kisses you, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. While his touches send shivers down your spine, melting your heart, you’re impatient, wanting more. You softly push him away, and for a moment, Peter thinks he’s done something wrong. 

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Peter anxiously asked, scanning your face to see if he could detect what was bothering you. You bit your lip in anticipation, petrified that if you said what was on your mind, it would ruin the mood. A million reasons swirled around his mind and he feared that he’s gone too far; he assumed you didn’t feel comfortable anymore to continue your sexual activities. What Peter failed to realize was that you didn’t regret anything. “Tell me, baby,” Peter reassured you, placing light kisses on your face and neck. You cave into his touch, and you feel your muscles relax.  

“I want you,” you started off, raking your fingers across his chest. “But, I need rough sex, Peter,” you needily whimpered, biting your lip in the process, causing Peter to lean back, his eyes widening. “Please, fuck me as hard as you can. I want Daniel to know how good you’re fucking me.”

You intently stare at Peter’s face, scared that he was going to say no, but then you notice his pupils dilate, his eyes darkening as he listened to your words. The mere mention of Daniel’s name caused Peter to shake from rage, but then something switched inside of Peter, and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Damn Y/N,” Peter replies, biting his lower lip. A small moan escapes Peter’s mouth as he realizes what you’re asking of him, and he absolutely loves it; Peter feels his cock twitch from excitement as he repeated your words over and over again in his mind, and it drove him insane. Peter couldn’t believe it; here he was, thinking you were going to be an innocent girl, but oh no - he was wrong, and boy did he love it. Peter bit his lip in hunger, his eyes taking in your body once more. The thought of mercilessly pounding into you without anything stopping him caused more pre-cum to leak out of his cock, and Peter was more than prepared to grant you what so deeply desired.

“As you wish, darling.” Peter peppered kisses against the nape of your neck and before you know it, Peter firmly grabs you by the neck. You let out a soft gasp at his sudden change of behavior, but then a whimper escapes out of you as Peter crashes his lips onto yours, and you allow him to take full control. 

“Fuck Peter.” You moan as you buck your hips up, needing him to be inside of you. You were becoming impatient, but Peter darkly chuckled as he brought his face close to yours.

“Oh no baby,” he scolds, a smirk forming on his face. “I’ll be inside you when I want to. You understand?” You feel as if you’re about to cry out in pain and pleasure, but you’re willing to do anything for Peter. You frantically nod your head, hoping it will satisfy Peter. 

Peter’s grip got tighter, unhappy that you didn’t verbally respond. “You better speak right now or I swear, I’ll tease you until you’re a crying mess.” 

“Yes, Peter. I understand, baby,” you affirmed as Peter hummed in satisfaction. Peter slowly released the tight grip he had before rummaging through the nightstand. Peter pulls out a condom but before you even have time to ask him where he got it, he tears it open with his mouth and puts on the safety. Without any warning or hesitation, Peter roughly turns you around, your chest pressed down against the bed. You immediately understand what he wants, and you quickly get on all fours, laying your head on the pillow and perking your ass up, giving Peter a complete view of your core. Peter groans at the sight as you flirtatiously wiggle your bare ass in front of him, and he leans back to admire the view for a short moment. 

“Look at you,” he seductively whispered, causing you to become even more aroused as his words drip out of his mouth like sweet honey. “All ready for me, such a good girl.” 

Suddenly, Peter slams into you, and you let out the loudest noise you’ve ever made, finally satisfied that he was inside you. However, Peter doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his large size, but you cry out in frustration, wanting him to pound into you mercilessly. You attempt to move, but Peter roughly grabs your hips, refraining you. Peter lets out a heavy exhalation, absolutely melting into you as he felt your pretty folds swallow him up. It was majestic. 

“Shit,” Peter mutters, “You’re so tight, Y/N.” Peter slowly begins to move, but in an instant, his pace starts to accelerate. Peter pounds into your cunt; it was ruthless, exhilarating, and animalistic, and you rolled your eyes in utter pleasure, your mouth hanging open.

You’re a writhing mess, spelling out incoherent words as Peter tightly held onto your waist and slammed into you. You knew there was going to be bruises due to his death grip, but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you made you totally forget. The slight pain was gone as pleasure overstimulated your body, and you arched your back in response, repeating Peter’s name. You clamped onto the sheets for dear life, your head laying on the pillows, your sounds being muffled. The sound of skin slapping echoed around the room, and Peter gasps and curses, becoming a panting mess as he doesn’t intend on stopping anytime soon.

Peter grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head off the pillow, and your moans become louder. “That’s right,” Peter reassured, releasing your hair and moving his hand towards your neck. “Scream for me, baby. Let him know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Ah, Peter! Faster, please! Ohh fuck Peter, shit!“ you scream, holding onto his arm for support. 

“Can Daniel fuck you like this?” Peter asked, digging his knees deeper into the bed and moving his hips at a faster rate. Peter’s cock was stretching you out, and you were loving every minute of it. 

“No! Peter -Shit!- only you can! Only you can make me feel like this.” You cry out in pleasure, your hair sticking to your sweaty back and chest. Peter groans in satisfaction, your words encouraging him to move faster.

“Exactly, you’re fucking mine - all mine.” Your walls contract around him at his words, and Peter feels a familiar feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He detaches himself from you, pulling out for a brief moment before forcing you to lay on your back. Peter’s hand gingerly returns to your waist, savoring this moment. Both of you heavily pant as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Peter leans in, passionately kissing you.

“Shit Peter!” you squeal in shock as you feel his cock enter you without hesitation, your nails clutching onto his contracting muscles. 

“Whose pussy is this?” Peter grunted, fully slamming his cock into your pussy. A high pitch scream comes out of your mouth but you’re unable to form coherent words, completely discombobulated. Peter’s cock perfectly fills you up, and you desperately stare into his eyes, digging your sharp nails in his back. “I said,” Peter angrily repeated, tightly squeezing your neck. “Whose pussy is this?” 

“Yours,” you mewl as you began to feel a knot form in your stomach. 

“That’s right, baby,” Peter asserted, sweat trickling down his face, chest, and back. You closed your eyes, completely aroused by Peter’s rough side, and Peter couldn’t help but trace over your body. He admired the way your breasts bounced as he pounded into you, the way your face contorted in total ecstasy, and the way your hair was a mess - a mess that he made from fucking you so good. 

“I’m so close, baby -Fuck I’m s-so close-“ You feel the knot get stronger. Peter continues to thrust into you, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Peter’s fingers find its way to your clit, rapidly rubbing circles, and you let out a whine. 

“Come for me, darling. Come all over my cock,” Peter coaxed you, his words sending you over the edge. Your hands grip onto his arms for dear life as you let out a throat-ripping moan, your body shaking in the process. Peter comes right after you, his hands resting beside your head, firmly clutching onto the sheets as he, too, let out a groan. Peter’s body collapses onto yours, and your fingers find its way to the curls at the back of his head, burying themselves in his smooth hair. For a while, the room goes silent, and all you can hear are the heavy pants coming out of your mouths. Peter is still inside you, but you don’t mind at all. Peter’s body slowly rises and falls as he comes down from his high, and his hands cradle your face; Peter leaves a sloppy yet passionate kiss, and once again, you melt into his arms. 

You whimper as you feel Peter’s member pull out, and you watch as Peter wobbly stands up to throw away the condom. You intently stare at his chest as he walks back to you, and you notice the fresh scratch marks you left. You feel your cheeks turn red, but Peter gives you a soft smile, mentally telling you that it was fine. Finally, Peter gets back into bed and pulls the covers over your bodies. Your turn to lay on his side, lovingly gazing into his eyes. 

“Wow,” was all you managed to say, “That was fucking amazing.” Peter lets out a chuckle, becoming flustered as you continued to praise him. 

“Do you think Daniel heard?” you wondered, softly rubbing Peter’s chest. 

“I think the whole floor heard,” Peter truthfully responded, scratching the back of his head. You lightly laugh at his comment, your eyes glistening with joy, before pressing a tender kiss on Peter’s lips. Good, you thought to yourself, now everyone knows how great Peter is at sex. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “Did I hurt you?” Your heart melted in your chest as you realized how worried Peter was. You shook your head, easing him. “I’m fine, Peter.” However, the dryness of your throat made it hard for you to speak, and Peter knew that you needed something to drink. 

“Let’s get you something to drink, there’s a vending machine right out the door,” Peter offered, to which you accepted. You were desperately craving water, but you also fancied a small snack to munch on. Peter and you got out of bed -despite how sore your bodies were - and you instinctively bent down and grabbed your underwear and Peter’s shirt. Peter felt an enormous grin grow on his face as he watched you, and you returned the smile when you felt his eyes on you. 

You walked towards the door with nothing but his shirt and underwear whereas Peter was only wearing his boxer shorts; just as you opened the door and stepped out of the room, with Peter right behind you, your eyes landed on Daniel, who, as well, opened your hotel door the exact moment you did. Daniel tightly clutched his book bag, but as he turned around to head down the hallway, his eyes found yours. He deeply stared, noticing how your makeup was smeared, your hair was tangled, and Peter’s chest was covered with scratches and bruises. 

You broke eye-contact, your face expressionless, as you turned to the left, heading towards the vending machine that was feet away from where you stood. 

Peter bitterly glared down Daniel, but then Peter mirrored your movements, leaning against the machine. Peter took notice of how Daniel was glued to the floor, and Peter flared his nostrils, disliking how Daniel continued to gawk at you. 

Yet, Peter didn’t mind that you were only wearing his t-shirt in the middle of the hallway. He knew Daniel had a perfect view of your ass, which was barely covered by the thin fabric, but Peter didn’t care because he knew that the moment you entered his hotel room, he was going to relentlessly fuck you again until you couldn’t walk anymore. As you were still deciding what snack to choose from, Peter slightly turned his head to the side, a smug expression cemented on his face as he watched Daniel awkwardly stand in front of your door. Daniel’s face was bright red, most likely due to his rage of knowing what you and Peter were doing, but Peter remained unbothered, rejoicing that he was able to rile up Daniel with so much ease. 

Peter sent a coy wink to Daniel as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his arms and placing sloppy kisses on your exposed neck while still holding eye-contact with Daniel. You leaned your head back, exposing more skin for Peter, knowing fully well of what he was trying to do. However, you didn’t object at all. A pool of your wetness started to drip onto your underwear, and you softly let out a discreet moan as Peter’s hand tightly clutched your ass. You loved how Peter was gloating to Daniel, reveling in the fact that you were Peter’s and only his. Your lips curved upwards as you heard Daniel let out a huff of frustration, mumbling incoherent words as he stormed down the hallway.  

Once Daniel was gone, you wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck, your fingers delicately playing with the strands of his hair as a giggle escaped from your lips. You placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“You’re such an ass,” you joked, shaking your head as you divert your attention back to the vending machine. Peter shrugged his shoulders, not caring that Daniel was probably going to cry in his room, knowing you slipped away from his fingers. “Asshole deserves it,” Peter blankly declared. You bit your lip in frustration, your eyes glancing at the snacks before Peter rested his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist once again.

“C’mon baby,” Peter seductively whispered. His hands discreetly snuck underneath your shirt and his fingers started to play your nipples, slowing pitching them in the process. You let out a soft gasp, shocked that Peter had the courage to do this in the hallway, but then you felt yourself become aroused, ready to start round two. “We still have a few hours before everyone comes back,” Peter murmured, biting your earlobe in the process.

You let out a big sigh. “Screw it,” you said, quickly forgetting about the snack and grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter bit his lip, a devious smirk forming on his lips as you dragged him back to the room, eager to continue your previous activity. 

Despite Peter’s plan not going accordingly, he was’t complaining. To say the least, Peter was fully satisfied, especially after the several rounds he had with you. 

[squarecarousel]

Challenge 144: 10 Years, Looking Forward: A-Frame Studio Life Buckle up-- this is a long one! Wow, ten years. It’s hard to believe a whole decade has passed since Square Carousel began, and since I graduated college. In some ways, it feels like another lifetime, and in others, it feels vastly shorter than the decade before that, from ages 12 to 22. Time is fascinating that way. College was such an incredibly impactful time period, but just a measly 4 years-- I could have done college 2.5 more times back-to-back in the years since I graduated, but somehow those four, from 2007-2011 were monumental.  It’s hard to believe I’ll be in a post-college world without Square Carousel, since the group has been a constant in my life these last ten years. I’m really proud that we made it this far and are able to choose to end the journey, rather than it fizzling out or dying from lack of interest. Sometimes it felt like that might happen, but other times it felt like we were blooming. There have been many ups and downs over the course of this journey. And damn, it was a lot of hard to work to keep running, but I am so grateful for the learning experience. I know so much more about leadership now than I ever would have before-- the delicate balance of having rules to keep the group running (deadlines, participation requirements, our dreaded “strike system”) and keeping up morale (knowing when to forgive slip-ups, keeping challenges sufficiently entertaining and well...challenging, making sure the group feels like it’s a community). Elizabeth and I were reluctant leaders, just naturally having to take those roles as other original members of the group left and were replaced by folks who needed guidance. We definitely didn’t seek it out, but we knew that if the group were to stay alive, we had to put some structure into the system. Pretty early on we made our rules and guidelines, extended the challenges to 3 weeks from just 2, and worked on our visual image online. Our awesome logo was made by former member Casey Crisenbery, and we switched from Wordpress to Tumblr, purchasing a URL, and Casey using special code for custom organization on the site. Sketch critiques were now a halfway point through our 3 weeks-long challenge, which helped a lot with the community aspect and engagement. We started doing interviews for each member, reaching out to other illustration groups, blogs and submission sites and had our work featured on a few of them. Some of us even got jobs from the connections made through Square Carousel!  There was a bad stretch several years ago when I wasn’t sure we’d make it through, with toxic behavior and a few folks petitioning for removing deadlines and structure, making everything optional. One thing I can tell you with certainty after ten years of working with artists is that 95% of us require deadlines to do anything, and incentives/obligations for meeting those deadlines, or it just isn’t going to happen! Elizabeth and I, along with a few other solid members, were able to keep the structure we’d worked hard to create, but the toxic culture had already killed group morale and we lost a lot of members simultaneously. That was a sad and scary time for Square Carousel, but I didn’t want to go out on a sour note. So the small group of us picked the pieces back up again, did a little refocus on our goals as a collective and created an “Admin” so Elizabeth and I didn’t have to carry the entire burden alone. I am forever grateful to Sayada and Jordan for stepping up into these roles to help us get the train back on track. Sayada especially picked up a lot of responsibilities that a newer member shouldn’t have to worry about, and was a total rockstar for Square Carousel. I wish we’d had her with us for the whole ride. I’m so happy that we’ve had a few really great years with some really loyal and talented artists to round out the experience at Year Ten.  There is nobody I’m more thankful for than my Good Cop, Elizabeth, though. She was so reliable, always able to provide balance in our leadership roles, and such a wonderful shoulder to cry on when things got too stressful. Elizabeth, thank you for this journey and for being my SC Wife all these years! It’s so funny because of all the original members, you were one of the only ones I hadn’t really known from SCAD classes, yet you’re the SCAD Illustration friend I have remained most connected to most consistently. Nothing bonds you quite like running an illustration collective does! It also cracks me up that in all these years, we hadn’t ever facetimed or talked on the phone until a few months ago--I didn’t even know your mannerisms or voice, but knew you so well anyway. My greatest internet friend! I love you dearly and it truly won’t feel right, the absence of our weekly SC conversations. Thank you for all of the memories! As just a member and artist, this group has helped me grow so much professionally. It was my client when I didn’t have clients. It was my motivation to paint when I didn’t feel creative. It was my source of portfolio-worthy work, but also my safe place to experiment and fail when I was trying something new. The girl who started as a Square Carousel member freshly graduated in 2011 was working part-time at Urban Outfitters, had basically no money, and no clue how to promote herself. The “studio” was a corner of the bedroom and nobody took her seriously. But a stubborn dedication and the security, purpose and structure of Square Carousel helped the slow change from that lost girl to a full-time freelancing woman. Now, in 2021, I have been doing freelance illustration fully for six years, through contract jobs, editorial, publishing, advertising, commission and local work, as well as selling prints and products online, in local shops and events. I am not making the big bucks, certainly, and I still have goals I’m working towards, but damn, if that isn’t a glow-up, I don’t know what is. Thank you for helping me achieve my impossible dream, Square Carousel, and always being a place with the right amount of advice, support and critique. Ten years, 34 artist interviews, 38 artists, and 144 challenges. I’m the only member to have completed every single one. 144 illustrations through the years. Some were game-changers for my style and my portfolio. Some were total stinkers and I hope you don’t go looking for them. But all were an important step in my career.   So, in ten more years? I’ll be 42 years old, which is very weird because I have never imagined myself that old before... it’s hard to honestly say what that would look like, especially considering the world we are currently living in and how the last 4/5 years have proven that anything (awful) can happen. Jordan and I have a goal to move to Colorado in the next 4 or 5 years, and I’d love to have a little A-Frame in the mountains with a loft studio, shown in my illustration here. Texas has become extremely problematic, especially after the winter storm in February of this year, and will be impacted greatly by climate change, both environmentally and economically. Right now, Austin is still booming, but at some point the lack of foresight in this state’s government is going to screw over the residents and it will be one of the places from which climate refugees run. Is that tomorrow? No, obviously not. But I want to already be settled someplace more stable, having grown some roots, before other folks start to roll in. But, to be able to do that, I need to rely less on my local jobs and connections and be able to have an “anywhere career.” So right now I am focusing on expanding in that way, particularly with book cover illustration and design. I’ve been doing a lot of portfolio work and self-publishing jobs, and hope to get an agent that can shop my work to big-time publishers sometime in the next year or two. Let’s say I succeed at all of those things in five years-- we’re in our Colorado A-Frame, I’m illustrating book covers (and I’ve also convinced my parents to come with me, and maybe a couple friends!). The next five years after that? I don’t know... hopefully a lot of adventures. Hopefully a lot of cool jobs, but also a lot of work/life balance. Right now, I don’t want kids, so the A-Frame will be filled with cats. Maybe we’ll have an old camper van for regular road trips around the western National Parks. I’d love for my work to reflect those passions-- more jobs with outdoor brands, parks, organizations. More book covers for stuff I’d personally love to read and keep on my overflowing shelf. That’s the vague goal for me in ten years, but I don’t want to plan any further than that, because life just also needs to happen the way it’s going to happen. There are parts of my current life I planned for in 2011... and there are parts I never, ever would have guessed. I hope there’s some fun surprises in 2031, too. Thanks for the decade, Square Carousel. Joining illustration collectives will always be the first bit of advice I give fresh graduates. Caitlin

[houseofhalation]

Am I attempting to write slice of life comedy because I’m depressed and having a hard time writing the three billion other things I have going on, despite never having written slice of life comedy ever at all in my entire life? Yeah.

Am I sticking my entire middle finger up at the canon as it stands and doing whatever I want? Also yeah.

Anyway enjoy the first part of this so far untitled thing. Lots of swearing, currently genderless MC, let’s all ignore the canon for a minute okay?

Monday mornings are extremely, unrelentingly, unquestionably cursed. Nothing good ever happens on a Monday. That’s how you know you’re utterly boned when your boss asks you to come in early for a private meeting. On a Monday.

Fuck. 

You haul yourself out of bed and wonder how much effort you should put into your appearance if you’re getting fired. Eventually you settle on not too much and crawl your way into the office, a prompt forty-five minutes before it’s actually meant to open. Most things are still dark. Your desk looks cold and neglected, and you wish you could have neglected it for just a bit longer. 

The bushy facial hair on your boss’s lips twitches in what is either a smile or a grimace when he sees you, and while you’re not sure which would be best to see at the moment, you think that it’s maybe not a grimace. You heave a sigh and follow him into his office, staring out his window into the still-sleeping city. 

He sits down behind his desk. 

You sit across from him, wondering if you should have brought a box or if your tote bag is big enough to carry everything out in. Regardless, it’s going to be a bitch to haul the contents of your desk home on the subway. 

He stares at you long enough that you start to wonder if you called the meeting. Then you remember that’s absurd. Isn’t it? It’s becoming abundantly clear that you shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine before going to bed. 

“We have a new client,” your boss says, and because you’re too busy wondering if your LinkedIn profile is up to date and considering his similarities to a walrus, you don’t immediately hear his words. They hit you like a brick wall.

“Okay,” you say because you’re not sure what else there is to say. 

“They’re out of the country,” he continues, looking more and more nervous. The last time he’s looked this nervous a prominent client went on a week-long bender and livestreamed most of it. Christ, that had been a mess to clean up and almost made you go on a bender of your own.

“You noted on your application that you wouldn’t mind relocating,” he says as if he can read your thoughts. “And you’re the only one in the firm without a family, so…”

It doesn’t sound like you’re being fired. 

“I’m not being fired?” You ask because you just have to be sure. Your boss blinks down at you and cements the walrus imagery in your mind forever. 

“Of course not,” he tells you. “They’ve requested someone to handle all of their online presence, and the firm determined that you would be the best fit.”

Most likely because as the newest hire, you’re lowest on the totem pole. Ugh.

“Now, you’ll be living on campus, so all of your accommodations will be taken care of. Nothing to worry about, really. The contract is indeterminate, so you’ll be there for��” your boss’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips and oh, shit, he’s super nervous. Not a good sign. “You’ll be there for as long as they need you to be,” he finally finishes. He slides a suspiciously slim manilla folder across his desk at you, narrowly missing one of his goofy little desk decorations as he does so. You flip it open and find a single page inside. 

Welcome to the Royal Academy of Diavolo! It proclaims proudly, right beside poorly-framed, blurry photographs of what you assume is a student, dressed up either for a theatre production or for a halloween event. Either way, not a super awesome first impression. You can’t even tell how old the student is supposed to be.

“Is this it?” You wave the single paper beside your head as if waiting for it to multiply magically. Your boss has the decency to look ashamed. “Can you tell me anything else about it?”

“It’s a school,” he says. 

“Right, but… College? University? Primary education? Public? ...Private?” Probably private, you determine with another glance at the name, and christ, is that comic sans? Your boss coughs lightly.

“It’s a school,” he says again, as if that in any way answers any of your questions. 

Fucking fantastic.

---

If you didn’t need the money so bad, you’d have tossed the sad excuse for a client profile in the trash. What the hell is your boss thinking, taking on this client? But you do need the money, so you go home and pack a few bags and look at your sad, shitty little apartment you sublet from your college roommate. They’ll be able to find someone new no problem, and you’re honestly not too sad to be saying goodbye to the shoebox. 

Sayo-fucking-nara. 

At least room and board is covered at your new gig at the mystery school.

---

You agreed to meet at the train station because that’s a public place with plenty of security cameras and witnesses, and honestly, if you’re going to get murdered for this job you want your kidnapping to be recorded, at the very least. You don’t know if your chauffeur is going to be holding a little sign with your name on it like in the movies or not, but you think probably not. You scan the crowd for someone who looks like they're from the Royal Academy of Whevever-the-hell and give up after an hour of sitting on the hard wooden bench provided for poor schmucks like you. 

The whole thing is probably a joke. Ha, ha. Very fucking funny, let’s haze the new employee. A lawsuit sounds like the perfect way to round out your Monday morning. 

Irritated at a brand new level, you haul your bags into the bathroom after you, fully intending to splash some water on your face. If you didn’t think they’d get stolen, you’d have left them behind on the bench. But seeing as how just about every earthly possession you have is within them, you’re not too keen on the idea.

So they follow you into the pitch-black void that is meant to be the restroom, which really, is just another cherry on the shit sundae that has become your morning. You’re tired, in the last place you want to be right now, chasing after some stupid-sounding client that probably doesn’t exist, and now the electricity is on the fritz.

Perfect.

Awesome.

Two enthusiastic thumbs up. 

You swallow a growl and fling out your arm, fully intending to find the wall and, hopefully, the lightswitch. You don’t find anything at all, just more black void, and why the hell aren’t your eyes adjusting so you take a mincing step forward. And then another. 

And another, just for good measure, which turns out to be the wrong decision, all things considered. You go hurtling forward and just before you make impact, all you can think is they’d better have cleaned this godforsaken floor sometime this decade before you smash against flagstone.

Not the tile you’d been expecting. 

What?

Your phone skitters out of your hands and you hear something on it snap with a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. That sounded expensive and you don’t relish trying to get it fixed on a budget. Not to mention that you’re… somewhere and without a means of communication. 

“Oh!” Someone exclaims from above you just as you become aware that you can see. Kind of. The lights are still dim, but the moon gleaming in from the huge windows provides at least a little light to see by.

Wait.

Windows?

“You’re early,” the voice says, interrupting your stalled-out train of thought. Hands reach down and pick up your bags, and then help you to your feet. You allow them to because this has to be a dream. You’ve not woken up just yet, surely, and any minute now you will, and you’re going to get fired like you thought you were going to be. This is just a stress dream. A weird one.

“Sorry about that; we didn’t expect you for a few more minutes. Things were still being prepared.”

Or you’re dead. You’ve died in your sleep of an aneurysm or something and this is your brain’s last dying gasps as it tries to make sense of all your misfiring neurons or whatever. It’s been a long time since freshman biology class. 

“Either way, let me be the first to introduce you to both the Royal Academy of Diavolo and the Devildom!”

You stare dumbly up at the huge mountain of a man, dressed in what looks absurdly like a red military uniform. He smiles widely at you, eyes crinkled up in expressions of pure joy like you’re not dying or stuck in a fever dream. You pinch yourself hard on your arm.

Son of a bitch, it hurts.

Which means it’s high time your brain catches up and tries to process all of the words that have been spoken at you. A herculean task, really, because they don’t make a lick of sense and now that you think about it, maybe you hit your head when you tripped in the dark. Yeah. That would make sense. You’ve got a concussion, probably. Those come with hallucinations, right? You have no idea how concussions work, but that doesn’t stop you from deciding you have one.

“This… is not the bathroom,” you announce. 

[theblackbirdsgemimagines]

May I request for the Leona, Vil, Azul and our boy Jack getting stuck in their MC's world and their experience? (MC is with them)

Oh sweet Jesus akdhakdhsk FORGIVE ME OF MY RATHER CYNICAL OUTLOOK ON OUR LIL BLUE PLANET 😬 I think it’s understandable to be more cynical than ever in this Hell Year, lolll

Send these poor, sweet babies back home, they deserve better than to be stuck here of all places 😅 ESPECIALLY JACK AAAAAA SAVE THE BABY 💔

Ok, not even going to play with you... Vil would thrive, lol.

Just give him time enough to stop panicking over all his lost clothes, magic, etc., and find new things that works for him and his detailed self-care routine, and whatever he chooses to do, he will make Fat Stacks in.

He’s the male version of Belle Delphine, here ajdhakdhsj

He appears anywhere, on tv with some company to continue his performer career he had back home, or on youtube/instagram, and he is almost immediately just as famous here as he was in Wonderland.

Can we really blame anyone, tho? Look at him.

And there’s no Neige here!

Also, ‘my’ Vil is definitely the one that knows there are many different ways to be beautiful~. He may be a bit more blunt to his friends if he thinks they’re not quite hitting the usual mark their talents place them in. But that’s only because he cares about them, and wants everyone to see their best, as he does~. He’s an absolutely encouraging sweetheart to anyone else/a beginner at whatever their passion is, though~. And either way, he’s your best cheerleader~.

Of course he still just doesn’t feel himself without his magic, or ability to do potions. I don’t think he’d find the witchcraft in our world would suit him very well.

If he was really stuck for good, of course he’d make the best of it. But if he could go home, especially if you wanted to go back with him, he’d jump at the chance. And always be on the lookout for the chance.

But that being said, I think, aside from all the world’s problems, of course, he’d find it interesting just how similar, and vastly different, things are here.

He donates Ass Loads to so many charities, like honestly.

Rich boy knows his privilege, and lets others ride off his advantages as much as he can. 💜

He becomes friends with James Charles. You know he does.

You can’t be truly fully beautiful if you’re not also lovely on the inside, too, after all~!

Rip Rook wherver he is, he is lost without his Queen 😔

Gosh, in direct contrast to Vil, Leona probably suffers the most over here?? Jahdkshdj

I know they based his sleep habits off a irl lion, but that also sounds just a Tad Bit like possible depression to me (along with a lot of the other ways he’s behaved so far, lol).

Get this sweetheart to some therapy, maybe?? Help him get a lil energy boost at least to help him feel better 💛

He’s going to HATE the work pace people have to maintain just to eat here, 100%.

He enjoys the entertainment the most, though~. Video games, things you can watch online, all those sorts of things~. Might like a few of our sports, too~.

Poor bby struggles with having to work, though, please help him 💔

At least he doesn’t have to live under being Forever Prince, here, and doesn’t have to worry about turning anything he touches to sand. And the lions in the zoos are pretty cool to go see~!

He’d probably love it if he could go to Africa and see what our “Afterglow Savannah” looks like here~. Meet the lions that are in the wild~.

I imagine he and Jack would both lose the ears for human ones, and the tails, too. (😢💔) So he probably feels weird seeing himself like that, and might miss his tail. Especially if it helped him with balance. Give him some time to adjust to it~. There’s these neat new tails people made for cosplay, that can move around on their own, if he’d like one to help him not miss his old one so much~!

I had to really think about what the heck he’d even do for a job, cause he’s so grumpy to everyone, retail’s just OUT, lol. And I don’t think he’d be that great at something like youtube, either ajdhsjjd

It’s hard for him to not just lay around all lazy, rather than think of stuff to do for it/actually get up and go do it. Let alone all the meetings, and interacting with fans, and the like.

So maybe actually being one of the zookeepers would be a good fit for him~. He’d be obligated to actually go, and he’d get to be around lots of different animals~. Might help him feel more at home, too~. I think he’d be pretty good at it, and the animals would probably be drawn to him~ 💛

He’d also absolutely challenge the authority here (or anywhere else that has appalling governments, especially if they’re not run by women). The state of things, and the way women and minorities are treated by white men around the world, and men in general, would absolutely appall him. He so drunk on that respecc women juice, he just can’t wrap his head around what the hell the problem is with those rich assholes in power. Put him in power, and he’ll ruthlessly show them what-for! ALL the others behind him would be women! Good grief, humans!

All in all, he doesn’t mind it here, but would also prefer to be home, where he can sleep more, and Ruggie can run around for him most of the time, lol

Besides, that allowed him to spend more time with you~! 💛

(LOOKIT THAT HAPPY BOY SMILE!!! I’M DEAD 💞💞💞)

Oh, Jack. Sweet, sweet Jack.

He absolutely becomes a personal trainer as a job, here. 1000%. He lives that Exercise Junkie Lifestyle, there’s just no doubt about it.

He’s VERY encouraging to his students, though~! Build up that beef, guys, he has total faith in you~! 🤍🤍

He absolutely loooooooves going anywhere to see wolves. He’d probably really love the wooded mountains in Europe, if you ended up there, or in Oregon/Washington if you ended up here in America~. Definitely Canada, or Alaska, too~! Just give him huge trees, snowy winters, and nearby mountains, and he feels right at home~.

Idk if he’d miss his magic a whole heck of a lot, tbh?? But he WOULD miss his friends and family! It’s just not quite the same here, though he thinks it’s beautiful and interesting to see where you came from~. 🤍

He’s a good boy 😭

Also appalled with the state of so many rulers and governings both in your home, and around most of the world, lol.

He can’t stand seeing so many people suffer like that! How can they possibly live the life that’s the most healthy and happy for them to live, disabled, chronically ill, or not, if they’re suffering under an iron fist all the time?!

He CAN’T stand for it. You won’t stop him till he sees good change starting to finally happen. Especially if you live here! There’s no way he can just sit around and have you be subjected to that!

HE’S A GOOD BOY 😭

You gotta calm him down a lot and remind him there are others just as good and kind as he is, fighting to change things too 🤍

God help people if he gets here anytime within 2020-2021. He’s sucker punching nearly everyone he sees without a mask.

He’s also sucker punching every nazi he sees, too.

My goodness, please show him the movie Wolf Children! He’ll hide the fact he’s crying multiple times through it, but it’s one of his favorite movies here~.

If you do manage to go back to Wonderland, please try to bring a copy of it with you. It’s the one thing he’ll miss most, and keep asking to watch with you again, before remembering it doesn’t exist there. 😭

He also misses his tail and ears a lot. Losing all of that + his senses would be very a very awkward adjustment for him, and he wouldn’t really like it poor bby 💔 Give him lots of hugs to compensate U-U 🤍

His favorite thing to do with you would probably be to go hiking, and stay in a little cabin in the woods, for a week or two~. Somewhere in one of the previously mentioned places~.

(I couldn’t find a chibi gif of Azul to use, rip 😭)

Azul is just straight up becoming a mafia boss, probably wkdhakdjjs.

He’s the ‘good’ kind, though. He’s learned his lesson since his overblot, and he won’t outright kill people for not paying him back, or introduce drugs, or anything like that.

He’ll help people obtain what they want as legally as possible... But that doesn’t mean he still won’t be sly as hell about it, haha~.

He’ll protect loyal/good customers and the areas they live in, too~. In fact, he’d probably reDUCE crime from doing so.

He just learns all the dirty ins and outs of everything about how things run here. And as much as he’ll fight for change as the others would, because there’s no way any of that is an acceptable way for you to live, he’ll work dirty in order to take advantage of the system, to do so. What better way, right? Make the dominos fall from the inside out.

He’s a good business man, he knows doing so would also benefit him, too.

He’s like Bruce Wayne if Bruce Wayne was a rich mafia leader jeehskdje

Need health benefits to work for him? Covered. Need above-average pay to actually afford your bills and other stuff? Covered. Need education to do a job for him? They’ll train you.

He’s also practically a Gordon Ramsey, tbh. Lots of his bars will pop up across the world, if he stays here long enough, lol. But they’ll all help a good number of people, in doing so~.

He also donates as much as he can, too. If he’s gonna become even a fraction as rich as Jeff Bozos, he’s ending world hunger and homelessness every year.

And boy oh BOY will he swindle the rich akdhakdhwj

He will whip them so hard, they won’t know what the hell hit them.

He may have been under restrictions at the college, but he sure as hell isn’t here. Watch out as he spreads his tentacles wings.

And, of course, he adores being anywhere near the coast. Doesn’t matter what part of the world you’re in, he just needs to be by the sea.

All the polution absolutely breaks his sweet little heart, and that’s one of the first things on his list to fix. Dealing with trash back home was much easier... you could just zap it all away at big trash fields. But you don’t have that luxury here.

Being that he doesn’t really like his ocotpus form (bbyyyyyy 😢💔), he probably doesn’t mind the permanent legs. At least he doesn’t have to constantly take a potion to keep them, anymore.

But it’s still awkward to get used to. And he can’t stand that he can’t breathe underwater anymore, or go too far down without dying from the pressure.

He’ll dive as often as he can~. And loves to dive, or snorkle, or just swim~, with you, if you want to join him~.

He does miss his home, if only for the beauty and familiarity it had, despite a lot of bad memories around it. But there’s no doubt he’d thrive here, in a way only he could~.

He totally believes your own version of mermaids exists, and gets excited over anything that could prove it to be true 😅

Plus, he’s just obsessed with how marine life works here in general~. If he can juggle being a freakin maffia boss, and a marine biologist just out of the pure love for it, I have no doubt he’d do it~.

Humans most likely evolved from creatures in the water?? That’s amazing~! So the ocean feels like a distant memory of a second home~! He’d love to bond over that, the romantic~ 💜

[simplyyeol]

what happens in paris

genre — soulmate! au, fluff, angst-ish

pairing — baby boy pcy x reader

word count — 10.085 what the fuck

warnings — language 

description — you find yourself going on a trip to paris with your soulmate. it’s not too bad if you manage to overlook the fact that he hates your guts.

author’s note — hello! i don’t really know if i did this au well or not, but you know. me. back at it again with the cliches. sorry in advance, there is alot of cliche i hope it didn’t drag out too long i tried to incorporate a lot of thought bc character development! idk. also this might be my favorite thing i’ve written so far gahhd! yeah. anyways, enjoy! this took way longer than it should’ve

A smile bloomed on your face as you hopped out of the taxi, the driver coming around to help your excited state grab your luggage from the trunk. You politely said your thank you, bowing, having already paid in the car before practically skipping inside the terminal.

Checking your phone, the online check-in page of your ticket confirmation shown before you double-checked the text. You were at the right terminal, you thought. Nothing had gone wrong so far. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before entering the airport. 

The line for the online check-in was thankfully short as you passed through that with smiles. There was still two hours until your boarding time you noticed, stopping in the middle of the crowd, not certain on where to go next. Baekhyun had said he would meet you at the airport—you'd forgotten to ask him where and when. 

That was when you saw Chanyeol.

Or he saw you. There was something in the air that made your eyes tear away from your screen, your finger hovering over Baekhyun's contact. Something made you drawn towards his broad figure, that made you catch his eye when his wardrobe was nothing special—it wouldn't have caught your eye given someone else was wearing the same thing. Then again, you pondered, he is your soulmate. Maybe he felt whatever it was too as his step faltered, taking you in, with no one surrounding you. If it weren’t for the mop of striking silver hair he’d dyed it earlier in the year, or his long limbs, or even his pointy ears that stood out from under his beanie, you would’ve never guessed it was him. Or you would’ve. Only because of the sixth sense you get when you meet your soulmate.

Not many people meet their soulmate. It’s a fact. You’d had to do a research paper on it once in middle school and if you remember correctly, only 8% of the world’s population find their soulmate. And you happened to be in that 8%. 

You’d seen him at the beginning of freshman year, during your first week, when you felt something wash over you as he made eye contact. Like someone poured a ton of warmth and covered you with a blanket while giving you some hot cocoa. You’ve only ever heard of soulmates with happy endings so when he’d turned away, a frown etched on his handsome face, the fantasies running through your head broke like a dam.

He wasn’t in any of your courses last year, or your first year, but this year he was.

In your Statistics course to be exact. You’re honestly not that bad at statistics. The concepts are fine. You do pretty well on the tests too. However, you still despised Statistics with a hatred that ran deep. Obviously due to him, if that wasn’t clear enough.

Chanyeol doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t go out of his way to annoy you, tease you, or pick on you. He’s not particularly fond of you either. Maybe he knows you. You don’t know if he knows your name—although there is attendance so you could beg to differ—he acts as if you aren’t there. That his soulmate isn’t there.

The only possible honest to God answer you’ve gotten as to why he doesn’t talk to you, acts like you are nothing, like a piece of gum on someone’s shoe, is because he doesn’t like you. You’ve even overheard him telling Baekhyun that you aren’t his type. You weren’t there to hear anything else as you fled from there, eyes glassy with tears. Chanyeol is very handsome. You’d begrudgingly admitted that when you actually noticed how many girls flank his sides while he merely walks through the campus corridors. He’s tall, sporting a modelesque face, thin but you were sure he packed in some muscle underneath, and he has an amazing sense of fashion. Girls are lining over for him, left and right. 

And you—you’re just lacking. In your eyes at least. And Chanyeol’s as well.

He really took one look at you and deemed you not pretty enough to be his soulmate. He is the guy that dates the girls in the modeling and acting majors with a body and face that rival any female celebrity. You couldn’t possibly beat any of them.

If you thought about it frankly, it was pathetic. How horribly he treats you. How you look at him from the sidelines with a spotlight shining over him when he doesn’t even glance your way. How you know--even though fate literally attached you to him--it’ll never happen. You’ve gotten mad and ranted with Baekhyun about it as well (he got mad with you and claimed to come and beat him up for you, but you quickly declined not wanting to ruin his face because you just knew he would lose--and you didn’t want him to fight his friend. Yeah, your soulmate who hates you and your best friend are friends. Lucky, right?) and you said that you’d show him a piece of your mind. But the next day, your entire demeanor deflated. The voice in the back of your head started its whispering. Don’t bother him, you already know how he feels about you. And the anger left you. 

You’ve come to terms with it now—only sending the back of his head in class a few sad smiles from time to time and other than that you ignore him. If he ignores you, you should ignore him. Why should you pine over someone who barely knows you exist? (Your tiny crush on him says otherwise and acts accordingly.)

You were surprised to see him here of all places and with the luggage too. Apparently, Chanyeol was traveling for the holidays as well. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly you felt like he was analyzing you. You felt small and almost like you were about to suffocate. You tore your eyes away from him and back to your screen. Just a coincidence, you thought. No need for any bad thoughts, Y/N! Can’t let that trouble you and ruin your big, big day! Or well week since you were going to paradise for a whole five days. Too short, now that you think about it.

At the thought of why you were at the airport suddenly came crashing back on you, your previous jitters returning, you quickly pressed on your roommate's number, the calling screen popping up before you pressed it to your ear.

“Y/N? Are you here yet?” Baekhyun asked. You and Baekhyun went to the same high school and had bonded over your similar love for SNSD. You would skip class together to watch the comeback showcase and your friendship only grew from there. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when you and Baekhyun ended up going to the same college. Not many of his friends were keen on living alone, leaving the two of you on one side. You decided to live together seeing no problems arise.

“I am. Checked in my bag and I’m kind of in front of the entrance?” You said, scanning the mass of people to see if you could spot him.

“Okay, one sec, Cha—my friend is checking in his bag right now...can you meet us at the Starbucks?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You cut the call and made your way over to the Starbucks you spotted earlier.

You and Baekhyun were supposed to be going on a trip of the lifetime—to Paris of all places! It was a dream that both of you had had. He’d gone and done everything, his excitement to the max at the thought of finally being able to go traveling with you. However, in the end, he couldn’t come. He’d gotten a promotion at a radio, something he couldn’t miss. It was a big step in his singing career--people would actually be hearing him now—and you’d sadly accepted the fact that you wouldn’t be able to go with him.

He still didn’t want you going alone, the best friend he was and somehow managed to convince a friend of his to go with you. You asked which friend of his (he had too many) but he stubbornly told you it’d be a surprise. You were okay with anyone except for one person, but you had a bad feeling that crawled up your spine after your previous encounter.

You tapped at your phone, sipping your drink while playing a game that your 9-year old cousin had demanded you download as it was a must by her standards.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see Baekhyun standing over your table. You dropped your phone, practically tackling him and squealing, pulling him into a hug, the excitement rolling off you in waves.

“Well, aren’t you excited.” He mused.

“So much, you don’t even know.” You voiced, pulling back before pouting. “Now you have to tell me. Who is it?”

He smirked before cocking his head to the side. Your head whipped to where he was gesturing.

“No—” you spluttered seeing the familiar face.

“Chanyeol!” He called waving his arms, motioning for him to come here, while you had your mini panic attack.

You looked at him, something akin to fear displayed on your face. You almost threw up half the macchiato you downed just a few minutes before seeing Chanyeol rolling his luggage with him.

Baekhyun smiles, beaming, before leaning closer to your ear. “You'll thank me later.”

The excitement form your face has fully washed off, as you purse your lips. “I don’t think so, Baek.”

“See this is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d act like this.” He pouted before turning around and pulling Chanyeol to you.

“Hi.” Chanyeol starts, slowly, cautiously, as he sees you looking anywhere but at him. Was he okay with this? Going to another fucking country with you? Was he not freaking out? Did Baekhyun tell him that it was you he was going with? No— did Baekhyun bribe him? You felt small under your soulmate's eyes, and you hated it.

You almost feel like crying, and you don’t even know why as you wave a heartless wave back. You can’t deal with this right now. Nope. No way. You choose not to.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bathroom. You head into a stall and give yourself ten seconds. Ten seconds to cry before you put on a smile. A tiny sob racks out of your chest and you thank God your relationship with Chanyeol hasn’t progressed enough for him to feel your feelings. You’d actually die if that was the case.

You take a deep breath when you hit one and quickly dab at your eyes with your over-sized hoodie. At least you didn’t wear any mascara. You press the tips of your fingers, which are slightly cold, to your eyes, afraid of the puffiness before walking out of the stall. You give yourself a smile seeing no trace. You can do this. This is nothing. If anything, maybe you can try and get to know him on the trip, and maybe learn more about him and why he doesn’t like you. You paused glancing at your sparkling eyes. Nothing can ruin your first trip abroad, by yourself. Not even him. The smile you sported suddenly felt a lot less heavy from before your pep talk. I can do this, you repeated like a mantra. You whisper to yourself a small ‘fighting!’ before you walk out of the bathroom to go meet your doom.

Chanyeol frowns when he sees you, as a small thank you passes from your lips when you see your backpack on his shoulder since they’d moved from the cafe. You shoulder your backpack, ignoring the stare that you could literally feel on you from a certain giant.

“Great!” Baekhyun announces, not seeming to notice the tension between you to. Or maybe he chose to ignore it. Or it was just your imagination. “Now that you two are energized and ready to go, I’ll be taking my leave—"

“Wait!” You interject. A blush settles on your face when you realize you sounded a little too panicked to be considered cool, calm and collected. Not freaking out on the inside. “Uh...goodbye hug?” He chuckles at your excuse and opens his arms. You give him a small smile and walk in, glad for the warmth that the man practically radiates. You’re actually going to miss the annoying idiot. Even though you were going to Paris, he had wanted to go too. It was on both your bucket lists and you felt sad that he wouldn’t be there to experience it with you.

“We can always go next time,” he mutters, practically reading your thoughts. “Don’t be sad.” He let’s go, smiling down at you, and you pout as he pats your head in a teasing manner. He gives Chanyeol the more masculine hug, bro-hug you like to call it, and says his last words, turning around to leave, two of you now alone.

Well, you both were still in the airport where hundreds of people surrounded you but still, alone.

You spoke up, not sure of what to do next. “I guess we should go too—" Chanyeol turns seeing Baekhyun exit, the airport giving you one last dramatic wave, not sparing you a glance before leaving. “Or not,” You mutter, dejectedly, hurrying to follow behind him. You didn’t know if you should follow him, but the two of you were technically traveling together, right? Couldn’t hurt if you annoy him a little more.

You got on the plane with no hassle. It was a long flight, 12 hours to be exact, the longest you’ve ever been on a plane—and it wasn’t until you boarded, and put your backpack overhead, Chanyeol helping you put yours as he saw you struggling when you realized you were scared. Well, a scared type of nervous. A nervous type of scared. You forgot about the jitters that always seem to crawl up behind you when you take off. Something about the plane tilting so weird made butterflies flutter in your stomach. And not the good kind.

Your hands gripped the handlebars a little too tight, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes were shut closed as the plane lifted and you missed the glances Chanyeol sent your way seeing your frenzied state. You should really get rid of this stupid fear.

One thing you’ve noticed is that you can never sleep on planes. Well, just the first part. Trying to sleep right after taking off? Yeah, you could never. You saw Chanyeol pull an eye mask from his bag and put it on and mentally made a note to maybe try that sometime. Maybe it’d help.

The time on the tiny TV in front of you said there were almost six hours left. Halfway there. You turned from listening to music to watching a movie, and you were scrolling through the new Disney movies that were released this year when you felt something land on your shoulder.

You managed a peek and froze. It was Chanyeol. He’d wiggled out in his seat, legs awkwardly spread as they were too long from the cramped up seat and he somehow came to your height, head lolling on your shoulder. You glanced at the person sitting next to Chanyeol, an old man in his late 40’s. At least he didn’t land on him.

You let go of the breath you were holding not feeling him move and continuing to find another movie. The position looks as comfortable as it gets for an economy class ticket to Paris. You’d spare your shoulder if it meant his comfort any day.

Maybe it was after the third movie you fell asleep on Chanyeol’s head that was still resting on your shoulder.

So when he woke and found you sleeping on his head, it was the hardest minute of his life to move you comfortably to his shoulder without waking you up.

He looked at your face, a pout lining your lips. He wanted nothing more than to smash his lips on them.

When Baekhyun had asked if he'd wanted to go on a trip with you, cautiously of course (he knew your relationship with him), he'd accepted thinking that maybe he should try. He should try this whole soulmate thing with you when Baekhyun explained to him that his parents were just horrible. Not at all like what soulmates become. 

He started to regret it after seeing you at the airport and now all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his embrace and smother you with kisses. The stupid soulmate bond getting in the way of his rational thoughts. It didn't help that the hoodie you were wearing was over-sized, practically swallowing you making you look even more adorable.

He looked away, groaning, his head falling back against the seat. This is not good.

He saw the movie you were watching still playing and lightly chuckled seeing as your headphones were still on. You must’ve been really tired to have slept through that noise. He peeled them off, carefully, and turned off the screen before resting his head on yours again. He found that it was much more comfortable than the seat behind him as his eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking him once again.

When you woke, Chanyeol was already awake and your chest tightened, hoping beyond belief he didn’t mind you leaning against him. You couldn’t have him hating you any more or getting the wrong idea. But what could be the wrong idea? You were simply sleeping. Even if he did, his face was void of emotion so if he did care, he shrugged it off—maybe saying something your unconscious body had done, so it wasn’t your fault. You blew a breath out, thankful to spare the embarrassment that would’ve come if he had questioned you before the seat belt sign had turned off. You’d officially landed.

Chanyeol had gotten your backpack that you’d gratefully taken from him as you boarded off the plane.

The Paris airport was bustling to the brim and you could only look with wide eyes at everything surrounding you. It intrigued you, how everything looked so similar. All the elements of the Seoul airport were there, but it was so different at the same time. The feeling of Paris seeped through the small cracks as you saw everything laid in front of you.

How instead of Korean and English, it was French and English printed on the signs overhead. A voice in the back of your head said the language of love, and you couldn’t help but think how ironic it was, in your situation.

No mishaps had occurred as you got to the hotel you’d be staying at for the next week. You’d checked in, both you and Chanyeol having separate rooms, although they were next to each other. You’d quickly said no when they asked if you’d like to change to a single room. The blush that stained your cheeks had stayed up the elevator until you scrambled into your room and muttered a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ to Chanyeol.

You spent the rest of the evening washing up and organizing the events you’d already booked for tomorrow. You wondered if Baekhyun was still awake and were reaching for your phone to text him when your stomach growled. You groaned remembering that you’d slept through the in-flight meal and the last thing you’d digested was that measly drink from Starbucks. Maybe you should go and get dinner.

You looked at the menu booklet that you’d found on the sleek coffee table in the corner of the room, that showed the items for room service but blanched at the price of each plate. The hotel Baekhyun reserved was exquisite, to say the least. You counted the money that you’d exchanged earlier at the airport and deemed that you’ll exchange some more tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t hurt to skip dinner if you just slept now.

A knock at the door had made you freeze in your spot, sprawled on the floor. You got up, not expecting anyone and looked through the peephole, curiously. Chanyeol was standing there, his eyes cast downwards as he scrolled through his phone. You’d scrambled back. Why was he here? Was there something wrong? Did he lose something? You peaked again and noticed his casual stature. It doesn’t look like anything is wrong…maybe he just forgot something trivial and needed to borrow it for you. You popped your hood, thinking your hair was probably a mess, hoping that nothing was actually up before opening the door.

“Oh, you’re still awake.” His eyes raked your figure up and down, and your feet shuffled, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I was just going to grab some food—you didn’t have dinner yet, did you?”

You shook your head. “I’m not that hungry—”

The rumbling of your stomach interrupted you. A blush settled on your cheeks as a small smile painted his handsome face. You managed a nervous chuckle before saying you’ll be out in ten and softly shut the door behind you. After you were sure the lock had clicked, you’d stumbled to your bed and dived head first before thrashing a little, heart soaring through the clouds. Did Park Chanyeol just ask you to go out with him?

You settled for a small diner that lined the streets next to your hotel. The aroma when you entered the restaurant made you salivate at how good it smelled.

You were excited for the food until you saw the waitress practically waltz to your table. She was blonde, tall, with long legs, and big breasts. You couldn’t help but think she was pretty even as she gave a very inappropriate look to your soulmate. She leaned over the table, showing off even more cleavage and you rolled your eyes.

And then you saw Chanyeol. And where exactly he was looking. You scoffed as she sent you a smirk and a tiny part inside of you died remembering when he had said you weren’t his type. Maybe she was his type. You glanced at your chest and suddenly felt small in comparison.

His eyes fluttered to yours as you quickly looked back at your menu, embarrassed as you’d been caught staring at him. What’s wrong with you? You’re not his type and nothing can change that.

The waitress had walked back, a bounce in her step, knowing the effect she had on Chanyeol, after taking your orders and you’d been down in the dumps since.

Dinner was silent until you tried breaking the silence. It couldn’t possibly hurt to try and know more about your travel buddy if not soulmate, could it?

“What are you majoring in?” You chanced, eyes wide as you took another bite of your pasta, eyes focused on him.

He looked up at you and swallowed. “Music.”

You hummed. It made sense. Chanyeol seemed like...a free spirit. He doesn’t seem like the person who would want to major in something sturdy like law or medicine because his parents told him to. A content smile spread over his lips and you realized that he must love what he does.

“What about you?”

“Oh, um, business.” You gave him a small smile. “Boring, right? I’ve always wanted to learn guitar.” You said, sadly. “Seems fun.”

“Business isn’t..boring.” He mused, questionably you’d add, and then. “Why didn’t you?” He questions, lips down-turned.

“My parents thought it was a waste of money.” You played with the pasta on your plate, fork scratching the glass. You’d never gave it a second thought. If your parents used that excuse, that usually meant it would never happen. Money was a touchy subject in your family, as you didn’t grow up in a lavish environment. “Never got the chance.”

“I could teach you.” Your head shot up, confused at his words. “Maybe when we get back.”

“Why?” You said, cocking your head. Why would he want to teach you guitar on top of his classes and probably extracurriculars? He also had his own social life.

“What do you mean why?” He questioned back.

“I—um, never mind.” Gosh, why did you have to ask that? You don’t even know what you were saying anymore. “Thank you,” you quickly added.

It’s silence until you speak up about the thing that’s been bothering you. “Baekhyun said that he convinced you to come with me—is that right?”

“Yeah. He said it when all of the guys were out. I’ve always wanted to go abroad.”

“Did you know you’d be coming with me?” You asked, hesitantly, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah.”

You wondered if you should bring up the part about how he treated you, but a voice in the back of your head told you to just go for it. You’re on the topic already.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“I mean, you don’t even talk to me, and you can’t possibly be clueless as to the fact that we’re soulmates.” His eyes widen, as you realize this is the first time you made it known. Sure you knew it, thought about it, practically every day, and you’re sure he knows it too. But this is the first time the both of you are actually discussing it. You scoffed inside. You’d known him for almost three years and this is the first time it’s come up between the two of you.

“I don’t hate you,” he mutters.

“What?” This is, what you'd call frustrating. “Well, I know I’m not your type but that doesn’t mean you have to reject me being your soulmate. You didn’t even give me a chance—” you choke, halting your tirade.

He cocks his head. “I never told you, you weren’t my type—”

“I heard,” you interjected. “Freshman year, you told Baekhyun in our apartment and I heard. And I get that I’m not what you want, but you never even gave me a chance.” You look at him, pleadingly, before sighing. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I—I don’t hate you,” he splutters.

“You don’t have to lie.” You state, standing up from the table. Where all your confidence is coming from, only God knows. His hand shoots out to hold your arm and you pull it away, goosebumps rising, when you felt a small shock from that touch. 

You glare at him. “If you don’t hate me, then it’s okay to say you don’t like me being your—”

“I just never wanted a soulmate, okay?” He interjects, eyebrows furrowed at you. “It’s not you.” You falter. It wasn’t you he didn’t want. It was the fact he never wanted what you were to him. “I don’t hate you, okay.” He looked at you, eyes big and soft before confessing. “I kind of wanted to go on this trip with you.”

You slowly sat back down, mouth effectively shut up for the rest of dinner, thoughts consuming you as you finished off your plate. He never wanted a soulmate? So when he said he wanted to go with you, he meant to get you know you as a friend? Were you just friend-zoned by him? Something in your gut didn’t feel right and you remembered how you had a tiny crush on him. Totally not platonic feelings. Is this really what your future will be? You mentally slammed your head against the table. Maybe you should get up and leave his forever, because you just know that you’ll fall for him even more, if you started this. But there was still a small part in your heart that just said, take what you could get. Maybe it’ll work in your favor. You glanced at the man in question, chomping on a bread stick while scrolling through his phone seemingly unaffected. He still is your soulmate. Just the thought of leaving him seemingly made your heart break into pieces that could never be put back together.

“The food’s really good,” was all you could manage, trying a light tone. 

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

When the bill came around you rummaged through your purse for the right note but Chanyeol had already handed the correct amount.

“Wait, no, it’s fine I can pay half, what are you doing—”

“I pay this time and you pay the next?” He offered, already handing over the money. You frowned at him huffing an okay not really seeing a choice before waiting for him at the entrance.

As you strolled the Parisian streets next to Chanyeol, you realized that he said the next time also. Did that mean he wanted to eat with you, again? Your heart couldn’t help but flutter a smile growing on your lips at the possibilities that swam through your mind. And then you remembered. He didn’t want a soulmate. The smile was gone. 

Maybe you should’ve just skipped dinner.

In the past few months, you’ve visited every top tourist attraction website you could find on the whole internet including Paris and finally, after the very long wait, you got to experience it.

Today marks the first day of your trip in Paris. You’d be going to the Moulin Rouge before taking a cruise on the Seine. 

You were getting ready, having just gotten out of the shower and settling for a pair of jeans and a hoodie with your long coat over from the chilly weather forecast of today, when you felt it.

A searing pain on your forearm pulling a shriek from you. You ran towards the sink feeling tears prick at your eyes because that really fucking hurt. And based on previous knowledge that was a burn. You had gotten a burn when you were nowhere near anything hot. Which meant only one other thing.

It was Chanyeol. You'd been bonded. You laughed heartlessly as the cold water washed over your skin. He said he didn’t want a soulmate and the very next day you get bonded to him. How amazing.

You’ve figured out over the day that Chanyeol is very clumsy. You’ve got bruises on your knees, elbows, and finger when you think that he slammed his finger on a door. He was literally going to be the death of you and it hasn’t even been one fucking day, you think.

You decide to bring it up to him, even though you knew you’d probably forget. You have low pain tolerance. If anything else you’ll go into shock living with this bond for the rest of your life, you thought.

The Seine left you absolutely awestruck. You’d boarded a cruise for the evening, the tour guide explaining that it was the prettiest during sunset. And she wasn’t wrong.

The pinks and orange hues faded into the blue as you saw the sunset far off. The purple and black of the night took over the sky and you couldn’t help but sigh at the beauty it held. It was almost time to get off and you, Chanyeol and a young couple--you guessed in their early 30’s sat at a table. You’d ordered a soda and Chanyeol a tea.

A big mistake you liked to call it. The boat rocked just as Chanyeol’s lips were to taste the matcha and the piping hot burn seared on your chest right where he had spilled it. You’d spilled the coke you were holding over your shirt as well from the shock, on your white button-up shirt, before you huffed setting down the empty glass. He can’t possibly know that you’ve been bonded when you were taking the brunt of the hits.

“Are you always burning yourself or what?” You barked, turning to Chanyeol who was sporting a similar stain to your own. He had tissues in his hand when he looked down at your shirt, then back to your face as a blush coated his features.

“What?” He called.

“This morning, you burned yourself on something didn’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you know—?”

“Are you fucking stupid or—" you rolled up your sleeve and pinched the supple skin there, and he yelped. 

“No...” He breathed.

“Yes. So please, try and be more careful from now on.”

The couple which Chanyeol found had an adorable kid took their seats on the chairs across from you. He looked around only now noticing that the deck was packed, many lingering around the edges of the deck, not having a seat. Thank God, you’d grabbed a seat beforehand and told him to keep his stuff so someone wouldn’t take your seat. He couldn’t fathom standing for a whole two hours with sore legs, if only from strolling through Paris in the afternoon.

Chanyeol watched the couple bicker, lovingly, before one of their kids spilled scalding hot tea over the father. He chuckled. That just happened to him as well. But what came next shocked him.

The mother turned to the child who looked upon his parents, bottom lip trembling, tears spilling out. “I’m sorry, did it hurt a lot?” He cried.

Chanyeol thought he only spilled the tea on the father before he caught a glance of an angry red on the mother’s forearm. Right where the father was wiping it with a tissue.

“It’s okay, it was only an accident, don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt that much.” The mother soothed the child, shushing him. 

He realized. The couple was bonded. With a child. His mind was in a frenzy before your voice next to him pulled out from his thoughts.

“Are you two soulmates?” You asked, eyes sparkling and lips pulled into a smile.

The couple nodded as a small, dreamy sigh left your lips and only Chanyeol could see the tiniest motion as you deflated.

“That’s lovely.” You spoke before your eyes met Chanyeol’s.

Chanyeol looked straight at you, gaze unwavering as he thought of how maybe this whole time he’s seen it wrong. You were surprised, quickly looking away from his eyes, a sudden blush rising in your cheeks.

Maybe it really could be different for him.

You’d woken up the next morning absolutely ecstatic for the busy day to come. The prospect of seeing the Palace of Versailles—all the greenery, the history hidden behind each stone placed, the architecture—something you’ve only dreamed of seeing in person sent jitters all over again through your body. This is exactly what you wanted when you planned to travel.

You checked the time and remembered that you forgot to remind Chanyeol last night that the bus would arrive earlier. A voice in the back of your mind told you not to tell him but then you remembered. He was in Paris because he wanted to travel. You know how excited you were—you couldn’t possibly do that to him. You figured that you should go right now but quickly chickened out, deeming it too awkward for you to go to his door and knock. Sure, your relationship has gotten a little better (he did want to be friends with you)—and he doesn’t treat you like dirt anymore but nothing like the dreams you’ve dreamed of.

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact--having gotten his number for emergencies. Both of you had gotten international plans for the trip as roaming charges were never pleasant.

chanyeol?

are you up?

Even after ten minutes, he didn’t reply and he couldn’t possibly be ignoring you. He wouldn’t stoop that low. You hesitated before thinking, fuck it, and pressing the call button. 

It rang a few times before he picked up his groggy morning voice filling your ear. “Y/N? Is there something wrong?”

Your stomach leaped at how his words slurred and you thought of how adorable he would look. No, bad Y/N. Don’t think like that. “Um, no, are you awake yet? The tour bus we're taking leaves at 9:30—”

“That’s today?” He interjects. “Shit, I should probably get ready—thank you, God, if you weren’t here—“

He hung up the call then and you lowered the phone a small smile playing on your lips. He’s glad that you’re here with him. 

Later you hit your head against the wall of your bed because you are not supposed to be thinking those thoughts over what he says. He probably doesn’t mean how you think it means. You’re looking too into things, Y/N. You have got to stop.

You showed up at his door later, his promise of you paying for the next meal going through your thoughts. You don’t usually eat breakfast, but the thought of trying actual French croissants in France made your mouth water.

In the end, you made your way to the breakfast buffet at your hotel and took everything you thought look good in a to-go box for Chanyeol and you to share.

You'd rung the doorbell and after you heard a door shut inside and some more shuffling he opened the door. You yelped before turning around. He only had a towel on.

He smirked. “There’s still half an hour,” he remarked.

You lifted up the bag, now looking at the floor. “I brought breakfast.”

He tentatively took it from your fingers before sniffing it and moaning in pleasure. He walked inside to his room leaving the door open and you took that as permission to enter as well. “You are literally a godsend, Y/N, this smells amazing.”

Your blush darkens. “Should I wait, until you’re done dressing or—?”

“You can wait, I’ll be a minute,” he says and you hear what you think is the bathroom close before letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding. You flop on one of the chairs near the coffee table, identical to the one in your own room. That was way too much exposure for you at only nine in the morning. Did the universe hate you? Is that why your life is like this? You take your orange juice and chug it suddenly feeling a little too hot when you hear Chanyeol’s phone ring.

You look at the phone number with ‘Mother’ written and then to the bathroom. Is it nosy if you pick up? But what if it’s important? In the end, you pick up the phone, seeing as a few rings already passed. “Hello?”

“Hello, Chanyeol? Are you home, right now? Remember that book—”

“Um, Ma’am. This is Y/N, Chanyeol’s--um, friend.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Where’s Chanyeol?”

“He’s in the bathroom, right now.” Your eyebrows furrow, repeating what she said in your brain. Home? Did Chanyeol not tell her about being in Paris? You don’t say anything as you only hear static on the other side.

“Oh,” she finally replies, and you’re shocked at how uninterested she is. Does she really not know?

You hear the door open and Chanyeol sees you with his phone as you look at him. 

“Who is it?” He asks across the room, hanging up his towel on the clothes rack to the side.

“Your mother,” you mouth. His eyes widen and it only takes him two strides to reach and snatch the phone from your hand. His face turns cold and you feel as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I’ll call you later, Mother.” He says, before hanging up. 

You keep your lips closed as he sighs and looks at you. “Why did you pick up?”

“I—um,” you splutter.

“Whatever, just don’t do it again.” He snapped as you curled in yourself wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Apparently, you were being nosy.

He sprawls over the other chair, silently and unwraps the food. You watch him practically inhale the food, not making any move. He looks pissed.

“Sorry.” You both say simultaneously. You hold eye contact with him for an exact five seconds before he looks away.

“Did you not tell your mom that you were going to Paris?” You try. “Are…you not close with her?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then,

“My parents are soulmates.” Your eyes widen, microscopically. Well, this is big news. The fact that you even found your soulmate was huge. You don’t even know anyone close to you that has found their soulmate. And have a kid too.

“They treated me like a stranger and only cared about themselves and I—” he stopped, a slight tremble in his lips. “I thought that that was what the soulmate bond does to people. It makes them into parasites who don’t care for those around them.” He looks at you, eyes just the tiniest bit teary. “I never wanted a soulmate because of them. She couldn’t care less. Whether I’m in Korea or across the world.” 

You put yourself in his shoes. The people in his life who were supposed to love you, take care of you, comfort you, cry with you, were absent in his life—his parents were nonexistent in his life. You went over what he said in your head. He thought it was because of the soulmate bond? That’s why he doesn’t want a soulmate?

“Chanyeol? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s because of the soulmate bond.” You blurt. He stops chewing on a sausage, looking at you. “I think they’re just assholes.” Your eyes widened. Wait, you didn’t mean to call his parents assholes! “Shit, that’s not what I—”

His boisterous laughter cuts through the room, bouncing off the walls, making it feel much livelier than what two—practically strangers—could do. “That’s what Baekhyun always says,” he chokes out between laughs. Is he one of those people who laugh at the stupidest of things? Because if he is, then you wouldn’t mind looking up the lamest dad jokes to get him laugh—no! Y/N, you can’t do that!

You find your resolve fading, though, as you can’t help but chuckle along with his never ending laughter.

The Louvre felt like a dream that you’d unnervingly stepped into. A tour guide was assigned to you, Chanyeol and a few other cute elderly couples wearing matching tourist shirts. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were soulmates too who’d grown old together—just like all the children stories said, the revelation from yesterday affecting your thoughts.

Your phone’s battery was quickly depleting if only from how many pictures you’d taken. You haven’t even reached half of the tour before your stomach is grumbling and to your embarrassment, Chanyeol, who has been walking next to you, hears it.

He calls to the tour guide and asks when they can stop for a lunch break and you all decide after you see the most famous exhibit: the Mona Lisa.

It didn’t take you long to stray from the group. Seeing as you’d go back after taking a closer picture, you’d used your height (which you’re usually very self-conscious about) to your advantage, passing through the hordes of people.

You’d gotten out of the crowd, finished with your admiration of the painting while you looked at the pictures you managed. They were pretty good if you said so yourself. Pocketing your phone, you looked up and tried spotting your group. You walked around a little, going back to where you’d parted before the realization hits you when you didn’t see them.

You quickly call Chanyeol, not knowing who else to call on this situation. He doesn’t pick up and you see that your battery is currently at 6%. This could not be happening to you right now.

You walked to a less populated part of the room suddenly feeling panicky at the hordes of people. There was probably a hundred people in this room right now and yet you knew none of them. You tried calling him again, afraid that your battery would die.

“Please, please, please, pick up,” you muttered like a mantra. Maybe God had sent you a gift when he picked up the phone.

“Chanyeol! Where are you right now, I can’t—“ your phone buzzed and you groaned seeing the screen go black. Your stupid phone with its stupid battery. Why did you take so many pictures again?

You tried looking on the bright side. He couldn’t be far, at the very most in another room. If anything he probably noticed that you aren’t by his side anymore (the both of you stuck together like glue today seeing as none of the other people in your group seemingly fit into people you could talk with). Hopefully, he’d find you soon enough. You’re a grown adult. You can’t be scared in broad daylight over nothing.

It’s been an hour and you still haven’t seen any sight of Chanyeol, and yes you were a grown adult who is totally capable of traveling alone, but you were scared. You could always go back to your hotel, but you left your money with Chanyeol as he’d brought a bigger bag and you didn’t have enough for a taxi fare back. So technically you couldn’t. Not being able to resist your hunger you’d managed to figure out where a nearby cafe was and used the rest of the money. You barely had enough for it too. You sat at one of the tables, munching on a sandwich and playing with your still dead phone. If only you had a charger.

And that’s when it hit you. This is the 21st century. Everyone had phones. With this many people, there’s probably one person with a charger—you sprung up and went to the counter hoping beyond belief your statement was correct.

“Hello? What can I get for you?” The women asked, shooting you a smile.

“Actually,” you started, “you don’t happen to have a phone charger on you, do you? My phone died and I lost my friend, and I need to call them but I don’t know his number.” You explained, a meek smile on your face.

She eyes your phone before her eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! You’re lucky that you have the same phone as me.” She gestured for you to come to the back through the opening on the side. You almost cried at the realization that you weren’t doomed.

“Thank you—" you paused, glancing at her name tag, “—Mia. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem, really, but, I have to get back to the counter, so...”

“Oh yeah, totally go ahead. I’m not going to steal any mugs if that’s what you’re saying.” You shooed her off, sending a smile before leaning against the counter, a sigh leaving your lips.

You wanted to go back to your sandwich, but an inkling in the back of your head told you not to lose your phone as well. So you stayed, keeping an eye out just in case. When your phone lit up again, it was at 20% and you’d harrumphed in excitement, unplugging the cord and making your way back to your table. You’d quickly finished the last of your sandwich before clicking the call button when someone grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N, what the fuck—” they said and you pulled away in shock.

You looked startled glancing at the young man breathing harshly beside you, hands resting on his knees as he takes a deep breath—you guessed--from running. It wasn’t until he raised his head that you realized you weren’t lost anymore.

“Chanyeol!” You exclaimed, and before you knew it you were tackling him in a hug. Maybe it was the fact that you’d gotten lost in a foreign country with a foreign language and you’d had no idea what to do. But seeing his face, a familiar face made tears prick at your eyes. He’d froze under your touch and you realized you were hugging him before you quickly let go. “Shit, sorry,” you rambled and pulled back, trying your best to blink away the tears. Why are you crying? What the hell? Is there something wrong with you? 

He looked down at your weathered state and pulled you back into his arms in the middle of the debate in your head. You couldn’t help the tears that started rolling down your face, feeling the warmth emanate from him. You’re sure you soaked his hoodie as you wrap your arms around him, ear pressed against his heart as you heard the calm thump thump thump of his heartbeat that made you feel safer than ever before.

He refused to let you out of your sight for the rest of the day leaving you confused. Frazzled. Extremely concerned because where did the old Chanyeol go? Well, he had confessed that he kind of wanted to go on this trip with you. Technically that meant he wouldn't treat you horribly. This is what friends do for each other right? They look out for you. Well, you weren’t really complaining (even with how much he made you question yourself when he steered you closer to him when you'd strayed, his warm hands placed on your shoulders) as you were about to go take an angled picture of the Flying Carpet structure in the middle of the courtyard but was stopped by Chanyeol grabbing your hand.

You look back glancing at his hand in yours then back to his face, blushing. “I’m just going to go and take a picture—”

“Tell me,” he interrupted, “when you go somewhere else, okay?” His tone was soft, and all you could do was nod before he let go of your hand. You couldn’t even take a picture, his camera that you borrowed slipping out of your hands every time you thought of his warm hand clasped over yours.

Chanyeol watched as you stood underneath the Eiffel Tower, looking above you at the massive structure, a smile displayed lighting up your features. 

“Will you take a picture for me?” You grinned. He nodded, taking the phone from your outstretched hand. And while you turned around he quickly took a few pictures on your phone, before he realized that he hadn’t taken any pictures himself. His camera was over on the bench so he patted his pocket to get his phone, as he always kept it there but froze not feeling the familiar weight.

His eyes widened before he strides towards his bag and hurriedly checked all the pockets. You’d walked over to him now, silently taking your phone from where he placed it on the bench next to him. 

He groaned, after taking everything out of his bag and still not finding his phone. He couldn’t possibly have…lost it, could he? This is something big even for how forgetful Chanyeol is. He really went and lost his phone abroad. He looked at you and took in your concerned eyes, and then,

“I think I lost my phone.”

Maybe it was after ten minutes, twenty minutes—Chanyeol wasn’t sure because he didn’t have his fucking phone, but you already left his side after he broke the news—when you came back, silently taking a seat next to him.

“So I asked the tour guide,” you announced garnering Chanyeol’s attention as he looked at your calm stature. “And he said he’ll take us to the nearest police station.” You turned to him. “Can you try to retrace your steps, to see where you could’ve dropped it?”

He looked at you. He really looked at you as you blinked back at him, patiently waiting for him to answer. Over the days, over the days he spent with you, he’s realized something. You’ve been nothing short of amazing to him.

You were thoughtful, patient, you never got mad at him (except for whenever he gets an especially painful bruise--you have low pain tolerance, he’s noticed), and you laughed at the stupid jokes he tells you. He realized that he wanted nothing more than to keep that laugh on your face for the rest of your life. He wanted to make you laugh for the rest of your life. His heart stopped when he realized this isn’t what he wanted. When he had told you that he didn’t want a soulmate, he saw that loving glint in your eyes leave. He saw when you find yourself staring at him before looking away when he noticed. He saw how you restricted yourself, hesitating just the tiniest bit before doing something that friends don’t do. And over the days he realized. He was such a stupid idiot. And a hypocrite. And an asshole. He realized that he wanted you to be his soulmate. Even after just a few days ago he stated the exact opposite. Chanyeol groaned inwardly. He really fucked up, didn’t he?

You were for sure going to blow up in his face when he told you. You were shy sure, but he saw that you speak your mind when things get out of hand. Oh God, what if you say you didn’t want him as a soulmate anymore? Then what would he do? 

“I think in the last taxi we were in.” He muttered as he saw you in another light, almost as if a halo was shining a top of you.

“Oh! Then if you didn’t put it on silent, maybe the driver will pick up!” You exclaimed, hurriedly pulling your phone out. “I’m so dumb, I should’ve done this earlier.” You tapped for a few seconds on your phone before pressing it to your ear.

You frowned when no one picked up.

After the third time, your face lit up, as you spoke an excited ‘hello!’ and that’s when Chanyeol realized, inwardly smiling to himself.

He liked you. Maybe even loved you.

But he was stupid. So maybe he couldn’t.

“I told you we’d find it!” You squealed, skipping to Chanyeol before handing him his phone with the familiar phone case. He took it from your hand, welcoming the sparks that followed when your hand brushed his.

“I have no idea what I’d do without you.” He remarked.

“I know right,” you joked, a knowing smile present on your face. Chanyeol noticed; you smile a lot.

Maybe he’d begun noticing all the tiny things in the few hours passed that he realized his feelings for you. His true feelings. His true feelings that he couldn’t fucking confess because he messed up, big. (Even his conscience reminded him and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for his conscience to fuck off.)

“Y/N,” he started, not knowing if he should say it now, but your attention fluttered back to the tour guide who was waving the both of you over. Chanyeol deflated as you turned your back on him before he made himself a silent promise. He wasn’t sure if you hated him yet, but he wanted you to know how he felt. He wanted to know if you still wanted him as a soulmate, even after everything he’s done to you. No time like the present, right?

The breeze fluttered through Paris, sending shivers up your spine as you leaned against the cold metal railing, gazing over the streets lit up underneath you. The people looked as small as ants from the top of the Eiffel tower.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You enquired, not looking at Chanyeol who sported a similar stance to your own. 

You didn’t notice how Chanyeol turned to you, taking how the Parisian lights reflected in your eyes. “It is,” he replied (not totally taking a line out of a fairy tale and referencing to you, not the city below him).

You looked at him now, feeling his eyes boring into your side profile.

“Y/N, do you hate me?”

Your eyes widened at his statement. You know you’ve said that you thought he hates you, but you? Hating him? If anyone hated him you’d wonder if they were in their right minds. How can one actually hate him? First of all, his looks, you’re surprised that no agency has scouted him to be a model or actor. His voice, that stupid deep timbre that sent butterflies through your body whenever he started humming along to the radio, silently singing all the words. His personality was practically close to angelic. If you thought about it, to everyone else he was nice, so nice sometimes he stood up against Kim Jongdae—you realized it that one time you were crossing the street and he went to help out an elderly woman who was struggling with her groceries. He was just a lovable, extremely nice, idiotic giant, with big eyes and adorable pointy ears. How could you not like him?

“Th—that’s absurd,” you splutter, heat rushing to your cheeks, at how he’s staring at you, and you’re afraid that he could’ve heard your earlier thoughts, even though that’s impossible.

“So you don’t?” He continued. You nodded before he smiled a small smile to himself. “Good,” he confessed. And then, “that means you like me, right?”

The question was so out of the blue, and at the same time not, that you ended up choking on your own spit. He helped you recover, his warm hand sending goosebumps through your jacket as he rubbed your back. You narrowed your eyes at him seeing how he was so close to laughing at your hacking.

“How can you just say that so carelessly?” You declared, huffing, not looking at him, as he so was doing to you.

“You do, don’t you?” He grinned, taking your silence and avoidance of his question as an answer. “Because I think I like you.”

When you turn and meet his eyes, a series of events that you saw as the future flashed through your eyes. Chanyeol getting down on one knee, a box in his hand. The two of you sharing a kiss sealing your love for each other. A child with pointy ears and wide, doe eyes that you knew so well running around a house with chocolate smeared over his face.

And you realize that that is the future you have with him.

“I—” you falter. Mouth opening and closing. “You saw that too, didn’t you.”

His smile is beaming as he answers. “I did.” And he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance that was previously between the two of you.

And then he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, before pressing his lips to yours in the most gentle way you thought possible. Your lips move against his in a fluidity that you've never noticed before. You fit perfectly against him—as if you were made for each other. His lips are velvet as they move against your own, his hands hot as they pull you closer, placed on your hips.

A smile breaks through your lips as you kiss him, arms coming around his shoulders, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his nape and only when the two of you part, you see the brightest of smiles displayed on his face like a piece of art that you wouldn’t mind staring at for the rest of your life.

He leans down to swoop you off your feet again when you pull back, confusion laced over your features. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t want a soulmate, right? If you like me—your soulmate—how is that supposed to work—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss that has your head spinning. He chuckles. “I don’t not want a soulmate anymore, stupid.” Another kiss. “As long as its you.” And another. You kiss for a few more minutes, thankful that no one else was on the top of the Eiffel tower that you had forced Chanyeol to climb up with you. They weren’t going to risk the hellish flight of stairs to get to the amazing view.

After a while, he pulls away again. You’re glad as you take a breath. This man takes your breath away, literally. “You didn’t answer my question,” he breathes against your lips.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “What question?”

“Do you like me?” He questions, forehead resting against yours.

“I like you, Chanyeol,” you whisper.

He cradles your face and you see the spark of emotion glazing his eyes before he crashes his lips on yours once more.

It’s love.

As you enter the familiar Seoul Airport hand in hand with Chanyeol, you spot Baekhyun, your best friend, waiting for you, sporting a shit-eating grin.

He welcomes you with a hug before leaning down to whisper something only you could hear, “Where’s my thank you?”

[justphilia]

Aubade is a great fic; too bad it’s possibly dead.

Been a while since I did a long long babble on a fic I like, and lately, I’ve been rereading a few fics to fuel my entertainment. I low key notice how rare it is to find a multi-chaptered fic for Ritshou that doesn’t have Terumob as main, which is really funky honestly.

I talked about Aubade once, in my list of incomplete fanfics I missed back in like February. But it’s so good, I’m gonna make a long post about it lmao.

Even though this fic has literally taken the number one ranking in my favorites list, it only took today for me to bookmark it in my ao3 (mostly because I’ve been waiting it for it to be completed before doing so.)

And generally, anything that I bookmark on ao3 is something I’ve cried about at least once, whether it’s because of the story or because I love the story too much. So anyways,

Aubade by Ravenesta is a M rated Ritshou fic centered around Ritsu, who moves in with Shou after Shou declared he was going to stay in Japan for good.

They buy an apartment together near Ritsu’s university and go on a shopping spree in IKEA for furniture and such, which is as chaotic as it doesn’t sound. The tension between them is real and it’s there, so much so you just want them to get together already sometimes.

I’ve read this fic for a total of 4 times, and I will keep rereading it until the day I die. If you asked me what would come to mind if I thought about Ritshou, it would be the fic’s summary;

My dove, my doe, I love you so I cannot, will not, let you go

Ritsu and Shou have been orbiting around each other ever since they were thirteen years old. Really, something like this was inevitable.

It’s so simple and sweet, and somehow, without fail, every time this summary (specifically the poem) comes to mind, I would get teary eyed. Even now I’m getting :’( over the poem, just because it literally speaks Ritshou to me.

The fic starts off with Ritsu heading back home by train to Seasoning City during his summer break from college in Grain City. It’s written in a way where it’s very easy for you to visualize the scenario of Ritsu waiting for the train to come while holding a cup of cheap coffee.

It’s realistically detailed too, going as far as to include little quirks about Ritsu and the people around him (stranger or not).

Both Shou and Shigeo gets introduced during a phone texting scene, where you can easily tell their personality was conveyed right through the way they message Ritsu. Shigeo adds little face emoticons with caring and sweet messages, and Shou shortens his words to ‘u’ and ‘ur’ with chaotic spacings between words and many exclamation marks.

Even Ritsu has his own way of messaging, always adding punctuation to his sentences.

Later on, after Ritsu arrives in Seasoning City, he’s picked up by Shigeo and Teru, who are already a couple in this fic, and you can tell how much Ritsu misses his home.

Teru is such a beautiful mess in this fic, everything about him is dramatic and overtop, going from his haircut to his little diet habits, and he’s still playful with Ritsu. The ‘Little Brother’ nickname will never go away.

(Also, at some point, Ritsu makes a face immaturely after seeing Shigeo drop a kiss on Teru’s head and I think that was pretty funny)

(Also also, they all call Reigen ‘Dad’. Which is hecking adorable, but it did confuse me at some point because Ritsu named Reigen’s contact as Dad and I legitimately thought that was Ritsu’s actual dad until later.)

Fast forward after Ritsu gets a haircut from Teru in Spirits and Such. Pretty funny considering how Reigen did the same thing to Serizawa in Season 2, but I’m mildly sure Serizawa doesn’t exist in this fic so it was probably a coincidence.

So they’re going shopping and Ritsu gets another text from Shou, because Shou isn’t in town, or at least, that was what we were led to believe, until he does pop up. 

And it wouldn’t be Shou if his appearance isn’t random, so of course his first line is to comment on Kiwis looking like balls.

Ritsu, being Ritsu, responds by calling Shou an asshole and proceeds to be conflicted between wanting to punch Teru, because he knew all along, or wanting to hug Shou, because Ritsu misses him so much. He goes for the latter.

Cue Shou and Ritsu hanging out because Shigeo and Teru had to go save Reigen from a spirit job, and their interaction is just so Ritshou it makes you feel fuzzy inside y’know? Because it’s just...friends being friends.

Ok so fast forward again, and they’re sitting around in Ritsu’s room and here’s where the plot begins:

Shou, sleepily, declares he wants them to live together, before suddenly falling asleep.

And Ritsu panics because he can’t tell if he’s serious or just sleep drunk. So he consults Teru to confirm this, who answers that, yes, Shou was being serious, and this just makes Ritsu panic even more because wow he did not expect that and mostly because he can’t afford an apartment.

Shou, being the rich boy he is, offers to settle the payment, because of course he would.

Ritsu weighs his options in his head and convinces himself that he’ll do it. So that’s what they do. They make a little list, which is funny and adorable, and start scouting for apartments online.

Fast forward yet again and Ritsu’s plan was to first gather his shit from his dorm room, crash there for a bit, before fully moving into the new apartment.

Reigen, Teru, and Shigeo are seeing the two off at the train station, and Reigen being Reigen, he’s all double checking that Ritsu has all his shit and it’s just such a dad moment.

Most of their luggage is Shou’s because Ritsu packs light and most of his things are at the dorm, and I brought this up because of this scene:

“It’s my oldest friend!” Shou had argued, trying to wrestle it from Ritsu’s hands. “Six years I have known you, Suzuki, and never once has there been a working bulb in this lamp.”

We get a few more cute scenes of Shou running around and being playful before being tired out and falling asleep on the train, and there’s this tender moment where Shou’s snuggling on Ritsu’s jacket, which the latter had taken off early, and he makes a comment saying how it smells like Ritsu which just baffles the only. It’s...nice, makes me fluffy.

Anyways they reach Ritsu’s dorm to crash and pack, and they have this scene where Shou gets a little emotional about how organized Ritsu is, and he genuinely couldn’t believe how Ritsu is making this work. 

So! Chapter 6, alright! And it’s the apartment viewing chapter, because of course they need to view apartments before moving in (which is as fun as it sounds).

They view 3 apartments, with the third try being the charm;

Apartment 1 fucking sucks! And Ritsu only chose this because he wanted to get a feel of how apartment viewing works, and you gotta hand it to him for thinking ahead. So no matter what, he knows he won’t be buying this apartment.

Apartment 2 was actually pretty decent, the landlord, however, was not. Throughout this scene, she is constantly trying to get into Ritsu’s space, and you don’t exactly know what’s up until the very end where she gets really close. Shou saves Ritsu in the end by dragging him away and making it known that, “THIS IS MY MAN DO NOT TOUCH.” And makes an enemy out of her, so big whoops.

Apartment 3 is kinda awkward but workable, with their landlord being the sweetest man to walk this earth. His kids were born on the viewing day, which made him a little late, though Ritsu finds in understandable. After the viewing, Ritsu asks if they can crash at the apartment even though they haven’t actually gotten it yet, and the man’s like, “Don’t worry, you’re gonna live here anyways so might as well crash here now!” Protect this man.

Next scene we have Ritsu finally moving out of his dorm and into the apartment with Shou and after getting a few groceries, they finally decide they should head to IKEA for furniture. It’s a pretty funny scene because everyone knows IKEA is an equivalent to a bloody maze, so you get to watch them play around in the display rooms and climbing into beds and getting lost.

And it’s funnier because this is the Shou’s first time stepping foot into an IKEA, and Ritsu makes fun of him for it briefly. Shou gets back at him later on when they’re playing around in a bathroom display room.

he doesn’t quite notice where Shou’s wandered off to until he turns around from a bathroom sink and spots him in a shower stall, calling him over with a wave of his hand. Ritsu steps inside, ducking his head under the bar for the shower curtain

He almost startles when Shou reaches over and pulls the shower curtain closed with a flourish, leaving them enclosed in the shower stall, somehow still mysteriously lit by no lamp that Ritsu can see. He shoots Shou a questioning look, only to snort when Shou leans back against the shower wall, a hand over his heart and eyelashes fluttering.

“Why, Mister Kageyama,” he says, all false coquettishness, “Cornering a young girl like me alone in a place like this? How scandalous.”

He considers giving Shou the reaction he wants, a laugh and a shove on the shoulder and possibly a comment about exactly how classy making out in an IKEA shower stall is, but the reaction he’d gotten earlier was too good to resist playing along with the joke.

He shamelessly uses his height advantage when he steps into Shou’s space, one leg between Shou’s and a hand propped casually on the wall beside his head. He leans down so that their noses are almost touching, and says low, “Well with you standing here all gorgeous like this, how could I resist?”

It’s pathetic joke flirting, some cheesy disaster line out of every old black and white movie he’s ever watched with his mother, so he doesn’t quite expect it when Shou seems to freeze, eyes wide and locked onto Ritsu’s. It’s only for a few seconds, a barely noticeable pause before Shou’s howling with laughter as he pushes past him out of the shower, but Ritsu gets caught on it, on the hitch he thought he’d heard in Shou’s breath, on the way he feels oddly wired, like his skin is buzzing from the proximity, and what the fuck had just happened?

This scene, ladies and gentlemen, had me sold on the fic. Starting with how Shou had playfully dragged Ritsu into the display shower in an attempt to tease Ritsu, only to be surprised that Ritsu had played along because, according to Ritsu, the raven would usually just laugh and dismiss the joke as a joke. 

You can literally see that’s where the subtle feelings come out, where their friendship suddenly moves a bit faster into something more. It’s a slowburn for a reason, because their relationship happens really slow, so it’s moments like these that makes you really warm inside.

We come to a near end to the fic from here, which includes a scene where Shou cooks and Ritsu has a wet dream that’s pretty brief tbh and nothing too explicit don’t worry. Then there’s some scenes where Ritsu’s doing school things and Shou’s being Shou in the kitchen and everywhere.

It slows to a stop after the iconic Shou and Ritsu flies scene, because we’re all suckers for Ritsu trusting Shou that he won’t drop him when they fly.

SO! You can pretty much get the idea of how the fic will end/go from there since the major arc scene has been settled (moving in together). And frankly, if Ravenesta was to stop the fic on chapter 9, I don’t think we’ll lose too much since the only thing we didn’t get is a conclusion to the slowburn.

If you’ve read up to here, thanks for indulging me I suppose. I mostly write little reviews for my own sake since I really talk too much and it’s very hard to collect my thoughts at times.

Is this a fic I would recommend? Most definitely yes, it’s lovely, it’s well written, it’s captivating. It is the embodiment of Ritshou’s romance, and I really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

[tabithalovesstuff]

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

I hardly ever get asks so I'm going to do this all at once, I'll also repub the original after this too, tag you're it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? Solitary

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? Witch, I kind of consider myself pagan too but not as much since I don't consider my practice a religion

3. What is your zodiac sign? Libra sun sign, Sagittarius moon, Virgo Rising

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? Nope, I don't really believe in any of the Gods lol

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? Nope

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination? Tarot, and I want to get into pendulum too but I've been too broke to buy one

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) I don't practice with herbs 🤭 mostly cause they are hard for me to get lol

8. How would you define your craft? I generalize it by saying I'm a Eclectic Secular Witch that specializes in energy work and tarot

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? I don't really do curses, how ever that is because I haven't had the need to do one, I think its fine to do them as long as you know what you are doing

10. How long have you been practicing? Technically I started in Middle school, but I've only truly started to get into it and truly practice for the last 2 years (but if you count when I started then 8 years)

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? I do not, i have pets they just aren't attracted to magic enough to be a familiar lol

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? Yes to both

13. Do you have a magical name? No I don't, I feel like my real name is enough

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Technically, I don't try to hide it but I don't talk about it a lot so not a lot of people know I'm a witch.

15. What was the last spell you performed? I know some witches don't count these but I did an emoji spell for the coronavirus

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? More or less, I feel like I'm decently knowledgeable but not enough to be a teacher or leader

17. Do you write your own spells? Yes I do

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? I do have one, its a very personal one that includes more than just magic almost like a journal. I write down information I want to be able to look back at as well as any spells and rituals I write myself and tarot readings for myself, and sometimes dreams.

19. Do you worship nature? I do

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Opal

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? No I don't, I wouldn't be against it though

22. Do you have an altar? Yes, kind of. Its really messy rn and doesn't really look like an altar

23. What is your preferred element? Either Earth or Air, I'm always stuck between those two

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? Not at all lol I've never made any sort of potion

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? Nope, though I do have an interest in cryptozoology but I don't know if that counts

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? Tbh I wanted to turn myself into a mermaid or a wolf (which is why I started in middle school lmao)

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? No I haven't, just cause I focus so much on energy work, sometime I find other people's energy distracting

28. Have you ever used ouija? Yep, nothing really happened though

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? Not really, maybe to a certain extent.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? I feel like a Deer is my spirit guide

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? I need to lower my expectations and I need to focus on feeling the magic over going through the motions

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I try to! Doesn't always work out for me lol, I really like both Litha and Samhain

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Yes I plan too

34. Do you meditate? Yes, but not as often as I should

35. What is your favorite season? Winter, I feel like all seasons have their perks though and living somewhere with one season would suck ass

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? Energy magic, as a witch that doesn't have good access to supplies (and space) it is the easiest for me (I have a post all about energy magic on my profile too)

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? Energy magic makes it really easy, like brushing my teeth or hair, taking a shower, even making food can all have a magical element to it

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? Honestly? Casper Meets Wendy lol, or the Halloweentown movies, or the Twitches movie

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? I haven't really read very many witchy books ngl

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. Again, this was back in middle school, I did a spell on the full moon to turn into a werewolf. Obviously not successful

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? I did a cleansing spell on my dorm room my freshman year of college once a week cause I had a toxic ass roommate and she requested a room change before the end of the semester because of a "bad smell" that no one else could smell but her.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I don't use candles, because I'm not allowed to have them in my school dorms, I want to get into candles more though

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? My tarot cards lol

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? Nope, I want to though

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? Not really, I dabble in it here and there though. I would love to work with the fae more though

46. Do you practice color magic? Yes, all the time

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? Nope

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Online, I mostly use stuff I find around my house or on the ground outside though

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? Not fully, I think every person is born with a long list of possible fates and the paths you choose in life determines where you end up

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? I try to do free tarot reading on here or meditate more, sometimes looking through my book of shadows helps too

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? Yeah I've had a few

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? When people try to say there is a certain way you have to practice and some forms of witchcraft "aren't real witchcraft" just cause they don't practice in that way

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? I do, I don't really have a favorite, I like trying a bunch of different kinds at once

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? I kind of write my dreams down in my book of shadows, I don't keep up with it very well though

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? I can't say if I've ever really had one. I did a job spell and even though I got an interview I didn't get the job, and then was unemployed for a few months until after college semester, then I got hired at my old job. In the spell I said I wanted to be hired somewhere that was as good as my old job so my spell brought me right back to it

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? The cleansing ritual story I mentioned above. Once that roommate was out of my life I was so much happier lol.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? Speaking incantations, sometimes I feel like I'm talking to myself lol

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Yes I do, especially because I am an atheist

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? Not scared, but definitely unsure and insecure. Spell work is tricky, especially writing my own spells, I feel like I'm not doing them well enough

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Yeah sometimes, I get so bad about actually practicing and I want to get to the point where I practice every day and I always celebrate the Sabbaths and have a wide variety of crystals and learn astrology and so much more

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? I still need to do the money spell I wrote awhile ago, but it has to do with enchanting work uniform and I'm kinda unemployed rn

62. What is your rune of choice? I don't have any experience with runes, sorry lol

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The Star

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? No I dont

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? Nope

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? I would if I had any, but I don't lol

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? Not really, but that's because not a lot of people know about it, I definitely feel like the people that do know don't take it seriously

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? Nope

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? I don't think it is. I suggest it definitely but it isn't required. Its a lot if history to break down and you don't need to know the history to practice

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? I like the feeling of all the things in the world around me, which I feel like you only get from the training you go through when learning witchcraft. I also enjoy the ability to cleanse my environment and myself

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? No one really takes you or your craft seriously, and because of some people taking parts of the craft, I feel like being a witch is almost seen as some joke

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? No I don't, unless you count instrumentals that raise your vibration

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I honestly am not sure if I do or not, I don't think I've heard any of the holidays I celebrate called that? I celebrate the pagan wheel of the year holidays so if those are apart of that then yes 😂

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I do sometimes

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? Very much so, even though I still struggle with depression and anxiety, witchcraft has made it so much better than it use to be and I feel like I'm happier since I started practicing, my view of life has become more wholesome

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? Nature mostly

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) honestly yeah I do, for sure

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? Don't have one

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I would, but I haven't in anything so far but that's just cause I haven't felt like a spell needed blood magic

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? No I couldn't be, I don't want to hide parts of myself from someone that should know me better than anyone else

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? I want to explore astrology more and include that more. I also want to do more spell work and ritual work

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? Again I don't use candles, I do have a air scenter from Bath and Body works and I had a Pumpkin Spice Cupcake scent that was soooo good

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? I don't, but that's because I don't really do rituals, I want to get more into them though

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? I don't know any real life witches tbh

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I don't work with them so...

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? I keep them all on the shelf below my altar, my organization skills lack a lot though

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? Not that I know of, my family does come from Ireland though (within the last 3 generations too) so it could be possible

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? I created my path through growing up and becoming more aware of my surroundings, and as I matured I understand more and more what witchcraft is really about. And I did it all on my own which is what I think is unique about it

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I feel like I am clairvoyant to a certain degree, and I've always had above average visualization skills

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? I feel like you can initiate yourself

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? Nothing because I was a child with no money lol

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? I live in Colorado when I'm not away at school and the entirety of the mountains are pretty magical

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? I am definitely not the person for this question lol

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? I like to sometimes put on gentle music or nature sounds, quiet every thought that comes into my head

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It came really easily for me, I think its cause I use to read SOOOO much as a kid

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? Night, idk why I just feel more at peace at Night

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? This depends on what the spell is, but generally sometime in the evening in my room is the best 😂

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? I definitely stumble, I still struggle with casting circles

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? I think it does, at least I feel like it comes more naturally with time and practice

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? None of the above

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? Yeah I do, all the time

102. What is your favorite color and why? Green, I've just always loved green since I was a kid idk why

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? "What do witches even do?" I usually just say its complicated, because it is complicated lol

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? I want to say my hearing but I feel like my taste is pretty good too

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? Always cast a circle and ground yourself before a spell. I am really bad at it lol

[babybluebanshee]

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

------------

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

[starrystarrybabe]

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER SEVEN (Ben Hardy x OC)

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hello everyone! I apologize for the long ass wait time. Emotionally and mentally, I’m not doing the best rn, and it’s really kicking my ass. I tried my hardest on this chapter, and I hope y’all like it!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: mentions of alcoholism? Honestly nothing is really that spicy in this installment of the story

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

“Can you believe this shit? I’m not invited to the Golden Globes because I wasn’t ‘close enough to the project!’” Lily Anne scoffs, pacing in the studio as she rants to Zichi. “That’s complete and utter horseshit and we all know it. I was there almost every day we weren’t on tour! Fuck the Golden Globes!”

Ezichi sips her tea, frowning in confusion. “You’re Freddie’s daughter. You helped in every step of the project. You’re dedicated to keeping his memory alive. Why wouldn’t you be invited to an event celebrating a movie that created a whole new generation of Queen fans to help in those efforts?”

Lily Anne nods furiously, flailing her arms in distress. “Exactly! I don’t get it.”

Zichi nods. “It makes no sense. I’m going as Gwil’s plus one, but if you really want to be there, I would give up my spot for you.”

Lily Anne shakes her head. “No, please don’t do that. You and Gwil deserve to have a nice night out and some rocking sex in a hotel bed. I won’t take that away from you.”

Ezichi blushes at Lily’s comment. “Really, Lily. My sex life is fine without hotel rooms. I don’t need to go.”

She raises a brow. “Just fine? That’s upsetting, I thought Gwil would do better than fine.”

Ezichi rolls her eyes before putting down her cup. “Lily, tell Ben and Joe that you’re not invited to the Globes.”

Lily frowns. “Why?”

Ezichi grins. “If Gwil got a plus one, I’m sure that the same invitation went out to Ben and Joe. Either of them could bring you.”

She perks up and kisses Zichi’s forehead, cupping her cheeks. “Ezichi Adebayo, you absolute genius of a woman. I love you to the moon and back.”

She takes out her phone as Ezichi grins.

Lily Anne: IM SENDING OUT AN SOS TO EVERYONE

Lily Anne: I HAVE NOT BEEN INVITED TO THE GOLDEN GLOBES

Lily Anne: I NEED TO BE SOMEONE’S PLUS ONE

Dinosaur Boy: why didn’t they invite you???

Lily Anne: i wasn’t “close enough to the project”

Benjamin Jones: that’s absolute bullshit!

Benjamin Jones: fuckin wankers

Lily Anne: i know, right? anyways, if one of you lovely men could take me as a plus one, i’d fucking love that.

---

“Hello?” Joe picks up his phone, leaning back on his couch.

“Hey. It’s Ben. I need a favor,” his friend frantically asks.

“Sure thing, Benny. What do you need?” Joe asks, perking up.

“Ask Lily to be your plus one,” he says.

“But-- but she loves you, not me! She’d like it more if you brought her,” Joe says, frowning.

Ben lets out a whine of distress. “Please, Joe. I’ll get too nervous, and fuck something up, and I can’t afford to lose this-- I can’t afford to lose her.”

Joe nods slowly, biting his lip. “Okay. I get what you’re saying--”

“--then do this one favor for me, please!” Ben interrupts, stressed out.

“I will! Just promise me one thing,” Joe says.

“What is it? I’ll do literally anything to repay you for this,” Ben asks.

“You ask her to the Oscars,” Joe responds.

Ben fumbles with his words for a minute before sighing heavily. “Sure. I’ll do that.”

Joe grins. “Good. I’ll ask her later today, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much, buddy,” Ben says, sounding much more relaxed.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” Joe says. “Remember, you’re asking her to the Oscars!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” Ben insists.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon, Ben.”

“Thanks, mate. Bye.”

When Ben hangs up, he sees Frankie looking at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression.

“You wouldn’t understand, Frankie.”

The dog huffs and walks out of the room.

---

Lily Anne is reclining in her oversized bathtub, enjoying a bath bomb and a face mask. Reykja sits on the bath mat, chewing on her bone, and Lily Anne has her eyes closed and is listening to royalty-free spa music she downloaded online onto her phone. She’s very zen at the moment. Suddenly her phone rings, and she frowns, opening one eye in annoyance. This is her free time. How dare someone interrupt it.

She looks at the phone and sees that Joe is calling, and picks up. “Lily Anne Mercury, speaking. You’ve interrupted my bath time, so this better be worth it, Dinosaur Boy.”

Joe gasps. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Lily. I can call later, but I think you’d want to hear this.”

She nods and leans back. “Alright. What’s going on?”

“Ben asked me to do something,” he says.

Lily Anne perks up, smiling. “Oh?”

“Don’t get too happy. He asked me to ask you to the Golden Globes.”

She sighs and leans back in the tub. “Oh… why isn’t he asking me?”

“He got scared, alright? I know I’m not him, and you’d rather be with him, but would you like to go to the Golden Globes with me? You don’t need to be by my side the entire time, just on the red carpet. Once that’s over, feel free to do whatever--” Joe begins ranting, and it’s the most considerate rant Lily Anne has ever heard.

“I’d love to go to the Golden Globes with you, Joe,” Lily says, smiling fondly.

“Great! It’s a date then,” Joe responds.

“What color is your bow tie? I can try to match it, if you’d like,” Lily asks, petting her pup lazily with one hand.

“I was thinking just doing a black one. Wear whatever you want. You’ll look good in anything.”

Lily laughs. “You’re too kind, darling. I’ll try not to overdress.”

Joe lets out a breath of laughter. “Alright. I’ll see you soon, Lily. Get back to your bath.”

“Have a nice night, Joe,” she responds before hanging up and letting out a deep sigh.

She looks down as Reykja blinks up at her curiously.

“I really thought Ben was going to ask me, didn’t you, girl?”

The dog lets out a yip of agreement.

“It’s alright, though. I’ll be fine, love. There’s always other events.”

1991

“Darling, must you do this?” Freddie asks from the tub filled with bubbles, looking over at Jim. “She’s still so young.”

Jim raises a brow and looks over at Freddie. “I found a knot in her hair yesterday that looked like it could be a bird’s nest, Freddie. It’s time.”

Freddie takes time to release a bone-shaking cough and leans back in the tub. “It’s such a shame, though. Her curls are immaculate!”

Jim sighs. “She’ll still have the curls afterward. If anything they’ll be more pronounced since her hair will be shorter.”

Lily Anne’s hair has gotten out of control, lately. It is past her butt, and the Indian genetics she has makes it very thick. Nobody in their right mind would be alright with spending over an hour detangling a two-year-old’s hair every day.

Freddie frowns. “Oh, alright. Just make sure she looks cute.”

Jim grins and kisses the little girl propped up on the bathroom counter. “She’s half you. Of course she’ll look cute. She’ll be beautiful no matter what haircut she has.”

Lily Anne coos, waving her little hands around. Her parents grin at her, and Freddie looks on with a happy gaze. He’s so lucky to be able to see her grow at least this much, though he knows that his time in this world is coming to its close.

“Ready for the cut, flower?” Jim asks. “It won’t hurt, sweetie.”

Lily blows a spit bubble and as Jim cuts her wet curls, she makes her mouth into an ‘o’ shape and watches in the mirror. She giggles and takes a handful of her hair, giving it a gentle tug. Jim pries her fingers away and quickly finishes the job, and Lily grins, looking at her shoulder-length curls.

Jim turns the girl towards Freddie and grins.

“You look amazing, darling girl!” Freddie coos hoarsely, smiling at his baby girl.

“You really should trust me more, love. I told you she’d look wonderful no matter what haircut she has,” Jim chuckles, kissing Lily’s cheek.

Preparing for the Golden Globes

Lily Anne smiles as her ends are trimmed, watching in the mirror. “My dad gave me my first haircut, you know. He was a barber before becoming the gardener at Garden Lodge,” she says, smiling wistfully.

The hair stylist smiles, trimming a little bit more off her ends. “That’s so sweet! Did he always cut your hair?”

She laughs. “Yes, until I began dying my hair in college and doing crazy punk hairstyles by myself. He seemed horrified but didn’t complain. He even bought me a hair straightener that wouldn’t fry it nearly as much as the cheap one I had.”

The stylist nods. “I remember when you would come out with crazy hair colors and choppy bangs and I really loved it.”

She grins. “Thank you, darling. That’s so sweet!”

The rest of the time passes and by the end of it, Lily’s hair is in a half bun, with the rest of it gently curled. Then, the makeup artist comes in and does a fairly natural look on her, but with an intense smokey eye. When she looks in the mirror, she smiles.

“Oh, it’s perfect, darling! Thank you so much!”

The artist smiles and shrugs. “You were a wonderful canvas. Thank you for the opportunity, Miss Mercury.”

She scoffs. “Call me Lily. I will be calling you the next time I’m in Los Angeles. Consider yourself booked for the Oscars, love.”

The makeup artist leaves and Lily changes into her dress, which is a stunning custom McQueen mermaid gown, emerald green with Swarovski crystals adorning the entire thing in place of embroidery. It dips low and creates a lot of cleavage, and the crystals are in the shape of Freddie’s face. Her assistant helps her put on her crystal choker and hoops, and she smiles as she looks in the mirror. Finally, her Louboutins are put on, and she hears a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” She asks.

“Your hot date,” Joe replies.

She picks up her matching clutch and opens the door, revealing Joe in a nicely tailored suit. He looks her over, in awe.

“Wow, Lily… I’m the one with the hot date,” he says, looking at the dress. “That’s Freddie’s face! Holy shit!”

She shakes her head. “The suit fits you perfectly, Mr. Mazzello. You look absolutely dashing. How are you still single?”

Joe shrugs. “I dunno. Must be my personality, I guess.”

Lily scoffs and shakes her head. “I’ll have none of that self-depricating nonsense tonight. Now, let’s get to the car, shall we?”

Joe holds out his arm for her and she takes it, smiling as they walk downstairs to the car, where Gwil and Ezichi are waiting. Allen, his daughter, Ben, Rami, and Lucy have already left for the event.

They enter the car and Gwil looks at Lily’s dress, nodding in approval. “You look very nice tonight, Lily. I love the dress.”

She grins. “Why thank you, Gwil! The suit is fabulous. Did Ezichi have the final say?”

Ezichi kisses Gwil’s cheek and nods. “Of course I did, and didn’t I do well?”

Joe nods. “Hell yeah, you did. You didn’t do too badly yourself, Zichi. That’s a wonderful pantsuit.”

Ezichi is wearing a white and black harlequin wide leg pantsuit with small diamonds on the edges of it, and she looks stunning.

Ezichi grins. “Thank you, Joe. It might be hard to piss in, but at least I look great.”

Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend. “You look magnificent, Zichi.”

Ezichi leans into her boyfriend and Lily lets out a fake vomit noise with Joe.

“Disgusting,” Lily says.

“Find a room,” Joe adds.

“If you wanted to fuck that badly, you shouldn’t have chosen a pantsuit,” Lily comments.

The pair blushes and Lily and Joe crack up, leaning back in their seats.

---

When they’re escorted to the red carpet, Ben is waiting for Joe to arrive, and when he sees Lily Anne--

Wow. She looks gorgeous.

Instant regret fills his head, and thoughts swirl as she approaches in her green gown.

‘Why didn’t you ask you, you bloody idiot? She’s stunning, and she could be on your arm right now if you had the fucking balls to ask her to the event. You’re an idiot, a right idiot, and you blew it.’

He’s forced out of his thoughts when she comes up to him, smiling. “No plus one, Ben?”

Ben refocuses on her. “A-ah, no. No plus one. My mum couldn’t come with me, and I didn’t want to ask anyone on Tinder.” He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s a shame.” She thinks for a moment before smiling. “You know what? I can be both yours and Joe’s plus one. I’m alright with being shared for the night.”

Joe comes up to Ben and gives him a hug. “Looking good, buddy.”

Ben grins at Joe. “Better than Cardy B?”

Joe laughs and nods. “Much better than Cardy B.”

Lily grins, taking both boys’ arms. “It’s showtime, boys. Let’s show them all how wonderful we are.”

The trio walks down the red carpet, and their names are screamed by the masses. Cameras flash, and Lily helps them navigate with practiced poise. She’s been doing this since she was a child, and the spotlight is where she belongs. They split up once it gets to the photos, and she puts on a smile, showing off her custom gown.

After some group photo ops, Lily goes off with Zichi and Lucy, and the girls enter the building.

Lucy smiles at Lily as they stop by the bar, and squeezes her hand. “What was your favorite cocktail when you drank?”

Lily looks at Lucy and smiles. “I loved Moscow mules.”

Lucy nods and looks to the bartender. “Can you make a vodka tonic and a virgin Moscow mule, please?” The bartender nods, and Lucy turns back to Lily. “You look upset. Is it because Ben didn’t ask you to the event?”

She lets out a deep sigh and Zichi rubs her back. “He loves you, Lily. It’s just because he’s nervous.”

Lily shakes her head. “Everyone is saying that, but… I need to hear it from him before I fully let myself believe it. I mean, him loving me would be a dream come true. I’ve never experienced my dreams going according to plan. Most times they backfire. I can’t risk losing this one. If I do… I’ll never find anyone I love as much as I love him.”

The bartender passes them their drinks, and Lily Anne tries hers. It tastes… delicious. Her face lights up.

“Excuse me, darling? I must have the recipe for this drink. It’s amazing, and to do it without alcohol is impressive.”

The bartender nods and writes down the recipe on a napkin, grinning. “I’m glad you like it! Here you go. Enjoy.”

She takes the napkin and places it in her clutch, grinning.

Lucy smiles. “Did that make tonight a little better?”

Lily nods, and Zichi hugs her friend. “You deserve nice things, Lily. One of those nice things can be Ben.”

Lily smiles and when she pulls away, she smirks. “One of your nice things can be rocking hotel sex. You don’t have to clean the sheets the next day, so go wild!”

Ezichi coughs, keeling over at Lily’s words. Lucy laughs, leaning against the bar. Lily sips her drink, pleased with herself.

When Brian and Roger enter and see the scene, immediately they tense up as they see a drink in Lily’s hand.

“That better be bloody virgin, Lily,” Roger says, raising a brow.

She nods and smiles, holding out her drink for him to try. “100% virgin, unlike us.”

He sips the drink and nods before handing it back to her. “Not bad. I like it. What’s got Zichi so red?”

She smirks. “I told her that she deserves good hotel sex.”

Roger scoffs and nods. “Hell yeah, she does! The best part is that you don’t have to wash the sheets afterward!”

Lily grins. “That’s what I said.”

Ezichi grimaces. “He’s corrupted you.”

Roger grins and kisses Lily’s forehead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and jostling her. “Been doing that since day one.”

Brian speaks up, rubbing Ezichi’s back. “We’re going to take our seats with Rami, but we’ll see you later. Hopefully, we win something,” he says, crossing his fingers.

Lily nods and hugs her uncle. “Of course you will. Freddie’s energy was central in the movie, and he thrived despite the odds. This movie will too.”

Brian kisses the top of her head and smiles. “Send some good energy to us, alright?”

She nods. “Of course we will. You go sit down.”

Rami is walking by and comes over, kissing Lucy. She smiles and as he leaves, he yells, “Let's do this shit!”

Brian and Roger join the younger man and Lily laughs.

“He’s so strange and wonderful,” Lucy says, placing her hand on her cheek.

Lily nods. “I agree. Let’s go to our seats.”

The girls head off to get to their seats.

—-

Ben leans back on the couch, nursing a glass of sparkling water. Joe comes over to join him, holding a vodka tonic.

“Not drinking yet, Ben?” He asks, sitting next to his friend.

Ben shakes his head. “Nah. I don’t want Lily to be the only sober one and have to take care of us both. I’d feel bad if she had to do that.”

Joe presses his lips together. “You regret not asking her, don’t you?”

Ben nods, closing his eyes. “She looks… so beautiful. To think I could’ve had her on my arm but I chickened out makes me feel like an idiot.”

Joe nods. “She looks amazing. You know what? Don’t be sad.” He slaps Ben’s thigh. “She can sit in between us. You’ll get to have time with her alone later, alright?”

Ben rubs his thigh. “Sure. Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it.”

Lily walks in with Zichi and Lucy, and Gwil wraps an arm around his girlfriend, leading her over to the couch, where she promptly leans her head on his chest. Lucy sits next to Rami’s mother.

Joe and Ben part and pat the seat in between them, and Lily sits in between the pair, smiling.

Joe stands up and looks over the crowd. “I’m going to get a refill. Does anyone want anything?”

The group gives Joe their orders, and he walks over to the bar. Lily Anne leans back, squeezing Ben’s hand.

“How’d the red carpet stuff go?” she asks him, smiling.

“Good,” he says, smiling. “The interviews went well.”

She smiles and nods. “Great! That’s wonderful, Ben! Interviewers can be shitty and ask dumb questions, so I’m glad yours were good.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “One of them implied that Roger in the 70’s wasn’t beautiful, so I replied and said that he was wrong, and if I was around, I may have turned.”

She snorts, covering her mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that answer.”

Joe comes back and hands people their drinks. He takes his seat and sips his own, watching as the T.V. turns on the awards show starting. The crowd quiets, and Lily smiles. Her parents are watching fondly from above.

---

The anticipation in the room is palpable when the announcer opens the envelope containing the name of the winner. Lily squeezes Ben and Joe’s hands and prays a silent prayer that Rami wins.

When his name is announced, they stand and scream, hugging each other and laughing. There is no sweeter feeling than a well-earned victory. She launches herself into Ben’s arms, and the sound of his laughter fills her with joy. She looks up at him, and their noses touch, and she freezes up because if she just leaned in a few inches closer she’d be kissing him, and he’s looking down at her and panicking--

Joe comes up behind her and turns the affair into a group hug, and she’s snapped out of her thoughts, laughing once more. When they sit down, she takes a deep breath and looks at Ben, who’s staring straight ahead with a wide eyed look on his face.

Oh, God. That could’ve been fucked up so quickly.

When she turns back to the screen to watch Rami’s acceptance speech, she feels Ben’s eyes on her and blushes.

The second win garners a similar reaction, but this time, Lily hugs Joe, just to avoid making a mistake with Ben. Lord knows that this time, she might not have been able to restrain herself.

---

The afterparty is hosted in Roger’s suite, and after being so kind as to ask permission to drink from Lily, she tells Ben that he can drink however much he wants. He promptly downs four shots of vodka without blinking, and Lily is shocked. The alcohol will hit hard and she knows it. However, she’s curious to see what the alcohol does to Ben.

Apparently, he becomes a frat boy. He’s with Joe, who’s honestly just a sillier version of himself under the influence of alcohol, and they walk over to where she’s sitting.

“Are you from Tennessee?” Ben asks her, grinning.

“I’m from London, you know that, Ben,” she says, raising one unimpressed brow.

“‘Cause you’re the only ten I see,” he continues, laughing at his own joke.

She snorts and sips her sparkling water, shaking her head. “Those four shots hit you hard, didn’t they, Ben?”

“Okay, okay. Let’s try another one.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, and Lily Anne is so confused as to why she isn’t completely turned off by this behavior. “I hope you know CPR.”

“I’m certified,” Lily Anne replies, nodding matter of factly.

“Because you’re taking my breath away!” Ben finishes, a grin only growing on his face.

Joe is leaning on Ben, laughing heartily. Lily purses her lips, sighing.

“Still not impressed?” Ben asks, pouting. “Fine. One more.” He holds out his arm to her. “Feel my shirt.”

“This is your jacket, Ben,” she states, looking up at him.

He shakes his arm, whining. “Just feel it, okay?”

She sighs and feels the jacket material before looking up to see a smirk on his face.

He leans down and grins, his breath smelling like alcohol. “It’s boyfriend material.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “That was great, Ben.”

Ben giggles and looks at Joe with excitement in his eyes. “Mate, she likes me! Your lines worked!”

Lily laughs. She likes Ben, but not because of some cheesy pick up lines. Joe grins and hugs Ben, and she watches them tackle each other happily.

“I think someone had pizza delivered. Why don’t you two get some?” Lily comments, smiling.

The two boys grin at each other and stumble through the crowd towards the kitchen for food.

When they leave, Lucy sits down next to her, and holds her free hand. “Are you having fun, Lily?”

She nods, smiling. “Of course I am! I love seeing all my friends happy.”

Lucy grins. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She leans in, her smile widening. “I saw Ben and Joe coming over here. What happened?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ben tried to use some pick up lines Joe taught him on me. They were exceptionally bad.”

She laughs, and sips her champagne. “He really does like you, Lily.”

She nods, rubbing her temples. “I know. We nearly kissed earlier, but stopped before it happened.”

Lucy gasps. “Oh my god, when? How did I miss it? Why did you stop?”

Lily sighs. “When Rami won, we hugged, our noses touched, and I froze up, panicking. I don’t want to ruin anything between him and I, so we both didn’t go any closer.”

Lucy squeals. “But that would’ve been so cute!”

Lily raises a brow. “It wouldn’t have been cute once I found out that he doesn’t love me as deeply as I love him.”

Lucy nods, pursing her lips. “I understand why you’re scared. You don’t want to lose a good thing. I get it. But one of these days, you’ll need to confess.”

Lily nods. “I know. I’ll do it eventually.”

Lucy shrugs. “Who knows? It could lead to something beautiful.”

She smiles and squeezes Lucy’s hand. “You should probably find Rami. He’s a mess navigating a party without you.”

Lucy smiles. “I should. Take what I said into consideration though, alright?”

Lily nods. “Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Lucy leaves to find her man, and Lily sits back, watching as everyone enjoys themselves.

---

After frat boy Ben comes clingy Ben. Joe brings him over, and Lily raises a brow.

“I surely hope you’re not here for more bad pick up lines,” she says.

Joe shakes his head. “Nah. He just started whining and wanted to see you, so I brought him over before he could start crying.”

Ben whines into Joe’s shoulder, mumbling incoherently.

Lily nods. “I think we should take him back to his hotel room. He seems a little too far gone.”

Joe nods in agreement. “Yeah. I’m going to stay a little longer and make sure everyone gets back safely, but if you don’t mind taking him back, I’d appreciate it.”

She smiles and nods. “I’ll manage him.” She stands up and lets Joe drape Ben onto her.

Joe smiles and looks at Ben. “You’re with Lily now. Are you happy?”

Ben nuzzles into Lily and nods, mumbling, “Yay. Finally.”

Joe lets out a little laugh. “I’m going to go now. Get back safe, alright?”

She smiles and nods. “Of course. Come along, Ben. Let’s get you home.”

Ben looks up at her and blinks, confused. “Home is in London.” He gasps, eyes wide. “We’re not in London, are we?”

She shakes her head. “No, darling. We’re in Los Angeles. I meant home as in your hotel room.”

Ben blinks, pouting slightly. “I wanna go home.”

She nods, placing a hand on his cheek. “We’re going home tomorrow, lovie.”

He whines, shaking his head. “No, like-- like my room.”

She sighs and supports his waist as he follows her out of the suite and down the hallway. He begins to ramble, and she simply entertains his commentary.

“You look real pretty tonight, Lily.”

“Thank you, Ben. You looked very pretty as well.”

“My stylist chose the suit. I like it.”

“I like it too, Ben.”

“Who chose your outfit?”

“I helped design it with the head fashion stylist at Alexander McQueen.”

“Wow. You did good.”

“I know, love.”

“Can you design something for me?”

“I can do that, Ben.”

Ben squeals happily and buries his head in her shoulder, squeezing her waist tightly. “Yay!”

They get to the elevator and walk in, and Lily presses the button, keeping Ben’s hands away from the console as he reaches for it. He whines and shakes his head, and as the bell dings and they get to the lobby, a chauffer for the BoRhap cast sees them and helps them into the car, where Ben promptly lays his head down in Lily’s lap. He mumbles something as she straps him in and she looks down at him.

“What did you say, darling?”

“Touch my hair.”

She frowns. “Why?”

He looks up at her with pleading eyes. “It feels good.”

She sighs and obliges, running her hands through his hair, and within five minutes of the ride, he’s snoring into her lap. It feels comfortable and soft and she takes a picture of him, smiling. She’s saving that to her hidden files in her camera roll.

When they get to the hotel ten minutes later, she shakes Ben awake, and he lets out a confused noise, lifting his head.

“It’s time to get up, love.”

“We’re home?”

“Mhm. We’re home.”

The driver helps her get Ben out of the car, and he leans heavily on her as they walk inside and to the elevator. They get to Ben’s floor and she takes the key card from his pocket, helping him inside. He flops onto his bed, and she sighs heavily.

“Ben.”

A tired groan.

“Take off your jacket, at least.”

“You do it.”

“Turn over, and I will.”

Ben slowly obliges, and Lily walks over, unbuttoning the jacket. She heaves him up to take it off, and he looks at her, smiling. She looks down at him and raises a brow.

“What’s that look for, Ben?”

“Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles and helps him back down, squeezing his hand. “Of course. It’s no problem, darling. You’d do the same for me.”

She hangs up the jacket and looks back to see Ben failing to unlace his shoes. She leans down and helps him, and when he curls up on the bed, she covers him with a hotel blanket. Immediately, she hears snores, and leaves the room, heading back for her own.

---

Ben wakes up and blinks, confused. He has no idea how he got here, and no idea how he managed to take off and hang his suit jacket and untie his shoe laces. He drank far too much last night, and doesn’t remember much after eating pizza with Joe.

When he sits up, he groans from a pounding headache, and lays back down. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table and groggily tells Siri to call Joe. After putting the phone on speaker phone mode, and a few rings, Joe answers him.

“How much do you hurt?” he asks.

“More than I ever have in my life. Will you tell me what happened?” Ben asks, rubbing his eyes.

“You took some shots, drank some more, hit on Lily with bad pick up lines I gave you, and almost cried when I wouldn’t bring you immediately to her, but ultimately, she brought you back.”

He frowns and groans, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, God… First I almost kiss her, then I hit on her, then she drags my ass back?”

Joe chokes on the water he’s drinking. “You almost did what?!”

“When Rami won, she hugged me, our noses touched, and shit-- I almost leaned in, but I panicked, and then she panicked, and then you made it a group hug.”

Joe lets out a groan. “Why’d I third wheel that? Jesus, Ben, I’m so sorry.”

Ben frowns. “What? You want me to have kissed her?”

Joe scoffs. “Of fucking course I want you to kiss her! You two are soulmates! I want you to get married and have babies!”

Ben shakes his head. “Get the fuck out of here with that crap, mate. I can’t think about things like that.”

Someone opens the hotel room door, and the smell of breakfast wafts into the room. Ben groans and opens one eye, and when he sees Lily walking in with a tray of eggs, salsa, and buttered toast, he blinks, confused.

“Lily? What’s all this?” he asks, slowly sitting up in bed.

“Hangover food. I had a feeling you’d need it.” She holds out a water bottle and two advil. “Take these first.”

Joe greets Lily. “Hi, Lily! How did getting Ben home go?”

She shrugs. “It was fine. He was a bit heavy to carry, but I managed.”

Joe laughs. “Well, I’m gonna let you go now, buddy. Enjoy your meal.”

Joe hangs up, and Ben blushes, unable to meet Lily’s gaze once he’s taken the advil and downed some water. “How’d you get in?”

She holds up his keycard. “I took this from you, because I knew you’d need the meal and I’d need a way to get in.”

He nods, and looks at the meal. “Why salsa?”

She smiles. “Put it in with the eggs. The spice helps immensely. Don’t worry. I told them to give you mild.”

He nods, and does as she says. He bites his lip, leaning back in bed. “Lily, I am so sorry for what I did when I was drunk. How bad were the pick up lines?”

Lily winces. “Pretty bad, mate. I’ll spare you the details.”

He groans, and takes a bite of the food. In a moment, he feels… almost better? He looks up at Lily as if she’s God.

“That already helped. How do you know such good hangover food?”

She looks down at him, and with a straight face, says, “I was an alcoholic, Benjamin.”

Ben covers his mouth, his face flushing bright red. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I absolutely forgot about that.”

Lily smiles gently and ruffles his hair fondly. “It’s alright, Ben. I take no offense.”

He continues eating, and looks absolutely miserable. She sits in a chair in the corner of the room and checks her emails. After a few minutes of silence, Ben speaks up.

“When do we leave the hotel?”

Lily looks at the itinerary and shrugs. “At six tonight. It’s currently eleven a.m., so you have plenty of time to recover and pack.”

Ben nods, slowly chewing his toast. “Okay. Good. If I were to get in a car right now, this meal would go to waste.”

She laughs and nods, rubbing the back of her neck. “I can’t say that’s never happened to me. Taking a bath always helped me with the nausea, so when you’re ready to get up, try that.”

Ben smiles at her and swallows. “Thanks, Lil.”

She smiles back at him. “Don’t mention it.” Her phone buzzes and she looks down at it. “Business call. I have to go, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

He nods, and watches as she leaves the room.

Maybe if after all he did to be a nuisance while drunk didn’t drive her away, she truly is his soulmate.

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback @samanthadegaro @lv7867 @fatbottomedcurls @redspecialty @haisimsim @peterparkeroos @teenwolflover28 @ixchel-9275 @alessandra-elle @onexlittlespark @queenficarchive @leah-halliwell92 @rrrogah-tayluhh @maddistudiess @queen-fam @evrsncnewyork @reddiefreddieee @babebenhardy

[aliesteem]

An Immensely Through Fine Dining Experience from the Brokest College Student Ever.

I’ve recently broken into my old, student email and was reunited with the dozens and dozens of papers I’ve written about dining in Culinary school. These papers scored me A’s and made me realize I possibly do have a future in writing. I’m still proud nearly two years later so I thought I’d share. Enjoy!

Introduction

I am a college student and with that, it’s practically needless to say that I am also broke, very broke. I, however, through great resilence have maintained my champagne dreams enough to actually see a fine dining experience. This is NYC, there had to be one I could afford. In my heavy search the top, three included Tocqueville, Del Posto, and Le Bernardin. These three I took into consideration because of there more affordable price range, beautiful display, and interior design I’ve seen online and (or) its popularity online. It was  Tocqueville that caught my eye. Located 1 East 15th Street in Manhattan, NYC. Tocqueville was most affordable as if they were thinking of college students like me who dreamt of a mouthful of caviar. The others came with a hefty price tag, ones that honestly made very nervous. To me, a $10 burrito Chipotle sounds like a luxury so you can imagine my reaction in finding out Le Bernardin restaurant that costs over $87 for its pri-fixe menu. It doesn’t sound like a shocking expense to some but on this side of the fence, it is.  Del Posto was a little more affordable at $50 but it still wasn’t in my price range.  Luckily, Tocqueville provided the most inexpensive pri-fixe menu only costing $36 for a three-course menu. I felt relieved. I decided this restaurant is my final choice.

Tocqueville, named after the French political sociologist and theorist is owned by husband and wife Marco Moreira and Joann Makovitzky who also own new restaurants 15th East and The Fourth in the same city. With no trouble found I found that the Chef is Jason Lawless on StarChefs.com. He has managed the kitchen since August 2011. The restaurant itself has been opened since 2000 and in seventeen years it has built its reputation of being one of the most innovative French-American restaurants in New York City. You can see from how modern chic yet classic they truly are by their restaurant design. From the photographs provided on the official website, tocquevillerestaurant.com - the look of the restaurant is a cool but clean creamy white and black color scheme. I can tell it is a place that provides excellence a traditional fine dining restaurant would hold but pulls themselves away from being boring and ordinary. I adore the minimalistic and classic take. Their dishes and plating looked absolutely sparkling as well. The picture heading the page of their menu category was the Grilled Filet of Beef. A pearly white plate of succulent meat topped with small diced tomatoes, red onion and herbs were appetizing enough for me to set a reservation for a party of two with a close friend.  

`Making the reservation was fairly easy. Once I called a person who sounded to be a young woman answered sweetly. I asked to make a reservation and she was very quick and efficient. There wasn’t any of the run around that I had anticipated. The space I wanted was open. It didn’t take any more than say four minutes. I was surprised. I expected the restaurant to be packed with reservations especially on a Friday. We talked for a short while after about what will partake once I arrived. The phone call was my first experience with Tocqueville’s true hospitality. It made me all the more comfortable with coming in and dining.  

My expectations in visiting Tocqueville are sky-high. For one, it is a fine dining restaurant. I’ve never been to one. This is exciting, I want it to be fascinating. Above all, I am looking forward to the food. Since I’m a meat and a wine lover the Red Wine Braised Short Rib sounds appetizing. I cannot wait. There is a bit of nervousness about the way the employees will treat me, however. I am visibly very young and a person of color. I sometimes feel when I enter nice places that I’m not supposed to be there. I feel like the oddball. In past experiences the waiters did nothing to eliminate that feeling, making me more unsettled with long stares and awkward treatment. Other guests dining had body language that expressed that I was ruining the atmosphere for them.  I hope that doesn’t happen this time but as always I am remaining positive. From what I know now Tocqueville is a beautiful restaurant with a kind, warm friendliness. I’m counting down the days till the visit.  

The Visit

I woke up a Friday morning with a Ferris Buller-type charisma and energy. I was going to visit a beautiful fine dining restaurant in the city! I have never been to a French restaurant before much less one that was seemingly so elegant. I had the jitters. What should I wear? How should I do my hair? Which train should I take? Is my friend going to be on time? Did I give her the right directions? A million and one questions running through my head. I thought I ought to relax my nerves before I begin my day. I snugged my feet into my orange fluffy slippers and made my way to the kitchen. I picked a Lavender Jasmine mix tea from my collection to boil. Tea always soothes the soul. I brought my mug to the window and looked out for a moment. The day was chilly, sunny but very chilly. “How am I going to dress nicely and still be warm?” I asked myself then take a short sip. I was still nervous but pushed to let it go and know everything will go well.  

My reservation was at 12pm sharp for lunch. It was already about 8am and I know how slow I can be with getting ready in the morning so I start right away. I jump into the hot shower, brush my teeth and prep my skin with scrubs and cleansers for makeup. I hop out, dry off, put most of my day’s clothes on and begin to do my makeup. This takes the longest out of getting ready. I try to see if I can get it done within 30 minutes' time. Nope! It took me almost an hour because I kept messing up but luckily I started early so I was still in good time. I decide on a long, oversized, grey sweater that flows over my black leggings. I pair it jet black heels. Next, was my hair, I have natural, kinky curly hair that usually needs lots of attention but yesterday I braided it up. All l had to do now was unravel them so they can come out fluffy and defined. Once all my clothes were on, fully moisturized, fixed my hair and makeup done and feeling confident to step outside it is 10am. I get a text from my friend, who I invited to dine with me.  “I don’t know what to wear!” she texts. She thinks she’s going to be late. I knew it but I didn’t stress. I tell her don’t think too much in it, just wear something nice but no jeans or sneakers. She tells me she’ll figure it out. I just hope she makes it on time. I make sure everything around the apartment is tidy and in order before I head out the door. I text my mother that I am leaving to go to the restaurant since she’s already at work. She texts me “Good luck!” and I’m out the door.  

I live on a very popular, main street in Brooklyn. It’s loud and lively this time of day. People are heading to work and school in droves. Walking down the block to catch the A train I run into a family friend I haven’t spoken to in a long time. So long, in fact, I can’t even remember her name but her face is vivid in my memory. She asks how I am. I tell her about school and how much I love majoring in Hospitality Management since I’ve transferred from the old school. I keep in mind the time and explain to her I’m on my way to somewhere important and have to get going. She reminds me to say hello to my mother for her and I rush into the train station. Luckily the train arrives immediately. I’m not a train girl not in the least. I know it’s the New York way but I love traveling on an empty bus as oppose to a crowded train with performers yelling “It’s Showtime!” in my ear. It’s not my cup of tea. While I’m on the train I read a Pete Wells article I’ve pointed out. I need to know his review for a class. I’m really into it because I’m a fan of sushi. It’s one of my absolute favorites. The good read distracts me from the groups of people stuffing themselves into the cart along with the street entertainers swirling on poles above my head. I’m thankful.  

My stop is a Fulton Street which I switch over to a 4 or 5 train because it gets me to Union Square under ten minutes. Once I climb out of the train station I check my phone. There’s a text from my friend she says she needs more time but is about to get on the train now! It was 11:23am and we planned to meet at 11:30am. I guessed she lost track of time. I decided to find a way. I am kind of scared to walk in so I wait right outside the restaurant to wait for my friend meanwhile taking a few pictures of my own. It’s nearly 12pm but she is nowhere in sight. 

I go inside to introduce myself to a woman who I believe is the Maître d’ of the restaurant. I tell her my reservations and how I am a student doing a report. Her face suddenly gleams in a huge smile and asks if I talked to Roger. I express I don’t know who Roger is even though I feel I should know. She tells me to sit down which she gets him for me. In a few minutes, Roger is in front of me. A short, well-suited older man with blonde white hair. I don’t recognize him but he says he’s a professor at my school. He begins to ask me questions about wine. I was taken aback a little because I wasn’t expecting it. I tell him my Wine & Beverage professor that I’m taking now, Professor Aliah. I convey how much I’m enjoying her class and all the elements in detail there is to wine-making. It turns out Professor Roger is a Master Sommelier. I wished I said more about wine to him but I was so nervous I’m not used to settings like these.  My friend still wasn’t there after the talk with Roger. I told him I’d wait a bit longer she is supposed to come any second and he told me to take all the time I need. In the meantime, I took pictures and looked around the restaurants outside and the entryway. The name of the dining establishment is printed white on a black sight like a tent over the sidewalk.  The door where the guest enter is made up of all glass. It is chic, modern and simplistic. The Maitre D’s desk in the reception appeared tall, sleek, dark wood tabletop with a shiny, brown wooden, dimmed lamp. There are also award plaques and photos framed all along the wall. Their awards included the 2016 Forbes Magazine’s Restaurant with the highest rating. Best of Award of Excellence 2016 by Wine Spectacular and a 4.8 out of 5 from Zagat 2017. The restaurant is not just popular but highly respected and celebrated, making its way to more great success is that they’ve been recently recommended by the Michelin Guide in 2016.  

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 I looked at the time on my phone and it said 12:30am. Since I was already checked in I figured I was safe from losing my reservation but I opted to seat in the dining room than to take up space in the front seating area any longer. To get to the dining room one needed to pass by the bar. The bar designed with a black and silver color scheme was the most modern section in the restaurant. On the bar top sat a huge marble vase filled with light blue, yellow and pastel green orchids that touched the ceiling. Soothing French jazz spilled gently out of the above speakers. The ambiance, graceful and contemporary. I was in awe. I actually hoped I could have my lunch there.   As soon as I sat down Roger offered me water and the front server – who name escapes me handed me a menu. I told him I wanted to wait for a friend. He was very kind and understood. Pouring the water I realize the glasses were short, open chalice glasses, still easy to hold by them small stem. It was fifteen minutes later when I heard my friend’s voice speaking to the Maitre D’ in the reception area. Seconds later she came walking in the dining area and sat down. She apologized for the lateness. I’ve been late to her events before so I could only be so upset. Seconds later the front server returned to hand us menus.

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The menus were the longest menus I’ve seen. The outside a smooth olive green, the outside a yellow and cream menu with a folder style with all its printed dishes in bold and script. The front server in his black and white uniform finished with a sharp blue tie read over some of the meals that were listed. I appreciated his attentiveness. His body language was confident, alert to where I was impressed by his time and time again throughout the service. He was very efficient when scanning the room and our table. I took the opportunity to ask him the style of the napkin fold, neither did Professor Roger. “We simply make up the style,” he told me. The back server then came up to us from a side station behind the elongated gold curtains and offered bread. I was watching his Frenching style closely. He did it so quickly, it looked easy for him. When I attempt it in class I often lose the stability of the utensils in my hand. I chose the focaccia which was scrumptious. It was dense but not overbearing with flavor. The focaccia was filled with olives, spices, herbs and was beyond incredible with the home-made butter. I asked for another.  

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My friend and I talked about our morning getting ready and caught up with each other’s lives since we haven’t talked in a month. In perfect timing, the front server came to take our orders. We picked two courses from the pri-fix menu. I ordered the Organic Potato and Baby Leeks Soup as an appetizer and a Red Wine Braised Short ribs entrée. As we waited for our meals and the back server pointed each of our tables I observed the dining area. The dining area was mildly lit from the light gold, sparkling crystal chandelier from above. The walls were a warm yellow with rich, gold curtains to match. The seats were made up of a comfortable cool silver, velvet. My attention was grabbed by the gigantic paintings on the wall that was created by an artist named Cheryl Roy Starer. The abstract art stood up on the walls so stunning with its blends of green, blue and white. It was a conversation piece definitely.  We were met with a unique hors d'oeuvres compliments of the Chef. It’s a fresh new take on the Southern-known treat. It’s a toasted golden brioche topped with the cooked yolk and whites of a quail eggs and finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs we centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs from whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread and quail eggs whites hard-boiled finished with Alabama caviar.  The deviled eggs centered on an all-white porcelain dish designed by Bernardaud Classic Silverware. This was my first time having caviar. The flavors delicate and salty, reminded me of sardines in a way. The texture was cold creamy goodness. I wished I could have more. As we scrapped the crumbs of whatever was left of the exquisite deviled egg dish the back server approached us again to offer more bread. I was waiting. 

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This reminded me of my Dining Room class where we service almost the same exact way, consistently offering our guest all the bread they’d like. It was nice to be on the other side of the service. I chose the focaccia again. I could not get enough. This time however I was able to dip it into the Potato Leek soup which arrived moments later. When I first saw the bowl it was only filled with sautéed’ black mushroom and a miniature leek in the center of the bowl. I thought to myself there must be a mistake. Turns out the front server came prepared with a tiny creamer pitcher and poured the creamy soup into the bowl right in front of me. It was original and added a special touch. To be completely honest, I was expecting the soup to be bland. I’ve had potato soups so lackluster I pushed myself to finish a bowl. This wasn’t the case. The soup was luscious and silky, earthy with just enough seasoning. The soup was so harmonious with my pallet I was tempted to lick the bowl. I reminded myself I was in a very classy place but it was difficult not to, simply divine! When the entrée arrived I was the most enthusiastic. I am a huge meat lover. Anything meat I am a fan of. I’ll choose it over anything in the menu. I looked at the plate in front of me. The dish appeared kind of odd. My image of short-ribs wasn’t this. The dish came in a wide, circular plate. The meat of short rib formed in a rectangle, an island centered in the middle of potato puree. The short rib was glossed over with a deep brown red wine sauce that resembled chocolate. A lady sitting across from our table asked what dessert we ordered. We told her it was actually an entrée and she was surprised. On top of the short rib sat a roasted pearl onion and cylinder chunks of buttered carrots. The short rib melted on my fork as I cut through it. It was wonderfully tender, I didn’t need a knife. The flavor was robust, the sauce adding a vigorous taste of richness. Swirling a piece of the meat through the potato puree and putting it in my mouth it felt like I was eating butter. It has to be the most well-presented, heavenly dishes I’ve experienced in recent years.  Unfortunately, I was unable to order a dessert since I was on such a strict budget. Next time I’d make sure to experience the sweet parts of their cuisines. 

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It took a while before the check came and I appreciate that. Usually, the front server passes the check to me as soon as the last fork bite leaves my mouth and I find it disrespectful. It hints that the server wants you to hurry up and leave completely killing the feeling of hospitality. My friend and I were fully ready to go when the bill came. It came up to $63.15 for both of us, not too pricey. We decided to tip 20% then we were on our way out but not before I could check out the bathrooms. There were three available bathrooms in the restaurant. One upstairs, one ground level and the other downstairs. I chose the downstairs bathroom. The staircase down was dark with small, glowing gold light to lead the way. The bathroom was covered in light and dark brown marble. The look gave a beach house theme added with the beige weaved baskets and dried plants spray painted gold. The vases were filled with white seashells. The walls were a sexy, dark gold against a shiny, wide mirror. The light was too dimmed, however. I couldn’t see myself as clearly as I would like. The bathroom was also extremely clean, immaculate even. I could tell the restaurant as a whole took tidiness and organization seriously.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly at this restaurant. The ambiance and décor gave me what I wanted, fully satisfying my eyes as well as mouth with every savory dish. I’m glad I decided to come here as opposed to other establishments. It was affordable yet delivered an essence of great fine dining. I plan on going with another friend for a celebration. I’ll try everything I had my eye on the second time around. The restaurant met all expectations and taught me an extra thing or two about quality service. It ensured a tranquil sense of hospitality and an intuitive and refreshing strategy in service. I’d recommend the restaurant to absolutely anyone.