#kind of re centered me and gave me time to come back to myself in a big way. i was really lost before

[eonars]

um. tfw your life is about to change massively very very soon and it still doesn't even feel real yet and still feels like somethings gonna pop up and it won't actually happen and also you're scared as fuck that you're too stupid to actually do it and it'll all be for nothing

[lqveharrington]

Dust Storm | W.H.B.

summary: You and Billy get caught up in a dust storm while on a horse ride.

pairing: William H. Bonney x fem!reader

includes: slight angst, fluff, you and billy are engaged, not a lot of warnings 🤷‍♀️ let me know if i missed any !!

a/n: i had this sitting in my drafts for a billion years 😭 my bad bookies

It had been days since that last dust storm blew in and the spirits in the small county of Talihina, Oklahoma were high. However, there was no rain insight. And with no rain, it left many farmers with empty fields, covered in dried-out dirt and sand. It especially hit the Ashford farm and ranch the hardest.

The Ashfords were the wealthiest family in Talihina. They were well known for being able to run a horse ranch and a healthy farm. The father, James Ashford, was in charge of both the ranch and farm, making sure everything ran smoothly. His wife, Josephina Ashford, better known as Jo, was known for helping around the town and giving to those in need. Luckily for the couple, they had two children who helped them with their work. They had a daughter and a son. You were the eldest Ashford child, and you had a bright future. You resemble your mother in all ways. You were the kind of woman to make young men turn their heads just by walking by. Unfortunately for them, you were happily engaged to one William H. Bonney. On the other hand, your younger brother looked like a replica of your father. Adam Ashford was eight years old with the same determination as his father, hoping to take over the farm and ranch when he got older.

But because of the dust storms starting up two years ago, it was harder to tend to the crops that would grow and bring the horses out of their stables. Before, you would help your father to tend to the horses when you weren't doing volunteer work, but with the constant dust blowing around the whole country, he banned you from leaving the house unless it was absolutely clear from dust. And for the first time in two years, James let his daughter out of the house. Only to run her mother’s errands, of course.

“In case of emergencies,” James tied a red bandana around your wrist as you took your mother’s list and woven basket from the kitchen table. “Wrap this around your head and cover your mouth and nose. I don’t want you to get hurt. And remember to come straight back from the markets—”

“Pa, I’ll be fine.” You squeezed her father’s forearm, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He sighed and shook his head, “Okay.”

You squeezed his arm again before leaving, silently reassuring her safety. You took quick strides to the town center and watched the dust kick up with every step you took. The walk going to town wasn’t bad. The only downside was that there was no shelter for any incoming dust storms. Fortunately, the blazing sun was beating down on the earth and the wind was seemingly absent.

Upon reaching the town center you smiled at the sight in front of you. You found children running around with wooden toys their fathers made and their mothers gossiping about the recent family who left for California. It felt normal. For the first time in years, it felt normal to see mothers scolding their children for messing with drunkards sitting outside of the bars.

You shook your head before entering the town’s only grocery, the bell above the door ringing to alert the storekeeper. “Mr. Taylor?”

“Miss Ashford!” The storekeeper beamed at the young woman. “What brings you into town? I haven’t seen you and your folks for a while.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, “With all this dust, I would hardly expect anyone to be hustlin’ ‘round town.”

“What can I do for you?” He dismissed the comment.

“I’m in need of some of your delicious Fuji apples. My ma s'been craving them ever since Adam read a book about them to her.” You looked around the empty store. “Other than that, I can grab the res’ of the things myself.”

“I’ll be right back.” He knocked the wood on the counter, heading toward the back of the store. You watched him leave before heading into the different aisles, glancing at the brands and prices of the different items. In fact, you were so immersed in deciding which brand of vegetable oil would be best that you hadn’t realized someone new had entered the store until a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and spun you off the ground.

“Oh my god!” You clung onto the stranger’s arm, not wanting to fall face-first onto the ground. You glanced back at the stranger before gasping, eyes lighting up at the male. “Billy!”

“Afternoon, gorgeous.” He put you down and kissed your cheek.

You felt your face warm at the name and action, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “What are you doing here?”

“My ma sent me into town to get money from the bank.” Billy followed you around the store, his gaze flickering across your face. “Then I saw my favorite woman walk into town. I decided I could spare some time to talk to her.”

“Uh-huh.” You spun on your heel and peered into his eyes. “Did you get the money for your folks? Or did you forget?”

“You think so low of me, sweetheart.” He tilted your head up with his finger. “Of course I got the money.”

You hummed, giving him a proper look now. William H. Bonney was once a lanky boy in grade school. But he had definitely grown into himself. He got stronger and taller over the course of two years. The loose clothes he once wore now perfectly fit him, making you flush red each time you saw him. Your eyes then traveled from his fit shirt to his tattered, dust-covered boots. You frowned at the state they were in, but no one could do any better from the current weather the states were currently facing. Finally, you shifted your gaze to meet his eyes once more. His crystal blue eyes were such a beautiful contrast to the dust coating his dark jeans and his wavy brown hair. You swore you could get lost in them if it weren’t for him pulling you back to reality each time.

“You’re staring, gorgeous.” Billy grinned, earning a small scoff from his beloved.

“You’re impossible.” You shoved two bars of soap into your basket, heading toward the counter where the apples were waiting.

Mr. Taylor suppressed a laugh at the young couple, taking the basket from your arms. “That all for today, Miss Ashford?”

You hummed as you took your wallet out of your dress pocket, “How much?”

“$3.42 is the total.” He read off the cash register as you handed him the exact amount, trading it for the baskets of groceries and apples.

“Thank you, Mr. Taylor.” You smiled at him and moved to grab Billy’s hand as you left the store, intertwining them. “What’ve you been up to since I’ve last seen you?”

“Since last week?” Billy pulled you closer to him, squeezing your hand. “ Not much has happened since I visited your place. Just helping my ma in the fields like always.”

You nodded and looked toward the ground, watching the dust cling onto your leather boots and the bottom of your maroon dress. “The dust storm affecting your folks’ farm badly?”

“It’s affecting everyone, sweetheart.” He pulled you away from a stampede of running children. “No one can get any crops.”

“I know…” You muttered, rubbing small circles into his palm. You peered up at the bright sun, squinting at the beam. “You know what I wish for?”

“What?”

“I wish for everything to go back to normal.” You adjusted your hat, the Ashford ranch coming into view. “The dust storms have ruined everyone’s crops. I can barely step foot out of my own house. There hasn’t been any rain since god knows when. My pa won’t let me tend to the horses. It’s madness, Billy.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head. “I can’t promise everything will go back to normal, but in the meantime, I can find a way to ride horses with you. ”

“William, what’s that supposed to mean?” You squinted at him, his piercing gaze meeting yours. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably not a good idea—!”

“Come on. We can ride the horses and be back before your folks worry.” He pulled you into the Ashford stables, taking the baskets from your arms and tucking them safely in a corner.

You bit your lip, looking at the groceries and then back at the brunette, cursing him for being so convincing. “Fine.”

Laughter filled the air as you raced Billy through the back trails of Talihina, the generated wind blowing through your hair. It felt like you were both young teenagers who had no idea they were in love with one another, doing reckless activities until they were caught by one’s parents.

“Pick up the pace, Bonney!” You shouted as you saw Billy catching up, urging your horse to move faster.

A huge amount of dust kicked up with every stride the horses took, and if you looked back, you wouldn’t be able to see anything. Billy shook his head with a smile and copied you, finally riding beside the pair.

“Sweetheart, you know I can beat you in any horse race.” He chuckles as he brings his horse to a stop, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “You feel any better?”

You nodded and glanced to your left as you tugged on your horse’s reins, meeting his blue eyes. “I do feel better. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He tipped his hat in your direction. “Ready to go back?”

Your smile slowly faded but nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey, we don’t need to rush. We can take as long as we want to go back if you want.”

“I’d like that.” You guided your horse to head back toward the ranch. “In the meantime, you can tell me all about what you’re gonna do when your ma finds out where you’ve been all day.”

“I can tell her I’ve been with my girl all day.” He bit back a smirk when he saw your cheeks tint pink. “I think my folks love you more than me.”

You shoved his shoulder, your engagement ring glistening in the sun. “They should love me more than you. I think my Pa loves you more than me.”

“Impossible.” Billy took your hand and kissed the back of it.

The young couple took short strides on their horses as the sun slowly faded away. One could argue that the sun was setting, but it was still much too early for the sun to set.

“What time do you have on your watch?” You looked back at the darkening sky, picking up the pace.

“3 PM,” Billy muttered, looking into your panicked eyes. “We gotta go.”

The both of you started to rush your horses back as the wind picked up, dust blowing around them which impaired your vision. You hastily removed the bandana from your wrist and tied it around your head, keeping your balance. Billy kept one hand on the reins and shoved his own bandana up, covering his nose and mouth. The sky was now covered with dust clouds and the wind blew harshly against your backs, the mix of dry dirt and sand hitting their exposed skin.

“Are you okay over there?” Billy shouted over the blowing wind. “Y/N?”

“I’m fine!” You blinked away tears from the dirt that stung your eyes, squeezing your legs to make your horse move faster. You could just barely make out your family’s farm, but with each passing second it became more and more obscure.

“Sweetheart, we have to go to the stables! It’s closer to us than your house!” He veered his horse over to the left.

“I can’t! My folks will worry and—”

“Y/N!” He snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Please!”

You quickly followed him and turned toward the stables. Billy slammed the front doors open, causing chaos to erupt inside. The other horses stood on their hind legs, thrashing as the harsh wind blew the dust inside. You raced inside as Billy jumped off his horse and slammed the stable doors shut, grabbing bales of wheat and shoving them by the front. You took deep breaths as you tried calming your own horse, resting your forehead against the head of your horse.

“This dust storm ain’t gonna go away anytime soon.” Billy rubbed dust off his face, removing his mask. “We’ll be fine in here.”

You nodded weakly, combing your fingers through your horse’s dusty hair. “We shouldn’t have gone out— I-I promised my pa that I’d be back—”

“Hey, look at me.” He went over and took your fidgeting hand. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. When the storm eventually calms down, we'll head over to your place.” He slowly helped you off the horse and held your dirtied face in his hands, slipping your bandana off and wiping your muddy tears. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You took a breath, holding onto his wrists, following his breathing pattern. You rested your forehead on his, shutting your eyes. “Okay.”

The dust storm only accumulated as time progressed. The field and crops were covered in piles of dust once more and the automobiles were suddenly buried underneath the dried dirt. Those who were inside any buildings had dust seeping through the smallest slivers, despite the taped downed windows and towels blocking the doors. It was as if the storm would never stop, deeply worrying the Ashford family for their daughter’s safety.

“James, you can’t leave!” Jo whispered toward her husband, arms crossed over her chest in disbelief. “It’s late and you wouldn’t be able to see anything with all of that dust blowin’. Adam worries for his sister, but imagine the grief if he lost his pa and his sister?”

“I can’t sleep without knowin’ if my little girl is fine, Jo,” James argued, tightly tying a handkerchief around his head. “If Adam wakes, don’t tell him where his pa went—”

“James!” She held his arm in desperation, holding eye contact. “The storm might end soon, don’t risk it.” She looked between his eyes as he glanced toward the backdoor. “Please.”

His gaze softened at his wife’s demeanor and pulled her into a hug. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.” She murmured, wrapping her arms around him. “When the storm dies down, you can go. I won’t stop you then… I worry about our little girl too.”

The storm kept blowing until early morning. The crops were now either torn out of the ground or buried deep within dry dirt and families had given up on keeping the dust out of their homes. James and Josephina Ashford fell asleep at their kitchen table waiting for the storm to pipe down while you fell asleep in the stables in the security of your lover’s arms. William H. Bonney, on the other hand, stayed awake. He was constantly listening for the winds to quiet to let you know you could head home. In the early hours of the new day, Billy gently shook the woman beside him awake.

“Sweetheart, wake up.” He brushed the dust off that had fallen on you overnight, watching you shift closer to him. “Gorgeous.”

“Give me a minute, William.” You groaned, using his government name as a threat.

He chuckled and sat up straight, bringing you along with him. “The storm stopped, you can go home now.”

Your eyes shot open and you looked over at the male incredulously. “You should’ve said that first, idiot. Let’s go.”

Billy smiled as he stood, helping you up. He shook the final bits of dust off as best as he could and moved the hay bales away from the doors. Billy tilted his head toward you, silently signaling you to head home. You grinned and picked up your dress, racing over to the house without stumbling. You burst into the house and discarded the dust entering as well, finding your parents standing by the kitchen’s backdoor. James had his handkerchief tied across his face, triggering your tears.

“Y/N.” Her father let out a breath of relief and engulfed you in a tight hug. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed into your father’s shirt, clinging onto him. “I’m so sorry, pa.”

“Why are you crying, sweet girl?” He rubbed your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t go straight home. I wanted to be out more, so I-I rode on the horses with Billy an-and then the storm started up. I shouldn’t have gone. I should’ve gone home right away. I should’ve stayed home. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, you’re alright.” James sat you down in one of the wooden chairs, removing his handkerchief from his face. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

You sniffled, looking up at your mother who had tears in her eyes too. “I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t wanna worry you…”

“My baby,” She knelt on the ground, taking your hands in her own. “I’m just glad you’re safe. The worst didn’t happen. You’re here. You aren’t hurt.”

Billy knocked on the side of the wall, making his presence known. In return, all heads whipped over to him. “I brought the groceries your daughter bought the other day.”

“William, come over here.” Your father beckoned him over.

“Yes, sir?” Billy stood by your side, removing his hat.

James sighed, putting his hand out. “Thank you for watching over my daughter.”

“Anytime.” Billy shook his hand, bringing him in for a hug. “I would risk my life for your daughter every single time.”

You lightly sock his arm at the mention, lacing your hands together. “Thank you.”

“I mean, now that you’re here, why don’t you help clear the dust out of our house? I’m sure my daughter has brought in heaps of it from runnin’ in here.” Jo patted her future son-in-law’s shoulder.

You flushed red as Billy chuckled, feeling him squeeze your hand at the comment. “Of course, Mrs. Ashford.”

The young couple got to work clearing out the dust while Jo and James started preparing breakfast for the day. It would be a while until all the dust would clear out of the house completely, but it wasn’t the worst problem they had. The dust storm that day might have ended, but little did the Ashford family know that it would only be the true beginning of their hardships.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[this-ag-doll-is-a-butch]

Clara Montoya: Autistic???

I've been getting back into AG for almost a year now. Josefina has always, always been my fave, since we were both nine years old.

I've been thinking about how I want her to have a counterpart in her time and location to actually interact with in period-appropriate ways. She never received a Best Friend doll, though :(

But really, her whole story is centered around her family anyway, and I've seen people talk about how 2005 GOTY Marisol Luna has been used to create Clara dolls. And yep, the resemblance is real.

So I have plans to get a Marisol and make her Clara. Although they may take a some months to come to fruition, considering all my other doll and fandom and plushie collection goals and IRL expenses 😔

But it's free to think about Clara's character and plan for what I want her collection to encompas.

The thing that strikes me most, looking at her now with the adult knowledge of being autistic myself- she REALLY seems like a character that one can headcanon as autistic with ease.

She's logical and practical and literal to a fault. She hates change and getting dirty and wants to keep everything organized. Sewing and embroidery are her special interests! She bonds with Tía Dolores through those interests! She clashes hard with Francisca, who just does not want to make the effort to understand her.

She has strong attachment to objects, to the extent that it becomes a huge part of the plot in "Josefina's Surprise." (The altar cloth, Niña.)

Niña is her comfort object, for fuck's sake!!!!! She manages to relinquish primary custody of Niña to Josefina, but ONLY after Tía Dolores managed to give her a new comfort object (Mamá's silver thimble.)

I mean, I think I need to closely reread all Josefina's series and acquire all short stories and the mysteries. What else is going on with dear Clara and her autism? Does she have sensory issues???

It goes without saying that Clara was never deliberately written as autistic, and of course in 1824 New Mexico, a word didn't exist for autism. But we autistics have always existed.

In terms of a potential collection- obviously Josefina's nightgown straight-up seems to be Clara's camisa and IDK how to feel about that. How can Josefina not have her nightgown??? 😭

One potential solution I've been thinking about is a similar nightgown for her but with a different neck ribbon. I can't sew, but it seems Etsy seller Magnoliawillows makes a similar nightgown with a blue ribbon which could be Josefina's new nightgown.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1325115163/josefina-montoya-style-night-shift

Also, I know her BeForever nightgown exists too. But I'm not as emotionally bonded to it, since it came after "my time" lmao. Maybe it would be nice if Clara and Josefina had summer and winter nightgowns 🤔

And I could get Josefina's BeForever bed for Clara! That's another reason why I want a Clara- to have a way to use more of Josefina's collection as I acquire it, especially the BeForever items.

And if AG could just get off their asses and GIVE JOSEFINA LITERALLY ANY COLLECTION AT ALL AGAIN, it would be great to buy whatever is (re-)released new and use it mostly for Clara, because that way I could have the beloved Pleasant Company versions of my memory yet also support Josefina's collection today.

Meet Accessories/Outfit ideas- Josefina's PC red-ribbon nightgown as camisa, different rebozo, moccasins, extra pair of Josefina bloomers, indigo skirt (although it would be interesting to try and see if someone sells/would make a skirt closer to book illustrations... however, 1820s New Mexican sisters, even in a well-to-do family like Josefina's, definitely shared clothes. So it would make sense from that perspective).

She'd need a doll-size pair of scissors, which Tía Dolores gave her, of course. And I'd want her to have some kind of necklace, because all AG historicals did/do. I'd need to know more about necklaces from then, though... perhaps some kind of mílagro, or Saint Clara symbol/medal? I'd want her to have a little sewing & embroidery kit to hang on her belt, too.

One thing that would take a lot more work, yet would make an amazing story, would be to somehow find another little doll's-doll like Niña. I have a whole story idea where some kind of secret room somehow gets found (maybe at Abuelito and Abuelita's house in Santa Fe) and a long-forgotten doll from Mamá and Tía Dolores' childhood gets given to Clara 🥺

Another idea would be to assemble stuff to create a little shrine for Clara and Josefina to pray at (yes I got the idea from the Mini World image). Especially because it would have Mamá's colcha-embroidered altar cloth! And just in general, part of why I connected with Josefina so much growing up was that her family is Catholic, just like mine.

These days, obviously, I'm a grown up monbinary gay ex-TradCath (similar to ExVangelical) with religious trauma, but maybe making a doll Catholic shrine would be a way to deal with that in a more healthy manner...

Anyway I would love to talk about Clara and Josefina!!!! Josefina-lovers please interact!!!!

[meowcats734]

(prompt response) A panicked scream of "Is anybody here a doctor?" You tentatively raise your hand. "I'm a Necromancer, if you're willing to wait a few minutes."

Unsurprisingly, the closer we got to the center of the battlefield, the more deaths there were. Lucet floated the idea of retreating to the edge of the hailstorm to camp out, but even though Sansen couldn't see that far into the future without setting up his ring of hope-inducing memorabilia, it was pretty clear that any remaining soul fragments would drift away if we spent days on end backtracking and re-entering the storm. And I wasn't going to let any information on Jiaola's whereabouts fade away if I could help it.

So at my insistence, we camped out in ramshackle tents that were battered by hail, trying our best to sleep despite the eternal thunk-thunk-thunk of falling ice.

I attuned regret later that night. I supposed my companions weren't too happy about my choice.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I heard rustling outside my tent. I hadn't been sleeping, exactly—the endless clamor of hail made it hard—so it was a matter of heartbeats to sit up and look into soulspace. Lucet's soul shone on the other side of the tent flap. I got up, put on my shirt and binder, and called out.

"I'm awake, Lucet," I said. "You can come in."

"Eep! Er, sorry." Lucet scurried into the tent, shucking off her winter coat, and gave me a confused look. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I recognized your soul," I said.

"I... I can't do that," Lucet admitted.

"Yeah, well, people's sorrow might look the same by coincidence," I said. "But when you can see someone's levels of calm, sorrow, passion, insecurity, joy, fear, spite, guilt, shame, disgust, regret, and self-hatred, it'd take one hell of a coincidence for all twelve of those emotions to look similar between two different souls."

Lucet fell quiet for a moment.

"You made another attunement," she said.

I winced. "I... yeah. I did."

"Okay." She didn't pry, which almost made it worse. Instead, she just wordlessly scooted towards me; I leaned on her shoulder and closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up," she finally said. "I just... I couldn't sleep."

"You can't sleep because I fucking convinced you all to camp out beneath what I dearly hope is the largest rift in the world. Don't blame yourself."

"I'm not blaming myself," she whispered. "I just... don't want to be useless."

Rifts, I felt that. Because I was useless. I was worse than useless. I shivered and snuggled closer to Lucet, and there must have only been room for one or the other, because the voices seemed to shy away when she was around. "I..." I bit my lip, liquid metal roiling in my soul, then went for it. "If you... I've been having a hard time sleeping too. If you wanted to stay over for the night..."

Lucet smiled. "Yeah. I... I think I'd like that. Scoot over?"

I laid down on my side, facing Lucet, and she slipped beneath the blanket, putting one arm around my back and pulling me closer.

"Cozy," she murmured sleepily, and I nodded into her neck.

"M-hm," I said, and closed my eyes.

Our souls glittered together in the dark behind my eyes, and the clattering hail faded into the void of sleep.

###

Nobody said anything when Lucet and I came out of the same tent the next day, but I saw the dewdrops of joy and sparks of hope in Sansen's soul as he saw us smiling at each other. For some reason, passion was incredibly inefficient to use while we were under the rift, so we were stuck with mundane jackets and body heat. Thankfully, it wasn't like the conditions under the rift were that much worse than in the Silent Peaks, and the supplies we already had sufficed well enough.

I was prepared to spend another day hunting for soul fragments, but as Sansen led us deeper into the battlefield, he paused.

"Hey," he said. "There's, uh... there's an opportunity in a nearby future."

"What kind of opportunity?" Meloai asked.

"I... I really don't know what to make of this, but... there's a... settlement? No, a shelter of some kind around here. With... what looks like some soldiers who got left behind."

I rubbed my chin. "If we're trying to get information on Jiaola... interviewing living soldiers is about as good as we can hope for."

"Especially if they're stuck here," Meloai said. "I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I'd run away from the giant death-rift in the sky if I could. The fact that they're still here probably means they can't leave. Maybe... maybe we could help them, and get information in return?"

"Or, y'know, help them out because they're probably going to starve to death if they're stuck here," Lucet added.

"...Right, that too," I said. "Either way, we should check it out."

Sansen nodded. "Then we're going this way." There weren't really any landmarks in the never-ending hailstorm, so the only idea I had of where we were going was 'left,' but Sansen seemed to know where we were going. Before long, he paused, frowning, then said, "Follow me."

Then he took off in a dead sprint.

The three of us didn't hesitate—following the old oracle's directions had gotten us all saved more than once, and we'd be utterly fucked without him. It wasn't long before the future Sansen foresaw caught up to us: in the distance, I heard someone screaming for help. Something about... a medical emergency? Needing a healer?

Well. Grimly, I readied myself. None of us had attuned forgiveness, but... I had something else I could try.

I got an impression of a log cabin in the hailstorm before Sansen threw the door open, startling the collection of people inside. Before anyone else could speak, though, Sansen said, "You called?"

The group of soldiers—and they were definitely soldiers, clad in the uniform of the Silent Peaks—stared at us, baffled. They'd formed a loose semicircle around two men, one standing over the other, who was bleeding out on the floor. The one standing regained his composure first.

"Yes. I—I don't know who you are, but if any of you are a healer—"

"We're not," I brusquely said, "but... I might be able to do something after death."

There was a moment of shocked silence as everyone in the room except Sansen turned towards me.

Then the man broke the silence. "My husband died fighting necromancers!" The man screamed at me. "And you expect  me to let some junior necromancer defile his soul?"

"Your husband died fighting necromancers?" I asked.

The man nodded fiercely, standing over the gasping, bleeding body of his husband.

"Out of curiosity, who does he have to thank for coming back to life from the dead? Any school of magic in particular that could take credit for resurrections?"

He blushed furiously. I got the feeling he wasn't used to people applying silly little conventions like 'logic' and 'internal consistency' to his tirades. "That's irrelevant! I can see the greed in your eyes. You just want to steal Mertri's soul. But I won't let you!"

"Literally every single word you just said is incorrect. Look, how about this." I raised my hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. The man—Mertri's husband, I suppose—stood opposite me in the large wooden dining hall. Behind me, three of my friends watched Mertri's husband nervously; a handful of people I assumed were simply bystanders stood opposite us, forming a complete ring of bodies, locking Mertri's husband and I in with each other. I raised my voice to be heard over the thakka-thakka-thakka of hail on the wooden roof. "Ask around. See if literally anyone else has any relevant medical expertise. Let them have their go first. And then if they fail... let me help."

"I already asked, you idiot. You think I'd be talking to a necromancer instead of staking him through the heart if I had any better options?"

"You're thinking of vampires, not necromancers. And you've admitted it yourself—you don't have any better options." I grimaced. "I don't, either. I wish I was a normal healer. But... salvaging what's left afterwards is the best I can do."

The man started to speak, but Mertri coughed wetly from the floor. I wasn't entirely sure what the nature of his injury was, but judging by the blood on his chest, it... wasn't pretty. "Vuliel," Mertri managed.

"I'm here, love." Vuliel knelt by his husband's side, and I could see the raw anger and sorrow in his soul. "I'm listening."

"Let... the boy... try." Mertri managed a weak smile.

Vuliel jerked back, shocked. "But—if he—you could become a monster. Why would you..."

Mertri focused on his husband. "Because," he whispered. "I'll take any chance to see you again."

And before my very eyes, Mertri's soul began to fracture as the bleeding man died.

"It's now or never," I said.

Vuliel closed his eyes.

Then he stood, expression inscrutable. "Do your worst."

And I knelt by the dying man's side as his soul began to shake apart.

Necromancy was a vast and complex field, and different people had different approaches to it. I had absorbed fragments of souls on broken battlefields, trying to piece together narratives from dying memories; I had stitched together the souls of animals to form ghosts and demons of terrible light; I had even reached between planes to chase departed souls as they tried to move on from this world.

But here and now, I could prevent having to take any of those measures before they even happened. I could hold the dying man's soul together before it shattered into uncountable memories. All I had to do was draw upon the core of necromancy:

Regret.

All necromancy was, fundamentally, an act of regret. A wish that the dead never died. And I was no exception.

In order to call up necromancy, I simply had to remember the day I'd decided to fight back against death.

I closed my eyes, remembering another place, another time. A girl named Astrenn who had loved to feed crows.

My helplessness as I arrived at her cold, long-dead body, her head caved in by a falling roof beam.

The regret that had flooded my soul ever since.

The wellspring of power came sludgily at first—then as I let my regrets sing through me, it flooded from my core and down my hands and into the dying man's cracking soul. The magic was thick and swampy and fetid, but it was mine, and I hardly had to lift a finger as my regrets did what they did best.

They tried to hold together a broken heart.

And, miracle of miracles, they did.

Only those with soulsight could see what happened next, and from what I could tell, Vuliel was not one of them. But a bitter, forlorn pride swelled in my heart as the man's soul drifted free of his body, stabilized, anchored in this world.

"What... what did you do?" Vuliel whispered.

"I kept his soul from breaking," I said. "I... I'm not powerful enough to reunite it with a dead body. But... he could still live on if his possessed someone else. Someone who cared about him an awful lot. Someone who'd be willing to share their body with a man who lost his own." I gestured towards the invisible soul. "All you have to do is let him in."

Vuliel looked down at his husband's corpse.

"It's not what I wanted," he managed to say.

For a heartbeat, the only sound in the wooden hall was the crash of hail on the roof.

"But it's the best I have," he finished. He looked up, meeting my eyes, and said, "I'm ready. Tell me what to do."

I shook my head. "There's nothing simpler. Just reach out and touch his soul."

Vuliel swallowed, then stretched out a hand.

And in a flash of memories absorbed, two souls became one.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[im-just-a-boy-guys]

R@PE FANTASY/CNC/KIDNAPPING/FEM READER/ROUGH CNC.

I love stuff that's written or acted out in person. That's just some sick daydream you have, and your partner agrees to act it out with you.

Meeting somewhere in public once as husband and wife but now as strangers.

You see me in a cafe and follows me around for most of the day, keeping track of who I'm with, my movements as you always do.

I'm just shopping by myself at a market and he follows me there. I don't have a car because I take public transport so I don't stand a chance of being found when you kidnap me

You approach me as I leave the store. "Hey, I've kind of seen you around today. Do you need help with your grocery bags? Looks like a lot to carry."

I smile and think nothing of it and consider your offer. "I think I've got it.",

As I say that one of the bag handles on the cheap plastic bags snaps, and a few of my things fall onto the floor.

I sigh and look down at the fallen things. You laugh at me in amusement and help me pick them up. "Come one. I'll give you a ride home. Besides, I see some cold tuff like milk that might spoil in this hot sun."

It was pretty hot, and I was starting to sweat through my shirt. You led me to your car and pulled out of the shopping center parking lot.

I gave you the address to head to and noticed a few wrong turns, then you pressed a button near your side or the car and all of the doors to the car locked.

I began to panic freezing up. "I don't- think this is the way to my place. We were supposed to turn a mile back-"

You interrupt me. "I'm not taking you to your place."

My heart sinks, I can't escape the car, my best bet would be to run for it whenever we got where we were going, but there was no promise that I would make it out alive if you had a concieled weapon. But I'd have to try.

The rest of the ride was painfully quiet and you'd look over form me time to time, seemingly admiring your new victim. How many came before me? Im not sure.

What I didn't know was that I was your first and only victim, your favorite. You'd been stalking me for a few months and I was a prize to be won.

We pulled into the driveway of a relatively nice-looking house. Which id have assumed to be shabby and scary looking, but it was a normal house. You walked around and opened the door for me, and I stepped out.

Before you could reach for me I tried desperately to make a run for it, now in seemingly the middle of nowhere. I hear a mumbled-

"Shit! Get back here."

, as I began to sprint. I heard a small sound and then my body was hut with a slight pinching sensation followed by a writhing pain that seemed to erupt from my very nervous system.

I could hear the electrical hum and buzz of the tazer you'd fired at me as I fell to the ground, writhing in pain as it stopped sending the current. Your muscles proceeded to spasm for a moment after and you came over and picked me up by my hair, dragging me to my feet.

You made me walk into the house and threw me down on the couch, I rolled off and curled up behind it just out of your sight. Though you still obviously knew where I was. I shook softly with fear as you re-entered the house.

You walked up to the couch and grabbed me again, leading me up to your bedroom and threw me in, locking the door.

"Stay here, pet."

I heard the click and tried everything. I searched desperately for open windows and anywhere I could hide away from you.

I managed to wriggle under the bed, though obvious, it felt safe until you returned, a roap and duck tape in my our hands. I have to cover my mouth to keep from whimpering at the sight. I try to force my breathing to be quiet as you stalk around the room. "Where are you, Doll? I just wanna play some dress up okay? I'll take such good care of you-"

You checked everywhere in the room, the bathroom attached, and then you stopped before the bed. My heart sank to the deepest pit of my stomach. I saw some movement and heard the sound of duct tape ripping, my whole body seemed to quake and I tried to shrink back against the wall, unabllle to move far enough away from the edges. You leaned down and grabbed hold of my arm-

"There you are little bunny! thought you could hide from me?"

I winced and cried out as I was pulled out from the bed and tossed on top of it. Within seconds, your body weight was on mine, holding me down as you pushed ducktape against my mouth with one hand, the other restraining my wrists.

"Just stay still sweetheart. It'll be alright- Just stay still for me- stop struggling-"

I cried out and flailed and kicked around, trying to get out from under you as you tied my wrists together with the rope, it felt rough against my skin and you tied it tightly, enough to leave a bruise later. You hung the rope of my wrists on the hook I hadn't seen above your bed. I proceeded to try to flail and kick to the best of my ability till you tied my legs open to the bedposts.

You pulled a knife from your pocket and ran it up the sides of my jeans, up my legs to my hips, then over my stomach and chest. With one strong swoop, you held onto my shirt and sliced it open, exposing my sports bra. You worked your way down and sliced into the fabric of my jeans, with a few slices this time, finally managing to get them off.

the knife then ran up gently over my bare legs, slowing down at my hips as you teased the blade closer and closer to my clit. You gently ran the blade tip over my slit between the lips and I found myself heavily aroused though against my own will. It was such a light teasing feeling that caused my panties to dampen. The blast then ran up my stomach to my chest, cutting my bra off roughly and my breasts hung freely.

You examined the small but still growing wet spot on my panties and laughed mockingly, tickling my pussy with your blade some more.

"Yeah, Bunny? Do you like how my blade feels? Dont worry, I'll be making good use of it."

you smiled a menacing grin that told me you had been patiently and hungrily waiting for just this moment. Hunter finally meets prey. You pushed the knife softly against my pussy, just over the entrance, and I found myself carefully bucking my hips at the sensation, afraid of the possible cut but needing the feeling of something against me.

"That's it. It's like instinct, huh?"

I nod and keep quiet, the only noise coming from me is a faint gasp every time I almost knick (cut) myself on the blade. you let me grind for a moment before cutting my panties off to reveal my dripping cunt. You strip in front of me, got you're so handsome. I hadn't noticed before, and your cock was throbbing as soon as you freed your length from your jeans.

"Fuck, you're soaked-"

You groaned softly and climbed onto the need, blade in hand as you lined yourself up with my hole- "No-wait- please do-", This is muffled by the tape but I am interrupted as your length fills me roughly, the knife blade being pushed to my throat. this quick action caused my ussy to throb around your aching cock, massaging you for extra pleasure.

you thrust deeply and roughly into me, lost in the sensation of my wet walls, gripping at you tightly. you adjust yourself upright and toss the knife to the side as you take my neck in one of your hands, the other bracing under my shoulder to use me as your leverage, thrusting harder now that you can pull me onto you.

I start to lose oxygen and my vision goes black for a moment. I try to pull myself to consciousness but I can feel you using that to your advantage, loosening your grip until I clearly come to then squeezing again. It was like you were edging me. My limbs grew numb and tired from holding me.

you grabbed my throat roughly, squeezing till what felt like near death as you filled me with your hot cum, I squirted roughly against you, my orgasm causing my vision to go further black than the lack of oxygen did.

"Fuck, you're so good. I think I'm going to keep you-", You giggle softly as he lets go of your throat and you come to. After fantasy: You kiss my cheeks and untie me, kissing the tape over my mouth, then trailing those kisses down my stomach and this as you untie my legs. "You did so good for me baby, I'm so proud. did you have fun?" You nod, though smile because he seems to have forgotten the tape. Once you're untied he chuckles.

"Oh, right haha.", He gently removed the tape and brought you into his arms, holding you tightly. "I had so much fun thank you."

"Never a problem. I also put the groceries away earlier when you were locked in here, I didn't want the milk to go bad." "That's wonderful thank you baby."

[vampirelova92]

Stuck N The Middle: Honesty 1.2

April•

Dana

Once settled inside the exotic car, it was quiet in the night. The new clean car smell invaded my nostrils as I watched this too good to be true man from inside it. Calen walked around the front getting in the drivers side. After closing his door he pulled out his keys and looked down in between us seeing I had my arm laying on the center compartment. His brown eyes looked up at me as he smirked with his lips.

"Can you move your arm, I need to get sum out of there." He requested respectfully closing his eyes to a squint. Feeling myself blush, I quickly placed my arm in my lap as Calen opened up the center. With his head faced down I could see he had growing in curls on top of his head. He definitely was related to Cooper and Cari, but with a different edge even though he was kind. After a few more seconds of rummaging through the compartment, he closed it and put something white and had the length of a cigarette in between his pink lips. Then he pushed a button behind the right side of the steering wheel, making the Porsche purr to life. A screen over the radio and underneath the dashboard lit up as he put the car in drive and pulled off.

"What's your address so I can put it in the GPS?" He mumbled with what I assumed a spliff between his lips. Of course he smoked weed why wouldn't he. His little high tech car didn't impress me though, I've been around it before. Erin wasn't just amazing and made me fall in love with her because she was a beautiful girlfriend inside and out to me. She also came from a wealthy family, and had at least four different European cars under her belt. Being in the car with Calen, made me feel like I was with her. To be honest it was the first time since coming in contact with him.

"I don't need to, you're going the right way for now," I muttered over at him, "I don't mind being your GPS."

Calen did a low chuckle lighting the weed between his lips, "Fine by me, ma."

"Take a left at the next right, pop." I mocked him looking out my window ready to get out this car. Stopping at a red light I heard him clear his throat exaggerating it, making me look over at him. Holding a squint in his eyes he sized me.

"You mocking me or sum shit?" He asked with a raised eyebrow cooly blowing smoke from his nose.

"What if I am?" I challenged as he continued to stare at me, the green light glowing on his face he pushed on the gas still looking at me. A stare contest began as he continued to speed through the 2am night, never unlocking his brown orbs from mine. Turning the wheel he made the left holding our gaze, stopping at another red light. I couldn't help but laugh at how serious he looked at me still, shaking his head he looked straight ahead. Taking another pull from his blunt he put out the spliff, he put it behind his ear.

"I don't understand your ass, where to next lil princess?" He asked in a low growl letting smoke leave his lips gently, it was almost too sexy. Why do I think that's sexy? I need to get away from him.

"What are you trying to understand? And you don't have to go any further we are here." I told him taking off my seatbelt, I pointed my right thumb to the apartment complex on the right. Calen overlooked the buildings and put his eyes back on me with a smug look.

"I'm surprised you don't know all the ways to get to the apartment." I eyed him.

"I do, why you think I can drive without lookin? Just didn't know u lived with Cari." He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip quickly, "You're distracting."

"I don't know how, not even doing nothing." I sighed.

"Why you kiss me and then act like this." He asked me putting the car in park looking over at me. Taking a deep sigh I decided since he gave me a ride home, I should give him his answer.

"My ex, was at the club tonight and I wanted to make her jealous so I used the next best thing to me to do it." I admitted looking into his brown eyes. Blinking a few times at me, Calen laid his head back on his seat head rest.

"Oh." Was all he said looking up at the roof of his car, "So you're gay."

"Yeah." I nodded as he looked back over at me, he slowly unbuttoned one button at the top of his shirt showing his chest. It was graced with tattoos on it telling me my assumptions earlier at the club were true. Besides this car, Calen was nothing like Erin and that was dangerous.

"Well, should've been told me that, I feel so used for my body now." He played like his feelings was hurt looking over at me cracking a crooked smile. Rolling my eyes at him I shook my head looking away. 

"Yeah, well thanks for the ride Calen it was nice meeting you." I spoke opening up my door, but Calens strong arm reached over my body. His tricep grazing the edge of my areolas through my dress gently, he closed the door back. I blushed looking over at him and his innocent face. He's going to kill me for using him.

He licked over his pink lips before saying, "You may not be interested in me, but Imma still be a gentleman, don't touch my damn door."

Baffled by his words I just stared at him as he winked taking off his blazer, throwing it in his backseat. Opening his car door he stepped out giving me a chance to see the sleeves of tattoos on his arms. It was like he was a walking masterpiece or something, I wished Cari would have told me something about her older brother. Walking around the car after he closed his door back he opened mine, reaching his hand out for me to take it. Standing up out the car with his help he closed the door back, placing his hands in his front pockets looking down at me. He really was taller than me now that I realized it.

"Thanks again, for the ride." I breathed holding my clutch in hand. He made me nervous and I hated it. Only Erin ever made me this close to nervous and Calen was pushing it past that.

"And for the usage of my lips this evening of course." He smirked at me, turning his head to the side.

"Right." I blushed beginning to walk towards my apartment door, going up the usual three steps. Calen stayed by his car but I knew he was watching me. I turned around to give one last look and I was right. He stood leaning against his car just staring at me, that sparkle at me in his eyes.

"Was that your first time kissing a guy?" He asked not having to yell out since it was so quiet on the street, I looked at my phone to use the light so I could get my key in the lock. It was almost three in the morning. Plus Cari and I forgot to keep the porch light on. Turning back towards him I laughed seeing him as he waited patiently for my answer.

"Yes, it was now go away." I told him opening my door. He smirked sparking his blunt again beginning to walk around his car to the driver side.

"It won't be your last." He said making my heart stop as I entered in my apartment closing the door behind me. What a night.

***

The next morning while rolling over in my sheets, I felt another body next to me. I looked over to see Cari knocked out in my bed. I pulled out my phone under my pillow to see it was twelve in the afternoon. She did this all the time when she went over Bryson's house. If you asked me they had a weird relationship. Once they were finished probably fooling around at night, early in the morning he would drop her off back home, and then she would snuggle me. I never thought of going there with Cari in that way, but if she didn't have Bryson couldn't blame me for wondering about a what if. They say it had something to do with the fact that Cooper didn't want to see his sister the next morning knowing what they had done, so since Bryson was not paying half n half on their condo, his say goes. To me it was all so stupid, but hey I had my own stupid moments with people I couldn't take back so I couldn't judge. Starting off with what happened last night with Calen. That damn liquor courage really got the best of me. Shaking my head at myself I slipped out of Cari's grasp going into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Staring at myself in the mirror of a small t shirt and short boy shorts, I wondered what Calen meant when he said that wouldn't be my last time kissing a guy. He was pretty confident I had to admit, but that dick between his legs was the main reason on why he probably would never get me to like guys. Arrogant cockiness bugged the shit out of me, and he had plenty of it. All I could say was good luck to him. Like that would help. Placing my wash cloth back on the bathroom towel rack, I exited seeing Cari sitting up in bed plucking her sleepy eyes from her phone to on me.

"Good day." She muttered looking me up and down.

"Hey." I replied going to my dresser to find some clothes for today. I decided to take a shower after going downstairs to find something to eat, I was starving. 

"You want to tell me now wassup with you and my brother?" She asked meekly, I did a low huff.

"Nothing is going on Carr." I mumbled looking through my dresser drawer for my black graphic tee I wanted to wear today, "You've known me for the past two years, I'm gay remember and your brother is a DUDE!"

"Bullshit, something is and I want you to spill. Now." She demanded at me, I turned around once finding my shirt mugging her smile.

"I'll make breakfast." She spoke all sing songy. If it was one thing I loved about Cari being my roommate it was her cooking, not having the blessing of having my moms home cooked meals since she lived all the way in New York, Cari was as close as I could possibly get.

"Fine, go start cooking I'll take my shower then we can talk." I shook my head going back to the bathroom.

"Alright!" She perked up, I could hear her making her way out my room to go clean up. I'll never hear the end of this. Fuck. After scrubbing and showering for a good ten minutes, I got out drying off and then putting on my skin moisturizer all over my body and deodorant. Spraying my bath and body works spray once on my neck and two times on my chest I got dressed. Keeping my hair in a bun after putting my earrings on I made my way downstairs. As I got closer to the kitchen all I could smell was breakfast food, my stomach began to do numerous flips. Floating to one of the stools at the island in the kitchen I sat and anxiously waited for my plate food. Cari turned around with a dark smile making me roll my eyes at her, knowing she was finally going to know what went down last night. Making my plate she placed it in front of me with a fork in the other hand. I reached for it, but she snatched it back as I picked up a piece of hash brown placing it past my lips. Picking up my cranberry juice I swallowed and took a deep breath.

"When I walked to go sit at the bar from being upset, a guy that I didn't know then was your brother came and sat next to me." I started, making Cari give me my fork. I placed some fried eggs and a piece of pancake in my mouth after soaking it with syrup.

"Okay and..?" Cari drilled growing impatient as I began to dig into my food.

"Somehow, Erin made her way to the fuckin' bar area and was in my sights again, since Calen was sitting next to me and looked interested in me I kissed him in front of Erin." I told her.

"Bitch, whaaaaaaat!?" Cari exclaimed making me look up as I bit into a rogerwood sausage.

"I didn't know he was your brother at the time Cari, and it was just to make-"

"No, no I understand that Dana, it's just out of all the guys in the building you had to pick Calen?" She asked sounding worried.

"See I knew you were going to trip out over this, I don't want your brother. Promise." I said straight up looking sincerely into her grey eyes matching Cooper's, but not Calen's since his was brown. But I could still see the familiarity it was weird with Cari's having more feminine features to them now that I noticed. Such a gene pool.

"Dae, that's what I'm trying to tell you, that's where you're making an error." She told me coming to sit down next to me.

I drank some more juice looking over at her, "What you mean?"

"Did he say anything at all to you when he dropped you off last night?" She asked.

"He asked me if he was the first guy I ever kissed and I told him yeah," Cari watched me cautiously, "Then he said it wouldn't be my last." I shrugged. Shaking my head at his cocky ass.

"Yeah, that definitely sounds like Calen." She scoffed looking away, "Listen to me Dana, Calen gets what he wants when it comes to women, you shouldn't have kissed him."

"Pshhh, Cari please, I already told him I'm not interested if he has a hard time getting it through his big light bright head I won't have a problem with reminding him." I scoffed.

And I mean that shit.

~~

Thanks For Reading!😍

[whennnow]

Regency Ribbon Bodices

July 8, 2021

[Image ID: a neck-to-hip photo of Alex wearing a blue ribbon bodice that ties in a bow at the front over a white Regency dress.]

I found an on Pinterest ages ago and fell in love with the idea of an over-bodice made of ribbons. Eventually (read: accidentally) I discovered its source - the July 1808 edition of "Journal des Luxus und der Moden".

Now, admittedly, my white Regency dress is a few years earlier than 1808 (it's more 1800-1803-ish?) and the bodice as-pictured wouldn't suit the cut of my dress, but if I'm making it I can redesign it to suit my needs!

The Blue Ribbon Bodice

For my first ribbon bodice, I used 2" wide poly satin ribbon in a lovely shade of blue. To better suit my dress, I changed the shoulder straps to angle in and come to a point in the back, which imitated the narrow back of my dress bodice.

To start constructing it, I cut a piece of ribbon long enough to tie around the waist of my dress and leave long trailing ribbons. I found the center of the length and pinned it to the center back of my dress at the waistline. Then I pinned it again at the sides of the waist just where the drawstring ended.

After that, I approximated how long the shoulder strap needed to be and, through trial and error, figured out where they needed to be joined and at what angle to stay on my shoulders. Those got pinned onto the dress as well.

With those pieces pinned in place, I pinned on a ribbon to connect the two shoulder straps and a short ribbon connecting the center of the waist ribbon to the center of the shoulder-connecting ribbon.

I unpinned it all from the dress (making sure the ribbons were still pinned together), trimmed any excess ribbon, and pinned the raw edges of the ribbon under. That all got basted in place and I gave it one last try-on.

Once everything was finalized, I used a spaced backstitch and thread in a matching color to sew everything together. And then my first bodice was done!

Almost. I wanted to add two more short ribbons connecting the shoulder straps to the waistband, but I had to make sure I had ribbon enough to decorate the straw bonnet I'd be getting soon. The bonnet arrived a few days later and was decorated with enough ribbon to spare to finish my bodice. The last two straps were pinned, basted, and attached in the same manner as the rest. Then the bodice was fully complete.

The Red Ribbon Bodice

Why stop at one ribbon bodice when you can have two?

My second ribbon bodice was made of the same kind of 2" poly satin ribbon, but in a dark red, and I opted for a much simpler design.

I started this one the same as the other - a long ribbon sash marked at the center. The center got pinned to the center front this time, so it ties in the back. I then cut two lengths of ribbon for shoulder straps and pinned them where I wanted in the front.

The other end of the shoulder straps were pulled around to the back and clumsily pinned into place. The straps needed to be close enough to the back to keep from falling off, but still leave enough room to tie the waistband between them. It took a lot of pinning and re-pinning and trying on and taking off to get this part right, but once I was happy with the length and placement I was good to go.

Like with the first ribbon bodice, I did my best to tuck under any raw edges, and basted everything together before sewing it.

Final Thoughts

These two bodices took me just a few hours total to make, so they're a quick, simple way to expand your Regency wardrobe. I'm not sure how ""historically accurate"" they are, but they look nice and I'm content to settle for historically adequate.

I did this all on myself (by myself) and on my dress as it was either laid out or on a hanger. I feel like having a mannequin (or a trusted sewing helper) would have sped up the process a lot though, especially on the first bodice, where I was pinning on the back a lot. There was a lot of taking off the dress and putting it back on.

But they really were a fun, quick, simple project, and I'd love to see other people's takes on the idea.

I've got an upcoming post on decorating a straw bonnet to match these bodices coming, and then it's the final installment of my 1890s corset, so you'll hear from me again soon!

Stay warm. Stay safe. Stay healthy.

[Image ID: a back-view photo of Alex wearing a red ribbon bodice that ties in the back over a white Regency dress.]

[mrs-gucci]

Lucky Lady {Sir Clyde Logan x nobility!Reader}

author’s notes: KNIGHT!CLYDE LOGAN HAS ARRIVED!! and damn, I think he’s here to stay <3 <3 ((yes, I’m fully aware that southern drawl likely didn’t exist in medieval times, but it’s just a signature of Clyde’s character and I couldn’t bring myself to take it away lol))

warnings: fluff. some hurt/comfort themes/elements. blossoming romance. r.i.p. historical accuracy.

(possible) tw’s: brief depictions of battle & dead bodies (non-descriptive). injuries/wounds. blood (non-graphic).

word count: 1.9k

clyde’s taglist peeps!  @goddessofsprings​ @icarusinthesea my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

terms to know:

mare is a female horse.

Far off thunder gently rumbles the rain-softened ground and bolts of white streak across the darkened sky as you ride out of the kingdom gates towards the sight of the once raging battle. The vicious storm has passed, now, and despite your father’s warning, you rode out to search for any survivors. Bodies litter the ground and you have to look away, feeling sick to your stomach. 

Your horse begins to snort and whinny in distress, suddenly panicked. You can barely see through the hood of your cloak, but you’re pretty sure you see one of the soldiers moving.

You nudge your horses side and she lunges forward into a slow trot, carefully navigating through the maze of fallen soldiers. The closer you get, the clearer you can hear his groans of pain. 

“P-Please,” He breathes, voice hoarse. “Help m-me.”

Without hesitation, you jump down and rush over to him, trying not to slip in the thick layer of mud. 

“Sir? Where are you wounded?”

You pull out the few bandages you managed to fit in the saddlebag in preparation for his response. 

“Ma arm.”

Your eyes fall onto the limb, and you see that almost his entire lower forearm has been sliced off by a crude blade, leaving in its wake an open wound. You quickly and very, very gently wrap the bandages around it.

His half mud-covered face scrunches with every little bit that you wrap and small grunts of torment leave him, but he remains relatively still and calm. When you finish up, you can see the tears that have fallen and cut through the brown painted over his skin.

“Can you stand? I cannot lift you myself, but if you can mount my horse, I’ll walk you back to the castle.” You say, using your cloak to wipe away the rest of the mud, revealing the other half of the knight’s breathtakingly handsome face. 

He nods. “I t-think I can stand, but I might need a lil h-help at the beginnin’.”

You place your hand on the center of his back as he slowly sits up with a soft grunt. “There we go. Are you feeling alright still?”

The young knight chuckles, and you furrow your eyebrows. When he sees your confused and hurt expression, he shakes his head.

“‘m not laughin’ at ya, milady, I’m just not used t’ this sorta treatment. Them nurses n’ ma fellow brothers-in-arms, they ain’t usually so kind or nice t’ us. I’m used t’ gettin’ picked on n’ bossed ‘round.” He chuckles quietly, then blushes a bit. “And none of ‘em ain’t ever as beautiful as ya are.”

His nickname makes your heart skip a beat, and your cheeks warm as you laugh softly.

“Well, now, I never said I wouldn’t be bossing you around.” You jest, which makes him smile. “Only when you’re being stubborn.”

“That, I think I can handle jus’ fine.”

The handsome man chuckles before he begins to rise up from the ground, legs quaking as his weight is put on them once more. He eventually steadies enough to take his first step to where your horse is standing.

Your mare’s ears perk and her nostrils flare at the physically imposing figure approaching. You go to try and calm her, but the knight promptly stops you.

“I got ‘er. It ain’t you she’s ‘fraid of, an’ if ‘m gonna be gettin’ on ‘er back, she’s gotta know I ain’t a threat.”

He slowly walks up to her, taking one step at a time, holding his good hand out. 

“That’s it, ’m not gon’ hurt ya. Good girl, ‘m not gonna do ya any harm.”

She looks a bit hesitant still, but allows the tall, limping man to come up to her. He lets her inspect him for a moment and briefly sniff his outstretched hand, then she relaxes a bit. 

You’re amazed at his natural ability to work with horses, smiling as you step up and put the excess bandages back into the saddlebag. He rubs her head and strokes her muzzle, laughing softly when she starts nudging him with her head whenever he stops petting her.

“Woah now, don’t get too rough with him, Lucky.” You say, smiling shaking your head. “He’s still on the mend.”

“Lucky, hm? Well, I guess now that I know ‘er name, it’s only fittin’ I know yours.”

Your cheeks warm again. “Y/N.”

“Mm, Y/N.” His hand extends to yours. “A pretty name fit fer a pretty girl such as yerself. ‘m Clyde.”

The two of you shake hands, then Clyde gives Lucky one final scratch before approaching the saddle, climbing up onto her back with a surprisingly swift ease. You go to walk up and hold her head to walk back to the castle, but he stops you.

“An’ where is it ya think yer goin’?”

You look up at him, confused. “I told you I was gonna take you back to the castle.”

“Yer not walkin’ all that way, I ain’t allowin’ it.” He pouts softly, huffing as he thinks up a plan. “C’mon up ‘ere. Ya can lay right ‘ere in front ‘a me an’ hold on.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. Surely he can’t be serious... “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

His good hand drops the reins and extends down to you. He looks at you with a kind expression.

“I’ll make sure ya don’t fall. Do ye trust me?”

For some unknown reason, you really, really did. You nod, allowing him to help you lay across the front of the saddle, legs hanging off one side of the horse. You look up at the handsome knight and he looks down at you, smiling.

“Hold on tight, milady. We can’t have ya fallin’, now can we?”

You bite your lip, nodding as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. Once you’re secure, Clyde nudges Lucky forward and heads off towards the palace at a slow gallop.

This close proximity and angle allows you to truly drink in his natural beauty under the low glow of fading sunlight. His dark hair flutters in the evening’s breeze, brilliant alabaster skin splattered with all sorts of freckles and moles, each one even more perfectly placed than the last.

Lucky’s hooves soon hit the cobblestone and you look out between her pricked ears to the scarcely-populated streets of the villages. Everyone who happened to be out on the street gave bewildered looks as the bloody and muddy scene trotted by them.

You direct Clyde to the castle entrance and jump down, already missing the heat of his body pressing against you, informing one of the guards that you had an injured knight that needed immediate attention. He nods and rushes off to grab the doctor.

Clyde smiles when you walk back up to him, hopping down from the saddle slowly and carefully. He strokes Lucky’s neck as he speaks.

“So, will I be seein’ ya again sometime, m’lady?

Your cheeks burn and you giggle softly, biting your lip. “Only if you’d like to.”

“I’d love nothin’ more than to see ye again.” He says with a smile.

“How about I have the doctor inform me when you’re all stitched up and I’ll come down, if you’re feeling up for a visit?”

He nods, pausing his strokes along Lucky’s neck to scratch the back of his own. “I’ll always be feelin’ up for a visit from a pretty lil lady like ya, Y/N.”

You feel your heart flutter for what must be the thousandth time since you met the handsome young knight. Somehow, his words seem so much more genuine than anyone’s have before, and you find yourself truly believing them.

His head dips down a bit and you look up at him, instinctively leaning up towards his lowering face. You can feel his hot breath spread over your skin, noses touching now, and your eyes begin to flutter shut as his lips reach just over yours--

“Milady!” The guard says from behind you, jolting you and Clyde apart. He turns a soft red color, looking down at the ground while you spin around and try to keep some wits about you as you approach the guard and doctor.

A brief visual inspection of the wounded knight is done and immediately, the doctor insists that Clyde come to the medical ward right away. He hands Lucky’s reins to you with a small nod, then allows himself to be escorted up through the large castle doors.

You take Lucky back down to the royal stables before rushing up to your bedroom, eagerly awaiting the doctor’s arrival. The night draws on and, before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

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

Birds chirp as the sun begins to rise over the land once more. You’re roused from night’s slumber by the light peeking through the luxurious curtains and you instantly arise from bed, acutely panicked by the fact that the doctor never came to retrieve you last night. 

You quickly re-pull your hair up before scrambling to find something suitable to wear down to the medical ward, settling on a simple blue villagers dress. As soon as you open the door, you’re startled to find the doctor standing just outside, his hand raised in preparation to knock.

“Milady.” He greets you. “Sir Clyde has been unwavering from his desire to see you all throughout the night. I assured him that I’d come to get you first thing.”

Thanking the doctor and pushing past him without another word, you quickly rush to where Clyde’s laid on a cot in one of the closed-off areas. You smile at the sight of him before knocking gently on the wall outside his room.

“I believe my presence was requested.”

Clyde’s entire being lightens when his eyes land on you, content pout pulling up into a soft smile. 

“It was indeed, m’lady.”

You walk up and sit at his bedside, trying to ignore the way your body warms at the sight of his bare chest. Your hand slowly slides over to meet his, resting atop it.

“How are you doing? Are you in much pain?”

He nods. “The pain ‘s pretty bad, but ‘m doin’ alright. But, ‘m doin’ much better now that I get t’ see ya.”

“Always happy to help.” You smile, biting your lip. “I’m glad to hear that you’re okay, Sir Clyde.”

His cheeks turn pink and he shyly threads his fingers through yours. 

“So, now that yer here, I was hopin’ that we could...” He trails off and you smile, moving up a bit closer to him, leaning in slightly so that your faces are close together. The breath catches in his throat. “F-Finish where we left off, ‘fore I had t-t’ go.”

You laugh softly and, as soon as you nod, Clyde closes the space between you, lips pressing on yours gently. Both of you let out a soft sigh of relief at the feeling of finally being joined in this way, and his good hand comes up to cup your cheek. His lips tug up into a big, face-splitting grin as he pulls away slowly, still cradling your cheek.

“Thank ye fer savin’ me, Y/N. I dunno what I can do t’ repay ya.”

You smile and chuckle. “I think saying ‘thank you’ a few more times is a good place to start.”

Clyde laughs softly, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Whatever yer heart desires, m’lady.”

[snowgoldwaylon]

A Night At The Opera - Grigori Weaver X Reader

Performing is what you loved to do best. Meeting a young soldier is just what you always dreamed off, but while you were on tour for one of the most iconic operas ever written. And you, the main character.

TW: None!

"Y/N! You are live in 10 minutes!" The producer called, as he walked past your mirror.

You glanced in the mirror and just caught the last glimpse of him leaving the room. You turned to look back at yourself in the large vanity, the lights illuminating your current hair style which stood pretty tall.

You were getting final touches to hair and makeup, and it just so happens for this opera, you were the main star. And as hollywood rules states, go big or go home. So you chose the classic big, bouncy curly hair with curled sideburns to give it spice.

It was elegant, you had little glass flowers put all through it so it would glitter and reflect off the stage lights. You wore a stunning ballgown dress, with large bell sleeves. And for the finishing touch which the hair stylist was putting in your hair?

An authentic, diamond and gold lined tiara, which had a long, lace veil attached to the back. You simply smiled at how you looked in this moment. A makeup artist came over and touched up some spots and re-applied the ruby red lipstick you had on.

As soon as they finished, you looked over yourself and smiled. You pushed a falling glass piece back into place, applied hairspray, and got up. You soothed the dress out and turned to the two who had made you look stunning.

"Thank you both, you have made my dream look come true! I think I'm going to permanently hire both of you to tour with me!" You exclaimed, giving a hand.

They both nodded graciously, and bowed with a humble 'thank you' before you were pulled away by someone.

"Okay Y/N, you will be live in one minute. You know the cues, good luck out there!" The stage coach yelled, pulling you to the side stage.

You watched as the young man who played Pollione finish his number, Meco all'altar di Venere. After the dramatic change of scene and the curtain close, the audience clapped loudly. The moment you trained for was finally here!

You watched as Klaus, the owner of the gorgeous, all original opera house approached you. You smiled, and he gave you his hand.

"Miss Y/N, do you look stunning! I must tell you before you go on, we have special guests in the audience. Not to make you worried or such, but these guests are returning soldiers from the war. One in particular who you might have the chance to meet after, is named Grigori Weaver. He loves operas, and even funded this show to go on!" Klaus exclaimed.

You were taken back by the odd sounding name. Grigori? Is that Russian? you asked yourself. You smiled at Klaus, and gave a simple nod.

"Yes Klaus, I understand. Thank you for the information. I do hope to meet him afterwards!" You said.

The stage hand tapped your shoulder, as you saw two men heading towards the curtain strings.

"I must go, Klaus. Thank you!" You said, before taking your spot center stage, right up against the curtain.

The choir filed in behind you on the risers as you stood, singing small voice warmups before it was go time. You felt nervous, but excited. Your heart raced with joy and adrenaline as the final words of the scene were spoken.

That was the cue! With the final dialouge spoken, the curtains opened. The lights suddenly filled your vision, along with the large crowd in the huge theather. A small, soft smile was written on your flawless features as the orchestra began the song.

The flute soloist filled the room with warm, beautiful, contrasted music with crescendos and decrescendos. It sounded almost ominous, but it was beautiful. You stood in the pose as practiced before.

The bell sleeves hung beautiful as you would slightly lift your arms with the music. The violins cued your very first note, and you gave it your all.

"Casta Diva, che inargenti

queste sacre antiche piante,

a noi volgi il bel sembiante

senza nube e senza vel."

You maintained a professional and elegant posture as you acted the part of your character, Norma. You swayed lightly with the music, and smiled as the choir behind you hit the correct notes, pitch, and phrases behind you. You glanced out over the crowd, and right away spotted a man wearing an eye patch in the VIP section.

Suddenly, you felt the urge to finish this aria right, and with ease. Your next cue happened, and you let the bell sleeves hang beside you.

"Tempra, o Diva,

tempra tu de’ cori ardenti

tempra ancora lo zelo audace,

spargi in terra quella pace

che regnar tu fai nel ciel.

 

Fine al rito

e il sacro bosco

sia disgombro dai profani.

Quando il Nume irato e fosco,

chiegga il sangue dei Romani.

Dal Druidico delubro

La mia voce tuonerà.

Cadrà; punirlo io posso.

Ma, punirlo, il cor non sa.

 

Ah! bello a me ritorna

Del fido amor primiero;

E contro il mondo intiero

difesa a te sarò.

Ah! bello a me ritorna

Del raggio tuo sereno,

e vita nel tuo seno,

e patria e cielo avrò.

Ah, riedi ancora qual eri allora,

quando il cor ti diedi allora,

ah, riedi a me."

With the last note of the orchestra, ending right after your vocals pitched down, you struck an elegant pose. The diamond of the tiara made you sparkle as you soaked up all limelight.

Cheers roared and echoed through the halls and walkways of the opera house. Whistles and flowers were thrown as the curtains began to slowly close. You glanced towards the man with the eyepatch again, and saw him standing up.

He joined everyone in a standing ovation because your pure and effortless talent had shaken them to the core, but in a good way. The heat of the lights brought you to a pant, and small specks of sweat beaded at the line of your hair.

The curtains finally came to a close and you released the pose. You quickly made the way backstage to cool off, so you wouldn't look rough for the finishing act.

Producers swarmed you, makeup artists, and hair artists also swarmed you like buzards so they could doll you back up. You were to keep the hairstyle for the final act, but change the dress for a Victoria era wedding dress.

TIMESKIP, END OF THE OPERA

You gathered at the entrance along with the cast to say goodbye to guests as they exited the opera house. This gave guests a chance to get autographs, pictures, and words to say. You were of course, the first at the door for the order of namesake.

Soon, the hundreds of people came, and shook hands with everyone. You were signing many autographs for many people, and snapping many pictures for all. And you were very determined to make sure everyone who asked had one.

Soon, the end of the line came, and out came the man in question. The handsome, dark haired man with the eye patch and a handsome pair of dress blues. He made conversation with everyone, and you even noticed Klaus right beside him, talking.

They came up to you last, and the rest of the cast exited to get cleaned up. You smiled as they approached, and held out your hand.

"Evening, Miss Norma. You did fantastic. My name is Grigori Weaver, could I have yours please?" He asked kindly, taking your hand and giving it a small kiss.

You blushed as Grigori let your hand go, and turned to Klaus.

"This is the gentleman who sponsored the whole show!"

"Ah yes, Grigori. Nice too meet you. I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Or as you know, Norma. On behalf on all my cast and producers, coaches, and myself, we thank you. This production would have been lost if it wasn't for you kind donation." You said.

He smiled at you, and only you. He couldn't get over how flawless and just how polite you were.

"Well, as proven tonight, Miss Y/L/N, it's my pleasure. I do hope you stick around for more performances these coming years, da?" He asked.

"Well of course! I plan on staying in the opera for many years while I attend school and look for my dream job." You said.

Grigori looked at his watched, and slipped his hat on. While he fixed the collar on his jacket, he fished inside his coat for something. He pulled out a brilliant, luscious red rose and handed to you. You gratefully accepted as a blushed creeped across you.

"I must be going now, my job starts soon. But, for you, Norma. Maybe possibly I could come see you perform again this coming week?" He asked.

"Of course you can, I'd love that." You said, with a smile.

"Off I go then. Have a wonderful evening, both of you!" He said as he exited the opera house.

You watched him walk to his very luxurious car, and he looked back. You waved and turned on your heel, walking back with Klaus.

"I think you just got the VIP to fall in love with you, nyet?" He asked.

"Klaus, do not be so foolish! He was simply being nice." You said, walking up the first flight of stairs.

"But, he did say he'd be returing for the other shows. If he does, then that will prove my point for sure!" Klaus said.

You came to your dressing room, and wished Klaus a good evening as you closed the door. You set the red rose in a vase on your vanity and began carefully taking out the pieces from your hair. You couldn't stop thinking about with Grigori had said.

And over the rest of the following days the opera showed, Grigori kept his promise. Soonz the vase was overflowing with roses. And after one performance, you found yourself at one of the nicest restaurants with Grigori.

That was one hell of a night at the opera.

Taglist: @smokeywhalee @wennbergbabe @justagenderfluidstuff @goawaypleasecryingemoji @kazazure @kapanovangswife @xundeadqueenx @direwolfspostsrandomshit

[pan-fangirl-345]

Volleyboy Blondie

Summary: There’s a boy that you set to at the community center. Your brother and his best friend are overprotective. You don’t have many friends. You’re about to find out how these three things correlate.

A/N: I don’t even know anymore people, I really don’t. Please ignore the blatant self-projection in these. And ignore the fact that our resident Mad Dog is quite OOC. And yes, the title is supposed to be like that, read and you’ll find out why.

TW: Swearing, low self-esteem, overprotective brother and brother figures, there is some minor violence, but it is well deserved in my opinion, there is a small hint of sexual harassment, but nothing rape-y happens. As always, if I’ve left anything out, please let me now through an ask or a personal message and I will get right on it.

“You’re late,” the boy said, frowning.

“Sorry Blondie, my brother wanted to tell me about how mean his girlfriend is for dumping him,” you muttered, tying your shoes up as he walks over.

The blond boy grunted, watching as you stood and stretched your arms out.

You had learned a while ago that he wasn’t one for words, he just watched you like you were a puzzle that he was trying to figure out.

“Toss to me?” he inquired.

“I wouldn’t be here to do anything else,” you told him, tossing him the ball.

He backed up, bumping the ball to you before he made his approach.

You watched the ball, tracking it with your eyes, then glancing at him, letting the ball glance off your fingers.

You watched as his arm went back, back muscles contracting and rippling against his t-shirt as he slammed it over the other side of the net, the sound resounding through the gym for a moment before he turned to you, eyes shining in a way that told you he wanted another one.

You grinned at him, grabbing another ball from the basket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blond guy, you had never learned his name, sat against the wall, chugging the water bottle you had just handed him.

“You’re good,” he muttered, looking up at you. “You on a team?”

“No,” you admitted, sitting next to him. “Everyone would assume I’m trying to be like my brother. And I really don’t need that right now.”

“You talk about your brother a lot.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard not to,” you muttered. “Considering everyone compares me to him. It’s one of the reasons I like hanging around you. You have no expectations.”

He raised an eyebrow, then said, “Kyoutani.”

“Huh?”

“My name, it’s Kyoutani.”

“And you’re telling me this . . . why?”

He shrugged. “Figured you should know.”

“You can call me (Y/F/N),” you told him, tossing your water bottle into your bag as you checked your phone. “What do you want?”

“Is that anyway to talk to your favorite older brother?” Tooru asked.

“You’re my only brother, older or otherwise. So, I repeat my earlier question. What do you want?” you asked.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the community gym. Why?”

“Is Iwa-chan there with you?” Tooru inquired.

“No, why?”

“You know how we feel about you going places without us.”

“Tooru, I am fifteen, almost sixteen, I’m not the cute little five year old in a skirt that you had to follow everywhere. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m with a-” You paused. Kyoutani wasn’t really a friend, but he wasn’t a random guy either. “An acquaintance of mine.”

Kyoutani gave a small snort and you rolled your eyes. “Shut it, Blondie.”

“Huh?”

“Not you, moron. I’ll be home in like, an hour, try not to piss Haji off too much while I’m gone alright?”

You hung up before your brother could get another word in, chuckling.

“Oh, I hate him,” you muttered, tossing your phone into your bag again. “You wanna go again?”

Kyoutani nodded, raising to his feet.

“What about you?” you inquired. “You on a team?”

“Kind of,” he muttered, toying with the ball in his hands. “I don’t get along with them.”

“Well, that must suck for them,” you said. “You’re a good player.”

He may have looked like a delinquent, but Kyoutani was a good person, he was just blunt.

“Give me a second, I just need to redo my hair,” you said, pulling your hair out of it’s braid, shaking it loose.

“Want some help?” he asked.

“You know how to braid hair?”

“I have a little sister,” he admitted, moving to run his fingers through your hair, easily weaving the three sections together.

“You must be a great brother, mine makes me pay him to do my hair,” you muttered.

Kyoutani snorted, taking the elastic you handed him.

“Thanks,” you said, toying with the end of your braid. “Come on, if I’m not back within an hour my brother will call Haji, and I don’t need that bloodhound on my ass,” you muttered, making Kyoutani snort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shrugged your jacket on as you headed out of the gym.

“Tomorrow?” Kyoutani inquired.

“You betcha,” you said, smiling at him.

He stood there for a moment, then asked, “Can I walk you to the bus?”

“You don’t have to, it’s not far,” you told him.

“Want too though.” 

“I mean, if you want to I guess it’s okay,” you said, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

Your phone buzzing made you sigh. “I’m on my way home, don’t send Haji out.”

“(Y/F/N), it’s Hajime,” Hajime said. “Where are you?”

“I’m walking to the bus stop. I’m literally like, fifteen minutes away,” you said, adjusting your bag.

“Your brother is freaking out.”

“My brother is a little shit,” you told him.

“I know, I’ve known him front, back, right, left, and inside out since we were seven. You’re his sister, he wants to protect you.”

“See, here’s the thing Haji, you’ve both been tailing me like guard dogs since I was- what?- three? You two aren’t going to be around forever. You guys have to stop isolating me,” you told him. “I love you like another brother Haji, but god damnit, you’re both overbearing!”

Hajime sighed, and you could hear Tooru in the background, crying.

“Fuck, was I on speaker?”

“Yup,” Haji replied.

“Fuck my life,” you muttered. “Do damage control, I’ll be home soon.”

You hung up, running a hand over your hair.

“How bad?” Kyoutani asked.

“Don’t ask,” you muttered. “Look, thank you for this. These meet-ups help me as much as they do you. I’ll see you around Kyoutani.”

He nodded, looking slightly shocked.

“What?” you inquired.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, but the tips of his ears burned red and you smiled at him.

“Why are you shy all of a sudden?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Anyway, thank you for walking me to the station, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kyoutani nodded, making sure you were seated before he headed towards his own home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tooru, Haji, I’m home,” you called, tossing your bag  down as you untied your shoes.

“(Y/F/N)!” Tooru whined, throwing himself at you. “I-I’m sor-sorry!” he sobbed.

“Get off me!” you hissed, shoving him towards Hajime, who grunted.

“Ar-Are we re-really ov-overbearing?” he inquired.

“Yes. Look,” you began. “I love you both, but I don’t have friends. I don’t have a boyfriend. Have you ever wondered why? I can’t make friends with the girls because they’re vultures and they want to get close to the two of you, and most of the guys I know are terrified of the both of you and your team.”

“It’s my job to protect you!” Tooru said, pouting.

“Tooru, this isn’t protecting me,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I need to be able to make my own friends. You can’t keep sending Haji out like a fucking bloodhound when you don’t know where I am.”

“What about that acquaintance you were talking about earlier?”

“He doesn’t have anything to do with this! Only reason I even know him is because I set for him. I only learned his name today!”

“He?”

Tooru had that squinty look on his face when he didn’t like something. And Haji had that look that told you he was pissed.

“Don’t give me those looks,” you snarled. “He wouldn’t touch me like that with a thirty foot fucking pole. He’s too emotionally stunted for that. Besides, if you boys haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly crush material.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” Haji demanded.

“Like, every person in school? I hang out with mostly boys, I get called a slut and whore by the girls, and I’m not feminine enough for most of the boys I hang out with. I’ve been told that the thought of dating me is like the thought of being gay to them. I’m not getting many confessions,” you snarled, crossing your arms over your chest.

Tooru and Haji stared at you for a moment before Tooru asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“And be the little bitch that runs to her big brother and his beefy friend to fix all of her problems? I don’t think so,” you said, scowling.

The three of you stood there for a moment in silence before Tooru made a choked noise, looking close to tears.

Your phone ringing caught your attention and you sighed, rummaging through your bag to find it.

Volleyboy

“Everything okay?” you asked, answering the call.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you calling? Do you have to reschedule again?”

“No.”

“C’mon, I need a little more info here Blondie,” you told him.

“I wanted to make sure you were home,” he admitted.

“So you called?” you said. “You haven’t called me since we started this whole thing.”

Kyoutani wasn’t one for words, you had learned that a long time ago, and you knew that if you saw him he would be bright red and shrugging.

“Thank you for the concern Blondie,” you told him. “I have to go, I’m talking with my brother, but we’re still on for tomorrow right?”

“Definitely,” he replied.

“Great, later Blondie,” you said, ending the call. 

“Blondie?” Haji questioned.

“I didn’t know his name until today and I had to call him something other than Volleyboy. We had this unspoken deal, I set for him, he spikes for me, and we don’t make small talk. Or that was the deal until Tooru made me late today.”

“Huh,” Hajime muttered. “Well, as long as he doesn’t try anything. Stop with the look Shittykawa!”

“Haji, you keep forgetting that those names apply to me too,” you teased, wrinkling your nose at him. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower and get something to eat, what do you two want?”

“I just want you to be happy, (Y/F/N),” Tooru said, looking sad.

“You’re gonna be waiting a while Ruru,” you told him, using the old nickname you had given him as a child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, (Y/F/N), do you think that you could help us out?” Haji asked.

“Sure, whatcha need?” you inquired.

“Can you refill these and help pick balls up? We need a manager, but no one wants to do it.”

“Ask one of my brother’s fangirls, I’m sure they’d be more than willing,” you muttered.

“No, we tried that. They don’t actually help to manage the team. Most of the guys seem to know you, so we were hoping that you would consider managing for us?”

“I mean, do you guys really want me to be the manager?” you inquired. “I don’t really feel qualified.”

“The guys all love you, and Tooru and I will be here to make sure that they keep their hands to themselves.”

“Wow Haji,” you muttered. “Subtle much?”

He shrugged, looking at you for a moment before he said, “I leave subtle to your brother.”

“Yeah, because my brother is so subtle.”

“So, you in?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Guys, this is (Y/F/N) Oikawa, she’ll be our new manager.”

“So you’re the famous little sister we’ve heard so much about,” Hanamaki said.

“You’ve never met her?” Yahaba inquired.

“Nope, she’s never there when we go over, and she doesn’t come on team retreats,” Mattsukawa said.

“I’m never there because I can barely stand my brother around Haji, I don’t want to have to deal with his melodramatic ass around someone he called the ‘Meme Team’,” you retorted, arms crossed.

“If you were expecting a mini Oikawa, you boys are gonna be disappointed,” Haji said, smirking. “These two are polar opposites.”

“Murder me,” you mumbled. “Tooru, stop hiding in the corner and get your ass over here. This is your team!” you shouted, glaring at him.

“No, you’re pissed, and you scare me more than Iwa-chan does!”

“Hey!” you both shouted, laughing.

“I’m not pissed, I’m irritated because I don’t know how I got roped into this,” you said. “Whatever, it’s not like I have anything else better to be doing.”

You glanced at the clock and grinned. 

“See you fools later, I have someone I need to meet. Tooru, I’ll be home late, there’s food in the fridge, Dad’s working over time, and Mom is working a double shift for one of the women on maternity, so they won’t be home. Takeru is coming tomorrow morning, don’t forget because I have to leave early.

“Haji, make sure he remembers Takeru, and please, for the love all things sacred to our family, do not let him watch any of those alien conspiracy shows he’s a nut-job for. The last time he did that he came into my room at three in the morning sobbing about corn probes or something,” you muttered, throwing your hair up into a knot on the top of your head.

“Stop airing my dirty laundry (Y/F/N)!” your brother cried, pouting.

“Shove it up your ass Tooru, this is my payback for you and Haji following me like angry fucking Pomeranians,” you told him, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you hurried out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were bumping a ball against the wall when Kyoutani walked in.

“Hey Blondie,” you said, catching the ball. “You’re late this time.” You paused when you saw his face. “You good?”

“The captain of the team I’m on came by earlier and wanted me to come back.”

“What did you tell him?” you asked, watching his face. “You said yes! Ha!” you cheered, throwing your arms around him. “I’m proud of you.”

It took a few moments of Kyoutani standing stiffly under your touch for you to realize what had happened.

You practically threw yourself against the opposite wall, cheeks burning. “Sorry, I do that with my brother sometimes. Anyway, I’m proud of you! This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

You could see the ‘but’ in his eyes.

“But?” you prompted.

“This means I have to stop seeing you.”

Your cheeks heated again and you gave a soft smile.

He looked so open about it. He was genuinely upset by the fact that he might not see you again.

“I mean, i-if you’re that worried about it, we could meet up on the weekends? We’ve rearranged our schedules before,” you told him.

Kyoutani shook his head, ears tinged pink again. “How about a date?”

“Are you serious? Is my brother hiding here somewhere? Haji maybe?”

“I . . . don’t think I know either of them,” he said, eyes wide in surprise. “If you don’t want to-”

“No!” you blurted, then winced. “I want to, go on a date with you I mean, but I’m just trying to make sure this isn’t a . . . a prank or something,” you admitted, glancing around, eyes alert. “I’m waiting for someone to post a video or something.”

“Do I really seem like the kind of guy to do that?”

“No, but I’ve learned not to trust people too much.”

“You trust me though,” he reminded you.

You sighed; he did have a point. “This isn’t some sick joke? You actually want to go out with me?”

“Yes?”

“Is it a question now?” you teased.

“No. I do want to go out with you.” He said it with so much conviction, it kind of surprised you. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

You looked at each other for a few moments before you burst out laughing. Well, he was chuckling, but it was close enough.

“C’mon, let’s play,” you said, tossing him the ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“First official day as manager, are you nervous?” Tooru asked.

“No,” you said. “I know most of the boys, and I basically did the gig in middle school, so I think I’ll be all set.”

“You’ll be great Pip,” Haji said. He had called you Pipsqueak until you were a third year in middle school and Pip was something he had started calling you recently as a remembrance to that nickname, despite your numerous protests.

“You guys are acting like parents sending their child off to their first day of school, stop,” you said, shrugging your brother’s arm off your shoulders as you walked into the gym.

“Heads!” someone shouted and you immediately flinched and ducked your head. You turned to see the ball coming right towards you and you instinctively moved your hands into a setting posture, shooting it towards the ace position.

Silence followed as the boys stared at you.

“Pip, you alright?” Hajime asked, the first to break the silence.

“I’m fine Haji,” you muttered. “My brother isn’t the only setter in the family.”

“You can set?” Tooru asked, pure and genuine surprise lining his face as he looked at you.

“Tooru, I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t the only volleyball dork in the family,” you said, tying your hair up. “You also seem to forget that when you used to follow me around, I watched you and Haji. I also played with you guys, when you let me. You weren’t the only ones that liked to play. Let’s put it this way, you’re the sun, and I am the shadow caused from that light.”

“So poetic,” Tooru muttered.

“Tooru, I have to listen to your dramatic ass all the time, I also hear what you say at your games. I’m not a complete moron.” You paused. “Well, not all the time anyway.”

Someone nearby snorted, and you glanced around at his teammates.

“Just leave it be Tooru,” you told him. “Haji, don’t. Say. Anything,” you snarled, pointing at him.

“But-”

“No. We don’t talk about it,” you reminded him.

“Alrighty then, time to continue practice!” Tooru said, clapping his hands with that creepy grin he had around his teammates.

“Good God, he’s gonna be terrible, isn’t he?” you inquired, making Haji snort.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, falling in line with the rest of their team as practice started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was easy to get into a groove with your brothers’ team, easier than you would’ve thought, though it might’ve been because the job was easy to begin with.

“I never would’ve thought Oikawa-san would have a sister like you,” Yahaba admitted during a water break.

“What do you mean?” you inquired.

“I just mean that you seem a lot more like Iwaizumi-san than Oikawa-san.”

“I mean, those two followed me like hellhounds for as long as I can remember, I always liked hanging around Haji because I could ditch him whenever I wanted, I had to live with Tooru.”

“So, you’re . . . you’re really a setter?” Yahaba asked.

“Um, I guess? I’m not on a team or anything, but . . . yeah, I can do it,” you admitted. “And before you ask, no, it’s not because of my brother.”

“I . . . wasn’t gonna ask you that,” Yahaba said.

“Really? As soon as everyone finds out who my older brother is and that I set, they usually assume it’s because of my brother.”

“Being a setter means you learn to read people,” Yahaba said with a shrug. “You learn to apply that to real life too. You don’t seem like the kind of person that would do something just because your brother does it. You seem like the kind of person to do the opposite of what your brother would be doing, just to make him mad.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

He snorted on a laugh, making you smile.

“Any tips?” Yahaba asked. “I’m-”

“The reserve setter for my brother, I know,” you told him. “I’ve watched a lot of your games. You’re good, from what I’ve seen. The only tips I have for you are learn to read your teammates. Oh, and learn how to read the other team. Find cracks.

“Be like water and ice. Think of it like cracks in the sidewalk. That small crack gets bigger and bigger until something breaks. Find the cracks, slip in, and freeze. The more you melt and refreeze, the bigger the cracks get.”

“That’s actually a really good way of thinking about it,” Yahaba muttered. “Most people say ‘find the weak link’ or something.”

“Well, I like to think of it like this; the weak link won’t always break the chain. What if the weak link is the last link? Or the second to last? It weakens the chain, but the rest is still viable. Cracks spread until everything breaks.”

“Huh, I like that,” Yahaba said. “Thank you-” He paused, then said, “I feel weird calling you ‘Oikawa’.”

“You can call me (Y/F/N), it makes it easier,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, I don’t need other teams knowing that Tooru is my older brother anyway. And you don’t have to use an honorific,” you added. “It makes me feel like we’re in a business meeting.”

You shuddered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Yahaba laughed and you smiled at him.

“How come we haven’t hung out before now?” he inquired. “It just seems like we’d be good friends.”

You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t really trust anyone. Girls have been trying to use me to get to my brothers since I can remember, and a lot of the other people I know are terrified of them. More Haji than Tooru, but still.”

“So, you and Iwaizumi a thing or-?”

“If you’re asking me if we’re dating, or if there’s a mutual interest, the answer is a big fat no fucking way. I mean, I had a crush on him when I was like, eleven, but there’s no way we would work, even if I was interested. Besides, my brother would never let anything happen.”

Yahaba watched you for a moment before huffing, a small noise of contemplation.

“Alright guys water break’s over, time to try-”

Whatever Tooru was going to say was cut off by the gym doors opening, a boy walking through them.

He stood there for a moment, ripping a piece off of the bun he was eating as he stared down the team.

“Blondie?” you asked, slightly dazed.

His eyes snapped to you, and something in his eyes softened before the shock took over at seeing you standing in the Seijoh gym.

“Ah, Mad Dog-chan!” Tooru said, grinning at the blond boy, who immediately went on his guard.

“Tooru, stop messing with him,” you snapped.

“Tooru?” Kyoutani inquired, eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you.

“Surprise,” you muttered. “I suppose this means I have some things to explain, does it?”

“Care to explain (Y/F/N)?” Tooru asked, arms crossed.

“Why me?” you whimpered, glaring up at the fluorescent lights in the gym. You sighed, letting your shoulders slump. “Gather ‘round boys, it’s story time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mad Dog is dating my baby sister?” Tooru shouted, high pitched and whiney. 

Hajime hit him on the head and said, “Shut it Shittykawa.”

“Tooru, I am literally one,” you held up a single finger, “year younger than you, shut up. After this he might not even want to go out with me. And besides, this was bound to happen eventually. You can’t scare off every guy, you know. Pretty soon the two of you won’t even be around.”

You leaned against the wall, glaring at your brother.

You had just finished explaining how you had met Kyoutani at the community center one night, trying to get away from Tooru for some piece and quiet, how you had made a silent deal when you saw him trying to spike on his own, how you had gotten closer to him until he had asked you out the other night when Tooru had asked him to come back to the team.

“And I didn’t know she was your sister,” Kyoutani grunted, scowling even more than your brother and Haji combined.

“And that would have made a difference?” Tooru snapped, glaring at Kyoutani, who seemed surprised.

You didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often that your brother was serious about anything other than volleyball, and that seriousness was usually aimed at the other team’s players.

“He wouldn’t have touched me with a 400 foot pole if he had known I was your sister, if not for you then for Hajime,” you answered, trying to hide your wince. You had known that you would’ve had to tell Kyoutani eventually, especially if your date had gone well, but you hadn’t expected this.

“I feel like I’m watching a drama on TV,” Hanamaki muttered to Mattsun, who nodded.

“Fuck this,” you hissed. “Look,” you turned to Kyoutani. “That’s my brother and the bloodhound.” You turned to look at your brother. “That’s the guy I’ve been sneaking out to play volleyball with.” You looked up at the ceiling. “And this is why I don’t have any fucking friends.”

You sighed, running your hands over your hair, trying to keep your composure. You really didn’t need to lose it right here. “Just get back to practice,” you ordered. “We can talk about this later if it’s still an issue.”

“C’mon Loserkawa, we need to get back to practice,” Hajime said, and you shot him a grateful look.

“This isn’t over,” Tooru told you, a serious look on his face as he walked away.

“I am so massively fucked,” you muttered, holding you head in your hands. A small touch on your shoulder made you looked up to see Kyoutani standing there, looking concerned. “Just go practice,” you told him. “It’s okay.”

“I still wanna go out with you,” he said, pausing for a moment before he wandered away.

“Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the practice was over you were sliding your other shoes on, practically running from the gym.

Someone shouted at you, either Kyoutani or Hajime, but you weren’t listening. You wanted some time to think before you talked to anyone about this.

And I didn’t know she was your sister. 

Would it have made a difference if he knew I was his sister? Would he have even let me close if he’d known who I was? Probably not, based on how he reacted to my brother earlier. You thought miserably.

He had said that he wanted to go out with you still. Although that might have been because of all the people there. But . . . Kyoutani also wasn’t the kind of person to put up a show for someone else’s benefit.

You sighed, pulling your hoodie closer around you, trying to draw comfort from it as you wandered.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, you were just letting your feet carry you away from the gym and preferably your problems, even if that’s not how it worked.

You heard voices swimming around in your brain, but you didn’t think anything of it until someone’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, jerking you to a stop.

You were expecting Kyoutani or Haji, but there was a stranger holding your wrist in his hand.

“Can I help you?” you inquired.

“You can stop being a bitch and ignoring me,” the man retorted.

“Look dude, it’s been a long day for me, so I apologize if I’m a little spacey, but I have no clue who you are. I owe you absolutely nothing, so let me go.”

“I think not,” he replied. “I think you owe me for ignoring me.”

“Let me go,” you ordered, trying to wrench your wrist from his hand.

“No.”

“Look man, I am not in the mood for this bullshit, let me the go and walk away,” you snarled, tensing.

“I don’t think so bitch.”

“Call me a bitch again, I dare you, you pervy fucker,” you snapped.

“Let go of my girlfriend, you son of a bitch.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Kyoutani striding towards you both, rage evident on his already fierce features.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Her boyfriend,” Kyoutani snarled.

“And I’m her brother,” Hajime snapped, stepping into your line of sight, arms crossed over his chest.

“So, you wanna let me go now?” you asked, stepping on his foot and throwing an elbow into his face.

“You little bitch!” he cried, holding his nose, which was starting to drip red.

“Leave,” Kyoutani snarled, slipping his hand into yours softly, slowing tugging you behind him and Hajime. “Or you have to deal with us.”

The guy snarled, but he backed away, disappearing around a corner.

“What the fuck were you thinking (Y/F/N)?” Hajime snapped, turning to you.

Kyoutani didn’t even say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his- very firm- chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying his face in your neck.

“Hey Blondie, it’s okay, I’m fine,” you murmured, slowly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m fine,” you repeated, glancing at Haji, who had already pulled out his phone to call your brother.

“I should’ve been with you.”

“Kyoutani, it’s okay. I’m the one that left without telling you guys where I was going. Besides, like I said, I’m okay.”

He was tense beneath your fingers as you ran them over his back, trying to calm him down a little bit.

You heard your name from Haji and listened to what he was saying.

“-with Kyoutani, figured she’s in good hands.” He paused to listen to Tooru for a moment before he said, “Shut up Shittykawa. We need to leave her be. I’m coming back home.” He paused again. “We need to trust her Tooru.”

The use of your brother’s first name surprised you, but you figured they were still figuring their own shit out.

“Thank you,” you mouthed when Haji turned towards you again. He nodded, making sure you were alright silently before he headed home.

“Hey,” you murmured, carding your hands through Kyoutani’s hair. “Come on out and talk to me. The bloodhound is gone.”

“I should have been here with you,” he repeated.

“Kyoutani,” you ordered, moving your hands to cup his face, letting him balance out a little more of your weight as you forced him to look at you. “Talk to me.”

He simply stared at you for a moment before he laid his forehead against yours.

“You called me your girlfriend,” you blurted, and he tensed again. You gave a small giggle, kissing his cheek, making him blush. “Don’t get all shy now Kyoutani. Come on, just talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did to finding out that he was your brother. I should’ve handled it better. And I was . . . jealous of Iwaizumi-san.”

“Oh Kyoutani,” you said, giving him a small smile. “You never had any reason to be jealous of Haji. For one thing, he’s my other brother, you know that, and secondly, he’s interested in my brother, even if they haven’t figured that out yet.”

“I just . . . really like you. And it-” He stopped, scowling again.

“It scares you,” you finished. He nodded, making you smile. “You think it doesn’t scare me?”

“You just . . . seem so calm all the time. Even when you’re pissed.”

“I live with Tooru,” you said, enunciating each syllable. “I have to be calm. Look Kyoutani, if you want to go out with me- great! If not- oh well- but I hope we can be friends,” you told him.

“I do want to go out with you,” he practically shouted, wincing at his own volume. “Sorry things got lost in translation.”

“It’s okay, just talk to me next time. No sulky puppy, alright?” you demanded, flicking his forehead lightly.

He nodded, then scowled. “’M not a puppy.”

“Sure you aren’t,” you teased. “I think this is the most we’ve talked in the few months that we’ve known each other.”

Kyoutani snorted softly. “I was nervous around you.”

“What? Why?”

“You were this pretty, smart, funny setter. I was used to people avoiding me and being scared. You simply looked at me and smiled.”

“You’re a poet Blondie,” you teased. “C’mon, let’s head back, I think my brother might send out Haji again if I don’t get home soon. Besides, I like talking to you.”

Kyoutani nodded, but he made no move to unwrap his arms from around your waist.

“Or, we could stay here for a little bit,” you said and he grunted. “Okay, we can stay here. On one condition; you have to talk to me.”

“About?”

“Whatever. Everything, nothing, I don’t care. I just want to know you.”

So he talked.

A/N: This is very unrealistic, but whatever. It’s also like, 12:40 in the morning on my end of things and I haven’t slept well lately, so ignore any errors or any imperfections within this imperfection. Stay safe out there my lovelies!

[poppinisperfection]

Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop. 

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had. 

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle. 

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague. 

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out. 

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven. 

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain. 

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer. 

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside. 

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished. 

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway. 

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed. 

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision. 

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen. 

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice. 

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else. 

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream. 

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe. 

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform. 

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment. 

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again. 

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence. 

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently. 

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 2

A/N I am breaking probably the only rule I gave myself when I started writing fanfic, which was Don’t Ever Post a WIP.  But lord knows I’m not immune to peer pressure and the narcotic that is reader feedback, so here it is, the second chapter of what is now an open-ended modern AU story about Jamie the Chef and Claire the Kitchen Disaster.  Still a first person Claire POV, so I apologize in advance for any stray pronouns.

For the first chapter, I recommend reading it on Ao3, since I’ve made some minor edits since I first posted it on Tumblr.  See above re. not planning on posting a WIP.

Oh, and funny story.  When I decided to check the location of the real Ginger Snap catering company in Edinburgh, it was squished between “FrazersOnline” and “McKenzie Flooring”.  If that’s not kismet, I don’t know what is.  The location I describe below, however, is based on a catering venue here in Ottawa called Urban Element, where I’ve attended a few team-building events.  I have yet to set anything on fire, though.

I checked my phone for the third time, confirming I wasn’t lost.  

Frank and I moved to Edinburgh over the summer, just in time for him to start his position as Associate Professor of History at the University of Edinburgh. Despite our years spent in America, neither of us cared overmuch for driving, so we chose a flat (or rather, Frank chose a flat and I concurred) not far from campus.  Therefore, this was the first time I’d ventured as far afield as Leith, a maritime enclave just to the north of the capital that couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be grittily working class or artistically hip. 

When I finally reached the address, I had to smile.  No main street pretensions or non-descript commercial frontage for Ginger Snap Catering.  Before me stood a two-story red brick fire station, still emblazoned with the crest of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Services.  The two massive truck bays were now enclosed by see-through doors that could be drawn back on a sunny day.  Through these a warm yellow light could be seen, spilling onto the grey, damp pavement.

A petite woman with dark hair manned the small reception area, a red-haired toddler clinging to her like a marsupial.  She held a phone to one ear while simultaneously pacing the polished concrete floor.  I stood as unobtrusively as possible near the door, but in such an open space it was impossible not to overhear her side of the conversation.

“... they willna take ‘im back until ‘is fever goes down...  aye, an hour ago when I picked him up but it hasn’t... nay, i dinna think it’s... tis jus’ terrible timing with two weddings t’morrow... Could ye?  Och, I owe ye Mrs. Fitz, a million times o’er... Anytime, we’ll be here.  Alright, soon.”

The speaker turned to me, the harried look of a working mother sharpening her already honed features.

“I apologize fer keeping ye waiting.  What can I do fer ye t’day?”

Before I could respond, the young boy, probably no older than two, began to fuss, rubbing his flushed cheek against his mother’s shoulder.

“Och, mo ghille, Mam kens ye’re poorly.  Mrs. Fitz is coming as fast as she may.”

Unable to quell my instinct to diagnose and then cure, I spoke up.  

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  Based on his age and the way he’s holding his head, it may be an ear infection.”  At the woman’s penetrating look, I hastened to explain: “I’m a doctor.  Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

Permission granted, I carefully palpated the boy under the jaw and peered as best I could without an otoscope into the offending ear canal.  Confident in my diagnosis, I recommended treatment with a warm compress, an over-the-counter analgesic ear drop, and children’s paracetamol to control his fever.  If, after twenty-four hours the symptoms had not improved, they could consider seeing his pediatrician for antibiotics, but these were only truly necessary for a persistent infection.

“Och, ye ‘ave no idea what a relief it is tae hear ye say so, lass.  He’s my first bairn, ye ken, an’ I can ne’er tell if I’m over-reacting or being negligent.   Can ye say thank ye tae the nice doctor, Wee Jamie?”

My stomach jumped.  “Wee Jamie?  Is he related by chance to Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, tis his nephew.  I’m Jamie’s sister, Jenny.  Ye ken my brother, then?”

The pieces fell into place, and my insides settled.

“We’ve spoken before,” I explained.  “I’m Claire Beauchamp.  You and your brother helped me with a dinner party emergency last Tuesday.  I came to return your market bags, and to thank you again for coming to my aid during my hour of need.”

Jenny and I spoke for another ten minutes, sharing the superficial narratives of two strangers brought together by circumstance.  She was warm and thistly by turns, and I felt a longing for the honesty of female friendship that I’d given up when we left Boston.  Eventually a matronly woman arrived to collect Wee Jamie.  I carefully wrote down the exact names and dosages of my prescribed remedy.

After Mrs. Fitz and Wee Jamie had left, it occurred to me that Jenny needed to get back to work.  I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, even if I hadn’t thanked Jamie himself.   As I began to make my goodbyes, however, Jenny interjected. “If ye’re no’ in a rush, why dinna ye join our afternoon cooking class?  My brother will be demonstrating how tae make quiche.  Tis the least we can do, after ye helped Wee Jamie.”

Which was how I found myself standing behind one of six cooking stations arranged across the fire station’s main area, a bright red apron covering my black slacks and saffron turtleneck.  My impetuous curls were slowly breaking ranks from where I’d slicked them into a bun that morning.  I worried I looked like a human Pez dispenser.

I glanced at the workstation immediately to my left.  A slight woman who I guessed to be roughly my own age was engrossed in her phone, a cheeky smirk playing on her berried lips.  Her strawberry blond hair was swept into an effortless chignon that made me twitch with envy.  She looked up from her screen and caught me looking her way.

“Geillis Duncan,” she said, offering a well-manicured hand.

“Claire Beauchamp.  Pleased to meet you.”

“Is it yer first time taking a class, Claire?”  At my nod, she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “Ye’re in for a treat.”

Before I could enquire what she meant, a murmur amongst the other students (all women, save one) was accompanied by the heavy tread of work boots on polished concrete and a familiar Scottish burr.

“Good afternoon, everyone.  Thank ye fer joining me on this dreich Scottish day.  I ken a few of ye are new, so let’s start with a brief overview of yer stations and some basic safety reminders, before we tackle the quiche.”

Today Jamie was wearing a pair of olive pants that tapered down his endless legs and a technical shirt that clung valiantly to his upper body.  He looked like he’d just stepped off the nearest rock climbing pitch.  I wondered if he owned anything that answered to the name of a professional wardrobe, but I couldn’t deny that he looked impressive, in an athleisure sort of way.

“See what I mean?” Geillis hissed at me as Jamie made his way to the front of the hall, speaking now about optimal burner temperatures.  “That man is a dozen kinds of yes.”

I concentrated on each step of the ostensibly simple recipe.  Pie crust had been the previous week’s assignment, so I had only to blind bake the prepared dough already at my workstation.  Once I had the crust centered exactly in the pie pan, pierced with a fork in orderly rows and placed in the oven, I rushed to catch up with the others.  I’d missed Jamie’s instructions regarding pan frying the bacon, so I increased the flame, thinking I could make up a little time.  The fatty meat crackled pleasingly as I set it in the lightly greased pan.  I was inordinately proud of myself.

Things went very badly, very fast.  First, my eyes wouldn’t stop watering as I meticulously peeled then dissected the onion into near-transparent crescents. Tears obscured my vision and I tried to wipe them away without contaminating my hands.  To my left I could make out Geillis skillfully cracking eggs into a glass bowl, her pie crust already elegantly filled with crispy morsels of bacon and caramelized onion bits.  

A vague sense of having forgotten something important tickled my mind.  My pie crust!  Grabbing a silicone glove (I wasn’t making that mistake twice) I rushed to the wall oven and extracted the pan.  Giddy with relief, I saw the dough was only a little dark around the edges.  

Before I could return victorious to my station, Jamie uttered a Scottish noise of alarm from his vantage at the front of the class.   We both rushed across the room to where my rashers of bacon now resembled blackened shoe laces obscured by a heavy veil of smoke.  With practiced ease, Jamie lifted the entire skillet into the adjacent sink and turned on the cold water.  A cloud of steam enveloped his head, highlighting his auburn curls.  I bit my lip as he looked my way in amusement.

“I hope ye werena planning on serving quiche to yer faculty guests t’night, Ms. Beauchamp?”

I stood meekly next to Geillis for the remainder of the class, no longer trusted around open flame without adult supervision.   She graciously allowed me to extract her quiche when it was done baking.  It looked like a magazine cover.  Meanwhile, my workstation looked like the scene of an industrial accident.

While we were waiting for her quiche to cook, Geillis and I got to know each other a little better.  She was a Highland lass from up near Inverness.  Married to a wealthy older man, her life sounded like an endless quest for diversion.  Despite this, or because of it, she had a sharp-witted frankness that I appreciated.  She was also a hard-core gossip.

“Wee besom,” she remarked with a nod towards a blond girl who was currently monopolizing Jamie’s attention with endless questions punctuated by manufactured giggles and flicks of her pin-straight hair.  “Tha’s Laoghaire Mackenzie of the Mackenzie brewing dynasty.  They’ve a live-in cook, so there’s only one reason she attends these classes, and it isna for the quiche.”

I watched Jamie laugh over something the girl said, mineral eyes alight and his perfect white teeth on display.  I suppose I couldn’t blame her.  I wasn’t here for the quiche either.

The interminable ninety minute lesson finally ended.  I thanked Geillis profusely and we exchanged numbers before she rushed off for her reiki treatment.  Gathering my trench coat and purse, I tried to slink away without calling any further attention to myself.

“Ms. Beauchamp!”

I cursed under my breath, then turned to face him.

“Please, call me Claire.  After I nearly burned down your place of business, we should probably be on a first name basis.”

Jamie chuckled. It sounded more natural and lived-in than his earlier response to Laoghaire, but I was likely fooling myself.

“Och, wha’s a cooking demonstration wi’out a wee bit of drama.  Will ye be joining us next week?  We’ll be making ceviche, sae I willna need tae put the fire brigade on stand-by.”

“Bastard,” I replied to his cheeky smirk.  “Alas, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a cook.  It appears to be the one science I can’t master.”

“Cooking isna a science, Claire,” he explained with sincere intensity.  “Tis an art.  Perhaps tha’s the root of yer struggle.”

“Perhaps it is.  But in that case, I may as well give up now.  I haven’t an artistic bone in my body.”

His languorous perusal of said body lit a different kind of flame in my belly.  Geillis was right; he really was a dozen kinds of yes.

“I canna say as I agree.  Come back any time if ye’d like tae try again.”

I blushed, thoroughly discomfited by his blatant flirting.  He knew about Frank.  He’d fled from him onto my fire escape, for Christ’s sake!  Maybe when you looked like James Fraser, every interaction with a woman was merely a chance to hone your craft.  Or maybe he was truly ignorant of his effect.

“I’ll take that under advisement.  Thank you again, Jamie.”

“Until the next time, Arsonist.”

[lolbatty]

Just a quick blurb about some of the stuff I’ve been feeling and struggling with lately about my slowly ending toxic relationship and other stuff..

So far the worst part for me has been convincing my childhood abandonment trauma brain that it’s OKAY to let this person go... that because of many valid actual damn reasons I witnessed they were not a great person for me to spend time with or put energy into.  They didn’t listen to me when I was speaking, did things for me only out of guilt, refused to introduce me to any of their friends or family, continually minimized my feelings, and lied to me constantly about their intentions for the relationship.

I think one of the more nefarious things about the relationship was that another person was involved that I didn’t know about at the beginning, an ex that they were still super close with.  I was trying so hard to be understanding, so scared that I was just being jealous or overbearing when I felt the fear grip me inside after discovering their relationship.  At one point this person even moved into their house, and I wasn’t allowed to come over anymore because ‘they’d get jealous’.  I believed badly tailored lies to keep me around because I was too scared to let them go, especially during the full-swing of the pandemic when I had no one else to be close to. I really valued this person.  I really wanted to believe that relationships are just complicated and messy and it wasn’t them still being in love with this other person, prioritizing them over me, but every instinct inside of me was screaming and every friend I talked to about it looked at me like I was crazy for trying not to be upset or suspicious.  I ignored my intuition, figuring that I was just overreacting.   Even now that we’ve broken up and are slowly drifting apart this other person is still a big part of their life, while their interactions with me are dwindling to nothing (a good thing obviously, but still painful for that inner child).  I should be happy, but part of me is insanely envious of this connection they have, even a little furious.  It triggers a very primal wound from my earliest years.

When I was growing up (4-11yrs) my I worshiped my Dad but he always had a lot of girlfriends, when I spent time with him in the summers I often had to ‘compete’ with these full grown women for his attention because he prioritized his relationships with them over his relationship with me.  It was heart breaking, and gave me a very unhealthy idea of what was expected of XX bodied people to attract and keep attention.  It also gave me a very DEEP and abiding wound centered around jealousy and envy which is haunting me the most right now with my current healing process.  Old, untouched parts of me are churning beneath the surface of my consciousness, altering my ability to regulate my emotions and think logically about how much better off I am not having this crap in my life.  I am SO PISSED OFF that this other person was -chosen- over me.  And even though I never met them, I always hear this ancient voice inside my head wondering.. what do they have that I don’t?  Why wasn’t I good enough?

It’s not that I want this destructive thing in my life, logically I know I should be singing and fucking dancing, howling at the damn moon because I escaped this invalidating cycle of bread crumbing, lying, gaslighting and back burnering.  I know I deserve better.  I want so badly to have better.  But there is so much pain inside of me from these deep old traumas, and I have a lot of really old scars that need to be re-examined and addressed.  In some ways I am grateful for this horrible experience because of everything I’ve learned about my anxious attachment, childhood trauma, complex PTSD and how it relates to my inability to have normal, healthy relationships. 

But I’m also pretty mad about the last two years of my life being an emotionally damaging experience, in the midst of a pandemic, shortly after the sudden and depressingly tragic death of my alcoholic, narcissistic father.

I’ve changed.  I don’t even remember what it was like to be me before 2018.  I don’t draw anymore.  I don’t post anymore.  Commissions are a struggle.  I miss the days of endless artwork and music and fandoms.. cruising tumblr and getting occasionally yelled at for making semi problematic statements because of my own personal growth.  I often find myself wondering about the artists I used to follow who also disappeared.  Where have they gone?  Are their lives getting better?  Worse?  Are they still with us?  I miss them the way I miss the old version of myself.

The years have not been cruel, but they have not been kind either.  This latest battle has been an eyeopening experience.  At almost 35 years I am just now learning I’ve been operating from these cornerstone hangups as if it were normal, like they were something that would get better or change over time if I ‘found the right person’.  But now I know I never will find the right person, not until I find myself, because I will always push away the people who love me and self sabotage anything good.  It’s too uncomfortable, too unfamiliar.  I wanted to get married one day, start a family and build a future for my loved ones, but right now it feels like I’m still clawing my way up to ground zero.

From everything I have seen about attachment disorders, there is definitely hope, but I will need a lot of counseling.  I have to change my relationship with myself before I can stop seeking out this same bullshit situation I’ve once again found myself breaking free from.  As of now, I’m finally understanding why I keep finding myself here.

To anyone else also dealing with childhood PTSD and attachment problems... this wound can be healed.  It takes time and understanding and a lot of hard personal work but it can be done.  Don’t give up on yourself, don’t give up on love.  Get help.  Learn stuff.  Stay the course.  Short term pleasure is not worth the long term pain.  Sit on your throne, let people approach, maintain boundaries.  Give those people time to show you how they are going to behave towards you, how they are going to treat you.  I know it’s hard but it’s worth it.  Avoid jumping into physical intimacy quickly, it’s especially toxic when you have attachment disorders.  Don’t let people walk all over you, NO ONE is cool enough, accomplished enough or attractive enough to be allowed to get away with treating you like shit.  Not ever.  And if someone shows up who genuinely likes you, DO NOT search for reasons to prove them wrong.. I know it feels creepy or scary to be loved but they don’t want anything from you other than your heart, and that’s a good thing.  Embrace it. 

If you’re still here, thanks for reading.

[we-are-swearwolves]

Strip Tease In Reverse

Or “Putting On Clothes Can Be Sexy Too.”

A Coops fic of @lumosinlove ‘s Sweater Weather power couple getting ready for An Event.

Their sex life was healthily balanced, Remus would say. 

It varied between sleepy sweet morning sex, playful Ohh come on I dare you sex, desperate I want every bit of energy you have left, Captain sex, out of this world transcendent how the hell did I find this man, every part of my body feels alive sex. 

This morning they Did Not Have Time for sex. Or at least that was Remus’s position.

He was sitting on his heels at the bottom corner of their bed, arms crossed trying to stare down his fiancé who was evidently not inclined to move, but who would love a Little bit of afternoon (It’s 11 a.m., Pads) delight, Loops, how bout it?

“We really can’t, we have to get ready.” Re had forced himself out of bed, was already wearing a fresh t-shirt and underwear. Sirius, not so much. 

“Boooo. Tired of me already?”

Half a beat of incredulous silence and then, “It is quite an ordeal, having to have an amazing, understanding, affectionate fiancé, along with –” He gestured vaguely to the truly indecent visual he had of Sirius, naked tangled in a white sheet that he knew felt so crisp it should be illegal, “–all of this. Woe is me. Absolutely terrible.” 

Sirius smiled, and, seemed to be kind of poking fun at himself, but mostly making a promise when he said, “Only for you, you know? Just you.” 

Re smiled, soft and fond, “Yeah, baby, I know that.”

He leaned in for a kiss, mouth, tongue–  before interrupting himself with an “Actually,” Cheek, jaw, neck, a sharp scrape of his teeth as he made his way downward, “it’s kind of hot.” 

“Mmm?”

He leaned back and let his eyes move over Sirius' face, neck, tousled hair, chest. To see him, yeah, but also to make Sirius feel beautiful; to let him know that someone he loved was looking at him and wanting. 

“That I get you all to myself. That I’m the only man who gets to have you,” he smiled, “I think it’s kind of how you feel when you see your name on my back.”

It’s as if he could sense Sirius’s center of gravity drop to his hips, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Fuck. Yes. I– I want that. I want to make you feel that way.”

Sirius was trying to contain the smile on his face, but he couldn’t, not really. 

“You like being all mine, baby? Everyone looking, but only I get to see?” 

That was it.

“Fuck being on time, I want to stay here. I want you right now.”

“Really?” kiss “You want it rushed? Quick and dirty? Because I’m more in the mood to take our time today,” kiss, he pulled back to look Sirius in the eye, his nose scrunched, a little bit teasing, “Oui?”

God, the look that Sirius gave him then.

“How about it huh? Can you get through this day? We’ll go, we’ll play nice, and you’ll have some time to think about what exactly you want me to do to you tonight.” 

“Yes, fuck,” he said, rushing out like he’d been waiting to say it, but hadn’t wanted to stop Remus from talking.

“Good.” Kiss. “Now come on,” he said, pulling Sirius to his feet and toward the closet.

“Actually,” he said, turning to stop Sirius with a hand to his chest.

“God, Re, you and your ‘actually’s today. You’re gonna kill me.” 

A smile, and then he stepped closer, right into Sirius’s space, his clothed chest against bare skin. What little air there was between them heated, as if Remus could feel the blood rushing through Sirius’ body from where he stood. Hot, for him. 

“Wait here.”

Sirius froze, standing naked in front of his lover because Re had asked him to. 

Remus loves Sirius’s power. He loves to go to his hands and knees for him, arch his back and feel a hand holding him there, pressing down as he’s fucked. Sirius grabbing at him and fucking like he himself will break apart if he doesn’t, break right apart. Re loves it when he fucks, and fucks, and fucks because he knows that Sirius will break apart and he wants it to be inside of him. And he knows that Sirius needs to be inside him too, when it happens; he needs Remus to contain him, to catch him when he falls.

He loves when Sirius rides him, high after a win or a hard practice, when he spends the rest of his energy ‘taking it, oh god yeah that’s right baby, you’re taking me so well,’  leaning back and bracing himself on Re’s legs, his posture open and accepting. When he wants it, feels like he’s earned it, and he lets himself have it. 

Remus loves these things, but goddamn does he love to be gentle with Sirius, loves pressing affection into every bit of his skin. He loves that Sirius lets him. 

Remus went to the closet, and came back with a garment bag and a dress shirt laid over his arm, a tie draped around his own shoulders, in one hand a pair of fresh underwear, socks, an undershirt, a belt; in the other a pair of black dress shoes. He set it all on the bed, then turned to Sirius.

“‘Montre moi?’ remember?”

‘Show me.’ Watching each other over a phone call.

Sirius fucking remembered. There was a bit of a glint in Sirius’ eye and he adjusted his posture, stood straight and open. 

[He knew he was attractive, but the only person he let make him feel beautiful was Remus, and it gave him the confidence to stay like this. Locker rooms and team showers his whole life, he’d spent a good deal of time without clothes on around other people. Doing this made him feel actually, truly naked.]

“I’m going to cover you up, ok? Put you together. And later I’m going to take you apart. But this first. Yes?”

Sirius’s eyes changed, darkened. “Yes.”

Remus sank to his knees. He pulled the underwear up Sirius’ legs, tucked him safely away. He lifted each of Sirius’s feet to pull on the socks, hands gentle on the backs of his calves. Pants next (‘Good thing this pair is dark, isn’t it? Don’t wanna give the game away.’). Belt, left open for now. He tied Sirius’s shoes. 

Remus stood; Sirius’s eyes had changed again, now so tender it almost hurt to look, like couldn’t believe this was happening. 

He pulled the shirt over Sirius’s shoulders and started in on the buttons. He could see Sirius’s hands clench, unclench, trying so hard to keep still, knowing Remus wanted him to. “Tragic really. A crime to cover your chest like this. An absolute,” kiss, “travesty.” Re tucked in the tails of his shirt, fastened his belt. Closed the buttons on the cuffs of each sleeve, letting his touch linger on Sirius’s hands. 

(Not quite holding, but close enough.) 

He flipped Sirius’s collar up & tied his tie slowly, letting Sirius’s gaze linger on how his hands were working the silk.

The suit coat last, pulling the button home, before letting himself look up. 

Sirius’ eyes were a little misty now, his mouth was open.

Re reached up to tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear, cupped his cheek. Kiss. 

“Wanted to take care of you. Thank you for letting me, baby.”

Remus wondered if the effect of calling Sirius ‘baby’ would ever fade. He hoped it wouldn’t. Right then it seemed to wake every bit of Sirius up, make him accept the challenge of waiting. 

Looks like they were going to have been looking at you all night, wanting you to fuck me over the nearest surface and having to hold back sex tonight.

Could be worse. 

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 24*

Alright I REFUSE to make this story any longer, so the next chapter IS the finale, I swear to you.

This is just one more little loose end I wanted to throw in, maybe it'll come back around the epilogue. Who knows?! I know.

I would have started the "Wedding Day" here but I really wanted it to be it's own chapter, so this is kinda short and I'm not gonna lie if I have to I will make the last chapter 20 pages long to fit the ending in. That being said I have some stuff to do tomorrow night and work the next night so I may or may not split up writing the last chapter between those and post it late Sunday or Monday.

It's worth it I promise! I'll make it worth it.

Part 23

Finale!!

Tag List

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@objection-argumentative

-------

The next day Rafael asked you to come by his office once again, making you nervous. Especially when you showed up to the Mayor and a Lawyer to greet you along with Rafael.

“Pinguino,” Rafael smiled as he met you at the door with his arms open wide pulling you into a kiss.

“....More interviews?” You whispered as you eyed the two other men.

“Actually, they haven’t told me what they’re doing here yet,” Rafael whispered back as you both walked over to the men sitting at Rafael’s desk. Rafael pulled another chair around to his side so you could sit next to him. He had a feeling this would take a while.

“So...gentlemen,” Rafael cleared his throat. “What’s this about?”

“Well Barba it’s about your wedding,” The mayor replied.

“...Why am I not surprised..?” He shook his head with a laugh.

“Actually Mr. Barba I think you’ll find this visit different from others the mayor here has sprung on you thus far,” His lawyer answered.

“...And that would be because…?” Rafael raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Because Mr. Fenkell here says that I owe you financial compensation for all you’ve been doing for me,” The mayor replied rather gruffly as he crossed his arms like a petulant child being called into the principal’s office.

“...Excuse me?” Rafael looked at both of them with confusion.

“Well Mr. Barba, I’m surprised you haven’t either realized or brought up the fact that the situation that you’re in is called ‘quid pro quo’,” The lawyer explained.

“Yes I know what ‘quid pro quo’ is counselor, we went to the same law school,” Rafael snarked. “And I graduated with higher honors than you,”

“Barba I’m here trying to help you out, I don’t know why you’re lashing out at me,” The lawyer now crossed his arms.

“Baby,” You put a hand on his. “Just let the man talk,”

“Right,” He nodded reluctantly. “Go on,”

“Like I was saying,” Mr. Fenkell pulled out papers from his briefcase. “I assume you and your fiancée here have been going along with the Mayor’s requests for fear of losing your job, correct?”

“I mean, not mine per say,” Rafael shrugged. “THAT would be illegal,”

“Right,” Mr. Fenkell nodded. “But everything he’s done thus far involving you and your fiancé's likeness entitles you to royalties, and dues for services,”

“Well, that is true,” Rafael nodded. “I’ve been so preoccupied with everything else I haven’t even stopped to think--”

“Which is exactly why I’m here,” Mr. Fenkell cut him off. “I figured a competent lawyer like yourself would realize when all the dust settles, that you were indeed entitled to a sum of money, and would therefore sue the Mayor after the fact,”

“Wow, that’s a lot of assuming on your part sir,” You laughed softly. “You really think Rafael is that shit of a--”

“I mean he is right,” Rafael finished for you.

“...Or I’m just an idiot,” You muttered.

“No, baby you’re not an idiot,” Rafael took your hand. “But we are entitled--YOU are entitled for some kind of compensation for all that you’ve done for the mayor--for me,”

“I thought my compensation was getting to marry you,” You smiled sweetly.

“Aww,” Mr. Fenkell remarked, causing an eye roll from the mayor.

“Right so--” Mr. Fenkell began laying papers filled with legal jargon on the desk in front of you and Rafael.

“This contract states that once we settle on a number, you won’t try and collect more from the mayor with some random claim like ‘emotional distress’ during your wedding, or events thereafter due to all of this,”

“...Trauma?” You couldn’t help but laugh. “You think that after everything I went through, I would classify this as trauma?”

“I mean theoretically you could, Ms. Y/L/N,” He nodded. “The emotional stress of reliving your trauma and trying to plan a wedding while on display for the whole city must be taking a toll on you right now, is it not?”

“...Well it wasn’t until you said it like that,” You muttered.

“Dammit Maxwell I told you, they were perfectly fine with--” The mayor began to pitch a fit.

“Oh no no no,” Rafael wagged a finger at the mayor. “Just because she’s ignorant of the--”

“Excuse you?” You crossed your arms at Rafael’s condescending tone.

“I mean, just because she doesn’t realize or recognize the emotional stress she’s under doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have it, and doesn’t deserve compensation” He looked to you apologetically while he re-worded the statement. You gave him an approving nod.

“Right well this is what this is for--”

“And what kind of price tag have you put on my fiance's feelings, counselor?”

“Well if you’ll peruse the contract, counselor…” Mr. Fenkell pointed to the bottom of the paper.

“This contract blah blah blah, no further seeking monetary blah blah blah…” Rafael spoke out loud as he scanned the document. Then suddenly, his eyes widened and he stopped reading, looking at you then Mr. Fenkell then the Mayor.

“...A million dollars?” He raised his eyebrow, skeptical.

“...What?” You gasped.

“....Each,” He added with a smile as he handed you the paper. You didn’t know a lot of the words, but in plain black and white you read: “...In the form of one million dollars per plaintiff,”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” You said louder than you intended, but that was insane.

“That’s insane,” You said out loud. “I don’t need that kind--”

“Baby,” Rafael stopped you and pulled you slightly away from the mayor and his lawyer. “I know that you get antsy when good things happen to you, but you deserve this,”

“For what?!” You hissed. “For taking a few photos? For letting a camera crew in a church? Rafael I just--”

“...But think of everything before that, carino,”

“What, Nevada? That--” You shook your head.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Rafael finished.

“...Well it wasn’t the mayor’s fault either, Raffi,” You nodded at the mayor.

“But he is exploiting you for it,” Rafael pointed out.

“....True,” You nodded.

“Excuse you two, but I--” The mayor began to rant again.

“And if I may add,” Mr. Fenkell jumped in. “While Mr. Barba was worried about his job, you also had reason to be worried about it as well. Being as he is your only means of support,”

“Right now,” You quickly added.

“....Right,” Mr. Fenkell gave you a side eye. “Currently,”

Clearly this douchebag thought what everyone else must be thinking. That you were just marrying Rafael for his money. So that you could be a ‘kept’ woman. Well, he was about to learn that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Alright then,” You finally said. “Then I want my share to go to Rafael, if we’re going to be married it’s his anyway,”

“No no no no, Nuh-uh,” Rafael shook his head. “Your share is your share,”

“...But I don’t want you to think that I’ve got some... ‘escape money’,” You gave him a sad look.

“Escape money?” He laughed. “Baby I told you, I think the last thing I should be worried about is you leaving me,”

“....Also true,” You nodded with a soft smile. You sure as hell had not gotten this far working this hard to ‘get’ Rafael to just give him up. Ever.

“Okay then, do I tell you where I want the money to go or do I do it myself?” You asked Mr. Fenkell.

“...You already have plans for it?” Mr. Fenkell asked you. “...Didn’t you just say you didn’t want it? Why would you--”

“Just answer the question,” You said flatly.

“I mean Mr. Barba could just draw up the contracts and paperwork for you to transfer your funds wherever you--”

“But Mr. Barba is my husband, not my lawyer,” You cut him off. “...And I’d like to keep that way,” You looked over at who Rafael looked at you in confusion.

"Not Mixing business and pleasure," You smirked.

“Right,” Mr. Fenkell nodded as pulled out a legal pad and a pen. “Well I can make a list of where you want to divert the funds and we’ll go from there,”

“Okay,” You took a deep breath. “Well, first of all-- obviously,” You took Rafael’s hand. “I want to pay off the rest of my time at Julliard,”

“That’s unnecessary, carino--”

“Yeah I know you say that Rafael, but I was going there before I met you and it’s not your respon--”

“It’s already paid for, in full,” He spoke over you.

“...What?” You asked him with a breathy voice. When did he have time to do that?! WHY-wait.

“But I’m going to need an extra semester since I’m taking the rest of this one off,” You said softly as you glanced at the other two in shame. You still felt guilty about Rafael having to basically babysit you for the past few weeks.

“Yeah I figured that.” He nodded with a smile, stroking your cheek. “It’s all taken care of, carino,”

“...Alright fine then I want to pay it back,” You insisted.

“No,” He shook his head. “Absolutely not,”

“Rafael come on--”

“NO,” He repeated sternly. “I won’t take it,”

“....Alright, fine,” You rolled your eyes. “Then I want a chunk to go to abuela--”

“No I have them covered too,” He shook his head. “And they are definitely NOT your responsibility. And before you say next that you want it to go to Maria, she will never accept it. We're too proud of a people," He smiled teasingly.

“...Fine,” You sighed in frustration. “THEN I want a chunk of it to go to opening a drama center,” You crossed your arms and looked at Rafael. “Any objections to that, counselor?”

“...A drama center?” He looked at you curiously.

“Look,” You took both of his hands. “I know you couldn’t-- your mom didn’t want you---” You took another breath, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “...You had to give up your dream to take care of your family,”

“Carino…” He took your hand.

“And my parents, they spent all the money we had on dance lessons, acting lessons, all of it. On ME. Just so that I could live my dream,” You continued. “Kids should be able to dream their dreams without their parents having to worry about money to do so,”

“But...your dream, Y/N. You want to be on Broadway. How are you gonna fit--” He started to speak but you were nowhere near done with your speech.

“Baby my dream was selfish,” You shook your head. “I wanted to be famous for the wrong reasons. To be adored by the world, to be loved by everyone. But, now I know the only person’s love I care about, is yours,” You stroked his face.

“If I open this place then I can still use my talents as a teacher, helping kids like us. I told your mom that when I met you, you made me a better person, that you made me want to be better. I want that to be true. I need that to be true,” You finally finished with a small smile, tears lined Rafael’s eyes.

“You are the best person I know, mi amor,” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think the center is a great idea,”

“Good,” You smiled. “And….I want to name it the Y/L/N-Barba Drama Center,”

“....Well obviously after you,” He nodded.

“No,” You shook your head. “After you. And my parents. Because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have found you, and you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted,”

“I love you,” He beamed at you as he kissed you deeply.

“...And on that note,” You turned back to Mr. Fenkell who looked wildly uncomfortable by your little cutesy side conversation.

“I want the rest to be split between a savings account for me, and the other half into a trust,”

“A trust?” Mr. Fenkell asked as he wrote down your wishes.

“A trust for our children,” You smiled at Rafael. “My parents spent so much money so that I could live my dream. I think it’s only fair I do the same for them; especially when I have the means to do it,”

“See those redneck shithead Jersians have no idea what they’re talking about,” He pressed his forehead against yours. “You are not selfish, not at all,”

“Thanks to you,” You pressed your own forehead against his like a love head butt.

“....Okay, so is there anywhere else you’d like it to go, Ms. Y/N?” Mr. Fenkell said rather loudly, trying once again to remind you there were other people in the room. People who were not amused with your disgustingly cute conversations.

“Um, no I think that’s good,” You nodded.

“Split up mine the same way, Max,” Rafael added.

“Rafael you don’t need to--” You started to protest but he put a finger to your mouth.

“I have money,” He assured you. “I have enough money to take care of us for the rest of our lives. This money should go somewhere that represents the both of us, and our love,”

“Can we please for the love of God just end this, please?” The mayor groaned. “If I have to sit here and watch you word vomit your love all over this office, I might actually vomit,”

“Right,” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Well gentlemen you know where to find us,” He grabbed the pen and signed one of the contracts then handed it to you and you did the same.

“Now if you’ll excuse us we’re going to ‘love vomit’ all over each other now,” He smirked as he handed back the papers. Mr. Fenkell and The mayor nodded as they walked out.

“Well, what do you want to do now?” Rafael wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“As tempting as that sounds, I have another request mi amor,” You played with the hair on the back of his knuckles with a soft voice.

“Anything for you pinguino,”

“Well I mean, you have some pull over there,” You nodded outside towards the courthouse that was attached to the DA's office by a hallway.

“...Why, do you need parking tickets dismissed or something? Did I agree to marry a felon?” He teased you.

“No,” You giggled. “But I would like to skip the ‘name changing’ line,” You pulled him closer as his smile grew bigger.

“I don’t think that’s what they call it, but I appreciate the sentiment,” He kissed you as you both walked towards the door of his office and out into the lobby.

“We’ll be back, Tommy,” He told his assistant.

“Right sir,” He nodded.

“This way to the ‘name changing line’, pinguino,” He smirked as you walked down the hall towards the courthouse.

------

--An Hour Later--

You and Rafael walked out of the courthouse and down the steps hand in hand as you pulled the two papers from his hands. One was a marriage license, and one was a form that was filled with boring legal jargon but at the bottom was printed: “Legal Name: Mrs. Y/F/N Barba,” with your new signature on the dotted line.

“Mrs. Rafael Barba,” You smiled as you looked at the paper.

“Oh no no no,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh. “That sounds like you’re my property, pinguino,”

“True,” You nodded with a teasing smile.

“...So why the sudden urgency to change your name, carino?” He asked as you walked down the street hand in hand. “Not that I’m complaining. I'd be lying if I said just looking at your name with my last name makes me giddy,”

“Giddy?” You gave him a look.

“Yeah, I said it. Giddy,” He laughed.

“...I don’t know, it was something that my therapist said,” You shrugged.

“...And what did she say?” He asked you skeptically.

“She said,” You sighed and pulled Rafael out of the flow of traffic of people.

“She said that women who don’t take their husband's last names had one foot out the door of the marriage before even going in,” You looked up at him with soft eyes. “And I don’t want you to think that I am any less than 100% sure of my love for you, and the rest of our lives together,”

“Well, first of all I’d like to see her marriage to divorce ratios based on that assumption,” He rolled his eyes. “And second-- I appreciate the sentiment baby, I really do. Just as long as you did it for you, and not because your therapist guilted you into it,”

“She didn’t,” You assured him. “I did this for me. For us,”

“Well then Mrs. Barba,” He took your hand once again with a huge smile. “Let’s grab some dinner, shall we?” He asked in a melodramatic, fancy tone.

“We shall, Mr. Barba,” You answered in the same tone, making both of you giggle like school kids.

Now all that was left to do was actually get married!

[janiedean]

I came from a country where being gay is not illegal but still very badly seen so what Eric did to me came off as spoiled and privileged. Nigerian men risk their lives every time they try to live and he just comes on a holiday risk for nothing and get a high out of it like... I get he is a poc in uk so racism but he is still privileged in respect to Nigerian living there and it felt like when tourists do all they want and use foreign countries as a eat pray love playground for adrenaline and Deep Moments

thanks for having partially confirmed to me one thing i didn’t quite know how to articulate and again i don’t… right with the premise that ofc not being poc and/or lgbt myself so my opinion is worth what it’s worth i felt like not only it made eric come off as privileged and not quite realizing it - or if it was the target then it wasn’t well written nor did it come across well - the points that imvho are not well put in this entire narrative are the following

let’s say one target was ‘we want eric to reconnect with the nigerian part of his heritage and realize that being gay in the uk is a privileged position in comparison to being gay in nigeria’: there is a single moment where he feels unsafe on the car but then he goes into the bar and it was played as… like THRILLING WILL WE GET CAUGHT OR NOT but i didn’t perceive that he felt in danger or like he realized exactly what he was facing

the whole family reconnection part was like… his mom lied about her husband bc family peace and kind of forces him to not be out bc she fears for his safety so like now unless i remember wrong eric has been out/never felt like he didn’t have to be since the show started so it should have a) given him insight re how it feels to NOT being able to be out b) let his mom connect with him on having to lie abt your significant other part c) concluded with at least a hint he could come out to nigerian family and like… point b) was more or less explored, c) was hinted bc he talked to his grandma abt adam but a) felt ABSOLUTELY missing because he comes back and everything he seems to gather from it is I WANT TO GO TO BARS BECAUSE I CAN? and most of all……. going through a) should have made him more sympathetic to adam’s struggles and instead it seemed like he deduced ‘oh since in nigeria it’s illegal then it makes no sense he’s taking so much time’ like…? it’s… a pretty self centered take to get out of this entire experience and if it was a check your privilege storyline then good but… it didn’t feel like that was how they framed honestly and why talking abt adam to the grandma if he’s gonna dump him???? 

now the eat pray love thing you mentioned is… i mean i felt like it was along those lines but as stated couldn’t be sure re my take but again my issue is with how they went at it, bc you CAN do that narrative if you clearly frame it as ‘we like eric and he’s a swell guy but he’s not free from that kinda behavior in light of the fact that living in the uk gives him automatic privilege wrt being out so we’re going to explore how he deals with it and it might be badly but then he learns from it and checks his privilege’ like it’s smth that can happen and everyone in this show has been shitty wrt smth at some point which is good bc it means everyone is written realistically… i’m not sure the narrative said THAT but it didn’t look like even the writers knew bc it was all over the place?? and i mean… i get that this show has realistic teenagers which means they can behave like petty assholes but like it was rushed, badly explained, not overt re wtf they wanted to do with this storyline and it’s not clear if eric even cares at the end?? and thats ooc anyway bc the eric we saw until this point isn’t… that callous or dismissive? and it never seemed to me like they wanted to write him as positive char that progressively gets less sympayhetic so honestly this entire plotline looks stupid

like the thing is at the end of it: - has eric reconnected to his nigerian heritage/found a way to balance it with his uk background? doesn’t seem to me like he did - has eric concluded anything re telling the nigerian side of his family that he’s out? no - has eric gained some actual insight from his experience that’s not ‘I want to go to bars because I can and I have no patience for someone who needs to take it slower’? doesn’t seem to me like he did - has eric realized that adam not being ready to tell his own mom stuff was a sort of parallel situation to his own mother not being ready to tell her mom stuff and like... if eric’s own mom lied about her partner to her family for years and still wasn’t ready to do it then why is giving adam a bit more time to tell his own mom especially given his less than stellar background re accepting himself and coming out such a hardship? no and we just don’t know basically this entire plotline could have gone a bunch of different places that were interesting/could have caused strong conflict/interesting storytelling but it didn’t do any of these things and fell back on like... cheap drama for the sake of it and honestly idt it was very sensitive wrt anything included in it which honestly strikes me as odd bc if sex ed ever did one thing right was treating sensitive subjects well without dancing around it or making things sugarcoated and still letting the characters not be cardboards so I’m very very perplexed about it and I just hope they plan to reveal wtf they wanted it to be next year because honestly I don’t know what it wanted to be and if they didn’t make it clear it’s not good writing - which until now they had in spades, therefore....

like, there’s nothing... narratively wrong in ‘I want to show that character X who faces racism and homophobia in the UK would have privilege wrt being able to be out/live his sexuality without shame in the UK and not in the country his family comes from and he has no idea because he hasn’t entertained that thought and he might come off as unpleasant or incapable of immediately getting it while that happens’, but the thing is that in this specific narrative it’s not clear whether eric got it or if he didn’t bc teenagers are shallow and don’t get it (which..... I mean the teens in this show aren’t exactly shallow like that so that doesn’t really hold up) or if he’s having trouble processing it or if the trip shook his entire world (didn’t seem like it) so like... I should hope next season it’s addressed what they want this thing to be because honestly idk and I don’t particularly like the direction it took

this adding that anyway again the way they broke eric and adam off like that makes the whole S2 finale look sour and eric come off like an asshole also wrt rahim because I mean, one thing is ‘eric has been in love with adam/has liked adam best all along but adam wasn’t around and he liked rahim so he gave it a shot but rahim wasn’t it for him so when adam does the great love gesture for him in front of everyone he decides to leave rahim for him’ because like that sucked for rahim anyway but it also wouldn’t have been fair to him to not break it off if eric had stronger feelings for someone else (and that was clear from the get-go) and then when they get together eric puts effort in it and they go places, one thing is ‘all of that happens but then the moment they aren’t on the exact same page and/or eric realizes he doesn’t want to put the necessary effort into respecting the time adam needs to handle his things even when adam forgives him and says he’ll try to get on track with him’ and so the solution is nah let’s break up instead of putting some work into it when ngl adam has been doing 85% of that this season................. it makes him look like the moment there’s an obstacle to a relationship he’s in or his partner isn’t on the same wavelength he’d just rather break it off first instead of giving it a go and that’s not a really great look on him and as stated it makes the thing with rahim look really bad because again one thing is leaving someone you like for someone who feels like is the love of your life and another thing is leaving someone you like for someone who loves you that much but then you’ll leave them too because..... he needs time to talk to his mother and he’s not ready to be fully out when he comes from repressingyourfeelingsinternalizedhomobiphobia central? like........ dunno but it just feels sour and like nothing one would expect out of eric as he was written/developed until now so I’mma just wait to see what they do next season but it’s just not good writing all around