#her flounder and fuck everything up and become even worse of a person and not even feel guilty abt it

[arolesbianism]

If I was more of a fanfic writer I would totally write like 50 oni timeloop ai fics and Id have to fight myself so hard to not make Olivia a significant part of all of them. Just like yeah Quinn timeloop au. They and Olivia regular at the same bar actually. Don't worry abt it.

[lunaryrs]

👯‍♀️ bristol & sienna

sidebar before we begin i'd love to know what sienna's dynamic is like with Austin. I feel like she'd just innately feels superior to him. like this cosmic sense that yeah, bitch, my mother was clearly destined to assert yourself as some iteration of your sister-in-law in this lifetime. and now here I am. I know you have games on your phone, I saw you struggling to beat 2048. hand it over. okay anyway i don't know why but I feel like bristol's relationship w the Lancaster girls moreso than Kali and Zara Tate is like girlmore girl-esque in the sense that I think bristol took a little longer to Advance here she stayed younger longer and I think walked a very fine line between mother and bestie and teetered over a whole lot. sienna, her first baby girl. toted her around on her hip like an accessory, with her big brown eyes and button nose. she was beautiful and charismatic like her parents. a little funny, even. probably a product of all the big personalities around her. bristol was just so, so proud of her. loved to fucking talk about her. probably made people talk about how much she was talking about her. annoying levels of adoration. on a good day, sienna might say bristol taught her everything she knows. they were almost certainly sharing distressed cutoffs and band tees the second sienna could fit into them. bristol took her to go get her nose pierced when she was 13, belly button would've happened soon after if Aaron didn't enforce an 16-year age minimum. sienna certainly got shit for the first backpack full of empty beer cans and the infected stick-and-poke on her rib, but bristol didn't do too much in the way of setting limits or enforcing consequences. she didn't want to alienate her girl more than the *gestures vaguely* of teenage girlhood already did run w this idea for me: i think one of bristol's great heartbreaks was that whole period when sienna started to detach, grow up, do her own thing. I could see them having a really tumultuous relationship in her teens. prior to becoming a mom, bristol was just flitting around. she wasn't tied to anything because she didn't want to be. sienna was unexpected and for a little bit an uncertainty but then all at once immediately bristol's everything once she was born. she didn't want to let her go. she fought her, resisted it. tried to cling, pushed her away more. was devastated, lashed out at times. it was a little juvenile but no one teaches you how to be a mom; certainly not her own mom, and even though she had somewhat comparable experience formerly parenting her mother's own kids, it didn't feel like that when her siblings grew up. she was floundering. during that time, there was almost like a sick satisfaction when there was a hard time because then maybe there was like giving sienna a pedicure on the back porch or snuggling her a little before bed. those little moments where she'd let bristol back in again. she ached for them. same with noa but their fights were worse bc noa's a smart little cunt. also in adulthood? sienna is shown overt favoritism. noa's in law school but sienna made bristol a GILF. there was never a question.

[leporellian]

ok. rigoletto headcanons. here we go

i love rigoletto. both the opera and the character. here are some headcanons about both. source: i know everything

first off. i think rigoletto, gilda, and sparafucile are all autistic but in different directions

rigoletto and gilda are both very outwardly expressive autistics, both verbally and visibly. sparafucile meanwhile is not very expressive at all and is generally very quiet, and has maybe 4 facial expressions at most. (usually he looks... very focused but also vaguely confused.)

science is unsure if rigoletto and gilda are expressive bc of the autism or because they are italian. (sparafucile and maddalena meanwhile are french but we will get to them eventually.)

also i think rigoletto is trans. world's first jester with transmasc swag. transjester, if u will. 'why' again i just know everything

also i think rigoletto is 40, gilda is 15, and sparafucile and maddalena are both 38 (but distinctly have the energy of like.... ageless cartoon characters). i will mostly be writing these about those 4 because while i am aware i COULD make headcanons abt like. monterone or giovanna or whoever. i don't have the Autism focused on them atm. maybe later

in my mind, rigoletto was abandoned at an orphanage when he was a baby. nobody knew what his parents were like, or why they abandoned him

rigoletto himself has always suspected it was because of his kyphosis, but a very small part of him wonders if they did want him and just couldn't provide for a baby. (he isn't sure if this would be better or worse)

he grew up in an orphanage but was never adopted or even really taken into consideration to be adopted, mainly because- besides his disability- he always Did have a bit of anger about him and wasn't the easiest kid to get along with. eventually he aged out of the orphanage and ran off to start his own life; i imagine he did have a bit of a creative streak to him but he realized his options were limited as a disabled person back in Ye Olde Times, and that led him to be a jester

(in a modern au where things aren't As depressing (and, later on, gilda does not die because while i realize the story hinges on that its MY emotional support modern au and I get to choose how actually narratively sensical it is): rigoletto was also born and given up pretty early on, but instead he floundered in the foster system, handed over between households but never actually adopted. he aged out of the system, took a couple of gap years, and then went off to study politics- only to realize in the last year of his program that he Fucking Hated politics and would rather write comedy.)

i can't imagine him ever having had a wife, tbh. (i know it says that in the libretto but i know everything.) i imagine gilda was an accident baby created out of wedlock, and that rigoletto Had considered giving her up for adoption, but then realized like... he couldn't stand the idea of her going through the exact same cycle he did, and never being adopted, and becoming cynical and bitter like him. from the very start rigoletto's fear has been the idea of his daughter turning out just like him. and so he decided to raise her instead

(not helping the above is that i imagine gilda to be physically disabled as well- i draw her as having a missing arm since birth- so there's an additional 'fuck fuck fuck she can't turn out like me' there. anyway this makes the tragedy of the opera worse in some ways i think. :) )

gilda is an absolute horse girl i think

i'm biased bc i am, obviously, a warrior cats kid but in a modern au (or. an au where warrior cats is somehow existent in the 16th century.) gilda 100% had an insane warrior cats phase also.

in general i think gilda should be a little insane in the like. 'tells you gruesome facts out of nowhere just to make things interesting' way. like i'm sorry look at her dad she has Strange genes. also she deserves a personality

sparafucile and maddalena, meanwhile, are french (they're foreigners from burgundy, remember). they are twins- maddalena was born at around 11:40 on september 30, and sparafucile was born just after midnight on october 1. both siblings have been using this factoid to annoy each other as long as they've been aware of it.

they were born into poverty, with parents that were too occupied with other things at best and outright negligent at worst, and were often forced to fend for themselves.

sparafucile was born missing a leg, and was just... naturally very weak and sickly (ironically up until he was about twelve he was much shorter than maddalena even though as an adult he's taller than her). maddalena was always very protective of him when they were kids, and sparafucile never forgot that- which is much of why he's so protective of her in turn when they're adults.

neither really had the financial opportunity to make their situation much better- and when they did try they often ended up abused

sparafucile killed the first guy on accident. i don't know the specifics of it but it was definitely on accident. he realized that there was no way he was getting out of that scot-free bc. well. he is poor and nobody but his sister knows him. so he just sorta... stuck with it

also his special interest is knives so. not all bad? i guess? ?????

(if you were wondering: i think gilda's special interest is just... weird animal facts and rigoletto's is. actually i don't know what rigoletto's is. finding new ways to be rude to people, i guess.)

(he feels very bad that maddalena got involved with the whole thing. maddalena however... seems to enjoy it, somehow.)

in a modern au i think sparafucile would be a lawyer. idk he's got that sort of energy. maddalena... i could see her being a bartender or something. she would just love to have a job where she can talk people's ears off.

also i will say it. whatever was going on in that duet between rigoletto and sparafucile in act 1. it certainly was not entirely heterosexual.

anyway there are definitely things i am forgetting that i'll shoot myself in the foot for not including later but i'll add those. at some point. eventually

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“I’m in love with you,” he asserts.   “Gross.”   Your answer is instinctive. But you’re not disgusted with him. Your features don’t twist. Your lips don’t become lopsided. Rather, the word is stated blankly. Impulsively. After all, you’ve conditioned yourself to respond like that — like anything in relation to romance is now awful.   “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs, hair shagging over his forehead as he looks down. “I know. I’m pretty disgusted with myself too. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you. Fucking head over heels and all that crap.”   You’re rendered speechless, about to ask him if he’s fucking with you, if this is some kind of sick joke.   But then suddenly, Jungkook sighs loudly, startling you. His rigid body deflates, the tension in his muscles leaves and he knocks his head back, taking a deep breath. “God, it feels so good to be honest. With myself and with you.”   The sun is setting over the horizon, the warmth soaking into his skin and softening his edges. The pair of you face each other in the middle of the empty sidewalk on an equally empty campus. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover.   You wonder how long he’s felt this way for.   You’re conflicted, unsure what to tell him. “Love’s a strong word, Jungkook.”   “I’m aware.”   “H-How are you even sure?”   The dark-haired man looks you in the eye, his own becoming half-lidded. His breathing turns shallow, heavy in his chest and out his parted lips. “I’m sure.”   You know Jungkook well enough to recognize his earnest sincerity. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his gaze nor his expression. He doesn’t waver once in his bold conviction. There’s only truth.   “Well…...shit.” The words sink into you. The claws and pointed ends of each syllable nick into your flesh. In an instant, your impassiveness is torn from you — your placid state taken — your stoic face uncovered. “Fuck. Fuck!”    You scream up into the sky, turning around, hands in your hair. What he’s saying registers and you hate it. You hate that love has to mess up every single relationship that you have. Goddamn. You can’t keep that disease away from affecting the people you care about most.   Jungkook watches you have the small meltdown with widened eyes, not sure what to do or say. But then you whirl around after a moment, determination set in your features. All of a sudden, you grab his hand, patting it with your other firmly as if you were a doctor coaxing and comforting a patient.   “We can overcome this together.”   “What?”   “It’s okay. This happens. If you’re friends with someone from the gender you’re attracted to, it’s natural you end up having a crush on them. It’s expected actually, considering we spend so much time together and interact so much. People encounter this issue all the time, but we can overcome it, Jungkook. Together.” You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I’ll help you get over me.”   Jungkook can feel his left eye twitching.   Of all responses, he did not expect this one. You’re acting like his therapist and that he’s got some kind of illness. You even end up thanking him for telling you the truth.   Jungkook might actually need to see a therapist after talking to you.

Infatuation only lasts so long. Personally, in your humble opinion, you aren’t hot shit anyway. You’re not that great. Jungkook will get over himself when he sees you for how you really are.   If anyone’s ever liked you, they won’t for long — you have evidence of that.   “Hey, buddy!” You give finger guns as a greeting, making sure to not get too close to him.   “You don’t need to patronize me.”   Your voice releases stiff laughter. “Alright, bro.” You put your fist out for a fist bump, but Jungkook completely ignores you. He walks right past you with his hands in the pockets of his open coat.   “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” he asks, briefly glancing over his shoulder.   You scoff.   Ever since the whole traumatizing confession, nothing’s changed. But at the same time everything has.   Jungkook doesn’t act any differently — he still glares at you, calls you stupid and a witch. But you also begin to notice how affectionate his physical gestures are, when he taps your arm, when takes your shoulder to guide you away from a crowd, when he pats your head.    And your efforts of keeping things as platonic as possible inadvertently makes everything awkward. It’s even worse now that you’re literally spending so much time with Jungkook. Exclusively. It’s just him, and for the months to come, it will only be him.   You’ve already decided within the first minute that you won’t ignore him or distance yourself. You can’t. Not with the upcoming internship, and not when you’ve had that happen to you. You won’t do such a cruel thing to someone else. Jungkook will always be your friend no matter what and you’ll make sure of that.   You catch up with him. “You know, I haven’t showered in days. This is like three-day old hair. Greasy, right? I just get so lazy showering.”   “Right.” He ignores you.   It goes silent and you noisily clear your throat. “Man, I had the worst shit today. It was explosive, dude.”   “You really think toilet humour is going to make me stop liking you?” Jungkook stops in his tracks and you halt in a delayed manner. He shifts towards you, glaring. “What do you take me for?”   You pout. “At least I’m trying.”   “Try harder.” He pauses. “For the sake of both of us.”   You’re befuddled over his answer and when he starts walking again, you quicken your pace to match his. “What? You don’t want to like me?”   “Not if you don’t want me to. I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he hums thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   “I already like you,” you mumble.   “See?” Jungkook points out abruptly as the corner of his mouth quirks into a subtle smile. “That’s not going to help with my situation.”   “Sorry.” Your cheeks puff in your pout.   “Neither is that,” He says and when you quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing, he grins boyishly. “Stop worrying about it before you give yourself wrinkles. Save your energy for the internship. I’m the least of your concerns.”   He’s wrong.    Jeon Jungkook is the biggest thing on your mind lately.

Kim’s Wedding Cake Company sits in the middle of Imlings Avenue.    It’s a bakery played in between two small boutiques. It has tan brick walls and the shop’s sign is slightly worn around the red letters, but still legible. The doorway is narrow and crowded by two large glass windows on either side that invites onlookers inside for a session of cake tasting.   The bell chimes as Jungkook pushes the door open, keeping it wide until you’re able to step in.   The cream walls and the floorboards create a cozy atmosphere like you’re home. But what sets it aside from an intimate abode is the paintings of wedding cakes on the walls and the rounded tables with chairs around them for customers to sit at.   A counter is curved at the corner of the room, cutting off the main area from the back. The moment the bell stops ringing, a short woman comes frantically stumbling out from the doorway.   “Welcome!”    She grins and the wrinkles around her eyes crease. Her brunette hair is in a bun, strays falling to frame her face. The woman is maybe around her early forties. “Congratulations on your engagement!” She grabs her binder and starts flipping. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Oh no! He and I…” You point at Jungkook and then back at yourself, flustered. “We’re not like that.”   Jungkook is holding back laughter, watching you flounder about. You’ve suddenly become so anxious at the idea that the pair of you are engaged. He turns away to look at the woman. “What she means is that we’re your interns.”   “Oh, thank god.” The woman sighs, stepping back. “For a second here, I thought I had completely forgotten about an appointment.” She turns on her feet, placing her hands on her hips and shouts, “Namjoon! Honey! We were supposed to get our interns today?!”   From the other room, a man’s voice screams back. “What?!”   She goes closer to the doorway, shrieking, “Our interns! Were they supposed to come today?!”   “No! They’re coming in a week from now!”   “Then why are they standing right here?!”   “What?!”   “Why are they standing here?!”   You exchange a look with Jungkook, not sure what’s going on. At the same time, a stocky, tall man in the traditional chef's uniform emerges — white double-breasted jacket, black pants and an apron. “I heard you, I heard you.”   “Did you mark it wrong in the calendar again?”   “I swear I didn’t—” The older man’s eyes widen as they catch the two of you standing there awkwardly. You lift your hand in salutation and he laughs. “Well, what do you know! Here they are, today! Welcome to our home!”   Namjoon opens the wooden separator, comes out and wipes his hands on his apron haphazardly to shake both of your hands. His wife sighs and follows closely to greet you. “You must be Y/N and Jungsook?”   “Jungkook,” he corrects in dismay while you try to hide your giggles.   “Right, right. My bad. My name is Namjoon and my wife here is Sejeong.”   Sejeong smiles. “I’m glad you’re both on board. Do you have any experience doing wedding cakes?”   “No, we haven’t.”   “It’s alright,” she reassures, “We’ll teach you along the way.”   “We need all the help we can get.” Namjoon sighs. “Ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, we’ve been swamped up to our chins. Doesn’t help that it’s wedding season.”   “Auntie.” A four foot eight girl comes out from the back, her long black hair tied into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and coral apron tied around her body. “The chocolate’s melted—”   The girl freezes on her spot, big eyes pinpointing onto Jungkook. You glance at him, and he looks at you with a small shrug.   “Has it?” Sejeong smiles and brushes past her. “I’ll go check.”   The younger girl doesn’t move and Namjoon smiles. “Oh, this is my eighteen year old niece, Yuna. She’s working here part-time to help out, mostly on the weekends when she’s not at school.”   “Nice to meet you.” She timidly approaches Jungkook, clearing her throat and batting her lashes at him.   Jungkook blankly shakes her hand. ���Hi.”   You extend your own hand and it’s only then that she seems to notice you and reluctantly shakes it. “I’m Y/N and this is Jungkook.”   “Jungkook,” she murmurs after you. “So you’re going to work here till August?”   “Yes, they will.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You should go help your aunt look at the chocolate, Yuna. You can only learn if you know what you did wrong or right.”   “Fine.” She exhales and drags her feet away, throwing a fleeting look to Jungkook over her shoulder.   Namjoon re-directs his attention to the two of you with a softened smile. “Let me show you around!”    The back area is a short hall that splits into three. The door to the left is a room with a table and chairs, posters of wedding cakes on the walls and happily married couples on their wedding day. “This is our only private room we have. It’s just in case a couple has a large party with them or would like some privacy when we have our consultation.”   You peek your head into the room across from it. “That is our staff room and our bathroom and where our offices are. You can always eat your lunch or take a break here.”   Namjoon leads you the other way and it’s to the place you know best — silver countertops, stoves, ovens, and sinks galore. “And this is our kitchen. We have a fridge here where we keep our cakes, a small fridge, our pantry. You’ll get yourself familiar pretty soon, don’t worry.”   You return from the tour back to the main area, asking questions along the way which Namjoon is happy to answer. The pair of you also offer more insight into what you know and he’s pleasantly surprised that his two interns are more experienced than expected.   “It can get pretty hectic around here during the wedding season. Some days we just have appointments and cake tasting all day. Other times, we’re rushing to make a wedding cake for the following day or we might be at the wedding venue getting it all set up. We usually open up shop around eight in the morning and you guys are let off at four.”   “Don’t worry, if we have to stay late to catch up on work or finish a cake up, you’ll get paid handsomely.” Namjoon grins. “We work five days a week. Sometimes you’ll have to come in on the Saturday if we have a wedding on Sunday, but it’s not often. Any questions? Comments?”   “Um…” You exchange expressions with Jungkook. “No, not really. I think we got it.”   Suddenly the older man bursts out laughing, startling you both. “You two don’t have to be so anxious! I was a student once too. Don’t they say wedding cake internships are one of the hardest ones you can take?”   “Uh.” Jungkook gingerly smiles. “We’ve heard of that.”   “Yep.” The older man bobs his head. “That’s what I thought. But don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t get on my wife’s bad side and you’ll be fine and dandy.”   “Are you talking badly about me?” Sejeong comes from the back, glaring at her husband.   “Oh, there she comes.” In spite of his playful warnings, Namjoon laughs, dimples marked on each side of his cheek. He leans over to plop a kiss at the top of her head and waltzes into the back, leaving her sighing.   “That man. Hopeless, I swear. Anyhow...I hope you both are ready!” Sejeong claps her hands together. “No time like the present to start learning and diving into it! We have a couple arriving in an hour for a consultation and I want you guys to lead. Should be easy enough!”   The two of you nod, preparing yourselves.   //   Both Namjoon and Sejeong give you a few moments to yourselves to breathe and not be overwhelmed. But you’re kind of excited. It’s a bit surreal that one moment you’re sitting in a lecture hall learning about theory and the next, you’re in the real world, about to apply all the knowledge you’ve gathered. For a while now, you’ve missed working and being more hands-on.   You glance down to your coral apron they gave you. Jungkook is in the same one and while he grumbled about not wearing much pink before, he looks cute in it. You wanted to take a picture but he didn’t let you. Self-conscious Jungkook is one you’ve seldom seen and admittedly, endearing.   “They seem really nice.” And in love. It’s pleasant to see. Even with how disgusting romance is.   It just isn’t often that you can look at a couple and not think about their inevitable doom.   “Yeah, they are. Thankfully. God knows how many strict head chefs are out there.”   You wonder what it’s like to own a business with your husband and work together all the time — though you don’t voice your question aloud. You have an inkling Jungkook would flirtatiously answer ‘that could be us’ and you don’t need to be distracted by him right now.   His presence is a distraction enough.   “How about Yuna though?” You elbow him lightly in the ribs, giving a nudge while wiggling your brows. “I think she likes you.”   Jungkook’s expression blanches. “She’s still in high school.”   “I’m just kidding—”   “And some other girl showing up is not going to stop me from liking you any less than I do,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, stating it like it’s a fact. He’s unaware of how your face heats.   You quickly take a drink of water in an attempt to cool down. Goddammit — he’s being a distraction already without you having to set him up.   “You still owe me that favour.” You clear your throat, changing the subject. “Remember? When you challenged me saying you could pipe better than I can temper chocolate.”   “I thought we called it even.” Jungkook grins, cutely with the mole dotted underneath his mouth.   “Nu-uh. That’s not fair and you know it.” You put your foot down. “We agreed the loser would have to cover for the winner when they go on break or make a mistake. And you lost, Jeon.”   “Already planning on making mistakes?”   You sulk. “No. I just want you to have my back.”   “You already have that,” Jungkook says tenderly with a smile. “And a lot more.”   Your mouth is filled with cotton. The corner of his mouth curls even more, relishing in your surprised expression. He doesn’t even bat a lash and merely looks away when the bell to the front entrance rings. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company.”   You tear your eyes away from Jeon Jungkook’s profile. “Do you have an appointment?”   “Yes, we do.” The woman smiles, dressed in a white beret and trench coat, her cheeks blushing. She’s accompanied by another woman in a leather jacket who’s holding her hand. “It should be under Lee.”   “You must be Sungkyung and Victoria, congratulations on your engagement.”   The both of them glance at each other, sharing giddy smiles. “Thank you.”   “Right this way.”   Jungkook leads them to one of the wooden tables, setting out a book as you grab the slices of cake on the plate from the back, all decorated and labeled. Sejeong who’s been watching at the counter gives an encouraging thumbs up.   “So your wedding is being held during the beginning of September?”   “Yes and we’re planning to cut the cake during the evening,” Sungkyung says as Jungkook jots it down on his sheet.   “Will this be an outdoor or indoor wedding?”   “We’re planning to have it outdoors in a garden.”   “That’s nice.” Jungkook smiles. “Do you have any themes in your wedding? Any colour scheme?”   “We have butterflies and we have green and purple as our colours.”   “And how many guests do you have?”   “About a hundred.”   “Okay.”   You come to the table with the long plate and two forks. Both of the women are excited, eyes lighting up as you place the cakes in front of them and take a seat beside Jungkook.    “This one is vanilla cake with buttercream. It’s simple, but a classic. This one is coconut cake with coconut cream. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with ganache, lemon with custard filling and fondant, strawberry with salted caramel filling and fondant, and the last one here is carrot cake with butterscotch sauce filling and chocolate buttercream icing. Take your time.”   “I really like this one,” Victoria whispers to her fiancée, fork points to carrot cake. “Or at least the icing part.”   “I prefer this one.” Sungkyung indicates the strawberry cake and takes another bite.   “We can always mix and match,” you tell them with a smile. “It’s possible to do strawberry cake with buttercream.”   “Buttercream usually tastes better than fondant, but if it’s hot outside, it might melt.” Jungkook’s brows knit together and you look at him, humming for a second.   “Well, we always put a layer of fondant over the buttercream so they also get that smooth look and we wouldn’t have to worry about melting.”   The boy nods. “Yeah, that would work.”    “That sounds really good.” The two women smile at each other. “How much would it cost?”   “Ummm…” Jungkook flips through the binder, memory failing him. He finally finds the table of all the prices on the tenth page. “For us, it depends on what kind of cake you end up choosing and how many tiers it’ll be, but it should be around four hundred to five hundred. For a hundred people, I’d recommend…..uh…”   “Three to four layers.” You finish his sentence and Jungkook looks at you gratefully.   You leave the two of them to finish up the cakes and to discuss with one another.   Sejeong who’s been waiting at the back has her compliments prepared. “Great job, you two. Couldn’t have done it better myself!”   It’s stressful to remember the details, but luckily Sejeong is merciful and allows the two of you to shadow her as she goes out to explain the designs, possible flower arrangements on the cake and discuss how they want it to look. She also goes more into detail about prices, providing the women with a write-up of what it would look like.   When the consultation is finished, there’s not a moment to breathe.   You’re ushered into the kitchen where Namjoon is working on a wedding cake.   “So I already baked these babies yesterday and let them cool down in the fridge. I’ve also made the buttercream just now. Today we crumb coat our cakes and colour fondant. Tomorrow, we’re going to cover the cakes with fondant, put dowels in and stack our tiers, and decorate, then it’s all ready for delivery! Easy, huh?”   “Umm…”   The older man laughs noisily from his chest. “I’m guessing you two know how to crumb coat cakes?”   “Yes, we do.”   “Great. Then this is all on you. Make sure not to mess up! It’s the bride and groom’s special day! People only have a wedding once...hopefully.”   There’s not any pressure whatsoever.   Namjoon leaves, coming in and out to help with his wife and niece cleaning the front and watching over your shoulder. But he has little to say to both you and Jungkook when he finds your techniques sufficient.   The cakes are placed on a turntable, bench scrapers and offset icing spatulas in hand. You add a thin layer of frosting to trap cake crumbs and prevent them from popping up in your finished cake. And while you crumb coat two layers, Jungkook does one and goes to colour fondant.   Namjoon teaches him, rolling the fondant into a ball and kneading until it’s soft and pliable. A small dot of pink is added and he kneads the colour until it’s blended.   Once you’re done with the cakes, you help Jungkook with another ball of fondant, kneading until your arms are sore. Afterwards, the two of you assist Sejeong and Yuna, organizing the shelves of baking pans, various coloured ribbons, and bins of cookie and cake cutters.   It’s tiresome, but you feel rejuvenated when they let you try some of the spare cake slices they offer. It’s delicious, melting on your palate and Namjoon jokingly quizzes both of you on what kind of icing works best with what cakes and what ingredients are in each of them.    You’d like to say you won.   They also teach you how to answer emails and phone calls, and both you and Jungkook arrange a few appointments for next week. The day is over before you’ve realized.   “Good work, you two!” Sejeong praises. “You’re very fast learners.”   “I heard you rank high at your school.” Namjoon smiles in spite of your modest protests. “I believe you know her as Miss. Kang. She speaks highly of you two and I’m not disappointed.”   “Jungkook, I heard you wanted to be a Chocolatier?” Namjoon asks and the boy is like a deer in the headlights, doe eyes rounded. He nods slowly.   “Yes, that’s my long-term goal.”   “When we have a moment then, I’ll work on something with you,” he promises with another dimpled smile and Jungkook is visibly enthused. “Anyway, I hope nothing was too overwhelming. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll continue tomorrow!”   They close up shop as the sun sets over the horizon and Yuna waves wildly, bidding Jungkook farewell. “Bye, Jungkook!”   He makes a noise, a small ‘bye’ to her before the two of you turn away after waving to the married couple. You walk down the street together, towards the bus stop where it’ll guide you home.   “That wasn’t bad.”   “Yeah.” There’s a pause. Jungkook smiles at you. “It wasn’t.”   Silence eventually falls in between the spaces.   You can feel your eye bags deepening, your bones creaking with every movement. You’re exhausted from the long day, unable to utter a single word, but the quiet that settles is comfortable rather than awkward.   Your feet are moving on their own against the pavement, the sounds of cars moving past shaping the white noise of the city. It’s a long way back home, but as you glance at Jungkook, walking alongside him with your footsteps synced together, you’re glad he’s here.   The two of you have each other for support.   You’re unknowing to how Jungkook shares the same sentiment. He takes a glimpse of you when you don’t notice, stealing glances like he’s stealing candy. The smile on his face softens.   His own words echo back to him— “I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he had hummed thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.”   It occurs to Jungkook that he’s found his answer. He realizes he can’t ‘overcome’ his feelings. He can’t get over you like you think he can. 

If you rejected him, his concern of making you uncomfortable would far outweigh these simmering emotions inside of him, but you didn’t. The fact of the matter is that Jungkook knows your aversion is towards love, not him. And with such uncertainty and possibilities, it’s impossible to get over you.

It won’t work. Not when you’re you. 

So Jungkook chooses the other path — the other approach.    He makes the decision right then and there. Instead of idly standing by and allowing you to sprout nonsense and drive him even more crazy, he’s going to act. He’s going to actually do something about his feelings—    Jeon Jungkook is going to court you.

[mightydragoon]

Darth Vader A+ Parenting.

While Darth Vader in canon ain’t exactly the nicest fellow, this is a Vader or Anakin who has no qualms getting what he wants and using any methods to do so. 

Or otherwise known as Darth Vader A+ Parenting. 

1.  to gain a son Russy

After falling into a trap laid by the Empire and being captured by two Inquisitors, Luke Skywalker wakes up in an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar man watching over him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019218/chapters/60586045

2. No Time Like The Present PinkEasterEggs

In a Galaxy where Princess Leia Organa and Luke Vader have always known they were twins, a deadly discovery by their biggest enemy throws their entire lives upside down. Yet again.

Now on the run from the Empire, the Skywalker twins find it their mission to bring peace back to the Galaxy once more. And with Darth Vader on their trail, that mission is far more complicated than they originally believed.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754825/chapters/59851300

(Note* Part  3 of the  Back To The Future series. Can be read as standalone) 

  3.  The Heir - SpellCleaver

Darth Vader just killed his master and learned a galaxy-changing truth: the child Palpatine adopted, the Imperial prince and heir, is actually Vader’s son, raised by Palpatine to torment him.

Meanwhile, Luke Palpatine just woke up from severe injuries he sustained in a Rebel attack to a galaxy where his father is dead, he is the Emperor, and the figure from all his childhood nightmares is acting suspiciously nice.

They figure it out from there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024442/chapters/57801529

4. Eclipse - SpellCleaver

Luke and Leia, the twin children of Darth Vader and heirs to the Emperor himself, defect. When they do, it's naturally a dream come true for the Rebellion and the mother they never knew, one that's been a long time in the making.

But they have to get to that point first.

Or: Darth Vader unwittingly sends his children down the merry path of treason... and the ugly, painful fallout.

(Note* Obviously) 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221840/chapters/43109123

5. Walking the Line Between - aradian_nights

After an emotional confrontation on Bespin, Luke Organa has been captured, and his newfound twin Leia Skywalker will not stop until she has rescued him. Even if that means murdering their own father.

( How the Other Half Lives  -   aradian_nights) 

(Note* the entire series is this but more in particular the recent additions, I’ve already discussed this story multiple times before so you know the drill )

6.  The kidnappings of a Sith Lord - maedre13

How a certain Sith Lord may or may not kidnap his rebel son. One-shots. Strongly inspired by sparklight´s “Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn´t Get Away”.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606992/chapters/23453241

(Note* not all these chapters are Vader at his worst but he isn’t exactly a top notch parent in them either) 

7. How to Save the World from its Heroes - stardustgirl

Being the Avatar’s—and Fire Lord’s—non-bending heir isn’t what Luke signed up for. He also didn’t sign up for an Agni Kai he can’t possibly win, or for getting dragged into a search for someone who can kill his own dad. Then again, someone has to bring the world back into balance, and if his dad won’t, then Luke might as well give it his best shot. After all, how much worse can things get?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24948487/chapters/60386875

(Note* Only started and already you can see Vader A+ Parenting in all its glory) 

8. your heart is full of stars and your hands full of shattered glass -victoriousscarf

Nineteen years ago, Vader took his children off Mustafar, and Palpatine raised them to be Sith, the perfect weapons he had been looking for.

Except the very eve of his greatest victory, the fully functional Death Star, Luke Skywalker defects to the floundering but growing Rebel Alliance. His sister follows because someone needs to watch out for that fool.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242183/chapters/30290415

9.  Love of a daughter. - youngjusticewriter

"and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924239/chapters/24297558

10.  Literal Hell - TreeOfTime

Luke Lars is content as a Moisture Farmer with his father and mother... until two people come to find what was lost to them...

Then all hell broke lose

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579066/chapters/53957833

(Note* oh dear lord Vader A+ Parenting in its full glory, a Sith Leia for flavour and a non force sensitive Luke. ) 

11.  Dynasty - Valerie_Vancollie: Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers.

Hit in the leg by a stormtrooper's blaster bolt, Luke falls in the Death Star hanger bay and is unable to escape on the Falcon along with Han and Leia. During the subsequent interrogation, his true heritage is revealed and Vader instantly takes him to Coruscant, determined to reclaim the son the Jedi stole from him. But the glory of the Imperial capital belies its true nature, where politics and power are everything and anything is fair game in the never ending game to reach the top. Not lying, not betrayal, assassination, sabotage, blackmail, nor seduction. As he commences his Sith training, Luke must also learn the rules and etiquette of the Imperial Court if he is to survive as most of his enemies fight their battles with words and political maneuverings rather than military force. Yet, even as he struggles to gain his place within the Empire, Luke learns that his best friend has joined the Alliance...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111908/chapters/29997507

12. Fractured twists - Annessarose

Timelines are fickle things.

Every line is balanced precariously on the precipice. One shift, one twitch of a finger, one step in the wrong direction, and entire stories change. Lives flicker out, galaxies rise and fall, but the Force is always a constant.

Each moment is carefully balanced. We know how the Siege of Mandalore happened - how the former Jedi padawan Ahsoka Tano led her men into victory. How she defeated Maul in single combat and earned the loyalty of Lady Bo-Katan Kyrze. How she rode her ship too late to meet with Anakin Skywalker, and how the galaxy fell and burned under the hand of the Sith.

This is the way it could have gone if Obi-Wan had followed Ahsoka to Mandalore.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158608

13. Runaway- Valerie_Vancollie

Co-authored by Rebecca Thomson aka Zekkers & a contest winner.

What if Luke had runaway from Tatooine and joined the Imperial Academy?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976095

14. A Mother's Decision - Valerie_Vancollie

What if Padmé had brought Luke to Vader when Luke was only nine months old?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915687

15. Descent into Darkness - Valerie_Vancollie

What if instead of waiting for Luke to come to him on Endor, Vader had gone for Luke and the others, capturing them while with the Ewoks?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12908223

16. Avenge and Conquer - arikylo

The Alliance has fallen into a very well laid trap and now Luke has no choice but to hand himself over to Vader. But what does the father have in store for the son? Can Luke handle the torture and the ruthless tactics of the Empire or will he be forced to surrender and embrace the dark side?

The struggle between the light and the dark is strenuous, relationships crumble and all is looking bleak for the Alliance.

Dark!AU set after ESB.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3058115/chapters/6639581

17. The Terrorist - Seasider

High above Bespin in Cloud City, Vader chooses not reveal his identity and instead uses deceit to trick Luke into surrendering. The Dark Lord has a lot on his agenda, so he entrusts the breaking of his son to an Imperial interrogator, unaware that the man has an agenda of his own: revenge.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810643/chapters/60006952

(Note* Dead Dove do not eat. Contains some reall fucked up shit) 

18. Consequences - treenahasthaal

An intense burst of light and a vicious blow to his left shoulder sent him spinning violently backward and he fell...

What if Luke hadn't made it off the Death Star immediately following Kenobi's death?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/809144/chapters/1527145

(Note* It’s also a boba fett/ luke) 

19. Instinct - treenahasthaal

There was something about the blond boy in the crowd of detainees that caught Commander Yarryn's attention. Something that pulled at his gut and told him there was more about this captive than met the eye. It was his duty to find out what it was the boy was hiding - and find it he would, for Yarryn was very good at his job.

12 weeks after the destruction of the Death Star.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185854/chapters/4785594

( Part 1 of the Invictus series) 

20. Child of Mine - Oneshotshipper

AU. Darth Vader discovers Leia at a young age. Barely managing to escape her father's clutches the first time, young Leia goes into hiding and becomes the Empire's most-wanted fugitive. If the second time comes, fate will not be as kind. Meanwhile, Darth Vader would tear apart the galaxy itself to possess and keep his child. The Dark Side seems to inevitably be the fate of the Skywalkers.

21. To Catch a Daughter, One must... - ftbprotocol

A variety of AU one-shots where in canon Leia stayed a secret, but in these stories did not. Because there needs to be more Leia and Vader fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173637/chapters/27632673

22.  Daughter Over The Son - Keetajet

Work is inspired by ftbprotocol's work "To Catch a Daughter, One must..."

The moment where Darth Vader did not save his son. Instead, he will have his daughter.

Leia's future went downhill the moment she felt her brother die on the second Death Star, leading to their capture on Endor. Only she, Han, and Chewie survived the failed ground assault and they were restrained and being held at gun point.

She has a bad feeling about this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354183/chapters/61476130

23. Before the Emperor - SilverDaye

Luke is defeated and captured at Cloud City by Vader. He is then dragged before the Emperor. However Palpatine is dead. Luke's father is alive. And someone else holds the reigns to Vader and the Empire.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950198/chapters/37196351

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[amphtaminedreams]

COVID-19, Negligent Manslaughter, and a Timeline of Tory Indifference

“I feel sorry for Boris Johnson. He is doing the best he can in the situation and I don’t think anybody else could have done a better job.”

[exhibit A: a gem somebody that I’m Facebook friends with reposted earlier]

It’s a sentiment that I cannot quite wrap my head around. I sit here hopeless and furious and trying to hold back tears because it’s been almost a year since England first went into lockdown and yet here we are, almost 100,000 dead, in an even worse position than we were before whilst other countries begin to slowly return to normality. It is clear to me who is to blame for this, however there are a large proportion of people who don’t want to “politicise” the actions of the PRIME MINISTER with regards to his approach towards handling a virus sweeping the country he GOVERNS. 

Typically, these kind of posts making the rounds on social media will be accompanied by some kind of photo of Boris Johnson looking somber as if to suggest that the way things have played out were beyond his control and that he is some kind of broken man beleaguered by the suffering he has, despite good intentions, inadvertently caused.

This one in particular of Johnson with his head in his hands is a staple. In reality, this is a photo taken back in 2018 whilst he was receiving flack from party members for comparing Theresa May to a suicide bomber (for her handling of Brexit, ironically) as well as from the papers due to his rumoured (now also proven, in a completely non-surprising turn of events, to be true) affair with his former aide, Carrie Symonds. 

So let’s shut this narrative-where we should feel for Boris because he’s doing his best, and apparently a better job than anybody else could’ve done in his situation- down right here. In a supposedly developed country with one of the world’s largest economies, if we’re talking by proportion, our COVID-19 death toll is up there with the worst of them. It seems that every other state figurehead (bar a small handful), and I mean almost every single one of them, is doing a better job. People love to throw figures out there about how densely populated we are to combat damning statistics as if we haven’t got just as many factors playing to our advantage, as if it’s unfair to compare our response to Germany’s or Japan’s or Singapore’s (both of which are far more densely populated) or New Zealand’s or Vietnam’s, but we are an ISLAND with world-leading technology and infrastructure and healthcare equipment and professionals and a relatively high standard of living. In what world is almost 70,000 dead in a country with abundant time and means to prepare a response reflective of said country’s leaders doing a good job?

Apparently we’re supposed to believe that Johnson feels some sense of moral responsibility for this astronomical failure. A man who refuses to acknowledge the multiple children he has fathered outside of his marriages and who has had repeatedly engaged in affairs and one-night stands throughout said marriages. A man who continued to cheat whilst his most recent wife was receiving treatment for cervical cancer, for fuck’s sake. Yep, a real stand-up guy. 

So where does this idea that Johnson must feel remorseful for this catastrophe come from? We haven’t seen a second of remorse or a hint of accountability for the lives lost from him nor any members of his cabinet. That much is really no surprise; I have this hypothesis, and it’s not a stretch, that these people do not have an ounce of empathy in their bodies. These ridiculously privileged, privately-educated individuals who have had everything handed to them their entire lives simply cannot put themselves in the shoes of the average working person and that is the problem. Unable to recognise that what distinguishes them from most others is little more than the luck of being born into wealth and the abundance of recourses and connections that has entailed throughout their lives, they see us as beneath them-as less intelligent, less driven, and thus less deserving of the status and respect they enjoy. They see us as a bunch of whining, unmotivated idiots who do not recognise the chokehold they have over our media nor the fact that everything they do is a desperate grab to keep money and power within the hands of a select group of people, an exclusive members club from which most of us are barred (just take a simple Google search and watch Jacob Rees-Mogg’s opinion of the Grenfell victims or the buried Johnson speech where he talks about how inequality is essential). They know that we will squabble amongst ourselves about who is to blame rather than wising up to the truth which is that every decision they make is fuelled by cronyism and the inability to make and follow through with difficult choices, the pandemic being no exception. The supposedly self-made elite see the life of the average working class person as having far less value than their own, and their parties actions over the last 10 years have made that very clear. 

It was in December 2019 that the first case of COVID-19 was declared to the World Health Organisation and on March the 11th that they announced they considered it as a pandemic. In Wuhan, people were dying of pneumonia in their clusters. And what was Boris Johnson doing in this time? Well for starters, here in the UK we didn’t even have a pandemic committee-Johnson had scrapped it six months before. If years of benefits cuts and defunding of the NHS in favour of funding nuclear weapon programs, keeping British troops on other people’s lands, and tax breaks for the mega corporations that donate to their party didn’t convince you that the Conservatives have little regard for human life, them getting rid of this committee-whilst a pandemic has been declared year after year as the greatest threat to mankind-should have been the first sign of trouble. As if that wasn’t enough, he also skipped five of the COBRA (meetings are made up of a cross-departmental committee put together to respond to national emergencies and PMs routinely attend those pertaining to crises on the scale of COVID-19) meetings addressing the situation. Whilst other countries were closing their borders and stocking up on PPE, Johnson and his ministers were selling PPE abroad and simply telling people to wash their hands to the length of the tune of happy birthday. Their only policy was one of “herd immunity”, which was in fact not a policy but just an abandonment of their party’s public duty disguised as one, intentionally obfuscated with pseudoscientific jargon.

Even thinking the absolute worst of politicians you would hope that when it came to the point where the UK’s non-response to COVID-19 was becoming an international disgrace, Johnson and his ministers would take proper protective measures if only to save face. But when they eventually seemed to do so, it became clear that the priority was not the safety of the ordinary people affected by the virus. Outsourcing their test and traces system to companies such as Serco, Sitel, Deloitte and G4S rather than public health services, Conservative ministers could not resist attempting to line the pockets of their friends and benefactors in the process. According to the Guardian, instead of reaching out to the experts or using publicly funded services to handle COVID containment measures, the Conservative party has awarded a disgusting £1.5 BILLION WORTH of contracts to businesses with explicit connections to its MPs and donors, the majority of which lack any relative experience of the tasks they’ve been trusted to carry out. Unsurprisingly, the National Audit office found that when awarding contracts relating to the production of COVID-19 protection measures and treatment needs, there was a “high-priority lane” for suppliers referred by senior politicians and officials; companies with a political referral were 10 times more likely to end up winning a government contract than those without. On top of this, it is not hard to draw a link between the late initiation of lockdown measures and preemptive openings of pubs and restaurants against scientific advice to the interests of frequent donors such as Wetherspoons owner Tim Martin. Even if one chooses to ignore the blatantly obvious correlation between the owners of the businesses whose profits were prioritised over safety concerns and the number of those owners who donate to the Conservatives, party officials at the very least were reluctant to follow the lead of many other countries in financing furlough schemes themselves and instead avoided this responsibility by using loose lockdown measures to leave it down to the discretion of small business owners, who couldn’t themselves afford to furlough staff, whether or not to stay open. 

Time and time again, as the government flounder and fuck about, favouring personal desires to keep their powerful, high-paying jobs and to satisfy the corporate allies who make this possible, blame has been shifted from the public to care homes to NHS workers and back again whilst we, the public, make the biggest sacrifices of all under the illusion that we were being guided out of this pandemic rather than lied to and thrown under the bus. Whilst the elite continue to pick and choose what rules apply to them, it’s students and the elderly and the vulnerable paying the fines and scrabbling to afford basic living costs and hoping that they don’t lose someone dear to them.

Don’t get me wrong, a large proportion of the public have contributed to the spread too with their selfishness and entitlement and the arrogance it takes to develop a sudden refusal to acknowledge basic science from experts who have studied in the field their whole lives so that they can justify their need to go to the pub (speaking of, it’s absolutely HILARIOUS how many “mental health advocates” are suddenly coming out of the woodworks on football avi Twitter after they’ve spent years calling people on mental health Twitter attention seekers). And don't get me wrong, there were inevitably going to be casualties of this pandemic. But it didn't have to spread to this many people, and there didn’t have to be so many deaths due to a lack of preparation, and this wouldn’t have been the case if it weren’t for the inherent apathy of the Conservative party towards the lives of people of lesser status than them, the reluctance to put those lives before party interests. I wish I felt like there was an end in sight, I wish there was some positive takeaway from all of this, but even now, we continue to see corners being cut with the vaccine lauded as our saving grace and anti-maskers gathering outside hospitals to chant about how “oppressive” it is to be urged to wear a bit of cloth over their faces for the short periods of time in which they leave their houses and all I can think of is the selfishness that runs like poison through our country. It makes me sick and leaves me to question desperately where we go from here. I don’t like unanswered questions, I don’t like feeling politically directionless, and I don’t like the growing fear I have about the state of the world which seems to intensify every single day. In the UK at least, it’s starting to feel like nothing will ever change-we’re told we live in a democracy and yet mainstream media is owned by the people whose interest is to keep their Conservative friends in power. The stronghold they have over print media in particular allows them to continually get away with smearing and defaming every person who comes along and seems to want to actually help ordinary people, without being challenged, to the point where the only kind of “opposition” we’re left with promises nothing but a big boss approved tactical reshuffling of the status quo (which they call “electability”); it doesn’t feel like democracy when the majority of the country are being fed misleading information and convinced against voting in their best interests. 

This is the result of that. The state we find ourselves in is the inevitable result of being manipulated into helping the elite build their protective wall whilst the rest of us scrabble to get in and step on each others heads along the way, the people inside shouting over that it’s those even more vulnerable than ourselves that are taking our places. Outside the wall, the earth is falling from beneath our feet, and instead of throwing over the ropes to help us out, the people inside are stockpiling them so they can secure their firm place above ground and then later flog the rest. How many more people have to die before we reach some kind of widespread realisation of that? Where do we go from here and what do we do? Well for one, we can stop spreading those god-fucking-awful textposts on Facebook and get our heads out of our arses. Wear our masks over and wear them over our fucking noses. Have some fucking consideration for others. Don’t wait til an issue affects you personally to give a fuck about it. AND START HOLDING THE FUCKING PRIME MINISTER AND HIS MINISTERS AND HIS ENTIRE PARTY AS WELL AS THE OPPOSITION MPS THAT HAVE SAT BY THE SIDELINES AND ALLOWED THIS TO GO ON WITHOUT PROTEST ACCOUNTABLE. That would be a good start. 

I’m so tired. Things didn’t need to be this way, and yet because of the selfishness of the few, thousands upon thousands are dead. It’s not about “throwing around blame”, it’s not about “throwing around” anything, it’s about expecting a leader to do his best to protect lives. If that is “throwing blame”, let’s get things clear, I have no issue with hurtling it torpedo style at those who handed out a death sentence to so many in this country rather than do anything that might compromise their own privilege. Honestly, pass me the shovel after and I’ll happily bury the wreckage in the ground. Who wants to join?:-)

[madllamamomma]

OK! Lightweight Part 3 (Final) Muriel x Mc (OC) Smut ;) And some fluff NSFW, 18+, blah blah blah.

Lightweight Part 3~

You wake up feeling a heavy warm arm holding you close. You slowly realize that you are still at Muriel hut. Last night was a bit of a blurr,  and despite having a touch of a hangover, you feel amazing. You feel like months of a build up was released all at once.

You turn over to Muriel, he’s already awake looking like he may have done something wrong.

He’s very quiet. You rub your face and eyes, then look down at the covers looking at your naked bodies, his face starts to become flush. “Rh--Rhemi... “

“--We… We did it last night… right?… It wasn’t a dream?”

Muriel’s looks like he feels awful about it. “....Yeah…we did. I’m--”

You push out a long exhale relieved, smiling widely. “Yessss!~” You turn over slowly, resting your chin on his chest. “...I was afraid...it was a very vivid wet dream.”

He stiffens, looking perplexed. “You….your still ok with it?....wait...--you..WHAT?!”

You nod slowly grinning and blushing bashfully, “Yes….I…. I’ve had them a lot…..About you. Ladies have them too!”

He looks incredibly embarrassed, but also a little flattered. “So….you’re ok? You’re not…. Hurt?”

“No… well other than my head… and my lady bits a little--- but that’s normal! I’m not broken or anything like that!….You’re… Ahh.. member is just...big.” Your face continues to get more red, but you still have a pleased grin on your face.

“Wh--Why do you think I was so terrified? I’m just… and you’re so...”  He takes his hands spacing them apart trying to explain with his hands the size differences.

You giggle, “...Being big isn’t a bad thing, Muriel.-- It’s a bonus!” You kiss his chest. “...It will get easier for us..we’ll just have to….you know...practice.~” You give him a playful, flirtatious wink. He flutters his eyes shocked at the thought, his face pink. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, and you lean into his face and kiss his cheek. He’s so cute when he’s flustered like that.

Your attention then goes to his poor shoulders and neck, gasping at your apparent handy work. He’s covered with hickies, and scratches. “Oh shit!...I can’t say the same for you, Mur.”

“What?” You touch his neck where you are looking at, rubbing the scratches sadly. He reaches around with his hand, feeling your claw marks. “...Oh, these?”

You nod apologetically. “Did I...hurt you?”

He smiles softly looking at the wall next to the bed, still blushing, “...I’m fine…. I’ve had worse.…I'd rather have these than--.” He stops himself from finishing that sentence, both of your cheeks now very flushed. “..I-- I mean--”

You sputter, and bury your face in his neck, and are unable to stop your laughter. “I’m happy to oblige!~ We all knew you were a lover and not a fighter!...Now I know really know that.” He grumbles to himself ashamed of his words.

“...Did… did you...Like it?” You twirl your hair looking a little sheepish. 

Red moves all the way down his neck and chest, his nostrils flare a bit before answering that question you know he didn’t really want to answer. “....I.. I did...…Is that...bad?”

“Muriel, I love you. I want to give you all of me...including my body.” You straddle him, look down at his handsome face as you sit on top of him. “...It’s not bad at all. I’m happy you liked it! I did too.~” He can’t help but marvel at your bare chest as you sit on top of him. You take his hand and wrap them around your ribs, just above your waist. “...We can… practice again… if you want.~” Your eye lids almost shut, but behind them is a hunger that is not yet satisfied. 

He tries to hide a smile at your forwardness, but he doesn’t seem against the suggestion.“I mean.. I wouldn’t mind it…” He mutters.

You lean down into him, slowly pressing your lips into his. His fingers push your hair away from your face and starts kissing you back, each one more passionate that the next. Your hips start to slowly thrust, and you start to feel his member being rock hard again. You reach behind your body for the shaft so slide his member back into you again. BANG BANG BANG!!--

Muriel and you about jump out of your skins. Your eyes shoot towards the door in shock. Who the fuck is knocking at Muriel’s door that this earl in the morning? AND WHY NOW?

“Muriel?...You home?” That sounds like Asra’s voice...--OH NO! He has no idea that you’re here with Muriel! FUUUUCK!! 

Muriel and your eyes become insanely huge, you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your inappropriate laughter at this moment. “...Your door is locked…” Asra waits for an answer for a moment while you both flounder silently. “Muriel?” Asra sighs ,“...Huh…First no Rhemi, now no Muriel?...”

Muriel looks at you panicked, you quickly roll off of him wrapping your body with the blankets and furs. You nudge him, mouthing, “Say Something!”, gesturing to the door. Muriel’s trunk  shoots up from the bed, choking on his reply, “--Ye--yeah!.. I’m here--Hold on--” He quickly hops out of the bed, fumbling for his pants and shoes. He gestures for you to hide under the covers and furs, you can’t stop snickering. This is so fucking insane. He quickly walks up to the door, but before opening it, he looks back at you for reassurance. You smile stupidly, waving your hand. Go on! Then cover your mouth with your finger to ensure him you won’t make a peep.

Muriel quickly makes his way outside, shutting the door hastily once he was out. You can hear the conversation as you slowly roll your naked self out the bed and sneakishly start to get dressed.

“Oh, Morning….Muriel?....You ok?---You're rather sweaty this morning...Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“No-- N--not…. exactly..” Muriel clears his throat sharply. You snicker to yourself, trying to contain your laughter. While you rummage for your belt and underwear. “What...uh.. What's wrong?”

Asra exhales long and almost sadly, “Can...Can we go inside, sit, and talk?” You shudder as you hear Asra’s words, quickly throwing on your shirt, it luckily covers all the things that matter.

“NO!... uh… redecorating… It looks like shit in there.” OH shit that’s right! Muriel’s a terrible liar!

“Oh…Umm... ok.. then?” You can hear Asra’s back slide against the wall of the hut. He bought that? “...Out here is fine, I guess.”

Muriel’s voice starts to become a little more concerned. “...something wrong?”

Asra sighs deeply again, he sounds so confused. “Yes…. no?...I-- I don’t know...”

You keep looking for your skirt and corset belt as he continues to talk, but it’s nowhere to be found still. You look to Inanna still trying to catch up on some sleep. She’s no help today.

Asra inhales deeply, “..Ok.. so something kinda happened last night…”

“Bad…?” Muriel replies still worry in his voice.

“No… not bad per say.---Let’s just say something… happened ….between …me …and …. *coughs* Julian.” WHAT???

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh…..” Muriel groans rather uncomfortably. You stop looking for your clothes and you stare at the door, your heart flutters and you continue to listen.

“I--know-- I know!--I’m sorry Muriel. You’re not the person to talk to about this. --But Rhemi isn’t at the shop this morning, and I really just need to talk to someone.”

“....Fuckinggreatluckyme...” he grumbles quietly. 

Asra chuckles a bit, “I wouldn't have come to you if it wasn’t somewhat urgent, Muriel. I...I need to make a decision here in a few hours…. I--I might be leaving for awhile--.”

Julian…. Did he ask Asra??---Did he confess to him?! He HAD to have! You can’t help but feel so excited. There was always something between those two, you just knew it.

Asra goes on, “--It would be a few months…I’d promise I’ll be back…but..”

Muriel exhales deeply. “...But?” You can hear Muriel's voice, he’s very excited about him leaving, or the Julian part. But if he was completely against it, he would say something.

“...But… If I do leave… What are you going to do?-- What is Rhemi going to do? What about the shop? I’ve never left that long before-- I feel like I can’t just up and abandon everything like that. What if she’ll need me? If I go will she hate me? And you?”

Muriel thinks about his words for a moment before responding. “Asra… I’ll be fine. Rh--Rhemi will be fine... You... you should do what you want...”

You press your head against the door, listening to Muriel’s words. “Rhemi... she keeps tell me this...You’re... aloud to want things.... You are too, Asra.”

Tears start to swell in your eyes, even though Muriel probably hates the idea, he still wants his oldest friend to be happy. You hear a fleshy thump sound, like Asra’s hand is tapping Muriel’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Muriel…But I… I just don’t feel convinced.” You hear Asra stand up and start to walk away, stop in his tracks and turn back around to Muriel. “..I just--I feel like I can’t abandon you two like that. If I did go, I probably wouldn’t get a chance to tell her in person. You know how she is… She won’t say, but she wouldn’t take that well.” He starts to walk away again.

“--Maybe this is all not met to be...” No no no NO NO!!!! ASRA!!! “Hey...Forget it I said anything, Muriel. It was just spur the moment thing anyway. I’m sorry to drop in and wake you up so early.”

“Wait, Asra--” You hear Muriel’s large figure stand as well.

“It--it’s ok, Muriel... I’ll-- I mean..It will be ok--”

You can’t let Asra get away. Asra and Julian clearly have something special. You want him to be happy.  You can’t let him talk himself out of being happy!

SLAMMM !!

“--ASRA, I THINK YOU AND JULIAN BELONG TOGETHER!!” You shout as you suddenly burst out of Muriel’s hut, a blanket over your shoulder, hiding your loose tits and your skirtlessess.

Muriel and Asra both stare at the door frame where you are standing for a moment, fluttering their eyes in disbelief at you. Oh fuck. What did I just do...Muriel’s entire face and chest blood red. You slowly turn to him, looking very sorry. He sighs deeply then scratches the back of his head bashfully, glancing quickly at Asra, then to the ground.

Asra sports a very confused look on his face, “Rh--Rhemi? What are you….doing….here?” Asra’s eyes dart from your red face, to the blanket that's covering you, then to Muriel, his red body, and now noticing the scratch marks and hickeys on his neck. His eyes light up as he slowly connects the dots. A very large, mischievous smile takes over his face, “Ooh-hoo~!.”

You quickly glance up at Muriel, both clueless what to do or say. You choke on your words unable to think properly, all you can muster up are sloppy hand gestures and stuttering.

Asra eyes wide open, folding his arm, his chin resting on his knuckles, smirking. “Was I... interrupting...something here?”

“--NO!!” You both defensively answer quickly in unison, Muriel shaking his head and your voice cracks.

A laugh escapes his lips. “Well.. this explains why you weren't at the shop this morning, Rhemi!”

You have no idea what to say at this moment, you sink your face down more into the blanket, embarrassment completely freezing your body as Asra continues, “... and here I thought you were up early shopping at the market!”

You feel Muriel taking a hold of your hand in his, completely surprising you. Muriel looking at the ground, face still incredibly red, “Sh--Shut up, Asra….” he scowls. There wasn’t any denying it. You two fucked. And why the hell cares? You are happy that you’re with Muriel. You don’t want to hide it anyway.

Asra’s laughs at Muriel’s sheepish face, excitement in his voice “AWWW! I’m proud of you, Buddy!”  

“A--ASRA!” Poor Muriel shudders.

Asra throws his head back and starts to lose himself in his laughter. You notice him wince at his shoulder, trying to cover himself with his jacket. Your eyes squint at him suspiciously, his laughter slow stop as he notices you shuffling over, blanket still over your shoulders. You look up at him, his cheeks start to become slightly flush as you glance to his hand. “...Whatcha hiding, Asra?” You raise your eyebrow, his eye darts side-to-side, not answering, a small bead of sweat on his temple.

You smack his wrist, he pulls it away. “Ouch! ---GAAH!”  You pull the scarf slightly off of his shoulder, exposing multiple teeth marks and hickies on his neck and chest. He freezed as he watched you bat your eyelashes and the corners of your mouth slowly curl upwards. “Ahhhhhh….ok....I can--I can explain...” Asra nervously smiles, chuckling defensively. He quickly covers the bites up with his hand again.

You take a step away judging harshly, smiling ear to ear. You fold your arms with the blanket. “So...‘Something happened last night’? Huh?”

“It… it was Faust.--”

Faust sticks her head out of his bag, quickly wrapping herself around his wrist, flicking her fork tongue. ”Lies!”

You sputter as laughter takes over you, full force. Asra, smiles cheeks flushed, it’s his turn to look embarrassed. “I knew you guys had some kind of chemistry!”

Hold on--You suddenly realize that there isn’t any time for this. “What a minute--- The boat leaves in a few hours!” You grasp his shoulders, shaking him a little,  his winces at you touch his bad shoulder a little too tightly. “--You’ve got to pack!....I need to go to the market--- get you supplies! Shit-- we don’t have time to dally...No time!!” You rush over, throw open the door of the hut looking over your shoulder both of them, the both blankly stare at you, confused. You flick your wrist to Asra, “Well! Get the hell out of here! You need to get going!”

You almost shut the door, then stick your arm out, pointing at Asra. “--And don’t even think about leaving without saying goodbye!”

You shut the door with a hard clunk.

You can still hear Asra as he softly laughs. “...She’s a handful, Muriel, you think you can handle her?”

“Yeah she is…” he chuckles a little then quickly chokes on his words, “Wait!-- I didn’t-- I meant-- OOFF!”

Asra continues to laugh, he sounds like he just hugged Muriel’s waist. “I know you’ll take good care of her, Muriel.... And she’ll… she’ll take good care of you, too.” Asra’s voice starts to sound shaky. “I’m… I’m so, so glad you both have each other.”

Muriel doesn’t say anything, but you can tell that he doesn’t let go for a little bit.

Your back rests against the door, still listening to them. Your eyes start to water, everything starts to just sink in all at once.

Asra....He didn’t want the both of you to be alone. Last time he did, you died.

He always came back from his travels because of Muriel and you. Separately, the two of you needed him so badly. --But together, you weren’t so dependent on him. You both loved him. He's one of your best of friends. He was the only person that you Muriel had for a long time. And… And he’s going to be gone for a long time. You realize how much you were going to miss him. He’ll be back, but he’ll be gone for months. A year at most.

You can hear Muriel approach the door. You step away to let him in, you slowly look up at him, tears stream down your face. Muriel’s face almost matches yours. You don’t have to explain to him. He understands. He embraces you, picking you up, feet slightly hovering off of the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck as he holds you by the small of your back and shoulders. “Are you going to miss him?” You mutter through your tears.

“...I always do when he leaves...I worry he’ll wouldn’t come back.” Muriel utters a little.

“I… I do too.” You sniffle and both of your foreheads pressed together, Muriel wipes the tears from your eyes. “...He’ll be back… and if he doesn’t, I’ll kick Julian’s fucking ass!”

Muriel snorts, “Yeah… I like the sound of that.”  He puts you down and you kiss his cheek.

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

You finally get yourself to town and get all the preparations Asra needed, Muriel even comes to help out. Everyone, including Portia and Nadia, all come to say goodbye on the docks, you and Julia exchange a very grateful look then gives you a friendly hug. He tries to hug Muriel, but he twists his face at him. You give Muriel a pouting look, and he pats him on the shoulder, asking him to make sure that he doesn’t get themself killed.

Asra waves goodbye to the both of you as they set sail, holding Julians hand. Julian never looked so happy. Times have changed, all of you have all changed, all have grown. Relationships are starting and taking new steps to further them. Muriel’s hand squeezes yours tighter as you both watch as the ship disappear on the horizon. You hug his waist, he peers down at you, he musters up a small grin.

Muriel said that he met Asra met here. He sounded almost nostalgic, a little sad.

You squeeze his hand tightly, pulling him close to you. “Muriel, are you ok?”

He wipes a small tear out of his eye, shaking away the thought, looking down at you smiling softly.“Yeah… I am now. “

You smile back at him, and start to walk off the wharf. “Let's go home. Together.”

The End~

As always, thanks for reading my hot trash! I hoped you liked it =) 

Feel free to share if you’d like. 

[roughentumble]

I would like to hear.. your silence of the lambs series opinions......

series as in, the new clarice tv show that's out? haven't watched it yet. series as in, those old movies that feature anthony hopkins as hannibal lecter? surely!

fair warning, i probably dont have anything new to say that hasnt been said before, considering these are all long since classics, and my thoughts might be a little disjointed.

it's difficult to sum up opinions about it on the whole, since the movie quality honestly varies so wildly, and as i recall basically every single movie had a different director lol. also like, there's definitely a reason silence of the lambs stood out as The hannibal movie that got talked about and went into The Annals Of Film History n' all that. there's something about jodie foster's performance that's particularly electric(though that could be nostalgia talking, i suppose)

the opportunities she had, as an actress, to really show emotion on her face, like the claustrophobic close-ups we got were really intimate and interesting, added to the sense we were getting into her head. that HANNIBAL was getting into her head. i've already used the word intimate, but really, the long drawn out conversations/monologues between her and hannibal are just that-- intimate. you have to have stellar performances to pull off that much dialogue, and shots that intensely focused, where a face takes up so much of the screen. but it works! because hopkins and foster are fantastic actors, and jonathen demme is a good director.

there's a reason a lot of people didn't like the switch to julianne moore, and i would say it isnt entirely moore's fault. ridley scott, for one, is simply a different director with different ideas of shot composition, which changes how the character feels pretty drastically when the style so heavily informed your feelings for her. but also, in general, the film just kind of approaches clarice from a different angle, which is pretty bumpy territory to go into on the tail of switching your lead actress. not only is moore just really different from foster, but we've gone from this kind of invasive intimacy with hannibal probing her in confined spaces, to her being on the chase. in particular what sticks out to me is a chase sequence where she's trying to find hannibal in a crowded mall.(i think it was a mall?? its been a minute since i last watched the film haha) despite how the crowd might lead to a sense of claustrophobia, these are wide open shots with lots of spinning and movement, no time for introspective face journies. it's a chase in a totally different sense than before, and that i think is major difference in tone. which isn't to say it's a bad choice, or a loss, or that it's worse, just that it's fundamentally very different material that moore was given fo work with. of course her performance differed from fosters!

i still think jodie foster did it better, but some folks were too hard on julianne moore. if anything, hold beef with the writers and new director for pivoting tonally(although, dont do that either, i think it was an interesting shift. the scene with her and hannibal, where hannibal fries up that dude's brain was SO GOOD, i loved loved loved the return to a twisted sense of intimacy for that scene, and a few others, and that sense of return wouldn't have hit the same were the whole movie to follow the same tone as demme's work.)

also quick sidebar, when i watched hannibal(the movie from 2001) i was BLOWN AWAY by realizing, in retrospect, just how absolutely perfectly micheal pitt nailed the role of mason verger in hannibal(the tv show). vocally, he sounded almost identicle to the og performance, WHAT!!! major props, i love micheal pitt. so cool

manhunter 1987 or whatever year it came out is garbage and we dont talk about it. it was physically painful to watch. my poor mother made us stop watching hannibal movies for the rest of the day because it literally put her in physical pain. it's so 80s i want to vomit. do not recommend.

red dragon was pretty good, and if you entered the series of films armed only with knowledge of hannibal nbc, gave some really fascinating context to some of the events therein. edward norton's performance was fine-- didn't blow my mind, but i do love to watch him on screen. anthony hopkins' portrayal of a free hannibal, on the run, who still can't help but taunt the police and stick his nose into investigations was shockingly compelling, despite how much of a cliche trope that's become in recent years. can't say i recall anything interesting to say about the directing, but it certainly doesnt hold the same intimacy of the previous films-- but then again, we've lost the intimate character of clarice, swapping her out for graham(who simply isnt as close, or interesting, or compelling, when he isnt on nbc and shaking like a wet chihuahua)

hannibal rising, the last film in the series, was very very very bad. BUT, unlike manhunter 198whatever, it managed to be fun about it! lots of very goofy deaths and things to make you roll your eyes, stupid character motivations and odd acting choices. but it seems aware, on some level, that it's the last and the silliest of the entries into this particular film series, which earns it some good will. whether or not its worth a watch comes down to how much you're willing to consume everything with the name hannibal on it, and whether you can abide by a hannibal that isnt played by sir anthony hopkins.

OK. ok. we're getting to the end of my thoughts here, kids. i prommy.

it's also, despite every single part of it that i enjoy and that brings me joy, almost unforgivably racist and transphobic. the weird exotification and obsession with asia(and japan in particular), especially when none of those elements felt important or relevant to the story was consistently shocking, and consistently present in essentially every single hannibal movie, ESPECIALLY ones that dealt with his childhood. it didn't ever feel like a natural part of the story, where they happened include people from another culture or anything, it felt like the author's fetish. i never truly understood how these reoccuring themes and symbols were meant to tie in with the rest of the story, even after an entire film set in the past, showiing hannibal's childhood and how he came to live with a japanese woman. it was weird! it was uncomfortable! it was bad! even hannibal nbc couldnt make it not weird. i'd love a hannibal movie with a japanese person in it who WASNT treated really, really, really weird. but i dont think i will ever get that.

and like. wrt transphobia-- do i even need to say it? buffalo bill's been talked to death. we all know the issue there.

if a japanese person, or a trans woman, came to me and said "shawn, everyone says its a classic, but i cant bring myself to watch [insert hannibal movie here]" i would not blame them. it isnt the whole movie, but its enough to feel real bad, scoob.

its not enough to make me fall out of love with silence of the lambs, or hate hannibal(the film, god thats a confusing name), or even hate the film series, but its something that deserves tl be talked about. i've heard lots of discussion on the transphobia, but basically none on the racism, which is a real shame. sometimes it feels like no one else even noticed it, and it really leaves me floundering, because its like-- its RIGHT THERE and its so weird and bad. thomas harris, what the fuck

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL MY THOUGHTS FOR NOW?????? i could maybe come up with more, *shrugs*, but i'd need more time at least.

summary:: very problematic, and not because he eats people. but overall some of the films are fantastic, and silence of the lambs does hold a special place in my heart. and even if i didnt like it nearly as much, i'll defend hannibal(the film with julianne moore) till im blue in the face, because even if it didnt quite capture lightening in a bottle it still brought some interesting things to the table. decent enough movie series with enough variation in film tone and quality to make watching them all in a row enjoyable, because it keeps things from getting stale. (could probably have done with SOME consistency tho, lol, they were really flying by the seat of their pants. they had hopkins and that was IT, only thing that carried over from production to production lol)

[jungkookiebus]

Chemistry | knj

This is part of the BSC 1st Anniversary Drabble Request Exchange!!

Scenario: hybrid au + Namjoon + hybrid him and hybrid reader go to a school for hybrids, they’re vice president and president and maybe they both have a crush on the other but dont know about the other’s crush (some jealousy would be cool 🥰 thanksss 💜) Word count: 3.6k Pairing: hybrid!Namjoon x hybrid!reader Warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe!), little bit of ol’ dirty talk

You pulled the poster down angrily as your tail twitched furiously behind you. Ears laid flat, you stood, fuming, in the middle of the hallway.

“____?” Haeun asked, nervously. “Everything okay?”

“Absolutely not.”

Haeun, being a bunny hybrid, was timid in comparison to your feline attitude. You were the only panther hybrid in your school, and everyone was afraid of you. You weren’t sure why, but that was just how the gavel fell. Haeun had been your friend since childhood, enduring the hardships of being hybrids together. Even now, hybrids were segregated to their own schools.

You were currently in the running for senior class president with your arch enemy, Namjoon, a wolf hybrid. You had been at odds for years, vying to be on top of your class and each time he seemed to get the best of you, even though you were equally matched.

“Why does he feel the need to try for everything I want?!” You crumpled the paper in your hands and threw it into the nearest trashcan.

“I think he knows it gets to you,” Haeun interjected.

“Of course, he knows it gets to me. Smug jerk.”

You spotted him across the cafeteria laughing amongst the rest of the baseball team and sneered at his stupid, boyish smile. For someone so cute, he was the most annoying.

“I’m getting this.”

The next week called for a student council meeting of the current board and to establish rules and school functions promoting the election. You crossed the mostly vacant room and planted yourself in a desk closest to the windows, hoping to avoid talking to anyone. You were staring out of the window waiting for the others to arrive when you felt the downy swish of a tail brush against your arm. Before you even turned your head, you were painfully aware of who had just sat next to you.  

“_______,” his smooth voice swept across your mind like rain.

Twisting in your seat and narrowing your eyes, you flattened your ears and looked at him through pierced eyes.

“Namjoon,” you said with a snarl.

“You’re cute when you’re pissed.” You knew he was messing with you, egging you on and trying to get a rise from you.

Your ears perked back up and your tail wrapped around your midriff as you turned back towards the windows.

“Hey, come on, it was just a joke. How about we try getting along for once?”

He reached out to touch your arm and you immediately withdrew and snarled at him.

“Not likely, Namjoon.”

His eyebrows rose in curiosity, but he didn’t seem deterred by your behavior.

“You don’t scare me.”

“What?”

“Everyone is afraid of you. You keep up this façade,” he said gesturing towards you, “but you’re not as scary as you look or Haeun wouldn’t be friends with you.”

“What do you know?”

“I’ve known Haeun for years and she’s not friends with just anyone.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he said as he settled back into his seat, tail swishing lazily across the floor.

The rest of the weeks were pure torture as the election went on. Polls were not in your favor and you were trying your hardest to at least win something over Namjoon for once. No matter how much you smiled, talked to people, or tried your best to win them over, your numbers were not going up. Wholesome, all-around Namjoon was stealing your votes and you couldn’t understand how.

One day, you decided to approach him as he walked to his car.

“Hey, Namjoon!”

He turned in surprise at the sound of your voice and smiled widely.

“Is the pretty panther talking to me for once?”

“Cut the shit. How are you doing it?”

“Doing what?”

“Getting all of the votes.”

“Uh, well, same as you, talking to people and working events.”

“But you’re winning.”

“Look, ______,” he said with a sigh, “I’m going to break it to you, you’re not the nicest person.”

You looked at him, affronted.

“Okay, fuck you.” You turned to walk away, but he quickly grabbed your wrist and you felt the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Turning back, he was looking at you seriously.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Forget I asked,” you said walking away. Namjoon didn’t call out, nor did he follow you.

Your forehead hit your desk with a thud as the results were announced over the intercom. Namjoon had gotten president and you had gotten vice. Yet again, Namjoon had beaten you. Haeun chewed on her bottom lip but didn’t say a word because she knew better than to try to comfort you. You were short-tempered and your feline instincts were to act in disdain and anger.

“This isn’t going to affect me,” you said as you rose from your desk.

“Wait, you’re not mad?” Haeun was quickly following behind as you made your way to first period.

“I’m fuming.”

Haeun stopped in her tracks and didn’t follow you further as you walked to chem. What sucked about all of this was that you had first period with him, and he was your lab partner. The universe was a cruel mistress when it came to your fate. You slid onto your stool next to him without a sideways glance as you dropped your bag on the floor.

“Congratulations.” His deep voice resounded in your ears.

“Same to you,” you said still looking ahead to the front of the class.

“Going to the dance this weekend?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to have casual conversation with him right now.

“Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Maybe.”

“Absolutely not,” you said as Haeun held the black dress out to you.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s egregious.”

“You’ll make Namjoon look twice.”

You did a double take as you stared at her with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, _______,” she said flopping down on your bed, “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

You sputtered as you tried to quickly defend yourself, not making it look better.

“I do not like him. We hate each other, why would you say that?” You were pacing around your room, flailing your arms and all Haeun could do was smirk and lie back on the bed, watching you flounder.

“Look at yourself, you’re so flustered you can barely talk.”

“Okay, he’s cute, but that’s it.”

“Suit yourself, but you should really wear that dress.”

Haeun gave you a smug look as you resigned and walked to the bathroom, dress slung over your shoulder.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said as you walked into the crowded gym. You pulled at the hem of the dress, willing it to magically become longer as you slouched.

“Stand up straight, you look like a sick giraffe.” Haeun wore a cute pink dress that accented her equally cute personality. Her soft, furry ears glistened in the low lights of the gym and her nose twitched excitedly.

You stood to full height, a good foot over Haeun, and glanced around the gym. You spotted Namjoon right away with a pretty junior you recognized but couldn’t bother to remember her name. You felt a flush course through you that felt oddly like jealously, but you quickly dampened it.

“Let’s get a drink,” you said pulling Haeun along behind you.

The crowd parted as you made your way through, receiving ogling looks from both boys and girls alike.

“Told you that dress was a good idea,” you heard behind you.

“Shut up, Haeun.”

You heard her laugh as you reached the table, grabbing two cups and handing one to her.

“Prince charming is coming this way.”

Before you could turn around you heard his low voice behind you.

“Well, hello, Miss Vice President.”

His eyes raked from the tips of your toes to the tips of your ears.

“Can we help you?”

“I was just coming to say hi.” The small cat hybrid beside looked at you with disgust, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Hello and goodbye. Looks like your date is pissed.”

Namjoon looked at the girl beside him like he had just remembered she was there. “Ah, well, enjoy your evening ladies.” Haeun nodded and raised her cup as he walked away.

“He just eye fucked you hard.”

Your drink almost came out of your nose. “God you’re crude.”

She shrugged before continuing to drink and scanned the dance floor.

“I’m gonna go see if Yoongi wants to dance,” she said setting her cup down.

“The fox hybrid? That’s, like, a natural enemy to you.”

“Oh my God, I can’t with you, bye.” And she was off before you could protest, basically hopping as he sidled up next to Yoongi.

This night couldn’t get any worse for you. You quickly dipped into the shadows of the perimeter of the gym and snuck out the doors leading to the empty corridors of your school. Why you had agreed to come to this stupid dance was beyond you, but it was expected of the class vice president after all. You ducked into the all too familiar chemistry classroom you had every first period. Sighing, you walked to your normal table, sitting down to breathe. That was when you heard the door click shut softly behind you. Hair raised, you turned in the direct of the sound only to find Namjoon looking at you curiously.

“Are you following my every move now?” you asked him, annoyance evident in your voice.

He held his hands out defensively as his ears laid back.

“Whoa, no, I was coming to check on you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“I’m not saving you.”

You both stared each other down for a few seconds too long.

“Why are you here then?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Like I said, I was checking on you.”

“Thanks, now you can go,” you said turning back around in the stool.

A few seconds later and you felt the ghost of his breath against your neck, causing every hair on your body to stand on end.

“You look really good in that dress,” he whispered.

You gulped audibly as his fingers ghosted up your arm and came to rest on your shoulder. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through your body and he noticed right away.

“Am I reading the signs wrong or are just as into me as I am into you?”

Your mouth felt parched, as if you hadn’t had water in years. Was this really happening right now? You were supposed to hate Namjoon. Your hands gripped the edge of the table nervously as you laughed; the sound coming from your mouth very unconvincing.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered. Your tail flicked nervously behind you, brushing against his legs.

His hand came around to cup your jaw so that he could turn your face towards him.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said as he placed a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Involuntarily, your mouth fell open and he turned his head to fully envelop yours with his, tongue immediately moving against yours. He moaned as he got the first taste and he was not disappointed; the sweet, tangy flavor of the punch was still on your tongue as he flicked against it. You turned in the stool and grasped the lapels of his blazer as you pulled him closer to you, spreading your legs as much as you could in the dress and pressing him against you.

“Feisty, huh?” he laughed against your lips.

“Just shut up,” you said kissing him once more. His hand traveled the length of your thigh but stopped at the hem of your dress. Throwing all caution to the wind you spread your legs further, causing the dress to ride up as well. He squeezed your inner thigh as his lips moved to your neck, your head moved to the side to give him more area. Brushing his fingers lightly against the fabric of your panties, he sucked and bit into the skin below your ear.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he moaned.

“Then do it.”

He seemed surprised as he pulled back to look at you.

“Don’t act like there hasn’t been sexual tension between us.”

He looked at you as if to say you weren’t wrong. Maintaining eye contact and quicker than you were able to notice, he had two fingers shoved into the side of your panties and into your awaiting cunt. You had already started to get wet, but this sealed the deal as he pushed his fingers in further, watching your reaction as you gripped the table with one hand while the other was still buried in the fabric of his blazer.

“Fuck, Namjoon, warn a girl.”

“I wanted to see your face.”

“What…w-what about y-your date?” You were finding it hard to form words as he pumped his fingers in you as he lazily brushed his thumb over your clit.

“Oh, her? She’ll be okay.”

Only the after hour emergency lights lit the room and Namjoon loved the way he could see your face half-shrouded in darkness, almost as if he were watching a noir film play out in front of him. Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks and casted soft shadows.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said as his lips brushed along your cheekbone.

Your ears twitched in embarrassment as your tail came up to wrap around your waist. His other hand grabbed it softly and pushed it away as you relaxed.

“Don’t be so tense.”

You sighed as his lips came to yours, fingers still working you open slowly. His lips were gentle, soft against yours and you wanted to fall into the feeling forever. In the back of your mind you wondered why you hadn’t given in to this type of pleasure sooner.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered.

Your eyes rolled back, and your cunt clenched down around his fingers as he asked you the question.

“I don’t care,” you said breathlessly.

“Oh, come on,” he tutted, “use your words.”

He curled his fingers upwards against your g-spot and you gasped loudly; the sound seemed to echo in the empty room. Your palms began to sweat as you grasped at the slick surface of the lab table, thighs quivering, and your feet slipped off the rung of the stool.

“I want you to bend me over this table so that every time we have class, I think about it.”

Namjoon groaned and you felt his cock, hard in his pants, brush past your knee.

“Fuck, if I knew you had such a dirty mouth on you, I would have tried to fuck you sooner.”

He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbed your wrist, and jerked you upwards into a standing position. His lips were on yours once more as he pulled your tight dress up past your hips as you shimmied your underwear off yourself. You fumbled with his belt for a few seconds before you were pushing his pants down.

“Wow, no underwear?” you asked as his cock sprung free immediately.

“Didn’t feel the need,” he purred.

You grabbed his cock in your hand and reveled in the growl burning at the back of his throat. Just as languid as he, you worked your hand over his cock until he pushed into you. His hand came up to your throat as kissed you in a rush, tongue exploring as he pushed you against the lab table.

“Turn around,” he demanded while grabbing your hips, helping you along.

He pushed, hard, into the middle of your back, forcing your upper half onto the table as he spread your legs for a wider stance. Holding the base of his cock, he rubbed it between your folds, gathering the wetness that was now threatening to drip down your thighs. You moaned at the feeling of him rubbing against you and you wiggled your ass to hurry him up.

“I can’t wait to be inside of this pretty pussy,” he said bending over you, hand on the table beside your head, and slowly thrusting against you. “You know how many times I’ve thought of taking you in various places around school?”

Every inch of your skin was aflame as if a fire had been lit from within. A mix of embarrassment and arousal rushed through you like a wave; he was being so open with you and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Dogs aren’t supposed to like cats,” you said looking at him through your peripheral.

He laughed as he bent down some more, nose in your hair, sniffing lightly before rubbing his face against yours.

“Well, I like this particular kitten.”

You both groaned in unison as he entered you. The stretch was far from uncomfortable; this was the best you had felt in ages. His hand was still planted firmly on the table as he began to fuck you with purpose. You felt his tail twitch and brush against your calves at each thrust. His face was in your hair once more, inhaling deeply as he moaned.

“You smell so fucking good. I’ve always wanted to be this close to you. Did you know you give off the most intoxicating pheromones?” His thrusts slowed but hit deep. Your eyes rolled back as he brushed against your g-spot.

Your hands slid across the smooth tabletop as you tried to hold yourself; your palms leaving sweaty prints in their wake. Namjoon lifted your right leg up behind your knee to deepen his already dangerous thrusts; it was almost like he had known your body forever.

“I need you to fuck me harder,” you begged.

Namjoon looked around him and to one of the lower tables that was wheelchair accessible.

“Move,” he demanded as he slipped out of you and pushed you towards the table. He guided you to lay flat on your back, legs hanging from the table. He positioned himself between your legs, grabbed your ankles and pushed until the heels of your feet were on the edge. He wasted no time before he was sliding back inside of you once more, hands back on your ankles as he pulled your legs to his shoulders. You cried out as he thrust faster, balls slapping against you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You tried to grab onto something, anything, but all you were hitting was a discarded textbook and the knobs of the built-in sink.

“Fuck.” You felt as if you were gasping for air, your body trying desperately to keep up with what was happening.

“Touch yourself.”

You popped three fingers into your mouth before bringing them down to your clit and rubbed fast circles. Your back arched off the cool tabletop as he gripped tighter to your legs and buried his cock as far as it could go.

“I’m gonna come.” You were practically in tears. Namjoon was watching you in such sharp focus that everything else around him seemed to fall away. In that moment, neither of you were enemies nor being two different species of hybrid mattered. Your ears were flat against your dark hair and you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You clenched down hard around him as you came, mouth falling open and then closed again as you ground your teeth together to stay quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm and slowly pulled out of you.

“Look at that, you creamed all over my cock, baby,” he said as he started to pump himself, using your cum as lube.

You sat up on your elbows to witness the mess you had made before looking at Namjoon who was completely fucked out and fucking himself into this own hand. You reached forward, grabbed him behind his head and brought his mouth down to yours in a hard kiss that was less methodical and more chaos. Your post orgasm high had you moaning into the kiss as Namjoon’s hand worked over himself faster and faster. Images of you coming around him spurred his orgasm to a quick peak as he came, hot, on your cunt and thighs. His moans came out almost as a deep growl as his cum leaked down your skin and he backed up; steps almost faltering.

“Fuck,” he laughed. “I never thought this would happen.”

You sat up, reaching into a drawer on the table that you knew held paper towels. “Yea, well, neither did I.”

Namjoon grabbed the roll from you, pulling several off before wiping you down.

“So where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Back to the gym?”

He laughed once more as he gathered your belongings. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, back to being mortal enemies I guess.” You pulled your underwear back on as he did up his belt.

“_______,” he said, exasperated, “I’m being serious.”

“I like you, okay? As much as I hate to fucking admit it, I like you.” A triumphant grin spread across his face at your admission. “But I’m not jumping into this.”

“Uh…I don’t know what you call this,” he said gesturing between the both of you, “but I think we already did.”

“Relationship wise, you goose.”

“You know, I’ve never met a goose hybrid.”

You slapped his shoulder as you pushed your way past him and to the door. You pulled it open and turned to look at him, hand grasping the wood. You made direct eye contact with him and then looked over towards the table before looking at him once more.

“See you in chemistry on Monday?” you asked rhetorically as you walked out, leaving a smiling Namjoon behind.

[inkstaineddove]

Fall Together

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Hungary

Summary: After putting the brakes on their relationship after her divorce, Erzsébet visits Gilbert and he has no idea what to make of it. Sequel to Till We Meet Again.

Potsdam, 1921.

Gilbert sat alone in his study, a leatherbound book in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. The room was filled by the sounds of Edwin Edwards’ sliding trombone and Larry Shields’ shrieking clarinet. It was a record he’d played many times before, one that he rushed to get after hearing the damn Amis playing it often on their side of the trenches. It was different and, every time he listened, he was always tickled to think of how much Fritz would hate it, a memory of simpler times.

Through the noise, he managed to hear knocking at the front door. He remained seated for a second before jumping up to answer it. As he walked, he again considered the idea of hiring on a skeleton staff to do all the little things he had gotten so accustomed to ignoring. As always, he imagined the lecture he would receive from Ludwig for his supposed opulence and decided against it once more. Indulgence could wait.

“Hi,” Erzsébet said with a little smile, as if she were unsure herself of why she was there. She scrunched her nose up at the smell of the cigar that he still carried. “Do you have to smoke those awful things around me? Death smells better.”

“Well how could I have known you were coming over?” Always one to please despite his protestations, Gilbert stamped it out on the door frame. He then rubbed the wood in concern. “That wasn’t smart of me, was it? Well, no fire. That’s the main thing.”

Thankfully, she laughed at his mindlessness. All wasn’t lost right away. While he was caught up in staring at her, she cleared her throat. “Are you going to let me in or are we going to stand here forever? I know we have all the time in the world, but…”

“Right, shit, sorry! Come in, you know where everything is.” He beckoned her inside. Once behind her, he checked his appearance in the hallway mirror, disheveling his hair a bit to give himself that boyish look she used to compliment him on. Feeling sufficiently attractive, he followed her into the living room.

Gilbert never felt so self-conscious as she watched him. She had this little smile on her face, as if she were silently laughing at him. Was that why she was here? She travelled all this way to mock him? Fine. If that was what this was all about, then he’d give her no reason to laugh. He’d prove to her just how perfectly well-adjusted he was.

Her voice roused him out of his thoughts. “Gil, are you even listening? I’m here two minutes and you’re already tuning me out.” Where Erzsébet would have normally been annoyed, she instead chuckled. “I didn’t think it was that personal of a question.”

He silently berated himself. Staying in his head would do him no favors. And, while she knew him like nobody else did, he didn’t think she’d suddenly become a mind reader in two years. “I’m sorry I’m…drunk.” Why was that his excuse? And now she was staring at him as if he belonged in the asylum and everything was ruined before it started. “Did I say drunk? I meant in a funk! No, that’s even worse! Forget all that, forget I said anything at all. I’m listening now.”

“O-okay. I just wanted to know how you’ve been?” She eyed him up and down. “Though now you’ve got me worried about the answer.”

“Me? I’ve been great! Don’t think I’ve ever felt better in my life!” He leaned against the fireplace, hoping to seem suave and unaffected. “So what that things have been a bit of a mess and the kid blames me for everything that went wrong during the war? I go to a bar and every woman wants me and I don’t have to turn them down! Every night I’ve got another date with a total babe and I never see them afterwards! What more could any bachelor want?” He was lying through his teeth but needed to sell it. He smirked and shrugged, feigning indifference. “Who needs the old ball and chain when you’ve got such unbridled freedom?”

“What a Hengst,” Erzsébet snickered before giving him a knowing smile. “Well, I’d hate to intrude on you and all your fun. If I’m such a burden, I’ve got no problem visiting Ludwig instead.” She pretended to get up from the sofa.

For a millisecond, his façade slipped into genuine panic. “No, don’t be like that! You know, I’ve got reservations tonight for this fancy little restaurant. I was going to go alone – which is so much fun to do too! – but, since you’re here, it would be romant- I mean, it would be so nice to go. If you want, of course, it’s all up to you.”

“What a coincidence. Are there really reservations?” She hid her mouth behind her hand, knowing that if she kept laughing at him, his floundering would increase. “It seems too perfect to be true.”

Gilbert let out a strange little laugh, one that didn’t quite sound natural. “There could be reservations if you wanted there to be. I could call in a few favors, bribe some people if needed, whatever you want and the night’s yours.”

Erzsébet didn’t know whether to be embarrassed on his behalf or flattered that he was this anxious. She settled on both being the appropriate response. “I was hoping to stay in tonight. I’m a little tired from the journey. Surprising how quickly you stop being used to things. Tomorrow, though, if you could call in those favors and make those bribes, then I’d be very interested.” She smirked, a devilish look in her eyes. “Don’t feel the need to stay in because of me though. I don’t want to deprive the women of Berlin their favorite.”

“What other women? Those other women! They’ll be fine! If they could take a century, they can take a night. Two nights, actually, since tomorrow’s our date. Not a date! Shit, it’s a saying.” Dear god, he needed to relax. Out of habit, he sat down beside her and, once he realized how close he was, scooted to the end of the couch. He could feel himself blushing and see her biting her lip to stop herself from laughing and all he longed for was death. “Does that mean you’re staying somewhere in town?” There, travel accommodations. A topic so dull he would be able to compose himself again.

“I figured I would be staying with you, Gil. Is that alright? I don’t want to impose.” She gave him the big eyes that they both knew he always succumbed to and he wanted to curse her for knowing all the right buttons in every situation. “Far be it from me to ruin the bachelor life you’re enjoying so much.”

He batted away her concerns, as feeble as they were, with a flick of his wrist. “Please, why would I want you elsewhere? You’ll be much happier here.” Gilbert exhaled slowly through his nose. He would have the same results if he grabbed his pistol and began literally shooting himself in the foot. “I can get you set up in a guest room.”

The way she stared at him caused him to worry that he had said something incredibly stupid. “Why would I be in a guest room? You know which bed I want to sleep in.” The little smirk Erzsébet had was enough to drive him completely insane. Before he could process everything, she was suddenly much closer than before. She was merciful enough to leave some space, but the lack of it was what drew his attention.

“M-Mine?” As she nodded her head, he took in a deep breath. “That’s fine. I’ll sleep in the guest room…and you’re shaking your head, so I’ll sleep with you. Fuck. Like in a platonic way? Erzsi, can’t you show a man some mercy? I’m drowning here.”

She patted his thigh affectionately. “If I did that, then how would I have my fun? Look at you, you’re paler than you normally are. Let me get you a drink. That’ll put you at ease.” She rose and walked over to the bar that was part of the room.

With distance came peace. Gilbert touched a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat decrease steadily. He watched her move around the bar with expert confidence, not pausing for a moment to ask him where things were. If he thought about it, he was almost insulted that she was so sure he hadn’t changed the layout. “You know, the host is supposed to do all that.”

“My home too, isn’t it?” Though he couldn’t see her face as she knelt behind the bar, he could hear the coyness in her voice. She hummed to herself as she poured them each a glass of wine and beer, respectively. Once done, she returned to him and offered him his drink like a peace offering. “Here. Maybe this’ll knock some sense back into you.”

Greedily, he drank from it. The beer brought no clarity, but the familiar crutch did something to calm his nerves. He swirled it around in his glass, watching the little whirlpool at the center. Anything was better than looking at Erzsébet and risk losing all rational thoughts. “I have to say, barging into my home, calling it yours and then calling me an idiot in the same breath is a gutsy move. Then again, why would I think you’d show up just to be sweet?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her roll her eyes and throw her head back. “Poor, Gilbert. Always carrying the heaviest cross. As soon as you saw me, you thought you knew exactly what I was here to do. You never even asked! You just saw me and went into one your spirals, thinking you had it all figured out!”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. He appreciated that she was now comfortable enough to insult him outright. Her honesty deserved his own. “That’s bullshit and you know it. What was I to think? The only reason you’d come here is to gloat that you’re so much happier now and everything in life is so wonderful and that you’re just here to cut off the last loose end to your old, miserable life. Which is fine by me, I wouldn’t care as long as you made sure to plunge the scissors deep enough into my heart.”

Erzsébet snorted. “Way to prove me wrong. You go through all this trouble to make up some ridiculous little fairy tale that has no basis in reality when it would’ve been easier to just ask me outright. But no! Gilbert and his insecurities have to try and sell me on the fact that he’s supposedly been fucking half of Berlin!” Pausing to sip her wine, she shook her head. “I love you, but you’re pathetic.”

All riled up and ready to go, he’d completely ignored the last bit of what she said. “What else could there be? I know what you’d do, you’d throw out the fact that you’ve got someone else waiting for you back- wait what did you say at the end?”

“Now you want to listen! For anyone with a working brain, it would’ve been obvious to them. How do I always forget that you’re a complete and utter moron?” Needing to calm down, she finished what was left of her wine and got up to refill her glass. “I’m not even going to repeat myself. I’m too annoyed with you.”

Gilbert sat there silently for a minute. He’d felt like an ass many times throughout his life – he supposed that was the price of arrogance – but never had it been so strong. He sighed, deciding now was as good a time as ever to start over. “How’ve you been these past two years?”

“Now you’re going to be normal?” She shook her head. Snapping at him didn’t feel as good as she’d hoped it would. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too surprised or bothered. “I’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time with Feliks again. There’s something to be said about independence and not having to ask permission to travel.” She shrugged, a content smile on her face. “But more so I’ve been spending time at home with my people and enjoying not having to speak in German all the time.”

“We don’t have to speak in German,” with ease, Gilbert switched to Hungarian. “Though I’m probably rusty.” It was an attempt to kiss up, but he was being earnest.

“Isn’t that better? So much prettier too! I’d say ‘no offense,’ but I know you’re used to it.” Erzsébet giggled at his nonchalant shrug and goofy expression. She retook her seat besides him and was pleased that he didn’t run away this time. “I’ve really been doing what I told you I would do, just enjoying that my time is now my own. I’d forgotten what that was like.”

He leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the table. “That was all your great journey of self-discovery was? Shooting the shit with Feliks and random strangers?” He couldn’t prevent skepticism from seeping into his voice.

“I did more than that, don’t be so rude.” Her tone now as she chastised him was far more playful than before. “Without…him breathing down my neck, it’s been much easier to get back into my old hobbies. I got a nice stallion for a good price, found a cabin near the Mátra for a better price, and hid out there for a few months each spring. The game is just as good as when we used to hunt there as kids, maybe even better. It would’ve been perfect, but it was missing something.”

“What?”

“You.” Erzsébet chuckled at his embarrassment as he looked away. “Each time I was there, I would catch myself thinking about you or wishing you were there so I could show you whatever I’d found. Or just to have someone to race.” She sighed, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “It happened even when I was back home. I’d see something and want to get it for you or would meet someone who reminded me of you and then it made the whole day feel bittersweet. Two years I spent only to figure out what I’ve always known: I’m my own woman and life’s better when you’re in it.”

When Gilbert at last looked at her again, he donned a sheepish expression. “Should I apologize now or later?”

She nuzzled into his chest and all was right in the world again. “Normally, I would want you to now, but you gave me plenty to laugh at and that’s apologies enough.” He felt the vibrations of her giggling into his chest. “Though why you thought I’d ever believe you’d been out sowing your wild oats is beyond me.”

He rubbed his free hand behind the back of his neck. “I thought it sounded pretty believable.” Her muffled scoff was all the answer he needed. “Fine, so it wasn’t. Maybe I panicked a little. I missed you and I didn’t want to be too obvious about it.”

She cupped his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. Her eyes shone with mischief. “You were painfully obvious about it.” He rolled his eyes and she snickered. “We used to go years without seeing each other, sometimes decades! And now you become a mess after a measly two? What happened to you, kedvesem?”

“Calling me ‘a mess’ might be an exaggeration.” Gilbert leaned his head into her hand. He noticed that it was more calloused than before. There would be more to explore and learn about her and he was eager to discover it all. “That is a question I’ve been asking myself for a couple centuries now. One I think you have the answer to.”

At last, Erzsébet provided him with a mercy and closed the distance between them. Her lips had the bitter taste of the red wines she preferred, but how could he mind the flavor? In his desperation, everything about them was as thrilling as their first kiss. It had been too long and he felt a need to make up for lost time, to convince her to never stay away for that long again. With little urging, she was in his lap and her hands were twisted in his hair and he knew that all of heaven’s riches were worth nothing compared to this.

In between each kiss he gave her neck, he whispered, “I missed you.” By the fourth one, she was laughing with her head collapsed in his chest.

“I get it, Gil. Believe me, I won’t be doing that again.” He hardly felt her lips against his jawline. “Now more than before, you’re stuck with me.”

If that was a threat, it was one he was happy to live with. To be hers again was more than enough for him.

[scottybrock]

Stretch Marks - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a beautiful anon: “Hello! I hope you’re doing good? Can i please request a fluffy Colby imagine where the reader is too self conscious to sleep with Colby or for him to see the reader naked because they have stretch marks, but when he finds the reason out he’s just really sweet about it and is like really reassuring and stuff?Thanks!”

It wasn’t Colby. 

Really, it wasn’t. It was all you. One thing that you did, that you hated, was getting in your head too much. You’d never think or speak to a human being the way that you thought about yourself. It wasn’t even that you necessarily hated yourself. Except, you did. You knew that you were pretty. Beautiful, even. Colby told you so every single day, with gentle touches and soft smiles that broke down your walls faster than a wrecking ball. His bright blue eyes, dark with want as he ran his hands down your sides, his lips enticingly swollen from kissing for long minutes. The pretty flush in his cheeks as he looked at you from under long eyelashes. But it didn’t matter. All of the loving words and touches couldn’t change your mind. Your body was flawed, imperfect. You hated it.

The furthest you’d gone was just heavy petting, above clothes. It wasn’t anything Colby was doing, honestly. There was one thing that made you want to claw your skin off when you saw them marking your body. Stretch marks. You hated yours, as they were dark and obvious against your skin. Otherwise perfectly smooth skin, marred by an imperfection, in your opinion. You’d cried to your girlfriends about them, hating them with every fiber of your being. “They’re so gross,” You’d wept to Devyn and Tara. “I fucking hate them, and I can’t take my shirt off in front of Colby, because he’d see-” 

The girls tried to convince you that he would love you. All of you. Deep down, you knew that. it was your own insecurities that were killing you slowly. You were your biggest critic, your biggest hater. You were cruel, hateful, disgusted... to, and by, yourself. Hate comments never bothered you, because anything that any hater had to say to you, you already thought worse about yourself. 

Colby, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly worried. Instead of melting into his touch like you did in the beginning, you would stiffen and shut him down, shying away from him as fast as you could without seeming rude. He wondered if you just weren’t attracted to him anymore. Maybe you didn’t even love him anymore. His heart twisted painfully at the thought. He loved you, with everything he had, every fiber of his being. 

To him, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in the world. The way your eyes lit up when he walked into the room would forever be his kryptonite. The way your lips curled up into a soft, sweet smile across the room from him, your eyes shining with love and adoration would make his heart pound erratically. The way your body curved against his, fitting against him perfectly, slotting against him like a puzzle piece. Everything. He loved everything. 

It wasn’t even just your looks that had him head over heels. You were kind and sweet, without being a pushover. You were fiercely loyal and protective over the people you cared about. You were the funniest person he’d ever met, but you never took your jokes too far. You were understanding and supportive. In fact, you were his biggest supporter. You cheered the loudest when he succeeded, and helped him back to his feet when he fell. 

He didn’t know why you were pushing him away, and it hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever felt. His heart ached at the hesitancy on your face, the stiffness in which you held yourself. You were unhappy, and he didn’t know why, but he was resolute in finding out why. He never wanted to see you anything less than happy.

“I think she’s going to break up with me,” Colby blurted to Jake. Jake nearly choked on his food, coughing horrendously as Tara pounded him on the back with her fist. “Why would you even-” Jake began, his eyes watering from his choking and coughing. Tara stiffened, her eyes suddenly avoiding Colby’s. Colby narrowed his eyes at her. 

“You know something.” He accused. Tara shifted on her chair, her shoulders hunching up defensively. “It’s not my place to say-” She began, but Colby cut her off, his bright blue eyes pleading. “Please,” He begged. “I don’t even know what I did, but I want to fix it!”

Tara sighed, turning to face Colby. “It’s not you,” She replied. Colby opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand, silencing him. “It’s really not. She’s... Insecure about her body. She hates it, and she hates that she’s so scared to take things further with you, because she does love you,” Tara continued. “But she hates her body.” Colby’s jaw hung open, and Tara eyed him, concerned. 

“But...” Colby floundered. “But, she’s the most beautiful person in the whole wide world!” Tara nodded at that. “She doesn’t feel that way,” She told him. Colby stood up, his head swimming in the new information that had been bestowed upon him. It wasn’t him. It was something much worse; you, not loving yourself. 

Colby marched back into the apartment. You lifted your head, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “Colbs!” You chirped. Colby stalked straight towards you, then grabbed your face, pressing his lips against yours. You squeaked at the sudden action, but melted against him nonetheless. Colby dropped down onto the couch next to you, pulling you onto his lap. He pulled away slightly, but not far. His lips still brushed against yours as he spoke. “I love you,” He murmured, his voice passionate and oddly emotional. Your eyelids were hooded, your eyelashes brushing against his skin. “I love you, too.” You replied, your voice breathy and soft.

Colby crushed his lips against yours once more, his actions filled with urgency. You eagerly reciprocated, adjusting your position on his lap so that you were straddling him. He groaned against your lips, his hands drifting down to the hem of your shirt. Your reaction was instant. You froze, your whole body stiffening. You pulled back, shaking your head at him. “Colby,” You began, but he cut you off. 

“I know,” He murmured. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I know that you don’t like your body, and you think that I won’t either. But it’s not fair to assume that just because you don’t like your body, I won’t either,” Colby’s voice was soft, gentle. “And it’s not true. I love you. Everything about you. Even the things you hate about yourself, I love.” Your eyes welled up with tears, and your lower lip quivered slightly. 

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Colby breathed. “Inside and out. I love you. Every single part of you.” Your tears spilled over, and Colby brushed them away with his lips, his hands gently rubbing against your back. You let out a soft whimper, then bowed your head so that your forehead was resting against his. “Can I?” He asked, his voice soft, sweet. You nodded, your lips trembling. 

His hands delved underneath your shirt, his fingers brushing against the stretch marks on your stomach. “So soft,” He murmured. “So warm.” He began to lift your shirt up. You shifted in your seat slightly, so he could have more room to do so. You felt exposed, in more ways than one. You watched his face as he tugged your shirt off. His eyes were filled with love and adoration, his lips parting slightly at the sight of you. 

“So beautiful,” Colby breathed, his fingers tracing the part of you that you hated most. “So, so beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed a rosy shade of pink, and your lips curled up into a soft, shy smile. “Picasso would be jealous, that he never painted anything as beautiful as you.” Colby’s fingers continued their exploration of your body, his fingers gentle and soft against your skin. 

Colby pulled you into another kiss, this one being much softer and sweeter than the ones before it. When he pulled back, he continued tracing your stretch marks, a soft, sweet smile on his face. You felt the tension ease from your body, melting against him again. Once again, Colby Brock exceeded your expectations. 

His lips were still curved into that soft, sweet smile as he met your gaze, his fingers still brushing against the marks on your body that maybe, just maybe, you could learn to love.

[metalbatandzenko]

Help, People Think My Bodyguard Is Hot!AU

So I posted earlier about the fact that my dumbass gremlin brain managed to mix a Bodyguard AU, Fake Dating AU, Unrequited Love, Childhood Friends, and Mutual Pining into one AU...this is that AU. It’s Mumensai and Flashysonic endgame.

Main Plot:

So Flashy Flash is an idol and Mumen’s his personal assistant. The two have been working together for a few years, and Flash has come to trust Mumen’s judgement, even though he thinks Mumen can be a bit high-strung/get’s anxious easily. 

The night before a major event, Flash’s security detail fell through.

Mumen panics, and asks his best friend Saitama, who works as a security contractor/bodyguard at a company he and Genos own.

Previously, Mumen hadn’t asked him to because Mumen was worried it would come off as biased, and Saitama thought that was fair. Plus he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea of working for Flashy Flash in the first place, so no hard feelings.

This time around was an emergency though, so Saitama agrees to fill in, and brings a few of his coworkers (it is supposed to be a detail after all. He’s pretty sure that means more than one guy. He’s not sure to be honest, Genos handles the logistics most of the time.)

There ends up being a scuffle at Flash’s show and long story short Saitama takes down like 6 guys.

Flash is suitably impressed and offers him a position as his personal bodyguard Saitama being the cheapskate he is, and hearing the paycheck associated with it accepts on the spot.

Everything’s going smoothly for a few days, but then someone on twitter tweets a picture of Saitama helping Flash out of his limo with the caption “Wait is it just me or is Flashy Flash’s bodyguard hot? 😳”

Saitama becomes an overnight sensation (remember Kylie Jenner’s bodyguard? Yeah that) and people start following him on socials, except—you know—he’s Saitama so his ig account isn’t curated pictures but is just stupid pics of things in his house and him goofing off with Genos (who is also his roommate) and King.

He gets even more popular when someone posts a video of Saitama taking down the guys at Flashy’s show.

Flash is pretty amused by this, and thinks Saitama’s floundering in the new spotlight is really funny. 

He gives Saitama a few tips and tricks on how to keep a clean feed for ig (which Saitama only follows sometimes), and has Mumen create a twitter account for him under the username baldandbeautiful and get it verified. 

Saitama does not think this is funny, and begins tweeting absolute nonsense to try to spite Flash. This does not work. He keeps gaining followers. What the fuck. His tweet that was just “do you think birds know we love them” got 81k retweets. What is twitter.

So Flash, Saitama and Mumen continue on like this for a few months, and things are going swimmingly.

Then it comes out that Amai Mask (Flashy’s ex who he had a really messy public breakup with) began dating his personal bodyguard (Sonic).

Now Amai seeing someone new would be fine by itself, but it turns out Sonic is Flash’s childhood friend, and ex. 

So Flash vents to Saitama about how his exes are dating just to spite him and how he needs to figure out his next public appearance because all eyes are going to be on him.

Spoiler alert: he ends up going and partying at a club and getting wasted. This isn’t especially out of the ordinary for him, but what is out of the ordinary is him climbing on Sai’s lap in the middle of the lounge, and leaning in to kiss him. (The paparazzi lose their minds)

Saitama pulls back and asks him what he’s doing and Flash (who it turns out is actually completely sober) explains the publicity behind him dating his famous hot bodyguard would be great for both of them and he’ll double how much he’s paying him.

Saitama hesitates for a moment because he’s been in love with Mumen since they were in high school, but he relents, because honestly, money is tight, and Mumen doesn’t like him back so there’s no reason to hold out. And Flash is attractive, so there are worse people to pretend to date.

Flash and Saitama’s “steamy makeout sesh” is all over the rag magazines the next day and they’re getting tons of good publicity from it. 

Mumen starts acting a bit weird around Saitama which he gets—Mumen’s always been a romantic so him pretending to date someone wouldn’t sit well with the guy.

The two continue to fake date for a while. Flash ends up genuinely falling for Saitama, but also confesses to him while drunk one night that he’s still in love with Sonic. 

Saitama in turn confides in him that he’s been in love with someone for years, but is scared of ruining what they have by telling them.

He doesn’t tell Flash who it is, but Flash puts two and two together and just has to watch Mumen and Saitama pine for each other like idiots. He eventually ends up “firing” him as a boyfriend but keeping him on as his security guard.

But anyways it ends up with Flashysonic, Mumensai and Amai x Tons of money from the breakup album he puts out ajrbvttv

Other characters:

Sonic is a private contractor. His backstory is actually fairly similar to canon in terms of having taken jobs as a hitman, bodyguard and/or thief. He and Flash grew up together, and “dated” up until fairly recently. When Flash got discovered, it drove a wedge between the two of them and they split on bad terms. He ended up hired as extra security for an event Amai was holding. Despite being told he could enjoy himself as he was mostly there for show bc Amai could handle himself, he ended up taking down a guy who tried to attack Amai Mask, and made quick work of him. When Amai mentioned he could handle himself, Sonic told him to shut up, because he’d hired him for a job, and damn if he wasn’t going to do it. Amai, surprisingly, found this hilarious it helps he that found Sonic attractive and ends up offering him a job. He still sees Saitama as his rival because Saitama once caught him trying to steal from his client and knocked him out. He ended up wiggling out of a felony charge because his client at the time was incredibly wealthy and got him a good lawyer.

Amai Mask is still a famous actor, singer and model. He and Flash dated briefly (originally for publicity but they both got attached). It ended because he realized Flash was still in love Sonic.

Genos is Saitama’s roommate and coworker. He handles more of the business/logistical end of their security work, but he’s no pushover, and occasionally contracts out himself. Saitama usually benches him though because he has a tendency to get in fights.

King is one of the bodyguards but he’s mostly there to add numbers to the security details bc he can’t fight for shit, he just looks big and scary enough that people back down. He actually does better with the tech elements, and he and Genos work on that together.

Fubuki is Flash’s current agent. She’s constantly trying to help him raise his status, and by extension her own. She poaches a few of Saitama’s employees/coworkers to come work for her, or sign a contract for her. (What? You’ve managed to surround yourself with very attractive bodyguards. They could make it as models, Saitama.)

Tatsumaki is Amai Mask’s agent, and Fubuki’s older sister. She discovered Amai Mask, and turned him into a worldwide phenomenon. 

Badd and Garou probably won’t make a major appearance in this AU but if they do, it’ll be as Saitama and Genos’ coworkers that Fubuki successfully convinces to go into modelling...but not under her.

[dustylovelyrun]

Novel Prep Tag: Viva La Revenge of the Deceased

(The title is still a work in progress)

Tagged by @keen2meecha. Thank you so much, human!

First Look

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch).

Conchobhar Raelyn expected many things from life, most of them unusual, but one of the few things that she hadn’t, one that she considered out of the realm of possibility, impossible, and therefore never happening, was stumbling upon the ghost of her estranged, childhood friend, Thomas Dionisio, in the middle of her living room at five a.m. She also hadn’t expected that, in the face of his untimely death, she would be the number one person on his list of earth-bound mortals to help him enact his revenge, either, but here she was.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Novella, single book, book series, etc.)

It’s going to be more than a single book. I’m not sure if it’ll be a duology or trilogy, but there’s probably not going to be more than three.

3. What’s your novel’s aesthetic?

Large forests filled with towering trees, and encampments hidden deep within. The scent of smoke in the air, and inexplicably cold winds. A city street filled with unmemorable people, a stream of faces that fade away and dissipate in the wind. Warmth, and exasperation, but also the feeling of feet dangling high above roiling seas, and the growing steel of determination.

4. What other stories inspired your novel?

I’m not sure, but. There’s one person on here. They have a burning man in one of their wips? I’ve forgotten who, but my brain might’ve run away with that, a bit. Someone burned up, charred and mangled, and trapped in a ghostly form. And there’s a few touches of BNHA characters in there, too. And a tumblr post about aromantics marrying for tax benefits and convenience. 

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for the novel

Main Characters

6. Who is your protagonist?

Conchobhar Raelyn is the main protagonist. Thomas Dionisio is the secondary one. He’s as important as she is, no doubt, but most of it’s told through her view.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Declan and Jezebel. Both of them are Conchobhar’s sort-of partners. It’s a little bit more complicated, and it’s honestly more platonic than anything, but. That’s where the post comes in, and what they call each other. There’s an agreement between all of them that it’d literally take Hell tearing apart the Earth before any of them refused to stand by the others. For better or worse.

Thomas doesn’t... really have anybody but Conchobhar, so. He’ll have to make do with them, too.

8. Who is their enemy?

Probably the people that killed Thomas! And then a bunch of others, as both of them delve deeper into the circumstances of his death, and his life before that, and learn a little bit more about why everything happened. And the people that want to stop them from knowing that.

9. What do they want more than anything?

Thomas wants revenge, at first. And then he simply wants it to all end. And then he wants to pull Conchobhar out of it, because that’s when stuff gets bad. Really bad.

Conchobhar wants to help him move on. Or at least feel a little bit of satisfaction that he couldn’t have when he was alive. And then she wants to raze a bunch of stuff to the ground, while simultaneously finding out if you can trap a ghost in a bottle.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Because the truth is always a lot more complicated than it initially seems, and they’ve barely scratched the surface. And for them to have their revenge, they need the truth. To know. Without it, it’s only wild guessing, and inevitably hurting someone that they didn’t intend to.

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Thomas believes that he’ll never be able to move on without any of it happening, (maybe, but turning into a poltergeist is always a thing, and it’s not like he won’t have superiority over them in hell, anyway) and Conchobhar believes that there isn’t much choice, because she owes him this much, at least, after inadvertently abandoning him to this fate.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

So, fun fact. Two of them, actually. I can’t draw people, and I don’t use face claims. And I have prosopagnosia, so I don’t usually pay much attention to that, anyway? Not unless the characters become aliens, or a made up creature, or something. You’ll have to fly in as blind as I am, when it comes to how they look.

Plot Points

13. What is the internal conflict?

Conchobhar has absolutely no idea how to do any of this, and she’s floundering, out of her comfort zone, and lost. But she refuses to call for help from anyone that she knows, in fear that something might happen to them, too.

Thomas really doesn’t want to involve her in this, despite what it looks like, but she was literally the only living person he could latch onto. You need some sort of emotional attachment, and like hell will he do that with his tormentors. But he isn’t sure if he could spend the rest of eternity understanding what’s happened, and knowing that he could’ve retaliated, and then didn’t.

14. What is the external conflict?

To find the person that killed Thomas, they need to follow a trail. One that twists and bends, and curves in all the wrong places. That’s never in a straight forward line, and leaves behind more questions than answers. And the more they look at it, the more confused, the more wary, both of them feel, because it’s all quickly turning into something more than either of them can handle. Together or alone.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Thomas already kind of experienced it. He was torn apart, and then died in the flames that were meant to destroy his body. But another thing that could hit him hard is if something happened to his brother, wherever the heck he is, or if he causes Conchobhar to become seriously hurt. Or even dead.

Conchobhar would just. Loose it if something happened to the people that she loves. That’s the worst thing. But it could be made even worse if it was directly because of her, and what’s she’s doing now.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

“I’m sorry, they’re doing what?” For the overall series, but for this specific book, it would be “What the fuck did he do? What did you do?”

17. Do you know how it ends?

Sort of? I have some impressions that are guiding me towards it. One direction. And a possible ending. But I’m not actually sure what that ending is. Just - what it might become, if that makes sense.

18. What is the theme?

There’s some pretty significant themes of loyalty and retribution. Retribution of someone that had literally been discarded, forgotten, and buried in the past. A person that shouldn’t be a problem, but then is, and the people in their life that are determined to make sure there is retribution for what happened, even if it means bringing heaven and hell down onto their knees to do so.

19. What is a recurring symbol?

Probably what’s mentioned above, but if that doesn’t count, then I’m not sure. It’s only nineteen days old, and there’s a lot of stuff to be worked on.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description)

There’s not one specific setting, the story’s kind of set all over the place. For the sake of their own safety, and to accomplish what they need to, Conchobhar and Thomas need to move around a lot. I’m also not really sure where they are, at this point. 

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

Oh, definitely! It’s mostly some impressions and pictures, right now. A few hints of emotion to shape it, and a vague understanding about the direction that some scenes need to go in.

22. What excited you about this story?

Thomas’ death! The circumstances leading to it, to be specific, and how those circumstances and the people involved will shape the story.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

It’s pretty messy. Inspiration can come from anywhere, and it’s usually from the character interactions in bigger franchises, or because my brother’s said a thing, and it had me scrambling for the keyboard. I also need music. But not just any music. It has to be the right music. And none of it’s chronological.

~

Legitimately did not expect to be able to say as much as I did. Honestly, this wip is still a baby. I shouldn’t know what I’m doing with this. But, hey. Can’t deny that this was helpful. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this, human!

Tagging: @feralsong, @rhiannonleewriting, @rehnwriter, @aelenko, @elemntum, @hellnar, @birdquils, @mariahwritesstuff, @sarahmariaria, @erinisawriter, @quillswithink, @ivonoris, @hazeywrites​, @coralblast​, @mayvinwrites​, @sxnrising​, @delphwrites​, @whorizcn​, @nmcwriting​, @typewrxter​, @rebelwritingwild​, @greenwood-writes​, @paracomas​

It’s a pretty big thing to ask, so don’t worry if you don’t want to / can’t do it. That’s fine, okay? I’d recommend keeping the list around for reference, though. It’s very helpful.

[spacecaced]

10 pls

prompt:#10 “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.”

I’ve let this ask sit for a while and I’m so sorry, but Iwas semi-saving it for when I could at least write something out that wasn’tcomplete rushed trash. this is still a bit rushed though, written during ashort break between classes and chugging my third cup of horrible campuscoffee. I finally sat down and edited it a bit. hope it’s, ya know, notterrible!

and if anyone has any prompts, numbered or otherwise, feelfree to send them to my ask, it’s always appreciated.

The thing about Steve is, he’s kind of incredibly oblivious. 

But there are worse things. He could be just a walking moron,but in Robin’s professional opinion (as a terrible best friend) he’s, at thevery most, a semi-functional space case.

The point is, Steve’s so Steve that hemight as well be blind to anything that isn’t explicitly spelled out to hisface. He jumps to conclusions sometimes, which are almost always wrong, and forthe most part he’s just content to ignore the nagging feeling in the back ofhis mind telling him he’s missed something.  

Maybe he’s just a sucker, but honestly there’s nothing wrong withbeing blissfully ignorant.

At least that’s what he’d been telling himself until Robin hadto go and wreck his delicate ecosystem of a very good thing going with Billy Hargrove.

It’s mid-summer break and Steve’s got his back pressed againstRobin’s in the middle of a park that isn’t really a park but a work inprogress. It’s close enough to the mall that they can bring their lunch outhere and enjoy the sound of trickling water from the decent looking fountaincenterpiece, while also getting some fresh air and exercise to sort of make upfor the greasy fries and takeout food they’ve got split between them.

“So,” Robin, and Steve knew by the tone of her voice nothinggood could follow, “how’re things with you and bright eyes?”

“He really hates it when you call him that,” Steve reminded,slurping noisily on a strawberry milkshake, pointedly ignoring theimplication. 

Steve remembers the first time Robin had met him, she’d squintedup at Billy, holding a hand up to shield some of the sun, and chirped out thatnickname like second nature. Billy had frozen in place, stunned, and forseveral moments there was silence, before Steve promptly laughed himself into afit because my god Billy looked like he was torn between mumbling out anawkward ‘thanks’ or biting out a defensive remark.

“He’s got these insanely bright eyes, what else am I supposed tocall him.”

Steve couldn’t really argue with that, Billy’s eyes being thekind of gorgeous a person could get lost in.

“You know there’s this funny thing called a name?”

“Nah, he’s bright eyes.” Robin says more decidedly.

“I think you just like pissing him off.”

“It’s true,” Robin agrees, with a shrug, “but how’re things withyou guys anyways, still in the honeymoon phase?”

Looking back, it would have been easier if he had the experienceand knowledge to just shrug and say something like ‘yeah sure’ but no, he hadto open his mouth and insert his foot right in.

“Honeymoon phase? That’s shit for like, people inrelationships,” Steve had tried fruitlessly to explain, steady as ever, poppingthe lid on his milkshake so he could dip his fries in, “Billy and I are justfucking around, you know that.”

“Come on, Stevie.” Robin had turned around, jostling Steve inthe process, fully facing him and pilfering from his fries, “you guys go ondates and shit like that – ” 

“We go to see movies – ”

“ – yeah and then you go to eat after, he always picks you upand takes you home right? He even stays over when your parents are out, don’tthink I didn’t notice you ditched me last weekend to ‘stay home’ you hate staying in that house allby yourself dude, I know you.”

“That’s – but – it’s not like that.” Steve finished weakly,absolutely floundering.

The thing is, Steve doesn’t do relationships.

Ever since Nancy, he doesn’t trust them, and he doesn’t likeputting his heart out there.

So, when Billy came along, with his seductive smile and lowvoice, with his easy eyes and that car – which okay, isn’t the best place tofuck in but is roomy enough for Steve to get his mouth on Billy and Billy’s handson him –Steve had jumped at the opportunity for something easy and fun. 

He’s a breath of fresh air that Steve has grown sort ofdependent on in the last eight months, when everything started and hasn’t shownany signs of slowing down.

“See, space case Stevie strikes again,” Robin adds pointedly,with a jab to his chest, food all but forgotten now, “bright eyes is so fuckinggone for you dude. He’s got heart eyes and everything.”

“You’re wrong.” Steve says, the wordsbursting like he’s trying to prove it to himself too, “you’re wrong and I’llprove it.”

Robin sits back, suddenly interested, “Oh yeah? How exactly areyou going to do that?”

That, in hindsight, was a good question.

It’s been four days and Steve still doesn’t have a damn clue howto bring that subject up himself.

He might as well have dug himself a hole and leaped into itvoluntarily, but it’s not his fault that Robin’s words are lodged in his brainlike a cancer.

He’s waiting outside the Starcourt Mall – thankfully this is oneof the days where he and Robin have opposite shifts so Steve doesn’t have todeal with her interrogations – and focuses all his willpower on gathering upwhatever courage is rattling around in him, untouched, to ask the kind ofquestion that will most surely ruin the one good thing he’s got going with Billy.

His phone chimes and he digs it out of his jacket pocket – gladhe had time to change out of his uniform because the last time Billy had pickedhim up while he was wearing that ridiculous getup, they’d learned first handthat fucking in the Camaro was a no-go and Steve’s uniform didn’t wash out easy– there’s about four notifications from Robin, slacking off on the job likeshe’s good at, and two messages from Billy that wreck Steve.

— hope you’re wearing those jeans I like

— be there soon baby

The comment about his jeans makes him laugh, because he iswearing the pair Billy likes to see him in, but the affectionate nicknametacked on at the end of the last message gives him pause.

Billy’s a fan of nicknames, he always has been.

But those nicknames: princess, pretty boy, pouty lips, sweetcheeks etc. They never mean anything; the only real purpose is to tease him.

Baby is a whole other story.

Baby is what you call someone you’re dating, someone you care about,and Steve can almost perfectly hear the way Billy’s voice would sound too. Thesmooth brush of the word against his lips as it rolls off Billy’s tongue soeasy. He can imagine it with perfect clarity because, he realizes with an awfulsinking feeling, he wants it.

He doesn’t just want to settle for imaging it. He wants the realthing.

Again, he blames Robin for making him think of feelings and thepossibility that Billy might be just as invested as Steve has unwittingly orsubconsciously let himself become.

He isn’t even sure if Billy is aware of even typing that, butwhen the familiar hum of the Camaro registers Steve finds himself sliding intothe passenger seat like second nature.

Billy’s eyes are on him, they always are, with one hand on thewheel and his sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. There’s thateasy grin on his face, not quite a smile but one of content. Billy always getsthat look on his face whenever Steve’s around, but it’s the first time he’sreally bothering to wonder why.

“How long have you got the house to yourself this time?” Billyasks, focusing back on the road while Steve lets his gaze linger.  

It’s hard now to ignore everything, bathed in sunlight with thefaint smell of Billy’s cologne and body wash. The sun cutting through thecrystal-clear windshield, fresh from a wash no doubt, since Billy takes care ofthe car better than himself, and shining in the soft waves of Billy’s hair,recently cut short – Steve kind of misses the length from before. He missesthe reaction he could gain from planting himself in Billy’s lap, tangling hisfingers in the long strands, and tugginguntil Billy’s making these beautiful pleading sounds, completely at Steve’smercy – but still no less attractive.

His thoughts are getting dangerous, so he shifts in his seat, “Probablythe whole weekend, maybe longer.”

They’re in Hawaii again, some long training seminar that his dadsigned up for, it used to bother him sometimes how they’d just up and leavehim. After the thrill of throwing parties without the fear of getting caughtwore off, it just left an empty feeling.

But then along came Billy, who takes up so much space all on hisown with loud noises and energy that sizzles. Steve thrives on it because he’drather drown in warmth, in someone, than in the stiff loneliness of an emptyhome too big for one person.

Billy fills up all the empty spaces in his life and Steve wasdoing fine just enjoying it, notasking questions or wondering where all of this was going. Because it’s easierto just go along with a good thing than to question it and have it blow up inhis face.

It’s the reason he can’t shake Robin’s words, because he’sscared. He’s scared that maybe he hasn’t been imagining those lingering glancesand the attention to detail Billy always shows him and he knows that as much ashe likes to tell himself it’s just messing around, it’s anything but.

“Steve?”

Billy’s voice, almost blending with the hum of the radio, bringshim back from drifting too far in his thoughts.

“You’re getting all spacey on me, pretty boy,” Billy says andSteve rolls his eyes while fighting a blush.

“Sorry, got a lot on my mind.” thanks to Robin.

Billy goes quiet for a bit, turning onto the street where Stevelives, “Anything I can help with?”

He’s usually a lot more talkative on these drives of theirs, butSteve’s been overanalyzing everything for the past twenty minutes instead. It’seasy to relax around Billy, to let all the tension of a day at work just meltaway, but Steve’s all wound up today and he’s sure that Billy can see it.

It’s no use even trying to lie, “Just – it’s stupid – just Robinbeing,” he gestures.

“Robin?” Billy finishes for him, a smile tugging at the cornerof his lips.

Steve hates how good that look on him is, “Exactly.”

By the time the Camaro is parked, settled on the driveway of theHarrington’s place like it belongs there, it’s not hard to see that no matterhow much he wants to make up excuses or deny what’s happening; Billy has becomesome fixed point in Steve’s life, silently and steadily without much commotionat all.

It’s a bit alarming.

“Hey, I gotta deliver that part to Benny –” Billy was sayingonce they were inside, tossing his keys onto the little table by the front doorand hanging his jacket in the hall closet where it belonged, Steve was slowerto follow.

Before, they’d hardly make it in the door before Billy wassucking at his neck or pushing his shirt up and over his head. They would havebeen leaving a trail of clothes all the way up to Steve’s room. Hell, sometimesthey wouldn’t even make it to a room – Steve blames Billy for being so goddamninsatiable and making him just as starved in return – but now they’re makingsmall talk and Billy’s only touched his ass once on the way into the kitchen.

But even that was intimate, as far as ass grabbing goes, andSteve can’t piece himself together enough to not make an idiot of himself.

“What are we doing?” He asks, he can’t even help himself really,he has to know, leaned up against the counter.

Billy looks at him like he’s grown another head, water bottle inhand as the fridge shuts behind him, “That’s what I was just asking you. Like Isaid, Benny needs that part and I figure if we’re already going to be overthere we could just grab something to eat at the diner.”

“Not, not that I mean –” so much for letting it happennaturally, “I mean us, Billy.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, like…” Steve gripped at the countertop behind him, “whenwe started this we agreed it’d be casual, like no string attached, but – but itjust doesn’t feel like that anymore, it feels like it’s so much more than justthat and I –”

“You want to stop…”

Steve’s ridiculous rambling is cut off straight away and heglances over at Billy this time, in time to see the way he retreats intohimself a bit, the stiffness in his stance and alright maybe he shouldn’t havestarted the conversation like this, but goddamn was he fumbling.

“No, no, no. I don’twant to stop.” he rushes, closing the space between them till he can smellBilly’s fancy cologne and nearly hear his heart beating out of his chest, voicegrowing smaller as Billy’s hands find their way to his waist on instinct justas Steve loops his arms around Billy’s neck and it’s moments like these hereally misses Billy’s longer hair, “That’s kind of the point, I don’t ever wantto stop being with you.”

Billy’s eyes kind of sparkle, that fire back in them like Steveis familiar with, a playfulness in his tone, “You askin’ me to go steady with you, Harrington?”

And Steve pinches the back of his neck, just enough, “You’re areal smartass you know, ruining my romantic speech and all that.”

“Romantic? Doubtful, I’ve been putting in the real work here,you think it’s easy trying to win you over, lemme tell you babe you’re toughwork.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, kind of oblivious too, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

“You’re lucky I’m crazy about you.” Billy tells him, and allSteve can do is grin before tugging Billy down so they’re kissing in the middleof the kitchen. A place he’d never really set foot in much before but now he’scome to have memories in every part of the house.

Making breakfast – burningbreakfast – with Billy in the mornings. Showering while Billy brushes his teethand does all his tedious grooming. Billy falling asleep with his head pillowedin Steve’s lap, watching reruns of some sitcom. Going for a Sunday swim in the pooland feeling more alive than ever. Mostly, just waking up to Billy with his armstight around Steve and his annoyingly loud snoring and knowing that this waswhat it felt like to be loved.

“You’re mine now, no take backs.” Steve adds, but somehow he’s sure that won’t be a problem.

(Of course, the next day at work, Steve was barely in the doorbefore Robin was shooting him an all-too knowing look. Steve doesn’t evenbother with words, just flips her off on his way out to the counter and triesto ignore the shriek of I knew it!Because honestly, for once he’s glad she was right.)

[phoenix-angel-suyari]

Why I think Jon Snow will ultimately win the Game of Thrones.

Under a cut for those of you who are still catching up, those of you who want to binge the whole damn thing once it’s over, and those for whom GoT holds absolutely no allure and would like to stop seeing it all over the place.

Putting aside birthrights and blood claims, there is one really big reason why I feel Jon will win: He doesn’t want it. Jon is perhaps one of the only characters in the entire story who literally doesn’t want any real power. He never has. All Jon has ever wanted was to be accepted and acknowledged. To get out from under the stigma of being a bastard and get to live as a member of his own damn family. Jon’s motivations have always revolved around a strict moral compass and a desire to be a part of group of people who will reward him with affection.

As much as he got to grow up as a Lord’s son, he was still regarded as unimportant and disposable, even in his father’s house. Ned made sure that Jon had an education. Jon was taught to fight and to read and how to be a just and honorable person. But, being honorable when one ultimately has no socially innate honor is perhaps one of the most difficult ways to exist. Especially because as he was branded a bastard, Jon was raised with the belief that he was not worthy of respect or consideration; no matter what he did or how high he rose, he would always be the Bastard of Winterfell. Which ultimately negated any accomplishments or achievements he may win for himself. And he has always been fully conscious of this fact.

Jon joins the Nightwatch because he feels it is the only place in all the world where he might be able to be someone, to make a difference, and to be accepted for who he is and what he can do. Jon wants a family. Jon wants to belong and be a part of society in a meaningful way. All he has ever wanted is acceptance and acknowledgement, and he hoped to find that among a sworn brotherhood. Unfortunately for him, the Night’s Watch was like pretty much any other dream in GoT - a fairytale, a fantasy, something which seems ideal but is anything but. Jon struggles to be accepted among his new sworn brothers because, ironically, despite being a Bastard, he is Ned Stark’s son. He is his father’s shame and his very existence seems to be just cause for wild speculation, ridicule, bullying, and general disgruntlement. Most members of the Night’s Watch are low born and were conscripted against their will in order to avoid punishment for some seriously brutal crimes. Jon’s morality and sense of duty, loyalty and honor are a source of entertainment and cause him to stick out. The fact that he was clearly well educated by his Lord father makes many jealous and untrusting of him. Despite this, Jon manages to rise among them seriously quickly. Even though he is being put in worse and worse situations, Jon manages to continue to not only survive them, but accomplish heretofore inaccessible goals. Jon is a freaking golden child, who is unbelievably good at everything, even when he himself is personally floundering, flailing, and otherwise irreconcilably failing.

Jon would have been perfectly happy to have stayed in Winterfell if things would have been better for him there. He would have been content to be at his brothers’ side, supporting them in their legitimacy. If Catelyn would have kept her promise to the Seven, even if she did it later in Jon’s life, or only so far as to let him be acknowledged as Ned’s son - just as worthy of respect and due consideration for the good his father instilled in him - everything would have been so much different. If Jon could have had his family amongst his own blood, then he would have devoted his entire life to them, and perhaps, more of them would be alive now. Jon is incredibly loyal, especially to those he loves and respects. He would have gladly given his life to protect any member of his family. Hell, he probably would have even died in Catelyn’s place willingly, if for the fact that she was his siblings’ mother and the loss of her would have hurt them. Jon would have supported Robb when the North succeeded from the Westerosi crown. He would have been at his side protecting and advising him. Robb would have entrusted a lot of tasks with Jon because he would have never had cause to doubt Jon. And Jon would have supported him in any and all ways he could.

Unfortunately for everyone, that never came to pass. However, just because Jon doesn’t want power, does not mean power has not been given to him again and again. Jon seems to be constantly falling into positions of power, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be in power. Power is continually granted to him because he is a good commander. Jon wants what’s best for everyone - whether or not everyone or anyone agrees with him - and will do anything he can to ensure the survival of all. He will make decisions that no one agrees with. He will put himself in serious peril. Jon would die just as easily for a wildling as for a Westerosi and that makes him unusual, but that also makes him worthy of respect. Because Jon values life, no matter where it comes from.

Jon becomes the 198th Lord Commander - a position he didn’t want - based on his own merit. Because a significant portion of his sworn brothers respect and admire him. Jon is later killed in cold blood because a rival faction of sworn brothers do not agree with his choices. Jon’s body is literally fought over. His closest friends and confidants barricading themselves in with his corpse in order to protect any further desecration of his person. An entire army of wildlings comes to the defense of his dead body. They overtake Castle Black just so Jon’s own can give him a proper funeral. Jon is resurrected because people believe in him so much, they refuse to just allow his death to happen. They refuse to live in a world where Jon Snow does not exist.

Even after everything that has happened to him, after not even being given time to come to terms with his own murder and subsequent restoration, and despite how utterly exhausted of the way his entire life has been one long uphill battle in the snow, when Sansa comes to him for refuge and Ramsay threatens his family, Jon pulls himself up by the bootstraps and goes to subjugate himself to the Northern Lords for assistance in retaking his family’s home for his SIBLINGS. Not for himself. He is not expecting to be rewarded for his actions in any way. All he wants to do is rescue his brother, avenge his sister, and secure their home so they will be safe.

When his youngest brother is killed right in front of him, Jon full on fucking snaps. Ramsay signed his own freaking death warrant with a single arrow. Jon would have probably happily beaten Ramsay to death with his own bare hands if he hadn’t been pulled out of the blood rage. Because Ramsay stole the only thing that’s ever mattered to Jon; his family.

Jon succeeds in his bid for Winterfell - with all due assistance  - and is crowned King in the North. He did not go into the Battle for Winterfell with the intent of becoming Lord of Winterfell. He’d already turned down the seat when it was offered to him by Stannis Baratheon. He accepts, because he understands what is coming for his people. He knows he is the only one who will give the threat the consideration it deserves, and the crown is a means to an end. Jon becomes King in the North because it’s the only thing he can do to save countless lives. He goes to Dragonstone in person to treat with Daenerys because he wants to afford her the proper respect - “Daenerys is a Queen. Only a King can convince her to help us. It has to be me.” - and because they desperately need weapons, men, and her dragons. He resists bending the knee to Daenerys because he does not agree with her tactics. Only after she proves that she is willing to sacrifice for the good of all people, does Jon agree to bend the knee. And he does it with the knowledge that it is the only way to ensure the survival of everyone in his care.

Jon is used to making difficult decisions. He’s used to people directly challenging those decisions. He is used to having to fight for everything he has, just to keep his head above water. Jon has the makings of a great king because he is a good man. And he will win the Game of Thrones because, ultimately, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even consider himself a player.

It would be right in with GoT canon for Jon to be stuck with an even more powerful position - he neither asked for nor wanted. Both a blessing and a curse. Especially if, by the end of it all, he’s left with a victorious, but otherwise ailing Kingdom, heavy with the weight of loss and grief. A good deal of it, likely being his own.

[stupidnephilimlove]

Office Hours P15

Tagging @irisphryneadler @kindaresilient @ifthingsgetcrazy & @shiningalec as always. Read on ao3.  Or start at the beginning.

Magnus keeps texting over Christmas, and they just carry on right into January. Magnus arranges for Alec to meet Cat.

 Magnus (10.01.18 7:27 PM): How’s the 3rd of Feb to meet with Cat?

 Alec (10.01.18 7:28 PM): The 3rd is perfect. Just let me know when and where and I’m there.

 They talk about random things. Like the books Alec’s been reading.

 Alec (15.01.18 9:07 AM): I got addicted to the author of Adept, but somehow all their other work is more chilling!

 Magnus (15.01.18 9:15 AM): Well, thanks for the warning. I don’t think Chairman Meow will appreciate me sleeping with the light on again.

 The new class Magnus is teaching.

 Magnus (22.01.18 3:54 PM): It’s official. I hate first years. I’m sure I was never that annoying as a freshman.

 Alec (22.01.18 3:56 PM): Oh no, what are they doing? Pretty sure I was the most bookish freshman ever.

 Magnus (22.01.18 3:58 PM): Oh really? Showing up not a little late… but halfway through a lecture! Just walking in like they’re right on time. Had to pull a few of them up on it. Honestly, I’d rather they didn’t come at all than disrupt me like that.

 Alec sends Magnus tales about his crazy siblings and Magnus replies with ones about his crazier cat.

 Alec (27.01.18 7:05 AM): Izzy just heated her cornflakes in the microwave. I can’t decide if she did it on purpose or not. Dunno which is worse.

 Magnus (27.01.18 7:11 AM): That is… a little strange. Then again, Chairman Meow is currently licking the lampshades, the same way he does every morning.

 Alec (27.01.18 7:12 AM): I guess we both just have crazy housemates.

 Alec feels giddy with every text he receives. He spends his days constantly distracted, just waiting for a reply from Magnus, and as soon as he gets one he’s instantly replying. It’s as if they’re dating, and Alec, on more than one occasion has had to remind himself that they’re not. They’re not even friends.

While the texting is fun, Alec wants to see Magnus in person. Alec hasn’t been in the same room as Magnus since December and he’s not sure how he’s managed to survive. But as Alec sits in the little coffee shop, he’s thankful the wait is over. Nerves flutter in his stomach as he waits and his palms are sweaty. He wipes them on his trousers and tries to compose himself.

He was early, ridiculously so, so he spent an hour or two (or three) in the library. He wasn’t able to get any work done though. Too excited for this meeting. And then the door opens, and Magnus is pushing through it, eyes scanning the shop until they land on Alec. Has Alec really been living off his memories of Magnus for all this time? Because they can’t do Magnus justice. Not at all.

Alec’s made a study of Magnus’ wardrobe, but he’s never seen Magnus wearing anything like this before. A blue tunic, with silver metallic thread woven through it, hangs open in a deep V, allowing Alec to get a glimpse of Magnus’ firm chest. Long chains drape around Magnus’ neck drawing Alec’s eyes to that expanse of bare skin.

Alec manages not to drool as Magnus walks over. Though, it’s a close call. He forces his eyes up to meet Magnus’.

“Hello, Alexander,” Magnus says as he nears the table.

Alec scrambles to stand, then wonders what the fuck he did that for. He holds out a hand. The gesture has Magnus raising a brow but he accepts it. And would the floor just swallow Alec whole already?

“Hi,” Alec manages to get out.

Alec savours the feel of Magnus’ fingers wrapped around his own, the grip is firm and it sends pin prickles of sensation skittering along his arm.

“Coffee?” Magnus asks, but before Alec can refuse, Magnus’ eyes dart to the table. “No, you’ve got one. I’ll be a minute.”

And then he’s walking away and Alec’s going to need more than a minute to find some kind of equilibrium. Alec’s eyes are glued to Magnus as he walks away and Alec can’t help but watch as Magnus flirts good-naturedly with the staff, it’s clear they know each other. He just can’t drag his eyes away, and he’s still standing there. Fuck, why is he still standing there? Alec hurriedly sits in his chair, picks up his drink and instantly scalds his tongue.

It takes a few minutes for Magnus’ order to be made which gives Alec some time to compose himself. By the time Magnus takes a seat at the table, Alec’s got a handle on his desire. Mostly. It’s like the first time Alec ever saw Magnus, desire overwhelming him without warning. Being able to see Magnus weekly, Alec’s perhaps become desensitised to it. But now that he’s been deprived for weeks, it’s like it’s just been accumulating, waiting to hit him all at once.

“How’s your semester going so far?” Magnus asks. “Don’t remember which courses you’ve got this semester.”

Alec lists off his courses, then adds, “History 104 as well.”

Magnus sucks in a breath. “Aldertree?”

“Yeah.” Though it’s only one word, he knows he sounds as resigned as he feels about that whole course.

“It’s not going well?”

Alec means to say ‘ it’s going fine’ , but when he opens his mouth, those aren’t the words that come out. “I had some questions, and I went to his office to ask during the directed hours and he wasn’t even there. So… I emailed him and he never responded. Then this week... he made some comment… about how ‘everything that’s needed to pass this course is covered in the lecture ’. Apparently, he doesn’t ‘ believe in holding student’s hands’ through the course.”

So, it turns out that Alec might have some feelings about Aldertree. A simmering pit of frustration he’s been trying to not hold on to, and it just spills out of him, assaulting Magnus.

Magnus takes it well though, nodding in agreement. “Aldertree has a dislike of anyone whose major isn’t history... I’ve heard he’s purposefully obtuse with those taking the course for credit.”

Well, fuck. He signed up for these courses for extra credit, not to fail.

“Ugh… Maybe I should drop it. Can’t really afford to fail a class this close to graduation,” Alec says, thinking out loud.

Alec tries to recall the date for dropping a course. It’s not really as simple as that though because then he’ll have to find another course to pick up that isn’t already full. Then he’ll have to catch up on the weeks he’s missed. Or if there isn’t another course he’ll have to postpone his graduation.

“Got a copy of the course schedule?” Magnus asks.

“Yeah.”

“With you?”

Alec digs around in his book bag. He’s sure he has it; he was looking at it in the library earlier. There, Alec pulls it from his bag and slides it across the table. Magnus looks at it for a while.

“Hmm… okay, I can help you out,” Magnus eventually says.

“You can?” Alec’s reminded that Magnus might just be the most perfect person in the world.

“Yeah,” Magnus is about to continue but then someone calls his name from the door.

“Magnus,” a woman says, and Alec assumes this must be Cat.

“I’ll text you about it later,” Magnus tells Alec before he rises from the table and presses a kiss to the woman’s cheek.

“Cat,” Magnus greets. “This is Alexander.”

Alec stands too, and Cat raises an eyebrow as she gives him an assessing look. What is it with Magnus’ friends looking at him like they’re trying to figure him out?

“Alec is fine,” Alec says as he holds out a hand. Cat shakes it.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Alec. Drink?” she says, and her voice is warm and lovely.

“I’m good,” Alec tells her.

“Me too,” Magnus says. “In fact, now you’ve met I’ll head off. Don’t want me hovering.”

Alec, as always, wishes Magnus would never leave, and he savours the last few minutes of their time together while Cat orders a drink.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Magnus says to Cat before walking away and Alec’s eyes linger as Magnus does. And just, wow! Had Alec really thought those trousers that distracted him in that test were tight? Because these, well, Alec’s not sure they’re even decent. And when it comes to Magnus Bane, Alec’s given up on trying to control his responses. He knows his stare must be obvious. Especially when he turns to Cat and she’s got this amused smile on her face.

“So, Magnus tells me you’re interested in working in a publishing house?” Cat asks.

“I’ve… um.” Alec flounders for a minute before remembering that Magnus set this up as a favour for him, and he doesn’t want to come off as some bumbling idiot. He doesn’t want to reflect badly on Magnus. “Yeah, I want to be involved in publishing books. I’m just not settled on what role, or like… where my skills would be best utilized.”

That is a good answer, Alec thinks. Well, he hopes.

“Do you write, yourself?”

“A little... for fun in my free time. But I don’t really see myself as a writer.”

Alec uses writing to deal with everything going on in his life. He’s got a number of short stories that have never seen the light of day. They explore discovering sexuality and the way it affects not only the character but the world surrounding them. They’re personal. A little too much of himself in them, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever have the courage to share them. He doesn’t need to.

They talk for a long while, Cat outlining the different roles at most publishing houses, before going into more detail as she explains the job roles that make up Epeolatry.

“What type of books do you like to read?” Cat asks.

“I like to read a bit of everything, you know... But I tend to gravitate towards historical fiction, where it���s a mix of fact and fiction, or I read books with LGBT+ themes. It’s nice to read something you can identify with.”

Alec’s not sure if he should have said that. Not all employers are accepting of different sexual orientations, but Alec doesn’t think Magnus would be good friends with someone who was homophobic. Magnus is always very accepting.

“I adore historical fiction too, I keep trying to get Magnus to head more in that direction with his writing, but he’s firmly rooted in the non-fiction... or so he tells me.” Alec likes the way Cat talks about Magnus with such easy affection. It’s clear the two of them are close. “We’re actually working with a few LGBT authors currently… I guess it’s a pet project of mine.”

“Oh?”

“I think you got it right when you said it’s nice to read things you can identify with.”

Alec processes that. Magnus always used the word partner, never boyfriend or husband and Alec now wonders about Cat’s orientation. Maybe he’ll ask Magnus about it later. He doesn’t want to pry. And fuck, now he’s just expecting to be able to talk to Magnus? This texting thing they’re doing is really messing with his head.

“Anyway…” Cat continues. “It’s a new branch of the business and we’re just starting out. I wonder… maybe it would be beneficial for you to come see the offices and what we do?”

Really?

“That would be okay?” Alec asks.

“Of course. I’m always showing people round, but you could talk with a few of the staff and see whether you think it’s for you.”

Alec considers it for a minute, but he can’t take her up on it.

“Thanks, but… um. Don’t feel like you have to offer because Magnus is your friend,” he tells Cat. He appreciates it, but he just can’t accept it.

Cat shakes her head. “That’s not the reason, Alec.” She leans forward on the table, eyes on his and a smile he can’t identify the meaning of on her lips. “We have some internships in the summer with possible full-time positions, and maybe I’m considering how to get you to apply.”

What? Him? He’s got no experience. Although, that’s probably why internships exist.

“I’m a quick judge of character and I like you. I’m not saying you’ll get the internship, it depends on the application process… but... given our conversation and the things Magnus has said about you…” Wait. Magnus talks about Alec? To his friends? What does that even mean? What does he say? “...I think you’d be a good fit for our company.”

Alec seems to have lost his voice, and Cat must take that for disbelief in what she’s saying because she adds, “Okay, let me make you a promise. If you apply and we take you on, it will be on your own merit.” Then she waves a hand. “Wait... that’s too much... I’m sorry, got carried away.”

Alec has to smile. He really likes her. He can see why Magnus is friends with her.

“The offer to come and look around still stands,” she says.

It’s… well, it’s really sort of perfect. Almost too perfect an opportunity to turn down, but still. He feels hesitant about it.

“I’ll… can I think about it?” Alec asks.

“Of course. Here.” Cat passes him a card and Alec tries to keep his fingers steady as he takes it from her. “Just give me a call. And… though I shouldn’t push it, go take a look at the internship? The application is all online.”

Alec shakes his head with a laugh and gives in. “Okay, I’ll look it up.”

They talk for a little while longer, but about more general things and when Cat leaves Alec turns the card over and over in his fingers. He’s seriously considering her offer.

-

Magnus (03.02.18 5:27 PM): How’d the meeting go?

 Alec (03.02.18 5:28 PM): Well. I think. Cat’s great.

 Magnus (03.02.18 5:32 PM): She liked you. Take her up on the offer to look around.

 Alec’s a little stumped by that. Magnus must’ve already spoken to Cat to know that.

 Magnus (03.02.18 5:33 PM): If you want to. No pressure.

Magnus (03.02.18 5:33 PM): History 104? If you’ve got questions we can meet up next week and I can help?

 Alec (03.02.18 5:35 PM): I’m thinking about it. You sure?

 Magnus (03.02.18 5:36 PM): Yes, that’s why I offered.

 Alec (03.02.18 5:36 PM): Okay. When’s best for you?

 Alec doesn’t mention that he’s not on campus on Thursday. He’ll take any opportunity to talk to Magnus.

 Magnus (03.02.18 5:37 PM): Monday? I’m free at five.

Magnus (03.02.18 5:37 PM): Or is that too late?

 Alec (03.02.18 5:38 PM): No. It’s perfect.

P16 is here

Now Alec just has to break it to Jace that he’ll have to miss their usual Monday night burger and beer. Jace can still go and ogle Maia. He probably wouldn’t even notice Alec was missing.