#don't go in there full of advice and do go in there insisting you're going to fix everything

[medicinemane]

There's people where it's like, you hear them talk and it's like "I can see you mean well, but you have a very narrow experience of the world and have come to the conclusion that what worked for you is what's gonna work for everyone"

And like... maybe you're right, maybe your way of living life is best, but just speaking observationally clearly a lot of people aren't for one reason or another gonna do things that way. I think some people just aren't built like that, and at a certain point you kind of just have to accept that some people are just different from you and aren't gonna live their life like you do or... you're just kind of being an unintentional jerk

I don't know, just get tired of all the one size fits all approaches out there which often more or less boil down to "why not join in with the mainstream and just be normal already?"

I don't know, from what I've seen to some extent people are what they are, and if they aren't being nasty but are suffering maybe they need a helping hand and accommodation

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[bookyeom]

pairing: hoshi x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, reader is a bad dancer?

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

dance with me by sarah kang ft. cody dear

'cause boy when i'm alone with you you make me wanna sway, wanna move

dance with me 나랑 춤출래? i don't care about where or when pick a song that never ends

You and Soonyoung have been stuck in some weird, uncharted territory for months now. 

He’s your friend, but he’s also so much more than that. You know it, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, too.  

You’d do anything for him, really. So when he asks you to meet him at the studio before you head home so that he can show you something new he’s working on, you don’t hesitate. Even though it’s midnight, and you’re exhausted from hours spent studying in the library – because Soonyoung is calling.

You can hear music as you approach the practice room, recognizing it as the song for the dance he’s been rehearsing for his final exam, so you’re surprised when you don’t see him through the windows at all. You turn the handle on the door to the room tentatively, opening it just enough to peek inside. And you smile.

Soonyoung is lying flat on his back near the wall closest to you, his chest heaving as he stares up at the ceiling. You watch as he marks the movements in small gestures from his spot on the floor, bobbing his head to the beat, as if he’s taking only half a break. You’ve been friends for quite some time now, and you know him well enough to know that his mind won’t settle until he’s perfected what he’s practicing. He’ll rest his body if he has to, if it makes him, but even then, you know he’s always going over choreo in his head. Like right now. 

You wait until the song is finished, until there’s quiet, and then you speak. “I was invited here to see some dancing, but it looks like I’m in the wrong place.”

Soonyoung’s head falls back onto the floor as he looks over, a grin spreading across his lips when he meets your eyes. He’s looking at you upside down, and it makes you laugh. Then you’re suddenly not laughing anymore, because within seconds he’s pushed to his feet and is bounding over to wrap you in a warm, sweaty hug. Now, your heart is racing.

“Hi!” He beams, moving back to squeeze you by the biceps. 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you manage. 

“I was just taking a break,” he explains, and you nod. “Don’t worry, that’s the first one I’ve taken all evening–”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I wasn’t worried before, but now I am, if you're telling me that’s the only break you’ve taken from dancing in the last four hours.”

He just laughs, letting go of you, and you roll your eyes. “Go sit over there, I’ll run it again. I don’t need you to help with much… There’s just this one part in the chorus where it feels a little stiff. Just tell me if anything feels,” he gestures into the air vaguely, “off.”

You nod, mock saluting him as you take your place on one of the chairs scattered along the wall on the other side of the room.

You watch as he sets up the song again, your cheeks warming when he begins shrugging off his hoodie. He’s turned away, his back and shoulders now on full display for you in the tank he’s wearing, and you can’t help but stare. You abruptly look down at your feet when he turns back towards you, the first beats of the song beginning to play. You look at him again as he zones in, squaring his shoulders and getting into position as he watches himself in the mirror. 

You don’t have a single rhythmic bone in your body. Watching anyone dance is mind blowing to you, but especially Soonyoung. He’s incredible. Why he wants your advice on his dancing is beyond you, but he always insists, and you’ve never been good at denying him anything.

And why would you even want to deny this? This — a front row seat to one of the most beautiful works of art you’ve ever seen. Soonyoung takes your breath away all the time, but especially like this. 

You’re so caught up in his movements that you don’t even recognize when the chorus hits, when it gets to the part you’re supposed to pay extra attention to. You’re in a trance, only snapping out of it when he makes one final turn, and the song ends. You blink, watching as Soonyoung returns to himself, the performer in him calming with every breath he takes. He lets his shoulders drop, lets his body relax, and then he lets out a loud sigh of relief. He crosses the room and joins you, falling into the chair next to yours, and drops his head onto your shoulder. 

You remind yourself to breathe.

“So?” He’s still breathless. You suddenly remember why you’re there, why he asked you to come and what he asked you to do, and you flush when you realize that you were too dazed to really notice if anything was amiss. 

“This is your best one yet,” you tell him honestly. Which is the truth, because despite your ogling, you would have noticed if anything was glaringly wrong.

“Really?”

You nod. “You’re amazing, Soonyoung.”

The words come out much softer than you intended, much more honest, and you can only hope he doesn’t read into any of it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re running out of reasons not to panic when he says, “Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen as he lifts his head and turns to you with a smile. 

“What?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder and stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. “Come on,” he grins, wiggling his outstretched fingers when you don't move. “I’ll teach you some of the easier moves.”

You let him pull you up, even as you continue to protest. “Soonyoung, you know—“

“Come on,” he insists, “you can do it!”

You groan. “I really can’t, you know this! I can’t dance, Soonyoung, I—”

“You can’t dance well,” he corrects, and you level him with a glare. He just grins wider as he adds, “but I know you like to! I’ve seen you on our nights out.”

You willfully ignore how his last comment makes you feel, trying desperately not to flush crimson red at his observation. At the fact that he’s noticed these things. “Yeah, so you already know I look like an idiot.”

“You look,” Soonyoung counters, “like you’re having a lot of fun. I’ve seen the way you smile when you’re dancing with your friends.”

You try once more. “No one is judging me there.”

“No one is judging you here, either.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because you can’t argue with that. You know he would never judge you – for anything. You huff, narrowing your brows as you give him a mock glare, but your shoulders fall in defeat. Soonyoung giggles – your favourite sound – and leads you into the middle of the room.

He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to guide you through what he claims is one of the easier steps to master, and to your surprise, you actually kind of get the hang of it. He’s a good teacher, you note, because of course he is, and you feel a bit less anxious with every “good job!” and cheer he sends your way. 

You continue to practice the same small sequence for a bit. When Soonyoung places both arms on your shoulders and stares you directly in the eyes, you stop breathing for a second.

“Okay,” he says, “this is the last move of this part, but it’s a bit hard.” He draws his lip between his teeth, and you watch it happen, because what else are you supposed to do? You think he notices, because his mouth quirks up at the side, but he doesn’t say anything except for, “You up for it?”

You don’t think you say yes, but he begins to teach you, anyway. And he’s right – this last move is hard. He continues to encourage you, and you continue to try and try and try, and –

You let out an ungodly squeal when you finally land in the right spot, pumping a fist into the air. “Yes! I nailed that!” 

You try one more time, two more times, and it’s not perfect — but you do it. 

You don’t even notice the way Soonyoung is looking at you until after you do the move for the third time. When you do, your heart leaps into your throat. He’s got his arms crossed as he smiles over at you, soft, and you think there’s a pink flush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. You try and tell yourself it’s from the dancing, even though you know it’s you that’s been exerting yourself for the last half hour, not him. He looks so fond, and happy, and there’s something else you can’t quite put a finger on. All you know is that it’s making your entire body warm. 

“What?” You ask as steadily as you can manage.

He just shakes his head. Then he abruptly looks down as if shaking himself out of a stupor, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you’re frozen in place. What was that all about?

“High five,” he offers, cutting of your train of thought, and it takes you a second to register what he’s asking for. 

And when your hand lifts to meet his, he doesn’t let go. 

It all happens at once. His fingers intertwine with yours, his other hand finds your waist, and suddenly he’s so close to you that you forget how to think. You know there’s no mistaking the shakiness in the exhale that leaves you. 

“Is this part of the choreo?” You finally manage, voice barely a whisper, and Soonyoung lets out a soft breath.

“No,” he admits, his voice low.

His hand slides around to your lower back, testing the waters further. His other hand falls from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort before he pulls you in even closer, like he can’t stop himself.

“What about this?” Your voice is so, so quiet.

“No.”

His voice is soft in the emptiness of the practice room around you. Your bodies are flush now, chest to chest, and you think that if he wasn’t holding you up, your knees would buckle. His eyes still haven’t left yours, waiting, though you don’t know for what. His gaze only breaks from yours to wander across your face; your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You can’t help the soft exhale that leaves you when his eyes find your lips, and you know he notices because you can feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your shirt. 

Moments pass like that, and when you still don’t move away, Soonyoung lets out a soft breath of air that you didn’t realize he’d been holding. His next movements are slow and calculated, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut. Your hand lifts to his chest, and you’re surprised when you feel just how fast his heart is beating. 

“Soonyoung?” You question softly after a moment, impressed that your voice even makes it out at all. He responds with an almost imperceptible shake of his head, his eyes still closed.

“I just… Just give me a second,” he murmurs, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it in the quiet of the practice room.

“Okay.” 

You have no idea what’s going on. All you know is that you trust Soonyoung with your life, and if he needs a minute — you’ll give him ten. You think that maybe you’re the one who needs a minute, though, because you’re not sure how you’re still breathing, let alone standing upright with him this close. 

So close that your breaths are mingling together in the small space that’s left between you, so close that you can count every single one of those beautiful eyelashes as they flutter against his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” Your hand moves of its own accord, moving from his chest to find his bicep and squeezing gently to remind him that he’s okay. He lets out a hum, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, and you’re almost worried now.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. If I’m being weird,” he elaborates. “It’s just that — well, honestly, ah,” he seems to attempt to squeeze his eyes shut even more, if that were possible. “I’ve really been wanting to kiss you lately — like, more than usual, which is already a lot — fuck, sorry.” He inhales sharply. “You just looked so cute watching me before, and dancing with me now, so I thought that I… and then you didn’t move away, so I thought that maybe you…” He trails off again, and you’re sure your ears are playing tricks on you. 

You move your forehead away from his, and his eyes finally open at the loss of contact. When your gaze meets his, your breath is nearly stolen away from you. He looks terrified as he searches your face, his eyebrows furrowed, and you know him so well that you swear you can hear him overthinking everything. His grip loosens on the back of your shirt but he doesn’t let go, and you can tell he wants to speak again based on the way his mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t. You haven’t moved, and he doesn’t either, and you know he’s letting you decide how to respond. He would give you all the space in the world if you asked for it, you know that.

You don’t want space, though.

“It’s not weird,” you finally say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you speak. “I’ve been feeling like that, too.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen, and he blinks slowly. He takes a moment, processing, and then he starts, “You—”

“I swear all I think about these days is kissing you,” you blurt out, and you’re not sure who’s blushing harder now, you or him. 

Before you even know what’s happening, Soonyoung is surging forward to close the whisper of distance that remains between the two of you. Then his lips are pressed to yours, hot and slow and lingering, his hand lifting to your jaw to angle your face so that he can kiss you even deeper. You let out an almost pathetic sounding whimper at the intensity of the kiss, at how warm and soft and good his mouth feels against yours, and he hums in return.

When he pulls away, it takes a second for your own eyes to flutter back open. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. 

“Holy fuck, Soonyoung.” You’re breathless, and you can tell he’s pleased with your comment as his thumb caresses the side of your jaw.

“So much better than I could have ever imagined,” he returns, and you flush. “And trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

You move to bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, not caring at all that he’s sweaty and warm. His arms pull you in, holding you close to his chest, and you hum as he gently sways the two of you. 

“Now neither of us has to wonder what it’s like anymore,” you say softly.

“You’re right,” he agrees, pulling you back so he can look down at you again. His hands clasp together at the small of your back as he leans forward to teasingly brush his nose against yours. “Now that I know what it feels like to kiss you, though, I’m definitely going to be thinking about it even more than I already was.”

Your arms wind your way around his neck. “Me, too.” 

“I mean…” Soonyoung is grinning, smile so bright it could outshine the sun, as he says, “We could just… keep doing it.” 

You pull him into you so abruptly that it makes you stumble, falling in a tangle of limbs down to the practice room floor. You wince as you land on Soonyoung, but he’s laughing as you roll off and onto your back beside him. You throw a hand over your eyes, and you can feel it as Soonyoung lifts onto his side next to you. A hand moves to trace patterns on your arm, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through you.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he murmurs, and you can still hear the smile in his voice.

“I know. I’m just… Embarrassed.”

Soonyoung’s fingers halt their motions as he finds your hand and brings your arm away from your face, entwining his fingers with yours. He continues to play with your fingers, his body firm against your side as he leans against you. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“I was trying to be sexy and I literally tripped us, Soonyoung. This is why you’re the dancer and I’m not.”

Soonyoung’s mouth moves slowly, almost painstakingly slow, as a smile takes over his face. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re about to let out a whine because you’re even more embarrassed with him looking at you like that. But he sits up, bringing you with him. The soft smile on his mouth grows, and grows, and grows, until his grin has widened so much that it’s taken over his entire face. 

“You like me,” he whispers, and you can’t help the giggle that tumbles past your lips. You flush, giddy over how giddy he is, and you nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really, really do.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Sorry a new fic took so long, there's been a lot going on in my life that I did not foresee lol. Thanks for waiting xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf

(Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

[yuri-is-online]

Can I request a kind of song fic? You know the song national anthem? The part where it says "red, white, blue is in the sky. Summers in the air, and baby heavens in your eyes". Can I have that with the first 3 dorms? Love your writing!

The familiar tone of cicadas and flushing greens bring about a stereotypical image of summer, and with it the reality of nearly a full year away from your world. No one has said it out loud yet, but it really does look like Twisted Wonderland is going to be your forever home, so it really is time you start thinking about what you want your future to look like...

And someone really seems to want a staring role in it.

I don't listen to Lana at all so I spent a brief moment wondering why someone was requesting I do a song fic based on the American National Anthem. Anyway I listened to the song a few times and came up with an idea, and then another, and another and I am so sorry this took forever. I hope you enjoy. notes: they/them used for Yuu, all scenarios are meant to take place over summer break, and contain a lot of summer themes. Going to the club and making out with Cater, possessive Leona, and mentioned vehicular manslaughter with Floyd. Other than that pretty tame. For other fic please look to my masterlist here.

Heartslabyul

Riddle

Riddle doesn’t know much about happiness now that he thinks about it.

He assumes he was happy when he played with Trey and Chenya all those years ago, and his mother had always been so insistent that true happiness came from doing well in his school work, and Riddle can say he gets something like happiness from his grades.  But then if that is “happiness” then what is this?  It doesn’t feel like it deserves quite the same word as what he feels like when he gets a good grade, and he certainly doesn’t get the same feeling of “happiness” from Trey as he does from you.  There’s a sting of pain to it that compels him to smile, to stay as close to you as possible when you speak.  

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

That was where the pain had to have come from, but you’re here with him now and he knows you won’t be going back to that great somewhere you had come from and being next to you still hurts.

“Here.”  You tap your metal sparkler ignites his and you smile, wide and free in an attempt to encourage him to enjoy himself.  You must have noticed how tense he is, something that doesn’t change as he tries to force his focus on the sparkler.  It’s simple, short, putting out a bunch of yellow sparks that he swears it shouldn’t have the strength to.  It’s a lot like him, he supposes, he holds it out and up further and watches it spark down, the burnt edges sagging under their own weight as it rages against the night sky and tries to rival the stars.  “Are you going to draw anything?”

“Huh?”  He’s supposed to be having fun.  Are you disappointed in him?  No, you seem to have expected this, you're reaching for new sparklers and fumbling looking for something.

“If you twirl the sparkler through the air it’ll leave light behind.  It looks like drawing shapes.”  You take the risk of nodding towards Ace and Deuce, who he thinks are trying to draw their card suits from how Ace is pointing and Deuce’s face and laughing at the brief flicker of a spade he thinks he sees.  “It won’t stay for long but it’s still fun.”  A lighter, he recognizes the click before he turns back around to you and sees you fumbling with it.  Your hands must be cold, he can’t be happy with that but the strange feeling surges and compels him forward with the gentlest of fires he’s ever conjured.

“You’re the expert, so I’ll trust your advice.”  You jump slightly with the sparks and laughter, saying something he doesn’t hear as he takes his sparkler and joins you in drawing little hearts in the air.  It has to be a silly thing he’s said for you to laugh so much, but he means it so.  If he lets you point out the fun things, he thinks as you toss your second set of spent sparklers into the bucket of water and hold out the next for him to light, he can busy himself with the practical.  And maybe together you can both learn to enjoy that thing called happiness you both don’t know much about.

Trey

“Don’t you think you are being unfair?”  The words come out even though it has got to be pointless to say it; Trey has to know why else would his smile be so “strained,” why else would he be so determined to keep from making eye contact?  And furthermore he has to know you know, that’s why he is standing so close to you despite this new no eye contact rule.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  He continues looping icing in detailed patterns across a particularly complicated cake that you have to stop and stare at in wonder, could you ever get that good?  Trey must have a great deal of patience to do such technical work, shame he has also decided to use that skill to test yours.  You huff and look at your own work, Trey has to know you’ve been looking at him, people can feel the weight of other’s eyes right?  Let’s see how he functions without your attention.

Fine, you assume he’ll be fine, he’s always so unbothered by anything you do.  Cater has always insisted otherwise, but you swear he’s uncaring too. 

“Maybe you should intern at a cake shop.”  You do your best to mimic his voice and he chokes on his laugh, it takes a great deal of strength and perhaps patience that rivals Trey’s own to not turn and look.  His laugh is so genuine you could mistake it for joy.  “That’s what you said.”

“I did, didn't I?  Good advice that.”  His voice is a bit closer now, you try not to think about how that’s possible, you were already working so close to one another how could he get even closer without touching you?  Why do you want him to touch you… 

“Why didn’t you just invite me here?”  That has got to sound more pathetic than it does biting, it certainly feels that way.  “I applied to three separate places, and before I even completed the first line on your little questionnaire I got a call back from them congratulating me on getting hired here.”  Trey doesn’t so much as flinch, you see him in the corner of your eye, pretending to adjust his glasses and inspect your work.

“Maybe I wanted some plausible deniability.”  He’s so sincere you finally look at him and only sort of regret it when you see his triumphant smile.  “But someone got a bit too excited about a friend from NRC finally visiting and chased everyone else off.”  You snort.

“I can’t imagine Cater’s never wanted to come here, what with how he talked it up so much.”

“He has mentioned it once or twice.”  Trey adjusts a strawberry on a cupcake next to you, out of nerves more than need as he wonders over how to word what he wants to stay next.  “But I am glad you decided to come.  I was worried you would say no.”  You snort and Trey laughs slightly as he watches you squirm in indignance and tries not to focus on your lower lip’s quiver.

“Why on earth would I say no?  I’ve been curious about this place since forever.”  There’s flour on your apron he wants to smear on your face as an excuse to touch you and ignore the aching annoyance in his chest.  I don’t want you to be curious about the shop, everyone is.  I want you to be curious about me.

“Well there are more interesting ways to spend your summer than next to an oven.”  He says it nonchalantly as his thumb lingers on your nose just a bit longer than it should and your annoyance fades in place of something he doesn’t know but wants to oh so badly.

“Well maybe I just didn’t have anything better to do.”  He loves how pretend annoyed you get with him, the way your nose twitches and your eyes dart to look anywhere but him.  “And maybe I’ll not have anything better to do this winter or next summer either.”  He loves the security he has to indulge in those little things, even if you can’t ever go back to your old home.

“Oh?  That’s a real shame.”  He finally moves his thumb down your cheek and curls his fingers just under your chin to force you to look at him, to beg you to see a new possibility in his eyes.  “I can fix that.”

Cater

Cater inviting you places wasn’t a new thing, but you had really expected it to become an old one once he hit his fourth year and didn’t constantly see you irl and have to pretend he was as invested in your friendship as you were.  Was that a cruel thing to think?  Sure.  Did you hate yourself for it?  Absolutely.  Was it partially a product of your overwhelming fear of the consequences of opening up to someone with abandonment issues when you were all but guaranteed to permanently abandon him in a way that was so much worse than any of his previous friends?

Well now you were just being way too serious for the type of trip you were currently on.  You’ve never seen so many flashing lights outside of a nightmare but Cater certainly looks like he’s having the time of his life on the dance floor with Lilia and Kalim while you sit next to Trey being “boring” in the corner.  Not that you shouldn’t be at the club, you've just got a lot on your mind and no place to think it. 

“You don’t have to sit here with me if you want to.”  You apologize and Trey laughs, surprisingly not at all awkward.

“I’d make a total fool of myself, and I don’t want to end up on magicam being called someone’s dad.  Again.”  He swirls his drink in his hand and you look down at yours; you’re at a beach if you didn’t remember because of the stray sand in your shoes you would know by the little umbrella in your cup and the cheekily unbuttoned hawaiian shirt that displays the beads around Cater’s neck as he makes sure to fill your entire vision and steal your breath.

“Yuuuuu, c’mon dance with me.”  He grabs both your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and pulling out to the floor with the force of his voice as much as his grip.  “Can’t let you stay in the corner allll night, I’d be a bad senior!”  You think you hear Kalim and Lilia say something to Trey, but Cater’s so close to you, you can’t really hear anything, not even the music or the last call from the bar that sends you and your friends into the street stumbling back towards the hotel Kalim had insisted on booking.  “They’re certainly having fun.”  Cater hasn’t  let go of your hand, thumb circling your palm before finally resting nearby your pulse point.  “Sort of a shame to call it quits now.”  So he says but you can see the night’s been getting to him.  

“If you need a break I don’t think anyone will blame you.”  You squeeze his hand and a little of Cay Cay’s smile returns to Cater’s face as he squeezes back.  “Do you want me to let you sleep when we get back to the rooms?”  

He doesn’t respond immediately.  Those serious thoughts from before bring you back to reality and you finally see how far behind you’ve lagged from the rest of your group.  

“I want to hear your voice.”  The dull fear of abandonment snakes through you both and coaxes out Cater’s words he’d probably wouldn’t have ever said if you weren’t staying and he was completely sober.  It hitches in your breath as he looks at you, Cater’s real unguarded smile on his face as he lets the boardwalk lights shade him in their perfectly imperfect artificial shine.  “I want to hear you say we’re besties out loud again, I want it to be real.  Because I’m mad I screwed things up before thinking you’d be gone when you’re so desperately real.”  You wave the others on ahead, they shake their heads with knowing looks as you stop and lean into Cater, pressing your foreheads together and staring deep into each other’s eyes searching for something neither wants to admit was always there.  “You don’t deserve to be stuck here.”

“You don’t deserve to be stuck in your own head.”  He flinches and you reach to touch his cheek, could you kiss him here?  Would that be moving too fast?  “I’ll be just fine, Cater.”  

“But I want to keep you stuck here with me.”  He mumbles, and makes the move to kiss for you.  Your arms move around his neck and your hands thread through his hair, pulling him close as he never dared to be.

You’ve got all sorts of things you want to say out loud, just for him to hear.

Ace

“It’s so hot.”  Whines Grim, his bright smirk completely betraying his intent as you try not to sigh too loudly as you look over the prices at this ice cream stand Ace had convinced you to check out.  “I reeeeeally wish we had an ice cream sundae right now, don’t you hench human?”  

“You already had half a watermelon earlier,” you mutter “if I get you a whole sundae you might get sick.”  He won’t.  Grim almost never gets sick.  You’ve seen him eat and rank literal dirt.  But still you already are going to be carrying back the groceries Ace’s mom asked for and didn’t need something difficult to carry.  Thankfully there always seems to be something for cats in the Queendom of Roses because the seller helpfully pipes up that he has a tuna flavored push pop that Grim immediately begs for instead.

You consider getting the same one for Ace, but his childish joy when you pass him a cherry popsicle before opening your own is almost worth the missed joke.  “Aww nice, about time you paid me back for everything I do for you.”  Almost.  You roll your eyes and take your share of the grocery bags, half heartedly fighting for Ace to let you take more of them.  He won’t let you, nodding towards Grim in way of an excuse as if the little monster ever lets you take his paw.  He’s been doing a lot of things like that while you’ve been staying with his family, it’s actually been sort of nice.  There has been a sort of domestic give and take between you two for a long time now that you think about it, probably since the first time he tried to sneak his way into your bed, that has translated into something like a routine.  His family has been nice enough not to say anything about it but you know they see it too.  “Hey you have work tomorrow right?”

“Yeah.”  You try to blink your way back to a more normal state of mind.  “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah I’ll just text you if I think of something when I’m on my way to pick you up.”  Ace says it so nonchalantly you have to wonder what old Ace would say.  The one who made fun of you for not having magic and ditched a girlfriend without saying anything for being boring, or did you never actually know that guy and got lucky enough to meet the ace of hearts instead?  

“Ya don’t always gotta walk them.”  Grim snorts, unimpressed as always in a way that never fails to make you smile.  “Yuu isn’t gonna disappear!  Headmage said they were here to stay.”  Ace rolls his eyes and you laugh.  For some reason he never fails to take bait from Grim.

“That’s not what it’s about, dummy, walking alone is dangerous.”

“Yeah Grim,” you teasingly scratch his little head “besides the only one who isn’t going to be around forever is Ace.”  

“Do you really think I won’t be around forever?”  Ace actually looks offended, sounds it too and you find yourself indignant.

“You’ve got to have a life eventually.”  You shrug.  “Deuce and me, school, that doesn’t last forever.”   “You can be a part of that life too you know?!”  It’s not the closest to a confession you’ve ever gotten from Ace, but it’s certainly the loudest.  “Look, I get you’ve got a lot going on in your mind right now, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.  I’ll sit outside that door waiting for you to be ready, and I’ll still be there even if that day never comes.  If you’re really in trouble I’ll bust down that door, just because you’re forced to be here doesn’t mean you’re alone.”  You wait.  You wait for the back track, the joke, the step back into the comfort of the friend zone but it doesn’t come.  He looks you in your eyes and keeps walking forward towards home.  “You have me, you know?”  You’ve always had me.

Deuce

Sometimes you forget how abnormal Deuce is.  Probably because it’s a normal sort of abnormality, if any such thing exists, that doesn’t involve magic or monsters and you would have been able to wrap your mind around no matter what time and place you had met in.  But that doesn’t mean Deuce is not capable of doing or saying things that surprise you.

“Let’s make a pillow fort.”  He says, the familiarity of his joy the only thing that’s keeping you from screaming about his words.  “I’ve never made one before, it’ll be fun!”

“Oh I refuse to believe that.”  You laugh but refuse to protest, Ace isn’t here to bring down the mood and there’s no way Grim would deny something that he thinks is guaranteed to involve popcorn from the few times you’ve camped out in the Ramshackle Lounge and watched TV together.  And to be fair that’s also your plan for tonight, Deuce has a bunch of movies he’s been determined to show you since you agreed to stay over for the Summer.

“Well maybe back when I was a kid with my mom.”  He certainly has enough blankets for it, but then what self respecting house doesn’t have a few extras?  “I’ve never had a friend stay over before…”  If you were in a different mood, if his flushed face wasn’t so cute, you might tease about how you had been here before with Epel, Ortho, and Silver but there’s a tone to the way he says friend.  It’s the way he makes sure to lie as close to you as possible in your little fort and watches you as much as the movie that tells you that he feels, even if he doesn’t think, that this is somehow different.  “Have you?”  He asks it late, as the credits roll on your third or fourth movie and Grim snores.  “I thought maybe we could do something normal for once, but I forgot to ask.”  You laugh and roll your head onto his shoulder and allow yourself to really think about things.

“Thank you.”  It’s the first thought you have, surprising you both.  But should it?  There’s something warm and comforting about being with Deuce.  Natural even.  “I can’t say I’m happy but I feel closer to home than I have in a while.”  Deuce squeezes your hand and rests his head on top of yours.

“I’m glad.  I- know I shouldn’t be but I am sort of happy you’re still here.”  He wants to say he’s happy you are staying, but he knows he can’t.  It would be too cruel and Deuce knows he can’t really understand the depth of what you’ve lost or make up for it with sleep overs or movie nights.  But he does so want to try.  “I promise I’ll do my best to make your time here worth it, I meant what I said during Starsending.  I want you to be there when I get my badge, I want to make you proud of me too.”  

“I’d say I’ll be the loudest in the room but I’ve met your mom.”  You sleepily quip and he laughs.  “And I’m already proud of you, Deucey.”  His half open mouth freezes, his thanks stuck in the softness of your voice as he wills himself to sleep to sear the sound into his brain.

“Sweet dreams, Yuu.”  He’ll make this a summer worth having, he swears it.

Savanaclaw

Leona

“You cannot have driven me out here just to nap.”  Leona’s head is heavy and warm in your lap in stark contrast to the cool greenery that shades you from the rest of the palace.

“Can’t I?”  He opens his eyes to look up at you with a gleam that’s just so smug it makes your heart flutter in what you have to work very hard to convince yourself is annoyance.  “Because I could have sworn I just did.”

You aren’t sure why Leona invited you.  That one time you had visited the Savannah before had been because Grim demanded, not because he wanted you there.  Or at least that’s what you had thought but this time you had received an invitation, and though it had been worded more like a demand (must be a cat thing) it had been surprisingly thoughtful in its accommodations.  Grim certainly had been happy enough to accept on your behalf even before Crowley had agreed to let you go.

“I’m just surprised you would want anyone with you to nap at all.”  You had been afraid to touch him when you saw him, but you swear he wants you to play with his hair with how he purposely spreads it out, like he’s displaying for you.  “I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me.”

“Maybe I would have been.”  His bluntness is only dulled by its predictability, there’s something almost relieving about it if you’re honest.  Everyone has been so insistent on saying they are happy you have stayed and just as eager to avoid talking about the specifics that worry you.  Not Leona, he keeps his green eyes focused on you, striking right at the heart of things.  “But you aren’t half as annoying as everyone else, even if you could stand to fight for yourself a bit more.  Why do you think I invited you here anyway?”

“...so your family wouldn’t bother you about your duties?”  He laughs, loud and free and so forceful he shakes your entire body with its pride.

“Well you’re half right.”  He reaches up and pulls you down, rolling to the side so you’re lying in the bit of ground he’s warmed and caged in the safety of his arms with nowhere to run from the obvious truth.  “You’re here because I want you to be.”  The way he says it, the touch of his forehead against yours and the lull of his heartbeat, it’s like he’s daring you to think of your entire existence in Twisted Wonderland in terms of him and him alone.  And he knows it, he has to he’s too smart to word his sayings in a way that would misconstrue his meaning.  “What’s that shit you herbivores are always yammering on about?  ‘Finding your family?’  Well I found you so you’re going to stay right?”

“Are you offering me citizenship, your majesty?”  Because you have to make this a bit of a joke otherwise you’ll let him in on just how much power over you he really has.

“I’m offering you a home.”  He’s surprisingly serious.  “It’s dark, a bit shit, but you already like those sorts of places if your dorm is anything to go by.  And you’re so annoyingly sunny I’m sure it’ll perk right up when you settle yourself in.”  Just like he does as you move to hide your face in his chest, your breaths matching in the safe lull of slumber under the jungle’s starry sky.

Ruggie

“Man, I love Summer!  People are just so much freer with their cash, y’know shishishishi.”  Ruggie cackles as he settles himself into a booth, still somehow full of energy despite the day you’ve both had while you slump across from him.  “Peak tourism season means loads of opportunities for work!”

“I know Leona said this place was popular but I guess I didn’t realize just how much.”  Ruggie had been so proud to show you this barbeque place after your first night working at the resort with him, and you had been more than happy to know it on nights like this when you had worked overtime meeting some really pushy customers' needs for what felt like way too little money.  Even though this gig paid pretty well some people just weren’t worth shit, something Ruggie knows all too well.

“Yeah, nothing on Sage’s Island ever gets this busy.  You holding up ok?”  Ruggie’s always like this while he’s on the job, you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean too much by it, that he’s just checking up on you from a place of mutual understanding but it still feels good.  Good enough that the smile you manage is genuine.

“Surprisingly, yeah.”  You could really do with some more sleep than you are going to get when you return to Grim tonight, but then you always could.  “What about you?  You always look twice as busy as me and that’s saying something.”

“Aww, you worried about little old me?  Kiiinda weird Yuu!  I’m the senior here, I'm more used to this.”  He’s the same smug Ruggie, brimming with enough confidence and infectious determination that perks you up just a bit.  Or maybe it’s the fact your food’s come and you are determined to snatch up the utensils and cook before Ruggie can and use it as an excuse to keep all the best cuts for himself.  He doesn’t jump to fight you tonight though, instead he looks contemplative.  “Hey, are you sure you’re ok with how you spent your Summer?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  The meat sizzles on the grill, dampening the seriousness of the conversation with its pops, and Ruggie tries to focus on it but it’s clear he has been thinking about this for a while.

“Well, my invitation was kinda late.  I was really surprised you didn’t want to spend your Summer hanging out with your friends.”  You don’t say anything immediately, wondering how best to respond to someone who, admittedly, has never really admitted to being your friend despite you both regularly flirting with that and a much deeper concept.  

“I mean I do.”  It’s best to be honest with him, he won’t accept anything else even if it hurts to see you refuse to look at him as you flip the meat to cook its other side and continue thinking out loud.  “But I’m going to be stuck here forever, I want to get a head start on some security.  I can’t live in Ramshackle forever.  And besides…”  It’s best to be honest with him, you reassure yourself as you take a deep breath and give him the cut you know he’ll like best and stare deep into his eyes.  “I was happy to hear from you and get a chance to see you again sooner.”  His ears twitch and his eyes widen, words fumble out of his mouth without any real meaning as you both silently agree to table the conversation and eat your meal.  The best meals aren’t rushed, and the best connections allow themselves the time they need to grow.  You know you’ll both be ok, you promise yourself you will make sure of it.

Jack

“Jack, what is this thing again?”  You ask slightly exasperated, not with the product or with him, just yourself for still not remembering the types of snack foods available in a basic convenience store after a whole school year in this world.  For once, Jack doesn’t complain or pretend he doesn’t want to help, just dutifully walks over and looks at the package before putting it back on the shelf.

“It’s a type of chip, you liked this flavor better.”  He adds it to his basket and you sigh, mutter an apology Jack doesn’t acknowledge verbally, instead touching your thigh gently with his tail.  “Is there anything else you want to bring back to Sage’s Island with you?  If you don’t remember until you get back…”  I won’t send it to you.  That’s what he wants to say, but he cuts himself off before he can.  He can see your mind auto filling it in as you think, and he curses himself silently.  What a fool he’d been, “I won’t need to do that I’ll just know” he hadn’t counted on lying to himself about how he felt.  His mother had, she’d even laughed about it when he had tried to stumble around asking to let you visit.

“A soulmate is something you work for, Jack.  It’s not given to you, you have to earn it.”

Jack likes to think he works hard.  His grades are good, he’s in great shape, his unique magic is truly a gift and he isn’t taking it for granted but you.  You’ve got two separate drinks held up to the light, neither of them are exclusive to the Shaftlands.  You could get them at Sam’s any time but you are squinting as if you have truly never seen them before and he guesses that’s because it’s true.  Why is it so hard to just speak to you?  Is it because you're human?

“If you want something limited, those are over here.”  He takes what you were looking at anyway.  “My sister really likes this one.”  I think you will too, it’s a lot like what you get from the vending machines.  You nod and add it to the basket, turning towards the canned goods and insisting on getting some “fancy” tuna for Grim with a smile that stirs his soul and reassures him of what Jack knows is true even if he can’t speak about it.

“You think he’d notice even if it was different?”  You are shaking your head as you look at the can, making jokes but not bothering to pretend you don’t care.  It’s maddening, how bright you shine for those you care about and how little he can do to give that shine back to you.

“You can’t tell him how much it costs, otherwise he will insist it is.”  That works, you laugh and his tail goes crazy, unable to hide how important your laughter is to him.  I love you.  That’s what he wants to say.  “You should come back next summer.”  But he doesn’t, he rubs his neck and looks at the shelves and thinks it so loud he swears his heart is halfway out of his chest.  There’s a soft look in your eyes that he wants to think says you hear it, but he knows that he can’t take it as an excuse.  Next summer I’ll say it.  I’ll say it every day that you’re here, I promise.  Your smile is everything he needs.

“I look forward to it.”

Octavinelle

Azul

There’s a picture on your phone you don’t think you were meant to see, but magicam lets you delete photos and Azul hasn’t done that yet.  It’s been an hour, the little opened notification sits there taunting you both but still he doesn’t do anything.  Not send a follow up message or delete the photo or anything and FINALLY you’ve had enough so you do something beyond reckless.

You call him.  And he answers.

“Prefect!  Always a pleasure to hear from you.”  Azul sounds so infuriatingly put together you want to die.  You bet he’s sat in some sort of fancy office, leaning back with a smug look on his face while you hug a pillow close to your chest, still in your pajamas seething with nerves over his little mistake.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Did you mean to send me a picture of your menu for orientation?”  You cringe at how upset you sound, because you really aren’t exactly.  It’s silly to hope Azul would talk to you over the summer at all, and if he did of course it would be about business.  That’s what talking with Azul is always about.  “Oh and hello I guess.”  But it still pays to be polite if for no other reason than the melodic laughter that you get to hear at what you're sure Azul sees as a cute mistake.

“I would have called you if I hadn’t.”  He sounds like he is reassuring a child, but still pauses to keep you off your game before he continues.  “I was expecting you to give your opinions on it, you have to have some don’t you?”  

“Not for free.”  You snort and he laughs again, slightly more awkwardly this time and you wish you could say that you didn’t feel bad, that you were as cold and calculated as the sea but neither of you are really.  It isn’t wrong to want something is it?  Azul is pro-greed, so surely he would understand you teasing him a bit to keep him in your life for just a bit longer.  “Do you need my opinion for something?”

“Just to hear it.”  Azul has a way of being so damnably dismissive about things it drives you insane.  Just once you want to hear him say- “Besides, it’s been a while since we talked and I thought it would be a good ice breaker.”  You choke on your own thoughts and almost break your jaw trying to keep him from hearing.  “You’ll be there I trust?”

“Orientation?”  Your throat hurts and it shows in your voice, that stupid octopus has got to be so smug right now it would be so insufferable to look at.  You definitely aren’t thinking about it and it definitely isn’t making your struggle to breathe worse.  “Or the Lounge?  Because it’s not like I’ll have anything to do really if you want help or something… I am sort of curious about those house themed drinks, that's a stupid good idea for an orientation by the way.”

“I knew you’d get it!”  Azul sounds so excited it’s almost pure.  “You’ll have to come by beforehand so I can show you how to make them, it took so much time to get the correct flavor pallet for the Savanaclaw and Ignihyde ones you have no idea-”  

And just like that he has you, he has you!  You’re listening and talking to him through all of his explanations, probably sitting somewhere under a tree well put together with Grim on your lap and… smiling he hopes?  While he is curled into a small ball in his room trying to pretend he knew this would work out exactly like he wanted the whole time.

You’ll be there.  When the bell strikes and the mirror opens its gaze on NRC once again he won’t have to be nostalgic for flames and mayhem because you will be there.  And this time he swears he’ll catch you for good.

Jade

It’s the last day of school and yet you have nothing to pack and nothing to do.  The usual excitement that accompanies the final freedom of summer is sort of lost in that void of being unable to go home, and as ashamed as you are to admit it you think you’ll go crazy if you don’t have anywhere to go next summer.  You already felt so overwhelmingly lonely when you first got the news, and you have heard these things get better but it doesn’t feel like it will.  Even the knock at your door fills you with dread, you don’t want to ruin Ace and Deuce’s excitement with your bad mood.  But that’s not what you see when you open your door.

“Hello prefect.”  Jade Leech is tall, so tall he fills up the frame with his stiff figure that you always have noticed for how proper it is but today he seems even more rigid than usual.  Guarded is the word you would use if you could ever picture him being afraid of you.  “May I come in?”  You nod and shut the door behind you both, your idle curiosity drowning out the danger signs as neither of you move or speak.  Jade’s hands stay folded in front of him, yours stay at your sides as you wait.  Wait wait wait for what you don’t know, hadn’t the twins told you they visited their parents over this break?  His mother sounded lovely, why would he want to keep her waiting?  “I was wondering…”  He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to his chin as if he is deep in thought but it reads more like it is taking a lot out of him to say what he wants to “Would you be interested in climbing Mount Moln with me sometime?”  Your breath catches in your throat, the memories of your trip to Harveston still somewhat fresh and inviting in their domesticity.  You hadn’t thought he would remember that little conversation you’d had, but he does.  His wide smile when he opens his eyes to see your fluster screams it’s haunted his dreams as much as it has yours.  “I do seem to recall you expressed a desire to climb it, and since you will be staying with us for the foreseeable future I thought I would take my chance on the proposal.”  Did he have to word it like that?  It’s doing things to your heart.

“I did say that, didn't I?”  You try to center yourself by closing your eyes, it’s always a bad thing to appear desperate around him but your mind insists on remembering.  The feel of the snow, the smell of the woods and the bonfires, and of Jade whether he would believe you or not.  Of the excitement in his voice when he named all the plants he knew, of the funny look on his face when his sled misbehaved, so passive as if it was happening to someone else and not him.  And of the shiver of excitement at his ideas on how to sabotage the other team, whispered quietly in your ear so as not to alert Epel in an effort to convince you of his position.  Or maybe now that you look at him he just wanted the excuse to be close.  “Yes.  Yes.  I would like that very much.”  Jade’s smile stretches to something as dangerous as it is thrilling as he takes his long desired excuse and closes the gap. “I will see you next week then.  Make sure to pack your things.”  You splutter and he takes a deep breath to savor the look as he traces your cheek and takes your weak protests in stride.  He never did say you would be going to Mount Moln this summer, you need to train after all.  Jade Leech intends to take his time with you, assuming you’ll let him of course.

Floyd

“Hehe Floyd and shrimpy, drivin to the beeeeach.  What’ll they do?”  

“Stay in their lane and watch the road.”  Crewel has to have added a “fuck” in there that he didn’t voice if his death grip on the car’s grab handle is anything to go by, and if you are honest you wish he had, it would make this whole experience much more bearable.  You have opted to hold Grim instead, prayer was also an option but that wouldn’t keep Grim from trying to harass Floyd.  He’s laughing now, saying something to Professor Crewel you can’t quite place, maybe adding a new verse to his little song that admittedly sounds kind of catchy.  Floyd has a very nice voice you swear he only ever uses to make fun of people, not that you could see him ever doing anything with it since that would take too much repetitive work.  “Pull off the exit here and make sure to park WITHIN the lines this time.”  Crewel snaps and you find yourself finally at a merciful stop, and unable to free yourself and Grim from your seatbelts fast enough under the guise of “getting your things” from the trunk.  

You aren’t fast enough to avoid Floyd.  He’s there as soon as you open the trunk, tell tale smirk on his face.

“Well shrimpy?  I’m waitin’”  He’s giggling, the only thing that’s keeping him from kicking his feet is their need to be on solid ground to keep him upright.

“You suck.”  You say completely deadpan without a hint of irony.  “Congratulations I didn’t know anybody could do it that bad.  Why did you want to try learning to drive again?  They don’t have cars under the sea do they?”  Floyd seems amused by your attempt to steam past your little insults, choosing to ignore them for now and shrug as he takes the umbrellas out of the car and closes it.  

“It seemed fun.  Beakerfish is always goin on about ‘em and Pops says they get stupid expensive.  Why’s that huh?  You humans sure do like buying shit just to break it.”  He doesn’t move immediately, like he’s waiting for something and determined to block your way until he gets it.  So you take a deep breath and lie to yourself that it’s just this one answer.

“Floyd, most people don’t wreck their cars on purpose.”  It should be the most obvious thing in the world, but still he doesn’t move.  His smile gets wider and his eyes blaze with determined focus, for some reason he gets closer to you, one hand resting above you on the car to loosely cage you against it.  He has to know what he’s doing here too, Floyd’s a lot but he’s not stupid. “Aww really, shrimpy?  There’s so many movies and games ‘bout it you’d think that’s the whole point of havin’ em.”  He giggles exactly like he does before moving in with a squeeze, bending to whisper in your ear as if Crewel isn’t just on the other side of the vehicle still holding that damn crop and just looking for an excuse to strike.  “That’s not all they do in the movies though, huh Yuu?  Maybe I wanna take you someplace nice,quiet, and all alone for once~”  And just like he’s gone, back to bothering your professor who you know is chastising himself for agreeing to chaperone this trip while you try desperately to catch your breath.

[ravens-two]

PICK A CARD reading

How do other people see you?

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Decks used: Dark Wood Tarot & Green Witch Oracle

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Strength & Banana

Main Star sign energy: Leo & Cancer

Hi, Pile 1, Banana is the card of duality and so I think that it may be that people see you in very different ways, like you're not very consensual to the general public. The people you meet can't really decipher you, some perceive you to be incredibly nice, while others find you off-putting. However, with this card and Strength I also feel like people turn to you a lot for advice. People find you to be very wise, and most of all, impartial. They trust that you will see things from every perspective and offer the best advice you can. This also means that some people see you as a devil's advocate, because you insist on giving voice to different points of view.

In general, I think that people perceive you as being very outspoken, you don't shy away from conflict, but you don't go looking for it either. It's just that it naturally finds a way to you and you can't help but stand up for yourself and others. I also feel like other people find you to be a very calming presence, I think that it's mix of it just being your vibe, but also that they know that they can count on you to help solve any problem that might come up.

A bit random, but I think that you are known to make dirty jokes and also your sense of humor is very underrated, kind of deadpan and sometimes others can't tell if you're being serious or not.

Other people see you as being very confident in yourself, even if you don't feel like that. There's a sort of confidence that shines through you. Also, you are known as being very loyal to your friends.

Pile 2

6 of Cups & Lemon

Main Star sign energy: Gemini, Scorpio & Cancer

Pile 2 the first thing I'm getting with your group is that you have big Cancer energy. Being with you feels like coming home. I think that the people closest to you feel almost "mothered" by you, I mean this in the best way possible, they know that they can count on you to make them a nice cup of tea, pull out a blanket and hear out their problems. You have a very safe presence.

Some not so nice energy that is also coming through is that some people think that you're stuck in the past. This sentence is coming through very clearly like this to me, but I think that it will apply differently to each of you. It might be a bit literal, like you refuse to embrace new technologies for example or it could be more like you are frequently reminiscing about the good old days. I think that sometimes you are seen as being a bit sad, like filled with ennui if that makes sense. Despite that, I think that you are someone who remembers. You always know your friends birthdays and you remember the little details about their lives, and they appreciate this so so much.

With the lemon card I think that you are very talkative, but only when you feel comfortable. And the interesting thing is, when you get to the stage where you're really really comfortable you start to hold back less and less and you end up being a bit mean with your words. You're not trying to be mean, but they might sting a bit because you're brutally honest. Also, with lemon being the card of cleansing I think that your friends perceive you as being very good at cleaning. I mean this both in a literal sense (lol) and metaphorically. You're good at closing old chapters and cleaning out the old to bring in the new (with a twist too, because you always make space for the memories). You give me this vibe of it doesn't matter if it was good or bad, it matters that it happened.

Pile 3

Empress & Orange

Main Star sign energy: Virgo & Taurus

Pile 3 people see you as being full of life and energy. You are the life to her party, even if there isn't a party, you know how to cheer and pump up the people around you. I also think that people find you very charming and they love to hear you talk. In fact, I think that others love being around you and being around your energy, because it's just so big. Do you know that poem about the orange? In this metaphor you are the orange.

There's also this really interesting vibe that you are very sensual, it could be like sensual as in sexy, but like sensual as in using your senses. You love eating, you love listening to music, you love pretty things. I think that your friends and acquaintances even always ask you about restaurant recommendations and stuff like that. Also, other people love your style and your aesthetic. In fact, they really admire how cohesive you look.

Others also see you as someone who is incredibly creative and that is always filled with ideas. Honestly I think that most of you are either studying arts/design/etc or you work in those areas. You are known for your work. There's also this thing that if one of your friends has a problem they will come to you if they need an out of pocket solution. Like, you always have one. Your friends love your sense of humor, it's always so random and unpredictable. And I honestly think that you might be very popular on social media.

Pile 4

7 of Swords & Pea

Main Star signs energy: Pisces & Aquarius

Hey pile 4, you are the embodiment of chaotic energy. I don't think that anyone can pin you down, and when someone thinks that they have you figured out you immediately prove them wrong. This is big Aquarius energy honestly, not with the chaos, but with the fact that you see things in such a different manner that no one can predict what you are going to do or say next. I also think that you're the type of person to lie for fun (nothing serious of course, but just making up a whole different life to some stranger you'll never see again).

You are filled with ideas and people find you to be a good communicator. In particular I think that you're good with speaking and writing. There's also this vibe that your friends never know when to expect an answer to their texts, it could be immediately or three weeks later.

Your mind is very very busy, always buzzing with new ideas and scenarios and I think that sort of comes across to other people who think you are a bit scatterbrained. Also, people think that you are very smart. I am also getting this vibe that you have a sharp tongue, especially when it comes to social commentary. Sometimes you'll make a sarcastic comment about something around you, but not everyone will get it and those people find you a bit weird. You may get lost while telling a story, going on multiple tangents to explain your train of thought. And I also think that you get distracted easily. Some people find that a bit annoying, but your friends find it endearing.

There's this type of trickster energy here with the 7 of Swords so it might be that you are known for pulling pranks on your friends. Your presence is very fun, but sometimes a bit unsettling because again, no one knows what you're going to do next.

[renthony]

I have seen multiple posts lately that boil down to, "if you're miserable and isolated, try going to events and having fun!"

And I think I should be awarded $50 for every time I see one of those posts and don't leave a comment that says, "Great advice, now what am I supposed to do considering my area is experiencing the highest covid wave since fucking Omicron?"

Half the reason I'm miserable and isolated in the first place is because my household is one of the only ones I know still wearing our fucking masks. I'm tired of everyone's "let's cause a superspreader just for funsies!" horseshit.

I had to get into a screaming match with someone in my union because they were pushing for full in-person meetings again, despite rising covid cases. I have ended multiple friendships over the past four years because people I thought were my friends were angry at me for insisting on masking and staying home from bars. I will still never forget the ex-friend who told me I was being ableist about mental health because it made them really depressed and anxious to have to stay home, and meanwhile I have a household of multiply-disabled family members desperate to not get infected by the FUCKING PLAGUE.

Go breathe the fucking plague air if you want, I guess me and the other disableds are just going to have to make peace with being forgotten by the entire rest of the world. But then again, what else is new?

[y2kstratusfaction]

enemies to lovers (kinda) - 2000s randy orton x fem! reader

author's note: hiiii! 2000s randy orton has my soul, he is so fine and for what??

You've seen Randy walk around backstage, nose high up in the air, a smug smile on his face. You weren't one to judge people without talking to them first, but from the way Randy carries himself, thinking he's the greatest thing since sliced bread, it made you hate his guts.

One day, as you're preparing for your own match, you catch a glimpse of Randy leaning against a locker, chatting with Rhodes and DiBiase Jr., his personal Tweedledee and Tweedledum. His eyes lock onto yours for a moment, and that familiar arrogance glints in his gaze. You can't help but roll your eyes and continue lacing up your boots. His smirk makes your blood boil. And the fact that you can’t seem to read his intentions makes it even worse.

He’s used to getting his way with a threat of a fist to a face, but when he tried to size you up and you were less than impressed, he was caught off guard and confused. And from that moment onward, Randy made it his mission to get a reaction from you that isn’t a snide remark, a sneer, or you just flat out ignoring him.

He tried pouring tanning oil in your bag, hiding your gear, and locking you in the broom closet. But your nonchalance only made Randy go further into his temper tantrum. His words don’t do much damage either.

“If you put that much lipstick on you, your lips might fall off.” “I think it’s best if I don’t get makeup advice from a guy whose face tan doesn’t match his legs.”

Cody and Ted noticed it, and they weren’t much help to Randy’s case. They would tease him about his apparent obsession with you, and the more they prodded, the more vehemently he denied it.

"It's like you're obsessed with her or something," Cody teased one day in the locker room. "I am not!" Randy retorted defensively. "You think she’s pretty, don’t you?" Ted chimed in with a sly grin. "She is NOT pretty," Randy insisted, though his quick dismissal seemed less convincing each time.

OKAY. Maybe Randy did catch himself looking at you for a second too long, noticing if you were uncomfortable by how you furrow your brows, or how good you looked in blue. But that’s beside the point! You hated his guts, he hated yours. End of story.

That’s what he would usually tell himself. But one fateful night made him question his apparent hate towards you. You were just getting ready for your match against Lita when, waiting at the gorilla, Randy walked up to you.

"You're gonna hurt yourself without these," he says, offering you a roll of wrist tape. You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the gesture. "What's the catch?" "No catch," he replies, a hint of sincerity in his voice. "Just don't want you falling apart out there." You take the tape, a bit skeptical, but appreciative nonetheless. As you start wrapping your wrists, he lingers, watching you carefully. "There. Now you won't completely embarrass yourself," he teases. You shoot him a playful glare, surprised at the unexpected act of kindness. As he walks away, you catch him glancing back at you, a genuine smile on his lips.

Randy continued his torments afterwards, acting like nothing happened, but his words and pranks were less intense this time around. One Tuesday afternoon, Vince called you to tell you that Randy chose you to be his partner for a mixed tag match against Masters and Torrie. That was weird. Why would Randy pick you? Knowing full well that you hate him just as much as he hates you? Suspicious. You’re put on edge for the entire week until the night of the match.

Despite Randy being a hard-ass backstage, he was a far better person to work with in the ring. The match went on as planned. Low blows, eye scratches, the whole shebang. But when Randy and Masters were squabbling at each other, you notice a steel chair on the spot where Randy was supposed to take a DDT. You scramble your way to the ring, making sure to be as discreet as possible. It went unnoticed for the most part, but Randy caught wind of what you were doing. After the match, Randy called to you just before you went in your rented car and left the parking lot. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"You know," he started, "I never thought I'd say this, but you're not as terrible as I thought." You snort, your brow raised, “Wow. That’s high praise coming from you.” He chuckled, a sound that you haven’t heard before. "I mean it. Thanks for the save back there.” “It’s no problem. Can’t have the legend killer killed now, would we?” Randy leaned on the hood of your car, “Listen. Are you free tomorrow?” His voice went softer after each word he spoke. “Yeah, why? Wanna ask me out on a date or something?” You joked, waiting for his scoff. But it never came. You turn your head and meet his eyes. Randy was blushing. The sight made you want to rub your eyes to see if it’s actually real. And it is undoubtedly so. A blush of your own makes its way to your cheeks. You decided to put Randy out of his misery, “Pick me up at 7.”

You don’t give Randy the chance to react. You lean forward to kiss him on the cheek before driving off and leaving Randy in the parking lot with a dopey smile on his face.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeleton's kid pranks their dad with on of these follow the red point jumpscare video. Like this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDkAYzvZzFo

Be careful, there's a jumpscare at the end if you want to watch the video!

Undertale Sans - He doesn't even blink. He suspected something like this as his kid really really insisted on him following the point. Nice try though. The kid pouts. How hard is it to prank him? It seems nothing is working. Sans' poker face can't be beaten.

Undertale Papyrus - He screams with the lady at the end, before slowly dramatically turning towards his child, who is chuckling. Ah, ah. Very funny indeed. You're not ready for him creeping in your room in the middle of the night and suddenly screaming at your face, making you pee in your bed.

Underswap Sans - Was it supposed to scare him? He lost focus at the middle of the video and kinda missed the point of the whole thing. He smiles at his child patiently and gives them a pat of pity on the head. Sorry pal, it doesn't really work on him.

Underswap Papyrus - You try "soul attack" on Dad! It's very effective. His soul literally leaves his body and he falls on the floor, curling up in panic, hyperventilating. When he realizes it's just a stupid prank, he's so mad lol. Don't do this! You know he hates these things!

Underfell Sans - The kid turns to watch his father reaction. Red slowly turns to them, eye sockets entirely black, with a creepy smile and two huge blasters lurking behind him. The child runs away in fear, crying, as Red smirks. You call this scary? He'll show you scary. Crybaby.

Underfell Papyrus - The jumpscare triggers his fight or flight instincts and he smashes the screen at full force. His fist goes through the screen. It's not working any time soon anymore. He then starts to lecture his child, so mad.

Horrortale Sans - He hisses at the screen then hops away from it, growling angrily. He grabs his child under the arm and leaves the room backward, still growling at the screen. He's mad at the jumpscare lady thingy.

Horrortale Papyrus - .... Well that's pretty lame. You know we're not in 2005 anymore, right? You think people didn't do things like that Underground? He was an edgy prankster teenager too once, and trust him, he tried it on his brother many many times. You need to be more original than this to get him.

Swapfell Sans - He jumps in the air and runs to hide under the couch. His child is staring in awe as his father, the same who's fighting for the Queen and protecting her, goes to hide like a coward because of some random badly costumed zombie lady. The child starts to chuckle. What else can they try? They need to ask advice from Uncle Rus, who will gladly betray his brother for a nugget.

Swapfell Papyrus - As the lady screams, he turns towards the child and screams at well, scaring the hell of his own kid who didn't expect it. Rus chuckles. Yeah, he saw it already and tried it on his uncle. What did you think he did first on the internet when he left the Underground? He doesn't care about local culture, all he cares about is how he's going to be a pain in the asses of everyone.

Fellswap Gold Sans - .... That's all? You wasted his time for this? He starts to criticize the whole video and how this prank is dated and definitely not scary at all. He was scarier in the Royal Guard and he didn't need to scream like a Banshee to submit people to his will. He can teach you someday.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was expecting something way more and is kinda relieved it's just a random scream jumpscare. You know he plays a lot of horror games, right? This was predictable. Come, he will show you real jumpscares. An hour later, the child comes out of the room like he has seen war and won't sleep again for two weeks lol.

[fizzingwizard]

Randomly visited reddit and saw this:

My first thought: it's an incel pretending to be a woman, because what modern woman thinks she's spoiled milk a 30??? (Aside from also trashing her girl friends - girl, get better friends!) But their profile doesn't seem weird in any way, so, I guess there are some people out there who really somehow believe youth ends at 29. Even some who have aged past it.

It's not even true that all 30 year olds are less beautiful than they were at 20. People age in different ways at at different rates: yeah, your likelihood of getting wrinkles and gray hairs is only ever going to go up. But some people don't have their style figured out in their twenties - some people turn thirty and freaking bloom. And you can't call that a late bloomer. 40 isn't a late bloomer either! 20 is nice but it's not the heaven on earth it's cracked up to be, and 30 is just getting started.

Idk about the rest of you but you know those posts about how embarrassing it is to look back on 14? Yeah, related to those when I was 20. Now I've passed the big 3-0, and guess what - I think 20 year old me was so silly lol. So insecure, so afraid to make mistakes, so resistant to change. I enjoyed my twenties, but my early thirties have so far been way better: I'm more confident, less self-involved, and I find happiness so much more easily than I did back when I thought everything I did had to matter So Damn Much. And if you think that doesn't relate to being attractive: confidence is 90% of it. Just walk up and smile. A confident, happy person always attracts others even if they're just average-looking.

Also for people who like men, don't forget: men in their 30s usually aren't quite the energizer bunnies they were in their 20s when it comes to ~sexy times~ The 20-year-old stud who insisted he could go for a roll multiple times a day, every day, is probably much less gung ho at 30. And also more forward-thinking, and less amaaaaazed by omg boobies!!! When you're young, half the excitement is just how new everything is. It gets less intense, thank goodness. (But it's still hot!)

This post just totally rubbed me the wrong way. It read as a still young woman anxiously wringing her hands in apology for having the audacity to be single at... 30?? And apparently not trusting women to have good advice about dating at 30 (so no point in me responding to her, lol), but perfectly comfortable kissing up to incel mindsets such as "women past 25 should accept that they're sloppy seconds" etc. "Value as a partner" do you have intrinsic worth as a human being?? Yes??? Then your value does NOT degrade. Yeah, you might have gray hair, the horror, so unsexy (I've had very visible grays since I was 23 and been dyeing since 26 lmao). Doesn't mean you're less hot than some 20 year old who doesn't know what she's doing. Doesn't mean it'll be at all hard to find a partner who will love you warts and all. Do you have this same expectation of men? Are you gonna start dating a 30 year old dude and then complain that he gets tired more quickly than a 20 year old would?? Is he less sexy just because he doesn't party all night and drink twice his weight without effect? Overrated overrated overrated!

My parents divorced in their 60s. My mom's got a new boyfriend who takes her dancing under the full moon. They're living their best lives way past their so-called "prime" and no, that is not rare - it's just a choice. If you view yourself as having some expiration date, you're not gonna do anything to improve your happiness once you're past it. Don't let incels or misogyny or whatever convince you your perfectly wholesome milk has gone bad, because that is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

ETA: Well, while I was working this got 150 notes, and although that's barely a drop in the bucket, it's still a lot more than my rants usually get (about 2 lol). So I just want to clarify a couple things so I stop getting comments about them.

This post was from the askmen subreddit. I left that out, feeling "reddit" was context enough, but I guess the implications may not have been obvious, especially to tumblr users who don't also use reddit. Askmen isn't a horrible place (a number of the responders pointed out why they prefer older women to younger ones), but many of its members have a pretty incel-adjacent vibe. Plus there are a number of women (real or not) who post there, many of whom have a similar brown-nosey "unlike those radical feminists, I'm a woman who knows her place" attitude.

It's fine to suggest the OP may have internalized misogyny from being abused - but it's not a given, as nothing in the post is a definite indication of abuse by itself. Big kudos for the compassion - just keep in mind that my response was about general attitudes towards dating post-twenties and not about abuse victims.

To the person who thinks a relationship of six years makes a difference somehow?: You seem to have interpreted my post as an attack on people who feel insecure about returning to dating after a breakup. But I think it's clearly nothing to do with that. Of course it is natural to have anxieties about being single after so long, but nowhere in this post was that denied or mocked. Whether you've been together one year or six, this post would always be weird - those natural anxieties don't make misogynistic mindsets about decrepit 30-year-old women any less gross. If you had decided to write a reaction to the OP's post, perhaps you would have chosen to center it on the effects of coming off a long term relationship, and I'm sure it'd be insightful. However, I am not you, and I chose to react to the attitudes around aging in relationships reflected in the post.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #5] The Bet

warnings: alcohol, clubbing, jaykay is always behind the bar :(, jimin is up to no good, i luv the glitter girlies

soundtrack: playlist for this chapter

wc: 6.6k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

It's ten o'clock in the evening before you finally commit to going out. 

The idea had been floated as soon as you arrived home to varying responses ("Leave me alone to DIE. This hangover is too brutal. Don't ask me again. No." / "Again? Thought you'd never ask! What are we wearing?"), but over a mildly disappointing pasta dinner, and a couple of glasses of white wine, it had taken Hoseok's party playlist less than a minute to get you all saying "fuck it."

He was still complaining - and likely would be until you reached the club - but he was also holding up two different shirts to his bare torso asking for your advice. "Green or black?"

Both satin, they actually belonged to Danbi, but he hadn't wanted to go home, instead opting to just mooch about at your place after work. It was far closer to town than his - why he wasted rent on the expensive suburb of the city was beyond you - and had become his home away from home in recent months, especially following the breakup.

Realistically, you knew he rented in that area because his ex had liked the lake it was near, and that going home just reminded him of her - so you chose not to moan whenever he overstayed his welcome. It didn't happen often, but he was becoming more and more reliant on the pair of you to settle his stomach when he couldn't eat, thanks to his heartbreak seemingly consuming his own stomach.

The disappointing pasta had been his request. Spaghetti aglio e olio, except Danbi had been the one in charge as you were still on your way back from retrieving your phone, and had apparently used sesame oil instead of olive oil. Still, your tummies were full, and there were smiles on your faces. What more could you ask for?

"I'm wearing black tonight," you tell him. "We can twin."

"Okay, so I'm going with green," he quips back, throwing you a quick smile as he tosses the black shirt in your direction. You catch it, bundling it in your hands to hold it close. Danbi laughs. You curse him out.

"Asswipe."

"I'm kidding," he insists. "Gimmie back the black shirt back. We can twin!"

"No," you huff, though it's all in good jest. You hold it tighter, hugging it into your chest and lying back down in the heap of pillows on your bed. "Take your green shirt and fuck off, you little gremlin."

"Do you want me to come out tonight or not?" he haggles, knowing that he's about to get a death glare thanks to the threat he's teasing.

Your eyes narrow, and just like that, he's one glance away from the afterlife. Thinks death wouldn't be so bad as long as he has his best friends with him.

"Say sorry," you scowl.

"I'm sorry," he coos as walks to your bed and collapses ontop of you, squishing you in the process. His bare chest is over your face, his skin hot and clammy against yours - but no matter how much you scramble beneath him to try and push him off, he remains firmly stuck in place - and will do until you tap out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

You wriggle away from him - just enough to tell him to 'get the fuck off' if he wants the shirt back - and he rolls over you until his back is on your legs. The shirt meets his chest as you chuck it in his direction with a small laugh. "You're such a cock."

His arms hug the shirt into his chest, much like yours did a moment previously. He smiles. "You love it."

"I love it when you get off me so I can get ready."

"Oh give over, you've been sat on your arse for the past fifteen minutes doing nothing."

"And now I want to get ready, so just let me," you protest and begin to nudge your legs beneath him. He relents, getting to his feet as he threads his arms through the sleeves, while you pull a dress from your clothing rail.

It's much like his shirt - black satin and far too sexy for its own good. You've a point to prove. You are not a disco ball - but you still find yourself reaching for your glitter liner, because you actually feel a little bit lost without it these days.

See, your ex had always hated it. Hated glitter on his pillows, hated finding glitter on his shirts. Somehow, you'd always hoped he'd be endeared by it. Little reminders of you that would catch in the sunlight. Thought it'd have him thinking about you every time the sun shone just right.

Instead, he'd sigh whenever he saw you doing your makeup - especially on nights out.

You wear it like a suit of armour, now. He didn't want you? Fine. You didn't want his shitty opinions about your glitter-inclined makeup choices.

In a way, it feels like payback.

Realistically, it's not. You know it's not. He's none the wiser. Is probably happy to not be finding small holographic chunks on his blazers. Will most likely rule girls who wear glitter out of his dating pool. His loss. Glitter gals are always the most fun, you think, as you coat your eyes in a layer that is, admittedly, comparable to a disco ball.

Secretly, you don't think you'll mind if Jeongguk mentions it tonight. In fact, if you're being honest, you kind of hope he will.

You try not to dwell on the idea of him, not wanting to centre your night around the chance you might spot him at the bar, but as soon as you're in Dionysus, Hoseok insists on getting a drink.

"I need those Purple motherfuckers, or whatever the fuck they are, in my system ASAP."

"Starfuckers," you correct him with a giggle, clasping onto the back of his shirt as he weaves through the crowd. Danbi's fingers are interlaced with yours, palms clammy from the heat of the bar. It's full tonight - about double the crowd that was in the night before - and you try and pretend like you're not looking for Jeongguk when your elbows are finally perched up on the granite worktop.

It's not really granite. Cheap imitation. Like most things in this place - the faux leather furnishings, the bottom shelf vodka decanted into grey goose bottles, the people - it's fake.

One thing isn't though - and that's the smile on Jeongguk's face when he notices you.

You're not looking in his direction. Your friend - the guy from the night before, who Jeongguk now knows to be Jung Hoseok (thanks to his mild Instagram stalk) - is whispering something in your ear as you look at the alcohol behind the bar. The music is loud, and it's not unusual to have to converse like that, so he thinks nothing of it. Even he has to lean over the bar occasionally to be able to hear people's orders. Just part and parcel of a place like this.

There's sticky residue all over the bar, but you don't care, already a little tipsy and ignorant to how filthy it really is. Your arms are bare, the dress held up by thin straps that hook over your shoulders and criss-cross down your back, tying in a dainty little bow around the back of your waist.

"You get this round, I'll get the next," Hoseok practically shouts into your ear, his hand on your shoulder. You both know that neither of you will keep track. You never do. It's not like it matters - your friendship isn't transactional.

There are a few more people working behind the bar than last night. You don't spot him, but Jeongguk is up at the far end. That's his section; the area that gets the most traffic, so is by default where he is assigned. The rest of the staff are slightly younger - only by a year or so, but it means he has the most bar experience.

Your section - not that you're aware of these invisible parameters - is defined by the Jäger cooler and Coca-Cola fountain. Punters waiting to order between those two points fall into section two, which is manned tonight by Yeonjun. You recognise his hair, bright and blue, almost immediately.

He doesn't recognise you at first. Barely remembers you. He sees hundreds of people come through this god-forsaken place every night. It's not like you were anything special - just another girl in a pretty dress who'd had a few too many.

Yet when you put through your order for six Purple Starfuckers - two each - his lips lift. The way they curve would almost be sinister if it wasn't for the boyish charm he was exuding, so casually flippant in the way he raises his brows. He's a heartbreaker if you ever did see one.

"Oi, Gguk," he bellows over to the end of the bar. "This one's for you."

Jeongguk's eyes quickly glance down to Yeonjun at the sound of his name, barely audible above the sound of the music in the venue. The bass throbs through the atmosphere, and it makes it hard to pay attention to anything.

Yet when he skims over to see you at the other end of the bar, he can't seem to focus on anything else but you, regardless of the noise.

He holds his index finger up, points it to the sky and twirls it around, to indicate his desire to switch poisitons - of which Yeonjun happily obliges with. The position change won't be for long, but Yeonjun doesn't mind the faster pace of Jeongguk's section. If anyone is gonna take Jeongguk's rank after he finally gets a 'real' job, it's Yeonjun.

Patting Yeonjun's shoulder as he walks past, Jeongguk approaches you with a raised brow. You don't hear him, but you can read his lips as he says, "Maybe, eh?"

There are dimples hidden in his cheeks, only noticeable when the club lights hit him just right. Shadows form on his face - the ridges on his forehead and crease between his brows, too. There's an exuberance to a face so intricate with a smile so simple. It says 'Hi. Good to see you again. How have you been?' without even so much as uttering a single word.

"It's the Purple Starfuckers," you beam as you lean a little further over the bar to make sure he can hear you. "That's all I'm here for."

You're on your tippy toes, balancing on the bar with your elbows. Hoseok and Danbi are behind you, singing the words of an old Shinee song - 'noona neomu yeppeooooo' - at each other with far more aggression than is really needed. By the second chorus, they're replacing 'noona' with each other's names, and you know it's gonna be one of those nights.

One of the good ones.

Just a single song in, and the throwback theme isn't disappointing. Perhaps Jeongguk had been right to brag about it. Your hands are folded together, chin resting prettily on them, with as many stars in your eyes are there are pieces of glitter on your eyelids.

"Still look like a disco ball," he tells you, and asks for your order before you have a chance to oppose - only for him to be the one protesting in the end. "SIX?!"

"Six," you say with a smile so cheeky he almost gets flustered. Almost. You don't notice, too busy tipsy-giggling at his shock.

"You'll run the bar dry."

"That's a 'you' problem."

"Will be a 'you' problem when I'm out of amaretto," he tells you, as if he doesn't know there's a case full of it in the barrel room. It's more fun this way. More fun when he can flirt - of which he'd argue he isn't doing. He's just keeping relations with the patrons sweet. Ensures repeat visits. You're case in point.

"I'll just run to the shop and get you some more," you assure him, your teeth cushioned on your bottom lip as you watch him pour the shots with ease.

Purple Starfuckers were the first semi-complex shot he'd mastered, simply because he enjoyed the name - didn't care so much for how sweet they were. You seem to like them though, so maybe he should try them again someday. See if his tastes have changed.

He won't bore you with the fact that Amaretto is an import that's pretty hard to come by in the city, and that he has to have it shipped in specifically - and even then, he's only permitted to buy limited quantities of it. Shit's like gold dust around these parts.

The fact he was giving you it on the house last night? Yeah. He doesn't do that for just anyone. Doesn't know why he did it for you. Didn't really think about it, just like he didn't really think about letting Jimin know you'd left your phone at their place in the early hours of the morning.

You make Jeon Jeongguk - chronic overthinker, mild worrier, intense daydreamer - stop thinking, and that - if he were to be thinking, would say - is very dangerous.

And so he charges you this time. There's no resistance from you, even if they are a little more expensive than you had first realised. If anything, you feel bad for how many you got on the house the night before.

Your body twists as you call your friends to attention, and Jeongguk pretends to not look you up and down.

From his end of the bar, Yeonjun glances over at just the right time and doesn't hold back a small laugh. He'll tease Jeongguk about it later - "She went home with them again, man. Sorry but she's got the best of both worlds. You're shit out of luck." - and continue naively believing that Jeongguk was telling the truth when he said that Hoseok had gone home with both girls last night.

Ten thousand won had been slid across the bar to Yeonjun as he was setting up earlier that evening, green and weathered, creased from Jeongguk's front pocket. Not a word was heard from him as he walked on by, Yeonjun too smug with his win to bother asking questions about the end of the night before.

He was none the wiser that you'd finished your night in Jeongguk's apartment - even if it wasn't with Jeongguk, and even if you didn't actually finish at all.

The club is full capacity by the time two AM hits.

Jeongguk is working flat out, punters left and right after more drinks, all wanting to be served first so they can get back to the dancefloor - which is exactly where you are. Hoseok and Danbi have both been to the bar within the last hour, but not you. They order your drinks for you, never from Jeongguk - they always seem to end up at Yeonjun's section - and carry them back into the crowd.

He's no idea where you are; who you're with. Figures maybe Jimin's already found you tonight. Spends a fair while running through scenarios in his head. Pours vodka cokes while he's thinking about what he'll say if you fell over the sitting room sidetable again tonight. He made sure to leave the lamp on before he left, and knows damn well Jimin won't have turned it off. At least if you do end up back at their place, you won't make the same mistake.

His favourite scenario - the one he keeps going back to - is one where you're at the club till the end of the night. You grab food on your way home - but because it's the end of the night, only one place is open and queues take a little while. By the time he's closed up the club and is on his way home, you'll be in your taxi, too.

Jimin will show you in, but Jeongguk'll already be there. He'll be in the kitchen - hasn't decided yet if he'll be nursing a drink of his own or just making food. In some renditions of the scenario he is, some he isn't. And then you'll get to talking, and Jimin will get impatient. Then, Jimin will do as Jimin does when he's one too many - fall asleep.

He's not really sure why he doesn't want you to fuck Jimin again. He doesn't know you. By that metric, he can't possibly know how well suited you and Jimin may be.

That's exactly the issue, though. Jeongguk doesn't want you. It's the scenarios in his head that he wants; the what ifs. At present, you're a perception. You've potential to be absolutely anything.

You're not the first person he's been like this about. Admittedly, you're the first he's found in his apartment at just gone five in the morning stumbling form Jimin's room, but that's neither here nor there.

"Get a grip," he berates himself beneath his breath as he hooks a plastic Jägerbomb tumbler below the dispenser. The dark liquor fills the centre as he reaches over for the half-used can of red bull, pouring it in without much thought, crumpling the can as it reaches the dregs. He tosses the warped can into the 'discards' tray behind the bar, ready to take out on the next recycling run.

The way Jeongguk serves drinks comes so naturally to him that he almost thinks that this is 'it' for him; that he'll be stuck behind the bar of Dionysus until he's grey. Hopes that isn't the case - but he hopes for a lot. Is never really proactive in turning dreams into realities.

When you finally make your way to the bar a little while later, Jeongguk hasn't thought about you for at least fifteen minutes. A new record - and you're there just in time to ruin it.

There's a sheen to your cheeks, and he notices that you've just as much shimmer there as you have glitter on your eyes. Always sparkling. Always shining. Begging for attention - and those who ask shall recieve.

"Disco Ball," he teases. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's ignorant to the fact there's other people waiting to be served. He'll get to them eventually.

Narrowing your eyes, you can feel the tightness of the dried glitter on your eyelids, but you pretend as if it's nothing. "I'm not a disco ball."

"Sure you're not," he smirks." What can I get you?"

You intake a sharp breath, debating your choices. Hoseok's on malibu and lemonade, Danbi's on anything she can get her hands on - so you order three of Hoseok's choice.

There's no chatter as he makes your drinks. The club is too loud. There's too many distractions. He's fast as he works, limiting your interaction time - but it's not like he actively wants to prolong it. The longer you actually spend in one another's company, the less of an illusion you become.

Your chin is resting ontop of your hands again, eyes a little bleary from the drinks and god-awful smoke machine, your card suspended between two fingers. He slides the drinks across the counter and pinches the card from you with a small smile, eyes almost as warm as yours. You've an excuse though. You're drunk.

He's just delusional. Has this idea of you. Of what you could be. But it makes him feel all warm, too.

It's funny, cause if you knew this, you'd steer clear. The idea of anyone having expectations of you makes you want to run for the hills. The last man who'd had expectations of you was thoroughly disappointed.

He rings up your total - only charges you for the liquor, doesn't add the lemonade to the bill - and processes your payment.

"You alright with all those?" He asks as he goes to hand back your card, nodding towards the drinks. Your hands are already full, holding the three cups in a triangle formation, fingers outstretched as far as they can possibly go. You nod, but realise there's nowhere for your card - so part you lips and put your head forward a little.

"Card," you say, showing your teeth. He rolls his eyes with a grin and he puts it between them, knowing that it's probably not the most orthodox way to deal with a punter, but who fucking cares? No harm, no foul.

With that, you're back off to the dancefloor. A good amount of your drinks are spilt on the way, your legs a little damp from one particularly bad splash, but nothing you haven't experienced before. Clubs like these are always a little sordid - a little sticky. Sweaty. Sinful.

And as Park Jimin catches your eye in the crowd, you're proven right once more.

They say that hips don't lie, and while this tends to be true, it's not always the case.

Jimin has great hips. Can move them expertly on the dancefloor and beside the desk in his bedroom, or so you've found out - but he also left you a little high and dry, so you're compelled to reciprocate such treatment.

Bodies are crammed together on the dancefloor, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. There's no room to breathe, let alone actually have a conversation of any substance, so Jimin comes in close, and you don't mind. His breath is hot against your ear as he asks, "back again?"

You laugh in such a way that you only do when you're drunk - if sober you ever witnessed it, she'd cringe so hard she'd break a couple vertebrae. One of your wrists anchors itself on his shoulder, his hand coming to your waist to keep you close.

"Couldn't stay away," you flirt, and it's true, even if it's not for the reasons he'll choose to believe.

"You want a drink?" he asks, because that seems to be the only way men know how get a girl to talk to them in places like these. You hold up your malibu and lemonde, which is half empty already and shrug. He gently takes it from you, and swallows it down. Gone within a second. He smiles. Looks incredibly pleased with himself. You're looking at him with a wide jaw, brows furrowed together in surprise. "So, drink?"

And you laugh-nothing else you can do but accept.

"Yeah," you smile, lips against his ear, gloss tickling his lobe. "Drink."

He holds your hand through the crowd, not for any deeper reason than to make sure he doesn't lose you, and heads in Jeongguk's direction - because of course he does. Why would he go elsewhere?

Jeongguk avoids Jimin's curious eyes when the first thing he does is slide a plastic cup of water in your direction.

"She needs it," Jeongguk simply says. He can sense that Jimin is about to question him, so he doesn't let it happen. "Been serving her all night. Trust me. She needs it."

"You don't know what I need," you argue, as if your fingers aren't curling around the ice cold cup of water, head leaning over the counter to sip from it instead of actually bringing to your lips. "I'm fine."

Jeongguk folds his arms and raises his brows, head tilting slightly. His eyes are on Jimin. Told you so.

He just rolls his eyes. Asks what you're drinking. Tells Jeongguk to make two more.

Behind the bar, Jeongguk takes a second to unfold his arms, before he does as he's told. He's served people in far worse states than you. He also knows that Jimin is just as fucked as you. There's no imbalance of power or advantage to be taken, so he simply makes a second water for Jimin, before starting on the actual drinks.

"I'm honestly fine," you insist again when Jeongguk slides the new drink your way without his signature smile.

He looks at Jimin a little sternly, then looks at you. His expression softens, but you're both too drunk to really notice. "Yeah, sure you are. Bet you're gonna be at the gym bright and early tomorrow, aren't you?"

Your smile broadens, a laugh stuttering in your diaphragm. "You don't wanna make bets with me, Jeon. I always win."

It's at this point Jimin gets a little confused. He doesn't even think you remember his name, so has no idea how the fuck you know Jeongguk's family name of all things.

Even Jeongguk is a little surprised. "Jeon? Someone's been stalking my Instagram."

If you weren't absolutely fucked, you'd be embarrassed - but you are fucked, so instead, you give him a taste of his own medicine. "Says the guy who managed to track me down via my best friend's Instagram? And I'm the stalker?"

"I run the club's Instagram," he shrugs, smiling as he talks, a little smug. "You know how many stories Hoseok tagged us in?!"

You don't. Jeongguk doesn't give you a chance to answer, either way.

"38. Thirty-fucking-eight in one night," he says in such a way that you can't help but laugh.

It's so Hoseok that it hurts. You just know that he'll have watched them all in the morning with a groan and look of disgust on his face, checking who watched them, and deleting them all one by one out of sheer embarrassment. They'd already been wiped by the time you got your phone back.

Something that hadn't been wiped, though?

Jeongguk's follow request for your Instagram. You still haven't accepted it, much to his own embarrassment, but now he knows you've looked through his feed, he finds a little pleasure in it.

Jimin doesn't know what the fuck is going on and so Jeongguk explains - "we go to the same gym" - as if it makes a single difference, or as if that's even strictly true. He doesn't understand how that led to a weird battle of who's the biggest Instagram stalker, but he doesn't question it either. Might ask about it later in the night, but will likely forget.

You offer to pay, but Jimin says it's cool, he's got it - but he doesn't get out his card. Jeongguk rings it up on the till, prints the receipt and staples it to a wad of paper by the back wall.

"You get a tab?!"

"Perks of living with the bar manager," Jimin smirks, which has you glancing over to Jeongguk once more with narrow eyes. You're about to be offended, but he doesn't let you be.

"Don't pretend like you've never had anything on the house," he challenges.

What you're unaware of is the fact that you haven't paid full price with Jeongguk, well, ever. Even the Purple Starfuckers earlier were put through with a staff discount. Only 10%, but enough to get him in trouble with the bar owner if they ever found out - which they won't. As long as the bar turns a profit, they don't care to check the books.

"Touché."

Jeongguk shoos you both away - "I have a job to do, yanno." - so he can deal with more punters.

It won't be the last time you're at the bar that evening. You both know it.

Despite Jimin's best efforts, you shake him off after a song or two. You're not interested in hooking up tonight, and Danbi and Hoseok look like they're having far more fun letting loose to an old-school Galantis song than you are, pretending as if it could go anywhere with Jimin.

As much as you'd love to him give him a chance to rectify last night's faux pas, you're also highly aware of a smug Jeongguk saying 'it's never a one-time thing.' You don't want to prove him right.

And so you dance the night away with your best friends instead, without a care in the world.

You're actually trying to pace yourself now. Could feel yourself getting a little too drunk. You've a glass of water in one hand, Danbi's hand in the other. The lights flash above you, reds and greens, in time with whatever club classic is playing, and you vaguely remember Jeongguk promise of being able to make whatever request you like for the music.

You pull Danbi a little closer, practically shout in her ear that you're going to the bathroom and plant a kiss on the side of her head before you depart. You don't need her to go with you - nowhere feels safer to you than the girl's toilets on a night out.

There's a sense of solidarity to be found in there; the pitter patter of heels on damp floors, while other girls fix the zips on strangers' dresses. They wipe away the tears of the poor girlies who had to watch the boys they fancy leave with someone else, and occasionally shout 'wait, wait! toilet paper!' when someone is about to go back into the club with loo roll on their sole. It's heaven in the most hellish of places.

No wonder the ladies' bathroom attracts only angels; but angels can fall. Even the Devil was an angel, once.

You spot her as you're wiping a knuckle beneath your eye in the mirror, clearing your smudged mascara. She's dressed to the nines in a bodycon dress that hugs her in all the right places. You've always hated the style, but she manages to make it look good.

"Oh shit," you blurt out, drunk tongue voicing your thoughts before you have the chance to process them. There's a smile on your face, and a little dizziness in your eyes as you lean against the counter. "Jiyeong, right? From the gym?"

When she turns to look at you, there's surprise on her pretty features. A little confusion. Certainly not happiness, but not disgust, either. She manages to feign friendliness, though, a smile shining through the cloudiness in her eyes. "Oh hey! You're from earlier, right?"

"Right, right," you nod, horrified at the idea you've been classed as the 'girl from the gym' not once but twice tonight. Not the legacy you want, nor the legacy you expect you will carry with you, but one that, for now, seems to be sticking.

"Oh right," she smiles again, a little awkwardly, clearly not wanting to engage.

She's been on vodka and slimline tonic all night, and the lack of sugar has made the alcohol stew in her system in a less than pleasant manner. Or maybe she's just always like this. She's about to leave when she notices your phone screen flash on the counter out of the corner of her eye. There's no subtlety in the way she reads the notification, and even less in the way she addresses it.

"Careful. He's bad news."

You follow her eyes to your screen.

JustJK: Half an hour until final orders, btw.

JustJK: Also means only an hour left to make requests.

JustJK: If I'm not at the bar, tell the dude with blue hair what you want, say I said it's okay.

JustJK: Actually no scrap that, just message me your requests.

It's a friendly warning, granted, but part of you feels as if she's not really warning you about him. More like she's warning you off him.

"Bad news?" you hum, almost as if you believe her - but then you smile and turn to leave. "Just my type."

You're not actively interested in him, but the way she spoke to you at the gym, the way she's trying to get under your skin pisses you off. She's a grown adult. If she wants Jeongguk, she can use her big girl words and tell you herself. You don't know her. You don't owe her jack shit. And so you tell her to 'have a goodnight', and head straight for the bar.

"Disco Ball," he greets you with that shit-eating smile of his. Maybe he is bad news. A bad decision - but you've got a habit of making those. Why stop now?

"Starfucker," you reply, to which he finds himself running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. A smile forms on his pretty lips. A smile forms on yours, too. It's all very vomit-inducing. Sickly sweet. Nauseating - but you're drunk, so you don't care. "You mentioned requests? I have a request."

It's less of a request, more of a solution to your desperate need for a sing-along with your besties, as if the entire night hasn't been that.

"Go for it."

"Love Story."

"Taylor Swift?"

"Uh-huh - but it has to be Taylor's version. If you don't play Taylor's version, I... Well, I don't know what I'll do... But, like, it won't be good."

The bar is a hell of a lot quieter now - only a couple hundred people compared to the easy thousand that had been there during the rush. He takes his time to assess your threat, and nods as if he believes you'll deliver on it.

"Taylor's Version..." he hums, before leaning on the bar to match your energy. "Alright. I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening."

"I'll play Taylors version but... the bet we made about the gym earlier," he says as if you remember fuck all about earlier conversations. The bet had never really been struck - but you don't entirely remember that. "I'll play Taylor's version as a preemptive reward for you winning the bet."

"So...?" You question. He'd never said that requests came with conditions - but you're intrigued by his need to challenge you.

"So, it means you have to win. There's no choice in the matter. You have to go to the gym tomorrow, nice and early, and prove me wrong."

Your eyes narrow like they so often do in his presence - unimpressed but also a little enthused. There's something about him that you enjoy. Something about him you'd like to keep enjoying.

But you're an argumentative little shit when you want to be.

"I don't know you, but I hate you."

He'd take offence, but you're too alike. He'd likely say something similar in your position. Can't be mad. So instead he just smiles, club lights catching on his dainty silver lip ring as he does so.

"Just you wait until you do know me. Then you'll really hate me."

"Wanna make a bet on that too?"

"I can't refuse a good bet."

"Gambling will get you in trouble," you remind him. He works in the nightlife entertainment industry. He probably knows where to find all the illegal gambling places in the city. Wouldn't be surprised if there was one beneath the bar you're in right now.

"I'm a gambling man," he says and it's not technically a lie - he just doesn't gamble in a way that would get him in any trouble with the law. He doesn't clarify, though. Just lets you draw your own conclusions.

And he probably shouldn't have, because you just conclude that he's stupid.

"You're a fool."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball," he pouts, holding his hand to his heart as if your words actually carry any weight.

"You'd hate it if I wasn't, Starfucker," you beam as you back away from the bar, holding his gaze. "Don't fuck the request up! Taylor's version!"

"I never do!" He shouts after you as you walk away, lost to the club once more.

Part of him knows you'll be back within the next five minutes, Hoseok and Danbi in toe, with an endless slew of requests from your trio. You'll waste so much time thinking of what to ask for that you'll miss them all being played.

It takes just a millisecond for Hoseok to know exactly what's playing.

Danbi realises as soon as Hoseok takes his Taylor Swift stance - one that she does on stage, of which he's adapted into his own lipsyncing repertoire.

"Shut up," she shouts, elongating her words with a squeal, not actually wanting anyone to shut up. She's just happy.

Their faces - yours included - light up like the fourth of July, brandishing everyone within a metre radius of your trio in the most infectious shades of gold. You're enigmatic; the life, the soul, the party.

There's a smile on Danbi's drunken face as you take her hands and begin to dance with her - not that Hoseok lets you enjoy it without him. He inserts himself, like he always does, and the three are you are lost to your own world on the dancefloor.

It's moments like these that make the next day's hangover worth it. Hoseok hasn't thought about his ex all evening, and that's honestly all that you and Danbi had wanted. You needed him to know that life goes on without his ex; and that it can actually be pretty damn good.

No matter how many drinks have been spilt on your shoes and covered your toes, nor drunken cigarettes have been smoked out in the designated area (despite telling yourself you don't actually smoke), nothing can dampen a mood like this.

The DJ mixes the music into a Macklemore song you haven't heard since you were twenty, and it's as if you haven't aged a day. It may have only been a few years, but time has weathered you. Your ex - older, more mature - had aged you. Finally, it was feeling like you were back in your reckless youth.

Flirting with cute boys, hooking up with strangers, spending all your time in a state of not quite sober with your best friends... yeah. You're back.

And it's for that reason why, when Jimin approaches you towards the end of the night, you simply smile and say 'not tonight'. It's not about proving a point anymore, but more so because you don't want find to comfort in anyone - let alone a fuck boy from a bar. They're fine for one night, but once you make a habit, it's so much easier to form an addiction.

He respectfully taps out, tells you to have a good night, and seeks out someone - anyone - who is looking for a mildly disappointing shag.

By the time the bar closes, the three of you trundle home together, walking to the taxi rank with shoes off, makeup smudged, covered in glitter. You've crashed, but there's something beautiful about the wreckage.

And yet come seven minutes past eleven the next morning, there's something incredibly dreadful about the Instagram notification that pings through to your phone.

JustJK: loser.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[writergeekrhw]

hi!! i'm sorry if you've gotten similar questions before, but i'm very curious. i've thought about going into writing for television but i don't know where to start, and i also don't want to cross picket lines/scab. do you have any advice?

Well, picket lines aren't a problem anymore, so...

Learn - Watch your favorite shows and movies. Break them down into structure. You can outline as you watch. Scene, Time of Day, Actions, Who Says What. Read great books, consider taking a class on TV writing at someplace reputable online (UCLA Extension is really good). Read about basic screenplay structure and format.

Write - Write the following: 2 spec pilots, 1 episode of an established show that's currently on the air. Maybe a feature. (You probably should buy Final Draft at this point)

Apply for programs: There are studio writing programs that train writers. Getting into one of these can definitely help. Here's a list: Fellowship & Writing Programs for Screenwriters Masterlist — The Writers Guild Foundation (wgfoundation.org)

Keep writing. I had a teacher tell me it took 10 scripts to get good. Have you written 10 full scripts? If no, keep writing. If yes, keep writing.

Consider moving to Los Angeles. Los Angeles is where you can get work as a Writers P.A. or Assistant. That's how you'll get to know writers. It's much harder to do that if you're not in L.A. But also keep in mind that Los Angeles is a very expensive city and you'll probably have to work a civilian job to survive until you get a showbiz one and that it can cost $1500/month just for a room in a shared apartment. So... consider...

Network with peers. Network with fellow aspiring writers you meet in your classes/online/etc. Join a writers group. Be a great person. Help each other. Hopefully you and your peers will all rise together and you'll be able to help each other out once you start getting jobs.

Keep writing. Never stop writing new things.

Rise through the ranks. Hopefully you'll get a Writers P.A. job at some point. Be a good person. Work hard. Make a good impression. Get promoted to either Writers Room Assistant or Showrunner's Assistant. Have a show that goes multiple years. Have your boss (eventually, don't rush it) read your amazing sample which she'll hopefully love. Get a script assignment in a later season. Write an amazing script. Have show go ANOTHER season, get promoted to Staff Writer. CONGRATULATIONS! You've made it.

Keep going. You need to continue to get promoted and staffed for multiple seasons to have a stable career and even then, it'll never stop being a hustle.

ALTERNATIVE PATH: Write the most amazing novel/play/youtube thing/graphic novel/podcast ever and have that optioned into a series and insist on being on staff as a condition of sale.

WARNING: Results are not guaranteed. The odds are NOT in your favor. Try at own risk. Los Angeles is expensive and breaks people. It can take 5-10 years from first script to first job. Or never. Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. Objects in the Rearview Mirror are Farther Away Than They Appear. Read about Survivorship Bias before taking any showbiz advice from anyone.

[4dkellysworld]

How do I get full conviction that I am not the body? Do I just keep going to the idea that I am not the body until I become aware of it?

Yes you can try that and it has worked for some while for others it has not because the habit and belief that we are the body is something we've held for a very very long time and it's not easy to just drop it (especially if you are fresh on this path) even if we insist and try hard to do so.

Personally I changed my practices based on my own intuition on what felt right, I never just stuck to particular ones. Whatever I did was what was needed at the time. The first practice I tried after getting serious about this path was just witnessing and deciding I wasn't the body but that didn't work so I gave that up and moved onto dropping ego concepts and other things but several months later, I was in a place where I was able to practice witnessing and not identify with the body.

Honestly, I don't know what to advise you because there are so many different paths to self-realization; it all depends on what resonates and works for you and I don't know you to advise you on what practice or path to take. I don't want you to get disheartened and feel like giving up if I suggest a practice and it isn't right for you. You know yourself best. This is something you need to figure out on your own. Let your Self guide you to what is right for you. My only advice or direction is to point to what Robert Adams says: do whatever you must to quiet the mind. When the mind is quieted enough, the Self is there and self-obvious.

Lester: When the mind is quieted enough, It's there. It's the "I" that I am, that's It. There's nothing closer to you than that. Most of the time you are seeking It out there, through a body, and It isn't out there; It's the "I" in here, that is the infinite Being. Holding only that question is not easy and therefore I suggest holding it in general. Get in the habit of always seeking what you are, no matter what method you're using. And when quietness of mind comes, to the degree that there's no other thought on your mind but "What am I?" this stilling of all the other thoughts makes your Self self-obvious to you. It's right there where you are, wherever you are, right where the "I" is. So again, hold that question, no matter what method you use, until the answer shows itself, until it becomes obvious. Q: It seems very hard. Lester: It's hard to let go of the habit of thinking every moment that you are a limited body. We're just bombarding ourselves all the time with the thought: I am a body; I am a body; I am a body. This goes on all the time so that we don't see the infinite Being that we are. It's a constant bombardment of: I am a body with involvement. Meditation is an attempt to quiet the mind by holding one thought so that other thoughts die away. By holding that one thought, if we can get to the place where just that one thought is there, that's enough quieting to see the infinite Being that we are. There isn't a method that doesn't try to effect the quieting of the mind so that the infinite Being that we are can become self-obvious. from Session 31: The Game - Keys to the Ultimate Freedom by Lester Levenson

[ikeromantic]

Ikevamp Boys React to Tattooed MC pt 2

Theo, Vincent, and Mozart!

Theo

Theo grabs your arm as you set down a frame in the small gallery where the next art show will be hosted. His grip is firm and insistent.

"What?" You raise an eyebrow, more curious than annoyed.

His other hand tips your chin to the left so that he can examine the side of your head and that's when you realize. He's noticed your tattoo. "Hondje, what did you do?" His voice is lethally soft, ungentle and demanding.

"I've had that since before I met you." You pull from his grip. "Anyway, it's none of your business."

"Everything about you is my business." He catches your hand in his and pulls you close. "Tell me."

You sigh. "Fine. I wanted a tattoo when I decided to go straight to work instead of college. Something to show I trusted myself. So . . . I got that star. Because I am my own guide and I choose things for myself."

Theo's severe expression doesn't shift as he tucks your hair back to get a better look at it. His breath tickles your skin. "Mmm. Fits you. Stubborn girl. Never listen to anybody."

"Hey!" You smack his shoulder. "I do when the advice is worth my time."

He laughs. "Is that so?"

"It is! Hey! Why are you still laughing?"

"Give me a kiss, then, Hondje." He points to his lips, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Vincent

You disrobe, preparing to model for Vincent. It's the first time you've sat for him without being fully clothed, and you're a bit nervous. The vining flowers on your leg are not discreet and this will be the first time he's seen your whole leg without the cover of skirt and hose.

Vincent's eyes are immediately drawn to the colorful tattoo. His eyes go wide and before you can take a breath to say anything, he's kneeling beside you, fingers tracing the delicate lines and curls of ink.

"Ummm. Vincent?" You look down at him, feeling a bit flustered. His smile is angelic but the way he touches you is . . . not. And you aren't sure what to think.

"This is gorgeous. The colors. How did they get this shade? Here?" He is so close to your calf now that you can almost feel the motion of his lips, the flutter of his lashes.

"I - I don't know. You'd have to ask the shop." You give a self-conscious laugh. "Is it going to be a problem? I understand if you don't want -"

He looks up at you, his big, blue eyes as wide and endless as the open sky. "It's beautiful. You are beautiful. But I am going to have to figure out how to mix that color before we start." His smile is full of anticipation and excitement. "Do you have any more of these?"

Vincent reaches to push aside the modest robe you are wearing.

"N-no!" Your face is completely flushed now and your heart is racing.

He drops his hands, his expression going still and flat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You feel immediately terrible for disappointing an angel. "It's ok. I just didn't expect you to be so interested."

His smile returns, tentative and shy. "I am interested in everything about you." He presses his cheek to your tattooed skin. The gesture feels intimate, precious. When he lets go to mix his paints, you can still feel the ghost of his touch.

Mozart

You notice Mozart giving you an odd look. Something between bafflement and horror. "Do I have something on my face?" You self-consciously wipe across your nose and cheeks.

He shakes his head and stands, lips pressed together in a pale line. His hand goes to your arm, drawing a line up from your wrist to your bared shoulder. "This, fraulein. What is it?"

That's when you realize, you've never shown him your bare shoulder, where your colorful little tattoo is etched. The rose and thorns are easy to cover, though you don't mind showing them off. "It's a tattoo. Surely you've seen one before?"

Mozart opens his mouth and then closes it again. It takes him several breaths to get there. "You let someone put needles beneath your skin? Someone who touched you? Who marked you?"

"Erm, yes? I mean, that's how you make a tattoo."

He crosses his arms and walks to the window, chin jutting out.

"What's wrong?" You go to stand beside him, but he won't make eye contact with you. He's grinding his teeth and just staring out at the garden as if he wanted to see it burn. "Do you . . . hate it so much?"

You didn't want him to hate the tattoo. It was part of you, and seeing him like this was making your heart ache.

"No," he grumbled finally. "It's . . . it's very beautiful. I just . . ." He let out a long, slow breath.

"You what?" You prompt him to speak after several silent minutes pass.

"I don't like the idea of someone else touching you like that. On your bare skin. Holding you." He frowns.

You wrap an arm around him and lean your head on his shoulder. "Wolf, you are adorable when you're jealous. You know that?"

"I'm not - I mean, I -" He huffs, trying to excuse himself without admitting the truth. Then he sighs. "It's fine. I'll just mark you in my own way." He turns his head and you can see a dangerous, hungry smile on those delicate lips.

[chuuyrr]

to have loved and lost

bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): hurt/comfort. possible spoilers for bsd. reference to wanda maximoff in mcu's age of ultron.

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which you, the scarlet witch of the detective agency, are hurting, and dazai osamu shares your grief so you don't have to bear it all alone. full-request here.

╰➤ PAIRING(s): dazai osamu

dazai osamu was no stranger to grief, having dealt with it since he was young.

in fact, he grieved every day, from whenever he saw a familiar curry restaurant to seeing children smiling and happily playing in the streets of yokohama, though it wasn't as obvious as it was because he's so used to it, dazai's able to mask it so well with a smile and his antics that one wouldn't even think he was going through such a thing.

everyone grieves at some point in their lives, dazai knows that, but he didn't expect you to be one of them.

[surname] [name], a distinguished member of the armed detective agency who joined the organization not long before nakajima atsushi.

dazai personally doesn't know much about you; in fact, he believes that none of them do, other than the fact that you joined in courtesy of president fukuzawa with a background that you're an ability user from a faraway city with a rather strange and exceptional gift known as chaos magic. 

his colleagues frequently praise you for being so kind and almost like a parental figure to the younger members, especially atsushi, kyouka, kenji, and the tanizaki siblings. those kids looked up to you a lot and sought your advice all the time, even though you were about the same age as dazai and kunikida and fukuzawa and ranpo were the oldest members.

you were always smiling, always putting others before you and very dedicated to your job which makes kunikida personally think you're the ideal member of the agency, even if you were quite terrifying when you had to fight using your chaos magic.

but today was different. 

your [color] eyes were cold, and you didn't have a genuine smile on your face. from the moment you walked into the office in the morning, it appeared forced, cracked, and almost broken. your fingers were twitching subconsciously as you sat down at your desk to go over your work for the day.

not only that, but you haven't been responding to dazai's flirtatious or silly remarks as you usually do.

everyone noticed the sudden change in your demeanor, but you dismissed it as insignificant, even though it was becoming increasingly obvious, at least to dazai and possibly ranpo.

everyone may also think it's insignificant, but if anyone in the agency is capable of seeing through such a mask, it's dazai.

he could tell by your eyes and expression alone. 

you excused yourself today in the middle of the day to go to cafe uzumaki, which was just downstairs, but dazai immediately perks up and insists on accompanying you, "i'll come with you, belladonna!~" he said happily.

"it's fine, dazai. you don't have to.. i want to go get some coffee alone," you said dismissively, waving your hand with your tone being kind and soft-spoken.

"don’t worry, i'll treat you with anything; think of it as a coffee date between you and me, my dearly beloved [nam—" his brown eyes widened when your tone of voice became harsher. 

"i said you don't have to, dazai!" 

at the resounding sound of your scream, red wisps dispelled from your body as you clenched your fists and brought them down across the air. immediately, your red psionics seized dazai and took hold of his collar and lifted him from the floor that he immediately halted from talking. your chaos magic had automatically protected you with it perceiving him as a threat.

everyone in the office was taken aback by your sudden outburst that everyone stood up, alerted by the immense presence of red psionic energy in the air.

"[n-name]?" dazai gasped for air, his eyes widening in surprise as your red psionics was beginning to asphyxiate his neck–your ability working against his no longer human ability. 

realizing what you did, you looked at your hands in horror. you immediately dispersed the red psionics holding dazai in the air by the collar in a frantic, the red glow in your eyes fading as well, and placed him down. "no! stop, i'm sorry!" 

everyone appeared to be conflicted about the situation. yes, it was unintentional, but you were so dangerous. emotional too. it was also something they had never seen before. you were always calm and collected, not until now. 

"[name], are you okay?" kunikida asked, slowly lifting a hand towards you. you can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the glint in his eyes. you hated that look you were getting from them.

atsushi and kunikida approached you cautiously as dazai stroked his neck and adjusted his collar, while the others looked at you with a conflicted expression. that hurt.

the way their eyes were filled with fear—in fear of you.

"don't take another step!" you cried out, raising both of your hands in the air, before your voice trailed off and hushed into a softer tone as you placed both of your hands to your chest, "i-i'm sorry. i just need some fresh air.. yes, that's right.. not coffee.."

"wait, [name]!" cried dazai, but it was already too late, you had already pushed the door open using your red psionics and fled.

you didn't dare to look back as you ran away, subconsciously activating your chaos magic, which increased your speed and allowed you to move in a fast forward like a video being put on sixteen times its speed. 

you had no idea where you were going, but you just needed to be alone, especially after that and what had happened today.

you found yourself running into yokohama's cemetery, which was filled with graves yet a sea of beautiful greenery. even though it appears to be overwhelming you, your subconscious seems to know where you should be as you have clearly not moved on.

dazai was quick to run after you despite kunikida’s protests of just letting you be. a part of him just couldn’t leave you alone, not after that little outburst of yours earlier.

he remembers it clearly, seeing the sadness and loneliness within those red glowing eyes of yours, as well as hearing how strained your voice was.

he was quick to find where you ran off given his natural ability to predict and deduce with such precision strategically. dazai’s eyes then widened to find you sitting against a familiar gravestone underneath a tree.

he knew that gravestone all too well.

how in the world did you find yourself over there? did you know who was buried there? or maybe, was it just a coincidence somehow? 

dazai shook his thoughts off and walked towards you slowly, not wanting to spook you out. he stared down at you for a brief moment as you hugged your legs to your knees with your face buried in your arms. 

"belladonna?" dazai’s voice was soft and hushed as he slowly knelt down to your height.

"leave me alone, dazai. i don’t want to hurt you like that again." you said, your voice somewhat muffled as you refused to lift your head from your arms to look at him.

dazai stared and blinked at you for a minute, before stifling a soft chuckle as he shifted into a comfortable position and sat down next to you instead of just kneeling.

he placed a hand on the back of your head and proceeded to pat your hair gently when you didn’t flinch or scoot away from his touch, "you can never hurt me, love. besides, i know you didn’t mean it."

you continued to stay silent, and eventually so did dazai. the two of you just sat there by the gravestone beneath the trees with the wind’s breeze running through you and him as the leaves of the trees rustled.

dazai just continued to pat your head until eventually his fingers began running through your hair. after some time, you finally lifted your head from your arms, but you simply stared at your shoes and avoided eye-contact with him.

"i had a twin." you began, which made dazai let out a rather surprised and baffled hum, taking note of the emphasis “had”. but even so, he simply remained quiet and nodded his head to signal you to continue talking.

you spoke as you gripped your arms, continuing to hug your legs to your knees, "a twin brother to be exact. he was an ability user too. his ability lets him run fast in the blink of an eye. fitting for his tenacious, playful, and loud behavior if you ask me," dazai smiles softly when your lips twitch into a small smile. 

but then, there goes that frown on your face again, quickly replacing the smile on your features, "but despite his superhuman speed, he still wasn’t able to run fast enough. he got caught in the crossfire while saving people back at our home together with me."

dazai took note of how your lips were trembling now and how your fingers were now twitching again in the same manner earlier back at the detective agency.

you closed your eyes shut, fighting back tears as you recalled the events of the past, of you and your twin brother exchanging banters, of being there for each other and fighting together until the very end, and finally the bittersweet ending wherein half of your soul got ripped from you.

"till this day, i can still remember it clearly. the feeling of my other half dying that all i could do that day was scream and cry my soul out as i saw nothing but red—just burning red," your voice strained once more as you shook your head, "or, i guess i should say today."

before tears filled the brim of your eyes and rolled down your face, your eyes widened as you felt a hand grab yours.

you turned to face dazai with a teary-eyed gaze as he intertwined his hand with yours with his other arm wrapping around you to pull you to him, putting the two of you in a much comfortable sitting position.

you bit your tongue, trying to hold back a cry, but he hushed you and pushed your head against his chest with him now enveloping you in his warm embrace and rubbing your arm. 

"shhh~ shh~" hushed dazai, "it’s okay. let it all out, my love. i'm right here."

you broke down into tears at the sincerity and comfort that dazai was providing and cried your heart out. he tucked your head under his chin as he reached for your face, gently wiping your tears away, hushing you once more as he rocked you back and forth.

it made his heart clench painfully to see you in such a state, but he knows you have to grieve and let those emotions out. 

"[name]?" dazai asked after a while, gently calling you and stroking your cheek as your tears trickled into soft and quiet sniffles. 

you lifted your head towards up, looking up at him with a teary-eyed gaze. dazai smiles ever so softly down at you, "there you are."

"i-i'm sorry.." you hiccuped, shaking your head as you looked down to avoid his gaze, "i didn't mean for you to see me like this."

"nonsense, it's okay. you don't have to hide from me, [name]," dazai said comfortingly, hushing you gently, now holding both sides of your face in his warm and much larger hands to make you look at him again while still caressing your cheek, "okay?"

you nodded your head, swallowing the lump that got caught in your throat when you cried.

dazai then brushed your hair behind your ear while his other hand continued to cup your face, "grief is such a complex thing, no?"

you batted your wet eyelids at him as you watched dazai's lips move and talk. 

"there are losses that rearrange the world and change the way you see everything, even when everyone else thinks nothing has changed," dazai continued as his eyes softened and he stared at the gravestone you two were at, "but, what is grief if not love persevering?"

dazai shook his head, softly chuckling before he pulled you in close to his embrace, gently placing your head on his shoulder, and you closed your eyes, saying nothing.

perhaps your arrival at this location wasn't purely coincidental. you initially thought it was just a peaceful location where you could separate yourself for a bit, having no idea who the lone gravestone was, but you already knew the answer thanks to your mind-reading ability and sensitivity to energies.

this could have been caused by your probability hex. perhaps it could have been a supernatural force too, such as your dead twin brother or whoever dazai was referring to earlier, but you like to believe it was fate.

you returned his embrace with one of yours, your free hand gliding across his back, a smile gracing your lips as you closed your eyes, breathing in the air softly, your heart and mind at ease in dazai's arms. 

"a gentle reminder that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

we grieve because we once loved, and that love is a reminder that will remain with us. 

[ author's notes ! finally had the time and brain cell to write something after being busy because of our thesis defense and mock interview. sadly, i might continue to be inconsistent in terms of writing and posts as i still have one more defense at school, and final exams are coming up in like a week. hahahahaha so yeah, it is so not slay at all ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) ..

ALSO, i hope ya'll enjoyed the reference to vision's words to wanda, as well as megan divine's quote on grief. i find it fitting for dazai osamu, and honestly speaking i didn't know what kind of flow of writing i was going for exactly because i haven't written in such a long while, so hopefully it's okay ! that's all, thank you for reading until the very end hahaha ]

[ join my taglist, perhaps ? @atomi-mi @anonymousewrites @magpiemissy @anqelically @96jnie @lovesick-fairy @soleelia @celestair @irethepotato @idunnomynamesince2005 @nianre @sigmasdarling @lenasvoid @achlysyo @youdidntseemehere21 ]

[squeakygeeky]

I Feel You Linger in the Air Novel vs Series

I guess this is a thing I do now. Anyway, I feel like most people who posted about the novel were understandably focused on the ending, but this will be all over the place, full spoilers, this is for if you're interested in how it was adapted but don't actually want to read the novel. I would say I preferred the series since it took full advantage of being a visual medium and also because of the way it expanded on the story.

So the series only covered the first part of the novel, with Jom being transported back to 1928. The novel is first person from Jom's point of view and we really only get Jom adjusting to life in the past and his relationship to Yai.

Jom figures out he's in the past pretty quickly. There's also a mistaken identity thing so he never has to pretend to have amnesia.

Ueangphueng is still his sister's past life, but she's not Yai's sister, just a random neighbor married to Robert and not in a relationship to Mei. Ming is still in love with Mei but she's going to marry someone else, this is just a random thing not important to the plot. Fongkaew's story is kind of similar to the series and so is Khamsaen's, but there's no plot with Robert having done crimes etc. so she and Ueangphueng are just stuck being married to him and having his kids. James is there and flirty with Jom but there's no gay bar. Jom's piglet belongs to Robert and loses the race due to banana shenanigans, I'm sure you were dying to know.

Yai Palathip is 18 and going to be sent off for school and never gets engaged, instead his non-Ueangphueng sister does (happily it seems). No one finds out about Jom and Yai when Jom starts working for him, so there's not really homophobia they deal with, but also no support. They also barely get time together as lovers before Yai gets ripped into the past.

Jom gets transported to the 18th century (I think?) and meets Moustache Commander Yai. I won't go into much of what happens since it's not relevant to the series, but this Yai has no existing connection to Jom, so basically this part is Jom realizing he needs Yai to fall in love with him, which of course is successful because that explains why 1920s Yai was in love with him from the first moment. This is the Yai that gives Jom the tiger ring. Also there is stuff about personal pronouns used in the past: catnip to me.

Jom gets sent back to the present, but weirdly right before the accident. He doesn't check his phone this time but still goes into the River, he just manages to be in slightly better circumstances and gets rescued (by a foreign doctor, my theory is James reincarnated, although there is nothing to support this). He still has the tiger ring on so he knows it wasn't all a dream. When he returns to work on the renovation, he's given a key to a box in the trunk, which has his phone, the letter he wrote (not a letter from Yai), and the theater tickets Jom and Yai never got to use. Then he's told he needs to meet the son of the lady renovating the house, who is Yai Kanthorn of the present day.

1st special is a cute scene of Yai Palathip interacting with his nieces and nephews many years after Jom's disappearance. He became a judge and the family is prosperous because of Jom's advice about the future.

The 2nd special explains that present day Yai is a decendent of Lek, 1920s Yai's brother, so that's how he ended up also being called Yai. His adoptive mom/aunt is Yai's heir, tasked with giving Jom (as far as she knows just a random person of his full name) a key to the box in the chest. She sees his name in an article about a renovation which is why she insisted on hiring him. Yai sees Jom's picture in the article and remembers his past lives, so he goes to Thailand to find Jom.

The 3rd special is Yai and Jom in the present being boyfriends and getting engaged.

There is absolutely no explanation of why Jom time traveled.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Be With You Everywhere

A short drabble for Little Lies (and a set up for Thor's spin off)

You check your phone for the nth time. You're getting tired of waiting. In fact, you're ready to leave.

You feel like a sore thumb sticking out. Sat on the high stool with your empty martini glass, a satin top and the tight pencil skirt making you chafe for a pair of leggings and loose tee. The gin would go better with some Netflix and pillows.

You sigh and rub your cheek. You're used to the inconvenience of knowing Loki but it doesn't mean you enjoy it. You hook your heel on the crossbar and rest your chin in your hand. Another martini would ease your impatience.

You signal to the bartender, all the way at the other end. You lean forward impatiently, running your fingers up the stem of your glass.

"Martini?" A man drawls from beside you, "sounds good."

Before you can react, the man claims the stool next to you. As the bartender finally heads down in your direction, the stranger raises two fingers, "dos for us, sir."

The bartender takes away your empty glass as you thumb the ring on your finger, making a show of the gesture, "I'm waiting for someone."

"No need, he's late," he insists, "and what kind of bozo would leave a woman like you waiting?"

"My husband," you retort, "I appreciate the attention but I'm flattered. And married."

"Happily?" He muses, "I've watched you half the night, staring at your phone and scowling. A man worthy of you wouldn't leave you all alone for so long."

"Does that line usually work?"

"I to be fair, I don't usually approach married women," he smiles at the bartender as he brings your drinks. He asks him to put the order on his tab, "they usually approach me."

"Sure," you scoff and stir the toothpick in the gin, "thank you for the drink but divorces are costly."

"I can put that on my tab as well," he leans an arm on the leather trim of the bar as he angles to face you, "James. Conrad."

You shake your head and smile. You give your name and slide the olives off the toothpick into the gin, "my husband is known to get jealous. And slightly violent."

"Sounds kinky," he intones, "I've been known for a similar habit, I confess."

You look at him. He has brilliant blue eyes and a charming crooked smile. He almost reminds you of Loki, but not so uptight. A tee shirt under his slim blazer, and a pair of dark jeans. His posture suggests military, likely ex.

"It's his least endearing quality," you rebuff, "I'm not much for angry men and their egos."

"Angry? I find it fun," he raises his glass and sips.

The tap of soles crosses the floor and you turn in time to greet Loki as he strides up, phone in hand as he fixes his tie, "darling, sorry I'm... late. Pardon, I was unaware we were having company. A friend?"

"Not your friend," James chortles, "but I admit, the lady is rather friendly."

"The lady. My wife," Loki snarls as he tweaks a brow, "darling, is this man bothering you?"

"I'm keeping her company as her husband remains errant. How sad," James takes a healthy gulp of gin, "now, we've just got our drinks and I never leave one unfinished--"

"Would the both of you let me get a word in?" You sneer, "I was just informing this kind stranger that I am indeed married."

"Yes, very married," Loki intones.

"Ahem," you give him a pointed look, "and he was kind enough to congratulate me on our recent nuptials with a martini."

"Perhaps if you'd been on time, I'd have got a full round," James smirks, "I do wonder how long a marriage can last with such discord."

"Eh," Loki narrows his eyes as he steps closer, hooking his arm around you, "I have a word of advice, yes? There are plenty of single women to be found in this sort of place, not hard to spot. I can point you towards a few."

"None half so gorgeous," James winks at you, "but glad to know you've such a keen eye. Always on the lookout, yes?"

"Please," you roll your eyes, "James," you stand and take your martini, "thank you for the drink but I am much too tired to argue all night. You have a lovely evening," you grab your purse and hit Loki's stomach with it, "let's find a table, Lo."

You strut past him. He doesn't budge at first but before you can turn to chide him, he relents. You choose the table against the wall and sit, placing your purse at the side as you nurse your drink. He sighs as he lowers himself across from you, his eyes still on the bar.

"I rush across the city and find you flirting with other men," he scoffs.

"Lo, you kept me waiting nearly an hour and are whining like a baby," you reproach, "for the time being, I'm going home with my husband. Don't make me change my mind."

You peek over at James and raise your glass in a toast as you grin. Loki snarls and leans over the table, "don't, darling. Traffic was horrible, I swear--" He hisses and sits back, smoothing his shirt, "besides I didn't even get to break the good news."

"Oh, amazing news, I'm sure," you sling one legs over the other, playing deliberately with the lacy hem of your shirt. He's distracted for a moment before he can't right himself.

"It is," he chimes, his tone striking you as unusually chipper, "my brother is to be married."

You nearly choke and put down your glass heavily, "Thor? Really? Your mother must be thrilled."

"Mmm," he leans back as he considers you. The toe of his leather shoe meets your calf and runs up as he pokes out the tip of his tongue, "and you. You must be elated to accompany me back to Asgard once more. Countess."

"Ugh, don't call me that," you grimace, "yes, lovely memories call us back, do they?"

"Darling," he purrs as he drags his hand down his lapel, "you've never seen Asgard in the spring..."

"I've never wanted to."

"Well, you're mine now, you have to," he says and aims a look toward James. You don't bother glancing over, you know he's still there.

"I am, so quit being such a child," you warn as you finish your martini, "I could use another drink."

He grins and his eyes wander down to your empty glass, "you could," he hums lowly.

"Mmm," you nod and brush his ankle with your toes, "you know you're a lot easier to bear with some alcohol around."

"Yes, dear," he plucks up your glass, "but you know, so are you."