#and sometimes it would not reach the last stage but i had a habit of not stopping once a ball was rolling.

[femmefaggot]

hmm

[finelinevogue]

an absolute nuisance

summary - harry is a nuisance in the morning

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - -1k

♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️🩶♾️

“What’s this for?” Harry sat up in bed against the headboard.

The duvet was pushed down onto his lap so his bare torso was showing. There was a little roll or two where his stomach was tucked over from where he was sitting.

“Happy first day of spring!” You smiled cheerily.

You felt happy this morning.

The sun was shining into your bedroom, the sky was cerulean blue and the birds were chirping away.

You handed Harry his mug of peppermint tea, which he religiously had every morning, whilst you enjoyed the classic english breakfast tea. Milk, no sugar.

“Thank you, m’love.” Harry smiled, giving you a moment to kiss him softly before you situated yourself beside him crossed legged.

“Sleep okay?”

You took a sip of your drink even though you knew it would be too hot.

Harry kept his hands around his mug as if it was the middle of winter, more out of habit than necessity.

“Mm, yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going ‘round to Noel’s this afternoon to drop off some tech gear.” Harry told you.

“Okay.” You nodded, “I’ve got work at 2.”

“When do you get off?”

“Should be about 6, but you know what they’re like.” You rolled your eyes.

“If Katherine keeps you for extra hours again, love.. I’m going down there myself to kidnap you.”

You chuckled, “Kidnap me?”

“Yeah. I’ll stage the whole thing. I’m an actor now, you know?” He winked at you, carefully taking a sip of his drink.

“Okay, Mr Hollywood.”

You stayed chatting about everything and nothing whilst you enjoyed your morning teas, before you decided to start getting ready for the day.

“Where you going?” Harry asked, his hand softly stroking small circles into the exposed skin of your thigh.

“Need to get ready.”

You reached over to draw the loose hairs away from his eyes, allowing your hand to brush over his cheek as it moved due his face.

Harry warmed at the feeling, his cheeks glowing in colour as your skin moved across his.

“Don’t go.” He pouted.

You moved from your cross legged position to sitting on your legs in a kneeling position. You leant closer to Harry and cupped both of his cheeks with your hands.

“I’m only going to get ready.” You kissed him. He kissed you.

“Wanna stay in this moment with you forever.” You kissed again.

“And make me late for a shift with Katherine? I don’t think so. If I had a dick, she’d cut it off.”

Your words sent a laugh through Harry, him complaining how sometimes you really did know how to ruin a moment. You took it as a compliment, because sometimes it would a good tactic to have.

“She’ll cut off my tits instead.”

“No!” Harry pretended to be horrified, which sent you into a fit of laughter. You sank you face down into the crook of his neck to hide yourself.

He smelt so good. And how? It was first thing in the morning and he smelt so homely and perfect.

Harry took the moment to his advantage, pushing himself over you and trapping you underneath him. The manoeuvre was too quick for you to even understand the logistics of it.

“Harry!” You sighed with a giggle.

“You have four hours before you need to leave.” He whined. “Stay with meeee.” He buried his face against your neck and left a trail of kisses there, getting close to the spot behind your ear that made you melt.

“But I need to do stuff.”

“Yeah? Like what? Maybe love on your boyfriend?”

“Gonna be just my friend in a moment if you don’t let me go.” You huffed.

Harry’s head perked up at that. “There’s nothing friendly about what you did to me last night.”

“You make it sound like you were helpless…” You giggled.

“I was!”

“Oh give over.”

“You had me completely surrendered.”

“You’re such a nuisance.” You groaned, trying to lift up but he was too heavy for you.

“And yet you love me. Sounds like you’ve got the issues, babe.” He teased you.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed you. Reluctantly, you kissed him too - which only ended up with you staying in bed for another four hours…

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

The rumble of the tour bus under your feet had become your constant companion, a soft and familiar hum that carried you from city to city, venue to venue. It was the background music to your life on the road with Bad Omens, an unpredictable, exhilarating, and exhausting adventure.

You had never imagined living this way—packing up everything, joining your boyfriend's tour, and trading stability for a life that was anything but ordinary. Yet here you were, sharing the cramped space of a bus with Bad Omens.

The bus was almost home now, strange as it felt sometimes. There was something comforting about the way everyone had their routines and quirks, their habits that made the chaos feel manageable.

Someone always made the worst jokes right as you were about to fall asleep and someone else would be quietly tuning his guitar at the oddest hours, but the guys had made you feel like family since day one, a part of their weird, makeshift little world.

You weren’t just Noah’s girlfriend—you were part of their crew now, someone they relied on for company, conversation, and a shared sense of belonging.

Still, it was Noah that made the madness feel like home. You had always loved him, but seeing him in his element—performing on stage, surrounded by music, his voice sending chills through the crowds—it made you fall for him all over again.

Every night you stood backstage, watching him lose himself in the music, his body moving in sync with the heavy beats and raw energy of the show. The way his voice carried through the venue, reaching out to thousands of screaming fans, always took your breath away.

Tonight, the venue was packed, the energy in the air electric. You stood near the stage entrance, just out of sight but close enough to see everything. Noah moved across the stage like he owned it, and in many ways, he did.

His voice was raspy and powerful, his body slick with sweat as he threw himself into every note, every lyric. The crowd was a sea of bodies, their energy matching his, feeding off every word he sang.

You watched in awe, as you did every night, your heart swelling with pride. He was magnetic, captivating everyone who watched him, but even amidst the chaos, he found you.

His eyes would seek you out between songs, a small, subtle glance that no one else would notice, but you knew it was for you. It was his way of saying, I see you. I’m still with you, even in this whirlwind.

The show reached its end, the final song ringing out through the venue as the fans screamed, their hands raised in adoration.

Noah gave everything to that last note, his voice straining in the best way, before the lights cut out and the band began to exit the stage. You stepped back, waiting for the guys to come through, still riding the adrenaline high.

Noah spotted you immediately as he stepped off stage. His eyes lit up, despite the exhaustion written across his face, and without a moment’s hesitation, he made a beeline for you.

Covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, his breathing ragged, he still looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His hands cupped your face, and before you could say a word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was intense, desperate, as if he needed to feel you, to ground himself in the midst of everything else. You kissed him back, not caring about the sweat or the heat radiating from his body. This was your Noah—wild, untamed, and perfect in his imperfections.

“You were incredible,” you whispered when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

He smiled, a small, tired smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’d still be amazing, but I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, running your fingers through his damp hair, your heart full. This was the life you had chosen, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After every show, the bus became a quiet sanctuary. The adrenaline would wear off, replaced by exhaustion, and the guys would retreat to their bunks, recharging for the next city, the next performance.

You and Noah had claimed the narrow bunk in the back corner of the bus. It was cramped and far from luxurious, but it was your little space. A space that, despite the lack of room, felt like a haven whenever you tangled together in the dim light of the bus.

You climbed into the bunk after Noah, curling up beside him, your bodies naturally fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close, and you felt the warmth of his chest against your back.

His breath was slow and steady, a soft rhythm that lulled you into a state of calm. His hand moved lazily across your skin, tracing patterns that made you feel safe, cherished.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” His voice was low and heavy with fatigue, but there was a softness to it that made your chest tighten with affection.

“I just love you,” you whispered, your fingers playing with his, twisting them together under the thin blanket. “That’s all.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering there as the bus rumbled beneath you, the soft sway lulling you both toward sleep. “I love you too.”

The bus continued its journey through the night, the world outside rushing past while inside, everything felt still, peaceful. The small bunk was warm and comforting, the quiet intimacy of being tangled up in Noah’s arms making you forget about the world outside. You drifted in and out of sleep, waking occasionally to feel Noah’s heartbeat steady against your back, his presence grounding you.

Mornings were some of your favorite moments. Waking up next to Noah in a new city, the promise of discovery hanging in the air, always brought a thrill.

Some mornings, before the bus really stirred to life, you and Noah would sneak out into the quiet streets, hand in hand, exploring new corners of the world together.

You’d find hidden cafes, tiny parks, or just walk aimlessly, soaking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds. These were the moments that felt like little treasures—private, unhurried, a reprieve from the noise of the tour.

Noah would often pull you close as you walked, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, or his fingers laced with yours, as if he needed the contact, needed to remind himself that you were there. The conversations would flow easily, sometimes deep and meaningful, other times filled with lighthearted teasing.

You’d talk about the future, about dreams that extended beyond the tour, and sometimes, you’d just walk in silence, content in each other’s company.

Eventually, the rest of the day would catch up with you both, and it was back to the venue, back to the rhythm of soundchecks and rehearsals. The bus became a hub of activity again, the guys joking and warming up, but there were always those quiet moments before the show where Noah found you.

He would seek you out, pulling you into his arms for a quick kiss, a whispered conversation before he had to disappear into the spotlight.

It was during those brief moments that you felt your love for him the most—knowing that even with everything else, with the demands of the tour, the fans, the music, he always found time to make you feel seen, loved.

Those little moments became the glue that held everything together, reminding you that no matter how chaotic things got, you had each other.

And so the tour continued, the cities passing by, the nights spent tangled in Noah’s arms, the mornings filled with quiet explorations. It wasn’t always perfect—there were tired days, long nights, and moments where the exhaustion felt overwhelming—but none of that mattered when Noah held you close.

You were on this wild, beautiful journey together, and that was all that mattered.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Hello! Can i request a platonic for Bonnie from Fnaf 1??? GN Reader if you can. Thank you!

Said in the initial post, but as a general reminder but when it comes to Bonnie & a few others, it’s just their AI, basically. No type of possession involved.

Anyway, enjoy :)

-

🐰|When you initially arrive at the location, you aren’t working as a security/night guard. You just kind of... broke in.|🎸

🐰|You aren’t planning on stealing or breaking anything—you were simply curious. You wanted to explore the place at night.|🎸

🐰|Bonnie was the first one you encountered during your first visit, and it had definitely caught you off guard... the both of you.|🎸

—

The door swung open, and you watched for a second, before stepping through it. You reached around to close it behind you.

Admittedly, this was something you’d always been wanting to do for some time—but there was usually someone else inside... a night guard.

However, you’d noticed for the past few days, that there was nobody else. It was completely empty... of humans, at least. There were the animatronics, obviously.

You chose not to look around in the current area... there wasn’t really anything interesting—at least not to you. You weren’t going to bother with it.

After making sure that you actually closed it, you began making your way to the doorway—the one that would lead you into the main area with the stage.

As you got closer, there was a... noise, one you couldn’t exactly identify, but it almost sounded like someone was-

Rounding one of the corners, and appearing in front of the doorway, was the bunny animatronic—Bonnie.

There was a second of silence and stillness, before the both of you started backing up in surprise.

—

🐰|While you’re there, he’s curious, yet a bit skeptical—he wants to watch you, and make sure you don’t do anything to the pizzeria.|🎸

🐰|Although, as you gain his trust and befriend the rabbit, he’s just with you because he can, and he likes you.|🎸

🐰|Unless actively performing with the others, Bonnie almost never speaks otherwise. You don’t mind that.|🎸

🐰|That rabbit is in a silly goofy mood most of the time. 👍 He messes around in the pizzeria, and kind of tries bringing you into whatever he’s doing.|🎸

🐰|He gives you bunny ears occasionally. Bonnie doesn’t think you notice, but you do... every single time.|🎸

🐰|Bonnie likes forts. He once saw some kids try to make one at the pizzeria- it got stopped, but still, he ended up liking those.|🎸

🐰|One visit, you enter to find Bonnie trying to build one, but not having any luck. So, you decide to help him out.|🎸

🐰|The two of you usually just do whatever, but pretty frequently after that, you’ll usually just be chilling with the rabbit in a fort, and hanging out.|🎸

🐰|Sometimes, he’ll play you a song that either of you like on his guitar.|🎸

🐰|You can’t go to the pizzeria every night—especially when there are guards, so there are often long gaps where you’re away.|🎸

🐰|Bonnie misses you each time. If he’s actually really down about the absence of his friend, the others try to cheer him up.|🎸

🐰|The first time you couldn’t visit, you hadn’t actually been able to tell him—and you didn’t go there for about three weeks.|🎸

🐰|When you did return/continue visiting when you could, you heard someone call your name, and it surprised you when you discovered it was Bonnie.|🎸

🐰|That was the first and last time that you’d actually heard him speak.|🎸

🐰|After the next guard quits, you actually consider taking the job, instead of just sneaking in.|🎸

🐰|When Bonnie discovers this—when it’s your first night—he feels so excited.|🎸

🐰|Every so often, Bonnie does actual rabbit habits—mostly when he’s excited/happy—which is usually around you, his friend.|🎸

[64yrsold]

give yourself a try!!

“C’mon, darling, it’ll be worth it,” I ushered him into the crowded venue, the band already filling the room with distorted noise.

“This is… Baby, is there enough room for us?” he scratched the back of his head anxiously, reaching for my hand out of habit.

“Sure there is,” I gave him a grin and a squeeze, and his eyebrows unknotted, “Humour me. I used to come here with my friends back in uni, remember?”

“Alright,” he gave in, letting me pull him to the bar.

I waved to the bartender, “Two ciders, please.”

“A cider?” he questioned in my ear, trying to speak above the band.

“It’s local,” I shrugged, “Nostalgic.” He didn’t seem convinced. He eyed up the stage, a glow in his eyes I was familiar with. I paid for the drinks while he was distracted, trying not to wince at the gouge to my bank account.

“This kid on the drums,” he popped his chin toward the drummer, who was madly flailing with perfect rhythm, “Fucking fantastic.”

“Maybe you can ask for some tips after the show,” I smirked, passing him the glass of amber gold.

“I actually would,” he looked at me seriously, taking a long sip. He hummed, looking at the glass closely, “This is nice.”

“Come on, I want to get closer,” I wrapped my hand around his wrist, holding my drink away from incoming elbows and shoulders.

“We’re alright here, aren’t we?” he squeaked behind me, but let me pull him a bit farther.

“Look, now you can actually see the band,” I grinned, settling into an empty corner.

“Well, I could see them back there,” he muttered, “Tall enough.” He let another long sip of cider slide down his throat. I tried to keep pace with him, finishing the glass once the first song had ended.

“Oh my God,” I shrieked, turning to him with wide eyes. He mirrored my expression, smiling softly at my excitement. “This song could bring me back to life.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve never said that about my songs.”

“Sure I have,” I frowned, and gave him a quick kiss as a distraction. He tasted sweet, like apples and mint. He wrapped an arm around my waist, letting me rest my hot cheek on his leather shoulder. He held me steady as I swayed and nodded to the music, squeezing my hip and laughing when I got a bit too excited. He moved to stand behind me as someone pushed past us, throwing his arms over my shoulders to press my back to his chest.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my jaw.

“What?” I said, ears overwhelmed with the droning bass and splintering snare. I looked back to find him grinning.

“You’re fucking gorgeous!” he shouted, picking me up off of the ground momentarily. This sent me into a fit of giggles, throwing my head back against him as he buried kisses in my neck. “One more drink, darling?”

“I can’t say no,” I smiled, letting him guide me through the mass of drunken strangers this time.

“Two more ciders, if you can,” he called to the bartender, pulling out his credit card. His mouth popped open with realization, and he looked at me sternly, “Did you pay last time?” I only shrugged. He sighed, turning to the bartender again, “Get us two shots of vodka as well.”

“It’s nice to treat you sometimes,” I leaned against the bar, looking up at him. He was contrast personified, the slick leather jacket hanging off his sweet, sugar skin. His soft, loose curls tumbling forward over his furrowed brow, hiding dark eyes and emphasizing his pretty pink mouth.

“Ah, sweetheart, you don’t understand,” he pressed a thumb into my red cheek, “You treat me just by keeping me company. Alright?”

“Alright,” I rolled my eyes, letting him pinch my chin. He handed me a shot and a cider, thanking the bartender, then giving him a serious look, “Don’t let this one pay for anything, yeah?”

The bartender shrugged, turning away.

“Cheers, baby,” I grinned, clinking our shot glasses together and downing the vodka. I winced, then laughed at his sour expression.

“Really doesn’t taste better as you get older,” he grimaced, then looped an arm around me to move us away from the bar. He leaned against a wall, pulling me against his chest. We listened quietly, sipping cider as another song passed by. He kissed the top of my head absently, humming harmonies and drumming his fingers into the middle of my back. I finished my glass as he finished his, setting them on a sticky table. The next song was gentle, a soothing melody which had me sighing against him.

“Could I have this dance, miss?” he mumbled into my ear, dropping a hand to grasp mine.

“I’d be honoured,” I curtsied, making him release a heavy laugh. He turned me into a spin, mouth open and grinning as he looked down our outstretched arms to meet my eyes. He pulled me in, catching me with a hand at my hip, pressing his hips to mine. He pulled my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles before laying my hand on his chest.

“I can hear your heart from here,” he smirked, tongue pushing into his cheek. “You don’t hide it very well.” He trailed his fingertips along my collarbone, placing his palm flush to the left side of my chest.

“Yours is practically beating out of your chest,” I teased, tapping my finger against his heaving chest, “You tired, old man?”

“Careful,” he licked his bottom lip, eyes jumping between my mouth and needy eyes.

“Poor thing,” I pouted, “All out of stamina. Just from a little dancing.”

His laughed dryly, “Sure.” He took my hand again, guiding me into another slow spin. I giggled, throwing my arm over his head to spin him once. He grinned as he turned, eager to meet my eyes again. He caught my other hand, pushing us apart, then pulling us together. He lowered his hands around my waist, and I pressed my head to his chest. We swung slowly to the rhythm, the room feeling emptier with each sway.

I peeked up at him, “You’re so pretty.”

“Aw, darling,” he nearly blushed, kissing my forehead, “You’re glowing.”

“I think I’m a little drunk,” I laughed, head tilted back to wait for a kiss.

“I’ve told you to stop trying to keep up with me,” he shook his head, tongue peeking out from between his teeth, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.”

“You gonna take me home?” I asked as he dipped to meet my lips. He kissed me, his mouth feeling like a promise.

“If you’d like.”

“I’d like,” I smiled as the song ended with a flourish. He gave the band an encouraging shout, his hands too busy to clap.

“Let’s get out of here,” he brushed a thumb over my cheek, eyes heavy as he pressed a kissed to my mouth, “Fast as we can."

//

[padfootagain]

The Surprise

Hi everyone! We’re answering a request made by an anon today : “First, I thought about this miscommunication fic, where reader and Ben have been together for a while now (and they are living together) and you know they pretty much have a “relationship goals” as their friends like to put it. But lately, reader have started to come home late, and have these secret calls, like she goes to another room whenever her phone rings, always on her phone texting, and well, this is looks suspicious and Ben’s alarms go off and he thinks you’re cheating and he confronts you about it, but it turns out you were preparing this super party for his birthday! And I’m not a big fan of miscommunication but you know sometimes happens and it’s normal.”

Thank you for your request, anon! I hope you like your fic!

I hope you all like this fic! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst and an awful lot of fluff!!

Summary: Despite his love for you, Ben starts doubting you as you seem to be hiding something for him these days. Little does he know that you’re actually preparing a surprise for his birthday.

Word Count: 2910

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Ben loved you with all his heart.

That was the truth he had discovered over the last few months. He was already head over heels for you at the beginning of your relationship, but he was cautious then. After all, the honey-moon phase was a force to be reckoned with. But the perfect first weeks led to amazing first months and a wonderful first year. Of course, you fought from time to time, and had your struggles, like all couples do. But there had been no real threat in your relationship as your first anniversary came in sight, and so it seemed logical to ask you if you would like to move in with him.

You had moved in a common flat six months before, and if it took the two of you a few weeks to adapt to the other’s habits, it became a smooth voyage again after a mere couple of months. Everything was great. Besides the few annoying moments that were quickly soothed down, all was fine. It was pretty perfect actually. And from being in love with you, Ben had now reached the stage where he was madly in love with you.

He wasn’t expecting to fall even harder for you, but he did. Living with you meant having you around all the time, going to bed every night with you, being certain to wake up by your side the next morning, sharing giggles while you washed your teeth together and hugging in the kitchen instead of making dinner. And these happened every day. And every day it felt like Ben was falling, and falling, and falling, over and over again…

Crazy, really. What was happening to him?

You. The answer was obvious and simple. You were happening to him. And he adored it, every second of it.

Or well, that was what had happened at first, but he was starting to have this terrible feeling clutching at his heart when he came home. He was waking up and a lump formed in his throat when he saw you on your phone at breakfast. He had nightmares about you leaving…

Your behaviour had changed the past couple of weeks. You were coming home late without any real reason, and you clearly lied when he asked you where you were. You moved to another room whenever you had a phone call, and you spent more time than usual texting… he had no idea who…

And it hurt to even think about it. Because Ben loved you with all his heart, but in front of these signs, he was starting to wonder if you truly felt the same.

What if you were seeing someone else?

He didn’t want to be that guy though. He didn’t want to be jealous, and he didn’t want to mistrust you, and he didn’t want to actually ask you about this, because he couldn’t believe that you would ever do something like this to him.

He wanted to trust you. He did. He genuinely did. But then, there was a small voice at the back of his head fuelled by his insecurities, and the occasions on which he had been betrayed before and all the times he was hurt because he loved someone who didn’t feel the same…

And what if you were seeing someone else?

He didn’t want to ask, and make a scene and… and if he were to be honest with himself he didn’t want to ask because he was terrified at the idea of being right…

What would he do then? He was in love with you, in a way he had never felt in his entire life, in a way that made him think about you on the long run. The very long run. A way that made him wonder sometimes if perhaps you were the one…

What if he was wrong? What if he was falling so hard for someone who was playing with him? For someone who didn’t love him that way?

What if he lost you? What if you were betraying him?

It would break him. He knew it. It would break him in a way he had never been broken before.

For almost three weeks, he pondered the question and decided to brush the signs off, and to act as if everything was normal. He didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility that his doubts were true, he didn’t want to take the risk to be right.

But this evening, he couldn’t take any more of this. You were cuddling on the sofa, watching a movie together, and having a wonderful evening. Some nice food, nestled in your comfortable couch and holding each other tight, and commenting on the movie you were watching, and stealing an awful lot of kisses. It was pretty perfect, really… until your phone buzzed; and before Ben could react, you had jumped to your feet, grabbed your phone and hurried out of the room.

Ben remained motionless for a moment. Still sitting on the sofa, the film playing but now forgotten. He checked the clock. It was almost midnight.

Who on Earth could call you at midnight on a Wednesday night?

He kept on staring at the doorway where you had disappeared, he heard you when you closed the door of your shared bedroom.

You didn’t want him to hear the conversation… at midnight?

He could feel his heart speeding up, reaching a pounding rhythm, and his throat tightened. Out of fear. Out of pain. But also out of anger.

He didn’t really think when he got up and followed you, when he slammed the door open, making you jump.

You turned to him with wide eyes, and he hated the look of panic in your eyes.

“Err… I will call you back in a sec, hang on.”

You ended the call, frowning now. Ben wasn’t particularly good at hiding that he was angry, but he didn’t care.

Because it hurt. It hurt not to know, and it hurt to ask this question, and it hurt to even think about this but… he needed to know. He couldn’t go on like this, ignoring what was obviously you hiding something from him. Or rather, someone…

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice colder than he meant for it to be, but he couldn’t help it.

You cleared your throat.

“A friend.”

“Who?”

“A friend.”

“I heard you the first time, I’m asking who was on the phone with you at fucking midnight.”

He closed his eyes tightly. His voice was shaking with anger, and he regretted cursing, because… because he wasn’t angry, not really. He was afraid more than anything else, but he couldn’t show that. It would have made him too vulnerable.

Instead, his voice was deadly cold, and you frowned at the sound.

“Just… no one important.”

“Stop… just answer the question.”

“I…”

But you didn’t say anything. You seemed to be thinking at full speed. To tell a lie?

He couldn’t take this anymore. He crossed his arms before his chest, looked down at the ground before looking up at you again. His voice was shaky when he spoke, but it was still unbearably cold.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

Your eyes grew round at that. You seemed completely panicked, taken-aback too.

He didn’t know how to read through your reaction. What did it mean?

“No, of course not!” you vehemently shook your head.

“Who was on the phone with you then?”

“I… It’s a secret. I can’t tell you. But I promise I’m not seeing anyone else it’s just…”

But you fell silent again.

“A secret? What kind of secret? Since when do we have secrets for each other?”

He had raised his voice now, and you hated it. He could hear in your tone that you were trying to calm him down, but it didn’t work. He was too scared for that, too confused.

“No, it’s nothing serious just… trust me on this, okay?”

“Trust you? Why should I?”

“Don’t say that…”

“You’ve been acting up for weeks now! You leave the room when you answer a call, you spend a lot of time on your phone, you come home late at night… what is going on? Is there someone else? Are you cheating on me?”

“Of course not! Ben, I love you, I would never do that.”

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on because right now… I don’t know. I don’t know anymore…”

He shrugged, trying to refrain the tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes. And he tried to hide them, but when he saw your lips part, and your eyes glimmer with withheld tears, he knew he had failed.

His throat tightened, unbearably so. And he hated it, and he was angry now, at you and at himself, because he couldn’t hide the fact that he was hurting and was absolutely terrified.

Because damn… he loved you with all his heart… You couldn’t simply throw it away.

“Ben… I’m not cheating on you. Of course, I’m not. I promise.”

You walked closer to him, and he hated the fact that he didn’t stop you. That he couldn’t step back. That his body couldn’t walk away from you, and keep its distance. And he hated the way he leaned into your touch when you held his cheek in your palm, your touch tender, loving…

“I’m not cheating on you. I was on the phone with your mom.”

He frowned hard at that.

“What?”

“I was on the phone with your mom.”

“My mom? Why? And why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

You heaved a sigh.

“I’m planning something for you with her, and you can’t know what it is because it’s a surprise.”

You unlocked your phone, and showed him the list of your previous calls.

They were all coming from his mother, his father, his brother, or your own family…

And there were, indeed, a lot of calls from his family.

But a surprise? Why would you prepare a surp…?

His birthday was a month away.

“Oh.”

“I’m not cheating on you, Ben. I love you, baby.”

“Is it for my birthday?”

You heaved another sigh, but gave in.

“Yes, it is for your birthday.”

His worried expression turned into a smile, and slowly, he let his arms fall back to his sides.

“You’re not cheating on me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re planning a surprise.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m sorry… I just… You weren’t acting the way you usually do and… you were hiding something from me and I just…”

You rushed into his arms, and he held you tight.

“It’s alright. I’m the one who’s sorry,” you answered against his chest. “I wasn’t very good at hiding the whole thing. But with the timezones, it’s pretty hard to get a hang on your family when you’re not around. But there’s nothing weird going on, please, don’t be mad…”

It was Ben’s time to heave a sigh. A painful one. He shouldn’t have doubted you, he felt stupid. But then again, he reckoned that the signs were playing against you on this one.

“I’m not mad, I was just… I was afraid you didn’t love me anymore.”

You looked up at him, shaking your head.

“Ben, I love you. So much. There’s no need for you to worry about that, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When you leaned up for a kiss, he bent to meet you halfway. He couldn’t help it. He was simply too relieved to think about anything but you. He wasn’t even curious about this surprise of yours, he was just happy that you were still his, and that he was still yours.

“You can call your mom if you want to check with her that I’m not lying,” you added after your lips parted from his, but he shook his head.

“You’ve showed me your phone. I can’t not believe you.”

“Good. But I’m not telling you what your surprise is! Tricia would have my head.”

He laughed at that, and it felt so good to hear the clear sound cutting through the tension that filled the room.

“My mother is the sweetest person on earth, she would definitely not have your head.”

“Perhaps not. But she would take away my special status.”

“Your special status?”

You grinned up at him.

“She said I’m her favourite girlfriend you’ve ever had.”

Ben exploded with laughter, but tightened his hold on you all the same.

“Oh, did she now?”

“She did! I’m her favourite! I have her blessing!”

“Actually… I am not surprised in the slightest.”

“Really?”

“I love you. Like… more than anything, really. So… no, I’m not surprised. My mom must have noticed it, that’s all.”

You pulled him down for a fervent kiss, before pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

“Can we go back to watching the end of the movie and then go to bed?”

You nodded, but took your phone again.

“Just texting your mom that I’ll call her later.”

“What are you two planning… that sounds like trouble!”

But you shot him a bright grin.

“You’ll see!”

Ben woke up to the sound of your voice whispering something into his ear. Sweet things, after a moment, he could identify the words you spoke. He smiled, despite his fatigue and his longing for a few more minutes of rest.

“Happy birthday, honey!” you chimed, making his smile widen.

He blinked his eyes open, moving to face you. You gave him an awful lot of kisses all over his face, which made him giggle and blush in an adorable way.

“Thank you, love,” he answered, voice hoarse from sleep.

“I know it’s still early, but you need to get up and get ready.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“So early?”

“Yep! Come on! I’ll prepare breakfast while you get ready.”

You dropped one last kiss on his chest, before getting up. He finally noticed that you were already dressed and seemed to have taken a shower. He couldn’t refrain a groan as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

“It’d better be a good surprise you and my mom have prepared!”

“Oh, it is!”

“Did she send anything from England?”

“I’m not answering that!”

You chuckled, walking out of the room and heading for the kitchen, as promised.

Ben kept on wondering what you had planned as he got ready for the day, but even after joining you in the kitchen, he couldn’t get any information from you.

“I know she sent something from home,” Ben said, taking a bite of his pancake. “The question is: what is it?”

“Hmm… you’ll see what it is in… thirty minutes,” you answered after checking the time on your phone.

“Really?”

You nodded, but hid your phone as you got a text.

“What is it? Is it for my birthday?”

You wiggled your eyebrow.

“The package will arrive on time.”

He grinned.

“I can’t wait to see what it is… I feel like a five-year old waiting on Christmas morning.”

You laughed at that, but didn’t reveal any detail while you finished your meal and cleaned up the table. And Ben was now pacing.

“Maybe she sent food… that would be nice. Or… what could she send from England that we don’t have here? A sense of humour?”

“Very funny,” you deadpanned, making him laugh.

But he didn’t have to wait for too long, because someone rang at the door.

“You can go and open the door to get your package,” you told him, and he heard you laughing at him as he sprinted through the flat, but he couldn’t have cared less.

Nothing could have prepared him for his surprise though…

He opened the door, and remained frozen as his parents and his brother threw some confetti at him.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“Mom? Dad? Jack? What… what are you doing here?”

You had walked behind him by then, and nudged him gently.

“Told you that you would love your surprise!”

He finally realized what was happening, his brain going back to work, and he rushed forward to hug his family.

“But… how long are you staying?”

“A couple of weeks,” Thomas answered, and Ben finally noticed the luggage behind them.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Ben grinned, hugging his brother.

You exchanged a wink with Tricia, while Thomas was fondly chuckling at his son and moving to give you a hug too.

“Well, luckily Y/N was here to help us plan out everything. Although, she told us that it got her into some trouble.”

Ben blushed fiercely at that, but you merely laughed.

“Yes, well… she was acting very suspiciously.”

You all laughed, entering your home at last. Ben held you back to hold you in a tight embrace.

“Thank you. That’s the best surprise you could have planned for my birthday. But next time, try to actually hide that you’re planning something, okay? Because you displayed some terrible acting skills…”

“Hey, you’re the actor here, not me!”

“Well, lucky for the cinema industry…”

You pinched his arm in retribution, making him laugh.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

He held you a little tighter as he thanked you, breathing in deeply your perfume, enjoying the way the warmth of your body was now spreading through his.

Indeed, he had a very happy birthday, mainly thanks to you…

*****************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @sergeantbuckybarnes @wolfmoonmusic

[synnthamonsugar]

in the spirit of saturnalia: I ask for a coffee shop au fic with savathun

Can I get an art grant to develop this into a full series? Do you want ME to write/draw something outside my usual body of work? Inquire here!

A small crowd gathered near the rear of the cafe, chattering raucously around candlelit tables, framed by floodlights trained on the small stage at the back. Another open mic night at the Gaslight Cafe.

"Good turnout tonight," Lavinia Garcia Umr Tawil commented to the owner and senior barista, Savathûn. The middle-aged woman had long braids tied into a bun at the crown of her head, and a loud floral print shirt peeking from beneath a mint-green apron emblazoned with the logo of the shop. A stylized moth framed by an old-fashioned lantern.

"We'll see how long it lasts," she replied with a note of exasperated humor.

Lavinia tilted her head. Leaned across the coffee-bar so she didn't have to shout above the ambient noise. "Is the lineup that . . . bad?" 

"My nieces are the opening act," Savathûn commented, gesturing at the stage. Two identical women, perhaps a bit younger than Lavinia, dressed in what she could only describe as avant-garde victorian-goth-chic, long red gowns and pyramidal fascinators atop their heads, fiddled with an electric guitar and drum set respectively. The longer Lavinia looked, the more she could make out a familial resemblance to Savathûn, though there was something sharper in their features. 

Ada, in her role as M.C., took to the front of the stage. "Please give a warm welcome to our first performance, the Death Singers."

"Oh — that's, uh, promising? Your family has such accomplished musicians."

"They are talented girls but their style is —'' the first drumbeats started, shortly accompanied by a crunchy, guttural lick from the guitar, "—experimental." The lead leaned in close and belted out a shrieky vocal, loud enough to peak the mic. Both Savathûn and Lavinia reflexively flinched at the sound.  "Highly so."

The ensuing piece of music could be generously characterized as "harsh" and "atonal", less politely as "unlistenable" and "headache-inducing". Ir Halak and Ir Anûk traded off vocals throughout the set, and Lavinia found them perfectly matched not only in appearance but also intolerability. 

When they finally reached the end of their performance, a hesitant, obligatory round of applause fizzled from the crowd — excluding the next performer, who arose to his feet clapping and cheering. The girls waved and smiled at him as they gathered their gear and exited stage. 

The attrition rate among the audience was impressively low, but Lavinia wondered if Toland would change that. The pallid older man was a regular guest, spending hours sitting at different tables, sometimes tapping away at his typewriter but mostly getting into Diogenian debates with other customers. Savathûn permitted him to stay because his coffee habit provided her a reliable source of income. They often wondered what he actually did and could find no other explanation than this. Context clues pointed at a well-to-do wife who supported his unemployment, but not the Cafe. 

"Our next guest needs no introduction. Give it up for Toland, The Shattered, who will share a piece of his poetry—?" Ada enunciated the word as more as a question than statement, "— with us."

Lavinia was just glad he wasn't singing tonight. His timbre was almost as jarring as the twins'. 

"HUSH THE MOON. HUSH THE NIGHT. HUSH THE DARKNESS . . . HUSH, THE LIGHT . . ." If nothing else, she was impressed by the way he seemed to be able to speak in small-caps. He paced about the stage like a caged dog, delivering a performance that might've been pretentious if it wasn't utterly sincere. Some watched in transfixed or baffled silence, while others got up to refill their drinks at the bar. 

As more applause rippled through the crowd, and others gathered their things to leave, Ada approached the mic. "I didn't think anyone could find a rhyme for 'ouroboros', but you have a way with words. 

"Our next presenter is a sleight-of-hand magician—"

"That's 'illusionist', ma'am," the man waiting at stage-right drawled. He was decked out in a sequined suit of teal and green with a prominent snake motif, cowboy hat in hand.

" — Illusionist from the Tower Annex. Let's all welcome Eli—"

He shook his head.

"Wu Ming?"

"It's Germaine now. Legal reasons."

"Ah — well, let's all welcome Germaine, and his thrilling coin gambit—"

"Okay I'm out," Lavinia finally folded, gathering up her purse and books in one hand, and coffee in the other. "G'night Sav."

"Truly, you live up to your title," Savathûn replied, poking at her 'Lucky' nickname. "Goodnight Lavinia."

[eraserisms]

1, 6, 9, 30!

A MEME IS HERE! These questions were sent in by the awesome @adam--bomb

1. What position does your character sleep in? ( i.e; stomach, side, back, etc. ) Describe why they do this — optional.

Shota will really sleep in any place that is mildly comfortable, whether its in a chair, couch or in his sleeping bag or even a hardwood floor (depending on how he sleeps, it helps with any pains he has in his back and other times, it makes it feel worse). Aizawa has managed to even sleep while standing up. In the last case, he tends to be leaning on something to do so, but he has done it before. It's inevitable that Shota will toss and turn in his sleep but whenever he lays down initially, he usually makes sure that he is in a corner so he can see any doors or windows. It's just something that he does out of habit. If not confined to a sleeping bag, he can be found with his legs sprawled out and all over the place.

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?

Ohhh this is a good question. I have been thinking about this for a long time since I have been diving into music that I used to listen to. But, I think that it would really depend on what stage of his life he is in. I know I can list tons of My Chemical Romance songs that would suit him. However, out of all the tunes I've been listening to lately, "Pain" by Three Days Grace sticks out to me as a song that fits him.

9. Does your character dream or are their nights filled with an empty blackness? Describe a dream they’ve had or a night they couldn’t sleep and what they did to preoccupy their time.

This also depends on circumstances. In times that he is bone dead tired, his nights can sometimes be peaceful and dreamless. Sleep can serve as a nice escape from the things going on around him. But other times, other times Shota finds himself waking up in a cold sweat, clawing at his neck in terror and searching for a scarf that just isn't there. When he has PTSD episodes like this, he never really calls them for what they are. Instead, they are coded and given the title of 'hero dreams'. Usually these dreams entail people that Shota was just not able to save, and that includes Oboro. In reality, there have been all sorts of ways that Shota has lost people he had intended to save, but the dream is reoccurring and is almost always the same. He usually is on top of a tall building. Being vertical, whether on top of a building, or in the air, it's something that Shota is most familiar with. A place that Shota would even claim as part of his territory. While he stands on the roof, a civilian wearing the face of an unsavable is dangling from his capture weapon. There is a tear in his cloth. His mind and arms are too afraid to pull the scarf upwards in fear that it will rip from the weight. He can't will his legs to move either. Frozen. There is no way he can dive down after them. When he tries to lower these people back down to the pavement instead, the binding cloth snaps anyway and they plummet to their death. Other times when he tries to sink them to safety, his scarf just isn't long enough for them to reach the street and they're still several stories above the ground. But, in either of these dreams, the result is always the same— the cloth breaks and there is no one there to catch them. When he has nights like that, those are the rare instances that Shota can't ease himself back to sleep. He will usually try to drink some chamomile tea and pick up a book to read until he starts to feel easy again. But it doesn't work every time and some nights are worse than others.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

This one is an easy one. Shota would probably pick something like rice or noodles. More likely, he'd pick rice. They both are exceptionally versatile and even if he is eating one thing, he would never get bored. Fried Rice (Yakimeshi). Ochazuke. Spanish Rice. Omurice. Jambalaya. & the list goes on. If this question is implying that Shota can only eat plain rice, Shota would argue that he still is technically eating one thing. He is his mother's child after all.

[kyndaris]

Re: Connect

Ever since the disaster that was COVID-19, I've slowly begun to renew my relationships with a lot of people from the past. Most have been simple catch-up dinners/ lunches here and there. We talk about lives since we last saw each other and see where the other is at on this journey called life. After all, when you finish university and move into the workforce, life just becomes...well...busy. And you begin to lose touch. No longer is it so easy to arrange a quick catch-up during the week or on weekends. Especially if you live in a city as big as Sydney.

But since I've lived in this fair city since birth, it should also come as no surprise that I've also met a colourful cast of individuals across the many stages of my life. Be they old work colleagues, friends from high school, or heck, even the odd acquaintance!

If you are a regular reader of this here blog, you'll know I've talked about some of the reunions in the last two or so years. But I have to say, the start of 2024 was a rush of old familiar faces I didn't quite expect.

Story time!

Now, as you, dear reader, know, I've always expressed an interest in finding a group to play a tabletop role-playing game with. Of course, I didn't expect that to come via my favourite chinchilla. This old uni friend of mine, whom I entertain with many a statement of their grisly demise (it's a complicated relationship. Suffice it to say, they have consented to me using analogies from the TV show You and Tess Gerritsen's Rizzoli and Isles series to conjure up fanciful imagery. None of which actually eventuates. It's a running joke. Chinchilla is perfectly safe in my hands), reached out to me in November 2023. It was the first time in years I'd received a message from them despite constantly wishing them a 'Happy Birthday.'

I'm sure, dear reader, you can imagine my surprise.

Thankfully, we easily fell back into old habits. As if the distance of time had barely impeded our friendship.

As we ate sushi together, chinchilla provided me with updates on their life. From their marriage to subsequent divorce, and then to an ADHD diagnosis. They also told me of their harrowing mental health journey in the decade or so since we last met, and how they emerged from it.

In between our more serious chats, I regaled my dear sweet chinchilla with my nerdy exploits and my failed attempts at trying to play D&D. It was then that chinchilla advised they still had some sway with their circle of friends back in high school and could pull some strings to potentially get me an audience to show off my tabletop role-playing chops.

I didn't hear back from chinchilla until sometime in December. And as the clock ticked in 2024, I finally mustered up the courage to message one of the core members: a friend I used to know back in primary school. In fact, he's actually the inspiration for a short story I wrote on nostalgia. Alas, after building things up in my head, reality, unfortunately, did not love up to my lofty expectations.

Over the years, we had changed far too much. And it was disappointing to see how much he wanted to forget the person he had been in those formative years. True, he still loved anime but he was also a respected doctor/ radiologist. No longer did he have set of UNO cards readily on hand to play a game or five. High school and the passage of time had stripped away most of what I remembered of him.

Still, he was my gateway to a one-off game of Every Day Heroes, with many a person I knew. None of which I was super familiar with but I, at least, could hold some semblance of a conversation with. While I would have liked to continue playing with them, the fact they held their sessions on a weekday, with many of them playing late into the night, the house being on the opposite side of Sydney to my own, and my growing responsibilities when it came to my grandma, I couldn't quite justify making this a weekly occurrence.

Besides, I was also soon to be jetting off to Japan and South Korea for a long awaited holiday (I say the week before my trip. Although, when this post comes out, I will have returned).

Still, I managed to bumble my way through what would turn out to be a very chaotic group of players.

But they were not the only ones I managed to reconnect with in the first of the year. Oh no.

Even as I was plugging away at Octopath Traveler 2, I was reviewing possible future love interests on Hinge (I know, poor phrasing. But as we all know, love's just a game) and stumbled upon the profile of a girl I'd befriended back in my high school days despite the fact they were in the grade below mine. Immediately, I sent her a rose and messaged them on Facebook (because, you know, Millennial. I'll use another social media app over my dying body!)

Because we already knew each other, I wasn't as hesitant to meet up. Nor was there much need for numerous texts to feel out the other person's interest. So, we quickly arranged for a meet-up and off we trotted to an Italian restaurant in Darling Harbour. There, we caught up on life, including what we both did for work (she's in academic research, which for all intents and purposes is NOT a real job. A real job is a 9 to 5 office job where we have NO clue what we're doing). Then, of course, the conversation turned towards our love lives. After all, we were both on Hinge. As such, I shared some of my dating experiences and so did she. And as we chatted about our friendship circles, she was keen to have me meet up with another old friend as she found us entirely too similar.

As the calendar moved from January to February, I then caught up with another face from my past. For ease of reference, and to cut down on all the ambiguous pronoun usage, I'll call them Sorrengail (because they hate Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros with a passion. And well, the only way I can show affection is through light teasing). Now, Sorrengail and I met on the school bus back in ye olden days of high school and I distinctly remember she was intrigued by me playing Apollo Justice. Somehow, it kicked off a friendship between like-minded individuals and it would later spur her on to become a senior graphic designer for a small game studio right at the heart of Sydney.

Sorrengail and I arranged to meet up for some branch on a grey and brooding Saturday. While we didn't have a cafe in mind, we managed to find one in close proximity to the train station. As we ate our food, we discussed our lives up to that point - commiserating over not being able to keep up with the ever evolving lexicon Gen Z had adopted, being ace, and well being curmudgeon wordsmiths. A conversation with us is like cracking open a thesaurus midway through as we toss out all the words we've picked up from reading far too many novels (something that was pointed out to me by a manager when I used the phrase ' lickety-split.').

Of course, I was also quick to correct Sorrengail on trying to bond with her Gen Z colleagues by informing them that Skibidi Toilet was NOT Gen Z but rather a viral phenomenon of Gen Alpha (thanks Matthew Patrick. I'll certainly miss you dishing out all the theories on your channels).

And she later told me how she was learning to become a better team leader at her workplace. But also wanted to be seen as approachable (even as she dominated them on the Super Smash field).

After we had finished off brunch, Sorrengail and I headed to the heart of the city. We continued to chat about our lives, and I shared with her a link to my stories (she's actually managed to read most of them although has given me the feedback that most of my short stories might be a little niche in their themes and topics), even as we perused Kinokuniya. Neither of us, of course, bought anything though Sorrengail was tempted on several occasions.

As our little catch-up came to an end, Sorrengail and I promised to keep in touch. I even snapped a photo of her Switch friend code so I could add it when I got home.

So ended my very busy first two months of 2024 and their host of catch-ups with friends, new and old. As with all things, it takes time to foster these relationships. But I certainly do find them engaging.

And, if I may be frank, Sorrengail has much more in common with me than the ex-friend ever did. And more of a worldly understanding that I can get behind. They aren't terrified to try something new and they aren't content with living their life forever in the same old trappings.

Yes. I know it's a little harsh but it's difficult to converse with someone who spends their entire time on the internet, focused solely on the ethereal you-I conceit of sociology except they've mangled it all in Jungian philosophy without truly understanding how it applies to the wider world.

Anyways, I'll stop griping. After all, reconnecting with old friends should be a celebration. One of new beginnings! The problem, of course, will be in maintaining these relationships. These are two way streets. And the best way to deepen these friendships is to keep wearing in the groove!

They'll all fall for my Kyndaris charm sooner or later!

[divinekangaroo]

I’m loving your new fic w the pov being from the Doctor’s— to see Tommy’s life from the outside. You mentioned darling Lizzie quite often, and to see her and Ada in parallel pushing Tommy to therapy or whatnot because they are the only two with hope left in him :

“‘My sister,’ Shelby said. ‘And my wife. They encouraged it. I never told them much. The people who love us have a habit of laying on labels that are unwanted and often not true.’”

Him acknowledging Lizzie’s love for him (and Ada’s) i would imagine is a big turning point— however then he mentions that his wife needs to have clothes and jewels worth twice as much as the ones the women wear who step into his foyer. Which makes me think of her more as property, arm candy. But then I see this;

“…and beneath that dress she wore her old boots, like a Cossack on the run.’”

And i think of lizzie and her humble roots and i love her lol. And i think that grounds her to a post with tommy as well.

“I sometimes fuck my wife. I once fucked other women, but I don't fuck other women no more.”

The instance of him saying “no more” twice in the fic is so important to his character.. i feel like he tries to be so posh to a point and this is so not. But on the quote itself, what do you believe was his reasoning behind this, and when did he stop fucking other women? Does he know make love to his wife in his head, or is lizzie to fed up with him to even want to fuck? Or is she in this last stage of trying so hard to “fix” their relationship that it might even feel like making love to him?

Thank you for your feedback! I'm so glad all the little details are being enjoyed and love hearing how they're interpreted.

The language structure Tommy uses in the show absolutely fascinates me as to what it means to his state of mind. I don't know if it's the scriptwriters or CM's layer, but the switching from Tommy's almost-proper English into deep working class grammatical structures, and then whatever the hell was going on in S6 which was almost archaic -- I try so hard to embed that into the writing. The "no more" was from his final conversation in Michael in S6 and it's stuck with me. I use it with very specific intent. So am very pleased this comes across.

Onto the question when did he stop fucking other women?

My rambling headcanon mixed with aspects of canon:

He stopped hiring prostitutes in S4, after his Christmas Eve fail!prostitute (he didn't even take his reading glasses off; he looked at that woman partially naked and shook his head and paid her to leave, and she was all, dude I might even do you for free Xmas special, and he nearly had a traumatic flashback to Lizzie and sent her off and went back to his book).

During the rest of S4 getting prostitutes was noted as difficult (needed vetting to avoid an italian assassin) so I imagine he didn't bother. But meanwhile, he was reaching out (Jessie, Lizzie, May) for some kind of meaningful connection.

End of S4, all the deferred trauma of Grace's death that he couldn't acknowledge because he had to get through S3 and then S4, catches up to him. And this is crushingly compounded by how he never dealt with the war trauma in the first place. And his brother's death. So now he has combined childhood, war, brother and wife trauma.

Post S4 and before S5 is about 4 years after marrying Lizzie. Here I imagine monogomy by default - he was too busy with trauma repression and learning how to be an MP and drinking and opium addiction and actually having a wife ready and available to seek out other women. But also, opium kills libido (desire) and erections (actual physical capability), so even with a wife ready and available they probably had mostly crappy sex. It would have started ok, warm and desperate, as I do think marrying Lizzie was him partly using her to try to address the trauma, and declined over time as his addictions and unstable behaviour increased. Imagine, Tommy swinging between a week of crazy all-night drunken marathons and then weeks where he initiates nothing because he can't even get hard, and Lizzie's quietly burning up next to him, assuming he must be spending it on other women because all that lust doesn't just...go away, right?

I also think he never thinks 'i am monogamous now because I'm married' because 1) he feels he has the right to be non-monogamous and 2) he's confident he'll break monogamy at some point, as his father did, as Arthur did, as John does without care. But, he sort of doesn't want to, because it's just another 'fated to bad things' / 'fated to be bad' sensibility; he won't think 'I am monogamous' because it'll hurt him when he breaks yet another promise, but he behaves monogamously because it's no extra skin off his back to do so, if that makes any sense?

S5 starts, and there he is, monogamous by default or laziness for four years after marriage, while his relationship with Lizzie is deteriorating for other reasons to the point of divorce. He then reconnects with Jessie; he looked like he was trying to work himself up to having sex and got so plastered, similar to how drunk he was with Tatiana. Then he self-sabotaged any sex: deliberately offending Jessie in so many ways, ending with his (hilarious) lurching/looming across the table proposition, and she leaves in disgust. And he went back home to Lizzie and they had that super interesting 'here are my conditions where I will accept your infidelity' / 'i own you but will also let you into my head (give you intimacy) sometimes' scene. I picture him telling Lizzie in anger he was going out that night to fuck Jessie, and when he came home early, Lizzie realised he didn't, therefore offered herself/her conditions for her staying with him.

Then there is S6 which has the S5 trauma load added on: Polly's death, his fear of fascist war, and his failure with Mosley. The failure with Mosley is also a sexualised kind of thing (literally in my AU, but canonically) with how Mosley has attacked Tommy's wife, Tommy's symbols of power and Tommy's territories, making Tommy feel impotent. So it looks like Tommy's honoured his deal to 'let Lizzie in sometimes' because he has a much more intimate relationship with Lizzie in S6, but it's still broken, this broken-carer relationship. He is pouring so much energy into restraining his impulses and addictions, I cannot imagine a very good sex life. Immediately post his detox, I imagine he goes through a period of feeling like he's got to do better, and being better/more intimate with Lizzie is part of this, but I imagine across four years it declines downwards until we reach that point in the season where Lizzie feels like having sex is a box he's ticking off on a list.

During those S6 years, I shift into the headcanon which is: he has Lizzie's conditions where infidelity is acceptable, and yet still doesn't indulge because he's tired from too much self restraint, because maybe abiding by Lizzie's conditions might not hurt her but breaking his marriage vows (behaving like this father) would hurt him, and so. I frequently have him think about fucking other women, including 'fuck this, I'm going to a hotel and getting that escort', because he also has that mentality that it's his absolute right to do that, but just not doing it and not thinking too hard about why he's not.

He does have the prostitute he has sex with in America in S6, but I'm contemplating MAYBE writing what I think happens there, so will pause that thought. It's definitely weighted by what I think was at least four months of a trade mission. So maybe once or twice in America. (In my fic, he's yet to leave for America so he can say he's not fucked other women.)

So, it's always fucking in his head, not making love, but I don't feel like this is derogatory or bad for Lizzie, because in my head she also thinks of it as fucking. I don't think either of them with their pasts put any weight in 'making love'. But I think over time there is an ease to it between them, and sometimes sex is very comforting or very intense, in a way that having someone long term can be; an ability to be more intimate and exposed, to do things like talk about sex (liked that, didn't like that).

I think I remember writing Lizzie thinking most of their sex was like having a mutual wank except with bodies, and that to me is their main married couple mode. Which, alas, is not super interesting to write, which is why I'll write the all-night marathon instead...

[konstantintreplev]

8, 20 and 28 for the morse man himself?

thanks! and oh god these are. Hard

8. Your favorite outfit of them

okay, for young morse i'm rather partial to his nice blue coat ensemble from s9

his tie is so good! the coat is amazing! ensemble on point!

for uh. IM morse tho i'm picking one of the sluttier options which i kept cackling at because like. morse. your tits are out good for you.

20. A weird headcanon

morse, no matter what age, has definitely had days where he looked up and realized at around 8 or 10 at night that all he's had in his stomach all day is some mixture of coffee, tea and some kind of liquor (depending on what stage of alcoholic morse we're dealing with). max primarily started describing stomach contents as a check-in on whether morse had actually eaten something of substance that day. (is this a headcanon or actually canon? i don't know. i don't think morse has disordered eating habits, per se, i just think he gets so focused on the thrill of a case that he uh... forgets that nourishment beyond caffeine and the bottle can be helpful sometimes... this also happens on days with particularly challenging crossword puzzles)

(i do have what has to be just a headcanon that, of the many, many people he's slept with [e morse has been dead for over 20 slutty, slutty years], only monica and max really pick up on this; max reminds him via stomach contents, while monica would pointedly stock his icebox -- thursday himself would starve if it wasn't for win, same goes for robbie with val, and those are just the big two for me)

28. The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

hoo boy. WHERE DOES ONE BEGIN. i have to say. his utterly smug douchebaggery in the last five minutes of endeavour 701, where he just shit-eating grins at thursday and refuses a drink with him, and is kind of demeaning in general... like. it's hot but also. morse you gotta work with the guy.

as far as IM goes... morse hasn't reached the Levels of Unnecessary that his younger self frequently did. i'm sure he'll get to a point but most of the unnecessary things he does are not malicious in the slightest they're just... pathetic? that's a form of growth, i think! (it should be noted that both eras of morse are completely my blorbos, and i see the beautiful progression between them... but i might rather hang out with older morse at this point.) (although watching young morse is kind of like a dog staring at its own reflection, perplexed.)

thanks!!

[peckforlovingheck]

Random urge to write so uh yeah

Also I want to write on here more often

Concept of an au I guess

Odette felt the cold rain drip down on the window. She leaned against it, embracing its coldness. Cody looked over at her. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. “Eh. Nothing important.” Odette said, adjusting the flowercrown and dusting off her dress’s skirt. She knew she should have returned the outfit, but she never found the time. Apparently same to Cody, as he still wore his stage outfit.

“Oh. Oh lord.. What’ll Alex say?” Cody fretted. “To Hell with what Alex says or thinks. He knows we do these shows for money, so why should it bother him..?” Odette said quickly. “I thought you said earlier that his opinion is one you respect-“ Cody stated.

”Well I respect him enough to ignore him.” Odette frowned, her face feeling suddenly warm, though she still had her face against the cold window of the bus. “Ah. Yeah. Sure.” Cody said, stifled laughter.

they eventually reach their stop and walk into the house. “Y’know. It’s late.” A voice said as the two hung up their coats. “It was an extra long show, alright?” Odette huffed. “The crowd was overly excited.” Cody reasoned. “Still. I want to make sure you guys are safe and it worries me when you are gone for that long.” The person, stepping into the light and revealing to be Alex, said.

“Shut up. We know it’s because you can’t cook. And because you don’t have anyone else with you.” Odette rambled. “Partially.” Alex shrugged. “Well.. we have some spare food from the pre-show.” Cody smiled.

The three dined and did the nightly chores of washing dishes and cleaning up. “By the way, what’s with the getups?” Alex asked. “Thought they’d make you return them or something.”

“I guess not.” Cody said. “Very nice though.” Alex notes. “You both look very dashing in those.” He commented. A blur of swearing and high pitch noises came out of Odette’s mouth. “Aw. Thanks.” Cody said, smiling.

Alex giggled slightly at Odette’s fluster. “SHUT UP.” Odette shouted, her face becoming a brighter shade of red. She would then hand him a bag. Alex raised an eyebrow. “It’s some of the earnings, by the way.” Odette explained. “Consider it our rent.” Cody said, “And several tokens of Odette’s pickpocketing.”

Alex have an awkward smile. “Thank you, but stop stealing.” “Don’t tell me what to do.” Odette shot back out of pure instinct. They’ve had that kind of exchange many times before, to the point where it’s a habit.

Odette then walked off. “We should get out of these so we can return them tomorrow.” She suggested. “Maybe sometime we’ll take you to one of the shows.” Cody offered. “That’s sweet, since the last theater performance I saw was back in Australia.. and I’d rather leave that behind. But yes, I’d love to go.” Alex agreed.

((Lemme know if you want more))

[persephoneacts]

Persephone loved Charlie in ways she often struggled to quantify. Her best friend had been such a staple in her life for so long that she couldn’t — and didn’t want to — even begin to imagine her life without him. The fact that they’d found one another during the darkest period of Sephy’s life should’ve been a sure fire sign that he would soon become a distant memory, an acquaintance left behind on her road to recovery. The reality was that Sephy’s path to sobriety wasn’t a traditional one, her sponsor frowning on the particular company she kept. Charlie was the only person that had remained from that part of her life, but she wouldn’t dream of distancing herself no matter how it impacted her.

Between his reliance on drugs and alcohol, as well as his passion for music, Persephone found herself tucked away in the corners of night clubs, skin itching as people threw back shots on every side of her. Bathrooms weren’t a safe space either, with girls in their early twenties doing lines of coke off the edge of the sinks, dirty needles clattering to the floor of occupied stalls. Temptation lived in every corner of a bar or a club, with even Maggie going so far as to ask her: Does weed really count, though? This had been during the earlier days of their friendship, the other girl had at least gained some small semblance of self-awareness in the time since. Seph had found herself accompanying Maggie, Charlie, Ripley — and sometimes even Jax! — to seedy bars and clubs and house parties that had trouble written all over them, or far more sophisticated events that oftentimes proposed even higher risks.

Today was different, though, and she felt relieved. She’d never tell Charlie just how difficult it was attending his sets, and now that he and Ripley appeared to have hit it off — if you could even call it that — she didn’t see the point in being some Debby Downer when she could just suck it up and support her friends. But with Summer in full swing, Charlie had been chomping at the bit last week to tell her about the last-minute gig he’d managed to book. Far from the familiarity of his usual backdrop, Charlie’s set today was taking place on a small stage situated in the middle of Central Park. The sun was shining down on what appeared to be an EDM festival — Seph wouldn’t pretend to have even the faintest clue — and her best friend had been afforded the honour of headlining one of their smaller stages.

He currently had a crowd of about 150 people — huge by Sephy’s standards! — and the smile he was currently sporting was enough to heal Persephone of any ailments or misgivings she might have had about the day. Contrary to the way she felt about her older cousin, Persephone wasn’t heartless, and it hadn’t gone amiss to her just what yesterday had been. She missed Jules every day, and she knew how much Billy must be hurting today. The urge to pick up the phone or simply stop by his apartment had been difficult to turn away from, an ache building in her chest as she’d fought with herself to not go one step further and lose herself to the bottle instead.

Sufficed to day, Charlie’s set was proving to be a much needed distraction, her cheeks warm as she beamed from the side of the stage as he finished up his set, lightning on his feet as he bounced around with unbridled glee, blowing kisses to the crowd as he waved himself off. Watching Charlie perform was like being bathed in a warm glow, his presence as welcoming as the perfect hug. Addictions and bad habits aside, Charlie was her sanctuary.

“Oh my God, oh my God, can I get your autograph?” Persephone gushed, laughter peeling from her lips as he finally came within reaching distance.

Without hesitation, Persephone launched herself into his arms, her own wrapping snug around his neck, legs coming to circle his waist. She trusted Charlie implicitly and knew he’d catch her as she smothered his cheeks and forehead in kisses.

“You totally rocked that, babe! Holy shit! You should totally check out how many new instagram followers you have. I handed out business cards,” she informed him, feeling smug as she released her hold on him, slipping back down onto the cushy grass beneath their feet. “I’m a real ass Business Bitch.”

[fraink5-writes]

In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 13

Chapter 13--how unlucky! But all things considered, Venti is pretty lucky here.

Biggest shout-out to @leio13, my editor!

Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao’s secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao’s protector! But the reality is much more convoluted… What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The five days passed just about as uneventfully as Morax wanted. Xiao returned to the abandoned medical building, but it had already been cordoned off by the police. If Xiao was investigating in an official capacity, he could have leveraged the Adepti Agency’s connection to the police to gain access to the scene, but he was acting alone. Plus, given Ningguang’s potential connection to the crime, it would have been a huge risk. So he passed the days restlessly, dreading the fifth night.

When the time actually came, it went easier than expected. Dr. Baizhu somehow managed to get Venti into the clothes Xiao brought, but Venti was basically a zombie, so Xiao ended up carrying him back to the only place he could think of—his apartment. Xiao reluctantly placed the sleeping Venti onto his bed and resigned himself to his couch for one last night of peace.

The morning sun came too soon. Nevertheless, Xiao schlepped into his bedroom to find that Venti was already awake. His back turned to the wall, his cloudy blue irises and vacuous pupils were spellbound by oblivion. 

“Good morning, Venti,” Xiao whispered delicately.

Venti peered up at Xiao then lifted his head with a blatant grin. “Good morning, Xiao…” Somehow the stretched curls of his lips were all the more unbearable. 

“You know… You don’t have to smile all the time…”

“Of course I do! I’m Venti—the bard.”

“This isn’t a stage, so you don’t have to force it…”

“Surely, a smile is better than—”

“I already know what you’re really like.” Xiao interrupted. “You’re depressed with a severe drinking habit.” Something snapped. “And that alcohol problem almost killed you!”

Venti blinked several times as his grin slowly drooped. 

"Ah." Xiao's posture shrunk a little. "...Sorry… I should not have said that. …Actually, it's my fault what happened. They were asking about me, weren't they?" Xiao bowed his head. "I apologize."

Xiao didn't lift his head, and Venti, uncharacteristically, made no attempt to meet his eyes either. "Xiao… Why did you come find me?"

"I couldn't stand someone being abused because of me, so of course I went looking for you. And… Well, you saved me that time…"

Venti finally gazed at Xiao. His aqua eyes appeared to overflow with things to say, but his lips remained closed, only rising slightly at the ends.

"Um, you must be hungry." Without waiting for Venti's response, Xiao sprung to the door to fetch something edible. He returned with less haste, carrying a salad.

"Thanks," Venti mumbled. 

After ascertaining that Venti was awake and not starving, Xiao slipped away, but, throughout the day, Xiao would silently check on him. Usually, he was sleeping, but sometimes he was staring at the ceiling.

Around midnight, Xiao crept back into the room to check on Venti before turning off the light and retiring to his sofa. Venti was, unsurprisingly, asleep. However, when he turned to leave, he felt a small pull from the back of his shirt.

"Don't…" came a tiny whisper.

"I won't turn off the light then," Xiao conceded.

Still, the hand wouldn't let go.

Xiao sighed. Without turning, he reached back and peeled Venti's hand off his shirt. Then he sat on the floor, legs crossed. He folded his arms, resting them on his knees, and nested his head in between. For the rest of the night, he stayed like that, thinking mindlessly, just like Venti in the bed next-door. 

When the sun rose the next morning, Xiao quickly got up (although he couldn't remember when he fell asleep) and, after confirming that Venti was actually sleeping, snuck out of the room to prepare some food.

By the time Xiao returned, Venti had moved to sit by the window. He stared blankly at the city scenery even when Xiao left the food in front of him. 

As he did the day before, Xiao left Venti to himself, occasionally checking on him. Sometimes he would find Venti, still sitting upright in his chair, sleeping. On such instances, Xiao would carry him to the bed—only to find he had moved back the next time Xiao saw him. 

The next day proceeded the same way—a wordless back-and-forth between Xiao and Venti, the bed and the chair.

Before Xiao knew it, Monday—the day of his return to work—had arrived. He didn't particularly want to go back to work, but he was bound by his sense of duty. Making things even more complicated, there was a third factor: Venti. No matter what Xiao chose to do, he had no idea how Venti would react—if he even would react. 

As though he had heard Xiao's deliberation, Venti suddenly spoke, "Xiao."

Xiao nearly jumped. "What?!"

"Thanks for giving me some time to myself to think. Today, why don't we go out somewhere?"

Venti was… asking Xiao to go out with him…? Xiao probably should have said no right away, but he was too confused and overwhelmed. 

"I mean, you've been stuck in this apartment with me for the past few days," Venti took the opportunity to continue. "Surely I can't be the only one longing for fresh air?"

Xiao couldn't deny that leaving the drab scene of his apartment would do him some good. Even when he was alone, even when he was forcibly on vacation, he never confined himself to one place. Xiao nodded slowly. Was this the true strength of the one called "The Mole?" 

Xiao gave Venti another pair of clean clothes to wear while they were out since Venti didn't have any of his own. The two hitmen were roughly the same size, but, on Venti, Xiao's clothes looked very odd. Perhaps because they lacked Venti's usual theatric flare, or maybe because Venti lacked the smile he so often wore on his face. Venti's hair was also rather plain—Whatever. Xiao put those thoughts aside. It didn't matter how Venti looked so long as it was clean.

After stepping outside, the first thing Xiao did was take a deep breath of the circulating air. The breeze, although artificially created by passing cars, caressed Xiao's face. At that moment, he felt like he could better understand Venti's desire to take flight on gentle winds.

But Venti had shut out the wind. In fact, tripping over shallow breath after shallow breath, he was more likely to expel all the air from his body. With his hands clamped to his ears, his face stared at the ground, but his eyes boggled restlessly.

"...Venti…?"

"...L… o… ud…" Xiao was barely able to make out over the chatter of passersby.

"Want to go back inside?"

Venti shook his head vehemently.

"Then. We're going to get going." That was the only warning Xiao gave. "Follow me." He grabbed Venti's right hand from his ear and pulled him into a side street. Then, he continued to drag him through countless alleys and across the port. He finally stopped only when they were far enough to see the harbor's glittering expanse from where they stood. 

After catching his own breath, Xiao began to feel bad about the marathon he had just put Venti through. "Sorry," he mumbled. Venti removed his hand from Xiao's and plopped onto the grass, sprawling his limbs like a star. Then only his chest moved, up and down. Up and down. Up and down. "Ven…ti…?"

"Ahhh…" Venti sighed forcefully. "I could stay like this forever… Just give me a minute." After a liberal interpretation of a minute, he sat up. "This is such a gorgeous view of Liyue Harbor! I'm kind of surprised." He shot Xiao a sideways glance with a smirk.

"This is the best place to view the Lantern Rite in the winter." 

"I can imagine." Venti stared into the horizon. "'Twinkling, man-made stars, across the sky they roam,/ Looking for wandering souls to guide them back home.' Or something like that?" He patted the grass next to him.

Xiao sat down. "Venti, where do you live?"

"Ehe." Venti responded with an annoying non-answer. 

Still, Xiao quickly realized that Venti wasn't hiding anything. He moved as a vagrant, switching from one location to another just as he changed jobs.

"You're pretty lucky, Xiao! You have a nice apartment in the city, and you're always welcome at the Wangshu Inn. Plus, I'd be willing to bet that you have a family home you can return to if things go sour."

Venti was right. Although Xiao lived indebted to those who took care of him, in his efforts to be alone, he had failed to appreciate the welcome that was always extended to him. Sitting next to a fugitive like Venti, Xiao sunk a little deeper into the grass.

Venti also seemed to shrink into himself. "My only home was in Mondstadt," he continued, "but I can never go back."

"Why not?"

"Because it was destroyed. Maybe you’ve heard about it; it caused quite a news sensation."

"Sorry. I'm not familiar with Mondstadt's history…"

"Well, it was twelve years ago. Even if you did know about it, you probably forgot." Venti attempted to laugh it off, but it came out bitterly. 

Xiao felt as though he didn't have the right to ask, but he did anyway, "...What happened?"

"I ran away. You know, before that, I didn't have anything. I was a meaningless existence. I thought I would die that way. But when chaos erupted… we ran away. Maybe it was stupid, but at the time, I thought it was brave. When I escaped… that's when I became Venti the bard." Despite his usual pride, Venti didn't seem so happy about his conclusion. 

There were a surprising number of gaps in the bard's story. Topics he couldn't bear to acknowledge. But rather than wanting to press for details, Xiao was left with an even greater question: "Why did you tell me this?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I decided I want to be honest."

"I'm not sure it's fair for me to comment when I know so little, but I think I know how you feel…" Responding to Venti's candor, Xiao mumbled bashfully. "Before twelve years ago, I also… Well, I don't remember…" 

"Really?" Venti's head popped up from its slouch. "Then we have that in common! We were both reborn twelve years ago!"

What a silly thing to find camaraderie in. Nevertheless, Xiao found himself grinning slightly. Even if it was frivolous, someone had finally understood Xiao's experiences. An unknown weight had been lifted from Xiao’s chest. 

The sun had shifted Venti’s shadow several degrees before he spoke again. “Um… Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao answered quietly as to not disturb the peaceful silence that had settled on the hill.

“Thank you for rescuing me, and thank you for taking care of me for the past few days. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“What is it?” Xiao sputtered, his face burning up. 

“I’m extremely grateful for all you’ve done for me, but… there is something else I must be honest about…” Venti stood suddenly. “I think we should part ways here.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Well, the truth is…” Venti squirmed. “I'm probably responsible for the recent surge of attacks on you…"

Xiao sprung to his feet.

"...Or at least, I know how they found you."

"How?!"

"The Yaksha is a well-known name in Liyue's underground, you know? But little was known about him. Only two rumors: that he never misses a target and that he's probably affiliated with the Adepti Agency. But the second theory has always been very tenuous. Of course, the Agency would never admit to a secret weapon like that, but even investigations backed by corrupt officials have never found evidence of such an employee. But that changed recently.

"When I was digging through old case files, I found one involving the Adepti Agency twelve years ago. The leader of the Adepti Agency, while investigating another case near Stone Gate, found an unknown boy. However, that case was quickly closed without ever confirming the boy's identity. In fact, the case had been thoroughly buried and erased. I could only find that one file—the single piece of evidence that it ever happened. But that boy was you."

"How do you know that?!"

"Well, I saw your picture—you were very cute back then! But more importantly, it confirmed that the Adepti Agency was hiding something—someone. A nameless boy raised to be a secret weapon."

"That's not true at all!" Xiao snapped.

Venti jumped back. "Sorry! I have no idea how you were raised—I'm genuinely glad to hear that isn't true! But it's the assumption supported by the document!"

"So then what? Did you tell others about this 'secret weapon?'"

"No! I didn't! I just used the information to find you! From there I was able to confirm that you are in fact the Yaksha! I never told anyone what I found!"

Xiao believed him. Venti had already confessed to sabotaging Xiao's secrecy, so there was no reason for him to lie. Of course, Xiao couldn't just leave the matter at that either. "If you didn't tell anyone, how did the information spread?"

"It can't be a coincidence I found a document concerning your identity at the same time as everyone else figured you out. The file I found was very old and the only copy in existence. By digging it up, I made it easier for other people to access that information." 

Xiao sighed. "How can you be so confident?"

"'Confident?' I'm trying to warn you, you know!"

"Are you certain that others will reach the same conclusion because of one unresolved file?"

"Well…!"

"How do you even know that you were the first to find it?"

Venti's red cheeks puffed up, and his lips scrunched into a pout. "So what are you trying to say then?"

"I'm saying there is no conclusive evidence linking you to the recent leak of my personal info."

"Huh?" Venti stumbled back a step.

"Yes, I hate that you found that information. I hate that strangers have knowledge about me that even I don't fully understand! But if you didn't spread the information yourself, I can't blame you."

"...I don't understand… Why don't you blame me…? Why do you believe me…?"

"When I found you in that basement, when you were on death's door, the only thing you managed to say was 'I didn't tell anyone.' What kind of idiot cares about that at such a time? You could've died, but you were worrying about betraying me… That's why I believe you."

Venti blinked a few times as his mouth glitched somewhere between happiness and confusion. Then he sat down without a word.

Xiao followed suit and sat down too. In the following silence, he realized he was just as surprised as Venti by his words. He had meant each one sincerely, but why did he feel that way and why especially did he voice those feelings? Venti had been one nod away from leaving for good, but then Xiao made him reconsider. Almost as if he wanted Venti to stay. There was no way that was the case. Still, after confirming how little Venti had, Xiao couldn't leave him on his own either. When Xiao had nothing, Morax had given him a reason to live. Last time Venti's life had reached rock bottom, he had an important friend to rely on, but that friend had been murdered at some point, and now he had no one—except Xiao. Xiao couldn't be like Morax nor like Venti's friend, but he could at least be there. 

After a meditative quiet, Xiao spoke again, "Venti, what do you plan on doing now?"

"I'm going to look for my lyre." Xiao wasn't even sure if Venti had given his answer a first thought before he blurted it out.

"No, I meant from here…"

"That's the first thing I'm going to do." The level tone of Venti's response suggested that he was serious. "I was staying in a hotel before, but when I didn't return for several days, they probably sold the few items I had left behind—or worse—threw them out. The money can be remade, and the clothes replaced, but that lyre… I need to find it."

Xiao couldn't understand it, but for Venti, being a bard was as, if not more, important than his other job.

"What about you, Xiao?"

"I need to find that file." 

"You're right. I should have deleted it. I'm sorry."

"It's too late to worry about that anymore. I'm going to Stone Gate to investigate it myself."

"I'll come with you." Venti smirked. "I am the one who knows where it is."

"Fine." Xiao sighed. "I have a few errands to run beforehand, so we can meet at my apartment later. Okay?"

"Okay!"

[slavghoul]

A short but sweet interview with Tobias from Corren, a local Linköping newspaper :)

Forge hopes to return to Linköping with Ghost

"This is not the time to start thinking about whether we are ready. Unlike Kiss and Aerosmith, who are winding down, we're in the middle of building Rome still," says Tobias Forge.

- I’m fine, but I have a pretty bad pollen allergy and it currently affects me a lot.

Tobias Forge and his nameless ghouls are out on a European tour. When we reach him on the phone, the band is up for a three-day run with shows every night. First Oslo, then Stockholm and Malmö. The tour, which began with 26 shows in the US, is the band's first in two years.

- A year or so ago it felt like the end of the world, that everyone was dying. But now you wake up in the morning and... everything's just the same. Oslo is still standing. You can go outside and breathe and everything is fine. Except for all the pollen!

Tobias Forge grew up in Tannefors and went to Tanneforsskolan and Kungsbergsskolan. Since the debut album "Opus Eponymous" was recorded in Linköping in 2010, the band has grown and grown and grown. In admittedly strong competition, Ghost can be called one of the world's biggest modern hard rock bands right now. The latest album "Impera" entered the US Billboard charts at number two and the band's songs have been played hundreds of millions of times on Spotify. And on top of that all the live shows.

- It's always special to play at home. I'm a creature of habit and like it when there's a certain routine to everything. But when you play at home, it's like coming to work and there's a hundred mates hanging around who don't know what your job is. They want to do things and they ask things. It can be quite distracting, but it's very nice when it's over.

"Home" here refers to Tobias Forge's current hometown of Stockholm. The last "home-home" gig in Linköping was in 2015 at Doom on Ågatan street. That's when one of the band's spectacular pope changes took place - where the charismatic frontman (with Forge behind the mask) was replaced. Papa Emeritus II became Papa Emeritus III.

Will you be back?

- At some point we definitely will. But it's hard to do at the level we're operating now. Unfortunately, it suits Linköping to be so close to Stockholm. If Linköping had been at the same distance as between Umeå and Stockholm, it would have been easier to include Linköping. But those plans have been around for a long time. It's just that we haven't got it together yet.

Are you here sometimes?

- Sporadically. Not as often as I'd like. But it's very nice to come home. I'm always a bit shocked, there's always some new block that's been built.

Do you get recognised in Linköping?

- Maybe I will... I don't know. Sometimes I'm not sure. I'm on the verge of being face-blind, not completely blind but short-sighted anyway. So if someone looks at me, I don't know if it's because we know each other or if it's because they recognise me.

How big an impression has Linköping made on Ghost?

- For a while we had a backdrop on stage that was supposed to look like a church. But we used a picture of the windows of the house opposite Sankt Lars Kyrka where there used to be a bank. And Papa’s clothes have the Linköping lion embroidered on them. Linköping has made an unimaginable impression on me. I always say that the whole essence of Ghost is a percolation of my Linköping upbringing. A childhood that was very influenced by video, radio, television, my older brother and popular culture. The cathedral that I always thought was so cool when I was a kid. And Nya Tanneforsvägen, the street of my dreams.

Before Ghost and rock stardom, Tobias Forge worked as technical support at a telephone company in Linköping. Afterwards, he has admitted that he may not have been the best technical support, but he got a lot of other things done. Among other things, he designed the Ghost logo there.

- I'm not going to hang the company out to dry, because I've prided myself widely on how inefficient and bad I was. But geographically, it was near the long-distance bus terminal at that store... I don't know if it's still there?

Priso?

- Yes, Priso! That's where it was. It doesn't look the same there anymore.

In the beginning, the band's members were secret from the world. And it would stay that way until 2017, when the names were revealed during a lawsuit in Linköping District Court between Forge and some then-band members. By then, Ghost had gone from a secret, almost underground band playing at Cupolen at Folkets Park to a slightly less secret band selling out major venues around the world.

And there are no plans to slow down.

- No, no, no. We're just getting started. We've got things planned all the way to September 2023. There's so much I haven't done yet.

[theficblog]

REDEEM

LEE HAECHAN

Prologue: When your lover is mad at you for pity reasons, you know how to make amends.

Genre: Fluff + Established relationship AU

Wordcount: 1,050

Prompts:  “Need help getting out of those clothes?” + “Not even going to look at me, are you?”

Warnings: None

The clock signalled 11:30 pm on a Saturday night. Although this hour was nowhere near your bedtime, you still somehow found yourself in your bed that very day.

You were sat on the left side, changed into your pajamas, long and silky locks blow dried with an accomplished night time skincare routine as you scrolled through your feed. You made yourself comfortable and adjusted to perfectly complement your posture with the velvet, beige coloured headboard. Keeping away from the electronics and holding a piece of literature would have suited the aesthetic a bit better, but it was hard to let go of some habits, no matter how dangerous they were.

To your right was your boyfriend, sitting diagonally away from you with his sight facing the wall. The typical night like this would involve him and you doing something interesting, watching movie, baking, cuddling, stuffing your stomachs with leftovers or hell not, making love but it was a different story today. Haechan was mad at you.

It had been three hours since he last talked to you. All of your attempts to initiate a conversation were blandly being ignored. It wasn’t a matter of worry to you, you knew exactly what the root cause of this was. After all, you had been together since high school.

Sometimes you still sit and reminisce about those days, like a grandma who would tell stories of all the love affairs and boyish crushes she had in her youth. You still were rather young to reach that stage, but the memories of your high school love would always remain special to you. It was a flex, ninety percent of the students did not end up with it even after all the ‘love you forevers’, but you did.

You shake your head as you come back to reality- your high school love was still mad at you, sitting on the other edge of the bed. "Hyuck?" you called his name knowing that there was never a chance that he would ignore this nickname and answer immediately like a roll-call. "Hyuck are you mad at me?" You tried once more and before giving up on not receiving any response.

If it weren’t for two things, he would not have been like this: you defeating him ruthlessly at PlayStation football, and secondly, his sexy friend Jeno acing at the games you played, earning a few praises from you.

For Haechan, the PlayStation was more than just a method to pass the time or unwind; it was a matter of pride that he would never forsake. This was not the first time he had lost to you, but losing in front of a bunch of mates after bragging about his skills was a different matter altogether.

"Woah, I never knew you were this good, Jeno!", "Goddamn you broke the highest score!" and maybe a little chit-chat were all you had to offer. No, Haechan was never the type to get upset at you for a reason this pathetic, but you see, no one wants to watch their lover cheering for their friend instead of a friend - particularly when they're already having a horrible day.

The activity on the other side drew your attention right away. It was Haechan, who had been attempting to change into his night attire. Of course, he wouldn't sleep shirtless today; it was just another adorable way for him to express that he was upset.

You watched him as he struggled, trying his best to get his head out of the neck hole. That’s what being drunk did to him. What would this man do without you?

"Need help getting out of those clothes?" You offered him help, still awaiting a response.

That was enough; you needed to take command of the situation. You thumped your feet to reach him and met his gaze as you rose from the cushioned back and mattress. He made eye contact for a fraction of a second before shifting his focus to something else.

"Hyuk, look at me." You screamed at him, now infuriated, like a mother trailing after her toddler for an hour or two to put it to sleep. At times like these, Haechan would be no less than a toddler.

You let out a sigh as you held his arms. "Lee Haechan stop acting like a five year old!" You taunted, helping him to finally get his head out of the clothing followed by his arms, leaving his upper body bare.

"Not even going to look at me, are you?" You questioned him. Noticing his dazzling dark brown eyes, still away from you. Yeah, it was not the best time for it, but he looked hot. His unkempt dark hair, with its natural curls, complemented his illuminated, caramel-toned skin perfectly. To say the least, this view was enticing.

You then take a glance at his face, pouty like a puppy. He looked like a baby bear that has been refused cuddles, slouching with his arms crossed around his torso.

You were well aware that he was giving you the silent treatment, and you intended to take advantage of it. You begin by gently stroking your fingertips across his soft skin, from the back of his ears to his collar. Even if he refused, he would at the very least say something.

Just as you expected, he didn’t. You knew. He was waiting for you to come and make up to him. The touching now got more intense as you started running your fingers through his hair and drew yourself closer. Haechan on the other hand, remained in the same position as before, with the exception of his stare. He was now looking at you, finally.

You were straddling his lap less than a minute later as he now gripped you by the waist, your lips still glued to his, never separating. That was a magical moment, if not more.

You pull out as you try to blurt out words, barely managing to catch your breath. "Do I suppose we are back to normal now?" You inquire. Haechan glides his hand over your arm, his dark brown, beady eyes straight up meeting yours as he pouts again, this time only to unleash the cute devil inside of him. "Not like I was mad at you."

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