#not because of any particular reason just because i think his father is french

[shootingsun]

Shinigami eyes canonically can't be seen by other people so my headcanon is that the eyes look red to the user and only the user

So, now that this has been established, I present to you, 10 year old Beyond Birthday in French class;

"J'ai les yeux rouges,"

"Backup, tes yeux sont verts, tu dis 'mes yeux sont verts'."

"Tu ne penses pas que je sais à quoi ressemblent mes propres yeux?"

[mosylufanfic]

Linen and Kisses

For Fluffbruary! The prompts for today were table | blush | laundry. Thanks to @toooldforthisbutstill for sharing the snippet of a marriage contract that inspired this.

Linen and Kisses

The music had switched from Wagner to Nine Inch Nails, so Cassian knew his girlfriend was taking a break for at least a few songs. She couldn't listen to anything with words when she was working, she said because languages got tangled up in her head, so she had massive playlists of classical and instrumental music to blast as she was head-down in some manuscript or other. 

He went out to the kitchen and found her filling the kettle. The ravages of her morning's work spilled out over the table, multiple dictionaries and her battered old computer and printouts with penciled notes and highlighted words. 

"What language today?" he asked.

"Japanese," she said. 

Before meeting her, Cassian had considered himself reasonably multilingual. Spanish, English, and about halfway to fluent in French. It was two-and-a-half times more languages than most people spoke in this country. 

But Jyn was fluent in all those and more. She worked as a freelance translator, and since moving in together, he'd gotten used to having half the bookcase filled with dictionaries and having to guess which language she was using to talk on the phone and why. 

French, Japanese, Arabic, Russian? Some connection of hers on another continent.

Spanish, with a lot of laughing? Probably his sister. 

Danish? Her father, and there would be cursing afterwards.

"Are you done?" he asked. "Or just taking a break?"

"Done for now."

"Good, I was going to start lunch. Any requests?"

"Edible," she said, starting to clear up her mess. "Thanks." She hooked her arm around his waist and leaned up to kiss his cheek. She got taciturn when fighting with a particular translation - well, more taciturn. 

By the time she'd cleaned the table off, he'd gotten some of his homemade tomato soup in the microwave and assembled a couple of cheese sandwiches for grilling. She leaned against the counter as he cooked. 

He rarely liked having someone in his kitchen, but Jyn was the exception. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, breaking a corner off the cheese block and tossing it in her mouth.

"Nothing," he answered, a hair too fast. "Why do you ask?"

She eyed him. "I dunno, you just seem a little tense."

"Because you're eating all the good cheese."

"Oh no," she said, cutting off another corner. "Whatever will happen if we run out of cheese? We might have to go down to the store. How awful."

He waggled his spatula at her. "That's the good stuff. You don't get that at a fucking Walmart."

"Snob," she said, and took another corner. "And anyway, we don't get anything at fucking Walmart because you're banned for talking to the cashiers about unionizing."

"Only because I wouldn't let you vandalize the store manager's car."

"Is slashing tires really vandalism?"

"I think you'll find, yes."

She shrugged. "They never would have caught me."

The microwave beeped, and she pulled out the bowls, just in time for him to plate the sandwiches. With the addition of cutlery and tea in heavy mugs, lunch was served. 

He wasn't fool enough to think she'd been distracted or deceived, and if he had been, the canny look she shot him would have disabused him of that notion. The woman knew him far too well. 

"So," she said. "What've you been up to this morning?" She dipped the corner of her sandwich in the soup. 

It was as good an opening as he could have hoped for.

"Messing around online," he said, digging in his back pocket. "Actually, I found something and did some practice translating, but I'm not too sure if I got it right."

"French? Your French is coming along."

"It's not as good as yours," he said, and she nodded in agreement. "Can you read it over for me? This is the original here. Something from a marriage contract in the middle ages."

 She narrowed her eyes at him. "You trying to get me to work for free?"

"Good point. What's your price?"

She leaned across the table and kissed him firmly on the lips. "There." She took the paper from his hand and unfolded it. "Mmm. Hmm. Awwwww."

"There's a part I didn't quite get," he said. "About the laundry?"

"Linen," she murmured. She'd majored in European history, and it still emerged from time to time. "Underthings. What you wore next to your skin underneath all the - " She flapped a hand. "Velvet and brocade, if you were rich, or wool if you were poor."

"Ye Olde Fruit of the Looms," he said.

"Mmm. But it was still expensive because everything was spun and dyed and woven and sewn by hand. Cheap clothing is a really modern concept." She looked at the contract again. "This is a legally binding promise that she'll have the things she needs, always."

"Practical," he said. 

"And kisses," she added. "It's a really sweet turn of phrase. Linen and kisses." She smiled over it for a moment, then looked up. "What was your translation?"

He dug in his pocket and passed it over. He tried to eat a little soup as she read it through, comparing it with the original, but had to put the spoon back in the bowl and hold his mug tightly.

She read it aloud. “I swear to protect you from poverty, to cover your back with linen and kisses, to watch over your sleep and bring you all the delights of this world as long as I walk it with you.”

Her eyes paused on the last line, spaced a little below the rest of his translation. She lifted her eyes. "This wasn't in the original."

He knew what it said without her having to read it aloud. "No," he said. "But it fits."

She looked at it again.

Jyn, will you marry me?

"I know we've only talked about it a few times," he said. "And I don't have a ring or anything. I thought you'd probably want to pick something out yourself. But I - " He gestured. "I read that. And it felt like a sign."

He didn't normally go in for signs. Neither did she. But reading that had felt like - oh, this. This is what I want. And she's who I want it with. 

She set the translation on the table and he looked at it, wondering if he'd been too hasty. If she was about to let him down gently, or not very gently, or - 

She got up, came around the table, and settled herself in his lap. His arms came around her instinctively, pulling her close.

"Oui," she said, smoothing her thumbs along the edge of his beard. "Need that translated?"

He let out all his breath in a rush and rested his forehead on hers. "Listillo," he muttered, and she laughed until his mouth covered hers. 

The soup and the sandwiches were stone cold by the time they got back to eating them, but he found he didn't mind. She smiled at him over her soup, clearly not minding it either. 

"So you'll cover my back with linen, will you," she said. 

"And kisses," he said, stretching over the table to press one to her lips. "Don't forget the kisses."

FINIS

[sizzleissues]

We finish each other’s (2015 words)

Speak my language AU ala @nervousbelieverstarfish again

(warnings for tired possible spelling errors that mysteriously crop up only after I post it)

AO3 or below

Marinette waited at the step of the school, her face splitting into a smile as he walked towards her. 

“Did you check out the trailer I sent you?” She asked from the outset, hardly waiting until he was a metre before her to continue their text conversation as though it had never ended. 

“I did. I can’t believe they’re already making another Majestia movie. It's been like a year since the last one came out.”

“Six months actually.”

“No way. It can’t be any good if it’s only been six months.”

“So are you going to watch it?”

“Duh. Do you want to get tickets?”

They climbed the steps into school and navigated the halls, keeping up their private conversation in Mandarin. It used to garner them some weird looks but by now their peers had learned to back off. They’d reserved mornings for improving his speed in Mandarin and afternoons for working on Marinette’s French. Through this little system, both made progress at record speed. They split apart to go to their lockers, joining back up outside their classroom. 

“They’re probably going to make a movie about Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Adrien said. 

“That would be strange.” It came out more like a thought.

“Why?”

“Err- Because they’re like our protectors and stuff. They aren’t movie characters.”

Adrien pressed his thumb to his ring on his hand. Definitely not a movie character. 

“Who would even play them?” Marinette continued.

“Well I’d be Chat Noir and you’d be Ladybug.”

“Me? Ladybug? What makes you think that??” 

“No reason. I think you just suit the role.”

Marinette stayed silent, the panic slipping from her features like it had never been there. Instead she smirked.

 “I think I’d be better as Chat Noir, you look better in red polka dots.”

They moved in the classroom, the conversation shifting. 

“There was this girl at my locker.” Marinette said, sitting into her seat beside him. It wasn’t in every class they sat beside each other but they usually tried to be as close as possible. “She kept whispering something. I don’t know what.”

“That’s weird. Was she being mean?”

“I don’t think so. Her face was kind. I think she was probably on her phone.”

“Still, tell me if anyone ever bothers you.” 

“You already did enough with Chloé-.”

There was a slam at the top of the classroom, interrupting her. He whipped his head around — yelping as he did— his face aghast until he saw it was just Ms Mendeleev getting the class's attention. Adrien sank low in his seat, his cheeks pricking with heat as Marinette giggled at his expense. It was like the sound of something bigger echoed through the book dropping. A door and a scowl blending into a mundane act.

“Are you okay?” She asked with a smile still bunching her cheeks. He tried to join in on her laughter but it was hollow and she knew it immediately. Their proximity over the last few months had her learning all his tells, searching for them in the creases where the facade cracked. Her smile faded and her hand met his under the table. 

There wasn’t any meaning behind it, she hadn’t thought it through enough to think about it. That touch would chase him into the darker patches of the night when two faces kept blending together, red fading to pink and then intermingling until he was left utterly confused. She clutched a little tighter and leaned a little closer.

“No. But not now,” he whispered. 

She let go, understanding, and turned to the lesson with interest. 

When she slid her sketchbook his way that lunch, he knew — just like she’d known — what she meant. He paged through it, careful not to damage any of the drawings. They were beautiful. It was unlike anything his father had ever created and made Adrien wonder how he could even dare to call his trite ‘fashion’. He noticed a particular fascination with the man of midnight cropping up in her later work, replacing the golden boy that populated the early pages. He could have easily been dark, an inkly blotch of contempt (his first appearances were exactly that) but instead she designed him playful and curious in long cloaks and pointed boots, dancing across the page. In a neat script she penned Chat Noir under the final drawing.

Her eyes pressed intently on his as he finished. Do you like it?

“I love it.” He meant so much more.

Her face broke into a visage of the sun, accepting back her sketchbook and with less gentle hands shoved it back into her bag. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t. It’s different from my usual.”

“How could I not?”

“I don’t know. I guess since your father is the Gabriel Agreste, you’d have an eye for what’s good and bad.”

“I do have an eye for it and I’m telling you your work is amazing and this series takes it to a whole other level.”

Marinette bowed her head and went about eating her lunch. Their quiet little corner remained theirs. 

-

Adrien made it through half of Marinette’s tutoring before an akuma interrupted it. He felt lame making an excuse to leave her but he would do a better job protecting her as Chat Noir then as Adrien. 

He found somewhere to hide and ignored Plagg’s exhausted mumblings as they faced their fourth akuma of the week. It was Wednesday.  

Adrien wasn’t sure his life could be peaceful anymore. That was the responsibility of the ring on his finger. It tied him to something greater, what his existence must have been molded for. Being Chat Noir was like finally stretching out his limbs after a long time being boxed in a car ride fifteen years long. It had been so long he’d forgotten his arms could reach the moon if he stretched them and his legs could carry him across oceans if he dared to step. Chat Noir did those things and more. 

It wasn’t easy, that said, nothing was. But Ladybug made it look so. They were partners, completely in tune. If he believed she would be at his side, nothing could go wrong. 

They landed simultaneously at the scene, staring up at the akuma floating in the air.

“Let’s make this one quick,” she said. 

“Stronger?”

“Together.”

-

He rubbed the ring with his thumb, spinning it around as he feigned interest in the lesson droning on around him. In the desk below his, Marinette fretted with her notes, switching between French and Mandarin seemingly at random. She’d sat in the seat below him today, even though the one next to him was free. He tried not to think about that. His eyes fell on her hand as she scribbled, mesmerized as she produced a design doodle in the middle of her writing. Little drawings like it peppered the page, her seeing no problem in quickly sketching a design idea when it came to her. Even when it interrupted history notes.

She’d improved her French, picking it up quicker than he’d expected. Listening to it as a kid from her father had more of an effect then she’d thought and her listening skills could keep up with most teachers if she stayed focused. He wished he could say it was his excellent tutoring but the truth was Marinette was extraordinary. Nothing could stop her.

“That’s it for today. I don’t want to bore you with my voice. Pack up and leave when the bell goes,” the teacher said. He laughed like he hadn’t bored them already. (Though the class was bored because they hated history and Adrien was bored because he’d already covered this during his time away.)

“Marientte? We're finished,” he whispered down. Marinette twisted around, smiling gratefully.

“Oh, okay. I just need to finish this.”” She jotted down a few final characters and packed up.

To her left, another girl leaned in, her trepidation visible. Adrien knew her as the girl Nino was hanging with now, Alya, that was her name. Alya slowly with a unsure voice whispered something. 

“Pardon?” Marinette said. Alya paused, drawing in her lips before she spoke again, loud enough for Adrien to eavesdrop. 

“How-are-you?” Alya asked in broken Mandarin.

From this angle it was tricky to see but Adrien watched as Marinette’s face transformed from cautious to grinning.

“I’m good! You’re Alya, right?” 

Alya nodded, speaking in French next. “I am. And you’re Marinette. But let me introduce myself again because I spent so long learning how. Hi, I’m Alya Cersaire, your friendly locker neighbour!”

“You learned Mandarin to speak to me?” Marinette asked in French, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. 

“A little bit. I took a class back home but I’m still very bad. You probably noticed my attempt yesterday.” She gestured with her hand to the aforementioned ‘yesterday’, cringing at it.

“Don’t worry about it, you sounded good now. Where is home?”

“America. I moved here nine months ago.”

“That’s nearly as far as China. Did you have to learn French?”

“I did. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, I thought we could relate.”

The bell rang, interrupting their conversation. Good. Marinette grabbed her bag and waited at the step for Adrien to join her. He moved to her side before she could change her mind and leave with Alya. They walked side by side to the next class like always, except this time Marinette stopped to say goodbye to Alya. Adrien gave a small smile and tried to brush off the ugly folding in his stomach as Marinette filled his stoney silence with random thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, interrupting herself. 

Adrien swallowed something thick in his throat. He’d known Marinette improving at her French meant she’d start to branch out. That was what he’d promised he’d help her do on that first day four months ago. It was wrong to hold her back now, just because of his silly feelings. She wouldn’t need him anymore soon and he could get back to his solitude. 

“Yes-.” 

The school shaking interrupted him.

He brought his ringed hand forward, using his other to hold back Marinette as they listened to where the shaking came from. 

“Should we-?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, you should hide.” He turned to her, praying she’d listen and run away so he could transform. Her jaw was set when she nodded, dashing down the corridor in the opposite direction to the noise. He watched until he was sure she had hid safely and then found somewhere secrete to call on Plagg.

Moments later he landed beside Ladybug on a rooftop not too far from the school. He glanced back at it, to confirm it hadn’t been destroyed since he’d last checked and once he was sure it hadn’t disappeared he found where Ladybug was looking. Her gaze was already locked on the akuma in the distance, a plan forming between her brows. He opened his mouth to ask what weighed between them but Ladybug beat him to it.

“You’re upset.”

“Huh?”

“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. So you must be upset. Why?”

Adrien frowned slightly before painting a smile onto his face. “I’m alright. Is that what you were thinking about?”

She must see the underpaint of his facade because she nodded and then pointed at the akuma. “Stronger together, remember? If one team member is down things won’t work.”

“I know and I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe you because the akuma has just climbed on top of the Eiffel Tower with a hostage but we’re talking about this after.” Her voice was kind in the stern way Ladybug’s voice often was. It took on that leadership quality she denied was there because it suggested Adrien wasn’t equal to her. They were partners, not leader and follower. Their powers worked in tandem, their bodies designed to start where the other finished. According to observers, sometimes with all the action it was easy to believe it was one hero, not two, that saved them. 

She casted her yo-yo out, zipping away. Adrien followed.

-

HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!! Hope you got it and I successfully conveyed the narrative themes of this and the further exploration of Adrien’s silly little psyche. Let me know.

(I will explain if its not clear)

This is missing a Ladynoir one shot that’s supposed to come before it but I wrote this first and tumblr voted for me to post it so I do as the people say. So just superimpose a relationship like the movie’s Ladynoir onto this

Also im very much avoiding addressing akuma’s because I don’t know whether I can them to be like the show’s or the movie’s, I don’t understand the movie’s but I have been so far sticking to its canon.

This is also probably the latest chronologically thing you’ll get and everything else will be dumb silly adrienette time with some silly dumb Ladynoir time as well.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

can u make one about maybe telling bam you’re pregnant??😭🙏

Y/N Tells Bam She’s Pregnant HCs!

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

Warnings: None!

An: Thank you for the request!! I’ve noticed a trend recently with a lot of baby related requests XD Bam has a tendency to get carried away with whatever he gets into, so I don’t think raising a child would be any different!

Bam doesn’t know what to say

I mean, what man does when his girlfriend tell him she’s pregnant?

“Wow. Wow. I mean…wow.”

He stumbles over his words for like a solid minute in disbelief before asking if you’re really sure it’s his

When you tell him that yes, not only is it his but you also want to keep it, the only thing he can can come up with is,

“A-awesome…?”

The thing is, despite his usual antics, Bam can be a pretty sentimental guy, especially when it comes to you, so even though you thought it was sorted and done, he was still processing it

Until that evening you caught him playing some skateboarding video game in the living room after all his buddies went home

He doesn’t notice you standing behind the corner, so it’s totally genuine when he passes the game and sits back with this sorta bewildered smile on his face.

And he murmurs to nobody in particular, “I’m gonna be a dad.”

The following months were filled with Bam tending to your every need

Sure, you liked it when he made sure the castle was stocked with your favorite foods or massaged your feet, but it was a little excessive

You waited until week three of breakfast in bed to say anything. Digging your fork into the fluffy French toast your boyfriend told you he made but you could obviously tell it was April’s cooking, you laughed, “You know, you could really ease up on it. I’m pregnant, not dying!”

Still, he wasn’t discouraged

One day, Bam surprised you with a custom baby inside he got made- black with a hot pink heartagram on it

He held it up proudly, “He’s gonna look so awesome in this!”

When you asked how he knew it would be a boy, he said it was just father’s intuition

“Plus, if it’s a girl, it’s got pink on it!” Well he had a point.

Don’t even get me started on names

You know he would suggest Ville, and there’s no way in hell you would benaming your baby after some Finnish rock star your boyfriend was obsessed with

And when you go shopping for baby stuff Bam insists on trying everything out

Even if they don’t offer samples of baby food, he will be asking for them because,

“Our kid deserves the best, Y/N! If I wouldn’t eat it, he’s not gonna eat it either.”

Evidently, he didn’t like anything he tried expect those puffed rice snacks so he bought as many as he could fit in his arms (and he will 100% eat them all before the baby is actually born)

The soon to arrive baby was giving Bam a bit of a crisis of conscious

You assumed the whole wearing a tie with his usual blazer and t-shirt combination was some Avril Lagvine fashion thing

And you didn’t mind him spending fewer nights out at the bar with his buddies and the decrease in trips to the ER

But when he brings up selling the lambo for a ‘more reasonable car’, you put your hands on his shoulders and took a deep breath

“Bam, I love you, but there is no way in hell I’m letting you sell that car.”

That’s when your boyfriend admits to you that he has no idea what he’s doing

You could tell

[pilferingapples]

Grantaire and the unbearable cringe of caring about anything ever

For no particular reason, I want to talk about these lines in Grantaire’s intro right now!

He sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the brother, Robespierre junior as well as Loizerolles. "They are greatly in advance to be dead," he exclaimed. He said of the crucifix: "There is a gibbet which has been a success." (3.4.1, Hapgood translation)

Il raillait tous les dévouements dans tous les partis, aussi bien le frère que le père, aussi bien Robespierre jeune que Loizerolles.—Ils sont bien avancés d'être morts, s'écriait-il. Il disait du crucifix: Voilà une potence qui a réussi. (original French)

Because they are in many ways SO at odds with...everything else about him! And I think puts him in a closer parallel arc with Enjolras!

Breaking the lines apart just a little: 

He sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the brother, Robespierre junior as well as Loizerolles. "They are greatly in advance to be dead,"

Robespierre “ junior” --that is, the younger-- was Robespierre’s brother, who was executed along with him. Loizerolles here is Jean Simon Loizerolles , who volunteered for execution in place of his son. Also both were executions taking place during the Revolution,on opposite political ends, more or less. It’s not surprising that  Grantaire would mock the idea of dying for any sort of politics at this point--of course he would, that’s his thing. 

But the big point of the text here is that these people didn’t die for politics, but for devotion to a loved one--a brother, a father.  

And Grantaire is absolutely ragging on it! He is mocking the very idea of devotion to another person!  This is the cynic’s version of  “ the bare throat of Evadne would have moved him no more than it would have moved Aristogeiton”.  Basically:

(they are both so young and so ridiculous)

There’s a big difference though- nothing about Enjolras in his intro contradicts that disavowal of personal attachments. Every note about him is about how much he is Not Interested in the personal. If this is an error in judgement, it is one he is making with his whole idealistic self.

But the very next paragraph of Grantaire’s intro is about how he has One Fanaticism , and his whole life revolves around Enjolras, and he doesn’t have any joy in the world except being around his friends, and basically: He Could Not Be More Full of It, personal attachments are his LIFE and on at least some level he knows this! He’s just tangling himself up in stubborn, self-defeating denial! 

This also sets up more of a gradual character arc for Grantaire ! if in 3.4.1 he’s mocking the very idea of  personal devotion, by Enjolras and his Lieutenants (5.1.6) he’s openly swearing his devotion to Enjolras.  He still can’t help mocking the cause itself some, and distancing himself from that--which is where he and Enjolras are still zooming right past each other. But he’s losing some of the ironic distance from his own deepest feelings, and I think that’s part of why he’s able to even try to act for the republic here. 

I think this parallels Enjolras’  character arc here too-- if he’s all about the abstract ideal in 3.4.1, by 5.1.6 he’s thinking of that ideal in terms of his friends-- the revolution is now made up their spirits for him, the republic something that will be worthy of their efforts. 

By the time the barricade is built, Grantaire will be ready to directly state his personal kind of devotion even more clearly, and make a more direct move of acting on them--even if that action is just to Be There and Not Leave at first.   And Enjolras, in parallel , will be willing to cede a practical advantage-- a spy’s info-- for the chance to save  a friend. 

OFPD is something of a leap of faith for both of them, really-- but I think they’ve been moving closer through the story, just enough that in that final moment they can finally reach each other. 

The other thing, of course, is THIS line:

He said of the crucifix: "There is a gibbet which has been a success."

Which is just straight up mocking Jesus Christ/Christianity--but, also, crucially, acknowledging that that story of sacrifice has become a big deal. 

And this is something I think Grantaire struggles with through all his appearances in the novel. He hates the idea of sacrifice-- but he doesn’t deny that it can work for a movement, even when he’s doing his best to dismiss it. There’s a lot to be said about Christianity , but it can’t really be denied that it caught on and got popular! 

And...I think I will have to think about what that all conveys here! But putting a pin in it for sure. 

[harlstark]

What are some of your harley family headcanons? (His mum, sister, dad??)

oh my god okay okay this is such a loaded question and would probably take me forever to answer in full so i will try to keep this as abridged as possible

mother:

-i usually use the common name in fics for her “Macy” but to me her maiden name is Merriweather for no reason in particular

-i think she works as a waitress/bartender which is alluded to canon but yknow

-i imagine her blonde haired as straw, a young mother but her smile lines show

-loving but definitely distant. she tries, but being a single, low income mother to two, who struggles with undiagnosed mental health issues of her own and mild alcoholism has made her rather uninvolved. while i believe she’s unconditional in her love, she’s not very present in showing it. harley was raised mostly on his own because of this

-she’s not the biggest fan of tony stark, and certainly doesn’t get star struck, but she doesn’t hate the man

father:

-deadbeat asshole who was 100% an alcoholic/addict

-i don’t have a name preference for him, it kind of changes if i mention him by name in a fic. but i never call him james and never will

-probably fucked off to nevada or something

-definitely gave harley a rough time for being different than the other kids

sister

-i use the name abbie/abby from peachy, but also sometimes abigail kennedy “AK”. once or twice mentally ive used the name piper too but usual just stick to abbie

-i think she cut her own bangs when she was in middle school and fucked up so harley tried to help her by watching youtube video tutorials and ever since he has just been the one that cuts her bangs for her in their cramped bathroom

-she’s got lots of freckles and a little gap between her two front teeth

-had a bit of a rebellious phase in high school and liked to casually flirt with boys and girls, following in her brothers footsteps a bit by becoming the latest gossip topic. this was her form of grieving once harley moved away to NY. she had a genuine summer-time romance with a traveling hippie family’s daughter one year, and mellowed out after that. eventually i think she decided to go to community college but hated it and dropped out, then took a gap year just traveling. eventually she ended up in new york too, either doing something in the arts, or continuing her education and working at SI in design. she meets a muslim woman, and eventually they get married, and have two kids through IVF. they take frequent trips to rose hill and eventually move back to tennessee in a kinder rural town, and they have their own garden and chickens

-she once took in a stray tabby cat

-she knows harley‘s gay before he tells anyone. even if she didn’t know the word to it, she just knew the concept of harley with a girlfriend just didn’t make sense

-she likes y’allternative music

-has a tendency to lay on sun spots on the carpet

-master at checkers, domino train, and any card game in the books

-collected my little pony dolls as a kid

-smoked cigarettes for a couple years before stopping

-prefers red wine over white

-very into denims, plaids, florals, and country bumpkin mud-stained clothes as a kid, darker alternative y2k inspired clothes as a teen, and modern french/classy vintage style clothing as an adult

-grew up running wild, barefoot, and free. her favorite place to hang out in rosehill is a old drive inn theatre, which is where she met that girl one summer

[hopefullyandrogynousartist]

Ooh hit me with that oc universe and oc character lore!!

OH I WOULD LOVE TO

I have two oc universes, one where I know the environment and the religion, but not the characters, and the other one is the opposite. No, they cannot be combined. Different vibes, however similar they may be.

(to everyone that doesn't want to read this it's no problem just look at that nice little break there)

So my universe where I have only really figured out the characters has a bunch of characters. I have written down 25 1/2 characters. the 1/2 is because one character is pregnant, and three of the characters are chickens. there are four families, a few couples, and a few miscellaneous characters. another fairly important thing to know is i started building in a Minecraft superflat world, and the people's personalities all come from the builds. I built most stuff first, then came up with the characters. it's useful to know what their space looks like.

the first two characters I came up with are Bob Smushbottom and Nora Goodstock. Bob is a doctor for the town, and he has a dog. He's about 60. Nora is in her mid forties, and has a partner named Lisa. Nora owns an apothecary, and has almost completely gray hair, and it's probably dyed that way, but no one really knows. spoiler, it is absolutely dyed gray, and she looks good in it. The two "most important" (the ones that I would most likely write a webcomic or book about) are Benji and Maria. Maria lives on a farm just outside the town, and Benji is an apprentice for his father's butcher shop. They are 19 and 20, and it is absolutely a love story + getting out of an abusive situation.

the second OC universe is a lot. The first thing I ever came up with was a huge fantasy library. the second thing was the religion. there are seven deities, and everyone has a specific god that looks over them. to tell who looks over you, there will be a specific mark like a rune on the back of your dominant hand. it kinda looks like if your hand was blushing or if you were lightly pinched in a certain pattern.

there's lucky numbers, some magic, and quite a bit of superstition. they have a separation of church and state, and politicians are always in multiples of five. this is set on an island about half the size of Australia. their main exports are clothes and jewelry, and books. I have just now decided to switch a few names around and call the island Lykar.

librarians are extremely important in this culture because they hold the knowledge to almost everything. the library itself is in a separate dimension, which is accessible by 49 different doors on the island, usually connected to what looks like a tree root. the reason for the different dimension is because early on in their mythology, the god of balance wasn't doing their job very well and accidentally created a rip to another dimension. here is my horrible job of showing who is the head god. the gods below them don't have any particular rank except under the goddess of life. also I thought their pronouns were important as about half use they/them and this isn't a male-dominated society, this is a librarian-and-knowledge-dominated society.

I think I haven't already mentioned that clothing and hair pieces are very important in this society. so I will get into it! it's my fav part. they live in a very warm place, so they tend to wear very lightweight clothes and light colors so the fabric won't retain heat as much. braids, French braids, and fishtail braids are very common, along with headbands of some kind holding it together. something else they wear is capelets to keep the sun off their chest, shoulders, and part of their neck and arms. tunics/dresses/anything loose like those things are worn across all genders as a base. pants and a shirt are normal enough to see, but they're not the thing most people would reach for.

there is so much more I could say, but the lore of the second universe is very extensive while the characters of the first one aren't quite as extensive but there 22 characters all of whom I know what exactly has happened to them.

[balladofthewhitehorse]

14, 19, 28, and 46 for whomever you'd like!

Thank you for your ask! I appreciate it, I’ll answer these with England (and others, depending on my muse which is- fickle. Love how my brain can spend an hour and a half researching a singular event in Irish history, but not even lift a neuron to glance at my still unfinished fics).

Were they involved at school? Sports? Clubs? Debate? Were they unconnected?

This is a kind of hard one to answer given the lack of a curriculum or even any formal schooling outside of the clergy in the Anglo-Saxon era (the era I consider England to be spawned into like some shrub come to life); He would’ve mostly learned hands on from his father and his brother, learning how to defend himself and speak latin (Wessex would’ve most likely taught how to write in runic, with England learning how to write latin later on during Alfred the Great’s reign, who’s known for promoting education during the Saxon times and proposing for primary education to be conducted in English - making it more accessible to the those that weren’t just clergy or nobility, most likely).

The same would go for Scotland and Wales (in their own respective languages too, with Wales obviously learning Cymraeg while Scotland learned Gaelic and later on Scots as the language developed); All three of them are more familiar with learning skills as they go, far better with their hands than anything else. England even had a short while with Normandy learning French (and of all things, embroidery, mostly from sitting with France who acted as a bit of an impromptu babysitter whenever Normandy was away or too busy to focus on this new territory he’d gained).

The idea of sitting at a desk, listening to the teacher tell you things is a bit of a Victorian thing.

That. Is exactly what Northern Ireland is very familiar with: The poor mite was often a bit of an odd-one-out, initially homeschooled until Ireland decided it might be better for him to interact with people…more his age (or at least looking more his age). He did find it hard to connect, it is not uncommon for England, Scotland and Wales to forget that Northern Ireland at his core, no matter how youthful, that he is a nation. Northern Ireland had a bit of a tendency to flare up or argue with others, known to the teachers as a bit of a trouble-maker - which, of course: Scotland, Wales, England and Ireland all simultaneously gave one another the side-eye, wondering just where that came from.

The reality of it is that Northern Ireland is a deeply empathetic individual - and he’s very aware of all the little things that stop him from being allowed to simply exist. He takes part in the football club (but of course,) and the rugby club - as well as Irish hurling, mostly because it’s something he and Ireland can do together (like it or lump it, Ireland is probably the closest to understanding N. Ireland than anyone else here). Northern Ireland is prone to thinking his problems are very, very small compared to the others - it is hard to get a word in edgewise when they won’t stop talking about this or that battle (England, in particular, seems to have zero remorse about casually remarking on his father’s death occuring right in front of him).

But, nations have a way of feeling the impact of things on their land; Physical, Mental…it’s all the same to them, and Northern Ireland is a student throughout all of this…sucks, innit?

What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

England? England? England hasn’t even begun to crawl entirely from his disillusions.

The first one is the fact Wales doesn’t consider him a brother anymore. It was quite the shock when he realized, and initially England was very defensive; He was quick to push the blame onto her and spew vitriol. In recent years, it’s…better between them, but England always feels subtly disappointed that they’re not as close as they used to be - and well, all signs point to England as the main reason why, which…

Is the second disillusion. England is not a pleasant person to know; His actions have reasons, they’re guided by (twisted) morality and it’s not surprising that he’s like this. Yet, it must be said that England does not recognise himself as the villain, does not immediately connect the dots that all the things that have happened between then and now with Scotland and Wales, are entirely because of him. Spite, bitterness, loss…certainly, Scotland and Wales had their moments (Wales did ambush England in the midst of a forest and nearly decapitate him, but to be fair, England was invading her), but England was slow on the uptake to say the least and extremely arrogant, with…quite frankly alarming conceptions of what family and protection were - Normandy wasn’t exactly the grandest role model, but it’s not enough to wash England of the blood. He realizes this now, of course, and it’s a great shame - but perhaps the next disillusion is most likely…

The idea that he can never get better. It seems foreign to him that he could get better; He seems almost content to stew and it’s…tiring, frustrating trying to change when you know things are never going to go back to before. England struggles with the concept, with the satisfaction of retribution denied; Scotland and Wales are not going to retaliate, they are not going to seek revenge on him - nor is anyone else, and this deeply unsettles England who is all too familiar with the old adage of an eye for an eye, and a knife for the ribs.

As for the disillusions of the past, I will quickly two below:

The idea that Normandy cared for him as more than a vassal: England took a long time to come to terms with the fact his brotherhood was less than ideal and it was unfair of Normandy to have just left him with France, though at this point England was already winding up to fight with her, vicious and dog-toothed.

The idea that France was little more than a villain; For a long time, he tucked away any pleasant memories that had been shared between them - England had a tendency to think in shades of black and white back then, viewing France as an oppressor in its entirety. To him, she seemed to be a grown-up - but now, England views such a time as the feuding between two children; One of which was only a little older than the other.

Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice?

Hmm, I’ll answer this one for Scotland because I think it’s a tad easier with Scotland in comparison to Wales and England; He’s quite introverted for the most part, preferring peace and quiet in comparison to more social pursuits, but Scotland does have one close friend: Ireland. Obvious answer, but it just makes so much sense. While certainly they’ve had their ups and downs, with Scotland not always seeing eye to eye with Ireland (they are two individuals after-all, and there are plenty of situations where Scotland did not always do right by her - do please remember Scotland’s role in the Ulster Plantations/British Empire), but fundamentally they have each others back these days.

Scotland and Ireland have almost the same neuroses; Scotland doesn’t like insects while Ireland feels queasy about the prospect of mould, and so they tend to be very clean about their spaces around them. They’re also quite similar in humour, being very dry and quick-witted, with Ireland often affectionately teasing Scotland (‘’William Wallace wasn’t a drag queen-’’ ‘’He’s wearing a skirt and has a full face of foundation, Scotland’’ - Derry Girls, 2022). It’s not uncommon for some people to assume they’re dating, but Scotland is an AroAce icon and Ireland is just not into Scotland in that way.

I am not…really sure what the question means by ‘how did they make their choice’ mostly because it was more of a natural conclusion to them. Something that just happened naturally over time, through periods of ups and downs, finally settling into something comfortable. A good friendship, one that got them through periods of time, and perhaps the one that makes them feel the most close to human.

Is your character tall? Short? What about size? Weight? Posture? How do they feel about their physical body?

This is going to make the England-Stan Anon (pspspsps) very annoyed, but England is fat, always was to varying degrees. He did have an awkward growth spurt from chubby little rosy-cheeked infant to some sort of lanky teenager, but filled out quickly; Lanky teenagers have no place on a battlefield and England had to get used to wearing suits of armour…especially given his weapon of a choice was a fucking war-hammer, is anyone surprised to find him quite thick-set? As he grew up, he rounded out - and these days, England is more a little soft than solid due to a lifetime now mostly sedentary - and in his opinion, much more happy. Gone are aching muscles and hunger pangs, gone was the constant need to be on-guard, and now he can just enjoy the sweet treats he desires.

(Sweets back then were far, far less affordable.)

England is about 5’’9, just shy of beating Wales’ height; And yet, he still seems to tower over others, in part due to how he carries himself - constantly a brooding expression on his face, thick (one scarred and the other a prosthetic) arms crossed over his chest, big round belly only making him seem that much more formidable. Yet, one can recognise that England feels more at ease - He doesn’t walk so fast anymore, far less in a hurry, and he seems to genuinely for the first time take care of his appearance; England’s hair was a bird’s nest of greasy hair, England going in spirals and just simply hacking it off, too frustrated to do anything with it and just…generally feeling terrible about how he looked. He rarely thought about what he wore, mostly utilizing whatever fit the standards of the time - and now those expectations, those weighty standards are gone and England is much more satisfied now.

For a start, he’s not hiding his scars so much - he used to be ashamed of his missing arm, but these days, England recognises it as another part of himself; He’s more accepting of his disability and much more attentive about how he dresses and whether or not it makes him happy. Good lord, England absolutely went mad for the punk scene when it swept through England, I’ll tell you that much. He still has the studded leather jacket in his closet and wears it on occasion - and his hair is longer now, more brushed and genuinely healthier.

So in short, England’s in a much better place about his physical body.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Okay, so in order to accurately read my review: first imagine a good 15 minutes of incoherent screaming/babbling/gesticulating while I tried to calm my brain down enough to explain why it was reacting like that.

Then imagine me carefully selecting "the best lines" only to realize I'd "selected" a good 90% of the fic.

Now:

"He was quiet and still for a moment, and Matthew thought that particular enough to frown.

"'What's the matter?'

"'I forgot my question.' Jack gave a sheepish grin. 'Sorry.'"

I love them, your honor. Poor Matt's just trying to sleep off a migraine, but Jack Has A Question and will be satisfied... oh, nope, he forgot. And "Jack sitting still is weird enough that something's wrong" is just... it's this little touch of knowing his brother, and also the lead in to "he forgot his very important question," and I love it.

"'Where's Father?'

"'Drunk,' Zee chirped, and Matthew startled. She had appeared in the doorway without him even hearing when the swish of her skirts should have been as loud enough to alert him, but he really was out of it. Oh God, were both of them on the same mission? He sat up. Jack could be distracted but Zee? She was a bloodhound. And she never forgot anything."

Again, I love them. Zee's matter of fact statement (Arthur, quit getting drunk in front of your weans), and "oh shit, I can't get out of this if she's on the case." The little juxtaposition between his reaction to both of their appearances and how he thinks of them... I love it, I love it so much.

"'Oh, right! That's what I wanted to ask. Olly's head.' said Jack. 'The one that Father says he keeps up on the mantle in that fancy box,' He pointed at the carved mahogany box on the mantel, etched with what he'd bet was Uncle Rhys spell work, but they didn't talk about that."

Okay, so to insert my own question, because Jack and I are kindred spirits in that regard: if the skull was in a glass case before the house was Jack-proofed, does that mean the box was made recently? Did the previous display include any spell work, or was there a reason to add it for the box specifically? Either "it's been warded since the day it came off" or "it was added well over a century later" would be fascinating looks into Arthur's mindset around the thing. Also, the image of Arthur asking his big brother to help him with magic... I'm so obsessed with the moments when, even at the height of the Empire, Arthur leans on his brothers.

"She lifted her chin and stared right back. 'You've seen it. So if it isn't in the box, show us the box.'"

This is such a small thing - I loved Matt trying to lie to get out of it and immediately getting outsmarted by Zee. Do not lie to the small child, Matt, she can best you.

"Arthur had made him look at it. Back then, before the house had been Jack-proofed, it had been displayed behind glass. The horrible shrunken skull with tight, parchment-mummified skin and a grinning jaw that wiggled when the display cloche over its base moved at all. It was a French flag over his land back then. Arthur had only closed one hand over his neck and made him look. The implication had been clear. That's where you'll end up, too, my boy, if you're not careful."

Aaaaaaand I am immediately snapped out of the cute sibling interaction and into the fucked-up-ness of their "family" and its existence. I just... fuck. Arthur deciding to threaten the small child under his care, and Matt understanding the threat... And the way you worded it absolutely drives the terror and the... power? Control? home. I can see it happening and feel the emotional tension between Matt and Arthur in that moment. And you did it in three sentences.

"At home… the head is powerful." She said carefully, as if translating a concept she'd never spoken about into English was difficult. Perhaps it was. Matthew didn't know what to say to that.

Once again crying over Zee. She's part English, sure, and in many ways the most like Arthur - but there's this whole other side to her that she can't talk about or represent the way she wants. Something about this bit is really driving home what she, Jack, and Matt are and the inherent fucked-up-ness of their existence.

"'Then why's Father got it?', Zee asked. They drew nearer, and Matthew stood, pulling them with him, needing out of that room, away from that box and its half-forgotten contents. He walked them to the door, remembering a day when he had been the problem, the opponent, the obstacle in father's way.

"'Because he made father his enemy.'"

[Cue my brain bursting into flames trying to process the emotions]

It's a lot. Like, Zee and Jack are just after "ooh, the creepy skull!" (with some cultural hesitation on Zee's part), but Matt's thinking about "the skull the man who calls himself our father used to communicate that I need to watch my step or I WILL be removed from the equation." But at the same time - sure it hasn't been said to the other two because they've been under the English flag since birth (well... legally), but they live under that same threat. The dichotomy of them being kids after something creepy their dad has, but also colonial holdings asking about the proof that the empire is vindictive and will end an enemy no matter where he finds it... it's doing things to my brain.

This fic was both extremely entertaining and gave me a LOT to think about, thank you so much for sharing it!

My brain just screams joy at me for like two days straight every time you comment I can't even express how happy it makes me. Everything I'm trying to do comes through to someone and it... it works???? A miracle. And god, yeah, Arthur in all likelihood wouldn't have hurt Matt because generally children are the one thing that can stay his hand in most contexts but if he'd been an obstacle threatening Alfred in a way that Arthur could tangibly see, it would have been done. He's generally more interested in protecting his children even before he properly claims them but they are possessions before they're people in so, so very many ways. Collected like the stuffed birds and the contents of the green house. Zee is trying so hard to articulate these concepts that have no English translation, unite these aspects of her that are utterly at odds and Jack's still young enough his questions don't have bitter unsatisfying answers yet and Matt already knows what they'll grow up to understand someday. There's just so much bullshit that lives in my brain and I'm so happy it got out on paper!

Okay, so to insert my own question, because Jack and I are kindred spirits in that regard: if the skull was in a glass case before the house was Jack-proofed, does that mean the box was made recently? Did the previous display include any spell work, or was there a reason to add it for the box specifically?

So this is something I'm kind of adding into established works because I audited a course on the history of magic and folklore to make a reference collection for those students to use and I got drop kicked back into my teenage pagan phase so now the hard core realism I've always liked sticking too is more and more turning into a very annoying attempt at magical realism I am so sorry lmao.

So I actually had 3 versions of the Cromwell head. One where it was as somewhat recorded in history. Just dried out, spooky, and sitting on the mantel. The second was that Arthur actually fused Cromwell's soul in there and actually talked to the thing sometimes. But that felt weird so I went with the third. That the skull, as was often thought of skulls through early European history acts as a kind of conduit. Arthur needs it because of all his siblings I think might actually be the weakest in whatever kind of magical ability there may be, I haven't decided how far I want to go in that direction. But being the youngest, he learned the least from their mother and didn't much care to learn much later. So the spell-work he did on the glass and cloche started wearing off about a century or so after Cromwell lost his head. It was keeping in the bad vibes from Cromwell's skull and keeping out the curious (like Jack) so Alasdair made a box and Rhys enchanted the thing to contain Cromwell and keep the curious (Jack) out. When the weans got older and Arthur no longer has servants and what not it just sits on the mantel. Zee puts an elf hat and fairy lights on it at Christmas and bunny eared headband at Easter just for maximum disrespect.

Rhys really just put so much overtime in when the kids are young, carving and enchanting various hex traps and witch boxes to keep shit contained. Wales and Scotland were among the first victims of English imperialism but also certainly participated it in it. So while Arthur quite literally probably has skeletons in the closet, they all are a part of this fucked up imperial mess.

[professor-tammi]

sorting 3H characters into... countries

occasionally I see 3H fans complain about how modern AUs put the characters in Very American Settings so here’s an entirely pointless list of which non-American real life country I think each student character’s parents would be from, only because I have nothing better to do with my time

I’m going mostly off of the character’s names for these, and given they’re largely either Germanic or French in origin, expect a lot of that. realistically speaking, in a modern AU, they could also be from any number of adjacent countries that share a language (eg Belgium for France, or Austria / Switzerland for Germany, etc)

Eagles

(While Adrestia is officially based on Italy, I have to acknowledge that their names are painfully German-sounding, so I’m mostly going with Germany for them.)

Edelgard: Italian / German. let’s go for a middle ground here (we’ll pretend Ionius is Italian and Anselma is German). her last name is technically Norse in origin, but I choose to ignore it :)

Hubert: Italian. Hubert is Germanic, but Vestra is quite Italian.

Ferdinand: German. again, a Norse last name, though.

Linhardt: German

Caspar: possibly Swiss, specifically because I’ve seen it noted that his last name is Romansh

Bernadetta: French -- both her first and last names (if we spell it Verley) are actually French :D

Dorothea: Italian (admittedly mostly due to the whole opera link, less so her name)

Petra: Polynesian / Irish. as with the other non-Fodlan countries in 3H, Brigid seems to not really map cleanly to any other real-life country, so this (admittedly rather unusual!) mix seems like the closest bet.

Monica: German

Lions

(Faerghus is mostly based on France, despite the cold climate bringing to mind the Nordics.)

Dimitri: French / Russian. there is really little reason to assume any Lion would be Slavic other than, specifically, Dimitri’s name but I’m a bit attached to the russian dimitri headcanons they are cute (there’s also Welsh in Blaiddyd, and Dimitri is a common name in some non-Slavic countries also, eg Greece... you could headcanon a lot just based on Dimitri’s name!)

Dedue: Sudanese, perhaps specifically Darfuri. okay Duscur is tricky to link to any particular country, and I’ve also seen it interpreted as South Asian, but I interpret it as vaguely Africa-inspired and given Dedue as a name is close to Dedun, a Nubian God, that is what I’m going with :D

Felix: French. I know Chinese Felix is a not uncommon interpretation and while I personally like it I can not reconcile it with how incredibly Spoiled White Boy Felix acts toward Rodrigue in canon. I just cannot (fun note: I’ve seen a theory around, by a Japanese fan, that Fraldarius may actually have been intended to be Fleur-de-Lis, which is as French as a name gets)

Ashe: French based on his English surname, but his Japanese surname is actually Spanish in origin.

Sylvain: French. very.

Mercedes: Spanish / German. Mercedes is Spanish in origin, but she’s Adrestian, and so her last name is particularly German-sounding (and is probably actually supposed to be Maltritz, not Martritz)

Annette: French (very minor localization gripe here too: I think her last name should’ve been spelled Dominique!)

Ingrid: Swedish / Greek. okay, this one’s a surprise, but Ingrid and Gunnar (her father) are both blatantly Nordic names, and her last name is distinctly Greek

Deer:

(The Alliance is stated to be a mix of Faerghus and Adrestia, but you can pretty easily tell which character’s family originates from which territory by looking at their naming pattern -- Firstname Middlename Lastname for Faerghus [French-leaning], Firstname von Lastname for Adrestia [German-leaning]. Several of their surnames are from Shakespeare plays, so you could instead headcanon them as British if you like.)

Claude: Iranian / German. Almyra is clearly Persia-inspired, and going by the naming pattern, Claude’s mother’s family would’ve originally been from Adrestia.

Lorenz: French, especially if we choose to instead spell his name as Laurence, which may have been the intention

Raphael: German e: or Dutch / Norwegian. he’s a commoner, so the naming pattern doesn’t apply, and while Raphael is too common a name in Europe to accurately judge, his last name is more Germanic-sounding -- and actually Norwegian in origin!

Ignatz: German e: or Dutch!

Lysithea: German / Greek; again, based on name :D

Marianne: she has the Adrestian naming pattern, yet with a distinctly French-sounding first name. so... French?

Hilda: French

Leonie: Italian. she has an actual Italian surname!

[the-void-writes]

I WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST SOME COMFORT SCENES BETWEEN JASON AND WILL, THANK YOU.

Maybe with Jason holding him after something bad happens? Maybe he got physically harmed / had a nightmare and reacted to it really emotionally? Physical comfort? 🥺

I don't see them interact and physically touch enough 🥺 and I need the good comfort food,,,, especially with all that ANGST you fed me 🥺 I'm parched like a little french peasant 🥺

@bloodlessheirbyjacques 🥺❤️

@bloodlessheirbyjacques I'M SORRY FOR THE ANGST BUT THANK YOU FOR THE GOOD FOOD 😂 I love writing comfort for these two. Here's Dad-Jason getting to show off his dad vibes.

(Bringing back the sick-Will moodboard because I can 😅)

Jason always checked on his students before turning in for the night. It was a comforting habit, for both him and the kids, to make sure everyone was okay. So when Jason heard crying from Will’s room, his heart sank. He knocked on the door gently, so as to not wake up the others.

“Will?” he whispered. “Can you open the door please?”

The door opened a tiny bit, and Will peeked out from inside. His eyes were red and clearly damp. He was heart-wrenchingly thin, almost skeletal, thanks to Vesely. Jason would have given everything he had to bring his boy back to health.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked.

Will barely held it together. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s never nothing.” He held his hand to his chest. “I won’t make you talk about it, but I’m happy to listen to you.”

“You don’t have to. It’s… dumb.”

Jason smiled. “You saw me cry over that pig at the zoo. Nothing could be too dumb for me.”

Will chuckled slightly, and after thinking about it, he opened the door. Jason stepped inside and sat in the little armchair by the window. One of the few good things Ves Corp actually did was give its students good furniture. Will had a wonderful vintage theme going on in his room, all of the kinds of things that Jason had in boxes and photos long ago. Still following in his footsteps, that sweet boy. Will sat across from Jason on his bed, staring woefully at the IV setup beside him. Always there, looming over him, just in case.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asked.

Will closed his eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings aren’t stupid. Don’t insult yourself like that, please.”

“It’s just…” Will sighed. “I’m just paranoid tonight. I don’t want to sleep.”

Jason nodded. “I see. Is there any particular reason why?”

Will bit his lip. “… I don’t think I’ll wake up.”

He started to cry again. Jason jumped to the bed and held him close, his heart aching more with each sob.

“Hey, it’s okay. That’s not stupid, at all. You don’t have to worry about that, okay? Avery will help you however he can. He’s done it before.”

“What if he can’t?”

“Will, I promise you, we won’t let you die— I won’t let you. I lost you once, and I’ll never let anything take you from me again.”

Will settled back down, still clinging to Jason’s coat. Two large wings curled around him, a warm shield from the rest of the world. He had missed that feeling terribly. Jason brushed his hand through the boy’s hair.

“Would it help you if I stayed?”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I can, if you want.”

Will huffed. “I feel like such a baby.”

“Gabe gave you a damn parasite, I think you’re allowed a pass.”

The boy chuckled, and a bit of life returned to his eyes. “Great, thanks.”

“Besides,” Jason said, “you’re never too old to be comforted. You’re stuck with my love and attention for the rest of your life.”

He ruffled Will’s hair, just to make him smile a little more. That smile was becoming a rarity, much to Jason’s sorrow. Carefully, he helped Will into bed, just as he had when he was a child, except with the added step of administering his medication. As bad as Will felt about taking up Jason’s time, he had to admit that he did like the attention. He never got that kind of paternal love from Isaiah, after all. Jason and Henry were the only real fathers he ever had.

“I’ll be over in the chair, if you need anything. Just get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow. That’s a promise.”

Will closed his eyes. “Thank you, Jace, for everything.”

“Of course, dear.” He kissed the boy’s head gently. “Sleep well.”

Jason sat back down in the armchair. He sent a quick text to Henry, letting him know what was going on and wishing him a goodnight. Will fell asleep in no time, though Jason stayed up a little longer to make sure he was okay. His breathing was always slightly congested now, thanks to the Infection, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. And with that, Jason let himself drift off, still so grateful to have a son to look after. He just prayed that he would never lose him again.

[briamichellewrites]

13 - Bria’s Version

Mike discovered Anna’s baby, Otis was his. Her boyfriend left after he found out he wasn’t the father. She and Mike sat down together. He laid out everything she did to him because of her cheating. Yes, he took responsibility for kissing Bria. That was his fault. At the same time, he found it difficult to be in a relationship because he had trust issues. He wasn’t going to walk away from Otis, but he wasn’t getting back together with her.

She understood and apologized again. He thanked her, though it would take more than that for him to forgive her. Together, they came up with a custody arrangement. They didn’t want to involve the courts because that would be a long and messy process. His parents were very proud of him for taking responsibility for his baby and for working things out with Anna.

He was a pacifist, who didn’t like fighting. Instead, he preferred to walk away until he was calm enough to think clearly. His little brother, Jason knew that quite well. They had the occasional fight as brothers but they always worked together to resolve things. Even if their parents had to intervene. He remembered when they would fight over toys or who was next to play video games. One of them would get sent to their room.

He missed those days. Jason was not a little kid anymore and he was so proud of his little brother. He wanted to work as an architect and help build cool-looking buildings. They encouraged each other and cheered each other on.

Mike was thinking about getting a dog to keep him from getting lonely. His father encouraged him to do that. What breed was he thinking about getting? He was looking into getting a French bulldog, though he wasn’t too particular about the breed. One thing he was concerned about was where the dog would stay while he was on the road. The dog could stay with him and his mother.

They would work something out. He thanked him. The next weekend, he went to the local animal shelter after getting permission from his apartment landlord. There were dogs of different breeds, ages, and genders all wanting to be adopted.

He brought Bria along with him because he thought she would have fun. They bent down and let the dogs come over to them. He laughed because he was so happy! How could he put them all? He wanted to take them all home, but he couldn’t. Bark. Bark. Woof. Woof. Their tails wagged in excitement. Pick me! Pick me! One of the dogs put their front paws on his lap. Hi, human! He jokingly asked Bria if he could bring them all home. She replied that she was thinking the same thing! He laughed again.

He found a white French bulldog named, Misty. She was a ten-week-old puppy, who loved playing and being curious. He was taken by her right away. Both he and Bria petted her. She acted as adorable as possible to be adopted. Pick me, human! She had to stop playing to scratch an itch behind her ear. A volunteer came over and asked if they had any questions.

After getting his questions answered, they went to the front counter to complete the paperwork and pay the adoption fee. While he did that, Bria held her. She opened her mouth to make it look like she was smiling. I’m getting adopted! I’m going home!

“Are you also adopting Misty”, the volunteer asked Bria.

“Oh no. I’m just along for the ride. If I could, I would. I’m a little too immature to take care of a puppy. Maybe in the future.”

“That is a very good reason not to adopt.”

Once everything was finished, they said goodbye and thanked the volunteers. Bria raised her paw and waved goodbye. Mike laughed. He could not put into words how happy he was! There were no words to express how happy he was! Misty and Otis were going to grow up as the best of friends. He would have to take her out to the bathroom multiple times a day.

They could multitask and bring Otis out for some fresh air. They had to stop at PetSmart to pick up some stuff. While they walked down the aisles, Misty sat in the front seat. She looked at everything and everyone in curiosity. It was all brand new to her. Bria was very happy to see him so happy! As Mike put his purchases away and got everything set up, she played with her and pet her. She was so cute! Bria looked at Mike and he saw genuine happiness.

Misty grabbed a toy and started chewing on it. Yum. Yum. It tasted like plastic. After getting everything sorted, he sat down and joined her. Misty knew that she found her forever home with a human that would love her and take care of her. She was caught up with her vaccinations but had yet to be spayed since she was too young. Grr.

She fought to keep the toy Bria was trying to take away from her. They laughed as they played Tug of War. She eventually let her have the toy. Thank you, human! Bria pet her and called her adorable. Yes, I am adorable! Thank you!

She waved the toy around in her teeth like it was prey trying to get away. Oh no, you don’t! She was a great hunter. After playing for a while, she got thirsty, so she looked for her water bowl. It took her a moment before she found it. Yum. The water tasted good! After getting refreshed, she went back to the living room to continue playing.

Back at her place, she worked on a song for Mike. It was about coming out of depression and finding happiness again. She thought about it while playing with Misty. He was the happiest she had seen him in a while. It was also a song for anyone going through depression or any other type of mental illness. He was going to love it when he heard it! She was going to record a demo the following day at the studio and surprise him.

The following day, he and Bria brought Misty into the studio to introduce her. She smiled as they gave her pets and called her adorable. Chester shook her paw, making them laugh. Was she housebroken? Not yet. They were working on that. Did he choose her name? No, she came with the name. He didn’t want to change it and confuse her.

They noticed how genuinely happy he was. He told them that he and Anna broke up. They were devastated because they loved Anna! What happened? She cheated and became pregnant. At the time, they were waiting to see if the baby was his.

She later had a noninvasive prenatal paternity test done with him and her boyfriend. The results showed he shared one hundred percent DNA with the unborn baby. With that, he stepped up as a father and took responsibility. They knew he wouldn’t walk away from her or his baby. He wasn’t like that. They were still proud of him for taking responsibility.

So were his parents. It was going to be hard juggling a puppy and a newborn baby but he could do it. After a while, Bria took Misty so they could get to work. Mike gave her his apartment key. He would meet up with them later. She took her paw and used it to wave goodbye. They said goodbye back. Chester mentioned he didn’t know who was cuter: the puppy or Bria. They laughed. It was hard to decide. They were both equally adorable.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[aminiatureworld]

Ikemen Vampire Headcanons I

Characters: Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo ft. gn!reader and the rest of the mansion

Premise: I'm sick so I wrote some random headcanons

Word Count: 1,914

Warnings:Various series spoilers

Napoleon Bonaparte

Monsieur Bonaparte is a closeted Romantic. He has read as a great deal of Percy Shelley, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights, The Sorrow of Young Werther Lord Byron’s works, etc. He’s also a closeted romantic. He definitely read Cyrano, and then locked himself in his room for two days after finishing it. He sees an appreciation for Romantic (and romantic) literature as part of the well-rounded nature of a gentleman. If he were a medievalist he’d be a passionate supporter of Courtly Love.

That being said Napoleon’s attempt at romance novel writing is very much a moot point. The only thing he writes now is entries in his diary and, somewhat endless, letters to you.

In a similar vein, Napoleon is surprisingly well put together in terms of clothing. He sees it once more as the mark of a gentleman. He’s also somewhat still chased by the view of him as an upstart or person of base origin. Fashion is one of the easiest ways to make people see you as ‘respectable’ and Napoleon uses this to the fullest when he goes out into the City.

Napoleon’s one capitulation to his past is a series of portraits he commissioned Leonardo to paint depicting his mother, father, sisters, brothers, wife Josephine, and son Napoleon II. He keeps them in a box in his dresser and only takes them out every once in a while, less so since you entered the mansion. Still, when he’s experiencing a particular pang of nostalgia or regret he likes to take them out and look at them. In particular he’ll sometimes talk to the painting of Pauline – his sister. He wishes that she were still with him so she could listen to her witticisms.

In a different capitulation to his past, Napoleon became a bit obsessed with Great Britain after being revived. He is after all still a military man in some ways, even if he can’t serve in the French army for, somewhat obvious reasons. He wants to know what exactly made Great Britain impossible to defeat, why the French Army had no chance of getting past the Royal Navy’s blockade, and why Trafalgar was such a blow for his army. He’d end up pestering Arthur with a lot of questions about British society, most of which wouldn’t get properly answered.

That being said he’d scoff at the idea of Britain being innately better than any other country or kingdom. I think if you told him France wasn’t as good as Britain he’d get genuinely offended. Might challenge you to a duel depending on the day (he wouldn’t actually kill you or anything but like, he’d probably nick you). He definitely fits the stereotype of the proud French man.

Napoleon’s obsession with empire kind of died with his original self. I don’t think he’d feel comfortable with royalist circles, not just because Napoleon was very much looked down upon by the upper classes and the aristocracy. He’s accepted by now that France is a republic and that’s the end of that. Any attempt to discuss the possibility of a French Empire like in his old life he’d brush off. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He secretly thinks Napoleon III is a buffoon, though out of some sense of familial loyalty he doesn’t let others know about his opinion.

Being a family man as he was and still is, Napoleon would still like children, though it’s something he’d be willing to talk to you about. Not everyone wants kids after all, adopted or not. Even if you didn’t want children Napoleon wouldn’t be too torn up about it. How many brothers does he have now? Too many. (At least he’s not trying to put them all on European thrones that’s right I’m calling you out dumbas-).

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Mozart has a love hate relationship with listening to other composers. He knows on a cognitive level that, having been surrounded by musicians and composers in his past, his style isn’t going to be affected by what he hears. Yet there’s still a part of his mind that worries that other styles, especially newer ones, will somehow rub off on him and contaminate his artistic vision.

So, though Saint-Germain offers often enough, Mozart only goes to concerts occasionally, usually for his birthday and then sometime during the holiday season.

He enjoys going to concerts of his own works and silently critiquing the artistic interpretation of the conductors. Honestly, you’d think these people couldn’t tell staccato from marcato. Plebians.

Though Mozart finds a lot of Romantic Era music too long and bombastic – how does Wagner not see that he disgraced the balance of the orchestra with his string section, how many violins does the bastard need – he enjoys Rossini well enough, as well as Paganini and some of Schubert’s Lieder. That being said, never take this man to a Mahler symphony. He won’t last the first movement.

Do not try making music jokes, it’s a lost cause. One viola joke later and he’s writing on a chalkboard about how the viola is central to orchestral balance, and how a violin and a cello couldn’t replace it, and how dare you assume that a violinist requires better technique to play, have you seen some of the viola parts? Violinists don’t have to read multiple clefs! Honestly the presumption, the ingratitu-

At some point everyone has left the room. Professor Mozart isn’t something anyone can handle.

Like the madman he is, Mozart quite enjoys writing piano trios. He does it to blow off steam, as it’s a challenging enough thing to do. He has composed at least one piano trio for every member of the mansion, two for Dazai and Arthur. He plays them when they’re being particularly annoying, it’s an inside joke for him.

Yet, though Mozart would vehemently deny it, he’s also written a variation on the favorite piece of every member of the mansion, it’s usually one of the first things he does upon meeting a new member. It’s a way for him to get a feel of their character, and also an interesting challenge to see all the different ways music can be composed. Dazai’s was especially interesting, though he also quite enjoyed composing Leonardo’s.

Though some have suggested it, Mozart refuses to go back and finish some of the pieces that were incomplete upon his death. He is a different man now, and cannot recollect the emotions and thoughts that would be required to properly finish up the pieces. He feels understanding when one must move on from compositions is vital to continuing to compose.

No one else can clean Mozart’s piano, and only Leonardo is allowed to tune. Everyone else must simply admire from afar. Except for you. Mozart will sometimes let you sit on his lap or next to him, gently placing his hands over yours as he guides your fingers in a semi-awkward dance.

If you play an instrument, no matter the instrument, he’d love to play a duet with you. You’ll have to be the one to bring it up though, he won’t do it himself.

Leonardo da Vinci

Leonardo secretly wishes to sketch every single moment of importance in human history. He sees is as a monument to humanity, a tapestry to show how people are capable of great things, whether good or evil.

He also enjoys sketching the every day things. His favorite collection of sketches recently was that of a woman threshing wheat. It was just a very beautiful and intimate moment. The small miracles of humanity, or so he thinks when he allows himself to feel sentimental. In a way, isn’t his art a contribution to those small little moments? He may be a vampire, but there’s no guarantee his art will stand the test of time as he has. As such he sees art as a way to connect with the ethereal nature of humanity. Yes, perhaps his art may not last a hundred years, but it was still worth creating, was it not?

Leonardo was the one who insisted that the mansion have such a large library, in truth he’s already planned a second one in one of the less used wings of the house. What can he say? His love of art is rivaled only by his need for knowledge. He needs to have the capacity to learn about anything at the tips of his hands, and if that requires using most of his money to buy books, so be it.

Non fiction is definitely Leonardo’s area, he’s not a huge fan of the novel. However he enjoys epics and plays and poetry. And who could resist The Divine Comedy or Chaucer?

He also has a shelf in his room dedicated to his notebooks where he writes down anything new he’s studied or learned about. If you want to see crazy tanks or flying machines, that’s where you check.

Leonardo has always had a sort of fascination with anatomy and with the way that bodies move and work. He’d love sketching dancers, athletes, or laborers in general. He also loves seeing the ways that people differ, and the beauty in such differences. The human form is shrouded in divinity, no matter the form. After all, are humans not the divine light of a vampire’s shadow?

Architecture is also something Leonardo enjoys. Throughout his tours of Europe and the rest of the world one of the things that have struck him most is the different architecture of every nation, and how it reflects the people who live in different countries. He also enjoys studying clothing for similar purposes, although he himself does not keep up with the latest fashions, opting instead for worn in jackets and the smock of an artist or artisan – which is what he sees himself as first and foremost.

Saint-Germain and Leonardo have had a romantic relationship at some point in time, and even when they choose not to be lovers they have a bond that is both inexplicable and deeper beyond what anyone can interfere with. They are platonic soulmates, and often romantic too. Leonardo secretly sees himself as the more grounded of the two. He’s correct in his assumption.

Of all the eras that Leonardo has lived through, he still has a soft spot for the 15th century Italian peninsula. What can he say, roots run very deep. There is a fear inside of him that he might someday forget himself, where he came from, how he passed his youth. As such he’s developed a very strong sense of nostalgia for his past, though he also enjoys seeing the way the world has moved and shifted, particularly the ways that technology has changed.

Though it’s in the future, Saint-Germain has told Leonardo a little bit about aeroplanes. The day that the Kitty Hawk flight happens is something that Leonardo is very much excited to see, even if he won’t actually be there.

Leonardo is very very domestic. There’s a reason that he’s the second father of the house after all. The moment he sees a baby or a child he wants to play with them or make them laugh or smile. Indeed Leonardo’s become slightly famous on the outskirts of Paris for bringing children all sorts of strange gifts, from wood carvings to music boxes. It’s something he takes pride in, and he hope that he might have a family someday, either as a father or as a very cool uncle.

[atlafan]

Je T’aime - One Shot

a/n: Bonsoir! I’m back on my French bullshit! Harry is the head chef at a five start restaurant, and he unfortunately has a new manager coming in: Ariel Bardin. They don’t start off on the right foot, and it just gets worse from there. How will they learn to work together? Read to find out! (not proofread) Support me here if you’re able! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY PLEASE REBLOG, DON’T JUST LIKE, REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG! LEAVE ME LITTLE NOTES IN THE TAGS, GIVE ME FEEDBACK! I’M BEGGING YALL PLEASE THROW A BITCH A BONE I DO THIS ALL FOR YOU!

Warnings: light soft dom/sub themes within the smut, hate fucking (light degradation, but not really???) lots of swearing, plenty of angst, and a tiny bit of fluff, mild choking

Words: 12.9K

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC (Ariel Bardin)

Managing a five-star restaurant was no easy task. Ariel had to make sure all of the schedules for the waitstaff were up to date, double check that the cleaning crew left everything spotless, and make sure those that came in early had set up the tables as beautiful as can be. There were many headaches that came with all of it: drama with the waitstaff, customers trying to get in without reservations, large parties that couldn’t be turned away because it was for someone famous – it’s what made the previous lead manager of Je T’aime quit. The owner, who lived far away, was not happy about this news since the previous lead manager had been there for years. So, he sent in the only person he trusted to get the job done – his daughter, Ariel Bardin.

Ariel was only twenty-seven, but she was honored when her father asked her to take over. She had plenty of experience in the food service industry, and she watched her father run the place for years. It was always her dream to manage Je T’aime, and now she finally had the chance. Being a lead manager meant giving up a lot of personal time, having to step in when the kitchen got busy, running food, and a lot more. Ariel was more than up to the task.

The head chef of the restaurant wasn’t so thrilled with the change in personnel, though. He had a good relationship with the previous manager in that the manager let him run the kitchen how he liked. Chef Harry had never met Ariel, but he had a feeling things would be a lot different. He was very particular, and ran a tight ship. He didn’t want someone else coming in and thinking they could take command. He knew he needed to get ahead of things. He had emailed her to see if she wanted to meet for dinner to discuss things before her first day, but she declined. Ariel appreciated the initiative, but she explained that she wanted to meet the entire kitchen crew at the same time. Harry was already annoyed that his efforts were thwarted.

Ariel was excited for her first day. She made sure to get a new pair of no slip grip shoes that weren’t totally ugly. She put on a pair of black slacks and paired it with a baby blue blouse. Lastly, she put her hair up in a cute ponytail, and put on a little eye makeup before heading out. She had requested a tasting at the restaurant before it opened for dinner, and she wanted to leave the cooks plenty of time to get their prepping done. She also wanted to get their early enough to set up her new office.

Before entering the restaurant, she takes a deep breath. She smiles and waves to the people setting up the dining tables as she makes her way towards the kitchen. She remembers being a little girl and going to work with her father. She loved it when he’d sit her up on one of the counters because the cooks would always let her taste test their latest creations. They figured if a child liked the cuisine, then adults would too. Ariel goes right to her new office, and smiles. Arthur had kept up the family photo of Ariel’s parents. Her mother was pregnant with her when they opened Je T’aime. In fact, her father named it that because Ariel’s mother was French, and her father learned the language just for her. Ariel’s mother passed a few years back, and it was pretty devastating. She was a wonderful woman, and Ariel always hoped to have a romance like theirs.

She snaps herself out of her thoughts, and starts taking out the things she brought with her from the box she was carrying. This was going to be a great day, she could feel it. She takes out a notepad and pen, and heads back out to the kitchen towards the chef’s office. She taps on the door frame when she sees two men sitting inside chatting.

“Hello?” She says to them, and they both turn in their chairs to look at her. “I’m Ariel, the new lead manager. Which one of you is Chef Harry?”

“That would be me.” Harry stands up to shake her hand.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. So, that makes you Chef Garrett, right?” She says to the other man.

“Correct, I’m the sous chef, it’s nice to meet you, Ariel.” He shakes her hand as well.

“Wonderful, is everything ready for the tasting? The menu’s changed a lot over the years, and I want to see if it needs anymore.”

“With all due respect,” Harry starts, “the menu’s more than perfect. It changes seasonally as is.” He crosses his arms.

“With all due respect, Chef, I don’t particularly care.” She smirks and crosses her own arms. “I’ve worked hard to get here, and my father finally trusts me to take care of this place. I’m not going to make him regret it. Now, if I like everything, then nothing will need to change. But I’ve got a couple of ideas I may like to try out, and you’ll have to deal with it when the time comes.” She smiles and leaves the office.

Harry and Garrett share a look, and follow her out. A few of the other cooks had already set up the plates for the tasting. Ariel greeted all of them warmly, and started tasting the food. She was impressed, for the most part, but she definitely had notes.

“These mashed potatoes could be whipped a bit more…possibly with more sour cream?” She says. “And this chicken…more seasoning could do it some good. The salmon is excellent, though, just delicious.”

“Chef Harry prepared that.” One of the cooks says, and Ariel looks back at Harry who had a smirk on his face.

Ariel narrows her eyes at him, and then turns her attention back to the food. She enjoyed the pasta dishes, but she makes a face when she gets to the steak frites.

“What…what are these?” Ariel asks as she points at the fries.

“French fries.” Garrett says.

“Mhm, yeah, they should be steak fries, freshly made. These look like they were frozen before.”

“Because they are.” Harry says. “They’re more cost effective. We season them after they’re fried, and they’re great for when kids come in.”

“Kids like steak fries just the same. I want fresh cut potatoes used. They’re more authentic. This isn’t a fast food restaurant. You already have to order potatoes for the mashed potatoes, right? I bet we’d get a discount if we order a larger quantity. We can talk it about it later.”

After tasting a few more things, and thanking the cooks, Ariel heads into the dining room to start greeting the waitstaff. Things felt a lot less hostile with them. Harry was fuming in his office with Garrett.

“It’s her first day and she already wants to change things! And the worst part is, she’s completely right about the bloody fries.” Harry huffs. “Steak fries would be ten times better!”

“Chill, Harry. She just needs to see how well you run things while it’s busy, and she’ll understand her place here. This is your kitchen.”  

“Right, good idea. Her real job is to manage the waitstaff.”

Ariel was on fire. It was a busy night because blackened salmon was the special. She was helping run food, and the waitstaff was extremely impressed. The previous manager rarely helped liked that. She was even running bread and water to tables, starting off orders, and helping seat. She even went behind the bar to help get drinks to tables, and help the bartenders catch up. It was a great first impression. She was exhausted by the time she got to sit in her office at the end of the night. She sat with the head hostess to go over the receipts before cutting her for the night. Her last task was to make sure the kitchen was closed down properly after locking up the safe.

“Ariel?” One of the cooks asks her as she steps out. “Would like anything for dinner before start to throw things away?”

“Throw things away?” She furrows her brows. “I have food at home, thank you, but don’t throw anything out. Surely we can start up a makeshift compost before getting a real one.”

“Oh, well, we don’t throw everything away, just-“

“Can you let me see all of the leftovers that usually get put in the trash?”

The cook nods, and she follows him. Harry was in his office checking over what the most popular orders of the night was, and getting some paperwork done. He notices Ariel speaking with Eddy, and he sighs. He gets up, and makes his way to where they are.

“Is there any particular reason your keeping Eddy from his sidework?” Harry asks her.

“I asked him to show me what usually gets thrown out. This could easily be donated or used for compost. I’ll be coming in early tomorrow to set up a new compost area, and I’ll be talking with the local food kitchens to see what they need. This is good food, and it shouldn’t be wasted.” She crosses her arms. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Why,” he sucks his teeth, “Come to my office when you’re done telling my staff what to do, we need to talk.” Harry turns on his heel and goes into his office, nearly slamming the door.

Ariel helps the kitchen and dish crew clean a few things up, earning herself even more brownie points, before going into Harry’s office. He doesn’t look up at her until she clears her throat.

“You wanted to talk?” She says.

“Yeah, have a seat.”

“I’d prefer to stand, thanks.”

Harry turns in his seat, and looks up at her.

“Are you and I going to have a problem?” He asks, standing up, towering over her, but she stands her ground.

“I don’t know, are we? Are you seriously going to tell me that you never thought of composting?”

“It’s expensive. We find other ways to stay green, though. You would have known that if you had gone to dinner with me. I could have told you everything you needed to know. But no, you blew me off, and decided to find every possible way to embarrass me and undermine me in front of my staff.”

“Look, Chef, I’m sorry if you feel disrespected, that wasn’t my intention. I just think a lot of changes need to be made. I spoke with the dining staff just the same, it wasn’t just your staff. This place means a lot to me, and I just want to make sure it’s being run well. I…I didn’t think a dinner would be appropriate for us.”

“Why? It’s not like I was asking you out on a date.” He scoffs.

“No, but I just assumed you were going to try to schmooze me or something, and I didn’t want to deal with it. Am I wrong in thinking you were going to try to work me over?”

“It wasn’t to work you over, but the last manager and I sort of had an understanding.”

“Which was what?”

“I do my thing, he does his, and we don’t get into each other’s hair.”

“Well, that’s not how this is going to work.” She gestures between the two of them. “I don’t want things getting hostile between us, for the sake of the staff. I didn’t think we’d be best friends or anything…but I was hoping we’d at least get along.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Not a great first impression.” He crosses his arms.

“Same could be said to you.” She scoffs. “If you start doing things better, then I won’t have a reason to talk to you. So, do better, Chef.” She looks him up and down, and then leaves his office.

Harry wanted to pull his hair out. This woman was going to make his life a living hell, he could feel it.

//

“What kind of a name is Ariel, anyways?” Garrett scoffs a week or so later. He was in charge of the new composter, and he wasn’t thrilled about it.

“I know! We her parents big fans of The Little Mermaid?” Harry chuckles.

“It’s French.” Ariel says, entering Harry’s office. “And it’s a family name. My grandmother’s name was Ariel, and my mother named me after her.” She looks at both of them and smirks. “And, Ariel just so happens to be my favorite Disney princess, so it’s an honor on many accounts.”

“Did you need something?” Garrett asks her.

“Yes, actually. I wanted to talk about Passover, it’s coming up and we need to talk about a kosher menu.”

“Seems like something for just the two of you to discuss.” Garrett says, and leaves quickly. Ariel takes his seat.

“A kosher menu, huh? Don’t you need a separate kitchen for that?”

“Not necessarily. I was just sort of thinking we could offer some different specials throughout the week.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve got a killer brisket recipe, we could offer a matzah ball soup too. There’s lots of stuff we could whip up. Oh! Macaroons would be good, and maybe some matzah bark as well. I’ve got recipes for all of it if you’re game.”

“When’s Passover?” He sighs and looks at the calendar on the wall.

“At the end of March, plenty of time to order what we need.”

“You know we do a brunch on Easter, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” She nods. “If we do for one, we should do for others.”

“If you email me the recipes, I can work on them.”

“Alright, I can do that. I ask that you don’t tweak them. They’re family recipes and I promise they’re golden.”

“One of our cooks is Jewish, he can work on them. I’ll be focused on the brunch food.”

“Oh…well, great, okay.” She stands up. “Thanks for hearing me out. I think a lot of our customers will be excited, and it’ll being good attention.”

“Listen, uh…I’m sorry about Garrett and I before. We were just-“

“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “I know you both don’t like me. I’m a bossy bitch that’s come in and made things difficult, I get it. This isn’t my first male-led restaurant that I’ve managed.”

“Hey, I’ve got no problem with women in charge.” Harry stands up. “You just came in like a bull.”

“Aw, would you have preferred if I pouted my lips and batted my eyes at you, and asked pretty please?” She pouts her lips and bats her eyes at him, making his mouth fall open. She smirks at him and shakes her head. “It’s too easy.” She laughs and leaves his office.

If he couldn’t stand her before, he definitely couldn’t stand her now.

//

It really pissed Harry off at how much the Passover food was liked. The restaurant had never been busier, getting completely booked with reservations from patrons that had never been before, but heard about the diverse specials. Then there was the Easter brunch. Ariel walked in with her hair half pulled up, and the rest of it flowing. She was wearing this gorgeous pastel pink blouse along with some navy slacks. She was dolled up for the holiday. She pumped up the staff during the pre-meal chat, and then she started running around with coffee carafes to help out the busy staff.

It was an elegant brunch, and Harry was also dressed up because the head chef usually went around the dining room checking in with the patrons. He wore his nicest chef’s jacket, and made sure his hair wasn’t too out of sorts before he went into the dining room. Ariel had never seen him be so personable. He was genuinely laughing with people at their tables, she couldn’t believe it.

Ariel was tired, but her customers were happy, and she got to go home around four, which was a blessing in disguise. She couldn’t wait to get home and flop herself onto her bed. She just needed to put the cash in the safe, and check the receipts.

“Is there any lobster mac ‘n cheese left?” She asks as she walks over to the line.

“Got a pan of it right here.” Eddy smiles at her.

“Amazing, I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” She scoops some into a to-go container, and adds a couple of other things she wanted.

“Why is that you always like the food I make the best?” Harry smirks as he also fills up a container for himself.  

“I’m not too big to admit you’re a very talented chef, Harry.” She says and looks at him. “It’s your personality that could use some work, Happy Easter.” She smiles at him. “Great job today, everyone!” She exclaims before making her way back to her office.

“Man, did you see Ari’s tits in that shirt today?” One cook says to another.

“Her tits? I was too busy sneaking a peek at that ass of hers. Wouldn’t mind tapping it.”

“Oi.” Harry says to them. “None of that, alright? It’s rude.”

“C’mon, Chef.” One of the cooks says. “I know you don’t like her, but even you can admit she’s hot.”

“Do you all want to get out of here on time to see your families?!” Harry shouts. “Finish cleaning up.” He huffs, and goes back to his own office.

“He’s not wrong.” Garrett says to the cooks. “Don’t be disrespectful.”

“Yeah.” Eddy chimes in. “Don’t think your girlfriends would appreciate it very much if they knew you were talking about another woman like that.”

Harry was about to head out for the day. He was going to go home and cuddle up with cat, Luna, and veg out. He walks by Ariel’s office, and he stops short. He sees her sitting with her face in her hands. He looks around behind him, they were the last two people there.

“Hey, are you alright?” He says as he opens the door, and she jumps in her chair a bit, obviously startled.

“Yeah.” She wipes under eyes. “I’m fine, why?”

“You just…were you crying?”

“No, don’t be silly.” She wipes under eyes again. “I’m just a little sweaty, I ran around a ton today.”

“How was the mac ‘n cheese?”

“I haven’t eaten it yet, I’m bringing it home…”

“When are you headed out?”

“Soon.”

“I can wait for you, if you want…”

“I’m all set.”

“Ariel, if something’s wrong-“

“Nothing’s wrong! Go home, Harry! I’m just finishing some things up.”

“You know something, you are a bitch.” He puts his hands on his hips. “I was just trying to be nice, and you have to be so nasty about it!”

“Right, because I need a fuckwad like you checking on me.” She rolls her eyes. She takes her leftovers and puts them in the trash.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’ve lost my appetite.” She says, standing up, grabbing her purse, and brushing by him on her way out.

Harry was shocked Ariel hadn’t turned his hair white with how much she stressed him out. The interaction they had pissed him off to no end. He had defended her, told his staff not to talk about her a certain way. Then, when he sees her in distress, she’s as ungrateful as ever. He tried calming down in the shower, but that didn’t work. He tried watching TV with Luna, but he just wanted to know what she had been so upset about in the first place.

He takes out his phone, and searches her on Facebook. He figured she must have one, if not he would search Instagram. He rolls his eyes when he sees how gorgeous she looks in her profile picture. She had most of her privacy settings on, but his eyes widen when he sees her tagged in a post. It was written in French.

Il y a quinze ans aujourd'hui, nous avons perdu notre Nana Ariel. Comme elle nous manque tellement, et nos étés avec elle sur les plages françaises.

Harry only understood a few words, so he taps the translate button: Fifteen years ago today, we lost our Nana Ariel. How we miss her so, and our summers with her on the French beaches. He furrows his eyebrows at the photos. It must have been a cousin that tagged Ariel. Her nana looked like a lovely woman.

“Shit.” Harry sighs. Ariel was probably putting on a brave face all day. He knew her mother had passed, but he wasn’t sure about her grandmother. Her female figures were gone, and he called her a bitch to her face. He felt terrible. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Harry gets off his couch and goes into his kitchen. An hour or so later, he’s driving to Ariel’s house to deliver a fresh lobster mac n’ cheese. He was lucky he knew her address. She lived in a quaint neighborhood. He pulls up out front, and goes up to her door, ringing the bell. After a few moments she opens the door. She was in a long robe, and slippers. Her hair was up in a bun on the top of her head.

“Harry?”

“Here, feel better.” He practically shoves the casserole dish into her arms. “And…I’m sorry I said that to you, okay?”

“What is this?”

“Lobster mac n’ cheese. You threw yours out because I was being an ass…but to be fair you snapped at me first.”

“What made you do this?”

“The Easter bunny came to me in a dream, alright? It doesn’t matter, just take it and eat it. M’sure you don’t feel like cooking after such a long day.”

“Well, you’re right.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ll take it, thank you. I shouldn’t have been so short with you.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to pry. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Yeah….” She almost invited him to have some with her, but as nice as the gesture was, she didn’t really feel like spending anymore time with him today. So she lets him leave.

Harry was back on his couch in no time with Luna, feeling much better than he did before. He feels his phone buzz, and he looks down to check his notifications.

Ariel Bardin: I don’t know what makes me more furious, the fact that you’re an incredible cook, or the fact that such a simple dish could make me feel ten times better

Harry smirks down at the message. This didn’t change anything between the two of them, but Harry felt a little better knowing there was a bit of a common ground between them now. They didn’t have to like one another, but maybe there would be a bit more respect.

//

There was a respect between them, but the two still bickered and argued and made things difficult for one another. He’d call her a spoiled brat, and she’d call him a fat headed fuck, it was just their thing. No one in the kitchen seemed to mind, especially because if Harry was yelling at her, then he wasn’t yelling at them. Garrett had warmed up to Ariel considerably over the last few months. He was starting to see that she really did mean well, and over time the changes she made were for the better.

A lot of people understood why Ariel and Harry butted heads so much. They both had dominant personalities, and kitchens were hot. Usually one of them would go into the walk-in fridge, and come out much more cooled down. As the summer months started, it just got worse.

“I’m not sending out wilted lettuce!” Harry screamed at her.

“It’s not wilted!” Ariel screamed back.

“Did you go to culinary school?! You’re not the fucking expert, I am!”

“So, you’re just going to chuck perfectly good lettuce because you think it’s wilted! Put your fucking glasses on!”

“Enough!” Garrett yells. “We’ll double check the lettuce and make sure none of the dingier looking pieces get sent out. Take a break, the kids are getting scared.” He was referring to the kitchen staff, and to the few waitstaff that were in the kitchen.

They both growl and walk away from one another. They stayed away from each other for the rest of the night. Ariel was there late catching up on some paperwork. She jumped when she heard something fall on the ground. She thought everyone had gone home for the night. When she goes out to the kitchen to see Harry, she sighs with relief.

“Scared the shit out of me, what are you still doing here?” She storms over to him.

“Prepping the dinner roll dough so it’s ready to go for tomorrow. It’s been too hot to make it in the morning. The prep cooks can just come in and use the ovens while it’s still cool if the dough’s already set and proofed.” He says as he continues to knead the dough on the counter.

“Why not have someone else do it?”

“Why should I make someone else stay late?” He scoffs.

“Well…here, I’ll get an apron so I can help.”

“I’m all set.”

“Don’t be silly, it’ll help you get out of here faster.”

“What do you care about that?”

“God, you’re so stubborn.” She goes to wash her hands, and steps over to the dough, but he swats her hand away when she goes to reach for it.

“Go home, Ariel.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“You! You’re my fucking problem! Cooking is supposed to be relaxing, this is my me time, and you’re ruining it!”

“Well, excuse me for offering to help!”

“I don’t need your help!” He slams a fist down on the counter, causing flour to splatter onto her chest and face. “Oops.” He smirks.

Ariel wipes her face off, gathers a bit of flour, and flicks it into Harry’s face. He takes a deep breath and looks at her.

“Oops.” She says in the same mocking tone he had.

“You know, for someone who hates wasting food, I’d think you’d be more careful.” He says, wiping his face off. “It was an accident when I did it.”

“Oh well.” She shrugs.

“You,” he starts walking towards her, backing her up to the opposite counter, “are one of the most infuriating people I have ever met.” They were practically chest to chest. She could feel his breath fanning over her face. “I wish you never started working here.”

“You know what they say, can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” She says, looking up at him with a searing gaze.

“It’s my kitchen, you get out.”

“Make me.”

Harry’s eyes widen, and his nostrils flare. He was about ready to boil over. He’s not sure what comes over him, but his flour covered hands reach up to cup her cheeks, and he leans down to kiss her roughly, pressing her further against the counter. She gasps as he does it, but she doesn’t fight him. She doesn’t push him away, she doesn’t do a thing to get him to stop. In fact, she reaches to tug at his shirt so he could be even closer to her. She could taste the mint from his gum, and his lips were insanely soft. He breaks the kiss first, but doesn’t move her hands from her face.

She opens her mouth to speak, possibly to question him on why he kissed her, but she doesn’t get the chance because he’s kissing her again, this time licking into her mouth. She pushes against him, backing him up to the opposite counter, and he grunts against her. Her arms move to wrap around his neck, and her fingers tug at his hair. Just as she was sucking on his tongue, he shoves her up against a nearby wall, and lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he carries her over to a counter to sit her on.

Their lips hadn’t parted, and they both needed air, but neither could stop. Harry kisses sloppily towards her neck, and she bites on her bottom lip to suppress a whimper. She reaches down to untie the apron he had on, and she tugs it off. His hands work to undo her pants just as he bites down on the crook of her neck, making her gasp.

“Lift your hips ups.” He says into her ear before nibbling onto her lobe. She does as he says so he can tug her pants down. He places his hands on her thighs, and scratches his nails down them before looking at her. “You want this?” She nods yes at him. “Need you to actually say it. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want.”

“I want it.” Her cheeks flush. “Happy now?”

“Very.” He growls, and bites down on her bottom lip before letting it snap back. He reaches between her legs, and he groans. “You’re soaked, did yelling at me rile you up?”

“No.” She blushes, and then tugs at his hair. “Stop talking before I change my mind.”

He tugs her panties to the side so he can get a real feel for how wet she is. He plunges two fingers inside of her, and her mouth falls open. Her head rolls back as he pumps them in and out of her.

“Christ, when was the last time someone fucked you?” He grunts. “You’re so tight.”

“Harry, please, shut the fuck up.” She grits her teeth and reaches for the button on his pants.

“Only cause you said please.” He smirks, and she flicks his forehead.

He sucks his teeth and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out a condom. She rolls her eyes at the fact that he’s one of those guys that kept a condom in his wallet, but she wasn’t going to complain too much. She was glad he had one. He takes himself out of his pants, getting them down just enough, and rolls the condom on. He looks at her, just to make sure one more time that it was alright and she nods. He splays his hands on her back, pulling her closer as he pushes inside.

“Fucking, shit.” He grunts.

“Try to last longer than a minute there, sport.” She says, trying desperately not to wince at the stretch he was giving her.

“God, I fucking hate you so much.” He says as he starts to thrust in and out of her. She grips his shoulders to hold onto him.

“The feeling’s, ngh, mutual.” She bites down into his shoulder to suppress her moans, but he yanks her head back by her ponytail.

“If I’m gonna fuck you, you’re gonna let out every single little sound, do you understand?”

“You really like telling me what to do.” She grunts.

“And you’re shit at listening.”

“So are you!”

“Weren’t you just telling me to shut up?! Take your own fucking advice!”

She lets out an exasperated noise, and crashes her mouth back to his. He grips her hips as he pounds into her. Her legs wrap tighter around him to get him even closer. They’re both moaning into the other’s mouths. One of his hands leaves her hip, and he brings it over to rub at her clit. She whimpers, and starts panting. He nips at her lips, and works his way back to her neck.

“Fuck, ugh, that’s it.” She mewls. “I’m close, don’t stop.”

“Can feel you squeezing me, like the way I feel?” He licks up her neck back to her ear, and then slots his mouth over hers, not even giving her a chance to answer him before she’s crying out.

She lets her body rest against his as he picks up the pace. He was close himself, but he was trying to savor how good she felt. She was soaked between her legs because of him. He’d never let her live this down. A few more thrusts, and he’s spilling into the condom.

He rests his forehead against hers for a few moments as he catches his breath. He pulls out of her, and tugs her panties back into place before helping her off the counter. They both wordlessly work to get their clothes back on properly.

“So, uh, do you really not want help with the dough?” She asks, smoothing some hair away from her face.

“No, it shouldn’t take me too much longer…thank you.” He chews on his bottom lip. “Why don’t you wait, though, I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Sure…I was in the middle of some paperwork anyways. Just come get me when you’re done.”

Harry nods and goes to wash his hands before getting back to what he was doing. Ariel makes her way to the bathroom to properly clean herself up. They walk to the parking lot together later in silence. He makes sure her car starts before driving off and heading home to Luna.

//

Work was…awkward after that. Everyone was confused because the kitchen had never been more quiet. Ariel had mostly kept to herself and if she had something to say, she was less brash. Harry was the same towards her.

“Do you think we could add pudding pie to the summer dessert menu?” She asks him. “Like an Oreo thing?”

“Um, sure, yeah…should be easy enough to work into the rotation.” He says. “Good, uh, good suggestion.” He swallows.

“Thanks, Chef.” She nods and walks away from him.

“Dude, not that I’m complaining, but what’s up with you two?” Garrett whispers to him as they both work to chop vegetables.

“Nothing.” Harry shrugs a shoulder. “We’ve just…reached an understanding, is all. We, uh, hashed things out a week or so ago.” He clears his throat. “Just focus on the your beets for the borsht. I need to get started on that chilled melon soup.”

Harry heads into the walk-in fridge to grab the cantaloupe he had already cut up to make the soup with. He was essentially making a creamy smoothie, but this was one of their summer best sellers. He stops short when he sees Ariel trying to reach for something on the top shelf.

“Need a hand?” He asks, and it startles her.

“Y-yeah, could you get the, uh, shredded Brussels down for me?”

Harry nods and reaches above her to grab the pan. He hands it to her, and she thanks him before making her way towards the door.

“Ariel?”

“Yes?”

“How…how have you been since-“

“We can’t talk about it now.” She shakes her head. “Find me later if you want.”

And that’s what he does. At the end of the night, Harry goes into Ariel’s office and sits down at the spare chair she had.

“So…what’s up?” She asks him.

“I just wanted to see how you were since we, you know…” He looks away from her for a moment. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to.” She shrugs. “It’s really not that big of a deal, it was a heat of the moment thing.”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Nothing more to it than that. I can’t help but notice that things have been a tad more civil between us over the last week.”

“I just haven’t wanted to make waves, I guess. Sort of hard to yell at the guy that made me come as hard as I did.” She says shyly, and he smiles.

“Glad I could finally be of some use to you.” He smirks.

“Don’t get too cocky. I have things at home that make me feel even better.” She smirks and his face falls.

“It was good, though, right?”

“Yeah…nice way to get some frustration out.”

“I think…I think that’s how we make things work here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, think of how peaceful everything’s been this week with us being nicer to each other. I think when we’re starting to get on each other’s nerves we should just fuck because clearly talking shit out doesn’t work too well.”

“Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?”

“The word buddy implies that we’re friends, and we’re not. I still can’t stand you, Ariel.”

“Likewise.”

“But you’ve got a tight cunt that I wouldn’t mind fucking into again, so what do you say?”

“Harry, this is a five star restaurant. We can’t just fuck in the kitchen every time we get on each other’s nerves. That’s a major health code violation.”

“So we wait.” He shrugs. “We both have cars and houses. Lots of places to let out our frustrations.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that.” He says, and stands up to leave.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Might have mentioned to my cat, but only because she was mad at me for getting home so late. I’m not one for bragging about intimate details.”

“Good.” She nods. “Thank you.”

Harry leaves her office and she sighs heavily. She wasn’t expecting the conversation to go that way at all. Ariel thought for sure Harry was going to say that it was a mistake and it never should have happened, but he didn’t. He wanted to fuck her s again, he said it himself. And he wasn’t wrong, the kitchen had been a much happier place to be over the last week. The only thing was, she didn’t know if she wanted to give into his request so easily. He was the one who admitted to wanting to do it again, not her. The ball was totally in her court! She also wasn’t too sure how smart it would be to start fucking her chef on the regular. It could do more harm than good.

//

“What do you mean you let a party of fifteen come in?!” Harry shouts at Ariel, who was now putting on an apron and gloves to help the cooks out.

“You heard me! We can either waste time arguing about it, or we can get to preparing their meals! It’s not you who’s gonna have to stay late, it’s me and my dining staff.”

“Why would you let a group of fifteen come in right before closing?!”

“Because they paid up front with cash for four bottles of $500 wine!”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, holy shit. They already gave us their order, so we just need to get everything out to them, and then everyone can clean up. Let’s move!”

Harry sighs heavily, but does as she says. He and Garrett get to work on the entrees while the cooks work with Ariel on the appetizers. She runs the food out so she can help out her dining staff that were trying to wrap up their sidework. Two hours after closing, the large party left, and luckily they left a huge tip. They apologized over and over again about coming in so late. Apparently they were in a production for something, and it closed so they wanted to celebrate. Ariel assured them it was fine. She sighs when she’s finally able to go back into her office. She still needed to go over all the receipts for the night.

“Need any help with that? I know your hostess usually gets this done with you…” Harry says as he walks into her office.

“No, thank you.” She says without looking at him. “You can go, I don’t need you to wait for me.”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” He shakes his head and sits down. “You tried to force yourself two weeks ago into helping me make some bread dough, and now here I am offering up some help and you won’t take it.”

“Guess the shoe’s on the other foot.” She still wouldn’t look at him, so he reaches forward to grab her chin, and turns her head in his direction.

“You’re, quite literally, the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah? Then why are you trying to fuck me right now?”

“Who said I was trying to do that?” He says, letting go of her and sitting back in the chair.

“Please, it’s so obvious.” She scoffs. “We’re the last two people here, you’re coming in here offering help. What’s wrong, hm? None of my waitresses wanted to suck you off?” She pouts at him, and his face hardens.

“I have never done anything like that with a member of the dining staff.”  

“No? They sure talk about you like you have.”

“You sound a little jealous.” He smirks.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She deadpans.

“You know, when my cooks make crude remarks about you, I tell them it’s wrong and to stop. Do you even try to defend me when you hear them talking out there?”

“Sure I do, I tell them that this neither the time nor the place for any of that, and that they should have more respect for you. One of the bartenders, Jess, she seems to have a thing for you. Her eyes are glued to you every time you come out into the dining room. Why not go be her fuck buddy?”

“Because I don’t want to fuck her.”

“And you want to fuck me?” He nods yes at her. “Why?”

“Because despite how much I can’t stand you, it was a good fuck and I’d like to do it again. This isn’t news, we’ve talked about this already.”

“I smell like food.” She mutters as she gets back to checking the receipts.

“So do I.”

“So, go home and shower and meet me at my place in a little while. I’ll text you when I’m ready.” She looks at him. “Go feed your cat or whatever, I’m sure she’s missing you.”

Harry tries his best to bite back the smug look that was growing on his face. Wordlessly, he stands up and leaves her office. Ariel shakes her head and continues with their work.

“Far too easy.” She says to herself with a smirk.

//

Harry didn’t end up at Ariel’s place until nearly midnight. It took her a while to finish things up at work, and then she wanted to shower so she didn’t smell like food anymore. Her rings her doorbell, and she opens it wearing the same robe she had been wearing the first time he showed up at her place, only this time she wasn’t wearing her cute little slippers, and her eyes weren’t puffy from crying. She doesn’t say anything to him, she just steps aside to let him in.

He doesn’t look around, he doesn’t compliment her place, all he does is kick his sneakers off, cup her jaw, and shove her up against the wall. His mouth crashes to hers, and she sinks into it. She almost wanted to sigh with relief. It was amazing how simply kissing someone could make you forget all your troubles. She tugs him closer to her, and his hands brush down her body to lift her up.

“Where do you want it?” He breathes as she wraps her limbs around him.

“Bedroom, upstairs.” She says before kissing on his neck.

He grunts as he finds his way to the staircase, and carries her up. Of course, he makes a few pit stops to kiss her, smoosh her up against the wall and lick into her mouth. When he finally does make it to her room, he practically tosses her on the bed. He starts to rid himself of his clothes while she sits and watches.

“Aren’t you going to take yours off?” He asks after getting his shirt off.

“M’only wearing this.” She shrugs. “Thought you might like to take it off yourself.”

“Stand up.” He tells her and she does so, walking over to him.

His hands reach for the tie on her robe, and he undoes it. He pushes it off her shoulders, and licks his lips when he sees her naked body, the robe pooling at her feet. He wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her close so he can kiss on her chest. He licks between the valley of her breasts before pulling one of her nipples into his mouth with his teeth. He sucks on it harshly, eliciting a soft moan from her. He walks them back towards the bed, and he pushes her onto it. He climbs on top of her, and goes back to kissing on her chest. He works his way down her stomach, nipping where he pleases, before he’s able to lay comfortably between her legs.

“You…you don’t have to.” She says to him, and he looks up at with a confused look.

“I know I don’t, I want to. Didn’t get to do it last time.” He rubs circles into her thighs with his thumbs. “Do you not want me to?”

“No, I just…I don’t know, it’s sort of intimate for what this is.” She chews on her already swollen bottom lip. “You really want to?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t wanna suck your dick.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath and opens her legs for him.

He uses his thumbs to open her folds up a little more so he could better see what he was working with. Ariel always hated this part when a guy would go down on her. She always felt like she was at the doctor’s office getting a checkup. She stopped feeling like that the second his tongue licked around her clit. She sits up on her elbows to watch him. He continues to lick around her clit, watching it get a little more swollen each time and then he sucks on it.

“Ah!” She gasps, reaching for his hair to tug on.

His fingers soon replace his tongue on her clit so he lick around where she’s wet for him. He moans into her after he finally gets a real taste. She smelled sort of like cocoa butter, he assumed she moisturized after her shower. For a woman that couldn’t stand him, she sure was considerate. He licks into her, and she squeaks out a noise that she had never heard come out of her own mouth. Ariel tries to wrack her brain, but she can’t seem to recall a time where a guy had ever actually licked into her before, teasing her in such a way with their tongue. Harry was licking and sucking on her while his fingers were working magic on her clit. She had tears in her eyes from how good it felt. Her thighs were squeezing against his head, and her heels were digging into his back, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up with fucking her with his tongue.

“Shit, I…fuck, Harry, I’m gonna come!” She warns him, and all he does his moan into her, encouraging her to do so.

She tugs on his hair a little harder as she cries out, back arching and head rolling back. He sits up and licks his lips. She was speechless, she had no words. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out a condom before standing up to get his pants off. His cock slaps back against his stomach once it’s free, and her eyes widen. His tip was already leaking.

“You got that turned on just from eating me out?” She wasn’t being condescending, in fact, her tone was full of shock.

“Yeah.” He says as he rolls the condom on. He knees back onto the bed, and shuffles to sit up against the headboard. “Since you’re not gonna suck me off, the least you could do is ride me for a bit.”

Her mouth falls open at that. She wasn’t quite sure how he expected her to have the energy to ride his dick after what he just did to her. She furrows her brows, and moves herself onto his lap. When they make eye contact, she realizes that she doesn’t want to look at him, so she turns herself around to ride him reverse. She guides him in, and sighs into her ear once he hits bottom. She takes a moment just to get reacquainted with him before she starts to swivel her hips in little circles. He gets an arm around her, securing it between her breasts, and gripping her shoulder to help keep her close and steady. He nibbles on her earlobe, and she whimpers. He carefully thrusts up into her as she grinds on him. She couldn’t believe the restraint he had. Most guys would thrust up too far when she was on top and it would hurt. But this…this felt heavenly. She almost hated him more because he was so good.

His mouth moves to the crook of her neck, sucking a bruise into her skin. Her head rolls back, and his other hand snakes around to rub at her clit. She picks up the pace, bouncing a little more on him. The way he was grunting and moaning was giving her goosebumps, which was an odd sensation to feel while her skin also felt extremely hot. His tip starts to hit her g-spot in just the right away, and she loses all control of the noises she’s letting out.

“That’s it.” He groans. “Come all over my cock.”

“Oh my god.” She mewls.

Her fingernails sink into the meat of his thighs as she cries out. She arches into him, and looks up at him, almost distressed, so he licks into her mouth. One of her arms hooks around his head to tug at his hair as she rides out her orgasm. She squeezes around him so tightly that after one more thrust he’s spilling into the condom. She lets her body go slack against him as they both catch their breaths. He sponges open mouth kisses to her neck and jaw before lifting her off of him. She whimpers from the abrupt change.

“Sorry.” He says. “Know that stings a little.”

“Yeah, just a little.” She swallows.

She watches him get off the bed and throw the condom away. He walks right into her bathroom, he didn’t even ask first, and she wasn’t sure why that annoyed her so much, but it did. When he comes out, he grabs his clothes to put back on. She goes to the bathroom next and puts her robe back on when she comes out. She walks him down the stairs and to the door.

“Well, uh, have a good night.” He says, running his hand through his hair.

“You too.” She opens the door for him, and he quickly steps out. She closes it and sighs, resting her forehead against it. She hated him, she really did.

//

A pattern had started between them. After hooking up, things were usually cool for about a week, until they’d eventually fight over something. The cooks almost wanted to set up a bingo card of things they fought over.

“Why can’t we offer lentil pasta instead of just gluten free?!” She yells one day.

“Because lentil pasta is more expensive than standard gluten free pasta!”

“You’re such a cheap prick!”

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to save this restaurant some money!”

“We can splurge on some different options! It’s what the people want!”

“Oh, did your bloody survey results tell you that!”

“Yes, as a matter of fact!” His eyes were full of rage. They were both in his office going over the order sheet.  “Why can’t we just order it, try it out, and see how many people order it? If it’s a flop then we don’t have to order it again!”

“Fine!” He throws the clipboard with the order sheet onto his desk. “You’re coming to my place tonight.” He says lowly.

“M’allergic to cats.”

“Take a decongestant then.” He brushes by her to open his door, and he slams it behind him, leaving her standing in there.

Despite her gut telling her not to go, she follows him to his house after work. They say nothing to each other as they walk in. Luna comes over to greet Harry, and he picks her up. Ariel grimaces at the cat.

“You seriously don’t think she’s cute?” Harry asks.

“I’m not a cat person, they’re no fun.”

“You just haven’t met the right cat, then.” He snuggles Luna to his cheek for a moment before setting her down. “My room’s this way.” He nods towards the hall on the right, and she follows him. He walks straight into his bathroom and turns the shower on.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re doing this in the shower, I smell like steak.” He says, already taking his clothes off. She crosses her arms and huffs. “What?”

“I don’t want to shower right now. Just rinse off quick.”

“Ariel, I wasn’t asking. Get your ass in the bathroom, now.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? What do you think this is? You can’t just – mmph!”

He had yanked her into him, kissing her to shut her up. She doesn’t fight him on it at all, and he walks them both into the now steamy bathroom, kicking the door closed. They both work quickly to get the other naked before stepping into the warm water.

“You better have a fucking spare towel.” She mumbles against his lips.

“Obviously.” He bites her bottom lip and then steps back from her. He reaches to grab his body wash.

“You’re seriously taking a shower?”

“Yeah.” He says as he lathers his body up. “I was balls deep in au jus today.” He steps in the water to rinse himself off. “Much rather be balls deep in something else, though.” He tugs her to him, licking into her mouth, and reaching between her legs to rub at her folds. His middle finger slips inside her, and she gasps. “Always so ready for me.” He grunts, and backs her up against one of the tile walls. “Can I hit it raw?”

“Are you, um, are you clean?” She asks.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah.”

He grins, and hooks one of his arms under one of her legs to lift it up enough for him to have the room to thrust up into her. She grips his shoulders as he rocks in and out of her. He slots his mouth over hers and they both moan. Her nails rake down his torso and she grabs onto his love handles for dear life as he pounds in and out of her.

“You really fucking pissed me off today.” She says to him. “It’s just pasta.”

“You like spending money left and right.” He grunts.

“If people like it, then it’ll bring in more business. It could pay for itself.”

“The more people that want it, the more we’ll have to, shit, buy.”

“I’m aware of how supply and demand works, you asshole.”

Harry growls at her and presses his other hand to her throat.

“Do us both a favor, and just shut the fuck up, yeah?”

She nods at him and he lets go of her throat, but she pulls his hand back to keep it there. He groans because, quite frankly, it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen someone do. He wasn’t going to last very long, and he had no way of rubbing her clit.

“Touch yourself, rub your clit.” He says into her ear, his breath hot on her.

She snakes a hand between the two of them, and she whimpers when she touches her throbbing clit. She presses on it and rubs circles into the little bud.

“Ah, oh fuck.” She starts panting. “Just like that, Harry, shit.” She wanted to cry she was so close. She bites down on his shoulder as she comes to her release. She didn’t want her noises to scare his cat.

He pulls out of her quickly and comes on her stomach. He steps away from her and grabs his shampoo. She stands there awkwardly while he scrubs his head.

“You can use my body wash if you want.” He says, nodding to it. Ariel doesn’t say anything. She starts to tear up. “Hey, whoa, are you alright?”

“I…um…” She blinks a few times, but can’t really form a sentence.

He’s not sure what’s going on, but it he takes it upon himself to guide her back into the water to rinse her off. He gets his body wash on a spare cloth to wash her with, and then he turns the water off. He grabs a towel to wrap around her, and then gets one around himself. He picks her up and sits her on the sink counter to get a better looks at her.

“Talk to me, what happened?”

“I’ve never, um, let someone, uh…choke me before.” She looks up at him, and he sighs.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Just felt a little…floaty for a second, like, lightheaded.” She swallows. “M’fine, I think it was just the steam. I have asthma and it can act up after a particularly hot shower.”

“If I had known I wouldn’t have-“

“I put your hand back on me, it’s okay.” She takes a deep breath and hops off your counter.

“Do you…wanna just crash here?”

“No.” She laughs. “Not at all.”

“You can’t drive if you’re all lightheaded.”

“I’m fine now.” She says as she puts her clothes back on. “I need to get going, I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s your day off.”

“Yeah, and I have things to do.” She leaves his bathroom, and he follows her out to his front door.

“Just…could you at least text me when you get home?”

“Sure.” She nods. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She’s out the door in a flash. Harry didn’t quite understand why things were always so awkward with them afterwards. It was like neither of them ever knew what to say because they just didn’t really know how to be soft with one another. Harry scoops up Luna and brings her to bed with him. About twenty minutes later his phone buzzes.

Ariel Bardin: I’m home

Harry Styles: thanks for letting me know, you made me nervous for a second there

Ariel Bardin: I’m fine, you can go back to not giving a fuck now

Harry Styles: will do, goodnight!

Every time he was nice to her, she had to reject it. He hated her, he really did.

//

“You’re really liking it, you’re not just saying that?” Ariel’s father, Frank, says to her.

“Yes, Papa, I swear.” She smiles. “It’s better than I thought.”

“Good.” He sips on some lemonade. “You look awfully tired.”

“It was a long night.” She shrugs.

“How are things going with the head chef, Harry is it?”

“Yeah, um, I mean, we butt heads from time to time, but it’s fine.”

“It wouldn’t be a normal kitchen if the manager and chef didn’t butt heads.” He chuckles. “I used to fight with the chef all the time.”

“Papa…Uncle Matthew was the head chef when you were there.”

“Don’t I know it. We fought constantly, stubborn old bastard.” He shakes his head. “We still argue about recipes to this day.” He laughs. “Tell me, are you still planning to do the staff appreciation shindig at the end of the summer?”

“Course I am. Hotel’s booked and everything. It’s going to be a fabulous evening.” Ariel smiles. “The dining staff are really excited.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Do you think you’ll bring a date?”

“Papa.” She groans. “I’d have to be seeing someone in order to bring a date.”

“You work too much, you don’t make time for yourself. Your mother and I were married with a kid by the time we were your age, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m the kid.” Ariel laughs. “I just have other priorities right now.”

“There’s really no one you’re talking to? No one that you like?”

“No.” She takes a sip of her own lemonade. “Don’t worry about me so much, I’m perfectly content, alright?”

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in defense. “I won’t ever stop worrying about you, though, that’s the curse of being a parent. At least let me pay for a new dress for the party, hm?”

“You know your money’s no good. I’ll send you pictures, though.”

“Please do, you always look so pretty when you get all dressed up. Spitting image of Mama.” He smiles.

“Thanks, Papa.” She gives his hand a squeeze. “Maybe, um, when I feel like I can take a vacation we can go to France? We haven’t been in so long, and I think it would be good to see our cousins.”

“If you plan the whole thing, sure.” He shrugs. “I think it would be a blast.”

//

Ariel was feeling a little nervous for the staff party. Not only was the restaurant closed for the weekend, but her staff had never seen her in a dress before. She was second guessing everything. Her hair was down and wavy, and she had on this gorgeous navy blue, lace mini dress paired with white heels. When she walked down the hall to the elevators she heard someone suck their teeth. She turns to see it’s Harry.

“Oh, hi.” She blushes.

“Hi.” He looks her up and down. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, so do you.” She swallows and steps inside the elevator once the doors open. Harry steps inside as well, and presses the button for the floor they need to get to with the small ballroom. “Should be a fun night, huh?”

“I’m hoping so.”

“It’s usually a good time.”

“I remember coming with my parents when I was little, it was great. They let me drink all the Shirley Temples I could stomach.”

Harry chuckles slightly at that. In that moment she wasn’t sure if she had ever genuinely made him laugh before. They had hooked up a few more times since the night in his shower. It was always the same, hot and heavy, and then awkward when they were done.

“Wait until you see Garrett on the dancefloor after a few drinks, he can breakdance.”

“No shit, really? I’ll have to keep an eye out.” The elevator dings and they both get off and head towards the ballroom. They both could hear the music the DJ was playing. “Well, have a good time tonight.” Ariel makes her way over to some of the dining staff members that were closer to her age. She had become friendly with a few of them.

Harry migrates over to where his staff was, and buys them all a round of drinks. Ariel stayed nursing on the same vodka-tonic for a bit. She didn’t want to get trashed. She was talking with a couple of the hostesses, having a good time.

“Alright, ladies, I’ve had a couple of drinks, I’m gonna go talk to Harry.” Erica says to them. “My mistake last year was waiting until the end of the night to talk to him. I’m starting earlier this year.”

“And what’s the end goal here, exactly?” Ariel smirks.

“To see what his hotel room looks like, of course.” Erica winks and walks over to where Harry was. “Evening, Chef.” She smiles.

“Hi, uh…”

“Erica.”

“Erica! Right, I knew that. You still working behind the bar?”

“I hostess too.” She smiles.

“Good for you.”

“Are you having a good time?”

“I am.” He nods, and sips from his drink. His eyes flash to Ariel and then back to Erica. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Must be nice that you have the whole weekend off for a change.”

“It’s definitely a nice break.” He smiles, and looks at Ariel again. “Could you excuse me for a moment? I just remembered something I needed to tell Ariel, and I don’t wanna forget again.”

“Oh, um, sure.”

Harry walks away from Erica, and she pouts.

“Don’t take it personally.” Garrett says to her. “Personally, I think he has a thing for Ari, but I have very little proof.”

“Are you kidding? They can’t stand each other.”

“Maybe so.” Garrett shrugs.

Harry makes his way over to Ariel, and clears his throat to get her attention.

“Yes?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Come dance with me.”

“Very funny.” She scoffs.

“M’serious. I think it would be good if everyone saw us palling around. Show them the squabbles we have are purely work related.”

“Harry, I have a feeling I’d hate your guts no matter the setting.”

“Just humor me, will you?” He says, visibly annoyed.

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, and finishes her drinks before following him to the dance floor. A slower song was playing, so she figured it wouldn’t kill her to dance with him.

Once they’re on the dancefloor, his hands go on her waist, and she puts her hands on his shoulders. They sway back and forth for a bit, and it just feels awkward…

“This is weird.” She giggles, and he can’t help but laugh too.

“Why is that the only things we’re good at doing with each other is fighting and fucking?” He smirks.

“Been wondering the same thing myself.” She smirks back at him. “Things would be so much easier if you didn’t question every little thing I wanted to do.”

“Someone’s gotta play Devil’s advocate.”

“You’re not the advocate, you’re the Devil himself.” She rolls her eyes, and it makes him laugh.

“I happen to be a very nice person, you just tend to bring out the worst in me.”

“I suppose a guy who named his cat Luna has to have a soft side.”

“Oi, leave her out of this.” He pouts at her. “You’ve warmed up to her.”

“She’s alright.” Ariel shrugs.

“Those are, uh, really beautiful earrings you’re wearing.” He blushes slightly.

“Oh! Thanks, they were my mother’s. She left me all her good stuff.”

“You must miss her a lot.”

“Yeah.” Ariel sighs. “But it’s nice having these little pieces of her.”

“You know, I’ve never asked, can you speak French fluently, like, are you bilingual?”

“Je ne sais pas, dites-moi.” I don't know, you tell me. She grins at him.

“Okay, I know you said I don’t know…something…me…” He narrows his eyes in thought.

“Dites is tell, it’s the past tense of ditre, which is say.”

“Ah, right, it’s been a while since I conjugated a French verb.” He chuckles. “Remind me, how do you say fuck in French?”

“Merde.”

“I thought that was shit.”

“It works for both.” Ariel shrugs. “There are a lot of variations and translations, like, if I wanted to say I want to fuck you, I’d say Je veux te baiser, but baiser translates to kiss.”

“French is so confusing.” Harry shakes his head. “But it sounds nice while you’re speaking it.” The song ends and she tries to step back from him, but he keeps his grip on her waist. He leans in to whisper in her ear, “Tu veux coucher avec moi ce soir?” Do you want to sleep with me tonight?

“You could have at least used the formal voulez-vous.” She sighs.

“Just answer the question.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oui.” She nods. “But I wanna do it in my room so I can hang my dress up. I don’t want it getting wrinkled.”

“Do you wanna head up now? Think I’m done hanging out with everyone else.”

“Yeah, let’s go. Uh…go ahead of me, I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

Harry nods and makes his way off the dancefloor. Ariel counts to ten Mississippi before making her way out. Harry was leaning up against the wall waiting for her. The elevator dings and they both head inside. Before she knows it, she’s being shoved against the wall, and Harry’s tongue is down her throat. She wraps her arms around his neck, and she groans when he presses himself against her hip. When the elevator dings on their floor, he steps back from her, and they both quickly walk to her room. The second she’s inside, she kicks her heels off, and jumps up for Harry. He carries her over to the bed, and they both fall onto it. They’re both being sloppy with their kisses, but neither cares. The need to be close is overpowering. She starts unbuttoning his shirt while his lips stay on hers. She imagines they’ll still be red and puffy by morning.

He flips them both over so he’s on his back, and she grinds herself against his growing erection. He grips her hips and helps her rock back and forth. She kisses on his neck, and sucks on the area just below his ear. His hands squeeze and knead her ass as a bruise starts to form where her lips are.

“Fuck, need you naked.” He grunts, sitting up to tug on the hem of her dress.

“Hold on, you’re gonna rip it! There’s a fucking zipper on the back.” She huffs.

In the next second, he’s shoving her down onto her stomach so he can undo the zipper of her dress. He pulls her up by the hips so she can free her arms, and then she’s being moved into her back so he can get it the rest of the way off.

“Take your underwear off.” He says as he undoes his pants.

“No.” She smirks at him.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You do it.”

“Ariel.” He says firmly. “Have you not learned how this works by now?” He moves to hover over her, kissing her slowly. “I talk, and you listen.” She shakes her head no, and his eyebrows raise.

“What makes you think you’re always in charge, hm? I let you do all of these things, you know?” Her smiles grows wider. She pecks his lips before speaking again. “Now, tell me you hate me and take my bra off.”

He sits back, and yanks her into his lap. He works to undo her bra, and tosses it across the room. He kisses on her chest, and sucks on the plushier areas before taking a nipple into his mouth. He pops off with a smirk.

“I don’t just hate you, Ariel, I absolutely loathe you.” He pushes her down onto her back and yanks her underwear off. He finishes taking his own clothes off, and he reaches for a condom, but she grabs his wrist. She shakes her head no. “You sure?” She nods her head yes, and he moves back over her.

He kisses on her neck while one of his hands roams down her body and between her legs. He slides two fingers inside her, and she moans softly. He pumps them in and out slowly before curling them up inside her, and rubbing his thumb on her clit. She grips at the comforter on the bed.

“Like that?” He says into her ear.

“Yes, fuck.” She bucks her hips up to grind against his fingers easier. He pulls them out and she whines.

“Would you relax, I was just gonna flip you over.”

“Oh.” She blushes and rolls onto her stomach. Harry yanks to her to her knees, and slides his fingers back in. Ariel sighs with relief.

“There we go.” He rubs his other hand up her back, and scratches back down before giving her ass a smack. He squeezes the supple flesh and leaves his hand there as he continues to work his fingers in and out of her.

“Oh, oh! Right there!” She gasps and starts rubbing her clit.

“M’I hitting it?” He grunts.

“Y-yeah, you’re right on it, don’t stop, please!”

She can hear him grunting and groaning behind her. He got so much pleasure making sure she got off, it astounded her. She cries out as she comes around his fingers, and he pulls them out slowly. He rubs her back as she catches her breath, and he sucks her slick off his fingers.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, thanks.” She turns onto her side. “Wanna hit it from the side?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him, and he chuckles.

“Sure, if that’s how you want it.”

“It is…for now.”

He gets into position, and gets one of her legs over his shoulder. He pushes inside and watch as her mouth falls open. That was always his favorite part. She’d had him so many times at this point, and she still seemed so shocked at how he stretched her out. He rocks in and out of her slowly before really getting a groove going.

“H-Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you like, go behind me, like, we’re both on our sides? Do you know what I mean?”

He nods and pulls out of her so he can lay down behind her on his side. He lifts one of her legs a little so he can slide back inside of her. She hooks one of her arms around his head so she can get her fingers in his hair, and he kisses on her shoulder while his hand presses on her lower tummy. They were grinding against each other in the most perfect way. His fingers start to work her clit and she whines.

“Sensitive?” He asks her.

“Mhm.”

“Fight through it, know you can come again.”

“Need something to bite on.” She pants.

He gets his other arm around her neck so he can get his fingers in his mouth. She moans around them, and her eyes roll back.

“M’not gonna last, Ariel.” He rubs her clit harder, and she just moans louder around his fingers. “I’m gonna have to pull out soon.”

“No! Come inside me!” She shouts around his fingers.

“Fuck!” He cries out as he comes inside her. It pushes her over the edge, and she comes with him, milking him for everything he’s got. She kisses the palm of his hand before he pulls out of her.

“Could you, uh, bring me to the bathroom?” She asks, looking over her shoulder. “I don’t wanna sleep on sticky sheets.”

“Yeah.” He breathes, and scoops her up, bringing her into the bathroom. He sits her down on the toilet, and leaves to give her some privacy. When she comes out, he’s laying in his boxers on the bed.

“What are you doing?” She asks, going to her suitcase to look for her nightshirt.

“Figured we could fuck again in a bit, it’s not like we have to worry about getting up early, right?” He says, not looking up from his phone. “Or did I tucker you out.”

“No, um, we could…we could do it again in a little while.” She knees onto the bed and lays down. “I just need some time to cool down.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

“Harry?” She asks, turning on her side to face him.

“Hm?”

“Do you really loathe me?”

He looks up from his phone at that and turns on his side to face her.

“No…just sort of said it to keep us in the mood.”

“Do you think, like, we keep fighting as an excuse to fuck?”

“No, I mean, I genuinely can’t fucking stand you sometimes and doing this helps.”

“But what happens when one of us meets someone and we can’t just fuck it out?”

“Oh, please.” He scoffs. “Do you have time to meet someone else?”

“No, I’m just saying-“

“Besides that, who’s gonna fuck you better than me? Gimme a break, Ariel.” He laughs and rolls onto his back again, going back to his phone.

“Harry…eventually I’m going to want more than just fucking someone on the down low. I want certain things.”

“Yeah? So do I. You act like I’m going somewhere.”

“I’m…very confused right now.”

“Come here.” He pats his thighs and she shifts to straddle him. He tucks her hair behind her ears, and then pulls her down to kiss him. “You really think I’d like you run off to be with someone else? If that’s what you think, then you’re even crazier than I thought.”

“Harry, you don’t want me, stop messing around.”

“I’m being completely serious. I’ll get you the big house, the white picket fence, we’ll fill it with babies, and then they’ll have a romantic story to think about just like you did with your parents.” He kisses her again. “What’s cuter than mum and dad meeting in the kitchen at work, right? We can leave out the rest.”

“What makes you think that I…that I want any of that with you?” She was trembling.

“Because you wouldn’t have fucked me a second time if you didn’t like me, Ariel.”

“Harry, stop it, you’re gonna make me cry.” Her bottom lip quivers. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know it’s not, I’m not joking around.”

“But I don’t want us…I don’t want us to always be at each other’s throats. I don’t want that to be the only reason there’s a passion between us.”

He caresses her cheek and rub away a stray tear.

“It won’t be like that. I mean, I certainly know how to make you shut the fuck up, but I think we really have this weird connection. Things always get so awkward after we hook up because I think we’re both sort of soft people, and we don’t know if it’s okay to be soft with one another, but…I wanna be soft with you, I think. I want to sleep over, and cuddle, and all that other shit.” She blinks at him. “Do you want all of that…with me?” She nods yes at him. “Alright then, quit your blubbering and come here.” He tugs her down to him all the way so he can hold her properly. “Je t’aime.” He says softly as he strokes her hair.

“Je t’aime aussi.” I love you too.

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi! I'm very curious about something regarding the Spanish language. I'm currently studying A2 Spanish but I had this question and my teacher did not seem too willing to discuss it. Here it goes:

I know that Spanish has, something my Spanish teacher says, linguistic gender. I was wondering how do the people who don't align themselves with the gender binary (masculine and feminine) speak/write in it? I have read this article about Spanish speaking people from US adding "x" Or "@" and people from Argentina using "e" to make the words gender neutral.

Thank you so much for responding, whenever you get to it. Also love your blog. ❤

Short answer, in general speaking terms people are tending towards the -e now because the other two are very hard to actually speak, and because Spanish-speakers feel the -e is more authentic

What you're most likely to see in Spanish is masculine plural as the default, or in written things you might see todos y todas or like un/una alumno/a "a student", or like se busca empleado/a "employees wanted" / "looking for an employee"

If it's something official or academic you typically include both [todas y todas] or you go masculine plural [todos] unless it's specifically feminine plural

-

Related, linguistic gender applies to all things, not just people. Why is la mesa "table" feminine, but el libro "book" masculine? Just linguistic gender. I can tell you that most loanwords (that aren't people) in Spanish are masculine, and that there are certain words that come from Greek are masculine, and that -ista words are unisex most of the time... And I can tell you there are some words like testigo or modelo that are unisex and don't change for gender. Aside from that, speaking about nouns and grammatical gender... those particular things are harder to parse for regular people, but if you go into the field of linguistics you can explore that more deeply. Some of it is source language (i.e. "it came from Latin this way") or things like that. And in general when talking about nouns it's unimportant and not considered sexist, that's just how it is.

There is such a thing where it gets a little too far the other way and people will say "history? what about herstory" which is a nice thought but the etymology has nothing to do with gender there

When it comes to people - and when it comes to gendered attitudes - that's where it gets more confusing and more complicated.

I believe there was an experiment where people had French and Spanish speakers [I believe it was Spanish] try to identify how a "fork" would sound. French people gave it a more feminine voice because "fork" is feminine in French, while Spanish speakers gave it a more masculine voice because it's masculine in Spanish.

Whether we like it or not, certain gendered things do influence our thoughts and feelings and reactions. A similar thing in English exists where the old joke was something like "There was a car accident; a boy is rushed to the ER and the surgeon but the father was killed. When they got to the ER the doctor said 'I can't operate on him, he's my son!'" and it's like "well who could the doctor be?" ...and the doctor is his mother. We associate "doctor" as masculine and "nurse" as feminine.

There's a gender bias in our language thought patterns, even though the language changes. And that does exist in Spanish too, to different extents.

There are certain cultural and gendered stereotypes or connotations attached to certain words, many tend to be more despective or pejorative when it's women.

For example - and I know this has changed in many places or it isn't as prevalent - el jinete "horseman/rider", while the female form is la amazona "horsewoman/rider". Because la jinete or la jineta was sometimes "promiscuous woman".

There were also debates about things like la presidente vs. la presidenta or what the female version of juez should be, whether it should be la juez or la jueza

Most languages with gendered language have varying degrees of this, and all languages I'm aware of have gendered stereotypes related to professions or cultural attitudes in some way, and not just for women, and not all in the same way with some of them being very culturally based

-

The longer answer involves a bit of history, and I'll be honest, some of it is contested or considered a little controversial in Spanish-speaking countries particularly in the conservative parts (which honestly should come as no surprise)

The first symbol that I know of that came about was the X

First piece of contested history: As far as I know, it was the trans/queer and drag communities in Latin America who started the trend of X. When there were signs or bulletins that had the gendered endings - specifically masculine plural as the default plural - people would write a big X through the O. This was a way of being inclusive and also a very smash the patriarchy move.

Some people attribute this to women's rights activists which may also be true, but a good portion of the things I read from people say it was the trans/queer/drag communities in Latin America doing this.

I've also read it originated in Brazil with Portuguese; still Latin America, but not a Spanish-speaking country.

Where it's most contested is that some people will say that this trend started in the Hispanic communities of the United States. And - not without reason - people are upset that this is perceived as a very gringo movement.

That's why Latinx is considered a very American-Hispanic experience

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The arroba (@) is relatively new. I remember seeing it in the 2000s. I don't know if it existed earlier for gender inclusivity.

People used it because it looks like a combination of O and A, so it was meant to be cut down on saying things like todos y todas or niños y niñas in informal written speech

I remember quite a few (informal) emails starting like hola tod@s or muy buenas a tod@s or things like that

I think of it more as convenience especially in the information age where you never knew who you were talking to and it's easier than including both words, especially when masculine plural might be clumsy or insensitive

Still, it's practically impossible to use the @ in spoken Spanish, so it's better for writing casually. You also likely won't be allowed to use the @ in anything academic, but in chatrooms, blogs, or forums it's an option

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I love the E ending. And the gender neutral form in singular is elle... so it's él "he", ella "she", and elle "they (singular)"

The -e ending is I think became more common within the past 10 years though it might have existed longer than that. These sorts of changes tend to come from the queer or trans communities and tend to be more insular before becoming more of an outside thing that then the general population finds out about

It came about because there are some adjectives in Spanish that end in -e that are unisex. It's not an A, it's not an O, but it's something grammatically neutral for Spanish

It's not as awkward as X, and E exists very firmly in Spanish so it's not perceived as some outside (typically gringo) influence

The good news is, it's pretty widespread on the internet. Not so much in person (yet), but especially in Spain and Argentina at least from what I've seen, particularly in the queer communities and online culture.

The only issues with it are that for non-native speakers, you have to get used to any spelling changes. Like amigo and amiga, but to use the E ending you have to add a U... so it's amigue.

That's because there are certain words where you have to do spelling changes to preserve the sound; gue has a hard G sound like -go does [like guerra]... but ge has the equivalent of an English H sound [gelatina for example]. Another one is cómico/a "funny" which would go to cómique. Again, because co has a hard C/K sound, while ce is a soft sound more like an S or in some contexts TH/Z sound; like centro is a soft sound, while cola is a hard sound

Unless you make it to the preterite forms where you come across like pagué, alcancé, practiqué with those types of endings... or subjunctive forms, pague, alcance, practique ... Basically you'd have to be exposed to those spelling rules or you'd be really confused if you were a total beginner.

It all makes sense when you speak it, but spelling might be harder before you learn those rules

The other drawback is that the E endings are sometimes not applicable. Like in damas y caballeros "ladies and gentlemen" there's not really a gender neutral variation on that, it's all binary there. And while la caballero "female knight" does exist, you'd never see a male variation on dama; the closest I've ever seen is calling a guy a damisela en apuros "damsel in distress" in some contexts where the man needs rescuing, and it's feminine una/la damisela, and it's very tongue-in-cheek

There are also some contexts like jefe vs jefa where I guess you would say jefe for "boss" if you were going the neutral route, but it's a bit weird because it's also the masculine option.

I can't speak for how people might feel about those if they're non-binary or agender because every so often you kind of get forced into the binary whether you like it or not

I totally support the E, I just recognize there are some limitations there and it's quirks of the Spanish language itself

Important Note: Just to reiterate, E endings are the ones most Spanish-speakers prefer because it's easiest to speak and doesn't have the American connotation that X does in some circles

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Where it gets very "Facebook comment section" is that you'll see many Latin Americans traditionalists and conservatives claim that "this is just the gringos colonizing our language" and "grammatical gender doesn't matter in Spanish". They'll say that the "gender movement" is an American feminist movement and that it's a gringo thing and doesn't reflect actual Latin Americans or Spanish-speakers

Which on the one hand, yes, English does have a lot of undue influence on other languages because of colonization, and American influence and meddling in Latin American politics is a big important issue

But as far as I'm aware of the X (and especially the E) were created by Latin Americans

The other issue I personally have is that any time this conversation comes up, someone will say something like somos latinOs and claim that masculine plural is gender neutral

To that I say, first of all, "masculine plural" is inherently gendered. Additionally, there is a gender neutral in Spanish but it's lo or ello and it's only used with "it" so it sounds very unfriendly to use on an actual person... and in plural it looks like masculine plural and everything applies like masculine plural

Second, the reason masculine plural is default is because of machismo. It's more important that we don't possibly misgender a man, so it has to be masculine plural. It's changed in some places, but growing up when I was learning Spanish, if it was 99 women and 1 man you still had to put masculine plural

I'm not opposed to there being a default, and I understand why it's easier to use masculine plural, but some people get very upset at the idea of inclusive language

...

In general, my biggest issues with these comments come when people act like non-binary/queer/trans people don't exist in Spanish-speaking countries, like English invented them somehow. So it's nice to see linguistic self-determination and seeing native speakers using the E endings.

[batboys-batboys]

I’ve recently witnessed some discourse in the fandom in which the OP called Nesta an abuser and offered thoughts on the relationship dynamic she has with her sisters vs with Emerie and Gwyn, the Valkyries she now refers to as sisters. Someone commented on said post and asked when Nesta had abused Elain. There’s inherent bias in this post as I really like Elain’s character in the books but for the purposes of this post only CANON will be referenced.

First off, let me preface this by saying I love Nesta as a character, but I don’t put her on any kind of pedestal for a multitude of reasons. Also, please let me know if you’d like for me to retag this in any particular way as this is my first serious post.

Here we go…

Chapter 17

Silver lined Elain’s eyes, but her voice remained steady, sure. “There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta.”

The words were kindling. Elain had accepted his death as inevitable. She hadn’t bothered to fight for him, as if he hadn’t been worth the effort, precisely as Nesta knew she herself wasn’t worth the effort.

This time, Nesta didn’t stop the power from shining in her eyes; she shook so violently she had to fist her hands. “You tell yourself there’s nothing that could have been done because it’s unbearable to think that you could have saved him, if you’d only deigned to show up a few minutes earlier.” The lie was bitter in her mouth.

It wasn’t Elain’s fault their father had died. No, that was entirely Nesta’s own fault. But if Elain was so determined to root out the good in her, then she’d show her sister how ugly she could be. Let a fraction of this agony rip into her.

This was why Elain had chosen Feyre. This.

Feyre had rescued Elain time and again. But Nesta had sat by, armed only with her viper’s tongue. Sat by while they starved. Sat by when Hybern stole them away and shoved them into the Cauldron. Sat by when Elain had been kidnapped. And when their father had been in Hybern’s grip, she had done nothing, nothing to save him, either. Fear had frozen her, blanketing her mind, and she’d let it do so, let it master her, so that by the time her father’s neck had snapped, it had been too late. And entirely her fault.

Why wouldn’t Elain choose Feyre?

Elain stiffened, but refused to balk from whatever she beheld in Nesta’s gaze. “You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people. “No one but the King of Hybern is to blame for that.” The quaver in her voice belied her firm words.

Nesta knew she’d hit her mark. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t continue. Enough. She had said enough. That fast, the power in her receded, vanishing into smoke on the wind. Leaving only exhaustion weighing her bones, her breath. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Go back to Feyre and your little garden.”

Even during their squabbles in the cottage, fighting over who got clothes or boots or ribbons, it had never been like this. Those fights had been petty, born of misery and discomfort. This was a different beast entirely, from a place as dark as the gloom at the base of the library.

Not the blatant belittlement with that “little garden” comment. Trust me when I say I know intrusive thoughts and that this was early on in Nesta’s mental journey but still. This is her, CANONICALLY, preying on Elain’s emotions about what happened with their father and Hybern. We know that Nesta went through a lot of self-hate in this book but that whole “Let a fraction of this agony rip into her” was uncalled for. Elain went to see her sister, whom she admires and recognizes as her protector, only to get chewed out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that Nesta didn’t want her there but Nesta was unable to control her emotions and consciously sought to hurt Elain with her words. (Not that she’s not hurting/hating herself too I mean just read the underlined part.)

Chapter 21 (sidenote: this chapter needs to be talked more about in the fandom)

Post Nesta refusing to let Elain find the Trove and the “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” moment. (iconic btw)

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?”

“I do,” Elain said coldly. “And I remember Feyre rescuing me.”

For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. “Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

Elain’s eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta’s chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you can think of is what mytrauma did to you.”

Aside from the obvious iconic nature of this whole exchange here we see Nesta yet again hurt and belittle Elain. And yeah, sure, Elain tried to hurt Nesta too here by throwing in that reminder that it was Feyre (and Az) who went into Hybern’s camp and rescued her. But as soon as she did it she went into an apology mode but was cut off as her sister couldn’t stand someone feeling sad for her and needed to remind Elain that she’s a bad person who hurts others. The “interesting at last” comment was a (pardon my French) bitch move. There, I said it.

Nesta knew just which words to use to beat down her younger sister who’d always looked up to her, and she didn’t hesitate to use them. She knew which words would hurt her and she said them. Elain shot back here though and reminded Nesta that her trauma with being captured by the Cauldron is her own and no one can shoulder that for her. And that despite this trauma, she’s willing to risk herself to find the Trove and face the magic that took her choices away.

Anyways, I just wanted to shed some light on some scenes that I think a lot of readers and participants of the acotar tumblr fandom glossed over. These were, coincidentally, 2 of the few times Elain showed up in ACOSF. I mean, given the fandom’s warring views on Elain as a character it’s not shocking people would gloss over her and Nesta’s interactions (even though she who knows more about Nesta than anyone else).

I guess I’ll close this by saying that Nesta is not a perfect character. And, admittedly, these scenes did happen in the first half of the book. However, just because Nesta battled her mental health and overcame a lot of challenges, it doesn’t erase the fact that she hurt Elain with her words. She preyed on her younger sister’s love for her and (to my recollection) did not apologize for the way she treated her. Nesta’s an interesting character and so is Elain. Elain is a huge part of the acotar story/world, whether you like it or not.