#he doesnt have ANY REPROACH.

[lesharl-eclair]

talking f1 rivalries with alain prost! [2021]

[darkniters]

jschlatt whos a bartender

im adding onto this post

your group of friends all leave one by one, leaving you the only one of your group left in the bar, waiting for your lift home (because you cant drink drive!)

you decide not to drink anything else, having your fill for the night and just ready to conk out the second your head hits the pillows.

youre reproached by the bartender, youve been sitting at the bar while you wait, not thinking one person is worthy to occupy an entire table. he greets you with a smile.

“you want anything else?” he leans forward as he asks this, smile on his lips. you shake your head, leaning in closer again.

“no, no, im done for the evening, thank you though!” you can tell yourself its because you dont want any alcohol in you all you want, but really its because that shit costs money.

“hey, if you want i can make you something alcohol free?” he offers, “it’d be my honor, and i’ll even make it on the house. just for you toots” he grins, subtly flirting with you

a roll of your eyes and a small chuckle leaves your lips. “alright, if you insist.”

it seems as if this bartender cant stop smiling, as he moves away, he’s got the widest smile youve ever seen from a person, teeth showing in all their pearly glory. he briefly walks away to get a glass.

while he’s gone, however, the universe decided that you’re its next victim.

a man approaches the chair beside you, and sits himself down. theres a strong attempt from you to pay him no heed, to focus on the man behind the bar making your elaborate yet alcohol free drink, but this man is in dire need of your attention it seems, staring you out while you look forward.

you sigh, turn towards him, and give him a small, unmotivated smile.

you’re not really listening to what he has to say, but he does say “whats a place like you doing in a girl like this” which is just. not right. at all. it makes you laugh though.

you don’t care about this guy enough to listen to him babble on about himself, and it seems the same comes from the bartender, finishing your drink and setting it infront of you.

while the guy doesnt seem like trouble, youre still wildly uncomfortable, and you give a sideeye to the bartender. his brown eyes are already on you, as he scratches the side of his face. the beard below his nails make a noise.

he understands your look, and he nods subtlety.

“hey man, this is my girlfriend youre speaking to. may wanna back off a bit.” the bartender says monotonously. he then reaches out his hand and grabs ahold of yours, gripping it softly.

the other man is surprised, probably just as surprised you are. you play along though.

“yeah sorry, i just wanted to see this man on shift, cant get any better than a man in uniform, right?” you regard cheekily. although its brash, it’s exactly what you’re thinking.

his tight fit black shirt is doing something to you, and he’s now looking out for you? you gotta come back here more often.

the bartender grins as the man leaves in a huff, giving up on his attempts to further advance with you. at some point, his fingers began to run left to right over your knuckle, without either of you noticing, it seems.

when you look back to him, his face is red, still gripping your hand. he clears his throat “apologies, i didnt mean to go to that level of extreme… in which saying we were together…” he seems flustered and embarrassed that he thought of that, and he physically cringed at himself for even bringing it to light.

he attempted to move his hand away, but your clamp on his hand was stronger. the heat between you two couldve melted the ice in your still undrunk drink. you cant help but smile. “i didnt mind at all, thank you.”

both of you are overjoyed that there are more than one bartenders working tonight, because everyone else wouldve been left waiting, your red faces looking into eachother as your hands stay pressed together.

he clears his throat.

“um. its not often time i find myself asking this but. can i give you my number?”

you pretend to think, lifting your unoccupied hand and tracing a finger around the rim of the drink he made for you.

you respond quietly, jokingly, “only because you paid for my drink”

a smile is exchanged between you to. he writes his number on a napkin, and leaves you to put it in while he runs off to server other customers, his eyes often looming back over to you while you drink your final drink of the night.

you call him over before you leaving, letting him know that youre going.

“please let me know when you get home!” he calls out as you walk away.

you turn your head and smile his way, giving a quick nod and a wave his direction.

when the bartender finishes his shift, he finally gets access to his phone again, you shouldn’t have your phone with you behind the counter! you’ll get distracted easily!

he sees he has 3 messages from an unknown number

‘hiiii im home btw :]’

‘wait i didnt give you my name oopsies‘

‘anyways GOOBDIGHT’

he cant help but let out one of those large grins he does, hoping he will see you at the bar, or other places, again soon.

[andreabaideas]

Do you have any headcanons for how Billy reacts when Camila or Julia's sick?

Yes, but not many..

• When Julia its sick, Billy feels worried, sick and suffers a lot until she is healthy again.

• Camila is always healthy all her life, she didn't even got the flu. She seemed to be sort of a Wonderwoman, so no one had to worry about her health, not even Billy, she was never sick ever....Until she was so sick that she died. Her sickness was the shock of Billy's life , because he thought her almost inmortal, like a deity, he always thought that he would be the one to die first.

•Billy always stays by Julia's and by Camila's bed sides, just like he did with Graham when they were kids, as their mom worked a lot, and they didn't have a dad (one that matters). He feels that everyone deserves someone by their side when they are sick...

• ...Excepto himself. He doesnt feel like he deserves having anyone by his bed side, because absolutely no one he has ever loved has been by his bed side while sick, especially when he was on rehab. No one really : Teddy left him at rehab, but never came to visit him, Graham doesnt know how to deal with sickness, so he never visited, Camila (as much as she loves him) lets be honest she didnt behave in a correct way on that matter, she never went to visit him on any of the rehabs...Billy feels (inner) alone and that because no one really helps him through his issues , that he doesnt deserve that...He feels that he doesnt deserve love.

• Until Julia grows Up acknowledges what his father may be feeling, and then she starts to get involved in the AA reunions for family of AA people.

•Billy and Julia get even Closer after that and after Camila's death.

That's it about my headcanons.

+ Unpopular Opinion about Camila and the band...(Sorry not sorry)

I know my headcanon about Billy's feelings is brutal, and not something people would want to hear....but in both book and show canon Camila (nor the band) never visited Billy at rehab, because just didn't, so...It speaks negatively about Camila denying realities that she doesn't like, she was delulu seeing life in Pink colored glasses in a way.

That wasn't okay, and I myself personally , as someone who knows someone who is exaddict (very Dear to me) and as someone who has visited while at rehab, as soon as the doctors let me that is ...And im not romantically involved or married...

They didn't do right by Billy, specially Camila being his wife. One of the few things I feel free to reproach Camila and the rest it's that. No matter the unfaithfullness, the messups, if you really LOVE someone and you supposedly forgive him, then you stay in both the highs and the lows. If you dont want to forgive and truly be there then you divorce. Period.

They all failed and neglected Billy greatly. That's why im giving him someone good for him (Julia). who gets what addiction is and accompanies him on that addiction issue, so that he isn't so lonely.

That's it.

[writingmysanity]

Slowing down

Prompt: Smile + lunch dates on busy days

Pairing: Viktor x Botanist!reader

Word count: 1490

TW: sweet, really sweet... i will not pay for your dentist visit.

A/N: I wrote this at 3 am- so I am sorry if there are any mistakes or if Viktor seems too OOC. i just felt like some sweet fluff in the middle of some chaos i needed from time to time. Unbeta'd as per usual- all mistakes are my own.

This is part of the "sanctuary" universe but is a side piece not in the actual plot of said story as I work on the larger pieces.

Life on campus can only be categorized as busy, bodies hurling past each other in a blur. Everyone has somewhere to be, or something to do in the name of Progress. 

As someone who naturally comes with their own speedometer, you are often looked at as a blockage, a nuisance- what your professors have categorized as “slow” as you refuse to rush your life to accommodate someone else's lack of planning. They can't fault you, you are at the top of your class, your grades set the bar. They just don't understand why you would rather actually spend your time off not working, or how you can contemplate leaving somewhere a bit earlier in order to not have to sprint to your next destination. 

Tactfully stepping to the side, weaving through the hordes of bodies swirling around you, you hum, pausing mid step to spin, soaking in the warmth of the sun after another harsh winter, laughter bubbling out of you at the sweet smell of spring. 

The closer you get to the lab, the sparser the amount of people, as Viktor and Jayce purposefully placed themselves the furthest they could from the masses to ensure silence. Readjusting the boxes in your hands, you move to free a hand, shouldering into the building. At first glance, there is nothing. No one home- the only sounds being that of machinery hissing and whining in random corners- the scientists’ newer projects. 

Quietly, you pad in, gently closing the door behind you, careful not to startle the two bodies huddled over their respective desks, hunched over to the point of, if you didn't know any better, you would say that they’re asleep. Chuckling softly, you meet Jayce’s eyes first, the man straightening with a grin, tired eyes drooping as he drops his pen.

“Nym,” he calls happily, moving to stand, hands out in an offer to help unload the boxes in your hands. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” laughing, you hand him the top box, patting his arm gently. You can feel Viktor’s eyes on you even before you turn to meet them.

“I come bearing gifts,” you tease, turning towards your favorite scientist. Though it could be said that you are biased. Probably. 

Viktor straightens as well, though he doesnt move to stand, but instead offers you a tired smile as he stretches his arms above his head, the cracks resounding on the otherwise quiet room.

“What did you bring?” he asks gently, huffing at the release of his sore joints. Jayce answers before you're able, his excitable voice floating around you both happily as he opens the box you handed him.

“Lunch!” you both chuckle at his excitement. Nodding, you pull up a stool next to Viktor, smiling sweetly up at him.

“Indeed, it is time for your mandatory lunch break,” you hum, placing a box in front of him. Leaning over the box a bit, he looks at it curiously, but does not open it yet- inspecting it. You laugh.

“The food is inside, Vik.”

“Ha ha,” he grouches playfully, tugging it open, his eyes fluttering closed when the smells hit him, sighing happily. “Very funny.” what was supposed to sound reproachful just came out as a breathy hum as his shoulders slump. 

Pausing, you pick at the lid of your own meal, smiling up at him sheepishly.

“So, you know, it's been a while since we got to eat together…” you mumble, looking up at him through your lashes. He pauses in starting to pull out the food you've made, looking down at you thoughtfully. He just nods slightly, leaning back in his chair, softening.

“It has,” he sighs, looking rather apologetic, and you can't seem to be upset with him. It's been busy for you all, he and jayce especially as they are working on the final pieces of the hexgate, ensuring that they will be done on time and work as planned. Smiling, you lean forward, resting your hand over his, hoping it shows that you aren't upset with him. 

“Would I be able to convince you to leave the lap to eat with me?” he doesn't even pause to think about it, immediately moving to box up his food with a smile.

“No convincing needed, my dear,” he hums, standing slowly, wincing as a few of his joints groan in protest- he has been sitting for entirely too long. “I believe some fresh air will do me good.” Jayce agrees from across the room, already shoveling the food into his mouth.

“I will be back later,” Viktor states, looking at his partner who just nods, smiling.

“Take your time.”

Gathering both boxes up, you hand Viktor his cane, beaming up at him. Chuckling, he motions for you to lead the way, holding the door open for you. Turning you, place your foot in front of it to keep it open for him to move through. He just smiles, gently squeezing your arm in appreciation as the door slides closed behind you both. Quietly, he holds a hand out for one of the boxes, but you just grin, adjusting your hold on them, taking his hand in yours. 

Quirking an eyebrow at you, he doesn't say anything, just laces his fingers with yours as you start towards the greenhouse in silence. In a world so loud, it was pleasant to just be able to be quiet with him, walking comfortably, occasionally bumping your shoulder into his arm, earning a chuckle as he paused to tap your foot with his cane playfully. 

“You'll topple me over one of these days,” he teases, his eyes glowing like sunshine. You can't help the softening of your resolve to try and keep a straight face, his smile just as blinding.

“You'll do that to yourself, tapping me with your support device,” you counter. Snorting a laugh, he bumps his shoulder to yours, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“I would never make you hit yourself, darling,” he hums, tugging your hand to help you up a cobblestone step leading around to your garden. This time, you snort at him, shaking your head.

“How sweet,” he just nods, feigning seriousness. 

“I think it's all the sweet milk,” he states, shrugging. 

“Sound scientific,” you offer, motioning for him to sit first at your normal table at the edge of the forest of trees. He shrugs you off, pulling your chair out for you instead, waiting patiently until you slide in, huffing at his stubbornness, mumbling a thank you. 

“It is,” he assures you. “I've done extensive research. Now tell me, dear. How is your work?” reaching for his box, he starts pulling out his food, you parroting his motions as you start in about the council’s newest regulations, funding and your frustration at their shortened timeline and expectations for better results.

“Progress never sleeps,” he muses as he eats, the motion reminding you to take a bite yourself.

“I get that, I do. But I am a botanist- not a mage.” you grumble. “No matter how often Mel refers to my abilities as magic.” This makes Viktor snort a laugh. “They’re plants, Vik. I can't make them bloom any quicker than the season allows.” 

“Seems they will just have to be patient,” he agrees, hand resting over top of yours as he continues to eat. Grinning, you shake your head.

“Because they are so patient,” you muse, relishing in the warmth of his hand for a moment before turning your hand palm up. He doesn't lace your fingers, starting to stroke over your palm slowly, soothingly, in random patterns, humming in agreement. 

“Truly, they make Jayce look patient,” he muses back, earning a laugh. He beams at that, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. 

Pausing, you sigh, smiling up at him.

“Thank you for eating with me,” you hum, looking sheepish. “It's rather lonely without you,” you admit, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly. Softening, Viktor tugs you closer by your hand, lips running along the side of your nose and under your eye, making your eyes flutter at the sensation. 

“I've missed you, too,” he whispers, still barely an inch from your face, golden eyes seeming to swirl with light. You don't even fight getting lost in them until they close, two fingers under your chin tugging you closer to bridge the gap. His lips are feather light, barely there until you lean into him, tugging him even closer by his tie. 

“Hmm,” you sigh as you pull back, but neither of you move very far away, eyes opening slowly. “You probably need to get back soon.” he shakes his head, smiling. “But the gates-”

“Can wait,” he states simply, running his thumb over your cheek. Frowning, you fight the urge to melt into his touch.

“Jayce-”

“-said to take my time,” he shrugs, standing slowly, grabbing his cane before offering you his free hand. “And I intend to.” 

__

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[sunlightandsuffering]

Why do I have the feeling Corruption Eren eventually beats up Rainer and Porco?? Just like he does in canon lol. Like they are part of the popular group that bullied Eren but now he doesnt give a shit, fucks them up if they give him reason to. Mikasa is like 😰😰 they are her friends too but she cant really reproach Eren while she's cockwarming him

OU PROBABLY! Any opportunity he gets he’s fighting!!! He finds them after school and BOOM shit kicked out of them lol. Mikasa is a little attracted to him for it but also mildly horrified bc those are her friends I think she’s very conflicted 😂😂

[mmmcheetos]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2bw85cjBOzhXwMflMumwe4?si=b4fa8ff4dc1049a6 - idk if i've ever shared the jinxue story playlist with you so here!! (yes ik there is a disturbing amount of fnaf songs, i'm on tumblr, what did you expect?)

If i may be so bold, I'd like to elaborate on the song choice 'Main Character'! It's Jin Yuran 1.0 and the song is him sloooowwwwlllyyyyy descending into insanity while trying to keep positive because he's the beaming eldest son made of sun rays. However, the bridge is when he properly loses it, and i've assigned little lyrics to people in my head so forgive me briefly while i explain it to you like a goddamn film script: Lai Yingxue: "Judge me by what my cover shows/" (practically emotionless on the outside and this is how everyone percieves him) "author becomes beyond reproach/" (Because of his disposition, he's talked ill off) "you don't know the prose or is the spine is still intact" (No one ever actually bothers to get to know him, his thoughts and feelings are ignored due to his demeanour, a book never read because the words look too long)

JYR's Dad: "...The Royak We/demand a standard of loyalty/in order to be reverent, lick the emperor's new boots" (Forcing the guoshi all to listen and obey and basically suck up to him, at risk of their loved one's lives)

Mai Guiying: "The court's fool got the guillotine" (1, his head was cut off, 2, he is the 'fool' of the court, naive and trusting but too scared to actually seek help until, eventually, he goes to the wrong person)

all guoshi: "we all do what we need to to get through/" (them taking their anger out on the children, slowly becoming cruel and bitter as being held hostage in a gilded cage put on display makes them slowly begin to lose any care they had for being in the moral right, just desperate for catharsis) JYR, in the immediate following lyric: "But I ain't done a fucking thing to you!" (He's an innocent bystander who was caught as a ransom in a war he didn't know existed - he never hurt anyone until he broke)

Also JYR, fast forwarding a few lines: "I mean, imagine if antagonists lacked any evil scheme!" (This one is a scene in my head of emporer JYR holding a hostage LYX's face, screaming desperately into a blank expression - the impact of the line comes from the irony: LYX was no antagonist, he didn't have an evil scheme. He and his friends lashed out and it hurt the wrong person. JYR was never part of the equation but he was the one who ended the game by destroying it. His descent to madness was an accident, not deliberate, but he cannot see it any other way because he simply doesnt know. In his decimated mind, LYX is a man of no love, empathy or kindness; he is a true villain)

Yikes, i just went english student-ish on you my apologies-

anyways, enjoy my thoughts!!!

🐉

au contraire there is not enough fnaf songs (i am on tumblr too my friend). there are so many bangers in this playlist tho love to see it

also don't apologise !!! i loved reading through this (especially after a ridiculous amount of math, i think i'm descending into insanity)

i'm now thinking about what you said ("while trying to keep positive because he's the beaming eldest son made of sun rays.") and how "i'm the main character, you have to like me" applies to jyr bc he's he prince! he's trying so hard to impress his tutors! and yet, they all hate him and make him suffer. and his second chance at life is a chance for him to be that likable, o.p. main character. idk tho i am not the english student here i have lost the ability to analyse texts

[makingspiritualityreal]

Intense shadow work for childhood trauma. Useful guide if you want to work through the same.

Since yesterday I've been doing intense shadow work regarding my relationship with my father and I reached a stage when I'm ready to put at least some of my conclusions in writing. I tried to do bullet points but tumblr doesnt allow it.

This is the subject my mind is escaping from possibly the most. Even writing this post, my brain tried to force me into switching mindlessly between tabs because it's nervous. I kept drinking water and juice and looking out the window because of such a high level of stress. When I recently had to meet with my father, I had insomnia the night before and struggled to calm down. I am normally very keen on self analysis and introspection, but this is the one topic that makes my mind ready to just run for the hills. I literally have sweaty palms while trying to do this shadow work sessions, which NEVER happens.

Well that doesn't lead anywhere so we're not going that. Also, it is unfair to any future relationship with a man I might have, because if I don't deal with this it will just get manifested externally through any guy I fall for, and I have had enough heartbreak for a lifetime so no thank you. No matter what I do, some shadows will resurface in relationships anyway, but both parties always intensely project the respective parental figure on each other in relationships so that's a given. Might as well do my best with what my conscious mind is bringing up.

What bothers me is that there is something here that scares me that I am not aware of. I am aware of what I'm about to write, but there is something that feels like what is the source of my biggest panic...but I can't put my finger on what that is. Maybe knowing that I'm about to get abused by him? So just the fear of facing an abuser? The helplessness of being a child in an abusive situation?

Oh just realised, hyperfixation on physical symptoms is something a person does when they are trying to escape from the emotional load. Right now I was hyperaware that my mouth is dry, and I normally never focus on my physical body to that extent. The mind is terrified of the emotional process so it tried to push it into the physical. I've seen so many people to do it, fidget, move around, try to take a pill for the physical symptom instead of facing the emotion...it's funny to observe it from the inside of my own mind. It's ok brain, we can hold it.

One point I never addressed mentally before is how badly my mom and her side of the family handled the situation with my father. My mom encouraged me to forgive him endlessly and was too nice to him, because obviously he's got plenty of his own problems which is why he hurt me so much, but she didn't encourage my own self-provision and self protection and self-care enough, but instead trained me to give people too many chances, even when they behave badly. This is something I worked through as an adult, but it took several very painful situations for me to learn that, as it involved me going against my entire upbringing to be able to stand up for myself. But I never realised before, how much my mom has been a bad example in this department, even with my father.

Which brings me to my next point. My roommate pointed it out to me yesterday, as I was doing shadow work with her as a soundboard, jokingly saying that my father acted as if I was his secret mistress he was only visiting at his convenience. The moment she said that, I realised she was right, and I also realised the thought never crossed my mind because I was so used to this pattern, and because my mom's side of the family never questioned or criticised his behaviour in this department, no matter how much they disliked my father for other things. So literally all of my primary caregivers messed up on that front...never pointing out, acknowledging or even yelling at my father for the side of the abuse that was happening here.

Which is why I was never able to reproach this to my father, because you can't reproach a parent something you are not aware of. Not that I'm really dreaming of consistent contact with him, because of his other abusive behaviours...but the lack of consistency is just another side of abuse. I noticed it especially in contrast with my roommate, who by the way has a very strong Sun astrologically while I have a debilitated one...her father messages her constantly. He doesn't exactly send love letters as his messages are very curt, and he has his own flaws, but there is consistent, supportive contact that shows interest and care in his daughters life.

That brings me to my next point with my father. When it comes to the date and time at which the contact would occur, it was always at his convenience. He would invite me on Christmas because it was convenient for him. He would take me on holidays when, where and how it was convenient for him. He would contact me when it was convenient for him. If I tried to protest in any way, voiced my needs and stood up for myself, he called me spoilt or reproached it to me as if it was my fault, even though I was in the right. He would act as if doing the smallest little thing for me was too much and I'm crazy for demanding basic respect and acknowledgement. He would act as if my needs and desires were "objectively wrong and irrational" even if it meant me demanding basic things for myself. My mom's family didn't help me with this either...because they would give him excuses, saying "he's working" and not acknowledge the problem of his selfishness...again.

I swear, every single abusive mechanic I talk about brings me to another one...when my father and I already would meet, he would always talk almost exclusively about himself...he never listened to me. He wasn't interested in my opinions and feelings, instead he would go on long, bitter tirades about how the world has gone to the dogs. Which involved no self-reflection on his part whatsoever, and no realisation that his life has gone to shit because he ruined it himself. If he already addressed me, it was to criticise me or abuse me verbally. He acted as if my word had no merit whatsoever, because I was too young to speak up and he knew everything better...even though he was wrong about everything.

That abusive treatment was contrasting very strongly with his tendency of replacing me with other women, whether that be romantic or not. Where he would give me no attention, he would give attention to his mistress, who was practically my age and much younger than him. Where he would give me no money or no care, he gave money to my younger sister...who grew up not appreciating anything he has done to her. Where he would be abusive to me, he would glorify other women as better than me. It was unfair and unrealistic, and left me with a deep sense of inadequacy.

The other problem that I reproach strictly to my mom's side of the family, was an attempt to replace my father with my grandfather and not acknowledging the loss of a father figure in my life. My grandfather was my favourite person in the world, and indeed I prefer him to my father, but that doesn't mean that his presence should be used to keep me silent about the trauma of loss of my actual father. That doesn't mean you can use my grandfather as a coverup for all the other horrible things that happened to me.

Ok I just realised these feelings have hurt me deeply on such an unconscious level, that I forgot how it feels to experience them, even though my mind processed it consciously, my emotions were completely disconnected. My mom's side of the family not acknowledging the wrongness of the situation hurt me extra and made me feel like there was no space for my pain to the point that I struggled to even connect to the pain now, because I felt like I was forced to repress it. I wrote about these things now, and it took me a good half hour of writing to dig into the feeling of emotional pain that all these things that I went through caused in me.

Telling me that "he is still my father and I should respect him because he is family". My uncle still says it to me to this day and asks if I "talk to my father". This is my mom's side of the family still encouraging the abuse, in other forms.

Honestly this is scary. Not just how wrong my father's behaviour was, because this I was more or less aware of, but how the rest of my family, who should have defended me in this situation, instead forced me to stuff down my feelings and perpetuate the abuse because of some social clichés of "respecting your parents". Which means I'm angry not just with my father but my entire family for this dynamic. That no one did anything to help me, and everyone forced me into this abusive situation without explaining anything to me, and I had no means to defend myself as a child. Frankly, I think it even did my father wrong, because maybe he would have treated me better, if he received better boundaries, and I was too young to emulate them on my own.

Which brings me to another point...the repression I experienced in this situation went so far, because not only I felt like I couldn't express myself in front of the abuser, but I also felt like I had to keep quiet about it in front of the rest of the family so that I would be loved by them. Kind of like an alcoholic's wife tells the kids to be silent when he beats them, so that the neighbours don't notice. My mom is probably rolling in her grave stricken with guilt, sorry not sorry mom. At least I'm doing the work you should have done.

And another consequence to this whole mess, holy shit how many are there...not only I felt like I couldn't complain about the abuse to my father, then I had to keep shtum in from of my mom and grandparents too, but I also felt like I had to keep a socially polite face in front of anyone else. My roommate just knocked on my door to ask for something, and my brain automatically started to run away from the subject and the pain involved, so that I wouldn't even be aware of it in front people, which means I can hide it easier. Which is ridiculous because this roommate is the one that helps me do the shadow work, so I have nothing to be afraid of. But good to know the mechanism exists.

I have been trying to have a serious cry about all this this whole time, and the emotion is bubbling under the surface, and it's blocked and doesn't wanna come out. Maybe I need another person for that.

My inner child is screaming "Why did no one take care of me?". Which makes sense, because no one actually did. My inner adult is offended at the psychological incompetence of my whole environment. I don't really have many maternal instincts now, and I have way too many problems of my own to deal with, but I'd like to think I would do better as a parent than this.

It can be a bit of a struggle, but I will try to envision a male figure that behaves better than this and emotionally manifest better treatment. I struggle to imagine it. I don't know how it feels to be properly taken care of. I know I deserve better but there is a part of me that feels fundamentally fragmented because of all these things. Plus I will try to have that cry irl eh. It's hard to do it, because all of this made me feel as if I can't cry in front of others, and the whole subject is mentally and emotionally heavy and confusing, but I will try nevertheless.

[jjaybank]

Makeover || JJ Maybank Request

[gif credit to @rudypankows]

Request: Anon- ‘Can i perhaps get a JJ Maybank x reader, she’s been part of the pogues since forever and shes kinda boyish, like the way she dresses and acts so other boys have never hit on her or looked twice and its bothered her since cause she wants to be girly but doesnt know where to start. So Kie & Sarah gives her a make over for a Kegger and it leaves the pogues & even the kooks speechless because wow she’s beautiful and JJ doesn’t know how to be himself around her anymore? 😭❤️❤️’ Okay so I’ve changed this a tiny bit I hope that’s okay?? Just because, I don’t think JJ needs someone to dress a certain way in order to fancy them. I hope thats okay!!! xx Warnings: Under-age drinking, tiny bit of jealous JJ Word Count: 1.5K A/N:  It was so nice to write non-angsty JJ for a bit - it’s good for the soul.

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JJ had always known that you were beautiful.  You always had your hair pulled up in a bun and out of your eyes, and your clothes were more practical than fashionable.  But despite the number of times he’d seen you drenched in sweat from the sun, or emerging, winded from the sea, after being wiped out by a wave, he just knew that there was something about you.  It annoyed him slightly, that other boys barely seemed to show you any attention, and then when they did you were completely oblivious. He’d often catch himself gazing for too long at your sun kissed skin, sparkling with seawater. Or watching the way you scrunched up your nose when you were concentrating. So when he sees you, face made-up and in a bardot sundress, he chokes on his beer.

You were sat in John B’s spare room, face to face with two very insistent girls.  You had protested Kiara and Sarah’s suggestion of a makeover at first.  It didn’t feel very you, but they were stubborn, you’d give them that.  You finally cracked when Sarah stuck out her bottom lip and started packing all her outfits back into her bag at a snail’s pace, shooting you over-the-top sad glances the entire time.

‘Okay, okay – fine.’ You sigh, kind of playing up to how much of an inconvenience they were being.  There was definitely a part of you that was excited by the prospects of embracing your feminine side.   Sarah looked like she’d won the lottery, and tipped her bag up on its end, spilling a variety of thin, slippery, short items of clothing onto the floor.  

The brushes and powders made you sneeze, and Kie accidentally poked the mascara wand into your eye.  You try on every combination of the outfits at least four times, growing more and more reluctant. Until Kie finally helped you settle on a simple yet elegant dress.  You couldn’t remember the last time you wore a dress.  Perhaps your Christening?  Sarah struggled for a while to tame your sea salty hair, and then finally they turn you to look in the mirror.  You audibly gasp.  Every element of yourself is still there; the slightly wild hair, the bruised knees, and wide toothy grin – but it’s all slightly more refined and you look, dare you say it, pretty.   You sat with a drink in hand, waiting for the other two to finish getting ready.  It wasn’t too much longer before all three of you made your way outside to where the boys had been waiting on the hammocks. John B stared a bit as you crossed the yard to them and you suddenly felt absolutely ridiculous.  Sarah and Kie noticed you slowing down, and each grab you by and arm and practically frogmarch you over to your friends. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ Sarah reassured you, ‘you look amazing!’ You give her a weak smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.   ‘Y-you look – you guys look great!’ Pope stuttered as you reach them.   John B tipped his beer towards you all and asked if you could leave for the party now. JJ turned around in his hammock and was about to complain about how long you had all taken, and that was when he choked. The others all pealed with laughter as beer dripped down his front, and he laughed too but not before giving them a reproachful glare.   You felt a bit self-conscious.  What if he thought you looked ludicrous?  Wasn’t the dress a bit short?  You shifted a bit, trying to pull it down as much as possible.  Kie noticed and slapped your wrist sternly.   ‘Stop it, you look awesome.’ She hissed. But JJ couldn’t stop looking at you, and while he always knew you were beautiful, it stunned him to see you embrace it for yourself. ~ You didn’t see the looks you got that night. You were having far too much fun with your friends to take note of the boys who checked you out as you danced past them.  But as you twirled with Kie in the moonlight, beer in hand, JJ did notice.  And additionally, he noticed how annoyed it was making him to see Kooks and Pogues alike obviously ogling at you.  It was as if he hadn’t admired the way the light shone on your bare shoulders, or how your loose hair rippled as you moved.  He was sat on an empty keg, observing the scene before him, occasionally frowning at people who asked him for a drink from the barrel in front of him. He grew increasingly frustrated when an arrogant looking Kook walked up to you and attempted to catch your attention.   He watched, seething, while the guy with his slicked back hair tried to convince you to leave your friend and dance with him instead. You looked confused and shook your head firmly.  It pleased him to see you turn him down.  He didn’t stop watching you, as you and Kie walked over to where he sat.   ‘More beer, Y/N? Wow you really are on a roll tonight’ he flashed you a tight-lipped smile, reaching out to collect your cup.  You obliged, and hugged yourself against the slight chill of the night. ‘Did you see that guy hitting on Y/N’ Kie chirped ‘Yup.’ Said JJ curtly, feigning concentration on the keg.  He couldn’t look you in the eye for fear that he wouldn’t be able to tear his gaze away. You eyed him suspiciously but tried not to think too much of it.  He’d been looking at you strangely all night, and you wished you knew what you’d done to irk him so.

~

The night was almost over before you saw JJ again.  You were speaking to some Pogue guy you had seen around a lot before.  You were sure he had introduced himself, but his name had slipped you mind almost the moment it had left his lips.  He kept touching your arm and trying to move in closer.  He seemed sweet, but he really wasn’t your type.

Speaking of types, you were somewhat relieved to see JJ bobbing towards you through the throng of youths.  

‘Elliot!’ He cried, clapping the boy on the back, oh yeah – that was it. Elliot. ‘There’s a friend of yours looking for you down by the water.  Didn’t catch the name.  Vague looking guy.’ JJ had a huge fake smile slapped on his face as he ushered the boy away from you.  

‘But-. ‘Elliot looked at you, puzzled.

‘Bye, Elliot’ you waved.  JJ saluted at him, as Elliot threw up his arms in defeat.

‘Thank you.’ You laughed, ‘I really don’t know what that was all about.’  You gestured towards the retreating figure of the boy who had been bothering you.

‘I think I might.’ says JJ, gently moving you through the crowd of people and away from the centre of the party.  His fingers were wrapped lightly around your wrist as he guided you.  You were being bumped by elbows and sloshed with beers, and JJ tried to shield you with his arm.

‘What?’ you asked innocently, looking up at him as he finally gets you both out of the writhing mass of teenagers.

He looked down at you in disbelief.

‘You really can’t see it can you?’ he asked.

You were suddenly aware of how close he was. And unlike with the other boy, you felt at home at this proximity with JJ.  He hand was still on your wrist and you felt a strange buzzing sensation from where his fingers made contact with your skin.   He laughed incredulously at how oblivious you were to all of the attention you had been getting.

‘All the people here tonight,’ he gestured to the crowd as he spoke, ‘they’re all just realising how beautiful you are.’

You blushed fiercely, staring sceptically at the mixture of drunken souls moving with the music on the beach.

‘I mean it, Y/N.’ he said, and then he seemed to suddenly realise what he had said, and his face glowed with a rosy hue.

You smiled widely despite yourself.

‘You said I’m beautiful’ you teased, poking at his side.  He rolled his eyes and laughed,

‘Yeah don’t get too used to it.’  He winked at you, pulling you slightly closer.

‘Were you jealous of them?’ You asked suddenly.

‘Of who?’

‘All the other guys.’

He swallowed thickly.  

You looked up at him, swaying slightly from the alcohol you had been drinking like water all night.  

And maybe it was the haze from the beer, or the heated atmosphere of the kegger, but before you knew it you were closing the distance between the two of you.

You stood on your tiptoes to press you lips against his.  And at first it was soft.  His lips tasted of smoke and alcohol.  You weren’t sure if he had momentarily frozen in shock, but suddenly his hand twisted in your hair and his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. You clung onto his shirt.  The kiss was all-consuming.  You could barely hear the sound of the party anymore – it was just you and JJ, surrounded by the thrill of each other.  He tugged slightly on your hair, eliciting an involuntary moan from you.  You felt him smile against you, and you were intoxicated in the delight that was kissing JJ.

He pulled away for a moment, but only to murmur,

‘For the record, I’ve always known that you’re beautiful.’

You grinned.

‘Knew it,’ you said triumphantly, looping your arms around his neck, ‘you were jealous.’ -------------------------- Ah I’m so tired so i hope you liked it!  Please let me know ☺️

My requests are open xx

[katsukis-sad-angel]

Based on a True Story

Summary: there's this boy who makes you super uncomfy and doesnt take a hit, but you're to sweet to tell him to back off. Katsuki Bakugou, the more blunt end of the friendship, is happy to tell him off and free you from that sorry bastard.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Warnings: possible tw, a lot of swearing and some pretty colorful insults, there are guys that are really fucking creepy, based on the actual events of February 7th, 2021 at around 10:30 pm

A/N: this was very very rushed, I just wanted to write myself some comfort real quick and go to bed last night and I didn't have time to properly edit! I'm really proud of some of the banter lmao, please enjoy and never be afraid to punt a ballsack! I'll add tags later🙄🙄🙄

A message popped up on your screen and your once neutral expression went sour. Slamming the face of your phone onto your pillow, you groaned angrily into your bedspread, catching the attention of a certain ash blonde sitting in your comfy desk chair a few feet away. Katsuki Bakugou, one of your best friends, gave a questioning glance but refused to meet his ember gaze

“What’s your deal?” He asked, not letting his genuine curiosity as to why there was such a pained look on your face, show.

You opened your mouth but paused.

Katsuki already knew about this boy and scolded you every time he saw his name pop up in your notifications, telling you to ‘fucking block him already’ for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t like you had feelings for the guy anymore, you were just too nice and polite to cut him off completely and tell him to go fuck himself.

The ash-blonde had already volunteered to do it for you, but you always said no because you knew he’d just find another way to contact you.

“It’s that piss baby again isn’t it?” 

“Yeah…”

“Wow, did you just agree with one of my insults?”

“Suki, I’m about to take you up on your offer to tell him to go fuck himself.”

He snickered, “Now you’re talking sense. What the hell is that pansy bitching about now?”

You sigh and roll over on your back and Katsuki moves to sit on the edge of your bed.

“I cut him off for a while, I really did! It felt so good to be free of him, but then he got my number again and started bothering me a few days ago. I saw him at school yesterday and told him I wasn’t interested in dating at all and he was like whatever so I honestly thought he could keep it in his pants and we could just be friends but nooo! He calls me a simp for anime guys, I tell him to stop being a hypocrite because he used to simp for me and he was like “I still do. You’re the only one” yeah like I’m stupid enough to actually believe that!”

You paused to catch your breath, but before you could start speaking again Katsuki interjected, “Well, you are stupid…”

You socked him in the bicep and he hunched over laughing. You looked so fucking adorable when you got royally pissed at him.

“Oh go to hell.” You snapped, crossing your arms and continuing, “Anyway, this guy used to simp for my goddamn sister! Not only do I reject being a replacement for her, but if she rejected his sorry ass, that means he’s a huge piece of shit because she’s super picky.”

“I might’ve mentioned that once or twice-”

You punched him again to shut him up. “Plus he’s super creepy and gross and it always feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and whenever he’s around I want to dive into a pool full of only chlorine and drink it. I’m just trying to coexist and just be nice to him but apparently, a female looking in his general direction means that they want dicked down by his micropenis. He’s so fucking dense too. Why can’t he see that I’m not interested, especially after I EXPLICITLY told him that?!”

By that point, you were on the verge of frustrated tears, bottom lip trembling just slightly with bottled up emotion.

Katsuki could see it.

You felt trapped in something you never signed up for and you’d do anything to get out. All of this frustration had been stored inside of you for so long and it just kept mounting and multiplying until you burst into tears.

“Goddammit, come here dumbass,” He growled, gathering you into a warm embrace, “You can’t keep all this bs inside okay?”

He let you sob into his shoulder, one calloused hand supporting the base of your neck and the other crossed firmly over your back so you’d feel safe and secure; away from the world full of horrible people and into a small one of just your best friend’s warmth and the sweet sweet scent of caramel.

“Why don’t you listen to me? You’re just too fucking nice to every shitty dickhead that sees you as an easy, fuckable target. Something really fucking bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t shape up and learn how to punt a dude’s excuse for a ballsack and tell him what you really think.”

You raised your head from the solace of his shoulder to look at him with big, reproachful doe eyes and whimpered, “I tried that!”

“Have you tried punting their fucking balls first?”

“No… that would hurt.”

“That’s the point.”

“But if I did it without reason I could get suspended or charged with aggravated assault!”

It was Katsuki’s turn to sigh.

“That’s not the point dumbass, the point is that you need to tell these bastards off when they start getting creepy. You know what? Why don’t you just fucking ignore their sorry asses in the first place!”

You sniffle and drag a hand over your cheek to dry your tears, then resume your position with your face in the crook of your best friend’s neck.

“I feel bad for them.”

“Well stop. I’m gonna call him now alright? After that, we’ll block his stupid ass on every fucking app, you hear me?”

You nod and hug him tighter as he leans forward to grab your phone and opens it with your passcode, swiftly finding his name in your contact list and pressing the call icon, then he tapped the speaker button and waited.

The call was picked up almost immediately and a voice on the other line said, “Hey cutie! I was just about to call and ask to see if you wanted to come over on-”

“She’s not here.” Katsuki cut him off with a dry snarl, “And last time I checked she wasn’t interested enough in your sorry ass for you to be calling her ‘cutie.’” 

You could almost hear his lip curl in utter disgust.

“Who the fuck are you?” The voice asked, dropping its sickeningly sweet tone to something more appropriate in light of the previous insult.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend you dickwad-” You popped up from your haven in surprise, mouth open to sputter in protest but he put a finger to your lips and smirked, “who the fuck are you?”

“No fucking way that whore has a boyfriend-”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me? Shut your mouth, you mother fucking pussy, insult her one more time and I’ll fuck you up so bad you won’t be recognizable by the time you get to the hospital.” He snapped back, “She’s crying right now because you’re too dense to realize she doesn’t want any business with some horse-faced piss baby like you. Take the hint right fucking now you useless bastard so you don’t make the mistake of coming near her again because I. Will. Kill. You. Delete this number because she’s too sweet to block you herself, but I will.”

“Fuck man, I was just tryna get laid. She’s the one who started rubbing herself all over me-”

“I said delete this number. Damn, you are a dense piece of shit aren’t you?”

“Hey, I-”

Katsuki pressed ‘end call’ and blocked his contact, moving from Instagram to Snapchat, to any social app you had, and blocked him left and right until he was satisfied.

“Feel better?” He asked softly, tossing your phone aside and peeling you off.

You carded a shaky hand through your hair and wiped your eyes, giving him a watery smile and a nod.

“Why did you tell him that we were in a relationship?” You asked, voice on the edge of a taunt.

“To make him mad.”

“I mean, it worked, but is that the only reason?” You giggled.

“The hell are you insinuating?”

“Do you… possibly by chance… have feelings for me?”

You batted your eyes at him and he retched, but the smirk was still present on his handsome features.

“What’s it to you?”

You squirm a bit, but something pops into your head so you can stall a bit longer.

“I mean, you’re not THAT ugly-”

He responded with a simple, harsh flick to the forehead to make you whine and try to whack him, but he easily intercepted your fist and pushed you on your back, caging you in nothing short of a horizontal kabedon.

It was your turn to smirk, “Yenno ‘Suki, I could very easily… oh what was your phrasing? ‘Punt your fucking balls’ in this position…”

“Just shut up and tell me what the hell you want.” Katsuki snapped.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You prod.

“You look like a pissed hamster when you’re mad.” He shot back.

“You smell like a fucking candy store after training.”

“You’re the dictionary definition of a dumbass.”

“You have a better hourglass figure than Yaomomo.”

“You're quickly becoming an extra.”

“Date me.”

“Fine.”

“Wait really?”

“It’s the only way I can kiss you, protect you, and keep you all to myself.” He shrugged, leaning in dangerously close, “You don’t fucking understand how hard it is to watch you prancing around with one failed abortion after another and watching you cry because they leave since you don’t want the one thing they’re after.”

“You’ve always been there for me ‘Suki… I guess I just took you for granted, and I’m really sorry.” You met his soft vermillion gaze with a meaningful and apologetic one and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“‘S okay. You’re mine now, right?”

You nod, smiling. 

“So it doesn’t matter how dense you are anymore.” He smirked, laying down on your bed and dragging you down with him so you were tucked comfortably under his chin.

You grabbed the remote and flicked on the tv, preparing to turn on an anime you had in mind.

“What romance garbage are you inflicting on me this time?” Your new boyfriend groaned, burying his face in your hair.

“One that’s super sappy and romantic and sad just to piss you off.” You pouted, clicking on each letter to form the desired word in the search bar.

“Have fun with that.” Katsuki snarked, beginning to move away, but you stopped him by deftly pressing your lips to his.

You slowly pulled away, blushing furiously, but happy to feel strong forearms snaking around your front and crossing over your stomach.

“I certainly will.” You respond.

[littlenekosfan]

Do ur beloved Lille for the ask 💕

LILLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<33333333

1. Favorite thing about them

okok i havent finished tybw and i remember nothing from when i read it 5yrs ago but, he's definitely one of my fav sternritters, his beauty, his character, his seriousness, his importance, he's just ahhhhhhh very very charismatic to me, i also love how he's a big icon among the ritters??? i know the manga doesnt really show it but, the fact he's the first ritter and leader of the elites makes him one of the most important ritter right after jugram

2. Least favorite thing about them

i actually dont see anything to dislike about him???? not even his transformation or bird version lol, maybe when he shot ichigo? like, rude....... (yeah, i reproach anyone who attacks my bbys, i cant help it)

3. Favorite line

"I am the final Quincy upon whom His Majesty bestowed his power. I am his ultimate creation. Closer to God than any other man. For one such as myself to be forced to open his eyes three times is tantamount to heresy." i have no idea what he's talking about but its sexy so, i just need to reread his fight okayy dfjkskhdfsd

4. brOTP

jugram!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5. OTP

askin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! +gerard!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

6. nOTP

none, but dont test me bc i dont ship him with anyone else but askin and gerard

7. Random HC

my fun part :D!!!

lille has shown to be the only one to understand pernida's language........ i wonder how long did it take him to understand them... he probably stays the most with them and have studied them since they arent really human... and he have a very trustworthy aura, pernida probably communicated only with lille...

lille is said to be the first ritter and jugram/bazz/hubert were already ritters by fair deductions, (hc time:) so lille knew them during that time but only got close to jugram since he's an important figure... both have very similar personalities, and jugram... well he does seems like a kid back then, (im assuming lille was older than him given their canon appearance having a gap where lille looks older imo) lille would be his... kind of his confidante, not as in he tells him everything, but jugram wouldnt need to wear that mask of a ruler with him... to the point of maybe becoming a father figure to him somehow.... i actually love their dynamic a lot and what it could have been pre and even post war but it should have a post alone fgjdhfgd

8. Unpopular opinion

BLEACH FANDOM IS A FUCKING PUSSY FOR NOT GIVING ATTENTION TO LILLE AT ALL, I DONT CARE IF JUAZZ ISNT POPULAR, GIVE MY BOY MORE LOVE!!!!!!!!! FUCK

9. Favorite picture of them

[thethespacecoyote]

I wasn’t going to post this but then I figured I can just post it and not put it in the tags. This is mostly just for myself and the people who send me questions about the Huxlings, otherwise just ignore it because I wasn’t really trying to make it good or character-accurate, just indulgent fun

Usually Hux is kept busy during the day, but on advice of his medics he’s decided to take more days to himself. This morning he sits out in the garden, eased into a comfortable daybed wreathed in gauzy curtains as he watches his children play out into the open. Usually he kept a close eye on them, fearful of what harm might befall his family, but today Hux feels oddly relaxed, resting back with his hands resting atop his belly, feeling the gentle movements of the pup beneath his palms.

He’s birthed twins in both previous pregnancies, so carrying a single baby is a bit of an adjustment. Kylo had fretted over his mate’s size for the first few months, used to how quickly Hux had grown beforehand. Their first ultrasound had soothed that worry, revealing one perfect, healthy pup.

Though Hux is smaller than he would be with twins at this stage, he still feels huge, belly blossoming out beneath his white robes and hiding his feet from view whenever he walks. It’s lovely to get off his feet and relax in the comfort of the daybed, feeling the light breeze and warm sun on his skin as it filters through the translucent curtains.  

Hux watches his children cavort through the myriad flowers and exotic plants filling the garden, mostly transplanted from other systems to give the plain native flora a pop of color. He smiles softly at Amelie when she lets out a war cry, long black hair flying behind her as she playfully spars with Sylmar, the twins clacking their wooden practice swords together as they prance through the garden. Leander sits cross-legged in the grass nearby, eyes scanning over the book in his lap and occasionally whining as his older siblings get too close with their play fighting. Aeon is a little harder to spot but eventually Hux finds her curly red hair peeking out from behind a large bush of everlilies, hands cupped around an elongated blue insect with scintillating wings.  

They enjoy the outdoors, glad to venture beyond the walls of the imperial palace. Hux thinks he’s maybe been overprotective, keeping them mostly hidden from the public, but it’s difficult to completely shed his old instincts, even as emperor. He can’t imagine what he might do if any harm ever came to his children.

He rubs his hand over his stomach, feeling the pup stretch softly before settling, joining its mother in his leisure. Hux wonders what they’ll be like once they’ve grown older. Headstrong and confident like Amelie? Precocious and intelligent like Sylmar? Perhaps studious like Leander, or curious like Aeon?

There’s little way of knowing, but Hux entertains his imagination anyway as he gradually relaxes into the daybed, eyelids fluttering in the late afternoon light before slowly falling closed.  

When he opens his eyes again he’s greeted with a similar sight. Hux still relaxes out in the gardens, though the petals on the flowers have started to wilt with the passing of spring.  He pushes himself up from the daybed, letting the light blanket fall off his shoulders as he looks through the thin curtains.

Hux can hear the sounds of his children, sense their presence, but there’s something more coming to him through the dream. A soft pulse reaching out to him, little feet pattering against the grass.

Before Hux’s eyes a small child he appears toddling up the little step separating the garden from the stone porch. He feels he shouldn’t recognize her but something familiar tugs in his chest as she nudges through the gauzy curtains to approach his bed. She’s clad in the same little white capelets as the rest of Hux’s children, and he knows instantly that she’s his.

Curly black hair frames her face, shorter than Amelie’s but more wild. She almost looks like Kylo used to, back when they’d first met and his locks had flared about like an unruly nebula. She keeps her chin tucked into the high collar of her capelet, shyly peering up at Hux over its brim once she gets close to him.

He reaches out to her, only realizing his belly is flat when she crawls up into his lap. Her wide, green eyes, deeper and more vibrant than his own, come to rest on his face as she raises one of her hands and holds it out to him. Part of Hux is confused even as he lifts up his own hand and rests her tiny palm against his far larger one. He holds it there as she traces his skin with purpose, little fingers trailing and circling in patterns that might seem random to an outsider, but Hux understands she’s trying to speak with him.

His hand moves in response, fingers shifting in signs he doesn’t fully grasp the meaning of but he must do something correctly because her face lights up at them, happy expression bringing Hux calm as a smile touches his lips.

She butts her head softly against his chest, curling against him and stars Hux is in love, he wraps his arms about her and holds her close as she rests against him, little even breaths puffing against his chest.

Hux wakes as a shadow passing over him, blocking out the fading light of the afternoon. He squints for a moment before making out his mate’s amused expression.

“Ah,” Hux mumbles, pushing himself up a little against the pillows, “you’ve returned.”

Kylo lacks his finesse and delicacy when it comes to court matters, but he manages well enough with proper instructions in the emperor’s absence. However, for once Hux is less interested in what’s happened during the day’s proceedings than he is with pulling his mate in for a kiss.

“You’ve been lounging around all day, haven’t you?” Kylo chuckles as their lips part, letting Hux reach up to twine his fingers in his hair, giving it a light, reproachful tug.

“Quiet. It’s plenty of work carrying your child.” He presses another kiss to his mate’s nose, resting their foreheads together as Kylo sits on the bed beside him.

“How is the little one? They doing well?” The alpha slides his hand over Hux’s stomach, earning a soft chuckle. His hand joins Kylo’s over his belly, knowing smile drifting over his lips.

“She is doing quite fine, actually.”

Kylo’s eyes widen, but before he can question it a loud cry of papa! cuts through their quiet moment, and both men turn to look as Amelie rushing towards them, the rest of her siblings trailing behind. Hux shifts slightly aside to make room on the daybed as his children clamber up, crowding both him and Kylo as they begin to excitedly relate to their father their adventures in the garden.

The look Kylo sends him before he’s mobbed by their children tells Hux he’ll have to speak on his vision before long, but for now he lies back and relaxes, enjoying the company of his mate and children in the mellowing light of the day.

[gold-from-straw]

Enough - ch 9/9

Aaaah! It’s finished!! Thank you SO MUCH for all your lovely lovely messages, this fandom is GORGEOUS and so kind <3 <3 <3 This final chapter is almost an epilogue, written from Erik’s POV, and almost entirely fluffy ^_^ or as close as I get to fluff lol! I hope you like it!

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you like!

Erik felt Charles’s mind whirling with anxiety even as he stood perfectly still with a polite smile on his face. He sighed, and imagined a twisting band of iron tangling itself in the maelstrom of Charles’ thoughts, capturing him, holding him still.

Beside him, Charles jumped, his eyes going wide. He turned and smiled sheepishly at Erik. “How do you do that? It’s like… being hugged inside my own head.”

“I have a very visual imagination,” he said with a smirk. Charles blushed, and tried to look reproachful, but really, with the filthy thoughts flooding his own mind he had no room for such hypocrisy. Erik reached out an arm and tugged him close by the scruff of his neck. “Calm down, Liebchen. My mother is going to adore you.”

“Just because you adore me, doesn’t mean everyone else is so misguided,” Charles teased. Erik heard the thread of pleading beneath his words, in the place where his thoughts still tangled with Erik’s.

The past months had been a relationship like nothing Erik had ever imagined, let alone experienced. It had taken weeks of careful reassurance to convince Charles that Erik really did want him around - in every way. Charles was so painfully desperate to please, and yet his self-esteem was so completely shrivelled, that Erik found himself constructing elaborate revenge fantasies while he worked, scenes where he punched Kurt Marko in the face until his own knuckles bled. Or where he kicked Charles’ Oxford roommate down the stairs for trying to manipulate him into cheating. When Charles came across those thoughts one unguarded moment, he blinked up at him, shocked.

“You know very well I’m not a very nice person, Charles,” he said with a shrug.

Charles thought for a moment, then straddled his knees and pressed close for a hug. “That’s not true, Erik. Your thoughts are not your actions, and nobody’s hurt when you think such things.”

Erik pulled him back to look at him seriously. “You should know that I would do those things if I ever saw you in such situations, though. I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I know,” he said, blue eyes gazing at him in wonder.

Now waiting in the airport for his mother to arrive, Erik tugged him close and embraced him, resting his chin on his head. Charles retreated from his mind a little, the edge of his telepathy just skating noticeably on the surface. It felt to Erik a bit like holding hands. He knew Charles was there, Charles knew he could dive into the sanctuary of Erik’s mind at any moment, but they were separate most of the time. It was very similar to the way Erik sometimes played with Charles’ watch strap, tightening and loosening it with his power absent-mindedly.

Charles shifted in his hold and sent him a thought he’d picked up off the surface of one of the airport employees. Erik jumped a little to hear a woman’s voice speak straight into his own mind, but squeezed Charles’ waist. “Sounds like Mutti will be here soon, then.”

Charles took a deep breath and straightened out, brushing his blazer down and looking for stray crumbs or creases. He even glanced through Erik’s eyes at himself, and Erik made a point of lingering his gaze on Charles’ arse. “Very funny,” Charles said, trying to conceal a smile, and failing. “I want to look smart, I don’t care what my backside looks like.”

“You look perfect,” he laughed, then looked up, his attention homing in on the feel of a set of slim golden bands he knew so well. “Ah, there she is! Mutti!”

He waved at his mother, and she did a little skip when she saw him across the arrivals lounge, waving back wildly and hurrying towards them. Erik met her in the middle and scooped her up into a spin. “Erik! Oh, my darling, it’s so good to see you! Put me down, you silly boy! What will all these people think if I kick one of them in the knees because my son is spinning me around like this?” She laughed and leaned back as he dropped her back to her feet. “Look at you! So handsome, so tall, where’s my little baby?”

“You know I haven’t grown an inch since I was twenty-three,” he snorted.

“But you will always be my baby, won’t you,” she grinned, pinching his cheeks.

He slapped her away playfully. “Stop, you fool. Come and meet Charles.”

“Ah! Your sweetheart!” She turned to Charles, who was still hovering slightly behind Erik, and switched to English. “You must be the man who has captured my Erik’s heart,” she said, holding out her hand.

Charles gave his best dazzling, harmless-professor smile. He looked perfectly poised, but he’d pulled back just slightly from Erik’s mind, closing himself off and holding himself perfectly rigid. He took Mutti’s hand and to both their surprise, bent over it and kissed her knuckles like some kind of Regency lord. “Mrs Lehnsherr. It’s such a pleasure! And thank you so much for your son.” What the fuck did I just say thank you FOR YOUR SON like he’s a present she gave me what the fuck is wrong with me oh my God she’s going to hate me and we haven’t even got out of the airport and--

The panicked mental stream cut off. Charles straightened up and blinked rapidly. Erik’s jaw dropped, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut and tried desperately to bite his lips to keep the laughter at bay. Mutti looked uncertainly at Erik.

“Well,” said Erik. “You did raise me very well, Mutti.”

Charles’ shoulder slumped and he covered his face with his hands, his ears turning bright red. Erik covered his mouth and shook with giggles.

“Did I misunderstand?” Mutti asked, in German. “Did he say thank you… for you?”

Erik laughed and hugged Charles, kissing him on the head over and over. “Oh, Schatz, you are the best thing in my life.”

Mutti slapped him on the arm. “Well, don’t laugh at the poor boy! See how embarrassed he is! Don’t listen to him, Charles, dear.” She took Charles’ hands gently away from his face, and Erik moved back, still chuckling, to let her closer.

Charles looked utterly miserable, and now Erik had stopped teasing him, he could hear Charles’ mental whispering, almost panicking about how he’d ruined everything and now Edie was going to hate him and think he was an idiot and Erik was going to realise how true that was… Erik’s amusement disappeared and he immediately sent mental waves of apology towards him, trying to cover him in peace and safety.

“Do you know,” said Mutti, holding both Charles’ hands between her own. “When I met my Jakob’s mother, I made the mistake of discussing politics? I didn’t realise she was a staunch conservative, and my liberal views didn’t go down very well.” She dipped her head slightly to meet Charles’ gaze. “Now, you said thank you to me for Erik? Well, of course, he is his own person, and has made himself into the wonderful man you know today, but I am honoured that you give me any credit at all for it.”

Charles swallowed hard and smiled up at her. Erik felt a glow of pride in his mother’s kindness. He used his power to buzz both Charles’ watch and Mutti’s rings affectionately, and pulled them into a hug, one loved person in each arm. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he said. He took Mutti’s suitcase handle in one hand, and tucked Charles under the other arm, and walked them back to the car.

***

She loves you already

, he said into Charles’ mind as they sat in the living room that evening after dinner.

Charles looked up, his eyes wide with hope. How can you know? I don’t want to…

I don’t have to read her mind to know what she thinks of you, he said, smiling over at his mother, who was looking out at the New York skyline outside Erik’s apartment, her hand elegantly folded under her chin, her elbow resting on the sofa. She’s going to love you as much as I do.

He felt Charles’ heart softening at his words, the swell of joy rising up under those negative thoughts that Erik hated so much, the thoughts Charles had been fed throughout his life and that convinced him he was so much less than he truly was.

But now, Charles sent tendrils of thought through Erik’s mind, down his muscles, giving a little tug that showed as a twitch of Erik’s arm, a little pull for permission. Erik grinned. Go ahead, he said, and gave up the control of his limbs. Charles lifted Erik’s arm, making space to press close against his side, draping Erik’s arm around his shoulder before releasing him with a content little sigh.

Mutti cast a look at the two of them on the sofa, a fond smile curling at her lip. Erik smiled back, and pulled Charles closer, breathing a kiss into his hair.

And in his mind, behind a door labelled ‘Surprise, keep out!’, he thought of the ring he had pushed into the very back of his sock drawer. Thought of Mutti’s delighted exclamations when he’d shown her earlier.

“That’s wonderful, Erik!” She grinned the wide, toothy smile he’d inherited. “But why are you showing me?”

Erik looked at her seriously. “Charles doesn’t have a family,” he said. “Or not one worth mentioning. To ask him to marry me would be to ask you to accept another son, and I want to know if you would be willing to love him and support him the way you do me.”

Edie’s green eyes softened with sadness and she put her hand on his elbow. “Oh, Liebling. I’d be honoured. Any person who can command your love and trust like this must be someone truly special. I can’t wait to get to know him.” She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek, and he hugged her tight.

This coming month was going to be the perfect opportunity for Mutti to get to know Charles. Erik already know she was going to adore him. Edie Lehnsherr liked everyone, and everyone liked Charles Xavier. And then, he thought, closing the door to his secret gleefully, he was going to make sure Charles knew that Erik loved him, and his family, small as it was, was all for Charles as well.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

Lazarius Kash’ebahl: Flaws

Bold what applies to your character.  Italics for somewhat  / sometimes.

Lemme just go ahead and set these all back to normal, DONE!  Lazarius doesnt have flaws HAHAHA are you insane?

Absent-minded - Preoccupied to the extent of being unaware of one’s immediate surroundings. Abstracted, daydreaming, inattentive, oblivious, forgetful.

Abusive - Characterized by improper infliction of physical or psychological maltreatment towards another.  

Addict - One who is addicted to a compulsive activity. Examples: gambling, drugs, sex.  (POWER!!!!!)

Aimless - Devoid of direction or purpose.

Alcoholic - A person who drinks alcoholic substances habitually and to excess.

Anxious - Full of mental distress or uneasiness because of fear of danger or misfortune; greatly worried; solicitous.

Arrogant - Having or displaying a sense of overbearing self-worth or self-importance. Inclined to social exclusiveness and who rebuff the advances of people considered inferior. Snobbish.

Audacious - Recklessly bold in defiance of convention, propriety, law, or the like; insolent; braze, disobedient.

Bad Habit - A revolting personal habit. Examples: picks nose, spits tobacco, drools, bad body odour.

Bigmouth - A loud-mouthed or gossipy person.

Bigot - One who is strongly partial to one’s own group, religion, race, or politics and is intolerant of those who differ.

Blunt - Characterized by directness in manner or speech; without subtlety or evasion. Frank, callous, insensitive, brusque.

Bold - In a bad sense, too forward; taking undue liberties; over assuming or confident; lacking proper modesty or restraint; rude; impudent. Abrupt, brazen, cheeky, brassy, audacious.

Callous - They are hardened to emotions, rarely showing any form of it in expression. Unfeeling. Cold.

Childish - Marked by or indicating a lack of maturity; puerile.

Complex - An exaggerated or obsessive concern or fear.

Cruel - Mean to anyone or anything, without care or regard to consequences and feelings.

Cursed - A person who has befallen a prayer for evil or misfortune, placed under a spell, or borne into an evil circumstance, and suffers for it. Damned.

Dependent - Unable to exist, sustain oneself, or act appropriately or normally without the assistance or direction of another.

Deranged - Mentally decayed. Insane. Crazy. Mad. Psychotic.(Maybe? Who knows really?)

Dishonest – Given to or using fraud, cheating; deceitful, deceptive, crooked, underhanded.

Disloyal - Lacking loyalty. Unfaithful, perfidious, traitorous, treasonable.

Disorder - An ailment that affects the function of mind or body. See the Mental Disorder List.

Disturbed - Showing some or a few signs or symptoms of mental or emotional illness. Confused, disordered, neurotic, troubled.

Dubious - Fraught with uncertainty or doubt. Undecided, doubtful, unsure.

Dyslexic - Affected by dyslexia, a learning disorder marked by impairment of the ability to recognize and comprehend written words.

Egotistical - Characteristic of those having an inflated idea of their own importance. Boastful, pompous.

Envious - Showing extreme cupidity; painfully desirous of another’s advantages; covetous, jealous.

Erratic - Deviating from the customary course in conduct or opinion; eccentric: erratic behaviour. Eccentric, bizarre, outlandish, strange.

Fanatical - Fanatic outlook or behaviour especially as exhibited by excessive enthusiasm, unreasoning zeal, or wild and extravagant notions on some subject.

Fickle – Erratic, changeable, unstable - especially with regard to affections or attachments; capricious.

Fierce - Marked by extreme intensity of emotions or convictions; inclined to react violently; fervid.

Finicky - Excessively particular or fastidious; difficult to please; fussy. Too much concerned with detail. Meticulous, fastidious, choosy, critical, picky, prissy, persnickety.

Fixated - In psychoanalytic theory, a strong attachment to a person or thing, especially such an attachment formed in childhood or infancy and manifested in immature or neurotic behaviour that persists throughout life. Fetish, quirk, obsession, infatuation.

Flirt -To make playfully romantic or sexual overtures; behaviour intended to arouse sexual interest. Minx. Tease.

Gluttonous - Given to excess in consumption of especially food or drink. Voracious, ravenous, wolfish, piggish, insatiable.

Gruff - Brusque or stern in manner or appearance. Crusty, rough, surly.

Gullible - Will believe any information given, regardless of how valid or truthful it is, easily deceived or duped.

Hard - A person who is difficult to deal with, manage, control, overcome, or understand. Hard emotions, hard hearted.

Hedonistic - Pursuit of or devotion to pleasure, especially to the pleasures of the senses.

Hoity-toity - Given to flights of fancy; capricious; frivolous. Prone to giddy behaviour, flighty.

Humourless - The inability to find humour in things, and most certainly in themselves.

Hypocritical - One who is always contradicting their own beliefs, actions or sayings. A person who professes beliefs and opinions for others that he does not hold. Being a hypocrite.

Idealist - One whose conduct is influenced by ideals that often conflict with practical considerations. One who is unrealistic and impractical, guided more by ideals than by practical considerations.

Idiotic - Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless.

Ignorant - Lacking knowledge or information as to a particular subject or fact. Showing or arising from a lack of education or knowledge.

Illiterate - Unable to read and write.

Immature - Emotionally undeveloped; juvenile; childish.

Impatient - Unable to wait patiently or tolerate delay; restless. Unable to endure irritation or opposition; intolerant.

Impious - Lacking piety and reverence for a god/gods and their followers.

Impish - Naughtily or annoyingly playful.

Incompetent - Unable to execute tasks, no matter how the size or difficulty.

Indecisive - Characterized by lack of decision and firmness, especially under pressure.

Indifferent - The trait of lacking enthusiasm for or interest in things generally, remaining calm and seeming not to care; a casual lack of concern. Having or showing little or no interest in anything; languid; spiritless.

Infamy - Having an extremely bad reputation, public reproach, or strong condemnation as the result of a shameful, criminal, or outrageous act that affects how others view them.

Intolerant - Unwilling to tolerate difference of opinion and narrow-minded about cherished opinions.

Judgmental - Inclined to make and form judgments, especially moral or personal ones, based on one’s own opinions or impressions towards others/practices/groups/religions based on appearance, reputation, occupation, etc.

Klutz - Clumsy. Blunderer.

Lazy - Resistant to work or exertion; disposed to idleness.

Lewd - Inclined to, characterized by, or inciting to lust or lechery; lascivious. Obscene or indecent, as language or songs; salacious.

Liar - Compulsively and purposefully tells false truths more often than not. A person who has lied or who lies repeatedly.

Lustful - Driven by lust; preoccupied with or exhibiting lustful desires.

Masochist - The deriving of sexual gratification, or the tendency to derive sexual gratification, from being physically or emotionally abused. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

Meddlesome - Intrusive in a meddling or offensive manner, given to meddling; interfering.

Meek - Evidencing little spirit or courage; overly submissive or compliant; humble in spirit or manner; suggesting retiring mildness or even cowed submissiveness.

Megalomaniac - A psycho pathological condition characterized by delusional fantasies of wealth, power, or omnipotence.

Naïve - Lacking worldly experience and understanding, simple and guileless; showing or characterized by a lack of sophistication and critical judgement.

Nervous - Easily agitated or distressed; high-strung or jumpy.

Non-violent - Abstaining from the use of violence.

Nosey - Given to prying into the affairs of others; snoopy. Offensively curious or inquisitive.

Obsessive - An unhealthy and compulsive preoccupation with something or someone.

Oppressor - A person of authority who subjects others to undue pressures, to keep down by severe and unjust use of force or authority.

Overambitious - Having a strong excessive desire for success or achievement.

Overconfident - Excessively confident; presumptuous.

Overemotional - Excessively or abnormally emotional. Sensitive about themselves and others, more so than the average person.

Overprotective - To protect too much; coddle.

Overzealous - Marked by excessive enthusiasm for and intense devotion to a cause or idea.

Pacifist - Opposition to war or violence as a means of resolving disputes. (Can double as a merit in certain cases)

Paranoid - Exhibiting or characterized by extreme and irrational fear or distrust of others.

Peevish - Expressing fretfulness and discontent, or unjustifiable dissatisfaction. Cantankerous, cross, ill-tempered, testy, captious, discontented, crotchety, cranky, ornery.

Perfectionist - A propensity for being displeased with anything that is not perfect or does not meet extremely high standards.

Pessimist - A tendency to stress the negative or unfavorable or to take the gloomiest possible view.

Pest - One that pesters or annoys, with or without realizing it. Nuisance. Annoying. Nag.

Phobic – They have a severe form of fear when it comes to this one thing. Examples: Dark, Spiders, Cats

Practical - Level-headed, efficient, and non speculative. No-nonsense.

Predictable - Easily seen through and assessable, where almost anyone can predict reactions and actions of said person by having met or known them even for a short time.

Proud - Filled with or showing excessive self-esteem and will often shirk help from others for the sake of pride.

Rebellious - Defying or resisting some established authority, government, or tradition; insubordinate; inclined to rebel.

Reckless - Heedless. Headstrong. Foolhardy. Unthinking boldness, wild carelessness and disregard for consequences.

Remorseless - Without remorse; merciless; pitiless; relentless.

Rigorous - Rigidly accurate; allowing no deviation from a standard; demanding strict attention to rules and procedures.

Sadist - The deriving of gratification or the tendency to derive gratification from inflicting pain or emotional abuse on others. Deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty.

Sadomasochist - Both sadist and masochist combined.

Sarcastic - A subtle form of mockery in which an intended meaning is conveyed obliquely.

Skeptic - One who instinctively or habitually doubts, questions, or disagrees with assertions or generally accepted conclusions.

Seducer - To lead others astray, as from duty, rectitude, or the like; corrupt. To attempt to lead or draw someone away, as from principles, faith, or allegiance.

Selfish - Concerned chiefly or only with oneself.

Self-Martyr - One who purposely makes a great show of suffering in order to arouse sympathy from others, as a form of manipulation, and always for a selfish cause or reason.

Self-righteous - Piously sure of one’s own righteousness; moralistic. Exhibiting pious self-assurance. Holier-than-thou, sanctimonious.

Senile - Showing a decline or deterioration of physical strength or mental functioning, esp. short-term memory and alertness, as a result of old age or disease.

Shallow - Lacking depth of intellect or knowledge; concerned only with what is obvious.

Smart Ass - Thinks they know it all, and in some ways they may, but they can be greatly annoying and difficult to deal with at times, especially in arguments.

Soft-hearted - Having softness or tenderness of heart that can lead them into trouble; susceptible of pity or other kindly affection. They cannot resist helping someone they see in trouble, suffering or in need, and often don’t think of the repercussions or situation before doing so.

Solemn - Deeply earnest, serious, and sober. (not sure why this is a flaw)

Spineless - Lacking courage. Cowardly, wimp, lily-livered, gutless.

Spiteful - Showing malicious ill will and a desire to hurt; motivated by spite; vindictive person who will look for occasions for resentment. Vengeful.

Spoiled - Treated with excessive indulgence and pampering from earliest childhood, and has no notion of hard work, self-care or money management; coddled, pampered. Having the character or disposition harmed by pampering or over-solicitous attention.

Squeamish - Excessively fastidious and easily disgusted.

Stubborn - Unreasonably, often perversely unyielding; bull-headed. Firmly resolved or determined; resolute.

Superstitious - An irrational belief arising from ignorance or fear from an irrational belief that an object, action, or circumstance not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome.

Tactless - Lacking or showing a lack of what is fitting and considerate in dealing with others.

Temperamental - Moody, irritable, or sensitive. Excitable, volatile, emotional.

Theatrical - Having a flair for over dramatizing situations, doing things in a ‘big way’ and love to be ‘centre stage’.

Timid -Tends to be shy and/or quiet, shrinking away from offering opinions or from strangers and newcomers, fearing confrontations and violence.

Tongue-tied - Speechless or confused in expression, as from shyness, embarrassment, or astonishment.

Troublemaker - Someone who deliberately stirs up trouble, intentionally or unintentionally. (Rarely)

Unlucky - Marked by or causing misfortune; ill-fated. Destined for misfortune; doomed.

Unpredictable - Difficult to foretell or foresee, their actions are so chaotic it’s impossible to know what they are going to do next.

Untrustworthy - Not worthy of trust or belief. Backstabber.

Vain - Holding or characterized by an unduly high opinion of their physical appearance. Lovers of themselves. Conceited, egotistic, narcissistic.

Weak-willed - Lacking willpower, strength of will to carry out one’s decisions, wishes, or plans. Easily swayed.

Withdrawn - Not friendly or Sociable.

Zealous - A fanatic.

Tagged By: @ask-iraiel  (Thank you very much for this!!!)

Tagging: @caideyn @syristakayjared @whatadarkbitch @blessed-by-avarice

@ms-winford @suncrest-legacy @siidaraykashebahl @daphne-pink &

Anyone else!!

[fabelyn]

It has only now come to my knowledge that Dom Quixote, a book written in 1605, has an arc where a bunch of dudes get together to whine about this beautiful lady who is nice to everyone but never likes them back, and how her lack of loving them is to blame for the sorrow and this one dude’s death...at which point said lady comes in and gives a long speech telling them that no, she doesnt owe them anything just because they fell for her. 

I was unaware of this and, so that others also unaware may enjoy this over 400 year old calling out of male entitlement, here is her speech in full, which is so long I’m putting part behind a read more (apologies for lack of formating and stuff ,this was taken from a pdf):

“I come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named,” replied Mar-cela, “but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable are all those who blame me for their sorrow and for Chrysostom’s death; and therefore I ask all of you that are here to give me your attention, for will not take much time or many words to bring the truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so you say, beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty leads you to love me; and for the love you show me you say, and even urge, that I am bound to love you. By that natural understanding which God has given me I know that everything beautiful attracts love, but I cannot see how, by reason of being loved,that which is loved for its beauty is bound to love that which loves it; 

besides, it may happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may be ugly, and ugliness being detestable, it is very absurd to say, ”I love thee because thou art beautiful,thou must love me though I be ugly." But supposing the beauty equal on bothsides, it does not follow that the inclinations must be therefore alike, for it is notevery beauty that excites love, some but pleasing the eye without winning the af-fection; and if every sort of beauty excited love and won the heart, the will wouldwander vaguely to and fro unable to make choice of any; for as there is an infinityof beautiful objects there must be an infinity of inclinations, and true love, I haveheard it said, is indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. If this beso, as I believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by force, for noother reason but that you say you love me? Nay- tell me- had Heaven made me ugly, as it has made me beautiful, could I with justice complain of you for not loving me? Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess was no choice ofmine, for, be it what it may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking orchoosing it; and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserve to be blamedfor the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neither do I deserve reproach forbeing beautiful; for beauty in a modest woman is like fire at a distance or a sharpsword; the one does not burn, the other does not cut, those who do not come toonear. Honour and virtue are the ornaments of the mind, without which the body,though it be so, has no right to pass for beautiful; but if modesty is one of the vir-tues that specially lend a grace and charm to mind and body, why should she who is loved for her beauty part with it to gratify one who for his pleasure alonestrives with all his might and energy to rob her of it? I was born free, and that Imight live in freedom I chose the solitude of the fields; in the trees of the moun-tains I find society, the clear waters of the brooks are my mirrors, and to the treesand waters I make known my thoughts and charms. I am a fire afar off, a swordlaid aside. Those whom I have inspired with love by letting them see me, I haveby words undeceived, and if their longings live on hope- and I have given none toChrysostom or to any other- it cannot justly be said that the death of any is my do-ing, for it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty that killed him; and if itbe made a charge against me that his wishes were honourable, and that therefore Iwas bound to yield to them, I answer that when on this very spot where now hisgrave is made he declared to me his purity of purpose, I told him that mine was tolive in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone should enjoy the fruits of my re-tirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after this open avowal, he chose topersist against hope and steer against the wind, what wonder is it that he shouldsink in the depths of his infatuation? If I had encouraged him, I should be false; ifI had gratified him, I should have acted against my own better resolution and pur-pose. He was persistent in spite of warning, he despaired without being hated. Be-think you now if it be reasonable that his suffering should be laid to my charge.Let him who has been deceived complain, let him give way to despair whose en-couraged hopes have proved vain, let him flatter himself whom I shall entice, lethim boast whom I shall receive; but let not him call me cruel or homicide towhom I make no promise, upon whom I practise no deception, whom I neither en-tice nor receive. It has not been so far the will of Heaven that I should love byfate, and to expect me to love by choice is idle. Let this general declaration servefor each of my suitors on his own account, and let it be understood from this timeforth that if anyone dies for me it is not of jealousy or misery he dies, for she wholoves no one can give no cause for jealousy to any, and candour is not to be con-founded with scorn. Let him who calls me wild beast and basilisk, leave me aloneas something noxious and evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his serv-ice; who calls me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pur-sue me not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward beinghas no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them. If Chrysostom’s impa-tience and violent passion killed him, why should my modest behaviour and cir-cumspection be blamed? If I preserve my purity in the society of the trees, whyshould he who would have me preserve it among men, seek to rob me of it? Ihave, as you know, wealth of my own, and I covet not that of others; my taste isfor freedom, and I have no relish for constraint; I neither love nor hate anyone; Ido not deceive this one or court that, or trifle with one or play with another. Themodest converse of the shepherd girls of these hamlets and the care of my goatsare my recreations; my desires are bounded by these mountains, and if they everwander hence it is to contemplate the beauty of the heavens, steps by which thesoul travels to its primeval abode." With these words, and not waiting to hear a reply, she turned and passed intothe thickest part of a wood that was hard by, leaving all who were there lost in ad-miration as much of her good sense as of her beauty

[thedeviljudges]

mermaid!billy

Billy can’t shake the feeling that settles deep in his fins. He knows better than this--after all, it’s what gets their kind killed--but he follows it instead of listening because the curiosity presented before him is too much of a temptation to resist.

What makes this human so special? Billy’s never been captivated by much, but it’s taken little effort to figure out that this human is not like the rest.

He snorts, eying the water beneath Steve’s feet, each squelch of his shoes across the wooden planks grating on Billy’s nerves. Two buckets of fish dangle from his hands--back and forth across the dock as the fishermen empty freezers full of fish from another successful catch.

It’s boring, lackluster because Billy’s done this sort of thing his whole life--he’s got to eat somehow. Yet, the way this boy moves--a little lanky, a little clumsy--mesmerizes Billy. He shouldn’t be caught in frivolity; one human saving him doesn’t mean anything, especially after Billy had almost killed him.

Thank god for guilt, he thinks; his mother had always taught him his siren song was a gift. What a tragedy he’d almost let himself become.

Instead, Billy watches keenly. Steve does most of the hard labor, chalked up to being younger than most of the men on the boats. This means he also wades across the dock by his lonesome, and Billy curls his lips into a deadly smile.

Swimming too close than he knows what’s good for him, Billy lifts himself half way, tangles his fingers between the open spaces of splintered planks and shoves two remaining buckets across the dock. They skitter, Billy watching them go--one remains upright only by a miracle while the other topples over.

A colorful assortment of the sea’s finest flop across the dock in a wet spread of delicious food. Billy takes what he wants--only the biggest and the best--and dives back into the water with nothing more than a splash.

His grab is toothpick pickings, little grubs not meant for a full meal, but they’re satisfying. A pleased hum escapes as he munches, waiting for his human to return, and Billy knows that he will.

In no time, the creak of footsteps give Billy warning, makes him sink lower in the water as Steve comes back into view. He’s beautiful, very ethereal, and it makes him wonder how magnificent he’d be if he were Billy’s kind--with fins and a tail, full of gradient scales that’d shimmer while gliding through the water.

He figures, maybe, it’d be similar to the brown upon Steve’s head, a little longer than any other human Billy’s encountered, soft to the touch as both water and wind have tossed it around.

“What the f-”

Billy’s nose curls when he laughs, tail pressing forward as he meets the edge of the dock again. If Steve had noticed, he’d see the damp handprints across the wood, but Billy doesn’t blame him as Steve wipes his brow with the back of his arm. 

The wet of Billy’s lashes blur his vision, blinking away the water. It leaves the entirety of Steve in his wake, and Billy holds his breath as Steve cocks his head in confusion. “Literally, what the fuck?” he breathes.

Lowering himself, Steve reaches for one of the dozens of fish and eventually, the bucket, plopping the remnants of the day’s catch back where it belongs.

While his brows are crossed in confusion, Billy licks his lips, curious as Steve concentrates, as his face contorts into a variety of emotions Billy has never seen on him before.

It lasts for a long time, almost as long as it takes Steve to clean Billy’s mess, but that’s it. The tin can is filled; Billy is still mesmerized, and the only thing that knocks him clean is the sharp look Steve sends his way as if he’d known Billy was there all along.

Billy yelps, falling back into the water as Steve’s sharp laugh cuts in half by water-muffled ears.

“You’re lucky I took the best catch first,” Steve says as Billy breaks through the surface of the water. He hadn’t expected it, but the human’s moved closer to the edge of the dock--an eerie picture Billy hastily pushes from his mind, when cold, wet hands and the trill of his song had cultivated a very sedated Steve. “Your antics aren’t going unnoticed.”

Floating in the water is one of Billy’s favorite things to do, doesn’t quite understand how land life forsakes the ease the body is put through. Which is why he finds his way onto his back, staring up at the sky as Steve stares down at him--the curiosity Billy’s accustomed to transferred into the depths of beautiful, brown eyes.

Billy ignores Steve, kinda. He acknowledges the amusement, the slight intone of worry. The prospect of another human discovering Billy is a risk he’s taken--growing higher by the number each day he can’t say no--because there’s something here, and Billy doesn’t know what, and that feeling deep down in his fins won’t leave him alone.

“Some of them think you’re an angel.” Steve’s fingers graze the water, but dip no further. Billy knows he’s nervous to touch him, had seen the hesitation the moment he’d rescued Billy from the fishing nets. There’s nothing wrong with his fins; Billy knows this, and he thinks he ought to tell Steve that he’s not much different than the slimy cretins he catches for a living.

Though all the same, Billy doesn’t push. He flops his tail in acknowledgement, and that’s all he gives by way of staring at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“Wouldn’t they be surprised if they really knew,” Steve murmurs.

It sends a lump of bitterness down Billy’s throat, anger seething on the tip of his tongue. Quick as lightening--because Billy’s practiced as a means of survival--he finds himself in between Steve’s legs, fingers curling into the meat of Steve’s thighs.

He says nothing as Steve hands land atop his, gripping tight in fright and surprise from the sudden change. If Billy had better hearing, he thinks maybe he could pinpoint the second Steve’s heart picked up speed; he’d feel guilty for that, too, but as it stands, he frowns.

“I-” Steve starts, snaps his mouth shut when Billy’s jaw flexes under the harsh bite he’s known to give.

With a sharp shake of his head, Billy releases his grip on Steve, albeit slowly. If anyone should feel fear, it’s Billy--and he does, to an extent. The temptation he’s fallen under with Steve is useless fodder. It should mean nothing--it does mean nothing--but Billy only convinces himself of that in short bursts of rational.

Every other moment, he’s caught between the torrential downpour of emotions Steve offers him. He keeps Billy alight with satisfaction, with wonder, with that undulating curiosity he cannot explain.

The mere thought of anyone else’s hands on him but Steve’s makes Billy angry; it makes him aware that he’s anything but a threat because humans, at the end of the day, are the real monsters. Billy’s seen destruction, and he knows that Steve is on a boat out of basic survival, but that doesn’t mean his comrades wouldn’t turn at the opportunity for fresh meat.

It is, after all, why they fish in the depths of the ocean, far beyond what their eyes can see.

“Billy,” Steve says, coaxing him out of his panicked thoughts.

It works like a charm, tension fading, Billy attempting to slump back down into the water, back to safety, until Steve doesn’t let him.

The rocking of the water is usually the comfort his kind seek, the deep sway of ocean as it’s pulled by the wind, by the currents, and other sea life. Billy doesn’t thrive off of contact, not since he’s learned that that’s the human’s way, but Steve’s careful fingers--cold from the chill in the air, reproachful from caution--meet the curve of his cheek in the softest touch Billy knows he’s ever received.

He doesn’t mean to, but Billy curls into it. His features fall into comfort while the flutter of his heart is felt so deeply in his chest. Billy flicks his gaze over Steve’s, meets steely brown eyes that examine him so closely. “I wouldn’t do that,” he finally says, the conviction laced within his words. “I wouldn’t tell them about you.”

Relief had already flooded Billy long ago, so the tightening in his tummy is something different. Billy can’t explain it, and he doesn’t know that he wants to because something delicate has blossomed between them.

Steve releases a gentle smile, thumb brushing the corner of Billy’s lip, and he thinks if he’d reached a litter further, maybe Steve would like the taste--the taste of salt water and Billy and the humbled knowledge that what they’re doing isn’t necessarily okay--

But maybe it doesn’t have to be bad either. Maybe Billy could deal with a cruel fate if it meant he’d forever have Steve’s attention.

[beaubcxton]

“You’re so brew-tiful, Snow.”

For @recgulus on her birthday. I love you & I hope you enjoy this 5.8kish mess. What is canon, right? Also, I made Simon say Crowley because I really like the word even if it doesnt have any context here. This is rushed but like, enjoy.

It happens on a Monday. Of course, it does Nothing good ever happened on a Monday.  Simon should have known to keep his head low on a day like this. Children sobbing was the welcome tune that announced the beginning of a new day, fingers stumbled on the steering wheel; a sign that the night before might have been exhilarating but now was just, tiring. Mondays were like the thorns in a bed of roses.

Back in the day when his dad was still decent, his father warned him to take care of himself. ‘Nothing like a Monday, mate. Can’t smoke or drink, can ya?’ And Simon had smiled toothily at his father, shrugging off the advice like it was dust that had found its way onto his coat.

He really really shouldn’t have done that.

Reason 1: His mom died two years ago in June on a Monday.

Reason 2: Agatha broke up with him last week. Surprise, surprise! It was on a Monday!

Reason 3: He just spilled hot coffee on the fittest guy in the world on a fucking Monday aka today.

---

“Simon!!”

Feet wheeling automatically at the familiar voice, I extend my arms right in time for Penelope Bunce to fling herself against my chest. Her giggles send a row of vibrations in me that shudder each bone. I-weirdly- find myself inhaling her hair as if to assure myself she’s there. (She smells of watermelon and ink. Typical of her to do something study related even on vacation ) I shift uncomfortably in the hug, her phone digging in my arm.

Pen is my best friend. Been since we were tiny tots. She'd been gone for nearly a month. Being the only person who included me in social ongoings also known as parties where you could get wasted, Penny was the Jake to my Boyle. When conversations had the opportunity to become awkward and stifling, Pen was pretty cool to divert my attention. We'd video called at least five times a week this month.

She pulls back, grins still wide on both of our faces and surveys her surroundings.

It’s earlier than I would like it to be; it’s just barely afternoon and I’ve been awake since dawn. It’s a tiny cafe, huddled alone with its vivid hues of orange and brown amongst the grey concrete building. Good for business. Unlike the outdoors, the interior of the cafe’s temperature induced warmth and placidity. I usually notice several kids hunched and pored over their studying material. Textbooks that hid their anxious face from view are stacked on the tables, their coffees long since drained but I rarely pay attention to it, opting for my ‘want a free refill, mate?’ chime. Employed at the beginning of fall, I was given only a few days to suit the shop with the atmosphere outside. Pumpkins decorate the cashier desk and they’ve been carved to look like famous people. My favorite one is the one that looks like Miley Cyrus. Strings of lights, the ones you get in IKEA fall from the ceiling casting a mellow glow in the gloominess of the upcoming winter.

“I can’t believe you work here now.” She huffs, still having a staring competition with one of the pumpkins. Taylor Swift must have won because my best friend snaps her gaze towards me as if waiting for an explanation. I know where she's going with this and I have no intention whatsoever to get into it. It'll just end with her storming out or worse so I just hum in agreement or whatever she expects from me.

Surprisingly between tucks of hair and another staring completion with Shawn Mendes, she tells me, “It’ll be good for you. I hope, at least. You’ve been a mopey mess since Agatha, now don’t give me that look Si. You know it’s true. I told you not to get involved with her but-“

I will my jaw and heart to loosen. “Missed you Pen.”

Her teasing and motherly grin could light the whole shop up. “Micah and I missed you too.”

My smile wavers. Right. Her boyfriend in America. Really decent bloke, always up for the occasional drag though he’s a right wanker when he’s reading a book. We get along swimmingly. And it's not like I like like Penny but whenever she talks about Micah, it reminds me of my recent break up with Agatha. Someone who I thought I'd spend my life with. For fuck's sake, we're twenty-three. I'd be Pinocchio if I told you that I didn't go ring shopping.

“Simon?” I run a hand through my hair and grimace when it comes out sticky. I haven't talked about Agatha since she broke up with me.

“I’m alright,” I say and conclude the statement by sending her a shaky smile. Penny looks wary but doesn’t do something weird like putting her hand on my shoulder or lending me a hug. I’m grateful for it but also resentful.

The door tinkles and-

“Simon Snow?”

My first thought is ‘Fuck me.’ My second is ‘I’m going to act like a dunce. Crowley, this boy knows my name.’ And my third is nothing.

I go blank. Nada and nil, both poetic wonders dance from my tongue. Penny pinches my arm. I can see her smirking and hiding a giggle but I don’t reproach her for it. Not when Adonis is standing right in front of me, his muscular form a barrier against the cool wind he’s brought with the open door. With slanted eyebrows and thin lips, he looks like someone you’d see in portraits at castles, despite the smirk on his face.

“Simon Snow?” He calls out again and I watch mesmerized as his mouth opens and pronounces my name. I flush. It’s probably in my best intentions if I don’t drool over a customer and with hardly any cool, I raise my arm up like a moron and squeak out a “Here?” like we’re kids and back to roll call.

Super Fit bloke- as I recently decided to call him in my head- shifts his searching glance and focuses on me and I almost reel back in surprise. He’s wearing a hat that shadows his features but even blind, I’d recognize him anywhere. His eyes are grey and unlike anything that I’ve seen. It’s like a storm in there and I’m captivated by observing them. It’s so different watching them up close, up person in daylight than stalking his Instagram profiles at 2am.  And his hair is carefully messed up in an extravagant manner, dark and shiny locks peeking out lazily.

I'm speechless. This is the best day of my life.

“Bastillon Pitch?”

My mouth blurts the words out but I suspect even if I had time, I’d say those same words. That same name. Do you know who is standing in my-not mine but you get the point- coffee shop right now? Award winning and three-time Oscar nominee, Bastillon Pitch. He has nine million and seven thousand followers on Instagram (not that I would know) and he’s been called to Ellen which he’s refused, by the way. For all my understanding (and obsessive knowledge) about  him, I could never understand why he would do that. I mean, who refuses Ellen? That’s like refusing chocolate. Only a few months older than me, he’s the youngest actor to star in so many bloody iconic movies.

The man grimaces and looks around to see if anyone’s heard my exclamation but that would be ridiculous because the only people in the room are him, Pen, me and two ladies with floral blouses and wrinkled fingers. The latter are deep in conversation and are stealing glances at us occasionally to check whether we’re eavesdropping. They’re loud so that’s taken care of. In the seventeen minutes that they’ve been there, I’ve learned that they are lesbians whose gay son eloped with a girl. I'd like to say that's the strangest thing I've heard but it doesn't even rank top ten in today's conversations.

“I go by Baz and shut up, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rathe dumb, aren’t you? You’re the barista here?” His voice is smooth and dark like wine drunk on a summer night. The tone, however, implies he thinks I’m incompetent. It’s like he’s trying to convey, ‘You? You’re the barista here? Seriously?’ I feel like I’ve been slapped. Hurt and embarrassment course through me simultaneously.

It’s not every day that one gets to meet their fucking celebrity crush but well (I like boys too, you see) I imagine I’m handling it rather well, never mind that my face is probably beet red and I’m this close to stammering. Don’t give me that look. ‘Baz’ Pitch is literally an icon. He’s acted in several movies and he’s so good at it that I get goosebumps watching him. And Crowley, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t the fittest person I’d seen in my life. 10/10 ass and a perfect asshole. I don’t think I can handle his fucking beautiful lilt this early in the morning what with Agatha presence still ghosting my mind. Bastillon Pitch or not.

“Yes.” I bite. “Why?”

“Just expected a bit more, I suppose. Most baristas have a uniform” He breaks off suddenly and stretches hard like, his shirt literally goes up and I have a view of strained muscles. Crowley. I’m staring at it so hard I’m not aware he’s speaking till he coughs. Shit. I want to wipe that smirk off.

“You seem like the type of guy to like Brooklyn Nine-Nine but you don’t even wear a uniform so I can’t consider you a true fan. Seriously Snow, who wears that to work?” His mouth is opening and closing but all I hear from him is the sign ‘I’m a prick.’

“Sorry, we can’t look like posh assholes all the time.”

He rolls his eyes again at my attempted jab. “You-“

“You  know,-“ I interrupt loudly, “-I wonder if you keep rolling your eyes because you’re trying to find a brain back there.”

The asshole grins and I’m disarmed by the beauty of it for a moment. His teeth do not contrast well with his tanned appearance. They look almost yellow in the dim light of the coffee shop but they’re sharp. I oddly wonder if he’s played a vampire. But then I know he’s not. I’ve watched all of his movies. Twice. Okay, thrice.  (And maybe a few more times after that)

“Touche” As he walks towards me, I can swallow my disgust. He’s so damned tall. Seriously what was the point of these people with their ridiculous heights of six foot when I, a mere mortal was just five foot one? (I never said I wasn't dramatic.)  “I didn’t expect it from you. Soft, aren’t you Snow?”

Pen, the traitor is nicely backing away.

“Soft?” I splutter manically even though I know being soft is wonderful but Bastillion Pitch cannot know in any universe that Simon Snow is soft. It would not bode well on his impression of me.

He grins wolfishly. “Shame.”

Shame? Shame? What does that even mean?

His sudden bark of laughter shakes the bloody walls. “Flustered, mate?”

​Oh. Oh. Pen has long since retreated, thankfully because I wouldn’t feel like quitting if she was here. It’s just like the universe to make the (EX) love of my life an arse who has no consideration for my feelings. I admonish myself for sounding like a sap.

“I only get flustered in front of cute. Hot, hot people.”

Predator smirk combined with no reply sets me on edge. “What do you want?”

“Good grades but I already have them. Do you, Snow?”

I try not to let the bitterness seep into my tone. Of course, acting isn’t enough for the Great Bastillon Pitch. He’d have to study and rank too, possibly. I couldn’t understand why he’d need to work with all that money.

“Stop calling me that.”

Damn, how does he raise just one eyebrow?

“It’s a name, Snow. Surely, even you know what their purpose it?”

What? I’m so confused right now. I rack my brains and ask myself if I’ve done anything to warrant such behavior but I come out short. Did I bump into him on the street and not apologize? Kick his dog? No to both because I’d remember being a shithead. I don’t want to be on bad blood with Bastillon Pitch, however, so I try to rein my irritation in. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.

“What are you majoring in?”

He stares at me. Blinks. Stares. “I want to become a lawyer.” He draws out the words like he thinks I’m a moron.

Who knew it’d be hard to have a conversation with Bastillon Pitch? Not me.

“I think you playing a vile asshole has rubbed on your in real life personality.” This time, I’m teasing.

His laughter is a sound I’ve not heard before. It’s warm and cold, both at once like he’s rarely had the opportunity to full on laugh, uncontrolled and unpracticed and he’s not sure how to excel in the skill. I think that irks him, not being able to control it because he stops quickly though I won't forget how, for a moment, his eyes crinkled shut and how his fingers curled in. I shiver.

It’s like someone has clicked a button on his personality. His face becomes a mask of nonchalance. “Coffee.” He orders. “Tall and with milk.”

Disappointment finds its way to me. Despite the ongoing insults, it was exciting to spar with someone. I’m just usually bored here. I grind the dusty little machine on (it’s certainly not Starbucks material) and waits for the hum that it’s working before I assemble the milk and sugar, distinctly aware that eyes are trailing me.

“You’d be a good lawyer,” I say suddenly as I pour a teaspoon of milk in, anxious to continue the conversation. His eyes widen. “Make people all mad and that. That be two pounds.”

His lips twitch as he silently hands over the money. I draw up the bill and as I’m handing over the coffee, full to the brim in a paper cup. His nails brush the desk as he leans forward, breath warm against my cheek as he murmurs, “You’ve got a nice arse, Snow.”

And because, I’m Simon Snow, because I’m a walking disaster, because Bastillon Pitch is an asshole who deserves it, I splutter and my hands shake for one infinite second before the cup goes down, falling and the piping beverages jumps onto Baz’s leather clothes.

Times stops in that standstill of a second. Nothing moves. In that second, I’m not an idiot but the spell is broken and I realize what an A class clown I am.

“You’ve got a little coffee there.” I murmur, mortified as Bastillon Bloody Pitch stares at himself for several seconds before his charged animal eyes hook me in place.

“What the fuck, Snow?”

I splutter maniacally, flinging drool here and there. Sending a plea to the ground to swallow me up, I stumble in my haste to get some towels. I start to dab one on his chest and flush when I realize I’m essentially touching his breasts. I am touching Bastillon Pitch, Oh my Gosh.

Do not think about that, Simon Snow. Do not think about that.

Baz pushes me off and tugs the towel and wipes himself. He’s snarling and his eyes have darkened but I (shockingly) notice pink coloring his cheeks.

“Rubbing it won’t help, Bastillon. You’re supposed to dab-”

“I reckon you’d know a lot about this. This your ninth time dropping coffee on a customer? And I go by Baz, how many fucking times-”

I raise my hands and back away. He seems almost embarrassed but I do not want to be in the way of an angry ‘Baz’  Penny, please be there. “I’m sorry. Coffee’s on the house.”

“THERE IS NO COFFEE, TO BEGIN WITH!”

Well, he has a point there. I concede defeat and murmur apologies. Baz drops the towel on the floor like a wanker and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him and the texture of frost whipping across my face for a millisecond as I process the previous events.

The old ladies are looking at me and grinning. I bury my hands in my face and groan.

I could not catch a break.

---

“Snow!”

Fuck. What is he doing here? I shut my eyes for a second, try to collect any calm in this universe and curse softly.

“SNOW!”

I move out from the kitchen and press my apron, hastily. The warm aroma of coffee ground hits me as I step out the door and face to Bastillon.

“Hey.”

He sneers. “Where's the apron?”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look down at myself, just to double check. I had worn it.

“What are you on about, mate? It's right here.” I say and gesture to my clothes.

Surprisingly, Baz flushes and growls out, “Where's my apron, you moron?”

I know he's trying to be a really tough boy and crap but whenever he growls, it sounds really cute, almost like he's imitating a baby bear. I have the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks and coo over him.

“Snow!”

He even has the personality of a bear.

“Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”

Baz shutting his eyes will forever be one of the most dramatic and exaggerated actions  in the world. It's like one of those slow things. First, he twists his fingers and they curl around the table. Then, his lips purse. All the while his eyes are slowly shutting. Maybe, he took classes for that.

“I said,” He manages to say. “Where the fuck is my apron?”

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Look mate, I can make you a cup of perfectly fine coffee, provided you don't startle me like-”

“Urgh!” Baz implores to some deity. “I’m working here, you dumbass.”

I freeze.

There is no way I heard correctly.

“What?”

“Fucking Crowley.” He murmurs, throwing his look downwards.

Just when you think life’s picking up, when you finally move on from the incidents of yesterday and go a few hours without this complete and utter arse, Bastillon Pitch drops in and says, “Hey! I‘m going to work with you. ”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Crowley, I'm going to need to tell my aunt about you.”

Somewhere inside me, my heart stumbles. “What?”

“My aunt?” Baz smirks. “The owner?”

Are you serious? Someone up there had it out for me. Embarrassment rings through me.

Pinching my lip, I have a revelation about what I must do. Alrighty then. I give him my apron and resign. Guns and Roses blare in the background as I do this mighty and heroic deed. I leap off the platform, pluck my sunglasses off and kiss the mole on Bastillon face because no matter how much of an asshole he is, I will forever be attracted to him before I pull away and slam the door on my way out.

Well, I imagine all of this. Could you tell? I really cannot believe my luck. Now, his aunt who I assumed was a perfectly good woman is going to fire me and I’ll live on the streets for all eternity. Staring at how happy Bastillon looks with the bombshell he's just dropped doesn't help me in the slightest. Moving to get him an apron, I throw it towards him and cross my arms as a thought strikes me.

“When did you start?”

Chuckling low and warm, Baz pulls the apron on top of himself and smiles. “And here I thought you were dull.  Yesterday.”

Xxxxxxxxx                                         

We’ve settled into a routine. Baz and I. It’s really just one rule though we’ve found it hard to obey. Do not interfere with the other.

Sometimes, I’m making coffee when Baz leg brushes against mine and while both of us turn pink, I choose not to say anything while he goes into a rage about how I’m an imbecile who hogs all the space and how ‘you hog all the space with your fucking stupidity, Snow!’

So I’d retaliate. The other day, for example, he’d asked me for a cuppa. He was on break and by obligation, I had to make him one so I set out to make a cup of tea when this brilliant idea struck me. I boiled the gatorade up and put it in a cup with sugar on its side. Waiting patiently as he raised his eyebrows, sipped the tea and then, spat it out, I couldn’t help but feel vicious satisfaction.

We play a bunch of games too. Not the friendly ones that children in playgrounds do but the ones that people with no lives and who thrive on annoying their rival do.

One of them is the growling game; every time, we roast each other and someone doesn’t retort but growls, loses. The other is The Quick Game; we have a tally on who serves the most customers. So far, Baz is winning by a marginal. (a lot) My favorite is the Embarrassment Game; when we’re talking to customers, we tell them ridiculous things about the other. Baz, of course, started it first. He had told one of my favorite customers that I’m a rather dull kid and his aunt had hired me in pity. I had told the next customer he was gay. He, surprisingly, didn’t have anything to say to that and we haven’t played the game since.

---

“You’d think that a barista would know how to make a cup of coffee.” Baz is saying to his aunt, Fiona who is coincidentally my boss. Did I mention that before? We’re at her office, not because she’s called me though that was what I was led to believe, cue angry glare at the boy on my left. “But Snow dropped the whole fucking mug, sorry, freaking mug on me on my first day and I had to go home.” Baz added, opting for a pout.

Crowley, he looks brilliant. Bugger. We’re playing the Embarrassment Game again and I am not ready, for once.

I try to display some professional mannerism. Might as well look good before I was fired. Still, I feel melancholic as I rack my brains about my future prospects. What would I work as now? Who’d want to hire me? The guy who can’t hold a cup of coffee? I wouldn’t hire me. I can’t help but feel resentment towards Baz.

“Simon.” Fiona reproaches, leaning forward, hands crinkling some papers as she does so. I liked Ms. Pitch. Despite her hubris and ridiculous attire; fluffy clothes that suited a ball venue and not a coffee shop, she was sweet when you (really) got to know her. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine her to be connected to Baz Pitch. It was typical of my luck for my rival’s aunt to be my boss. “I am very disappointed in you.”

My eyes shut, ashamed. You’d think I’d be used to it, right? The shouts that I’m not good enough but-

“You should have poured the whole bloody machine on his head. He certainly deserves it!”

Baz’s eyes widen proportionally while my mouth drops open.

“What?” We both articulate.

Ms. Pitch goes on as if she hasn’t heard out exclamations. “I thought I couldn’t love you anymore. I was wrong.” Her eyes fixate on me and I stare back, stupefied.

“Go on, then! You have a coffee shop to run.”

As I’m leaving, she says, “And Simon? Expect a raise soon.”

The door slams shut before I can express my stupefied gratitude. I think of going in, again but then I hear Baz’s groans and protests and my feet express a desire to get away, as quickly as possible.

Xxxxx

“Hey, Baz?” I begin, crumpling the cupcake wrapper in a ball and stuff the cake in my mouth. We’re on lunch break now. Sitting right in front of me is Baz though his focus is on his phone and not me. It’s a real pity. Is my sarcasm obvious? I wonder if he’s hungry. Looks like he’s starving. That would explain his pallid color. I know he’d prefer sitting away from me but it’s either here, in the kitchen or outside and attending to people. Every introvert’s worst nightmare. “Baz?”

He rolls his eyes at his phone and cranes his neck upwards. “What, Snow?”

I tsk. He’s like a fucking crab, always ready to bite my head off even though I’m perfectly pleasant. I suspect that even if the Queen of England were to knock, he’d slam the door in her face, grumbling about something.

“Do you ever eat?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes before he scoffs. “No, Snow. I don’t. I’m a vampire and I drink blood.”

I grin toothily at him. They’re probably yellow and red, resultants of the red velvet cupcake and gummy bears I had for lunch.

“Always knew you were a soul-sucking monster.”

Baz turns back to his phone though I can see a hint of a smile at his lips.

---

The other day, word got out that the Bastillon Pitch works at a humble cafe so we’ve been swarmed by teenage girls. Baz, true to his credit, threw them a stellar personality before he said rather dismissively, “We’re closing early! Technical issues.”

I had thrown him a look. “Baz. We worked at a cafe.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I rolled my eyes and sent his fans a smile but they ignored me. “Can you sign this, Baz?” “Baz! Will you marry me?”

The requests were strange but Bas took them in stride. Soon, we had most of them out but camera lights still flashed in out direction. When we decided to close for the day, Baz and I lazed about in the room. Him working on study material and I worked on getting my Tumblr theme.

“I don't understand what those girls see in you.”

Baz barely spares me a glance as his fingers click the keyboard.

“I’m an actor, Snow.”

“And a real-life vampire.”

Baz grins. Hides it. “What are you studying?”

“I don't go to college anymore.”

“Oh?” Baz seems surprised. “If you wanted money, you could ask-”

I don't know if he's jesting or being genuinely kind but it stings me, regardless. “I don't want to go.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

---

“Sorry! I’m latte!” The pun comes naturally as I burst in the coffee shop, almost an hour late. The bell tinkles as I run towards the cashier.

Baz is leaning against the counter, no customers in sight. It’s a slow day. But apparently, I’ve made a horrendous mistake as Baz folds his arms over his chest and stares me down, the textbook picture of condescension.

“Thank Crowley” I breathe as I pull over my apron. Normally, I’m not late. I’m really not but today, right as I was about to leave the flat, Agatha comes barging in, tears cascading down her pretty face. Her mascara was smudged so I’d known she had been crying for hours.

“What’s wrong?” I had set her down on the sofa and went off to make some tea. That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Agatha started going on about how she missed me and agreed that maybe, we should have given us another shot.

“Let’s get back together, Si, alright?” Agatha had said, staring at me with those bluebell eyes I had grown so accustomed and fond of seeing.

And then, I had a revelation. I did not want us anymore. It wasn’t so much that I was afraid of being hurt again but something else. I had moved on. It felt weird because I was so used to being in love with her, I forgot the feeling of not loving her. And, this feeling was so great I wanted to giggle but I couldn’t do that, not with Agatha flooding my apartment with her tears so I had steered her out and said very softly, mind you that ‘No, I’m sorry, Aggy but no.”

Now, here I was, still panting and victim to ‘Bastillon Pitch Full On Glare’, something I did not want to ever see. He’d looks like he’s swallowed dung. So fucking angry.

“I met up with Agatha.” I say, shortly. That does not dissuade him in the slightest. If I had to say, he looked even angrier. I had rambled about my ex to him in the past weeks. I wish I hadn’t.

“Oh,” He says cooly. “And, I suppose the lovely pair has gotten together again?”

“I didn’t want to.” I pacify him and he cools down, slightly.

“Oh.” He sounds like Christmas has come early. Wanker.

“I can’t expresso your attitude-”

Baz groans. “Stop with the fucking puns, Snow. You’ve been on them since yesterday.”

“And you’re still not used to it? Oh, bugger.” I mock a sympathetic sigh.

And then out of the blue, he says something that sends my heart which is already pounding a million miles per hour, race again because he’s looking at me like that and the twat leaves the room after he says it, like he knows I can’t chase him after the bombshell he’s just dropped.

He stares me right in the eye and says, disinterestedly, “I’m gay.”

Xxx

Ever since he’s told me he’s gay, I feel like something’s changed between us. Do I tell him I’m gay or bisexual too? It’s gotten awkward. I tried to talk to him and transfer the message that I’m not homophobic to him but he gets all clammy if I’ve walked two steps up to him and begin with ‘Baz?’

Normally, I don’t let this bother me. We get on each other’s nerves. Totally normal if I kept persisting. But he looks genuinely uncomfortable and he probably regrets telling me even though I don’t know why he’s told me in the first place, to begin with. I steer out of his way the rest of the day.

As the day progresses, he gets even more on edge, nearly snapping at an old lady who couldn’t see the menu. I try to manage the orders and let him work near the machines. But after, he kicks the machine that we all know doesn’t work, I give up trying to soothe him.

When two people have filed a complaint, I almost facepalm. My killer headache helps in making my day worse. With that and Baz’s mood swings, there’s nothing more I want but to go back home. But of course, that’s when the day gets worse.

It’s nearly night when Fiona rings us up. She rarely comes to the shop but does her paperwork at home. Efficient and tactical.

Baz picks up the phone and I can hear Fiona’s distant chattering but I focus more on Baz’s darkening face. Suddenly, he slams the phone down and tells me, “Close down.”

“It’s not 8pm, yet,” I state, dumbly.

“Fast, you imbecile.”

“But-”

That is, of course, when the lights flicker off and we’re buried in darkness. Baz’s shadow stands out prominently, in front of me and his groan followed by a curse, splits the air.

“Blackout.” Baz explains when I continue staring as he drops on the ground. I rub my eyes and lean against the counter. This was perfect. Fiona had installed those automatic doors today in the afternoon, the ones that functioned on electricity so we were locked in. Two rivals trapped in a room together. Maybe, once I went insane, psychologists could study me and they’d be shocked with the observations.

And maybe, they'd be surprised at how much I still like Bastillon Pitch.

---

Charcoal darkness has winnowed in and coated us with anxiety and tension. There were no curtains so we’d stumbled behind the counter, afraid and weary.

“Sleep in the kitchen?” I say as we’re munching leftovers.

“You can take the kitchen.” He's talking to me. “I’ll sleep here.”

Scoffing, I nudge him with my foot which apparently sets him off. “Don't be ridiculous, Baz. We’re thin enough to fit in the kitchen.”

It'll be cramped and we’ll be arm to arm but I wager we’ll manage.

Baz tears through the bread with his teeth. “Fine.” He bites off.

My foot starts to sleep so I shake it.

“Would you stop doing that?” Baz murmurs after a few minutes. He sounds agitated as he rubs his head. We’re just sitting in darkness now, doing nothing but analyze each other.

“What?”

“Shaking your fucking foot, Snow. I'm trying to sleep.”

My jaw clenched. He was so infuriating sometimes. “You are not sleeping here.”

“Oh?” Baz scoffs, curling into the wall. “Since when do you care? You’re always running after-”

I let out an angry cry. And I don't think, I do. I want him to shut up. Surging forward, I notice how Baz’s monologue starts to delve. He has his eyes shut, I faintly register before I tilt my head and kiss him.

Bas stills and sags beneath my palms like I’m draining all of the oxygen in him. And Crowley, he’s so warm. I care, I try to tell him. You're the sun and I'm crashing into you. You mean so much to me.

I'm leaning over and when he doesn't respond, I pull away, disappointed and embarrassed. He's breathing heavily and I can see his grey beautiful eyes stare at me, wide with shock. I'm stumbling to get away when I fall into his lap. Pushing away, I’m horrified and about to fucking shoot myself.

All I can think about is how the door is locked and I'm trapped with a guy who's probably going to sue me because I assaulted him and oh my god, what am I-

“Snow.” Baz murmurs.

“Here,” I repeat like so long ago.

“Snow, what the fuck?” Baz is already departing his wall. At least, he’s engaged in being frustrated.

“Look, just don't tell the table-”

Baz tsks. “You’re such a moron, Snow.”

I splutter but then he kisses me.

And my mind goes blissfully blank.

---

We sleep in the kitchen that night, my arm draped across his body and his fingers twitching for me.

There’ll be time to talk about what I am, what we are later. How it’ll affect the press and other matters.

For now, it doesn't matter. We don't care. It's just us, two boys who’ve found solace and whose heart aches for the other, suspended in the dark, in time.

It's Baz and me.