#like they really do not care how these traditions came 2 be. like men paid the check bc proper women weren’t supposed 2 have jobs & if they

[lesbianlenas]

watching the bb live feeds rn & listening to this convo i have to say. pisses me off soooo much when men complain abt being expected to pay the check/bills but at the same time don’t want the woman to pay bc it downplays their masculinity. bc what it RLLY is is that men enjoy having economic power over women & paying for things bc she cannot provide for herself feeds into this power that they then claim is just their harmless masculine ego. & the woman paying the check shows that she still has some agency on her own. men want their women to be dependent on them to trap them like economic oppression is the main reason why women are trapped in abusive relationships since they literally cannot afford to leave esp if they have kids. but like yeah it’s soooo hard to be a man and be expected to pay $50 for dinner i’m so sorry 🙄

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Last night I got some not so nice comments about me and I know it doesn’t really matter but considering I have to work on my bday tomorrow and everything is just mounting and mounting up, I don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing. It could be a lot or a little. But thankful to have those who care, you guys, cheering me on.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went on like nothing had changed. It hadn’t. You weren’t leaving to marry some stranger. Some outdated prince in his crumbling castle. You studied the past, you didn’t want to live in it.

You went to class. Numb. Your anger slaked away as you jotted your notes and tried to ignore the tugging in your chest. Three classes, a coffee in between the second and the third, then you were due at the bookstore for the closing shift.

It was late enough in the year that the customers weren’t so many. You paced the aisles and asked students if they needed help. Few did as they perused the shelves and wandered, almost aimlessly so. Danica was on the till, though you took turns between sorting through the table of discount paperbacks left disordered by curious shoppers.

Only twenty minutes before close and you were near the back of the store, sweeping. Your path was blocked however as you turned in the far aisle. That man, Mr. Barnes, stood by the wall of rucksacks and hoodies, pretending to be interested. Given the fine cut of his suit and the polish of his shoes, you doubted he needed or wanted the campus-branded clothing.

You kept at your work. You got closer and continued to sweep, knocking his heels with the broom as you grumbled a grizzly ‘excuse me’. He chuckled and stepped aside, turning to watch you as you tried to ignore him.

“Your highness,” He said.

“Don’t call me that,” You huffed as you lifted the dustpan and it folded up against the stick. “What are you doing here?”

“My duty.” He said lightly. “I was sent by your fiance to keep an eye on you. To bring you back to him.” He glanced around and slid a magazine from the rack. “To free you of this boring mediocrity.” He flipped through the pages. “You don’t belong here, Duchess.”

He folded back the magazine and turned it to face you. He held it out and you scowled. He waved it impatiently and you sighed as you stepped closer to look. A man, tall, blonde, austere, leaned against an expensive sports car, a mansion behind him, akin to Versailles, as he gazed nonchalantly into the camera. The headline floated beside him; ‘A King for our Times’”

You recognized him. You’d seen him, as most people had; on the news, in tabloids, on questionable gossip blogs. You’d never paid much attention to him or those royals who existed beyond their means. You scoffed and shrugged.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Your lip curled.

“Your feelings don’t really matter,” He closed the magazine and put it back. “The contract stands.”

“You came all this way on the back of a paper signed by a dead king of a dead nation?” You shook your head. “Is your king that desperate?”

His jaw squared and he swallowed. “You think this makes you better than him? This… existence?”

“A life I earned,” You retorted. “I doubt he or you know very much about that.”

“And how much do you know of duty? Obligation? A purpose beyond your own selfish needs?”

“Selfish?” You rolled your eyes. “Sir. We’re closing. You need to leave.”

He tilted his head and grinned. His tongue poked out along his lip and he chuckled.

“Your highness,” He bowed his head. “Until tomorrow.”

He stepped closer and you turned to let him past.

“Don’t bother,” You said to his back as you watched him near the end of the aisle. “I’m not going. Tell him to find someone else.”

He stopped and pushed back his shoulders. He said nothing, just stood there a moment before he continued on. The electronic ding signaled his departure and you let out the breath that had stuck in your chest. 

You clutched the broom and dustpan in one hand and grabbed the magazine from beside you. You went to the counter where Danika was balancing the till.

“Hey,” You leaned the broom and pan against the counter. “I wanna buy this.”

“Just take it.” She shrugged. “With our discount, it might as well be free.”

You nodded and took it, bending it under your arm.

“Anything else besides cleaning?” You asked.

“Nah,” She counted out the last of the pennies. “Go on. I’ll close up.”

👑

You sat on your bed, the glow of your small lamp the only light. After an hour of tossing and turning, you surrender to wakefulness. You stared at the magazine, the glossy cover reflected the light beside you. You sank back into your pillows and picked at the pages until you found the one. You opened the magazine and stared at the man; the king; the strange. Fiance?

He was handsome, sure, but even in a picture, he seemed haughty. There was an arrogance to his shoulder, the way he leaned on the white hood, how he appeared to look down his nose at the lens even while standing on the same level. You flipped the page and began to read. 

A short blurb introduced him as the King of Astrania, once the playboy prince, but, as the article claimed, matured by the throne. You recalled the gossip of those days, yourself barely a teen then. One night, he had a socialite on his arm, the next an actress, next a singer, a model…

‘You’ve done so much. Anything still on the list?’ The interviewer lobbed another softball question.

‘Lots.’ The king answered. ‘I think my mother would be relieved to hear me say I think it’s past time I found a wife. A queen.’

‘You’re going to break a lot of hearts, your majesty.’

‘I’ve had my fun. Maybe too much. If I’m to serve my people, I’ll need someone at my side.’

You lowered the magazine and frowned at the ceiling. You pushed the pages off your chest and rolled over to turn off the lamp. You pulled the pillow over your head and squeezed your eyes shut. The thought of being bound to man so opposite yourself made you want to scream but you were too tired for that.

👑

You still didn’t know what to say to your mother. Your whole life was a lie. Not a lie you hated which was worse because the truth threatened to undo it all. When you went to the kitchen to get your coffee, she was there, waiting, a mug ready for you. You didn’t say more than thanks as you took and returned to your room.

You readied yourself for another day. Thursday. The last two days felt like weeks.  You packed up your bag and left through the front door, avoiding your mother who watched you from the kitchen. What were you supposed to tell her? It’s okay you lied to me, it’s okay you don’t want to fight, it’s okay to barter me away before I was even born? None of it was okay.

You reached the end of the walk and a man in a black suit stepped into your path. You stopped short and tried to pass him. Another man, in the same suit, black jacket, black tie, black everything, blocked you again. You turned the other way and found yourself box in by Mr. Barnes. He crossed his arms as he smiled at you.

“You’re off early.” He said.

“I have class.” You sneered and once more tried to make your way around the men. They moved with you, forming a wall. “Get out of my way.”

“The king wants me back before the end of the week. I can’t return empty-handed.”

“I don’t care what your king wants. I have class, work--”

“The jet is charted for three,” He checked his watch. “We have lots of time to pack.”

“You’re not--” You sputtered. “No.”

You looked back at your house. Your mouth stood in the door as she watched. She looked sad, broken. You grimaced at her.

“I told you I’m not going,” You tried to shove past Barnes and the other men grabbed your arms, your bag flopping to the ground. “Hey, let me go.”

“Your highness, my king did permit us reasonable force in our duty,” Barnes said evenly. “And to this point, I have restrained from it.”

“Hey,” Your mother swept through the door and stormed towards the men. “Don’t! Let her go! You’ll hurt her.”

“There is a seat for you on the jet too, Princess,” Barnes offered. “It’s only fitting the mother of the bride should attend the wedding.”

“Get off!” You kicked out and Barnes moved out of the way. “Off!”

“Astrania favours tradition.” He continued. “And it is not unheard for brides to be brought in chains. I’d rather not be so medieval.”

“I don’t wanna go! No!” You continued to struggle. Your mother grabbed at one of the men and was swiftly shaken off. “Stop!”

“Get her inside. The princess, too.” Barnes order.

One man hooked his arms through yours and held them behind you as the other seized your mother. You were turned and forced back down the walk, growling and grunting as you were pushed up the porch steps. Your mother whimpered as she was held by the back of her neck and angled through the front door ahead of you.

Inside, the door clattered and the thicker one was closed and locked. Barnes led the way into the living room and pointed to the couch.

“Princess,” He ordered and your mother was pushed onto the sofa. “Bring the duchess here.”

He beckoned to the hallway and strode ahead of you. Your shoulders ached as you tried and tried to wrench yourself away. Barnes looked in doors until he found your room. You were taken inside as he peered around.

“Cuff her,” He said. “Put her on the bed.”

He turned you and pushed you down onto the mattress. He released your arms as he pinned your down with his knee in your back and you reached back blindly to claw at him. He caught your wrists and held them together, securing them with a pair of thick cuffs before he got off of you. You rolled over and kicked out. Barnes caught your ankle and squeezed until you groaned in pain.

“The king would prefer a bride without a broken foot,” He warned. “But he will accommodate it, should he need to.”

He threw your leg down gruffly and nodded to the man. The other left and you sat up awkwardly, your arms trapped behind you. You stood and Barnes quickly pushed you back down.

“I’ve been nice. Patient.” He said. “But I don’t have time for this.” He pointed his finger in your place. “Perhaps your mother didn’t tell you how these things work or maybe you just didn’t listen. This isn’t a proposal, Duchess. Not a choice.”

You snapped at his finger and he drew away quickly. He smirked and scoffed and shoved you back roughly.

“Keep it up and I’ll have you strapped down.” He snarled. 

You slowly sat up, glaring at him, but didn’t go further. “Fuck you.” You spat.

His eyes rounded then he snickered again. 

“Oh, there’s a lot to work on, Duchess. That mouth, first of all,” He turned and pulled open the sliding door of your closet. “Ugh, and…” He touched a wool sweater. “And these, most of all.”

The man in black reappeared with a suitcase, the other faded leather dug up from the linen closet. He slapped it down on the bed beside you and flipped it open. He went to stand in the door, blocking it with his wide frame.

“Duchess, future queens, do not wear…” He held up a jacket. “Tweed.”

You growled, fighting the urge to kick him. You couldn’t reach and the cuffs kept you off-balance.

“We’ll take enough for the time being but… we’ll have to bring in some stylists,” He dropped an armful of clothes into the suitcase. “For…” He looked you up and down. “Everything.”

“You can’t do this,” You snarled.

“I can. I am.” He insisted as he tucked in the corners of the clothing. “That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I can do whatever I want. I have an order from the king and I have diplomatic authority. Now, I have been nice so far, I will even allow your mother to accompany you.”

“No,” You hissed. “No, leave her here.”

“Leave her?” He asked.

“It’ll be easier.” You lowered your chin. “For both of us.”

He was quiet. He nodded and stepped away. He went to the attached bathroom and returned with your pouch of essentials. 

“We can make up for whatever we forget,” He dropped it atop the open suitcase. “Anything in particular I’ve missed, duchess?”

“Beyond human decency?” You challenged.

He laughed once more and closed the suitcase. 

“It’s a long flight,” He said. “And it’ll be longer with those.” He tugged on the cuffs. “Hopefully it gives you time to think.”

He zipped up the bag and handed it to the man in black. Then he grabbed you and lifted you onto your feet. He guided you from the room with his hand on your wrists. Your mother sat, the other man staring her down, and looked over as you entered.

“Please, don’t take her. Please.” She begged as she tried to stand only to be nudged back by her watcher. “You can’t--”

“Princess, you know you can’t stop us.” Barnes said. “And your daughter has made up her mind. You will stay.” He bent to look her in the eyes. “You get your wish. Stay in your exile, pretending, playing at normalcy.”

“I’ll go,” She pleaded. “Let me go.” She leaned over and looked around him at you. “Don’t leave me here. I’ll come with you. I’ll-- I’ll-- you’re my daughter--”

“And you lied to me.” You sniffed. “You did this. Why would I want you to come?”

“I’m your mother.” She uttered.

“You’re the Princess of Ecklun. It was written there on that paper.” You sneered. “In your hand. I have to live with what you’ve done but it doesn’t mean I have to live with you.”

You turned your head up and held back the sudden wave of sadness which swelled in you. Everything you knew was just a lie. Your own mother. Your only family. She’d sold you like cattle. If she had warned you, maybe you could have stayed hidden. If she had warned you, maybe you wouldn’t be so unprepared. If she had warned you…

“Well,” You looked at Barnes. “Are we going?”

He stepped away from your mother and took your arm. “No goodbyes?”

“She signed her farewell a long time ago,” You said and turned away from her. “She’s had years to prepare for this. Years she stole from me.”

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 31

Chapter 31- Shopping

"Can we go to the High Market?" Ed asked hopefully as he bounced into the passenger seat of Roy's car.

"Brother. That place is crawling with sketchy people." Al admonished from where he was settling into the entire backseat of the car.

"We aren't going anywhere until you two put on your seatbelts." Roy admonished, shooting a glance over at both boys witheringly.

There was clanking from the backseat as Alphonse hurried to comply.

Ed blew out a breath and rolled his eyes.

"I don't see why I gotta wear a seat belt. My automail can't be broken. And Al's a suit of armor- nothing can hurt him!"

"No, but Alphonse could hurt us. If there was a crash and Al were to get thrown forward, we could be hurt. And you might have automail, Ed, but you're not invincible."

Ed crossed his arms. "It's stupid. Don't tell me what to do."

"Oh, so you think I'm being bossy, huh?" Roy asked.

"Ed, just put it on." Al piped up from the backseat. There was a click. Al was too large to fit the middle seat seat belt, so he had taken 2 seat belts from either side of the backseat and fastened them both over himself in an x-like fashion.

"I'm tired of old people trying to tell us what to do, Al!" Ed protested.

"It's for your own good, you know." Roy supplied patiently. "Seatbelts reduce the risk of death by 45% and cut the risk of serious injury to 50%(1). They also hold you in place so you don't get ejected in a crash. 3 of 4 people who get ejected from a vehicle don't survive(1). You wouldn't want to do that to Al, would you?"

Ed was silent.

"Remember that car crash was saw in Bresh, brother?" Al added. "We couldn't do anything to help. Everyone was gone. All we could do was cover up the mess with blankets so that the teenager's families wouldn't see them. Maybe if they'd been wearing seat belts it'd have been different."

Ed clicked his seatbelt into place. "Fine, whatever. Let's get going we have shopping to do."

Roy turned the key in the ignition and started out.

"So- does anyone want anything specific from the store?" Roy asked.

"Waffles." Ed said happily. "And soft pretzels."

"Scented candles." Al added.

"You're gonna polish yourself with that flowery smelling wax again aren't you?" Ed spoke up.

"It's the closest thing I can get to deodorant, brother." Al sounded slightly hurt.

"I know. Get some of those cucumber melon candles-I like the smell of those." Ed said quietly.

"Okay." Al brightened significantly.

"I wanna go to the High Market too." Ed piped up, looking over at Roy.

"For what?" Roy was wary. The high market sold useful things, but it was also a backdoor apothecary that sold unregulated pharmaceuticals and other odd, possibly illegal substances in the alley under the guise of traditional medicine.

"They got those cookies that have your future written inside them!" Ed looked childish with excitement.

"You need a cookie to tell you that?" Roy scoffed. "I could tell you for free. 'you will be short and miserable'."

Al sniggered from the backseat and Ed frowned. "Normally I would yell at you for that, but I wanna go to the High Market. So can we go?"

"Yes. IF you two stay close to me and we don't take long."

"Score!" Ed pumped his fist in the air, looking excited.

"What do you want to get shopping, Colonel?" Al asked.

Mustang shrugged. "Trash bags, milk, butter, eggs, bread, jam."

"Boring stuff." Ed added.

Roy pulled into the shopping center. "You say that, but I don't see you complaining when we eat dinner."

"Can we get Mac n' cheese?"

"Yes, we can get a few boxes."

"Can we get frozen burritos and ramen?"

Roy wrinkled his nose. Ever since Ed moved in with them, he'd realized the kid seemed to live off microwaved food.

"Yes, a couple. But you need to eat a vegetable every once in awhile." he got out of the car, and Ed did the same.

"Well excuse me for being too busy to go harvest nature's bounty." Ed scoffed.

"Guys!" Al called from the back, muffled by the car doors.

"What's up, Al?" Roy turned around to see Al still strapped into the back seat, his large hands struggling with the seatbelts.

"Can you unbuckle me? I'm stuck!?"

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"Okay, this actually isn't so bad." Roy had his list nearly halfway completed. Ed insisted on standing on the bottom rack of the cart and holding onto the back to ride it, but Al was pushing, so Roy couldn't complain. And Al was tall enough to reach everything on the top shelf.

"Ed- name something that isn't microwaved that you'll eat."

"Peanut butter sandwhich."

"Done." Roy grabbed a jar of peanut butter off the shelf and tossed it into the cart.

"Fruits and vegetables you like?"

"Fruitsnacks!" Ed looked excited, pointing at a large box. "Those are the best, Mom used to get those for me!"

"Yeah I remember those." Al sounded excited as well.

It melted Roy's resolve. Just a little. He picked up the box. It said it was amde with real fruit juice. That was close enough to a fruit, wasn't it? If Trisha Elric had bought them for the boys, they couldn't be horrible.

"Okay. Fine. But REAL fruits, now."

"I don't have time for real fruits. I'm constantly running around to headquarters or the library." Ed complained.

Roy couldn’t argue with the kid. He was pretty busy. But still, that wasn't an excuse to live out of vending machines.

"Alright, so how about a grab and go snack. You like applesauce?"

"Yeah."

Roy snagged a box of applesauce pouches and threw it into the cart, then kept going. He just had to make sure Ed didn't realize they gave those applesauce pouches to toddlers commonly. Because he doubted Ed would care enough to grab a spoon or a more traditional applesauce cup.

"What about yogurt?" Roy asked.

Ed narrowed his eyes. "Milk." he groused from where he was holding onto the cart.

"Cheese sticks?" Roy held up the package enticingly.

"Okay." Ed acquiesced. "It doesn't taste like milk."

They were just about done shopping- the only thing left was to get coffee.

Roy started off towards the aisle but stopped when he realized Al wasn't following pushing the cart.

The boy was looking at a duster in the cleaning aisle. "Throw it in the cart, Al. I'll dust your armor off tonight if you want." he said. Al couldn't really eat, but it wasn't fair to exclude the boy from shopping.

"Thank you!"

"It's nothing. Let's get going. I want to hit the yellow market before it gets too late.".

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

It got dark early in the fall. So even though it was only a little after 5, dusk was setting in on the city as he and the boys parked alongside the street in the nicer part of town and walked towards the yellow market.

Ed had an excited bounce in his step at the prospect of fortune cookies, and Al was hoping to find stray cats.

The warm glow of streetlights faded as they entered the rougher neighborhood of town- a block or so was dark, before the hanging string lights and colorful candle lanterns lit up the street.

The barren streets of central melted into a new landscape of men shouting about wares in a Xingese tongue. Men with cone-shaped hates and women in flowing garb, as well as children and stray dogs ran though the streets, adding to the commotion and the smells and sights of the market.

People were selling vibrant flowers, roast seafood on sticks, and a variety of meat and pastries.

One market stall had a variety of little animals made of colored paper, and Alphonse stopped to look.

The children stopped running and playing with their sticks and hoops when they saw Edward and stared, whispering among themselves.

Roy wondered if they recognized him as the Fullmetal Alchemist or not. Normally children were enthralled by Alphonse and his armor, not Edward...

A cold wind blew, rustling the paper lanterns and scattering the children. They took off down various alleyways and down the street.

It unnerved Roy, for some reason.

Ed had found the shop he was looking for- an old woman selling the cookies he wanted.

She shakily bagged them up for him and they chatted as he got out his money to pay her.

Alphonse squatted to set a stray cat near the mouth of an alley.

The quiet suddenly struck Roy as odd. The market callers had stopped shouting about their wares and people had stopped chattering. Mothers took their children and went to other stalls further away from them.

A woman ran into Roy and fell, scattering her things on the ground.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, her angular Xingese eyes drawing him in.

"No, not a problem at all." Roy bent to help her pick up her scattered items, though he couldn't stop the hairs of unease form standing up on the back of his neck.

As they both picked up the fallen items from the ground, the woman leaned closer to him, eyes wide. "You must leave now. They will come for the boy. Men offer lot of money for him. Children go get men- they take boy."

Roy froze for a moment, before he nodded, handing her one of the items he'd been picked up and straightening.

"Edward! Al!"

Ed had paid for his cookies- the old woman at the shop had somehow given him a large stick of candy as well and was patting him on the head.

"What?" Ed asked, looking annoyed at the interruption.

"We're going. Now." his voice left no room for argument, and Ed fell into step beside him and Al as they headed back the way they came.

"But we just got here." Ed complained.

"You got your cookies. Now let's go."

He couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched, though they got home that night without incident.

Yes- I know that in cannon the year is like 1920. I just like to imagine Roy taking his boys to walmart. I don’t know why, but it’s a balm for my soul.

Obligatory ko-fi link here; https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12 .

[jilytho]

will you accept this rose ch 2

Read below or on AO3

The Bachelor was the last reality competition show Lily had ever envisioned herself going on. Wipeout? Sure. Love it or List It? You bet. Survivor? 1000%. But The Bachelor? Never.

She watched it almost every season, of course. It was her sister Petunias favorite show so she’d grown up watching it and had started to like it. She was more into The Bachelorette but even after moving out of her childhood home and into her campus apartment with Marlene and Mary, she found herself putting it on weekly voluntarily. It became their little tradition. Monday nights, it didn’t matter what was happening in school or work or with significant others, they were to meet on the couch with large bottles of red wine and order takeaway.

They knew it was all staged and fake, of course. There was no way half of what happened wasn’t completely orchestrated by producers but that didn’t mean it wasn’t entertaining. They’d offer up their opinions, place bets on the winner, predict each cringey line, and most importantly, how they’d react to each date and situation.

You find out one of the other contestants is making up lies about another, do you tell the Bachelor, confront the liar, or stay out of it? You’re told to stick to a two drink limit per cocktail party, do you follow that, not drink at all, or sneak shots in when nobody is looking?

They treat the show like a video game, what would you do if you were orchestrating the actions, how would you act from a producer's side, from the Bachelor view, and of course, as a contestant. How would you respond when he tells you he wants someone who will stay home with their children all day. Would kissing with eyes open be a dealbreaker? Or something you can work on together. It became an interactive game show almost, and it became very easy to disassociate the contestants into characters on a scripted show instead of real people, just like them.

Their little game collapsed when Petunia came to visit one week. It was her moms idea. Have Petunia stay over at Lilys for just a night, let them go out on the town and talk Petunia wedding prep, watch The Bachelor together and bond like the old days.

She arrived at noon on Monday, an hour earlier than she was supposed to, which Lily had of course predicted. Petunia apologized profusely and insincerely for not giving Lily enough time to shower and properly clean her apartment, despite the fact that Lily had been up till 4am the previous night scrubbing the kitchen and permanently burning off skin cells with bleach.

They’d gone shopping, each dressing room filled with thinly veiled insults on Lily's figure, her hair, her style. Lunch was spent condescendingly discussing how the red meat in a burger was going to inevitably lead to Lily’s death and didn’t she know that no man liked a girl who could eat as much as they could?

Lily had sent 18 SOS texts and red wine emojis to Mary and Marlene in their group chat by the time the bill came. By the time they got home, Mary and Marlene were both waiting, wine poured and discussion topics ready to take the focus off of Lily.

They passed time as a group, chatting while Lily played a silent drinking game that Marlene had quickly caught on to. Drink at every condescending comment Lily was the focus of, drink everytime Petunia talked about how well Vernons job paid, drink everytime Petunia said Lily drank too much, drink everytime Petunia suggested no man would really care about an advanced degree. The advanced degree comments were crossing lines because Petunia knew that it wasn’t just Lily getting her masters, but all three of them. Insult her all night, fine, but insulting her friends right to their face was too much. Lily almost lashed out and kicked her out right then and there but Mary handled it gracefully by reminding Petunia that she doesn't “quite care if any men were interested, as long as women are”.

Petunia stayed silent for an amazing fifteen minutes after that.

They were able to fill the time leading up until the episode began with discussing the season thus far, the relationships and chemistry, or lack thereof. The wine was ridiculously useful in aiding her shoulders dropping and time began to pass at an acceptable rate. As soon as the episode began, Lily was able to mostly forget Petunia was there, easily falling back into her game with Mary and Marlene.

“You know that’s not how I’d handle someone like Victoria. I feel like with a person like her you really just have to-”

“Lily, would you shut up? The rest of us are actually trying to watch the show.” Petunia snapped at her, neck flipping obnoxiously to glare at her from the opposite couch.

“Actually, Petunia,” Marlene interrupted icily, “I was really interested in Lily’s thoughts. In the future, I’d prefer you not speak for me.”

“Why is she acting like she’d ever be in that situation?” Petniuan shot back, “it's not like she’d ever be on the show, she’s clearly not up to their standards.” Petunia took an obnoxious gulp of her wine, sneering over the lip of the glass.

“Any bachelor of any season would be lucky and grateful to have Lily on the show and if you think anything else you should probably just go.”

“Even if you somehow got onto the show, there is literally no man on earth that would give you a rose over any of these women.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we, Pet?” Lily drained her rather full glass and immediately unlocked her phone, googling the application process for the following season.

She didn’t know who the Bachelor was going to be, and she didn’t care, the wine mixed with Petunia's attitude was plenty of motivation and before the next commercial break Lily had already completed and submitted her application, without any proofreading.

XXX

She’d almost forgotten ever applying. She fought hard to forget every second of her time with Petunia over that visit and applying to the Bachelor seemed to be part of that.

When she’d received the email that her application had been accepted and that she’d be moving on to the next round of the interview process, she almost deleted it. They’d included a photo of who the next Bachelor was in the email, however, and something about his eyes made her hesitate. Warm and hazel, sharp jawline, deeply tanned skin, drop dead gorgeous, exactly her type. Regardless of the way her mouth dropped, and regardless of how intelligent and beautiful most of the women on the show were, she was not the kind to compete with 30 other women for one man's attention.

Her finger hovered over the trash button but she couldn't bring herself to do it, instead closing out her inbox and moving on with her day, the knowledge that it was still sitting there, waiting for her, sat in the back of her mind all day.

She was probably just going to ignore it. All day while she worked on her thesis, it taunted her, but she couldn’t bring herself to delete it and she certainly couldn’t bring herself to respond so instead it just sat.

Until she opened the mail. And right there, right on top, was Lily’s invite to Petunia's wedding. Enclosed was a note, “Lily, as you can see on your invitation, we have chosen to not give you a plus one. Since you are not currently in a serious relationship, or the relationship type, we’d much prefer to not have some stranger at our wedding who we’d have to cut out of the photos or spend money on dinner for a friend. See you then.”

That was the deciding factor. “I’ll show you relationship type,” she whispered to herself angrily as she pulled up the email again, flitting past James’s face to the response button and booking herself an interview.

Marlene and Mary both died laughing when they figured out what she had done. She’d come home, popped open a bottle of tequila, poured three shots into a juice glass and threw it back before the entire story came pouring out of her.

[mca-attack21]

The Impossible

This is my first Sherlock Holmes imagine, I hope you enjoy it. It takes place after the season four finale.

Sherlock Holmes, the first consultant detective and the last man anyone expected to be getting married. To be fair, he was not the same man he used to be. He had been changed by the people who loved him. The helped him evolve from a great man into a good one. Every person he met, every case he took, it all prepared him to allow love into his life. To allow you into his life. It was not easy, it was more than a simple deduction that he was used to. But after meeting you he knew that his greatest case ever would be figuring out how to be a man you could love. 

The beginning was simple, you were hired to watch Rosie on a regular basis. This led to a friendship with John and frequent interactions with Sherlock. Instead of being put off by his composure and intelligence you were in awe of it. Over time Sherlock would go out of his way to make sure the two of you would cross paths. Seeing you with Rosie, watching your face light up as he spoke, and hearing your laugh made him feel something that he didn’t understand. 

On a particular dull afternoon, Sherlock had made the mistake of asking about you. It didn’t take John long at all to figure out what was happening.

“You have a thing for my nanny,” he laughed.

“I certainly do not. High Functioning Sociopath remember. I don’t do love.” Sherlock replied.

“Keep telling yourself that Sherlock” John replied.

“I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you think that you are,” 

“John!”

“You should ask her out,”

“You are acting like a twelve-year-old” Sherlock shot back. It wasn’t like he hadn’t entertained the idea, but why would someone like you ever want to go out with a man like him. 

It would take three weeks for John to convince Sherlock to ask you out. He had to get coaching from both John and Mrs. Hudson and even then the entire concept seemed so foreign to him. That night he had met you at John’s house while you were babysitting Rosie. The two of you talked about his latest case. You knew that something was off and asked him about it. Eventually, with much rambling, he made it through his request. He stood silently over-analyzing every second before you had agreed. 

From there, things were interesting, to say the least. Sherlock had no idea how to be a boyfriend and it was very obvious. Luckily, you were patient and low maintenance. You would help him with cases when John was otherwise occupied. He would also stop in when you were watching Rosie. While your relationship was far from traditional, it worked. He may not have always picked up on your emotional needs, but he was there for you in ways that only he could be. His blunt and harsh words dimmed as he learned what it meant to love someone in a romantic way. He loved you in his own way, but it was precisely what you needed and you couldn’t imagine your life with anyone else.

The next step in your relationship was moving into 221 B Baker St. with Sherlock. He explained that it was convenient and cost-effective, especially since the two of you already spent so much time there. You laughed at his applied logic and agreed, excited to take the next step.

There was never a dull moment living with him between his experiments, cases, and friends. The longer you were with him, the more you realized he was like a grown puppy in constant need of attention and excitement. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, you were both always there for each other.

Mrs. Hudson was the first one to ask Sherlock if he was ever going to purpose to you. She had shipped the two of you since the first time she had seen you interact. She joked that Sherlock would not meet anyone else who adored his brain and was willing to put up with it so he’d better marry you or John and get it over with. He initially brushed off this comment, but it got him thinking. The two of you had never really talked about marriage or kids, that just wasn’t Sherlock and you understood that. Marriage was just a social construct, he found it pointless, at least he used to. Before John and Mary’s wedding.

He asked John his opinion on the matter which caught him completely off guard. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was actually considering getting married. He was so happy and helped him plan everything out.

The proposal, like the rest of your relationship, was nontraditional. You, John, and Sherlock were on a case together and it proved to be more unpredictable than Sherlock had anticipated. After momentarily escaping imminent danger, the three of you were trying to figure out your next move and he just let it slip.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n, if we make it out of this alive would you want to marry me?” he asked nonchalantly.

Before you could answer John spoke up, “Now?! We were just being shot at and you think now is the time to propose?”

“I’m sorry, is it not a good time? Would you rather me wait until after we get shot?”  he directed to his friend. 

“Sherlock-” John started.

“Yes,” you answered staring adoringly at the scene in front of you. This was your family and your life and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Yes, what?” John asked.

“Sherlock asked me a question, that is my answer. Yes.” you clarified.

“Really?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes, now can we figure out how to get out of here alive?” you added.

“Oh right, I have a plan,” Sherlock explained. 

“Of course you do,” John sighed not believing what he just witnessed.

That night ended with everyone making it out unscathed, the criminals in custody, and celebration of the engagement. When you made it back to 221 B Baker street Sherlock revealed the ring he had made for you. The two of you spent the next couple of months planning your wedding in-between cases, Sherlock was unexpectantly invested and excited. 

It was a relatively small gathering. You didn’t have much family and weren’t in contact with them. At the end of the day, it was John and Mycroft who was Sherlock’s co-best men, Rosie who was the cutest flower girl ever, Mrs. Hudson, the rest of the Holmes family, Molly, Detective Lestrade, and a few other close friends. Because you didn’t really have anyone else, you asked John to walk you down the aisle which he was honored to do. He later made a joke that you and Sherlock might as well had asked him to officiate the ceremony too.

You had both decided to write your own vows which were interesting. Sherlock went first pulling out his notes from his pocket and then deciding not to use them and speak freely instead. 

“I used to not believe in love. If you told me that I would be getting married I would have laughed at the ridiculous notion. I was logical and avoided emotions that would interfere with that. I never wanted the distraction that was love, furthermore, I didn’t believe I was capable of loving someone in a romantic way. But then I met you. I’m not going to lie and say that it was love at first sight or that I knew that we would end up together because it was not that simple. But over time I came to realize that I wanted to experience love and you. No matter how illogical, you had made an impact on my life and I wanted to explore that. Y/f/n Y/l/n you make me happy and complete in ways I can’t even comprehend. You make me want to be a better man, to be more like the man you believe that I am. So today in front of the people we love most, I vow to spend the rest of my with you, no matter where it takes us. The game is on.” he smiled.

“Oh my, how am I supposed to follow that?” you joked earning laughs from the others in attendance. 

“Okay, here it goes. Sherlock Holmes, you are one of the most brilliant and astonishing people I have ever met in my life. My life changed the moment I met you. You brought adventure, uncertainty, and excitement into my life. I know that there will never be a dull moment with the two of us. By marrying you, I realize that I am marrying science experiments in the kitchen, solving cases, and ending any chance that I had at a normal life which is perfect. I acknowledge that you are not perfect nor am I, but we are perfect for each other and that is what matters. You are everything that I never knew I needed and I love the person I am when I am with you. So today, I vow to spend the rest of my life reminding you who you are. I vow to be there for you at 2 am when the world doesn’t make sense and at 2 pm when it does. I vow to help you annoy Mycroft and to look after John and Rosie. I vow to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter where it takes us. The game is on.” you smiled reciting his last two lines.

The two of you exchanged rings and were directed to kiss which earned cheers from your friends and family. You quickly signed the papers and took the photos before adjourning to the reception that John had planned. It was nice and intimate. Your and Sherlock’s first dance was something that you would never forget. You had never realized that Sherlock could dance like that. The rest of the night was what you’d expect for a reception. You made it to the point of speeches and everyone took their turn. Mycroft’s was short and simple, he explained how he was proud of his brother for becoming the man he was and wished you luck as Sherlock was your problem now. The mood changed as it became John’s turn. His speech was so sincere and touching that it brought people to tears. When he completed, both you and Sherlock nearly tackled him in a hug.

As the night finished out, you and Sherlock prepared to leave on your honeymoon which was planned and paid for by Mycroft. You thanked everyone for coming and were on your way, knowing that John would see that everything was taken care of. You looked up at Sherlock dazed with how happy you were. This was easily the best night of your life. You couldn’t wait to see what lies in store for the two of you. After all, the game is on.

[baka-monarch]

It’s A Small World: Chapter 3: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, I Didn’t Think You Would Say ‘I Hate You’

Summary: Virgil remembers something that changed his life... who knew love could so much more painful than hate?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CUSSING, BULLYING, HEARTBREAK, MENTIONED HOMOPHOBIA

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

It was the February when Virgil was in ninth grade. The school was basically covered in a disgusting shade of pink in preparation for valentines day. Love was intoxicating the air, straight people were trying even harder than usual, and perfume and cologne were suffocating the staff, all of it making Virgil want to barf. On the day of hearts itself Virgil was half tempted to just skip school and not deal with what would inevitably be the day that the moans in the bathrooms were the loudest. Except this year... this year was different. Virgil didn’t know if after years of having a dead heart the perfume had finally infected him or if his brother, after years of trying, had finally convinced him to do something for the grotesque holiday. All Virgil knew was that he was hoping with all his might that when he’d turned in that poem to President Heather  of the student committee, that Roman really wouldn’t know it was from him.

At Heart County Highschool there was a yearly tradition. Students would have the option to write love letters to each other, either anonymously or not. Boys were supplied with blue paper to write on and girls were supplied with pink (Virgil didn’t really agree with this since it was stereotypical and excluded people who didn’t identify that way-). Once students had their letters written they would give them to the student council to deliver on valentines day. This year, Virgil’s first year of highschool, he had decided to participate, it was anonymous and he had already gotten a heat stopping crush. Virgil didn’t know how it happened, or why it happened so fast, one moment he was enjoying AP English the next he pinning on a cute theater geek that was the most popular guy at school. The day that Virgil had laid eyes on Roman Prince his heart went through an emotional whiplash as his thoughts suddenly focused on the prep and how unfairly attractive he was. So that’s why he had grabbed a sheet of blue paper, written a poem, and turned it in to be delivered anonymously. He still had every word of what he’d written and was absolutely terrified to go to school when the day they were being delivered came.

Virgil walked into his AP English class brimming with anxiety. He wrung his hands, avoided eye contact with anyone, and chewed his bottom lip hard enough that it threatened to bleed. He couldn’t stop shaking until he finally took his seat and even then he had to wrap his hoodie around himself protectively to calm him even the slightest. Once he was settled enough he glanced up to see him, Roman, then quickly averted his gaze. When class started Virgil barely paid attention as he focused on his breathing and keeping his size under control. By the time someone knocked on the door-and startled him enough to make him freeze like a cornered animal-Virgil had bitten his nails down to little stubs. Virgil watched anxiously as the teacher collected the letters and passed them out, Virgil wasn’t surprised that he didn’t any and was too busy inconspicuously watching Roman to care.  He pretended not to listen as the prep read his letters out loud, all of them being pink.

“Did you get a blue one?” Virgil’s ears perked as he heard one of the prep’s say this.

“It seems I did!” Exclaimed Roman. “I guess I was so handsome that even men couldn’t resist my charms!” All of his friends laughed and giggled as he said this. “Let’s see what this hopeless idiot wrote.” He smiled as he made everyone chuckle. Virgil flinched. He hid in his hoodie as Roman cleared his throat and began to read.

“Dear Roman Prince,

You are like an angel,

You’re voice singing melodiously,

You are like a dove,

With how you always look so graceful,

You’re eyes like emeralds,

Sparkling a green hue,

Roman prince,

You are as amazing as a star,

I will never stop being amazed by you,

I love you.”

As Roman finished reading everyone around him stared down at the paper open mouthed. For a moment Virgil felt calm, he felt okay, like he hadn’t made the biggest mistake in his life. It didn’t last long.

“Holy shit… What the fuck is wrong with this freak?” Someone joked and everyone laughed with them. 

“A guy writing poetry? What’s this world coming to?”

“”You are an angel” uhg, I could barf!”

“I’m so sorry you had to read this shit! And from a guy no less!”

“Guys guys.” Roman stopped them all. “Let’s not take this matter lightly, it’s a love poem…” He paused for dramatic effect. “One written by a fucking looser!” He laughed as he ripped the blue paper and Virgil’s heart to shreds. 

“At least it wasn’t from emo fucker.” Heather said smirking over at Virgil from across the room, with a knowing look in her eyes that made his blood run cold.

“Oh could you imagine that hot mess?” Roman laughed. “Now about these other letters… I see that Candice sent me one.” As Roman winked at said girl and they moved seats to kiss, Virgil could feel hot tears forming in his eyes. He stood up quickly and ignored everyone as he ran out of the classroom and straight (or gay) into the batroom. He swiftly locked himself into one of the stalls and promptly collapsed, hugging his knees and sobbing into them. He could feel himself lose control on his size, but he didn’t care, he might as well shrink out of existence. Why did he think it was a good idea? Why did he go through with it? 

As if things couldn’t get any worse a voice rang out through the bathroom saying “Oh emo.” startling him. They spoke with a sickeningly sweet and innocent voice that he would recognize any day. It was Heather. She must have followed him into the boy’s bathroom. Virgil curled in on himself as he listened to the clacking of her heels getting closer. “Emo fucker you can’t hide from “love”” She taunted. Virgil dared a glance up to find himself about a foot tall. He didn’t know whether to be even more scared or relieved that he could hide easier.  “You know, that was pretty brave of you to write.” At her words Virgil paused confused by what she meant. “Telling a guy that you have no chance with about all of your disgusting gay agenda? Actually, now that I think of it it was a pretty dumb move.” She laughed mercilessly, causing Virgil to flinch and curl further in on himself. “You know Virgie,” She purred out his name making him sick. “I could help you.” There was the sound of a door banging open and a hum of disappointment from Heather. “I could easily help you to understand how…” Another bang. “and why it’s better to just love naturally.” Another bang this one close enough to cause Virgil’s ears to pound. He needed to move. Now. He forced himself to stand now only six inches tall and crawled behind the toilet. “Aw, Virgie won’t you come out to play?” Virgil shivered, holding back sobs and hoping she would just leave. “Oh come on!” She let up the act and finally Virgil’s stall door burst open, and he had to cover his mouth to hold back a scream.

●●●

Virgil woke with a start, promptly falling out of bed in an undignified heap. He took a few moments to breath as he got his bearings.  He was in his dorm. He was in college. He was on the floor. Using his bed to help pull him up, he slowly stood. Once he was balanced he could tell that he’d lost a couple of feet in his sleep, but it wasn’t enough for the fall out of bed to hurt him luckily. Before he got back in bed he checked his phone seeing unanswered messages asking about the voice message he had left.

No time like the present to explain.

Next Chapter =>

Tag list: @unevencube2554 @bullet-tothefeels @carryondrawing @neverrise

[lifesliced-a]

i’m going to be talking more about ren and hina with their individual and combined experiences since japan’s laws on prostitution give some leeway to the sex industry as a whole. obviously the below content warnings are due to them being of a sexual nature, so discretion advised. 

that being said, i’m aiming to take this from a respectful and technical approach to a character that lives a very different life than some of the other characters on this blog. also this is really, really long. i tried to do my research here as well as tie my character into all that research.

HOST STUFF / REN’S MANAGEMENT OF THE CLUB:

hina and ren have a small age difference of just a year, both having gotten into the industry at a young age ( both 18 ) .

as a host, ren is pretty strict in the day-to-day about hosting. it is exactly as it seems: he hosts and he manages the club.

it’s smoke and mirrors basically, catering to having drinks, flirting with customers, and basically entertaining them. a host can touch the patron, but usually not the other way around. ren is a little less strict to this in his own management of shining!, so long as it falls under the guise of socially appropriate ( returning a gesture from a host for instance, or a hand on the shoulder ) . 

hosts are allowed to give their numbers and often take their clients on dates, which in turn leads them back to the host club to make more money. the goal is to keep revenue coming in. shining! is aimed to the ‘classic’ experience, what many would think of in reference to ouran aesthetically speaking ( and not much else ) . as much as i keep ren at a dissonance from that show overall so as to not be confused, the idea of shining! started as a tourist attraction / pop-up. it no doubt drew that crowd in, and quite purposefully given that foreigners and locals alike were apt to visit. it was a pop-up for a few years before having permanent residence in the red-light district. it’s supposed to be a diamond in the rough; a place for affordable class.

ren was part of the original set of boys hosting for the ‘pre-shining!’ days, and is the last out of them to have not moved to another club / part of the industry. he was chosen just before he turned 19, having worked at another smaller club before he was scooped up. 

WHO RUNS SHINING! BEHIND THE SCENES?

his name is ishikawa goro ( though ren doubts this to be his real name ), and is a member of the yakuza, utilizing shining! for purposes mostly beneath ren’s nose. he started the pop up, he hired ren, and he got the business off the ground while entrusting ren to manage it. ren was known as umi then. goro was the one that suggested he go by ren, finding it fitting for him.

he has been involved in ren’s life for almost ten years based on where ren’s primary verse picks up, and has basically been a formative figure in ren’s life where one was lacking. there is no sexual element to their relationship, though ren had a slight affection for him at first that was quickly realized to be a more fondness. 

goro’s appearance changes often, mostly his hair color. he goes from natural black through shades of brown and blond often, wanting to keep himself from being noticed too often. he acts as a part of the underground.

he comes off pretty cool, collected, and in control. he has all the chips in favor, the deck is stacked, the game is rigged. he tends to give the illusion that power is shared, or that he’s out for everyone’s best interest, but he typically has his own interests at heart. he will do whatever fits agenda. if helping benefits him, he’ll help. if not, he typically won’t intervene. he finds reasons to do things that might not directly benefit him, but those are solely motivated by personal interest. he has a soft spot for children, and tends to be aggressive with offenders that are dangerous to children. this is ren’s best selling point honestly.

WHAT DID REN DO BEFORE THERE WAS A PERMANENT LOCATION / DURING OFF-SEASONS?

when the club wasn’t completely profitable as a full-time position, ren definitely learned early to work around the law. japan’s prostitution laws allow for a lot of loopholes --> read about japan’s laws on prostitution and what sex workers do / where they work to get around these laws. 

>>>> “ Prostitution in modern Japan, as defined under Japanese law, is the illegal practice of sexual intercourse with an 'unspecified' (unacquainted) person in exchange for monetary compensation,[1][2][3] which was criminalized in 1965 by the introduction of article 3 of the Anti-Prostitution Law (売春防止法, Baishun Bōshi Hō). ” <<<<

this leaves the door open to other acts that sex workers can engage in outside of ‘sexual intercourse with an unspecified person’. that basically means they can’t engage in traditional sex with strangers for money, but could have paid sex with an acquaintance. this does not mean they cannot perform oral sex and other sex acts that are non-coital are permitted to be paid for by unspecified persons. there is a term for the industry that i’ve come to understand is like an overlaying term for many different places with different business called ‘health’.

in ren’s case, he’s used this as a strong argument for having paid sex with clients as they are ‘in his realm of acquaintances’. he meets his private connections via the locations he’s worked at, primarily shining!.

ren kept a small string of locals that came to the pop-up location in his black book to keep a small revenue coming in from 19-21. shining! is a running business with four walls by the time he’s 22, to which these connections grows, and he becomes busier ‘moonlight’. however, from 18-21, he did work at a few other locations to supplement cashflow. he has also temporarily returned to some of these gigs shortly after kyosuke was born, and during his transition between apartments ( to which he is currently living at 27 ) .

ren’s options, in comparison to hina’s, are a bit more limited in being hired in what one could consider a “legal establishment”. a lot of his work is reliant on his customer base from shining! and other connections. so when he wasn’t working at shining! or meeting with regulars off the clock ( or ‘friends of’ his regulars ) , he acted as a male equivalent of what’s called ‘delivery health’ which is basically a type of call girl. ironically this is what ren transitions to full-time after leaving shining!, having built up a solid customer base as he follows his former #2 host**

** this host, sho, is a major connection in ren’s life. ren hired sho at shining! to be the genki type. despite their initial differences, rne and sho realized quickly their opposing appearances and personalities could make them more money together than apart. they’ll host together or bounce off each other ( “see how mean ren is to me!” or “see how difficult sho makes my job” to play sympathy ) , which quickly moved to them hosting after hours together. individually they do well, but together there is more profit. they also have an affair together on and off. **

SO WHERE DOES HINA FIT INTO THIS? SHE’S A HOSTESS, RIGHT?

she is! hina met ren when the club was a pop-up, coming to be hosted after constantly having to host. ren understands, as he’s done the same. their connection was pretty quick. 

before hosting, hina’s first job as a sex worker was as an onakura, and she did that for six months while trying to work a few part-time jobs. finding herself, similarly to ren, unable to rise above her circumstances, she quickly quit that to pursue more money.

for a short period she worked as a call girl, but eventually found hosting to be her saving grace while still remaining in the industry. she was given the opportunity by a friend who was a hostess at the time, and had suggested she apply. cleaning herself up, hina excelled quickly, and is quite good at her job. 

where she used to moonlight for $$$, she now gaslights ren for cash due to their connection as mother / father to their son. he always obliges. there is love in that love-hate.

ADDITIONAL DETAILS:

how it all boils down --> both hina and ren are essentially sex workers, though ren is more into the realm of prostitution than hina is. he is the primary caretaker for their son, and his mother, and thus his financial burden is far greater. 

a big reason he leaves his manager position is because a) it’s not going anywhere and b) he can’t let sho leave without him. now that he has a clientele that’s more than several individuals, he can work effectively as a “man on call” and get a larger pool from there. his services are more open, more direct, and not under the guise of ‘hosting’ anymore. they still fall into being advertised within the legal confines, but he’s still in the red light district: at the end of the day, ren is ( and has always been ) a prostitute. there’s nothing wrong with that, and in reality he really is the one that has the hardest time coming to terms with the technically terms for his career. he’s only doing what’s been the oldest profession in the book, and he’s filling a niche that’s more saturated by men wanting women and not women wanting men ( or men wanting men ) .

over time, ren has definitely acted outside of the law, but he mostly does what he can to stay within the legalities forced on him. the reason ren got into this wasn’t originally to go full-in, more needing some quick cash after he had to drop out of university and take care of his mom. from there, it sort of just spiraled, and he was in situations he was either too young or naive to understand, or was just making bad decisions. by the time he met hina and got her pregnant, there was no way ren was going to get out.

he traditionally hosts women more than men, though he sleeps with men and women rather equally with men being a slightly larger margin. there is a stigma of gay men living openly, and he provides comfort as a temporary lover. they can pretend he is their own / their boyfriend for a night.

while most of his female and male partners, for their own reasons, seek him for comfort and sex, others have been more violent. it’s no shock or secret that, especially acting independently without shining! to back him, ren has found himself in trouble, or just some extreme sexual situations.

he’s been hit and choked, which is not uncommon, to full on beaten up. he takes it as some clients just like it rough, and he’s there to provide them whatever kink they pay him to indulge. his motto is: i like what you like. a husband has walked in on him, but didn’t seem surprised. he’s been with couples, has been passed around, and basically is keen to do whatever he has to leave the situation still able to go to the work the next day as ren / come home at night as yori ( kyosuke’s father ) .

** at some point during their time together at shining! through their time post-shining! that ren pursues some cam-work with sho. he usually is masked as they do ‘live-streams’ where they perform with / on each other at the discretion of the chat. this is an on again / off again type of deal, though they typically do well, and get a good portion of views from westerners **

[imlovethomassanders]

Destined - Chapter 5 (FINAL)

You can also read on ao3

Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck around for the whole thing! I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Summary: Damien never wanted soulmates. When his fifteenth birthday came, he prayed he wouldn’t receive a “hint” - a way soulmates are connected to help find each other. And to Damien’s horror, the universe gives him multiple soulmates. He’s determined to not let them find out about them. He wants to let them live in ignorant bliss and not force them to deal with him. As Damien grows older, he moves away and goes to college - He even manages to find a boyfriend that he chose himself, and Damien tells himself that he’s happy. But on Damien’s twentieth birthday, the universe gives him and his soulmates another hint - and this one is not one Damien can avoid.

Pairing: DLAMP

Warnings:Abusive romantic relationship (physically, sexually, and verbally), past physical parental abuse, sex and alcohol mentions,  general angst (but happy ending)

Words: 3030

Taglist:

@touchstarvedvirgil

@lamp-calm-sanders

@ninjago2020

@confinesofpersonalknowledge

@secret-novelisthost18

@phander-sides

@sherlock-lives-on-bakerstreet​

@fortheloveofvirgil​

@what-up-dudesss

@roxiefox24

@stan-logan-you-cowards

Damien pushed an actor out of the makeup room and huffed as he closed the door. Finally, it was the last scene of the last performance. He allowed himself to lean against the door and take a breath. He was the one person in charge of makeup and the director decided to cast a musical with thirty actors. He was exhausted. But he knew he couldn't relax just yet.

He heard the final number begin to play and he went to pack up all this things before the actors rushed in. As soon as he packed his bag and hit it under the bench so no one would mess with it, the door swung open and the room was filled with actors, all buzzing with excitement.

"Damien, can you wash the gray out of my hair?" "Damien, I can't get my eyeliner off." "Damien, is there any makeup still on my face?" "Damien, do you have a hairbrush I could borrow?" "Damien, I need more makeup wipes."

"Brush it out with this first and then I'll come back to you to get the last of it out." "Here, use this instead. It's specifically for eye makeup." "There's a little under your jawline." "There's one on the end of the counter." "Here, I have plenty more."

When things finally relaxed, he found where Roman was sitting and collapsed on the bench next to him.

Damien was not particularly pleased with how much time he's had to spend lately with the eccentric Thespian. With dress rehearsals and performances the last week, Roman and him have had to see a lot of each other, which was the opposite of what Damien wanted. But the theatre came first, so Damien sucked it up and did his job.

"Thanks for all the help these last few nights," Roman said as he wiped makeup from his forehead. Damien grunted.

"Thanks for actually knowing what you're doing and not requiring my assistance every damn second."

Roman laughed.

"Seriously. I swear, you were the only person who paid attention at my base makeup demonstration. Everyone else was bothering me to help them."

"You're incredible."

Damien prayed that he wasn't blushing.

"...You still have makeup on your neck and side of your face," Damien noticed and he reached for another makeup wipe. He placed his other hand on Roman's face and started removing his makeup, which wasn't unusual. He helped plenty of other actors remove their makeup, especially the men who weren't used to wearing it. But then he noticed the sly way Roman was looking at him. Roman gently took Damien's hand that was holding his cheek and kissed his palm. Damien scowled at him and hit him in the face with the makeup wipe before finishing.

Roman waited for Damien to finish helping the other actors to get them to leave and helped him clean up the makeup room, and the two were finally able to leave. Once the two made it to the lobby, the other three rushed to them to congratulate them. When Damien was complimented on the special effects makeup he did, he brushed them off. He still didn't know how to respond to compliments.

"Damien, we usually go out after Roman's performances," Patton explained. "But if you really don't want to, we can just head back home."

Damien could tell Patton was just making the offer to be polite. He knew the four of them really wanted to go out. Damien really didn't want to, but he knew he should since they were letting him stay in their apartment, and he didn't want to become such a burden on them.

"I don't care."

And that's how Damien found himself at iHop, squished in a booth between a window and Roman. Apparently, iHop was a theatre kid tradition, since they saw plenty of other actors there.

Patton sat on the other side of Roman while Logan and Virgil sat across.

Damien spent most of the time just staring out the window, ignoring the conversation and the food Patton had ordered for him. That was until Roman said his name.

"Hm?" Damien hummed as he turned towards them.

"I asked how you got into theatre. Did your parents take you to a show when you were young? That's how I got into it."

Damien grimaced.

"Um... no. I just discovered some cast recordings in middle school and watched a lot of bootlegs."

"Oh. Well, what was your first show? Mine was The Sound of Music."

"I haven't had the chance to see a musical live outside of school performances."

Roman's eyes widened.

"Well, I can't allow that! I am always a seasonal ticket holder at the regional Orpheum, and starting today, you will always be my plus one. The Lion King is coming next week."

Damien's heart leaped. That sounded so incredible. But...

"That's a very nice offer, Roman," Damien said as he turned his attention back out the window. "But I'm afraid that won't be necessary. I'll be gone soon."

Roman's smile disappeared and he looked at the others, but they didn't know what to say.

"Come on, Dee. At least let him take you to The Lion King," Virgil said.

"But don't feel pressured to!" Patton quickly added.

"...We'll see."

That wasn't a definite no, so the they relaxed a bit as they continued their conversation.

But they didn't let Damien go again. They kept asking him questions to keep him engaged, and somehow, Damien found himself not hating it. He tried his best not to show it, though.

Once Patton finally got Damien to laugh at one of his jokes, he gave Damien a soft smile that he hoped let him know that he belonged here. He fit with them, they wanted him.

Damien glanced away from Patton as his throat tightened.

Damien tried to keep a balance of distancing himself while also not being terribly rude to his helpers, but he was failing miserable. Whether it was Roman sweeping him into a dance mirroring the one playing on the current Disney movie, or Logan reading to him to calm him down, or Patton dotting cookie dough on his nose when he helped in the kitchen, or Virgil lounging beside him and showing him just, just like they used to - whatever it was, Damien found himself entranced.

Besides, what's the harm of indulging himself a bit before they inevitably get sick of him?

Damien had just been watching a movie, when the next thing he knew there was a pillow fort being built around him by Roman and Patton. And now he was lying on the floor between the others.

His phone dinged, and when he checked it he saw it was a confirmation email from an apartment complex saying his background check was cleared and that he could come down and try to work out paperwork.

"Are you okay, dear?" Roman asked from his direct left.

"I'm leaving soon," Damien said as he  put his phone back in his pocket.

They all froze, and Damien couldn't stand the tense silence that fell over them.

"Why, sweetie?" Patton asked, pain evident in his voice.

"It will be better that way."

He didn't expect them to understand yet, but once he's gone they'll realize how much better it is when they don't have to deal wit him.

Virgil placed a hand on Damien's right arm and Damien went to move his arm out of Virgil's grasp, but when he saw Virgil's hurt eyes gazing up at him, he let Virgil wrap an arm around his.

"I just got you back," Virgil whispered as tears welled in his eyes. He quickly ducked his head onto Damien's shoulder to hide his face. "You can't just leave again."

"Talk to us, Damien," Logan said as he sat up from his spot on the other side of Roman. "Tell us what we can do to help."

"There's nothing you can do," Damien said, trying to ignore the wet spots forming on his shoulder.

"Please, what's troubling you, darling?" Roman asked.

"Nothing you can fix."

"Let us try."

"I can't let you do that."

"Damien, please," Patton cried. "Let us help you-"

"Stop." Damien snapped. "Just stop. If I stay, you're just going to get sick of me. You're going to find out how awful I am to have around, and I don't want to be here when you finally realize how unlovable I am."

Silence.

"Damien," Virgil said with a shaky breath. "You were an asshole when I first met you, and yet you still managed to make me fall in love with you..."

Damien's eyes widened.

"Who did this to you?" Roman whispered. "Who was so evil that they tricked you into believing such lies?"

"No one tricked me," Damien muttered. "It's just the truth no one has ever loved me before. Not even my own mother. Not until Jackson, at least. But you four are adamant he never really loved me."

"You don't hurt the people you love," Roman said defensively. "We can't let you think that's how love is supposed to be."

"Well, there you go," Damien snapped. "Everyone I've ever loved never loved me back."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure someone-"

"No, Patton," Damien interrupted. "My mother literally tried to kill me. All my foster parents abandoned me. None of my classmates liked me, my teachers hated me, my counselors gave up on me. No one has ever loved me."

"You're mother did what?" Patton whispered as he sat up, all four of them staring at him in horror. Virgil tightened his grip on Damien's arm.

Damien groaned as he ran his hands down his face.

"Look, it'll just hurt all of us if I stay. You'll understand in time."

"No, no, sweetie, wait," Patton said as tears welled in his eyes. "Please don't leave, we-"

"I love you," Virgil whispered into Damien's shoulder. "I don't expect you to say it back, but I want you to know I love you. Every part of you."

"A troubled past does not diminish one's self worth," Logan said.

"I know we haven't known you as long as Virgil has," Patton said through tears. "But we care about you so so so much."

"Damien beloved, darling, dearest," Roman said gently as he raised a hand to cup Damien's cheek. "More than anything, we want you to be happy. But know that we want you here, with us, in our relationship and our lives. We know it won't always be easy, but we want to work it out with you. For you, dear, anything."

"...No," Damien whispered as he gently moved Virgil off of him. "No, no, no. This can't happen."

"Damien, what-"

"I didn't know how much I had fooled you already," Damien interrupted Virgil as he sat up. "I can't let myself deceive you into thinking I'm good for you."

"No, Damien, wait!" Virgil cried as Damien stood up. Virgil reached for his wrist but caught himself, and Damien locked himself in the bedroom.

Damien didn't let himself see the others at all over the next few days. He responded to the email to set up an appointment time. Everything would be resolved soon.

As Damien quickly walked out of the campus building, he checked his phone for the time. If he hurried, he could get back to the apartment before the others do.

He cut through a student parking lot when he heard a familiar voice.

"Damien!"

Damien didn't even look behind him before he started running, but it wasn't long until there was a hand around his wrist and he was being pinned against a van.

"Where have you been, Damien?" Jackson asked. "I've missed you."

His grip grew tighter.

"You have to come home, Damien. I-"

Damien kneed Jackson's stomach, used that brief moment that Jackson let go of him to try to run, but Jackson quickly grabbed Damien's wrist again and slammed Damien back against the van, slapping his face before grabbing Damien's hair.

"You're really trying to run away from me again Damien? You really want to get in trouble, huh?"

Damien felt tingling on his arm.

"What's going on here?"

Damien looked over to see Patton and his face paled as fear shot through him. He couldn't let Patton get hurt. Oh, god, Patton was going to get hurt and it was all his fault-

"Who are you?"

"A friend. Now I'm going to have to ask you to let go of him."

"Look, you really need to mind your own business and leave before I-"

"Patton!" someone yelled. They heard heavy footsteps running towards them before Roman came into view. "I saw your message," he said, holding up his right arm.

It was very unnerving to see the usually very happy and excited Roman now look very intimidating and very, very angry.

"Let go of Damien. Now."

"So these are your soulmates?" Jackson laughed as he pressed his arm against Damien's throat. "What happened to not wanting anything to do with them?"

"I said let. Him. Go." Roman said as he walked towards Jackson. Jackson threw Damien behind him and Damien hissed in pain as his hands made contact with the concrete. In his peripheral, he saw Patton duck behind a car. Jackson shoved Roman away from him, but Damien's view of the fighting was soon blocked by Patton kneeling in front of him.

"You're okay. It's okay," Patton assured him. "Deep breaths. There you go. You're doing great."

Patton gently but quickly got Damien to stand up to lead lead him away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jackson called out. Damien whirled around and quickly blocked the punch that was heading towards Patton's face. Patton yelled out as he caught Damien who staggered back. Roman quickly kicked the back of Jackson's knees and pinned his arms back once he fell.

And that's when Logan and Virgil ran over with campus police.

Damien collapsed onto the couch once they got home. Explaining what happened to the officers took longer than he liked. Of course Jackson tried to defend himself, but once they checked the parking lot cameras, he didn't have much of a case. Roman's attack on Jackson was ruled as self defense, and Jackson would be charged accordingly. It was then agreed that Damien would get a restraining order.

Virgil came to sit beside him as the others whispered in the kitchen.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Virgil said. "...I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"That you had to deal with that monster for so long."

Damien didn't say anything. But when Virgil opened his arms, Damien hesitated only for a second before falling into them.

"They put themselves in harms way for me," Damien whispered as he looked at Roman and Patton. Roman was being dote on by Patton over his acquired scrapes and bruises, and Damien was sure that Patton would do the same to him, too.

"Of course they did," Virgil said softly. "...Are you still thinking of leaving?"

Damien sat up from Virgil's arms, and worry flashed over Virgil's face.

"Because you know we won't stop you from leaving, but we're worried that you don't realize how much we care about-"

"No," Damien whispered.

"Huh?"

"I'm not leaving. I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

A large grin grew on Virgil's face and he opened his mouth to say something but paused when Damien placed a hand on his cheek.

The two gazed at each other for a moment, and then Damien kissed Virgil.

Kissing Virgil was so much softer than Damien ever imagined kissing someone could be. Virgil's arms wrapped securely around Damien's waist, and Damien felt safe.

They parted and gazed at each other, but only for a moment before they both leaned forward to reconnect their lips. Virgil made Damien feel cared for, adored, loved. Tears fell down Damien's cheeks as he placed his other hand on Virgil's other cheek and pulled Virgil closer, desperate for as much contact he could get. He couldn't think of a time before when he was handled so lovingly.

The next time they parted, Virgil gingerly wiped the tears from Damien's cheeks.

"I love you," Damien whispered. Virgil's eyes widened but a soft smile graced his face.

"I love you, too."

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss that made Damien's cheeks grow even more red.

When they separated for the last time, Virgil looked behind them and smirked to see a beaming Patton and a blushing Logan and Roman.

"Come here," Damien pleaded, and they quickly came and joined them on the couch, Roman sitting on his right side with Logan by Virgil and Patton by Roman.

Damien pressed a kiss on Roman's jaw where a bruise was forming.

"Thank you," Damien whispered. "All of you."

"Of course, my angel," Roman murmured as he kissed the top of Damien's head.

"Does this mean you're staying?" Patton asked, trying and failing to hide the hope in his voice.

"Yes," Damien said as he curled into Virgil's side. "If you'll have me. You all make me want to try."

"Of course, sweetie," Patton cooed as he reached over Roman for Damien's hand.

Damien soon moved onto the couch, insistent that he's been hogging the bedroom for far too long. But it wouldn't be that much longer before he moved into the bedroom with them.

First kisses would soon be shared between Damien and Patton, then Roman, then Logan, and later then the first "I love you"s. But it wasn't always easy. On the road to recovery, Damien sometimes found himself take a few steps back. He'd get angry and lash out, or say something he'd regret. Sometimes the others argued back, and sometimes they'd accidentally make Damien flinch. But they always ensured that things ended okay. None of them liked to fight, and any disagreements would quickly bubble down and end with what Patton called the "cuddle puddle."

Damien was happy, he was safe, and he was loved - things he used to never imagine for himself. And for the first time, he was certain he was where he needed to be.

Thanks so much to everyone who hung around for this whole thing! And thank you so much for the kind words, it means a lot!

[spell-cleaver]

The last time Luke had set foot in the cavernous senate hall it had been for empire day and his father had made him stand behind his seat for five hours.

Part 0.5, Part 1, Part 1.5, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Masterpost here!

The last time Luke had set foot in the cavernous senate hall it had been for Empire Day and his father had made him stand behind his seat for five hours.

It dwarfed him now, as it did then: the thousands of pods, bubbles slotted unnaturally neatly into the sides of a chamber that dropped farther than any child (or human being whatsoever) could ever be comfortable with. Nova helped him up onto the central podium that rose from the floor and he gulped, clinging to her hand perhaps more tightly than necessary, forcibly not looking down.

When the pod got moving, he may have yelped. No one heard him but the guards at his back—Vader’s guards, but Vader himself wasn’t here so he could relax—and Nova, who smiled and squeezed his hand a little.

Then they were up, and up, and he could feel every single senator’s gaze on him like needles.

His introductory speech was short and sweet. He knew the tradition of the Senate was to open with his father’s voice—even from before the rise of the Empire, when he was still the Chancellor of the failing Republic—so Nova had advised that he should seek to keep that, to assure the Senate of at least some continuity. She’d helped him write it, showed him how to make it suggestive of but not committed to certain things, to give the impression of someone with wisdom beyond his age.

After he’d done that, he stepped back to let the new spokesperson—one of Amedda’s surviving aides—introduce the speakers. They were debating which planet a new academy should be built on, and Luke sat back in the Emperor’s chair on the podium, datapad weighed against his knee as he took notes.

“That’s a good idea,” Nova murmured to him. “It makes it look like you’re paying acute attention to each and every one of them—like you really care about their opinions on the situation.”

“I am,” Luke replied. “And I do.”

She smiled. “I know.”

The session didn’t quite last five hours, but it did last four, and when Luke stood again to give his closing speech it was with a sore backside and drooping eyelids. He’d paid attention to… nearly everything in the session, he’d only zoned out a few times, and now he was looking forwards to the smaller, closed event where Nova had arranged for him to personally meet a few senators at a time,  and to after, when he could read or draw or sew quietly, in peace. Fully process the day.

“You’re smiling,” Nova observed as the pod descended.

Luke smiled wider. “I like feeling a little bit in control.”

“Then let’s try and increase that feeling,” she said, and placed a cool hand on his shoulder to guide him down the nearest corridor. The guards fell into place behind them.

The function was held in a small room off to the side, with locked doors and shielded windows, and a table of small, worthless food that in Luke’s experience tasted weak and did nothing for hunger. Before he entered, he ordered that his escort stand guard outside, behind the door, while only Nova accompanied him in; he didn’t want Vader’s men witnessing this exchange.

The three senators he was supposed to meet today had already taken seats on the low sofas around the table, and the moment Luke saw them he understood what Nova was up to.

Senator Organa from Alderaan. Senator Mothma from Chandrila. Senator Pamlo from Taris.

Nova had not been subtle about her Rebel sympathies, when last they spoke of such things—and it was no wonder that she wanted to present people who’d disagreed with his father’s regime first. He’d need to… talk to her, about that later. Organa was rumoured to be an active member of the Rebellion—was she one, too? How did she know him?

Why had she been so insistent on raising Luke?

But for now, it didn’t matter.

He trusted Nova.

So he smiled broadly at the senators the moment he entered, and it was not faked. They smiled back—if a little warily, for Pamlo and Mothma—and stood to bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Senators,” he greeted. He sat down quickly, letting them sit as well; even seated, he was noticeably shorter than them. He hoped his distaste didn’t show.

He rested his datapad on his knee and, despite how tired and hungry he was, did not reach for the food.

“I believe Lady Sabé informed you that over the next few weeks, I intend to speak with several of the factions in the Senate. My father’s unexpected passing left me somewhat unprepared to immediately take up his mantle, and I would fix that as soon as possible,” he began. “I’d like to start by asking you of your broader opinions of the state of the Empire, and the Senate, today, and to let me know if there are any issues you believe should be addressed.”

He worked to keep his voice perfectly neutral, gaze on his datapad. He granted them a moment to glance awkwardly at each other before he looked up again, gaze latching first on Organa.

He did not expect—and would not appreciate—open treason. But Organa was smarter than that.

And the definition of treason was set by the monarch.

“My concerns about the Empire, Your Majesty, are that it has proven too focused on military prowess, and that therefore other areas have degenerated severely in the past few years…”

*

Another hour and three interviews—discussions, perhaps, between the three Rebel senators, while Luke stayed neutral and listened—later, and Luke was exiting the room with a datapad full of notes, and questions he was going to ask Nova. But he had been taught politics and diplomacy for as long as he could remember, far more thoroughly than his father or Vader had ever tried to teach him about the Force; he was already coming up with some ideas.

He’d speak to some of the more pro-Imperial senators before he implemented any, to get a more balanced picture. Erialus, maybe…

Nova stayed behind to talk to her friends a little bit, so Luke walked down the corridor alone save for his guards; he just wanted to get back to his quarters.

But he’d barely been walking for a few minutes when something felt… off.

Yes. Off.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor. They were surrounded by senators’ offices, but they were all empty at this time. It wasn’t them…

It was…

He turned to face his guards.

They wore the armour of Vader’s 501st, right enough, but the Force, that mystical energy field he knew he wasn’t skilled in, he knew he shouldn’t trust as much as he did, it said—

He blinked.

Well.

It said there was a blaster pointed at him, and his eyes could corroborate that.

“Come with us, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “We mean you no harm.”

Luke’s heart hammered in his chest. His eyes widened slowly. His breathing quickened as he raised his hands.

“I— I—”

“I said, we don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have a blaster—”

“But we will,” he continued harshly, “if you do not cooperate.”

That was when Luke recognised him.

That gruff voice, the utter lack of patience—

His eyes widened even further. “Captain Vassic—”

He dived to the side before he’d even finished talking. The stun shot grazed his thigh; he wasn’t hammered by it but a numbness seized his leg and he stumbled into the wall, sliding down. He shoved himself up and staggered back, away from—

From his father’s guard.

The captain of his father’s red guards, who’d had to guard him enough times in the past as well.

Bolts streaked past him, blue and red—they turned the setting off stun, oh moons, they want to—

“We do not want to kill you, prince, but if you do not come with us I promise that you will get hurt. You know we have never taken disobedience lightly.”

No. They hadn’t.

They never, ever, ever had.

There was feeling in his leg again. Luke put weight on it, testing, and sprinted—

And a shot caught him in the waist—sent him down in a shout of pain.

Hot blood pumped from his side; he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stifle it, screaming—

But then Vassic took one step closer and Luke peeled his eyes open again so he could see him approach, holstering his blaster.

So he could see the black-clad nightmare who should be on the other side of the galaxy storm down the corridor with his lightsaber lit.

Vassic froze, and whirled on Vader in a cry of shock and outrage, but Vader was faster. Luke flinched at the brutal snap of his neck, at the way the other trooper was stabbed in the gut and left to die, moaning on the floor in a blubbering mess.

Luke stared at the trooper, at the body, and at Vader, who knelt in front of them.

“Luke,” he said. “Luke, you—”

“You’re meant to be on Eriadu,” Luke said dully, staring.

“I— I sent the Noghri to perform that task, Majesty, my apologies—”

“Luke!” came a shout. Luke’s gaze slid over Vader’s shoulder to see Nova running for him, but then it was pulled back to Vader’s mask, and he stifled a bloody sob.

“They didn’t want to kill me,” he said.

“Majesty, you must get to a medbay—”

“They wanted to kidnap me, like you said. Take me away.” His gaze slid towards the floor. “They didn’t want to kill me.”

“Luke…”

“Why didn’t they want to kill me? What did they want me for?”

Vader was quiet for a moment.

Then he murmured, “Sleep, Luke.”

Unconsciousness sucked him down, and he knew no more.

Send me the first sentence for a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

[crackimagines]

FE3H - Beer and Romance

Byleth-Sama: Love is War (Part 3)

-----

Part Listings Here!

All AU’s involved listed here!

-----

Having no skills in the art of wooing people, Sara must improvise and find a way to get Byleth with her for the ball.

Even if that means getting help from...Less than desirable people.

-----

The Evening of Part 2...  

[Evening Moments - Trails of Cold Steel]

Sara chugged the last of the ale in her mug and slammed it onto the counter, burping loudly.

(Sara) “Aaaah! Now that hit the spot!”

She laid back against the chair as her mind was barely scrambling together her thoughts.

(Aqua) “You seriously know how to find the good stuff, Instructor!”

(Manuela) “Agreed! Though, what are you doing with us tonight, Sara?”

(Sara) “Hm? Whatcha mean?”

(Manuela) “You’re currently trying to get Byleth as your partner for the dance, right?”

Sara sat back up in her chair and furrowed her brows.

(Sara) “The hell, who told you all that?!”

(Aqua) burp! “Our classes did. Well, technically Sothis did first but ya know!” hic!

(Manuela) “Sothis? Wow, you really ARE out of it. But yes, I heard it from the students. Trying to win that handsome man’s heart isn’t going to be easy with Megumi.”

(Sara) “Hmph.”

(Manuela) “After all, she’s a lot more polite and well liked around the students, doesn’t smell like booze-”

(Sara) “Gee, thanks for your support.”

(Aqua) HIC! “Come on, show some support for our girl! Sara’s got her womanly charms down! She’s SMOKIN! Let’s...ask Kazuma and the other students who’s got your back!”

Sara looked into her mug and nodded.

(Sara) “Not a bad idea from someone so wasted...Let’s do it!”

FWOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire building shook violently, snapping everyone out of their drinking.

(Manuela) “What in the hell was that?!”

(Sara) “Was...that a guitar?”

(Aqua) “I think it came from the training hall!”

The three looked at each other, shrugged, then went back to drinking. 

Day 3...

[Suburban Town of Trista - Trails of Cold Steel]

Rean sat at the pier fishing when he heard footsteps.

(Sara) “Hey Rean bean!”

(Rean) “Hello, Instructor. Do you need something?”

(Sara) “As a matter of fact, I do! Scooch over will ya?”

Rean shrugged and moved over for Sara to sit down.

(Sara) “Soooo, you have a lot of the girls attention from our class, yes?”

(Rean) “I guess? I don’t know I never got that vibe bef-...Is this about Byleth?”

(Sara) “Right on the money! So, I know I haven’t exactly been the...well...definition of ladylike-”

(Rean) “That’s an understatement-”

(Sara) “H-Hey!”

(Rean) “What? I’m being honest.”

(Sara) “Such words wound my heart! My own student not swooning over his tragically attractive teac-”

(Rean) “It’s Byleth’s attention you’re trying to get right? Class VII is rooting for you all the way, Instructor. Buuuut, I’m not exactly the guy to go to. Why not go to Sharon or any of the girls in House Isekai?”

(Sara) “As if that maid knows anything about being a proper lady!”

(Sharon) “I know more than you do, Miss Sara!”

Sharon smiled as both Rean and Sara jumped.

(Sara) “ACK! Quit doing that! And besides I’m asking you because you seem to help everyone in our class without a hitch. Help your poor teacher too!”

(Rean) “Instructor, you realize I had to do that because you pretty much forced everyone onto me, right?”

(Sharon) “But it’s something you don’t regret doing, Master Rean!”

(Rean) “...Ugh, fair enough. Well I guess if I can recommend anything, what about a better dress? Something you can wear to wow Byleth the day of the ball.”

(Sara) “Hm...That’s a start. Well, thanks Rean!”

(Rean) “Good luck, Instructor.”

Sara walked off to the markets, leaving Rean and Sharon.

(Rean) “...Sharon can you shadow her and Megumi to make sure they don’t end up hurting themselves with this crazy little fight?”

(Sharon) “Already taken care of, Master Rean! I have asked several of our students to keep watch when I am not around!”

(Rean) “Really? Like who?”

...

(Kazuma) “Yo, Sara!”

Sara turned around and saw Kazuma, Megumin, and Edelgard in the market.

(Megumin) “Hi, Instructor!”

(Edelgard) “Good afternoon.”

(Sara) “Hey kids, whatcha need?”

(Kazuma) “We heard you were trying to get an edge over Megunee, and we’re here to help.”

(Megumin) “Yeah, we’ll get you that dance!”

(Edelgard) “You have our word!”

(Sara) “...I can see you two helping me out for none other than pride, but what about you Kazuma?”

(Kazuma) “Meh, it’s just something I believe in.”

“...”

(Kazuma) “...And Sharon paid me.”

(Sara) “There we go, that’s more like it. Anyways, I need some help getting a dress. You lot seem to be more in tune with what’s pretty than me.”

(Megumin) “Uh...All I wear is what you see.”

(Edelgard) “I’m afraid...things like that is beyond my knowledge.”

(Kazuma) “Well if it’s just pretty dresses you need, I think I know just the gal...”

[Open for Business! - Fire Emblem: Awakening]

(Anna) “Welcome to the LARP-Shop!”

(Kazuma) “Sara, this is our dealer for...pretty much every supply we got in House Isekai. Anna, this is that alcoholic teacher.”

(Anna) “A pleasure, Miss Sara!”

(Sara) “Same here. now what’s the LARP part of your shop’s name mean?”

(Anna) “Iunno, sounds kinda fancy ya know?”

(Kazuma) snrk!

(Megumin) “Look at all these costumes! They look like my stuff but...a bit...more banged up.”

(Edelgard) “Oh, what about this knight costume? This is sure to get Byleth’s attention!”

(Kazuma) “Uh, we’re here to get a dress, not make Sara look like us.”

(Anna) “Ooooh, you need a dress? Who’s the lucky man?”

(Sara) “Lucky man? What makes you assume it’s for a guy?”

(Anna) “Well, the ball is coming soon, and every lady I know in Garreg Mach is scrambling to get something pretty, though that’s where the bad news comes in...”

(Kazuma) “Ah shit, don’t tell me?”

(Edelgard) “You’re out of dresses, aren’t you?”

(Anna) “Afraid I am...’

(Sara) “Psh, no problem! I don’t need a dress anyway, I’m sure I can look more stunning with whatever special stuff is here! Hey, Megumin, you’re with me! Edelgard and Kazuma, find me some jewelry!”

(Megumin) “Instructor, who’s money are we using?”

(Sara) “The Monastery’s of course! I ain’t payin a thing myself!”

(Kazuma) “...I respect her so much.”

(Edelgard) “For that?!”

...

(Megumin) “Presenting, the Instructor!”

(Anna) “Oh, she’s done!”

(Kazuma) “Well, let’s see what she di-WOAH.”

“So, how’s this?”

(Megumin) “Pretty!”

(Edelgard) “O-Oh...”

(Kazuma) “HOLY SHIT SHE’S HOT.”

(Anna) “Hah, perfect! To hell with dresses and tradition, am I right?”

(Sara) “Damn straight! Now uh...where exactly did you get this type of clothing? This is more akin to my world’s than anything I’ve seen in Fodlan.”

(Kazuma) “Now that you mention it, yeah that looks more like Earth’s clothing. What’s up with that?”

(Anna) “Don’t question my stock, it’s...an answer you don’t wanna know. Now, let’s get that payment done!”

Once they finished paying for Sara’s new clothes for the ball, she turned to the three.

(Sara) “So, dress acquired! How do I be more ladylike?”

“...”

(Sara) “...I’m asking the wrong people, aren’t I?”

(Megumin, Edelgard & Kazuma) “Yup.”

(Sharon) “If I may?”

(Sara) “GAHGEUDNMDAMN IT!”

(Kazuma) “FUCK! God- how do you?!-”

(Sharon) “I have an idea since the other more womanly types appear to be entirely neutral on this fight or with Megumi though...It’s an idea you may oppose at first.”

(Sara) “Well, I ain’t got anything to lose, hit me.”

Seteth’s Office Room...

[Dapper Cadaver - Team Fortress 2]

Seteth quietly sat in his chair reading a book when he heard a knock at the door.

(Seteth) “Come in.”

Sara awkwardly poked her head around the door.

(Sara) “Uh...h-hey there. Got a second?”

(Seteth) “Oh, Valestein. Please,

GO TO HELL.”

(Sara) “Hah uh...r-real funny. Anyways I-”

SLAM!

Seteth slammed the door, hitting her face in the process and squishing her.

(Sara) “A-AGH! N-NONO WAIT! I’M NOT HERE TO SCREW WITH YOU! I-I NEED YOUR HELP!”

Seteth’s eyes went wide, then he rolled, letting her tumble through the door.

(Seteth) “Make it quick.”

(Sara) “Ack...So...well...You see the thing is, I um...want to take Byleth out...during the...ball.”

(Seteth) “You? You’re terrible with boys!”

(Sara) “Wha? Psh, no! You see this?”

Sara pointed at her face, then body, then the rest of her.

(Sara) “Look at all of this! No, I’m GREAT with the boys! It’s the men, the classy ones. The ones that smell good and...can read.”

(Seteth) “If I recall Byleth couldn’t read when he first started tea-”

(Sara) “Bah, besides the point! And seeing as you’re an actual man who married...I need your help in making me into a woman that he could consider taking into the ball.”

(Seteth) “Hm, and why is it that you are unapproachable to men?”

(Sara) “...C-Come on, Seteth. I don’t know.”

(Seteth) “Well,  a mystery that you will take when you return to your world, goodbye!”

(Sara) “Wait wait wait...Ugh, this NEVER leaves this room...You...are better than me. I need your help.”

Seteth sighed but then turned to her.

(Seteth) “Then let’s get to work. We only have a few more days.”

[joysbell]

A Mountain of Fire and Blood: Chapter 7

Thank you for all the reblogs, comments, likes, and follows. I appreciate every one. I have a list of things I need to happen between Cassian and Nesta in my head, and that’s why I’m writing this <3 I have no idea what present Cassian was trying to give Nesta that he threw into the Sidra, but I have an idea of another present he’s going to give her ^__^ ...and then some.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

* * * 

The High Lord of the Night Court rubbed his face as he leaned against the mantle in his study. His face wrought with frustration. Cassian hadn’t known what kind of breakfast meeting this would be, but now it was clear. Not a morning of fun, or jokes. Something was worrying Rhys. The General simply sat down and waited.

Mor, who had been lecturing Cassian only moments ago, had vanished. Feyre, Amren, and Azriel were also absent. 

“There’s dissent brewing in the mountains,” Rhys said, coming to sit down across from him. He did not wear his usual attire; instead, he seemed rather disheveled in a simple dark shirt and plain pants.

“We already know that-—we’re working on it. What’s new?” Cassian leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch, his wings tucked behind him. The Illyrian clans were always fighting amongst themselves; and yes, things were getting worse, but his circle was aware of the situation. 

The winged clans had many unhappy individuals who were not pleased with the progressive changes Rhysand continued to make. Men who wanted females to stay in their homes. Men who wanted clipped wings...  The women who now trained to fight, to fly, were in a very dangerous situation, but a necessary one for the future. 

However, dissenters were causing an uproar. And Illyrians loved a good frenzy.

“I just got word of a clipping ceremony that took place. Twelve girls,” Rhys said, leaning forward. It obviously hurt him to say. 

“Twelve,” Cassian repeated, shocked, “I will-—” 

“Whoever did this will be punished,” Rhys responded quicker than Cassian could. “By me, personally. I don’t want you to be involved right now with this. You need to remain on their good side.”

“They’re my men,” Cassian practically spat. “What kind of leader am I if I do nothing?”

“You’ll be the general we need to keep the peace,” Rhys said. “I will be the one they hate.”

“The rebels hate me too, and Az. There’s no peace to be made with them,” Cassian said. 

“It’s not about the rebels, it’s about the people. They need you. They look to you. More so than they ever have to me.” 

“Yeah, they look to the Bastard,” he laughed, dryly. But they did respect him. They did follow him. He’d earned that, even from those who looked down on his blood.

Silently, Cassian thought of the women who now tried to break free of their ancestral traditions. He thought of the women he cared for deeply… Mor, Feyre, Nesta… If they had been born Illyrian, what would their fate be? The thought stirred a feeling within him that made Cassian incredibly uncomfortable, and he could no longer sit still. 

“Fine,” said Cassian, “I won’t say anything.” He would follow his High Lord’s orders, even if he disagreed with them. It was ultimately Rhy’s decision to make. 

“In response, we’re going to recruit more women,” Rhys said.

Cassian smirked. “Good idea.”

/ / /

After his unfortunate meeting with Rhys, Cassian returned to the mountains. The air was crisp, cold, and he found himself breathing deeper than usual. His lungs hurt because of it, and he wondered if he was purposely causing the pain. He thought of girls whose wings had been mutilated; wondered how old they were, and who had done it. Their fathers, brothers? It made him want to hurl his guts into the sky.

When he managed to calm down, somewhat, Cassian tried to think instead of Nesta. There was some irritation, of course, that came to the surface initially. As he thought about how to solve her problem with fire. Even if he helped her, she’d probably tell him to go away. Last night was...odd. 

She had sat with him on the couch, shared a meal, and talked...a little. She had not ripped his head, or his dick off. Her steel gray eyes had not cut into him like usual.

Today, he planned to give her another present. And Cassian swore he would go insane if she refused it. 

He could not lose his temper, no matter how much she berated him. Nesta needed help. She was hollow inside; she didn’t feel anything right now. The cauldron had taken something from her, the war had taken more…

His first step was going to be the fire. Cassian would give her a tool to conquer it. If she’d let him.

And that was why he landed in front of a familiar shop, where he’d often purchased necessities for families who couldn’t afford what they needed to weather out life in the unforgiving mountains.

Emerie was behind the desk of the store when he walked in. It was empty like it usually was when he stopped by. She leaned against the counter, reading something she closed before he approached. 

She smiled a wide grin. “Clothing the poor and destitute?” 

“Not today,” Cassian said. “I need some earmuffs. The best ones you’ve got. For a woman,” he added, almost forgetting a male size would be too big. 

“For a woman?” Smiling rather wickedly, Emerie asked, “Will these be for the woman you’re keeping in that cabin outside town?” 

“Keeping?” Cassian chuckled. “I’m not holding her hostage, she refuses to come out.” Word got around fast. He hadn’t technically mentioned Nesta to anyone yet; here, even someone like Emerie, who was considered an outsider, already knew. Which meant everybody knew.

Emerie walked around him to a small display, grabbing what looked like earmuffs made from a pelt. They were small and delicate but looked like they would keep someone’s pointy ears warm. Although that was not why he wanted them. 

“So this woman,” Emerie asked before she began to wrap his purchase. “Is she your lover?” No wicked grin now, just an honest question. Her hands waited as she finished—she would not demand payment from the General. 

How blunt, he mused. “Why, do you want a date? Are you lonely, Emerie?” Even if Cassian felt the need to release his pent up passion, he could never do so with Nesta so close. He really couldn’t do that to her at all. Not to say Emerie wasn’t good-looking—

“I don’t prefer the company of men,” Emerie did not blush, to her credit. She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m just curious. People are talking, of course.” 

“Of course,” he agreed. Cassian grabbed his coin purse and paid her more than what the earmuffs were worth, pushing the money across the counter. “I would hope you wouldn’t be among them.” 

“I just listen,” she replied, and her pixie expression returned. “And I also notice...when people do not answer questions.” 

“How very perceptive of you,” he winked, before turning to leave. He yelled thank you as he strode through the door with a wave back.

* * *

Tags: @ourbooksuniverse @fourshizzle149 @shimmerglimmerandsparkle @witchy6fangirl @prab1213 @nuclearplanets @messyhairday-me @jqkienwksne @candid-confetti @mis-lil-red

[markleesthighs]

Black Mamba | Chapter 1

Pairings: reader x mark, reader x hendery, reader x jaehyun, feat. ot21

Genre: nct mafia!au, angst, fluff, light smut (suggestive), comical

Warnings: light swearing, mentions of death and blood

Words: 4.083k

【➀ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼】

Chapter 1 - The Origin

Seoul, Korea, 2005

y/n Wang, you were a sweet 6-year-old enjoying your life. You knew you lived lavishly, but your parents made sure you weren’t spoiled, they still wanted you to work for what you wanted. You wanted a new toy? Get a 100 on your next 3 tests. They would only give you gifts during holidays and birthdays. You knew you were different, everyone looked at you weird that you had bodyguards pick you up from school, and kids in school would stray away from you. You didn’t know what your parents did for work, they told you they worked in a business that paid a lot of money. The only friend you really had was your older brother, who was 5 years older than you. He was a moody 11-year old tween and talked to you when he wasn’t in a bad mood. You also didn’t get much attention from your parents being due to being busy, so you spent most of your time studying or reading.

One night, however, it’s blurred in your mind, so you only remember certain aspects of that night. Your brother came into your room and woke you up saying he heard gunshots and came in to make sure you were okay. You started to hear gunshots and trembling, hugging your brother. Your dad had trained your brother how to hide and use a gun and knives at such a young age since he would inherit your father’s business when he’s older. Your brother would be in life-threatening situations and needed to defend himself. But in tradition, you were to be guarded and protected, just like your mother, marry off to someone around your age in another high-ranking business, and bear their children. Soon the gunshots and screaming died down, your brother slowly picked you up and hid you behind his back holding his gun fearlessly ready to shoot anyone ready to attack either of you. Your eyes were shut, and you were praying to not let you or your family die right at this moment. You both were walking slowly around the house, and you felt your brother slowly drop his gun and felt him crying, and he ran down the stairs. You opened your eyes to see your mom and dad on the floor in a giant pool of blood. You saw your brother crying next to their lifeless bodies, and you joined him crying that you couldn’t see anymore. A few of your dad’s friends (more like uncles to the both of you) found both of you and took you away from the sight. You overheard they were both assassinated and did now know they had children, if they did, they would have killed both of us. You and your brother hugged each other tight praying your lives will get better, and you both will live on beyond their death.

The following day it was their funeral, you saw all your uncles and aunties and a lot of tears. You and your brother held hands that whole day and never let go. However, that was the last time you two would be together. You woke up the next morning and found your brother gone to the house, you saw your room had been emptied except for a change of clothes. You held your pajamas as you found your brother and uncles at the bottom of the staircase discussing before they turned to you with some bodyguards carrying your luggage.

“What’s going on?”

“Your brother is going to inherit your father’s business.”

“Okay, but why are they holding my luggage.”

“That also means you have no relation with your father’s business anymore, and for your own safety, you will be sent away, change your name, and have no relation to the Wang family anymore.”

“But- why-“

“I’m sorry, but there is no time for questions y/n.”

You looked at your brother who looked at you sadly, and he hugged you for one last time before saying his goodbyes.

“Goodbye y/n, I will always love you.”

“I love you too big brother.”

Your uncles cried at the sight of this, but you trusted your brother, hoping you knew what he was doing.

Unfortunately, you lived in another family that neglected you but raised you just as hard as your parents. You were lucky to live with another lavish family, but they would not tolerate spoiled brats either. They also ignored you, and never gave you anything but what you needed. Which was a home, food, water, and a good education. They never gave you love, or care, that your parents at least attempted to do, which was mainly during holidays. During the holidays you spent them alone, and you had no sibling to cope with. You became a very lonely person, and at school, you were a loner, since no one wanted to be your friend anyway. But the thought of that night your parents died, the word assassin kept popping into your mind. You had become so heartless with no morals and a heart with no love.

Seoul, Korea, 2017

Now, you were 18, you’ve been getting nightmares about your birth parents, and they would not stop. They were so bad that your parents took you to a doctor to get drugs for your night terrors.  But the idea of becoming an assassin floated through your head for the past 2 years, and you were considering doing it to get some money, now that you had to work. So, you moved you and your parents bought you a lovely modern high-security apartment for you to stay in. You decided to start working as an assassin. You studied up on their techniques, and mastered them, trained yourself jumping from building to building on Seoul skylines. You also got into contact with local weaponry stores, finding the best ones in the area. You also studied killing techniques with all different kinds of weapons, that you could even kill someone with a branch. You worked out and studied all hand to hand combat as well as poison and smoke gas methods. Your first kill was a security guard for a mafia gang in the city, worth ₩5,000,000. You studied the area for only 5 hours and determined the best time of the attack and what weaponry. After you successfully killed him, you felt nothing as you were raised with no love in your heart and lost all emotional connection to other humans. Your morality of the human race was gone. Your kills took about an hour tops, and you started to get recognized as a quick assassin, who knows how to get the job done. Soon, your prices rose as well as the targets, and you were overflowed with requests.

Seoul, Korea, 2018

You know had one of the best assassination businesses in the entire city, your parents didn’t care about what you did since they were too busy working and not bothering to care about you. You hired and trained several junior assassins who would take care of small assassinations for you and would stay in your apartment. But you only got out of the house for top assassinations, such as mafia leaders. You became known as the Crocodile, ready to kill anyone on command. One of your juniors came back to you with a letter, which was strange because you took your requests online rather than by letter. You opened the letter which reads:

“Hello, Crocodile,

I know this might be strange to be writing to you rather than by an email or online request, but I would like to offer a deal to you. As you are growing in popularity, I know you are growing in threats, as your killings have angered several mafias in the area. I also am aware that many have tracked down your location and have had several attempts in killing you and your peers. I can offer you and your peers’ safety, in exchange for you and your peers to work under me. If you are not interested, feel free to burn this paper. But, if you are intrigued and want to discuss more in detail, please contact me, and I will send you our location info

Sincerely,

~Mark Lee.”

“Hey, Aria, can you look up what group this ‘Mark Lee’ is in?”

“Ma'am, he’s in mafia NCT, one of the top male mafias in Seoul.”

“Male?”

“Yes, they are dominantly composed of male members.”

“Can you contact them, I would like to have a word with them.”

You sent a raven to their location stating the following:

“Mark Lee,

I am indeed in danger, numerous of my juniors and guards have been injured within the past month, but I have no intention of stopping my work. With much deliberation and thinking, I am considering your deal. Myself, and a few of my comrades will be attending to visit your base to further discuss other measures tomorrow night.

~Crocodile”

The next night you arrived at their base, which was a huge mansion, that reminded you of your childhood. You were dressed in ripped black jeans, a black turtleneck neck, and a black leather jacket. You still had your motorcycle helmet on, and you and your peers greeted the guards and verified your identity. You entered first noticing your peers would have to stay at the entrance. While an NCT mafia member led you to their meeting room. Two men tried to take your knives and shotguns hidden in your clothes, but you grabbed both of their wrists and flipped them, causing them to land hard on their backs. You saw who you assumed was Mark Lee and another man sitting next to him. He stood up and shook your hand to which you sat down across the desk from him while hearing his bodyguards slowly try to get up in pain.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Crocodile.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I’m sorry, can you please take off your helmet? I couldn’t quite hear you clearly.”

“Of course.”

You took off your helmet, and your long hair fell out and cascaded down your back.

“A woman??” They all said.

“Yeah, do any of you have a problem with that?”

“N-no not at all…”

“I have tried to conceal my gender since yourself and others would not have taken my work seriously.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s not my fault it's yours.”

“Moving on to the matter at hand, I will now explain the deal in detail. This is Taeyong, my right-hand man who will be taking notes and reminding me for anything I forgot to mention. You and your junior assassins will be working under the NCT group, meaning Crocodile Assassins will no longer exist. You will all be offered our resources including high-class protection, weaponry storage, shooting ranges, food and drinks in the kitchen, accommodation to the whole mansion, access to the best technology, our bathhouses, research lab, connections and alliances with other mafias, and many other endeavors. You and your juniors will be treated just as the same as anyone else within the NCT group and I promise none of them will be harassed or ousted in our facility. They will all undergo the same training as our trainees, as we want them to be diverse in all fields of use and figure out what they excel at. Any questions?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Since you are at a higher position than your juniors, we will put you in the executive position of interrogation?

“Interrogation?”

“Y-“

“You call the top assassin in the area only to put me in an interrogating position?”

“Our assassin department is already at its best, and your style of assassination is not favorable to our NCT policies. Crocodile Assassinations are known for being quick and messy, while here at NCT we pride our assassinations on mystery, stealth, and more slow-paced, to think out and cover up our tracks.”

“But what made you determine to put me in the interrogation department?”

“To be honest, we didn’t know what department we wanted to put you in, so right now we are going to test you to see if you fit.”

Mark and Taeyong stood up, and I followed them out of the room, glaring at the guards. We all walked to their interrogation rooms to which I saw a mirror-sided window and another person sitting at the table.

“This is Donghyuck, one of our youngest and talented men, who is impressively good at lying and bluffing information. All of our interrogators have not broken him, or have him admit to his crime.”

“What did he do.”

“He stole one of my watermelon juices.”

“…”

“What?”

“You brought me here just to have one of your men admit that they stole your watermelon juice??”

“Its a test, obviously, but in future, there will be criminals even harder to crack than himself, this department lacks a lot, and we need someone on board to help crack more people to get information. Recently, we’ve hit dead ends from our interrogators and have to rely on other departments.” “I see, I’ll give it a try.”

“We’ll leave you two alone, so you won’t feel pressured that you are being watched by us, the room is under surveillance and records everything, so do not worry about us not believing what he tells you.”

You entered the room to see Donghyuck surprised at your presence.

“The Crocodile? as in THE Crocodile, I-I’m a huge fan of your work.”

“I’m sorry to apologize that this isn’t a meet and greet, but an intervention.”

“For what?”

“You stole Mark’s watermelon juice, care to explain.”

“It's simple. I didn’t take it.”

For another 30 minutes it went on the constant denial of stolen watermelon juice, but then you turned to your last resort. Your father taught you a couple of short poems that you memorized by heart, and you noticed that each had its own effect on people. You looked through your mini book of poems and landed on the “All Seeing Eye” poem, and you mumbled it to yourself.

“I call upon the All Seeing Eye

able to detect the one who lies

to put an end to a crossfire

let them tell the truth to what I inquire.”

Your eyes glowed red with a ring a fire, and Donghyuck fell into your gaze, awaiting your questions.

“Did you steal Mark’s watermelon juice.”

“Yes”

“Why did you do it.”

“I was thirsty.”

After the lier told the truth the spell wears off, and you remember what happens, but the lier does not. Mark came in shortly after you were done.

“Congrats, you did it!”

“I knew I could.”

Donghyuck however, did not remember admitting anything. But Mark showed him the footage of him admitting it, you noticed that your eyes and spell, was not noticeable to cameras or the naked eye. You sighed in relief as no one knows about these poems or powers that you had. Afterward, you agreed to the deal offered by NCT after thinking about what would be best for yourself and your juniors. Then from that day on, you were part of the NCT mafia group, in the interrogation department.

Seoul, Korea, 2019

It had been about a year since you and your group had joined NCT, all of your juniors have been treated well and thank you almost every day for giving them this new life, safer, and more enjoyable. But you were not happy. However, now that people found out quickly, you were part of NCT and always got information out of people in the interrogation process, you developed a reputation as a horrifying interrogator. It got to the point where you never needed to say or do anything, and they would just tell you everything flat out. It got boring for you, so you had to tell Mark something. You had trained the department to be more efficient, so you know well they can still thrive and have improved since last year. You walked to Mark’s office and filed a complaint.

“You want to quit?”

“It’s BORING, Mark, I want a job where people don’t have to know me as the Crocodile and be intimidated by me, face to face.”

“But you are really good at it.”

“Does that mean its justified for my happiness? Just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean I’m happy doing it.”

Just as Mark was about to speak one of his men bursts in the room

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but the trainees shooting practice has been cut short. The executive weapons specialist has also gone trigger happy in the shooting range, and we have tackled him down and had him ready for your command to fire him.”

“Fire him and take me and Ms. y/l/n (your last name) down to the shooting range to see the damage Yuta.”

“Yes, sir.”

You all walked to the shooting range to see several bullets of different firearms that you recognized from machine guns to handguns. You also saw terrified trainees who looked at you in interest, since most of them have never actually seen you in person. It would not be a shock that they all started to whisper about you while you, Mark, and Yuta viewed the damage. Once Mark figured out everything he let Yuta continue teaching while you both watched. You noticed Yuta never taught them how to hold handguns and maneuver them, such as removing the safety, so half of them never shot when he commanded. You decided to help out. Teaching them how to load ammo and how to shoot the gun and fixing your stance. Mark noticed this that you knew a lot about weaponry, and decided to ask you about taking that position. Once you were done, Mark pulled you to the side, and you both walked to his office.

“So I was thinking….”

“Yeah”

“I think you are qualified and will be happy to hear that I want to move you as the executive weaponry specialist.”

“Really?”

“I know you will do well, and you seemed happy talking to Yuta about the handguns the trainees were using today.”

“Thank you.”

“I also thought since you don’t like to be known as the Crocodile anymore, you are part of NCT now.”

“And that is?”

“Black Mamba”

“Interesting. I like it”

Mark then led you down another hallway to an ominous lab where he gave the door fingerprint, eye, and facial scanner to open the door. It began to a simplistic, clean white lab filled with all types of guns, bombs, poison, ammo, traps, and all the weaponry in the world in this lab. Mark showed you where everything is, and you quickly memorized. Mark also tested your abilities giving you scenarios and if you could supply him with the best weaponry possible. You passed all of his tests and allowed you access to the lab. You and he were the only ones allowed in the lab. Soon after you noticed Mark coming to visit you more often on a daily basis. He told you it was for regular check-ups, but you started to warm up to Mark. Conversations about AK-47s turned into discussions about favorite tv shows and movies. He visited it you sometimes just to watch you, loading guns and designing new weapons, admiring you.

Valentine’s Day, Seoul, Korea, 2020

You hated this day, mainly because you thought it was a stupid holiday. But in the NCT base camp, everyone was still working just as hard, if not harder. No one in the company really had a relationship, and if they did, it was hidden from everyone else to ensure their safety. You were designing a new weapon when Mark came in a greeted you with a coffee (just the way you like it) and a croissant, as usual. You didn’t look at him when he came in since you were focused on designing a new gun for underwater missions. Mark peered over your shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Working”

Mark chuckled he you turned around to face him to which you notice he was holding something behind his back.

“Sit down.”

You sat down on your office chair and looked at Mark in curiosity

“I know you hate this holiday.”

“You know me well.”

“But I decided to get you something.”

Mark revealed to have a bouquet of flowers behind his back and showed them to you

“What are these for.”

“They are for you.”

“B-“

“y/n y/l/n will you be my Valentine?”

You burst out laughing, thinking it was a joke, but you saw the disappointment in Mark’s face, and he looked like he was about to cry. You did have feelings for Mark, but it was the first time you felt loved in a long time and was hesitant to tell Mark. You were unsure if Mark felt the same way or if you two were just friends.

“Oh! Mark….please don’t cry awww.” “You’re so mean.”

“Of course I’ll be your Valentine.”

Mark smiled and lifted you up, spinning you around and hugging you.

“But for future reference, no flowers, they die anyway.” “Okay, oh! I have one more thing to give you turn around..”

“Okay….”

Mark grabbed something from his back pocket, and you felt cold metal go round your neck, and you looked down and saw a simple silver necklace with a pendant marked with a letter “M.” He clipped it and lifted your hair over it and turned you around. He hugged you and kissed the top of your head and whispered,

“Never take this off, you only do if you do not love me anymore. We can’t let anyone know we are dating, we can’t let the others know I have a weakness.”

You fiddled and played with it, and he was holding you. You nodded and understood, you had to date in secret to protect each other, and protect NCT. You then looked at Mark and slowly and gently pecked him on the lips. He blushed and kissed you back, and you both were smitten. Later that night after work was over, as you were about to walk to your room, you were pulled to the side by someone. He back-hugged you and put his head in your neck.

“You can sleep in my room you know…”

“Mmh, Maaarrk, I still have to get my pajamas.” “Just wear one of my hoodies, let's go.”

Mark led you into his room, which you saw for the first time, it was surprisingly clean and smelled like cinnamon and whiskey. He led you into his walk-in closet and showed you his collection of hoodies for you to choose from. You chose a black hoodie with some red text on it, and you put it on as it smelled like musk and light hints of cigarettes. You shyly walked out in his hoodie, which covered your whole body and awaiting Mark’s reaction. He didn’t say anything except he walked up to you and hugged you kissing your temple while you hugged him back with sweater paws. You both cuddled in bed for the first time, and you timidly nuzzled up to his chest while his arm was wrapped around you. That was one of many nights that followed in that bedroom, and you no longer slept in your room for a long time.

You both subtly tried to flirt with each other while others were around, whether it be giving cute looks to each other, or you both coming to visit each other during the work days. But every night you both slept in the same bed. Mark was the first person you felt close in a long time, someone you could trust and love for the rest of your life.

Seoul, Korea 2023

Here you are today, the head executive weapon specialist in NCT, and secretly dating mafia leader Mark, for now, three years. You two have only gotten closer, and you’ve come to trust him with your life. No one found out about your relationship, and you both were happy. You helped with several of NCT missions and was now family to NCT. To be honest, everyone saw you and Mark more as close friends than a couple. You soon also had a lot of admirers from members to trainees. You enjoyed this life, and you hope nothing will ever change that. But as they all say, nothing lasts forever.

next chapter→

follow me to get updates on the series!

~n ✧*:･ﾟ

[mrs-i-have-too-many-biases]

Yandere!Stray Kids Wedding Series: The bachelor party (2/4)

Scenario: How would they react to their fiancé wanting to throw a bachelor part. Genre: Fluff/ Angst Pairing: Reader X Stray kids Members Requested: Yes, by @petalskook : “Can I ask for a reaction to skz!yandere, How would your wedding be?” A/n: I thought it would be fun to make this a series so I did.

Word count: 2,1k

Author’s note: I added some more things to your request, because I felt like it fit the story well. I hope you like it.

Warning: Yandere themes, swearing, mentions of death, toxic relationships, do not read if uncomfortable

Chan:

‘A bachelor party? Sure why not? If that makes her happy, why not?’ That was Chan’s mind-set when his fiancé had brought up the idea of throwing a bachelor party. “Of course baby, I’ll even arrange it for you.” He suggested, kissing her forehead. “You’re the best baby.” She whispered on his lips, before she left.

The only reason why Chan agreed on throwing a bachelor party for her is, because he had killed off most of her threats. Chan would remove people who were against their relationship in silent. He had no time or place for haters and so did his beloved fiancé. He absolutely loved calling her that. So when her, approved, friends came to the bachelor party, he’d be clingy and bragging about her in front of her friends. Their eyes would be sparkling in happiness as they giggled at their cuteness.

Chan would be satisfied by their behaviour, he chose the right people to stay it seemed. The party was simple, with the couple of friends she had over they would dance crazily to the music, Chan would be a gentleman and provide them of drinks and food. Eventually the girls would send Chan upstairs, the soon-to-be-husband wasn’t supposed to see the bride until the wedding.

With pain in Chan’s heart he would kiss his fiancé passionately goodbye, before he disappeared upstairs, little did they all know he had microphones hidden all over the place. He knew he chose the right friends, but that didn’t mean he trusted them alone with his precious princess.

Woojin:

He wasn’t too sure about having a party. The thought of him not seeing her for a full day killed him. And she knew it. She knew how much he hated being away from her. Only bathroom visits and quick showers were the times that Woojin could bare to leave her alone. He needed to be with her 24/7, otherwise he would malfunction.

“Baby, please. It will be so much fun and I’ll be able to see my friend-“ “Why would you need to see your friend? You’ve got me right? Don’t you love me anymore? Don’t you dare to tell me that you regret saying yes princess, otherwise-“ “No! No! Wait,” she cut him off. “I want to celebrate my engagement and my wedding with my friends. I want to celebrate with them that I’ve found the love of my life.” The last sentence did it for Woojin. He couldn’t help, but let the smile creep onto his face.

“I give you four hours, nothing more, nothing less. If it makes you happy then, alright. But there will be some rules, alright baby?” He muttered lowly as he stepped closer and closer to her, towering over her. “You will not talk to other man. If I find out you did, and you know I will, you will be in big trouble baby. You’ll have to earn this party okay? So be good for me, yeah?” He’d whisper against her neck. “I will my love.” “Good girl, I love you.”

Minho:

Just like Chan, he’d say easily yes to a bachelor party. He had arranged everything for her. ‘So she could just focus on being pretty at the wedding.’ He had rented a five-star restaurant for her and her friends. He had paid the chefs to cook as much for them as they wanted to. He paid the bartender enough, the girls could drink for weeks, but Minho didn’t care. He wanted her to be happy.

Little did the girls know that Minho had access to all the cameras that were hidden in the restaurant. He had every staff member under shot, even though they didn’t know. He kept his eyes on his precious fiancé, checking if she obeyed his rules. Which was to not talk to other men, to not touch them, to not look at them, otherwise the consequences would be harsh and she knows. She has been through them before.

“I’m sorry baby, I hate doing this. Nevertheless, you’ve been a bad girl. And bad girls need to be punished. So take it you brat and be my good girl again!”

Minho looked on the screen, seeing that the girls were about to order. He kept his yes like a hawk on her as it was her turn to order. She had turned to her friend and told her what she wanted, who passed on the order to the waiter. Minho leaned back, a smile resting on his lips. Happy to know that his baby was obedient to his orders, it was a sign of love to him.

Changbin:

A bachelor party? You mean an ‘I-am-not-able-to-see-my-baby-for-hours’ torture? Changbin hated the idea. He didn’t wanted to throw a part where they couldn’t see each other for almost a day. He needed to be around her. She was his oxygen, how could she be so selfish? Didn’t she wanted to be with him? Then Changbin thought of the greatest thing; a shared bachelor party.

“But, that’s not a traditional bachelor party.” She would say in a soft voice as she sat on his lap. “Just think about it baby. You, me a party where we still celebrate our lives, before our married life will come. I want to spend every single minute with you baby. That’s why I wanted to marry you; don’t you want to do the same?” He asks innocently.

She couldn’t say no. Now she was dancing with her fiancé on her bachelor party. He couldn’t even care any less about his ‘friends’ that he invited. He also couldn’t care any less that her friends wanted her to pay attention to them. He didn’t wanted to share her. He never did. She was going to become his anyway, they should get used to it already.

Hyunjin:

No. Just no. Hyunjin didn’t wanted to be away from you for a second. Bathroom visits were in pairs. Showers were in pairs. He’d follow her anywhere. Why would she need space when she has him? She’s all his. And she will be his forever. He’d do anything for her. Anything.

“But, baby. It will be so much fun-“ “I said no. It’s like you don’t love me anymore.” He pouts. “N-no. I do love you. I love you so much, but I wanted to spend some time with my friends-“ “Is that what you want? You know they are not your friends; they turned their backs to you. You know that. Is that why you’ve been acting so well lately, I knew that it was too good to be true.” “Hyunjin no-“ “No, I see how it is, you don’t love me anymore.” He let her out of his grip, looking away from her. He knew how he could play her; he knew how he could get what he wanted.

“N-no, Hyunjin I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you.” She gave up. And he knew it. He turned back to her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. “That’s my good princess.”

Jisung:

Just like Hyunjin, he’d wouldn’t want to throw a bachelor party. Fuck no. The boy would start to panic just by the thought of it. He even forbid her to see anyone else, she wasn’t allowed to go outside without him, so throwing a bachelor party was a nightmare coming true for Jisung. ‘What if she finds out? That would mean the end.’ No, he couldn’t let that happen.

“But Jisung-“ “No! They will take you away from me! Is that what you want? To get away from me? You know that I can’t live without you! I need you! You’re everything I have! Why are you so selfish! You don’t love me!” He yelled with tears streaming over his cheeks. “No Jisung- I do love you! You know what, let’s forget the party. Why don’t we get some dinner. Just you and me.” She suggested when she saw how broken Jisung had gotten, thinking it was his separation anxiety. Which it was, but she was too naive to see his real face.

“That would be nice baby, I know a place where the two of us can be alone.”

Felix:

He would let her, but he insisted to hire bodyguards. He didn’t wanted be apart from her, but he couldn’t blow his cover. He hated how happy she was when he let her throw the party. He arranged the party with pain in his heart.

He had rented a mansion in the mountains, where the party would take place. He’d watch over her through the hidden cameras he had places throughout the house, just like Minho did. The party would go well. He remembered setting the rules with her: “If I see you even looking at another guy, I might have to chain you down. Do you remember that baby, the feeling of those cold metals chains against your hot skin? You cried so much that night, I thought you might get dehydrated. You don’t want to do that again, don’t you?” 

“N-no.” 

“Then be a good girl Y/n, you know that I love you right?” 

“I love you too.” 

“Good girl.”

Meanwhile as the party was almost to its end. Felix sat at home, packing his bags to pick up his beloved fiancé, that’s what she thought at least when he texted her that he was on his way. Did those bastards who he hired really think they would be still alive at the end of the night? They had to stare at his girl the whole night, only he could to that. They had to pay for what they did.

Seungmin:

Another whiny baby, he didn’t wanted her to go. But after some convincing, he let her. She’d have a nice day with her friends at the mall, getting dinner and later that night the girls would go out to dance. Seungmin tried, he really tried, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be with her. He followed her around all day, ignoring his own promises.

“Baby, I will keep you updated all day, okay?” “Good, I hate not having you here. The house is so empty, my heart feels so empty without you around.” He’d say as he clung onto her. “It will be alright baby, I’ll be in your arms again in no time.” She’d say to him. And she was indeed in his arms again in no time. Seungmin had been following the girls around like a shadow, the urge of wanting to see her was too strong for the boy to handle. He ‘accidentally’ kept running into the girls, in the mall, at the restaurant and even at the dance. “You couldn’t stay away, could you?” She whispered in his ear as they danced together. 

“Spending time with you is so much better than being apart from each other, let’s never do that again.” 

“Okay,” was all she said in responds, but it was enough for Seungmin to calm his restlessness.

Jeongin:

Nobody should underestimate this boy, just because he’s young. He had taken out more people than the other boys and you could blame his hormones as an excuse. He had followed his older friends’ footsteps by setting up cameras in his and Y/n’s shared house. Hiring bodyguards would be just a waste of money, he would kill them anyway. No other man, but Jeongin was allowed to breathe the same air as Y/n. Unless Jeongin was there, but still then, he would glare at every man, wanting to kill them, seeing them as a threat.

A couple of, female, friends were over at their shared house and Y/n had pushed her fiancé into their shared bedroom. He whined as she kissed him goodbye to go to her friends. Jeongin wasn’t worried. The girls knew Jeongin had his mood swings and they were too scared to do or say anything about it, they didn’t wanted to be killed. There used to be one more of them, but she tried to tell Y/n who Jeongin really was. Y/n had gotten upset over her and told Jeongin, who eventually killed her.

Therefore, Jeongin wasn’t too worried, he had them all wrapped around his finger.

Gifs aren’t mine.

@klynvan @daebakshinki

[contes-de-rheio]

Creating an army

For the needs of Rising Queens, I had to create an army. Since I'm an accountant and have never served in the military nor lived sometime between 1650 and 1820... I knew nothing about how to do that, so I researched, not a lot, but enough I think to give some tips and directions to anyone planning to do the same crazy thing.

Let's get started. Please note this is for fantasy writers, a number of elements do not apply to modern or futuristic armies. (words with a * are translated in French at the end, because I'm a little chauvinist)

1. How big is your army ?

So, if your army is a professional army, in clear if soldiers are soldiers all year long and paid for it, the size of your army is limited. Mostly because resources are not infinite, and your army depends on the rest of the population to be fed. This rule would also apply for mercenaries, as your nation must still be able to pay them.

In consequence, its size should not be more than 1% of the population. This number was true in the past, and is still true today. And 1% is the upper limit, it assumes your nation is able to collect taxes efficiently!! If it's not, your army must be smaller, or your nation will go bankrupt.

If your army is not professional, then the problem is a little different: your soldiers are no longer working all year long. The question is how big can your army be during x time? The longer the war/conflict lasts, the smaller your army will be, as your resources are limited and you need people to tend to the land. Or you can have a big starving army, your choice (or a starving population... or both...). After some research, it happens that number is 7% of the population for a period of 90 days (which was the length of a campaign season).

2. Support

So, yes, your soldiers are soldiering, or at least a part of them is... the rest is working as support, they are the spine of your army, without them everything could crumble. Without them you don't have supplies, or meals, or doctors, or clothes, or payslips or...

Among the various support departments in military, we will first start with one that probably was the biggest: Supplies (aka Furir*). They originally were in charge of housing and food for men and animals, but over time they came to be in charge of all supplies, including their logistics. In the French Navy, they once were in charge of payslips. Without them, you don’t have food, but you also don’t have uniforms, weapons, or munitions...

While we are here, let's note that most armies, while away from home, survived through plunder of the land around them. Which is great if you're not staying in the same place too long, and if your enemy does not decide to burn everything left behind. Mercenaries, who were not paid by their employer, also plundered the land of their employer as a form of revenge.

The Postal Service* is like a web, they have a presence everywhere in the military organisation (including schools, jails, navy...). Not only do they make sure the letters are sent to the right person, but they also take care of censoring the letters of the soldiers. This is a job that require discretion as you might end up in the confidence of secrets that do not concern you nor the public.

The War Commissaries* are in charge of the administration of the army, which includes: finances, human resources, audit and control, law assistance, accounting. In some cases, Furir and Postal Services are also incorporated under their supervision.

One of the support functions we probably don’t think much about are the surgeons. Doctors, especially, surgeons were a priority on a battlefield. Mostly they acted after the battle, but they also took care of the soldiers all year long in a professional army. Military hospitals were created, some of them were used as medical schools too, and not all of them were situated in a military base. I haven’t been able to find if any ancient military hospital was opened to the public, but I personally don’t see why not. Generally each company (about 100 men) had one surgeon.

I will not discuss soldier being soldier, if you want more information on this, I will leave some links at the end of this article, please refer to it.

3. Army or Not ?

Some people, depending of your organisation, of your country, may be considered part of your army, even though their role is unrelated to the protection of the country against foreign forces, such as: police, spies, customs...

It really depends on how you see your organisation as a whole, and also who pay who, or what Minister these people depend from. For example, the police might be paid directly by the city thanks to local taxes, while customs are under the supervision of the Finance Minister, and spies answer directly to the Crown. Or you can incorporate them in your army.

4. Equipment

The main question in regards to equipment is who provides what. There have been times, when each soldier was expected to procure themselves their own equipment: armor and weapons, horse, sometimes even food. You could tell a soldier's social background with just a look. 

In some cases, the obligation to procure one's own equipment was attached to citizenship. Only citizens were required by law to serve in the army, and to be citizen you were required to have a given level of revenues.

At all times, heavier weapons (for siege, and later canons) were provided by the State or the lords.

5. Hierarchy

There are two main type of hierarchies: hierarchical (or traditional) and flat. My partner could tell you all about the advantages and disadvantages of both in details (and how mixed/new models exist), but for our purposes let's keep it simple.

Here is a drawing of both systems:

The bigger your army is, the less likely your hierarchy will be flat, for the very simple reason that your general in chief (or king, or whatever their actual title is) cannot be everywhere at once and has to delegate their power to keep the whole system working. In fact, at some point, the higher men in the hierarchy become strategists and/or administrators. Furthermore, if the official leader of your army is indeed the king, they might still need to delegate as 1) they are running a kingdom, and might need the time for something else, 2) they are very bad at leading an army (not everybody can be Frederic II or Napoleon...).

Next thing to determine is the numbers of levels in your hierarchy. I would advise to keep it as simple as possible. As an example, in Rising Queens, my army has 7 levels of hierarchy (including the soldiers without rank). Each rank correspond to an unity (i.e. company, regiment...). I merely added some nuances to distinguish some Navy ranks: a General and an Admiral have the same rank, but the later serves in the Navy.

If you want to get an idea of what ranking system you can implement, I would suggest you hit Wikipedia, as they have the organisations of a few armies listed. Just never forget reality is always more complex than fiction.

6. Magic

If you have magic in your universe, consider how it changes war strategy and organisation.

And since someone wrote extensively on the subject, allow me to redirect you to @warsofasoiaf post, right here.

Don't hesitate to drop me a message for questions, clarifications or comments :)

Some Useful Links

On Demography

Medieval Demography made easy (French version)

Notes on Medieval Population Geography

Medieval WorldBuilding Mega-Tutorial (includes info about army, and many other details)

On Armies and fighting

@transcriptroopers is a great resource about the life of modern soldiers.

@writenavy for anything related to Navy, both ancient and modern.

@howtofightwrite advices for anything regarding fighting, in nearly any context.

Medieval Warfare

Writing a War

Vocabulary - French translations

Furir - Fourrière (du mot fourrage)

Postal service - Vaguemestre

Commissaries - Commissaires (du mot commission, dans le sens de paie)

[ianspirations]

DEI VERBUM: Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation

The aim of this document is to “set forth authentic doctrine on divine revelation and how it is handed on, so that by hearing the message of salvation the whole world may believe, by believing it may hope, and by hoping it may love.” (DV 1)

God chose to reveal himself as a friend by living among human beings and inviting them “into fellowship with Himself” (DV 2). God revealed Himself through Words and Deeds: the deeds refer to the things He did through history that have added credibility to the spoken Words. Since God chose to reveal Himself most powerfully through Jesus, Jesus becomes “both the mediator and the fullness of all revelation” (DV 2).

God the creator, offers human beings a glimpse of Himself in the created realities around them (cf. Rom 1:19-20). Knowing that nature itself wasn’t revealing enough, He chose to reveal Himself personally to humankind. The first chapters of Genesis record this initial revelation. The Great Fall gave humankind hope that God’s promise of salvation would be fulfilled. God carefully guided the human race and offered ‘eternal life to those who persevered in doing good.’ Through the patriarchs like Abraham the prophets from Moses onwards, “He taught this people to acknowledge Himself the one living and true God, provident father and just judge, and to wait for the Saviour promised by Him, and in this manner prepared the way for the Gospel down through the centuries” (DV 3).

Finally, God chose to speak to human beings as one among them and therefore “He sent His Son, the eternal Word” who came as ‘a man to men’ speaking the words of God and completing the work of salvation (DV 4). “Jesus perfected revelation by fulfilling it through his whole work of making Himself present and manifesting Himself: through His words and deeds, His signs and wonders, but especially through His death and glorious resurrection from the dead and final sending of the Spirit of truth” (DV 4). Jesus through all of these actions confirmed what God had been revealing all along, namely that He is with us and wishes to free us from the darkness of sin and death, and to give us eternal life. Since God revealed Himself fully through Jesus, we ought to expect no further new public revelation until Jesus manifests Himself fully and finally at the end of time.

God’s revelation requires “the obedience of faith” (Rom 16:26) by which human beings commit themselves wholly and freely to God. This act of faith cannot be exercised without Divine Grace and the assistance of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit plays a crucial role in the understanding of revelation by strengthening faith through His gifts. (DV 5)

“Through divine revelation, God chose to show forth and communicate Himself and the eternal decisions of His will regarding the salvation of men” (DV 6). This simply means that God wanted human beings to know and love Him that is why He revealed Himself to them. God can be known by human reason and reflection on created reality but through revelation we are able to grasp “those religious truths which are by their nature accessible to human reason…with solid certitude and with no trace of error” (DV 6).

God wanted that His revelation reach all people and all nations “in its full integrity.” Therefore, Jesus commissioned the Apostles to preach the Gospel “which is the source of all saving truth and moral teaching and to impart to them heavenly gifts” (DV 7). The Gospel was foretold by the prophets and was fulfilled by Jesus. The Apostles faithfully carried out the Divine mandate by their preaching and some of them, along with other inspired persons “committed the message of salvation to writing” (DV 7). The Apostles appointed Bishops as their successors and charged them with the authority to preserve the Gospel and its tradition and teach in their own settings. Sacred Tradition and Sacred Scripture are like the two lenses with which the Church looks at God.

In order to ensure faithfulness to the tradition, the Apostles would offer exhortations and teachings either through their preaching or through letters. “What was handed on by the Apostles includes everything which contributes toward the holiness of life and increase in faith of the peoples of God; and so the Church, in her teaching, life and worship, perpetuates and hands on to all generations all that she herself is, all that she believes” (DV 8). This tradition is guided by the Holy Spirit evidenced by the fact that there is a growth in understanding revelation. The teachings of the Fathers of the Church and the successors of the Apostles (bishops) are drawn from and influence the life of the Church. Tradition has given us the canon of sacred books and also provides the background for understanding and interpreting them. God continues to reveal Himself to the Church through the Scriptures.

Scripture and Tradition are closely connected since they spring up from the same Divine source and culminate in the same end. Scripture is the Word of God since it is written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit while Tradition takes the Word of God and hands it down from generation to generation faithfully and purely. Thus, both of them have “to be accepted and venerated with the same sense of loyalty and reverence” (DV 9).

Both of them together form “one sacred deposit of the word of God.” (DV 10). Both the clergy and the laity participate in faithfully observing and practicing the heritage of the faith. The task of authentically interpreting the word of God is entrusted exclusively to the ‘teaching office of the Church, whose authority is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ (Bishops). This teaching office is not above the Scriptures but serves it by teaching only what has been handed down and what is inspired by the Holy Spirit. This widens the deposit of the word of God to also include the teaching authority of the Church which is also called the Magisterium or teachings of the Bishops.

The Church holds that scripture in its entirety (Old and New Testaments) was written under Divine inspiration by human authors who used their own abilities to write down everything that God wanted them to. Thus, the Church considers the scriptures to be without error with regard to those things pertaining to God. (DV 11).

However, since God chose to communicate through human authors, those who desire to understand and interpret Scripture must pay careful attention to “what God wanted to communicate… (and) should carefully investigate what meaning the sacred writers really intended” (DV 12). In order to better grasp the intention of the writers, it would help to pay attention to ‘literary forms’ among other tools. In order to get a better idea, “due attention must be paid to the customary and characteristic styles of felling, speaking and narrating which prevailed at the time of the sacred writer, and to the patterns men normally employed at that period in their everyday dealings with one another” (DV 12). In doing this, one must not neglect looking at a particular passage within the context of the whole of scripture. The tradition of the Church must also be taken into consideration.

Scripture reveals to us the humility of God who chose to convey His truth and identity through human language; in a similar fashion, he chose to share human nature (DV 13).

In order to initiate His plan of salvation for the whole human race, the Lord of infinite wisdom chose a people for Himself to whom He entrusted His promises. Through Abraham and Moses, He entered into a covenant with the people of Israel. He manifested Himself to them through words and deeds. This history is recorded in the Old Testament and therefore remains “permanently valuable” (DV 14).

The principal aim of the Old Testament was to prepare for the coming of Christ. The Old Testament reveals “the knowledge of God and of man and the ways in which God, just and merciful, deals with men” (DV 15). The Old Testament with its limitations shows us “true divine pedagogy” (DV 15). “These same books, then, give expression to a lively sense of God, contain a store of sublime teachings about God, sound wisdom about human life, and a wonderful treasury of prayers, and in them the mystery of our salvation is present in a hidden way” (DV 15).

God, the divine author, wisely chose that the New Testament be hidden in the Old. The Old Testament is fulfilled by the New and help by shedding light on the New Testament and explaining it. (DV 16). The New Testament is a witness to the revelation of God in the person of Jesus. Jesus’ words and deeds and the fulfilment of His work by His death, resurrection and ascension are all contained in the New Testament. (DV 17). The Gospels hold a central place among all of the Scriptures even among the New Testament because “they are the principal witness for the life and teaching of the incarnate Word, our saviour” (DV 18). The Gospel is the ‘foundation of faith’ and is ONE though fourfold, according to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

The four gospels faithfully hand on the story of Jesus which was enriched by their witness of Christ’s life and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. They wrote the Gospels, “selecting some things from the many which had been handed on by word of mouth or in writing, reducing some of them to a synthesis, explaining some things in view of the situation of their churches and preserving the form of proclamation but always in such fashion that they told us the honest truth about Jesus” (DV 19). Besides the Gospels, the New Testament contains the epistles of Paul and other apostolic writings which deal with matters concerning the Church and Christ the Lord (DV 20).

The Church venerates the Scriptures as she venerates the body of the Lord. Through the liturgy she offers the faithful both ‘God’s word and Christ’s body.’ The scriptures offer the word of God Himself and make the voice of the Holy Spirit heard in the words of the prophets and Apostles. Therefore, all preaching must be founded on Scripture. Through the Scriptures, “the Father who is in heaven meets His children with great love and speaks with them; and the force and power in the word of God is so great that it stands as the support and energy of the Church, the strength of faith for her sons, the food of the soul, the pure and everlasting source of spiritual life” (DV 21).

The Church desired that the Scriptures be easily accessible to all the faithful. For this reason, she accepted the very ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament called the Septuagint while also giving due honour to the Eastern Latin translation known as Vulgate. Keeping in mind her responsibility for providing correct translations into other languages, the Church is careful in approving translations and recommends certain translations (DV 22). The Church desires to arrive at a deeper understanding of the Scriptures so that she can offer her children more solid food to use a Pauline expression. To this end, she encourages the study of the writings of the Church Fathers both Eastern and Western. She directs Catholic exegetes and students of sacred theology to “devote their energies, under the watchful care of the sacred teaching office of the Church, to an exploration and exposition of the divine writings” (DV 23). The aim of this should be to equip people to be ‘ministers of the divine word’ who are able to effectively enlighten people’s minds, strengthen their wills and set their hearts on fire with the love of God.

“Sacred theology rests on the written word of God, together with sacred tradition, as its primary and perpetual foundation” (DV 24). Theology should scrutinize the truth contained in them with the light of faith and in turn be rejuvenated by them. Since the scriptures contain the word of God, their study forms the soul of theology. “By the same word of Scripture the ministry of the word also, that is, pastoral preaching, catechetics and all Christian instruction, in which the liturgical homily must hold the foremost place, is nourished in a healthy way and flourishes in a holy way” (DV 24).

All clergy must engage in ‘diligent sacred reading and careful study’ of Scripture especially priests, deacons and catechists who are active in the ministry of the word. This is important so as to avoid becoming empty preachers who preach without practicing. The Church encourages all its faithful but especially the religious to “learn by frequent reading of the divine Scriptures” the knowledge of Jesus (DV 25). It is important that every Christian keep in touch with the word either proclaimed in the liturgy or read personally. Prayer should always accompany the reading of scripture “so that God and man may talk together” (DV 25). It is the responsibility of the Bishops to give to the faithful instructions regarding the use of divine books especially the New Testament and the Gospels in particular. Editions of the scriptures with suitable footnotes could help the faithful and other Christians to “become conversant with the Sacred Scriptures and be penetrated with their spirit” (DV 25).

The reading and study of scripture will ensure that “the treasure of revelation, entrusted to the Church, may more and more fill the hearts of men” (DV 26).

[go4blood]

can we be seventeen?

It is finally time. Broadway!Michael. Heathers. Best friends to lovers. U know how we do. sorry I’m on mobile and can’t do the read more feature 😔

4k words

—

High School was the time of your life. You spent everyday after school with your best friend in the theatre. You two had many starring roles together, such as Tracy and Link in Hairspray, Sally Bowles and Cliff Bradshaw from Cabaret, and so many more. You two decided you both wanted to take on broadway. That being said, you bought an apartment together- a tiny one that is- in New York City. It was your 2nd month in New York. You loved it more than anything, but you were a starving artist. You had a few commercial roles and did some work in some short films, but you wanted to be on stage. You wanted people applauding you every night. You both wanted that.

But it’s hard to get on broadway. Broadway isn’t something easy to achieve.

The door to your apartment opened and interrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N! The restaurant was super busy today, so I think I got enough tip money to get the WiFi back on.” Michael walked through the door, car keys in hand, wearing a white button shirt with a black tie, along with black dress pants. Michael worked at a fancy Italian restaurant in the heart of New York City that only rich people can afford. He absolutely hated working there. It was far from his dream, but they had to pay the bills somehow. You worked at a coffee house yourself, and most of the time your money went towards bills and necessities only. And people hardly ever tip.

“Thank God! I’ve missed Netflix so much.” He laughed and you grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch. Michael was a great roommate. He always paid his share of everything, and he kept the living area clean. His room is another story, but at least you didn’t have to always see his room.

“I found our next audition! I forgot to tell you, when I was driving to work I saw that Heathers is currently being casted for broadway!”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “I’m beginning to think we should’ve stayed home, it’s so hard to make it out here in New York…”

He scoffed, looking at you in your eyes, “Is my best friend, Y/N L/N, the one who forced me to audition for Oklahoma our freshman year, giving up? Come on now, that’s not the Y/N I know! Come on, auditions are tomorrow morning, it’s worth a shot.”

You pondered for a moment, thinking of the possibilities. This is what you came to New York for, after all. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“Fine, we’ll go. Just don’t get your hopes up…”

“I won’t, I promise. Now… I assume we’re having ramen again?”

“You know it.”

—

You sat beside Michael and looked around at who was at the audition. You could already tell that type casting would come into play, which made you nervous. You weren’t sure if you fit into any of these roles. What if you were wasting your time? You’d be lucky if you got to be a chorus member. Michael looked up from the paperwork as if he could sense how nervous you were.

“Relax, Y/N. You’ve been this way since High School! I remember auditions for Hairspray; you nearly had a panic attack the day of callbacks. And you rocked it! What are you scared of?”

“Failure, Michael.” You frowned and looked at him. He sighed, looking into your eyes.

“My best friend has never been a failure. Don’t even begin to think you’re a failure! Every good actor and actress struggled before succeeding.” He gave you a reassuring smile, and weight lifted off of your shoulders. Maybe he was right. In fact, he was right. You have to fall before you fly sometimes.

“Thank you, Michael.” You smiled as he smiled back at you. You wouldn’t wanna be struggling with anyone else.

A woman who seemed to be the director interrupted your thoughts, “Good morning everyone, welcome to the audition for Heathers. Shall we begin?” Everyone silently nodded, and the director cleared her throat, “the numbers my assistant gave to you when you walked in will now come into play… let’s start with #1. Come on up.”

You froze. You were #1. No pressure, right? You got up from your seat and walked up onto the stage, ready to perform the provided audition material. All of the girls were using audition material for the part of Veronica, the lead female part. No pressure.

You introduced yourself briefly and began, projecting with purpose, “My parents wanted to move me into high school out of the sixth grade, but we decided to chuck the idea because I’d have trouble making friends, blah, blah, blah. Now blah, blah, blah is all I ever do. I use my grand IQ to decide what color lip gloss to wear in the morning and how to hit three keggers before curfew… Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads. Killing Heather would be like offing the wicked witch of the west… wait east. West! God! I sound like a fucking psycho….Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people “real life.” She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.”

You emphasized certain things and changed tone when you felt it was needed. You wanted this so bad. But this wasn’t it! This was a musical, so you had to sing. You looked at the music provided for you and cued the piano player to begin playing. The song you were told to sing was “Fight For Me”. You sang each note with purpose. You wanted this more than anything. Before you knew it, you were done with your audition, and you sat back down in the audience beside Michael. He mouthed ‘good job’ to you, smiling. Before he knew it, it was his turn to audition.

The men auditioning read material for JD, the leading male part. You looked over what Michael had to perform, and the monologue was quite intense.

He cleared his throat and began with an intense tone of voice, “Can't believe you did it! I was teasing. I loved you! Sure, I was coming up here to kill you... First I was gonna try and get you back with my amazing petition. It's a shame you can't see what our fellow students really signed. Listen ‘We, students at Westerburg High will die. Today. Our buring bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us. Fuck you all!’ It's not very subtle, but neither is blowing up a whole school, now is it? Talk about your suicide pacts, eh? When our school blows up tomorrow, it's gonna be the kind of thing that affects a whole generation! It'll be the Woodstock for the 80's! Damn it Veronica! We could have roasted marshmallows together!”

He was so talented. You would be damned if he didn’t get a role in this production. He then finished out his audition with the song “Meant To Be Yours”. He did amazing. He always put his all into his auditions. You were proud to be his friend. He walked off stage after he finished, and you both left.

—

As each day passed you absolutely could not stop thinking about callbacks. You were so anxious about whether you were gonna get one or not. You at least hoped Michael would get one so he could live out his dream if you couldn’t.

With each latte you made at work all that was on your mind was the possibility of getting a callback. At one point, you couldn’t even remember how to make an iced americano. They said they’d call you no matter what to let you know, which made you even more anxious. And everyday Michael came home from work all he talked about was callbacks and how bad he wanted this opportunity.

“I know you’ll make it, Michael. I mean come on, you’re extremely talented and you knocked that audition out of the park!”

“I did mediocre at best! You’re the one who’s gonna make it. You’re gonna be amazing in that cast. I’d rather you get it than me.”

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes, “You mean that, Mikey?”

“Would I lie to you? No. I wouldn’t. You’re amazing.”

—

You ran into Michael’s room after your shift at the coffee shop, shaking him awake, “I just got a callback during my shift! I get another audition tomorrow!”

“I got one too! While you were gone! We got callbacks!”

You two jumped up onto Michael’s bed and jumped in celebration. You were unbelievably happy.

“Well you know what that means… it’s a special occasion!” Michael ran to the kitchen and you followed behind him. He pulled out the boxed wine from the cabinet and got the plastic wine glasses out too.

The boxed wine was a tradition in your friendship. When you were casted in Hairspray sophomore year, he got his older friend to get it for him. It was cheap and lasted a while, so it was his number one choice. After high school graduation he brought it to your house after your grad party. And when you moved into the apartment, you had Dominos and boxed wine. It had a special place in your heart.

You put some wine in your cup and clinked your glass with his. Maybe it was finally time.

“Now let’s get wine drunk at 2 in the afternoon, shall we?” He smirked at you and you couldn’t help but laugh, knowing damn well he was a lightweight. It was gonna be a long day. Michael got up and connected his phone to the Bluetooth speaker, playing one of his playlists and taking your free hand in his.

“Michael what the hell are you doing?”

“Dancing! Duh!” He downed his wine glass and spun you around, laughing loudly.

You shook your head, putting down your glass and joining him, despite your lack of dance ability.

“You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only… how old are we again? Who knows!” Michael was so carefree, and seeing him have no care in the world always warmed your heart.

“Hey Michael?”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“I knew I moved to New York with the right person.

—

You and Michael woke up extremely early the next morning for callbacks. The callback went well in your opinion, and Michael seemed to feel good about his as well. But after your callback it was back to the minimum wage job with less than mediocre tips. You had to wait a whole week until you’d find out if the callback resulted in you getting a role. It was gonna be the longest week of your life. As everyday passed and you made countless lattes and iced coffees all you thought of was your callback. It invaded your mind at every second of the day. No callback had stressed you out as much as this one. This one wasn’t some high school production from back home. This could be your big break for crying out loud! This was the most stress you had ever felt in your life.

When the day finally came around you and Michael waited around the apartment with phone in hand all day. The phone call you two were about to get would decide your futures. You paced around the living room, unable to stand still. Finally, Michael’s phone was the first to ring. He immediately picked up, sitting on the couch while biting his nails nervously.

“Hello? Yes this is him… yes I would. Thanks so much… alright goodbye.” He hung up, a solemn look on his face. You felt like you already knew what he was gonna say.

He then broke out into a grin, hugging you, “You’re looking at broadways new Jason Dean!”

You smacked his chest, gasping, “how dare you worry me like that, Michael!” You laughed, returning his hug happily. Shortly after, your phone also rang.

You answered, with a shaky voice, “Hello? Yes this is she… okay, yes I would, okay… thank you, goodbye.”

You were shocked. You looked at Michael, eyes dilated and full of disbelief, “I got the part… I-I’m Veronica…”

“No way! I get to lead with my best friend? This is amazing! We did it!” He hugged you, lifting you off of the ground.

You felt larger than life. You finally got to live out your dream. You were absolutely thrilled.

—

The first rehearsal was mainly just line running and song singing without much blocking and a brief dance rehearsal. Broadway was quite a shell shock. Rehearsals were triple the length of high school rehearsals, and dances were taught by actual choreographers, not the schools dance team coach. It was extremely different. It worried you- what if you couldn’t handle it? As you read lines your mind was in a whirlwind, and Michael could tell.

The director told everyone to take a 15 minute break, and you immediately broke down into a rant of how stressed you were to Michael.

“What if I’m not good enough for this? I’ve gotten so many notes from the director on things to do differently and it’s only day 1! I just wanna be the best I can be, I’m not usually cast into this type of role! I’m never usually a cocky or sassy type of character, I’m not good enough for this-“

Michael interrupted you during your extremely long rant, “Y/N! You’re doing great, it’s literally the first day. Everyone’s getting a lot of notes. You are fine. You always get in your head in the first week of rehearsals. You’re so talented and you deserve this, just calm down. Come on, smell the flowers, blow out the candles. Smell the flowers, blow out the candles. You’ve got this! I wouldn’t wanna plot revenge with anybody else, Veronica.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. He always knew what to say in these situations.

“You’re not the only one getting notes ya know? You always panic, it worries me.” You frowned, you never meant to worry him. It was just the way you were. You were always hypercritical of yourself, and it got worse as you got older. It wasn’t all your fault though.

“You know why, Michael. My parents never came to any of the shows… I fought to please them, thinking maybe they’d come one of the nights of the show. They never did. They ruined my self esteem.” At that point you were just venting, and you felt bad after the realization. You quickly stopped talking, walking back on stage keeping your eyes glued to the floor.

The director loudly interrupted your thoughts with a loud clap, “Okay everyone, we’re gonna do the number for Meant To Be Yours, so get on up here, Michael.”

Michael quickly got up on the stage, flipping through his script to the right page. You had a few lines before he started singing, so you took your place behind the “closet door”.

Michael cleared his throat, putting on his angsty evil teen voice, “Knock! Knock! Sorry for coming in through the window. Dreadful etiquette, I know!” This part seemed to be written just for him. He was so good at being the odd guy.

You got out of your thoughts, replying with your line to his remark through the closet door set piece, “Get out of my house!”

Michael scoffed, jiggling the door knob and continuing on with the scene, “Hiding in the closet? Come on, unlock the door! Come out and get dressed, you’re my date to the pep rally tonight!” He then began singing the song, yelling through the door at certain parts. You had to admit, it felt like he was actually your psychotic boyfriend. He really knew what he was doing.

You were interrupted by him singing/yelling the next part of the song, “Veronica! Open the—open the door, please Veronica, open the door…” he finished the song, letting out an exasperated breath.

“So, um, any notes? To make it better…”

The director had a look of shock on her face, but good shock though. She looked at her notepad, and then looked up, “This is an amazing start, you’re making great character decisions. I think when you sing through the door you could act more desperate for her to come out, maybe beat on the door, not just yell through it. Maybe we could give you a prop? Like a gun? We’ll see. Other than that, it’s really great. Good job.”

Michael nodded, thanking her and walking down the stairs of the stage.

“Alright, y/n! We’re gonna do the opening scene, the dear diary one. Do what you think is right and I’ll give notes, as per usual. Alright?”

You nodded, sitting at the plastic table that would soon be a lunch table once the actual set was set up.

You mimed a notebook in front of you, taking a deep breath, “September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary:

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?” This then transitioned to you singing Beautiful. You only got through half of the song due to how much blocking was needed for this number in particular.

The director read off of her notes, “Alright, Y/N, so all I really have is that I want you to be more confident. I gave you this part for a reason, I believe in you. Just breathe, okay?”

You nodded, thanking her and walking off stage. You grabbed your bag and left to the subway with Michael.

“I told you you were doing good! You just need to believe in yourself, ya dingus.” He ruffled your hair and you blushed, nodding slowly.

“Michael, I think you’re the most talented person I know.”

“Well then you obviously haven’t met yourself.”

—

After what felt like a billion rehearsals, which was really just 2 months of rehearsals, costume day finally came! The best and worst day. A lot of things can go wrong. But a lot of the time, costume day is great.

You had one costume for the whole show, which you were secretly grateful for. Quick changes just stressed you out. Your costume was a grey pleated skirt that hit your mid thigh, blue knee high socks, a white blouse, and a blue blazer to go over the blouse. The director wanted everyone to be used to performing in their costumes, so you’d be rehearsing with them for the next 2 weeks until opening night.

Michael wore all black attire. His costume included a black t shirt, a black trench coat, black jeans, and clunky black boots. In all honesty, he did not look approachable. But at the same time, he intrigued you even more. With each rehearsal, you were thinking about Michael a lot more than usual, and in a different way than usual.

Were you attracted to your best friend?

Oh god. This could not be happening.

You knew way too much about him. His mother practically adopted you as her own. It would be so awkward if your feelings shined through. Your mind was racing, everything made sense.

When he would cup your cheek in one of your scenes and would immediately blush, when he would call you nicknames in your scenes and you broke into a huge grin, it was because you liked him as more than a friend.

“Y/N! How do ya like my costume?” Michael did a twirl and bowed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow what a handsome teen psychopath you are, Michael.” He laughed, muttering a thank you.

“Um, you look nice in yours. Much less psycho looking, 10 out of 10.”

You laughed, twirling to show him the whole costume, “Why thank you, JD. How kind of you.”

He smiled at you, looking in your eyes for a little while.

He quickly got out of his trance, looking around awkwardly, “Um, well, let’s take our promotional photos then shall we?”

You nodded, following him to where the photographer was.

“We’re definitely getting drunk tonight, I need a breather.”

—

You and Michael were in the living room, playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo Switch whole drinking, you guessed it, boxed wine. You were both extremely drunk, laughing at every little thing.

“Did you seriously just hit me with a blue shell!?”

Michael laughed, “Sorry! I can't accept losing to you, princess.” His voice had a tinge of sarcasm, which was far from surprising.

You pouted, desperately trying to get your number one spot back. But to your defeat, Michael took your spot at the last minute and got first place.

“How dare you!”

He laughed as you tackled him on the couch, resulting in a slight spill of both of your glasses as the coffee table shook.

“Sorry babe, I won fair and square.” His tone had a slight bit of flirtiness to it. Blushing at the nickname, you got up and got yourself more to drink.

“Alright, I lost, what do you want your prize to be? I buy your lunch tomorrow? It’s done.”

“I don’t need anything… let’s just chill now, yeah?”

You nodded, sitting beside him on the couch and laying your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N, you know I wouldn’t wanna be anyone else’s costar, right?”

“Michael, you tell me that everyday.”

“Well, it’s true. God, I’m tired of pretending,” he sat up, looking you straight in the eyes, “I came with you to New York not just to pursue acting. I came here because I care about you more than anything. You make everyday a little better. I was in such a bad place before we met freshman year. I literally love you so much.”

“Yeah I love you too-“

“No Y/N! I’m in love with you! When we do our scenes together I can’t help but think about us being together! I can’t help but imagine me affectionately cupping your cheek and kissing you outside of the show. I can’t help that I actually think I’m meant to be yours! And no, this is not the alcohol talking. I’ve always felt this way. I felt this way when we were in every other show together! I want to shout from the rooftops that I love you!” He gripped your waist and kissed you deeply, pulling you onto his waist.

His kiss was intoxicating. You didn’t know how bad you wanted this. You finally realized that he was who you wanted all along.

“You may be set out to kill the whole school so we can be together, but I love you too, Michael.”

—

Opening night you were warming up in your dressing room when a knock came at your door. The stage manager gave you your 20 minute warning, while also handing you a large arrangement of roses.

“Who are these from? No one I know is coming to see me tonight…” You looked at the notecard that came with it, and it all made sense.

My dearest Veronica,

I’m glad I get to share the stage with raw talent tonight. And you I guess (Just kidding). Break a leg, and let’s fake some deaths tonight! I love you.

- JD

You never felt more in love.

—

Taglist!!

@i-calumhood @angelbabylu