#running and then the same quote arranged in a circle around it. and then there are a million options for trc honestly

[moreaujeans]

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[iamthenightcolormeblack]

Impressions of Bride and Prejudice (2004)

I finally watched this movie as it is currently free on YouTube! It's a really interesting "modern-day" adaptation (specifically a Bollywood musical) of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice which takes place in Amritsar, India, London, England and California, USA instead of the English countryside. It stars Aishwarya Rai as Elizabeth Bennet (now Lalita Bakshi) and Martin Henderson as Mr. Darcy (William Darcy).

Names:

Bakshis = Bennets

Jaya Bakshi = Jane Bennet

Lalita Bakshi = Elizabeth Bennet

Maya Bakshi = Mary Bennet

Lakhi Bakshi = Lydia Bennet (Kitty isn't included here)

Kholi Saab = Mr. Collins

Balraj = Bingley

Chandra Lamba = Charlotte Lucas

Kiran = Caroline Bingley

Darcy's mother (Catherine Darcy) = Lady Catherine de Bourgh

The Casting:

Aishwarya Rai as Lalita Bakshi. She's captivating and beautiful as Lalita, with intelligence and wits to match. The film understands why Elizabeth Bennet is one of literature's greatest heroines: she has a lot of self-respect, speaks her mind, and refuses to compromise on her values. What's most important is that she achieves the balance between the two clashing cultures: she cares about her family and respects Indian traditions yet is also a strong individual who keeps her dignity.

Martin Henderson as William Darcy. I don't like that Darcy is an American in this movie because (in general) Americans are usually less reserved than British people, so it takes away a key part of Darcy's character (his repressed emotions). He's much more sympathetic than book Darcy because he seems to be more open-minded towards Indian culture the more he learns about it (unlike book Darcy, who is stubborn and insists that his "good opinion once lost is lost forever"). In the book, Darcy's pride has several characteristics (belief in the correctness of his opinions, belief in his social superiority, bad treatment of others he thinks is beneath him). I don't like how the film simplified his pride into imperialism/ethnocentrism, which he lets go of pretty quickly. Plus his "rudeness" can easily be perceived as discomfort in a new cultural environment because he hasn't been exposed to Indian culture, whereas in the book it seems to be intentional (and Darcy acknowledges to Elizabeth that he was taught to treat others beyond his own social circle meanly). Overall I had rather too much sympathy for him because he's too easy to read; he's experiencing a lot of culture shocks which he isn't prepared for, and his imperialistic beliefs (which come from his mother) don't help. One of the reasons book Darcy is interesting is because he's mysterious; his emotions remain hidden and the only sign of his growing love for Elizabeth is his staring at her. This Darcy is just a typical white American boy who is in love with a woman far superior to him in terms of intellect and cultural awareness.

Nitin Ganatra as Kohli Saab. Mr. Collins is one of my favorite cringe characters ever and never fails to disappoint. In this movie, he's an accountant who lives in the Beverly Hills area in Southern California and is very arrogant because he thinks he's a big shot living close to celebrities in a one-of-a-kind colonial home (when in actuality he lives in a cookie-cutter house in a suburb). He peppers his speech with Western slang to show off how "American" (and thus wealthy) he is, yet still clings to outmoded beliefs that women should be submissive housewives. He represents the very worst of Western culture in that he's materialistic and looks down on Indian culture as beneath him. In his quest for riches he has lost his Indian identity and become greedy.

Notable Scenes:

The first dance. Balraj is happy to have fun and show off his awesome dancing skills. Darcy, meanwhile, observes that the mothers are eyeing Balraj for the marriage market and is worried that his friend may be trapped by gold-diggers. He's clearly uncomfortable and out of his element here, so Kiran helps translate the songs for him. It's interesting seeing Kiran as a translator here because it would explain why she's one of the few people Darcy hangs out with; she's a cultural intermediary here to help him acclimate to a strange new environment.

Darcy snubs Lalita. This part in the book where Darcy insults Elizabeth by proclaiming her "tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me" is significant in forming Elizabeth's hatred of Darcy. Not only is he impolite in refusing to dance with Elizabeth, he also shames her by criticizing her looks. In the movie, Darcy excuses himself from dancing with Lalita by saying that he's busy preparing for a conference (in this version, he's a rich businessman who operates luxury hotels). I wish they had kept the original insult in because without it, Lalita's dislike of Darcy has less merit. While it was impolite of him to not dance, he did use a proper excuse and didn't insult Lalita, so unlike in the book, it doesn't make sense why she would hate him so intensely after that one meeting.

A Marriage Has Come to Town song. In this song-and-dance number, Lalita and Jaya are preparing for the wedding to Balraj. The whole town is excited for the wedding and Lalita wonders if life for a woman is all about getting married to be a mere wife: "It seems they had nothing in their lives before today / and why are they so happy to give a daughter away."

Darcy and Lalita conversation #1: Lalita points out most Amritsar residents can't afford to stay at Darcy's luxury hotels; Darcy says standards are necessary, justifying the high price. Darcy says he finds arranged marriages strange and "backwards," hinting at an affinity with Lalita as they are both "romantics." Lalita, still thinking that Darcy is attempting to insult Indian culture, says that arranged marriages have evolved and may not be so evil as he thinks it is.

Lalita and Darcy "accomplished woman" scene. So they have the part from the book where they have Darcy's unrealistic list of the characteristics of his perfect woman and then it becomes a culture clash. Lalita says Darcy's whole hotel business is imperialism (the tourists visit without appreciating Indian culture and the jobs created only benefit the well-off). Darcy replies: "But I'm not British" ("American exceptionalism" is just another form of imperialism).

Dinner with Kohli Saab. I love watching all the "Dinner with Mr. Collins" scenes from all Pride and Prejudice adaptations because it reveals Collins' great arrogance in assuming himself to be of greater importance than he is, as well as his bad manners. This movie does not disappoint; Kohli Saab literally eats with his fingers, shoving rice into his mouth while talking at the same time. Meanwhile, he spews out misogynistic views of women, stating that he came to India to find a "traditional" wife who will serve and obey him; after all, there is "no life without wife." He notes that the Indian-American girls have "a conceited sort of independence" (not what he actually said in the movie, this is a quote from the book which really fits here) and that some of the Indian-American girls "have turned into the lesbian." Lalita later recalls that watching Kohli Saab eat is like observing "a Jackson Pollock painting."

"No Life Without Wife" song. An accurate reading of Kholi Saab: he's "crude and loud" and came to find a wife by flashing his "green card, new house, and big cash." The song reveals what a hypocrite he is; he's lonely and pathetic because there is "no life without wife" yet he won't respect his wife as his equal. I love the "Kohliwood" fantasy sequence where Lalita pictures herself unhappily serving Kohli as a submissive wife. After the song ends Lalita imagines herself marrying Wickham in the English countryside before it turns out Darcy is the groom; she runs away from him.

The Cobra dance. Maya shows off her dancing skills in an awkward dance. Kholi criticizes Indians for being "unsophisticated" (what an arrogant person) while Darcy, in a change of heart, praises how highly they value family.

Kholi's proposal. I love how he tries to train himself to power walk because it's trendy and before proposing stretches himself clumsily, knocking over a pot (he definitely isn't husband material). Lalita mocks Kholi's obsession with physical health, pointing out that many people are physically healthy but don't exercise their minds.

Visiting Kiran. Kiran is arrogant and takes the Bakshis over to her fancy apartment where the mother tries and fails to show some cultural knowledge. I find it interesting that the movie made Lalita and Kiran foils of each other. They are both intelligent women who are "multicultural" in that they can navigate both Indian and Western culture, but they use their cultural knowledge in different ways. Kiran uses it to belittle others and demonstrate her own superiority, while Lalita uses it as a means of gaining respect for herself and others.

Darcy ends up on the same airplane flight as Lalita. This is a cute scene where he gives the first class seat to Mrs. Bakshi just so he can sit with Lalita in economy class (he's totally in love with her!).

Kohli Saab's epic house tour. Love how he pays great attention to the jet tubs and the closets.

Meeting Darcy's mom. She's totally ethnocentric and possibly racist. The first thing she asks Lalita is "tell me about India" and she expresses her disappointment at Darcy's decision (because of Lalita, it's so obvious he's in love) not to buy the hotel in India because "everybody has their hand on India these days" (brings to mind spheres of influence/colonialism since the mother sees India as a place to make a profit). Then the mother reveals that she really isn't interested in India and only knows about its stereotypes: "well, with yoga, and spices, and...wonderful Eastern things here there's no point in traveling there anymore." Meanwhile Lalita retorts that "people haven't stopped going to Italy because Pizza Hut's around the corner."

The first proposal. Darcy's conflicted feelings for Lalita are effectively summed up (perhaps better than in the book, where he begins well but ends with a long account of the inferiority of Elizabeth's connections): "he loves her in spite of the fact that he tried to forget about her, he still wants to marry her in spite of the fact that his family (specifically his mom) will disapprove." Unfortunately, the emphasis on the social inferiority of Lalita's family is left out; Darcy doesn't say anything else until Lalita claims that he thinks her family is inferior and blames him for separating Jaya and Balraj. I don't like this because it seems like the separation of Jaya and Balraj was the only reason Elizabeth rejected Darcy. Also Elizabeth's admission that she did try to overlook her prejudice of Darcy doesn't make sense, because only after the first proposal does she do so.

Plot Changes. The major plot points are all included but the "order of events" has changed:

Lalita and Darcy become friends and she meets his family before his disastrous first proposal. There's a montage where they are traveling alone together, visiting the Grand Canyon and sharing a moment on the beach. I don't like this change because Darcy's separating Jane and Bingley wasn't the only reason Elizabeth rejected him, it was because she hated him (arrogant, proud, doesn't treat others nicely). By showing early on that Darcy is a good person, Lalita's prejudice against Darcy makes less sense because she now has a glimpse of Darcy's true character which in the book doesn't happen until the Pemberley visit.

Their early friendship disrupts Darcy's character journey because it reduces the significance of the first proposal to his character development. In the book, he doesn't start to reform himself until Elizabeth tells him that he needs to behave in a "more gentleman-like manner."

The first proposal is the consequence of all the miscommunication and false perceptions affecting Elizabeth and Darcy, and it motivates both characters to change. Elizabeth rightly scolds Darcy for being inconsiderate; he did the proposal for the selfish reason of purging his feelings so that he wouldn't have to suffer anymore and assumed that she would say yes. Elizabeth rejects him because of his rude manners and lack of consideration, and his defensiveness (where he portrays himself as the victim of feelings and implies he's such a good boy for wanting to marry her in spite of her horrid family) doesn't help. After realizing the extent to which Elizabeth hates him, Darcy writes The Letter to set things right, and Elizabeth realizes that she is not the best judge of character. Thus, giving us a fuller picture of Darcy's character and letting him charm Lalita before the first proposal reduces the significance of the event to the plot and character development.

Wickham and Lakhi have a connection early on, making Lakhi's attempted elopement inevitable. Right after the failed first proposal, Lakhi runs off with Wickham and Lalita and Darcy find out about it at the same time that Darcy comes to apologize and tell Lalita that Wickham is bad. I love that Wickham was punished really badly; after Darcy fights him, he gets slapped twice, once by Lalita and the second time by Lakhi. Even better is that Lakhi doesn't end up with Wickham.

Themes

The film uses the culture clash between India (Eastern) and Western cultures to examine what makes a good marriage.

Indian culture as presented by the film is more collectivist ("we" over "I"). It also promotes traditional gender roles, with women expected to be "meek and submissive" wives. In contrast, Western culture in the film is more individualistic and aspirational (careers and love are possible). But at its worst it condones exploitation of others for profit and cultural intolerance.

In the book, there are different kinds of "culture clashes:" traditional nobility versus new money (the Bingleys made their fortune in trade and Caroline is hoping to be an accomplished woman to make up for this), country versus city (Darcy offending Mrs. Bennet by claiming that the society is "confined and unvarying") and arranged versus romantic marriages.

The misunderstandings that propel the story (Darcy's dismissing of Elizabeth as "tolerable," him falling in love with her even though she still hates him, her belief in the legitimacy of "first impressions") are emphasized through the culture clash. Many of the conflicts in the film are a result of cultural stereotypes and conflicting beliefs.

Interestingly the film doesn't resolve the question it raises of how best to appreciate India and its culture. Lalita raises a lot of points about not oversimplifying Indian culture to a few stereotypes, but one could argue that India as represented by the film might be stereotypical. With the exception of the resort scenes and Goa beaches (which are tourist traps according to the film), the scenes in India heavily emphasize the "developing country" aspects of India with lots of pastoral scenes (cows crossing the road unharmed, farmland, dirt, shacks, dirty motorcycles fighting each other in traffic). Plus the "culture" as represented by the film's dance sequences seems to be the dominant Hindu culture with lots of elephants and saris and curry. Yes, I know this film is a romantic comedy, but the assertion that India is a complex, diverse country is contradicted by what we are presented. Presenting the rustic aspects of India would explain why the characters want to get out of India and go to the richer Western nations, but it harms the premise of the story that we shouldn't judge based on first impressions because the India scenes seem to confirm a Westerner's stereotypes of India (exotic people living in a primitive land).

Changing views on marriage: In the film, as in the book, we are presented with traditional and modern views on what makes a good marriage. Mr. Collins' marriage represents the traditional view in which marriage is a practical "economic proposition," much like a business deal where the marriage is made for the securing of material wealth and happiness comes last. Lady Catherine and other members of the aristocracy view marriage as a means of producing heirs (and bringing large amounts of money through dowries) to keep the property (source of power and wealth) in the family. The modern view of marriage is a partnership of equals who love and respect each other; happiness rather than material wealth/power is the priority. It threatens the power of the traditional nobles as it provides the potential for social climbing. Finally, it becomes another part of the culture clash, as it also ties in with the Western value of individualism, putting it at odds with the more collectivist Indian culture as presented by the film.

Elizabeth and Darcy in the book and in the film are united by their belief in a marriage based on love (the modern view). In the film, Darcy says he wants to look forward to starting each day with his wife, while Lalita says she wants a man who is a romantic and respects her for her mind. For instance, Elizabeth states that "only the deepest love will induce me into matrimony" and that Jane and Bingley should have some time to get to know each other before being rushed into marriage. To Elizabeth, mutual love and respect are essential for a marriage to succeed.

As for book Darcy, when Caroline catches him admiring Elizabeth and asks if he will marry her right away, he jokingly rebuffs her for making that assumption: "A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy." Significantly, he mentions love needing to come before marriage, hinting that he shares the same belief about respect (admiration) and love being necessary for a good marriage. In fact, a big reason he separated Jane from Bingley was because he feared that Jane did not love Bingley in return. In short, love in marriage is just as important to Darcy as it is to Elizabeth.

Conclusion:

Bride and Prejudice, as shown by the title, focuses heavily on the theme of marriage and uses the culture clash between India and the West to emphasize the importance of first impressions in our treatment of others.

Even if you aren't into Pride and Prejudice, the movie is worth watching for the Bollywood dance sequences. I also liked the songs because they effectively developed the marriage theme.

The characters are mostly true to the book, except for Darcy, who isn't proud enough and is quick to reform his character.

Last but not least, the real villains of the story were imperialism and ethnocentrism.

Tags: @thatvermilionflycatcher @appleinducedsleep @princesssarisa

[nightswithkookmin]

RE: JUNGKOOK CHANGED IN RUN

Anon:

Why did Jungkook not want to be on Jimin's team in the last run episode? He has changed a lot from before. Thoughts.

My first thought is, you don't gotta interpret everything in a negative light.

Not every strong reaction is a bad reaction.

I'd be a phony ass fraud if I sat here and told you with my two thumbs that I didn't raise a brow at that moment. I did.

Especially when you contrast that episode with run 112 which falls on all fours with this current situation- ok may not all fours.

But in that video, like many others, RM had suggested they form teams based on the sunglasses they wore, just as he had suggested they form teams based on the seating arrangements.

Of course he'd meant it as a Joke just as we discussed in a previous blog post. Personally, I expected they make a draw, rock papers or even dance in circles like they did in the other episode to decide who got who in the competition.

But it seems in all the times he's been paired with JM he's been supper thrilled about it. He even warned the members not to underestimate him and JM when they'd unanimously concluded they were the disadvantaged team in the game- Jin not even bothering to ask them what their scores were on Korean.

He reset the timer to 10 seconds when Jk pointed out he wasn't good at reading fast

When the time stopped and they were asked to make a team of four, he turned to find JM almost immediately as if to make sure JM was part of the four, he held on to his arm to prevent RM from breaking the link.

He was supposed to pair with Yoongi and Jimin with Tae but he didn't even try to find Suga. At least V did try to find Jimin. He moved towards JM and when he realized JK was hugging him he went for Suga.

Throughout the episode he was giving JM tips on how to cheat and shot when he wasn't sure of the answers.

Yet in the last run, he didn't seem as enthusiastic about being paired with JM- or so, he'd have us believe. Smirk.

He ain't slick. Lol.

To me he seemed, on the surface of it, either really salty about the others having Jin or RM on their teams or upon reflection, just plain ass overcompensating for something.

I'd go with the later.

It's similar to how, Jimin got the Sauna card and he'd complained about not liking the Sauna but then swapped cards with Tae so he could be on JM's team.

Or how he'd make a theatrical show of wanting to win a competition but smirk satisfactorily to himself when he loses.

I really don't think it's a big deal.

Personally, I love watching them paired up and doing such activities. It's a great way to see how they work together as partners and as a team.

It's also a great way for them to spend time with eachother, enjoy eachother, nurture their bond and strengthen their relationship.

Fanservice or not, scripted or not, you cannot deny that spending time together doing activities together is good for building a relationship.

They spend a considerable about of time together off cameras but a lot of their time is spent on cameras and at work.

They gotta find a way to make their relationship work on the work as I keep saying. All that 'fanservice' people say they are doing? That's them making it work. They gotta find a way to go on dates, feed eachother, hold each other's hands, tell Jokes, laugh at eachother's jokes, express their attraction for each other, flirt, share eachother's interests and do things couples do without inviting public scrutiny to their every interaction and invasion of their privacy.

So where they see an opportunity they go for it. For JK it's the the little decisions he makes on their behalf like choosing where they will sleep, what activities they can do together, wanting the bigger room, making sure JM wins the presidential suite, or choosing a room detached from the other rooms.

He invests in his relationship the best way he can. Same goes for Jimin.

I keep saying this whole fanservice culture is a win win situation for them- for even any queer idol couple in the same band.

What seem like a challenge could technically be an opportunity for a date for them without dispatch breathing down their necks.

A typical example would be this. Jimin said he wanted to go get Yoga with the others but ended up going with YoonKook on their brewery excursion.

The more time they spend together, on and off cameras the more closer they get and the more they get to know eachother on a deeper level.

But you have to bare in mind, they need their personal spaces too in order for their relationship to function properly.

Jimin used can be very needy in his relationship but for the most part he enjoys his independence too.

Jk has always had a strong sense of independence but he can equally be quote needy and over attached once he is in a relationship- especially when things are going great for him.

Spending time apart, persuing personal goals and interest is good for them.

If it helps, think of moments when they hang around eachother as Jikook dates and when they hang quietly in the background of videos do think of those as them having their me times at work...

Would they miss an opportunity to 'date' or hang privately with eachother? I don't think so.

It's in their dicks interests and the interest of whole production team and crew to allow them to be around eachother as often and as much as they want and can.

I for one, I'm not prepared to sit through yet another excruciating episode of Jungkook wanting Jimin- physically and emotionally. I'm still dealing with the PTSD from the last BonV four episodes.

Y'all buy me Ko-fi please. I don't intend to sit through that shit sober.

If Jk is pushing to be on JM's team and what not it's mostly because he feels he needs to spend more time with him. If he's not pushing for that it just means he or they are both allowing for space and room in their relationship for eachother to pursue other activities and interests or even connect with other members- unless of course they are having relationship problems which I don't think is the case.

Jimin is particularly good at this.

He goes out of his way to nurture his relationship with the others even on set.

He does this especially with Tae.

He'd take Tae to go see places he and JK had already been to, he'd request to take pirate rides with Tae- even though JK is available and won't hesitate to let him know, he often make plans involving Tae or even the others- in Soop when Tae asked him to go ride around the town with him he chose to stay and manspread on Jin and Yoongi. *I'm cackling. Lmho.

Jimin is a funny guy.

Now does this mean he doesn't like spending time with Tae or that he's changed? Hell no.

Hell, Tae does the same thing from time to time too. I mean when he found out he had picked a Sauna card he asked to swap it knowing very well Jimin had picked that card too. Soulmates coulda soulmated that shit in hot piles of steamy.

Sure JK lurks around sometimes. He is the resident intruder stepping on Jimin's other ships' neck. Love him for this. Lol.

Perfect Disney villian.

Tae had to drag his ass away from the kitchen for intruding when he and JM were cooking in the Kitchen. Let's not talk about him physically removing him from JM's car or all the times he's complained about JK raining on his Vmin agenda.

When V wanted to be on a team with JM this man literally sabotaged him, hugging Jimin first. It's his laughter afterwards for me. Lmho.

V needs to insure his Jimin cos at this point it's trademark infringement. Hashtag soulmates. Lololol.

Jk needs to go ahead and free Vmin.

But JM does this too, in much more subtle ways- I'll never forget the look he had on his face when he had to get off the bus and walk home as punishment. It was the most heart breaking thing I ever seen.

Then he had to hang off Hobi to get JK to leave his friends and come to him.

It's why I used an ellipsis the last time I talked about Jimin being very mature now. Old Jimin would have, clapped back, made JK pay for that outburst if he genuinely thought JK meant what he said or believed JK really wanted to be on a team with someone else.

Y'all don't see him when JK compliments other people? He stays kicking his feet under the table🤣🤣🤣🤣

I used to pinch a gurl I liked when other gals talked to her when I was little- In my defense, I didn't even know I liked her or that it was straight up abuse💀

Jimin can be pretty scary and petty when he's mad or offended.

If it helps you sleep at might, think of this moment as just another one of those 'we've been a unit for so long do you wanna be with someone else now' scene from February last year.

Jk answered yes when JM asked him that. But do you really think he meant it?

Jikook is complex, not complicated.

They love eachother.

We can't be looking at their interactions as either or. Grey areas exist and it's not a negative thing.

Signed,

GOLDY

[nurgletwh]

If you do decide you want prompts in the end — I adore the way you write Ogrim and Quirrel interacting, and something fluffy from their younger days could be fun!

Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid

- - -

Summary

Ogrim is handed an assignment in theoretical diplomacy and practical investigation, recruiting his best friend for assistance.

- - -

This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, although it set approximately fifteen years before the Hollow Knight is Sealed in the Black Egg Temple (rather than the in-game time that the other works are currently set in). This is complete and utter silliness with a side of nonsense, but it technically canon for my universe. xD

- - -

Ogrim

- - -

Ogrim snickers as he walks down the hallway through the White Palace. This is going to be fun. The Pale King had given him a faint smile when Ogrim had laughed at the assignment, and stated that he expected his orders to be followed implicitly.

Snickering again, he rounds a corner and heads out across a courtyard. He grins and waves at the two guards on duty, who nod back as he passes by. Reaching the other side, he crosses another hallway and heads through an archway to head down the sweeping stairs circling a fountain. He beams as he catches sight of Isma, waving when she notices him bounding down the stairs.

He diverts from his intended destination to greet her. She’s on duty, so he nods as he steps up beside her.

She smiles back as she finishes up her current discussion, and he waves at Lorial as they take their leave.

“Alright, spill it. What has you grinning like a fool?” she asks him with a smirk.

“I have an assignment. From the king!”

She turns to face him, one hand on her hip, the other on her chin as she gives him a mock once-over.

“That generally isn’t a cause for glee,” she says. “Frustration, yes. Curiosity, yes. Dread, frequently. Are you certain you are feeling well?”

She steps over and places a hand against his cheek. “You don’t seem to be running a fever.”

Ogrim chuckles as she stretches up to look into his eyes. “Your eyes might have a little extra gleam, but I diagnose mischief and not illness.”

He laughs and captures her hand for a moment, squeezing gently before releasing it. “Ah, Isma! The glee is not only due to the assignment, but also because of what it is, who it is for, and whom I am going to rope into helping.”

She snorts. “This should be entertaining. I’ll bite, who’s it for and what are you going to be doing?”

He pulls a folded letter out of his armor with a broad grin. “The Pale King has, and I quote, ‘no clue’ what Lord Furzkopf is trying to locate. I can only imagine how many questions he had to ask; see for yourself!”

Isma shakes her head as she takes the letter, and he smiles, bouncing on his feet as he waits for her to get to the best parts.

He sees her eyes widen, and she gasps, “No!”

“Oh, yes!” he says, knowing she has only made it about halfway through.

She snorts, and jams her hand against her mouth as her eyes crinkle up in glee. He watches as her shoulders start shaking, and she finally bursts out laughing as she reaches the end.

“Stars above, Ogrim! Are you certain the Pale King didn’t know exactly what he was trying to get Lord Furzkopf to describe!?” she laughs.

He shakes his head. “I am not! That makes it so much more exquisitely wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, gods, Ogrim. I don’t know which to hope for. Lord Furzkopf is an ass and this?” She waves the letter back and forth. “Knowing he had to describe this in such particular detail is a joy unto itself. Because you just know, whether the Pale King knew what was being described or not, he would have taken these notes with exactly the same intensity.” She grins at him. “Lord Furzkopf would have no way to know for sure if it was sincere ignorance, and I’m sure our king just kept asking in that deeply focused way he has.”

She starts snickering. “Not that I didn’t already know who you were going to be grabbing to help from the bounce in your step, but for once I completely agree. This is right up his alley, and one should always consult with the appropriate experts.”

“I am glad we are in agreement!” Ogrim laughs, and Isma smiles at him as it echoes around the fountain courtyard.

Her eyes crinkle and she captures his claw in her hand, squeezing lightly as she says, “Enjoy your assignment, I’ll see you this evening.”

He takes the letter as she hands it back, touching her face lightly with his claw before stepping back to give her a small bow. “As always, my lady,” he says softly.

She scoffs, but he sees the faint flush of white as she turns away, and smiles.

Time to go find his victim… er, partner.

- - -

Ogrim strides through the barracks, grinning widely. It’s late enough in the afternoon that the second shift is waking up, and he watches bleary-eyed guards stumbling around as they try and get enough stimulants into their systems to begin functioning for their day.

He knocks on one of the doors towards the end of a hallway, eliciting a quiet groan and “Go ’way!” from within.

He chuckles and knocks again, eliciting further incoherent mumbles. Figuring he’s given plenty of warning, he opens the door and walks in with a bright “Good morning!” as he heads for the window.

“Gods, Ogrim, what do you wa—don’t you f—argh!!” comes from the bed as he gets to the window and opens the blinds.

Turning towards the bed, Ogrim is greeted with, “You ass!” and he laughs.

“No, my friend!” he says, as he heads towards the bed. “This makes me an ass!” he says as he grabs a corner of the top blanket and yanks it away, uncovering the bugs hidden beneath.

The larger of the two bugs ducks and hides against the pillbug, who puts his arm over them as he glares blearily at Ogrim.

Ogrim smiles and retreats to lean against the desk. “How’d you get Galien out of here? He seems fundamentally incapable of condoning transgressions.”

“Ugh; you would be correct. I found him a date of his own, that’s how.”

Ogrim snorts. “Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult.”

Quirrel sighs, hugging his bedmate and whispering something to them. They relax, but don’t uncurl from their position of hiding.

“No, not particularly. It was more a matter of getting things moving along in such a way that he wouldn’t be here, which meant arranging for Delian’s roommate to be somewhere else, which meant… you get the idea, I’m sure,” Quirrel says.

“I most certainly do,” Ogrim chuckles. “You can be quite determined to entertain your companions. How on earth do you manage not to get caught?”

The companion in question flinches, and Quirrel says, “Technically, we just got caught, didn’t we?”

“True enough! However, in the grand tradition that has existed for centuries, since I am not your direct superior or even their direct superior, I don’t actually have to cope with this particular aspect of your shenanigans.”

Quirrel snorts, getting up onto one elbow and then leaning over his companion again, whispering to them. They shake their head, and he chuckles softly as he kisses their cheek and hums quietly. Pushing himself up and over, he deftly snags the blanket back and throws it over them, once again hiding them as he stands up.

“And for what glorious reason am I being subjected to your over-cheerful presence?” Quirrel asks.

“Ahhh, that’s the joy! Although the orders are to be kept quiet, so I’ll meet you in the commissary in five minutes, and we can head back to one of the offices from there.” Ogrim snickers. “It was lovely seeing your carapace, Miranda.”

The lump under the blanket twitches, and she throws the blanket back to glare at him.

Smiling at her, Ogrim sketches a small bow as Quirrel glances at the ceiling and shakes his head.

Ogrim stands up, calling back as he leaves the room, “Five minutes! Don’t be late!”

- - -

Having located a small empty conference room, Ogrim holds the letter aloft. “We are to locate a missing possession, as requested by the Pale King.”

Quirrel looks at the letter dubiously. “The Pale King has lost something, and – out of all the available options –” he waves his hand around in a vague circle, “he asked you?”

Ogrim shakes his head with a snort. “No. A visitor has lost something, claims it has been stolen.”

“I’m still stuck at the Pale King having asked you.”

“My heart weeps at your lack of faith!”

“Ogrim, the Pale King has at his disposal the entirety of the Guards, including the Investigators. Your job, last I looked, was to beat shit up, not find shit.”

Ogrim chuckles. “Ah, but you see, this visitor has requested… let me think… how was it put.” Ogrim thinks for a moment before continuing, “requested ‘the utmost delicacy and discretion regarding the item that was lost.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms and give Ogrim a flat look. “Now I am definitely calling stagshit. Unless the Pale King has suddenly become feeble-minded and forgetful?”

“My friend! I am hurt – nay, wounded – that you would question my ability to be quiet and careful!”

“…right.”

Quirrel ducks forward, snatches the letter, and opens it to start reading.

After a few seconds Quirrel asks, “So who is this theoretical illustrious guest that has not only managed to lose this whatever, but has the clout, courage, or outright idiocy to actually ask the king to be personally involved in the hunt for a thief or – far more likely, knowing most of the nobility – find it wherever they… uh…”

He stumbles into silence, and Ogrim starts grinning.

Quirrel boggles at the letter, bringing his other hand up to feel it and no doubt check to make sure it is real. He flips it over and looks at the back, then goes back to staring at what has been written.

He finally looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes.

“Nice forgery. There is absolutely no way that you of all people were asked to investigate this as a favor requiring ‘discretion and delicacy.’”

“I assure you; it is quite real! And I was specifically requested by the Pale King to investigate this in ‘my usual thorough fashion.’”

Quirrel crosses his arms as he stares at Ogrim. “You. He requested you.” Ogrim beams. “My friend, you are a wonderful person, but you don’t have a single fiber of discretion anywhere within you. Every single rumor in this place makes it to you, through you, and is redistributed by you with extreme glee. Everyone knows this. The Pale King holds himself above most things, but he is not unobservant; he is, in fact, quite the opposite. This is not something he doesn’t know. And you are trying to tell me he specifically requested you to find this!?”

“Yep!”

“Does he know you are recruiting me?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel stares at him in silence, and Ogrim smirks back; he was right – this is fun!

“…I suppose the only person I could ask to get confirmation of the assignment is the Pale King?”

“Yep!”

Quirrel slaps the letter against the middle of Ogrim’s chest with a groan, and Ogrim grunts as he grabs it. Most definitely fun!

“Who asked for this help?”

Ogrim grins broadly. “Lord Furzkopf.”

Quirrel stares at him, his whole posture lighting up with unholy glee as the situation finally sinks in.

“You don’t say,” he murmurs.

“Oh, I most certainly do.”

“Utmost discretion,” he purrs.

“Indeed.”

“As provided by one of the Great Knights themselves.”

“You are now seeing the picture!”

Quirrel laughs. “I am indeed, my friend; I am indeed!” He points at the letter and asks, “We get to go interview the victim, I hope?”

“Last I knew, the proper investigative protocol involves verifying the witness statement by any investigator taking over the lead on an investigation.”

“Wonderful. It is a lovely day to be a horrible investigator, is it not?”

“It has turned into one,” Ogrim snickers as he grabs Quirrel’s shoulder. “I trust you can ask the appropriate questions and not giggle? Because there is no way I will make it through this interview.”

Laughing, Quirrel grabs the letter again. “My friend, if Lord Furzkopf stammered through this description of his ‘enhancement aid’ as awkwardly as this letter indicates, while the Pale King laughed his metaphorical ass off behind the guise of a sincere desire to properly ensure his investigators can find the item in question? I am going to assume I have implicit permission to bring the full force of what I am so well known for to bear, in the same way that your discretion is implicitly understood.”

“It is good to see you understand what the Pale King desires from this investigation! Shall we go find Lord Furzkopf?”

Grinning, Quirrel nods as he hands the letter back. Ogrim tucks the letter into his armor and heads out the door, Quirrel following behind.

- - -

They find the Lord in question lounging in one of the gardens, entertaining himself by attempting to… flirt with one of the gardeners working nearby. She looks up and meets Ogrim’s eyes with a pained expression. He nods at her as he says, “You’re excused for now, Gaiea. We need to speak with Lord Furzkopf privately.”

“Yes, of course,” she says as she dumps her tools haphazardly into her bucket.

Lord Furzkopf sputters as she stands. “Now just wait a minute! We were having a friendly discussion and we weren’t done; you can’t just interrupt like that!”

Quirrel steps around Ogrim’s side, breaking into Furzkopf’s line of sight to Gaiea as he says, “We are here regarding your missing figurine?” He turns and blasts a charming smile at Gaiea, who has just stuffed her rags over the top of her tools and is ready to flee. “I’m certain she would love to stay here with you and offer comfort.”

Ogrim sees her grip the handle of the bucket and worries that she is ready to chuck it at his friend. Quirrel turns a little further – making sure Furzkopf can’t see – and starts to sign something Ogrim can’t see either.

Furzkopf shakes his head and says, “Figurine?”

Gaiea relaxes as Quirrel signs, so Ogrim turns to Furzkopf and says, “Yes, the one you reported missing to the Pale King. We have some questions about the descri��”

“Oh!! That figurine, yes, quite so! No, my dear, no need to fuss about this, I’ll be simply fine; don’t you worry!”

Ogrim turns back to see Gaiea shake her head, and Quirrel turns to speak to Furzkopf again. “Are you certain? I can see how losing such a precious item would be hard to bear, how you might need a hand to hold in your time of need. Ogrim can go ask—”

“I am absolutely certain that I can remain… strong during these trying times, there is no need to go to all of this fuss! She may go!”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, and turns back to Gaiea to bow slightly as he says, “Your time will not be required today, thank you for your enduring patience.”

She scoffs quietly and returns the bow before fleeing down the path.

Quirrel waits until she’s disappeared around one of the trees before turning back to Furzkopf. He holds his hand out to Ogrim as he says, “I just have a few questions about your descriptions.”

Ogrim pulls the letter out and hands it over.

“Are you certain that there is suitable privacy here?” Furzkopf asks, his voice quavering.

Quirrel looks around, startled. “You didn’t seem to think there would be an issue in what you were suggesting Gaiea do for you, I don’t see how this is any different. This is fairly secluded, as you were mentioning.”

Ogrim almost snickers, but catches himself. Quirrel had heard what the ass had been suggesting; good. Ogrim had been planning on making sure that she didn’t need to work anywhere near this end of the palace for the rest of the week – and he still will – but getting Quirrel worked up would generate additional solutions that were usually far more entertaining.

What Ogrim can do is make sure the White Lady is aware she needs to temporarily double or triple the garden staff, so that the seclusion is no longer available.

“I… suppose, if you are confident we won’t be interrupted?”

Quirrel shrugs and gestures around vaguely without saying anything.

“Go ahead then.”

“As you wish,” Quirrel says, unfolding the letter. “From your description, this novelty figurine is made from gold, onyx, and emerald?”

“I made it very clear what the materials were when describing it, I don’t know why you need to be asking me this again!”

“It’s standard procedure, my lord. Please bear with me, I know it can be quite hard. From these notes, I understand that it’s about this long?” Quirrel asks as he holds his hands a little ways apart.

“Not quite, well, more like this,” and Furzkopf holds his hands apart, but much closer together – although they keep wavering about, refusing to settle on a specific distance.

“Ahhh, ok, I’ll note that then. Accuracy is important.”

“I’m sure, quite sure, yes.”

Quirrel skims down the notes again, tapping his finger near the bottom of the letter. “Is this a downward or upward version?”

“…I am quite sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Quirrel looks up at Furzkopf, innocently puzzled. “Do you put it in upwards or downwards?”

“This isn’t… it doesn’t go into me anywhere!”

Ogrim nearly gasps, trying to keep from laughing. He grabs his claws together behind his back, and stares off into the trees just over Quirrel’s head. He knew he had chosen the right bug for the job.

“Really?” Quirrel looks back at the letter. “This description is fairly straightforward for a standard model. Barring the materials involved, I don’t see anything particularly special about it.”

Lord Furzkopf stares at Quirrel, speechless.

“You have the hinged version, which I must say is a wyrm to keep clean – honestly, I’m impressed by your dedication on that front – and the little protrusions are definitely a bonus in my experience—” Quirrel has taken to moving his hands as he describes the… novelty figurine in question, demonstrating the various… options he is describing “—but being made from metal and stone means that it will stay cold for quite a while. Which in itself can be quite pleasurable, but… well, that’s a whole different topic, of course.” He looks up and smiles at Furzkopf, holding his hand out slightly, palm up.

“Of course,” Furzkopf whispers.

“Regardless, I suppose whether it goes upwards—” Quirrel curls his fingers up and then tweaks his wrist to rock them forward as Furzkopf watches, stunned, “—or downward—” Furzkopf whimpers as Quirrel rotates his hand and curls his fingers again, providing another helpful demonstration, “—doesn’t matter so much as we search. Hmmm. Where was the last place you saw it?”

“Ahhh, that would be in my rooms of course,” he says faintly.

Quirrel skims the letter and nods. “You wouldn’t have happened to take it with you while visiting Vashnia?”

Ogrim looks at Quirrel. That wasn’t in the letter. He knew Furzkopf was doing his level best to get into Vashnia’s bed, but in addition to his naturally repellant personality, he continued to harass anything that moved in an attempt to get it to move on him. Last he knew, Vashnia wouldn’t do much more than taunt him.

Quirrel is assiduously reading the note, as if the answer to his questions were present somewhere within. Which they are not, because Ogrim has re-read the note several times in absolute amazement.

“…I perhaps may have happened to have it in my robes when she suggested we have drinks, to show her, you know, simply as an amusement of course.”

Quirrel nods, “Of course, as one does.”

“Yes! As one does, certainly there was nothing meant by it at all!”

“Well, it obviously means something, or we wouldn’t be here having this conversation, would we?” Quirrel says, looking up and smiling brightly.

“No, of course not… I mean yes, it does!”

“Right! Thank you for your time, Lord Furzkopf. I believe we have enough information to get a firm grasp on the situation. We will be sure to keep you updated of any changes or progress. Have a nice day!”

“Yes, of course, please do that,” Furzkopf replies weakly.

Absolutely positive he won’t be able to say anything without laughing, Ogrim simply nods his head at Furzkopf, and follows Quirrel out of the gardens.

- - -

“I’m going to shove his novelty figurine into him sideways,” Quirrel growls once they are out of earshot.

Ogrim grabs his shoulder and shoves him into one of the sheds, wedging the door shut behind him.

“No, you will not.”

Quirrel glares at him, crossing his arms.

“Vashnia knows how to handle creeps like him, she’s been doing it for years. He’s making a fool of himself.”

Quirrel snorts. “And Gaiea?”

Ogrim gives him a tight smile. “The White Lady will have a report of my observations by the end of today. I know she’s been lightly monitoring him; it won’t be so light after this.”

“Good.”

He stares at Ogrim for several moments before grinning. “I know where his blasted novelty figurine is, by the way.”

Ogrim laughs, and grabs his shoulder. “I was wondering! I take it Vashnia has it?”

Quirrel nods with a snicker. “Miranda is her cousin, and has been staying with her the last few weeks. Vashnia has taken to spiking his drinks and then flirting with him shamelessly.” He gestures back towards the gardens with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the side-effect of that frustration seems to be an increase in his harassment of others. My guess is that the White Lady missed it simply because it’s only stepped up in the last two or so days. Your report may not surprise her all that much, to be honest. Her staff seem quite comfortable reporting up to their supervisors, it may just have been the normal delay of bureaucracy in inaction.”

Ogrim scoffs. “That doesn’t help Gaiea much.”

Quirrel grins wickedly. “Gaiea was armed with trowels, at least two pruning shears, a turning fork, and a trimming saw. Two of those items you never saw, because she had tucked them into her shell when he started getting suggestive. She’s strong, she’s fast, and volunteered to be the one in his presence today. If he’d done more than talk – which is all he’s ever done, according to Miranda – he would have been missing parts faster than you or I could see.”

Ogrim stares at him.

“My friend, never piss off a gardener. They have tools and chemicals, and are not afraid to use them.”

Ogrim shakes his head. “Duly noted.”

Quirrel snickers. “Let’s go talk to Vashnia and see what her plans were for this… toy, because I’m guessing it’s far more entertaining than anything either of us could come up with.”

Grinning, Ogrim follows his friend out of the shed and into the palace.

- - -

Several days later, an interesting novelty figurine was found in the hallway outside of Lord Furzkopf’s door, laying as if dropped from the pocket of a robe.

The cleaning staff considerately placed it on a towel and gave it to the serving staff, who placed on his tray as they brought him breakfast, lying beside his fork and knife.

- - -

Do a Google Translate on Furzkopf. ;-)

[addercharmer]

When Izumi wraps her arms around his bicep Hizashi is a little startled, he knows he's a cryer, and maybe he should have tried to keep it under control better.

"Please don't cry!" The little girl begs him which makes him cry harder thinking about a three year old trying to comfort him.

He hears Izumi take a deep breath, and then she's singing an unfamiliar song in English. The words are somewhere between heart breaking and resigned, Hizashi is so confused on how this little girl can get those feelings across.

By the time she's stopped singing Hizashi has stopped crying and he knows his face shows his wonder and confusion. He's pretty sure the others are looking at her the same but Hizashi can't drag his eyes off his daughter.

"That was very pretty." Tsukauchi says, his voice sounds a little choked up, he must not have heard Izumi sing before just then.

"You sing very well, Izumi-chan." Shōta speaks, Hizashi can tell his throat is tight with emotion.

"Mmmm." Izumi hums at them as her cheeks pink a little but doesn't seem to believe either of the men.

Hizashi struggles a little but he really wants to talk to this tiny human, he takes a large gulp of his cooling tea before asking softly. "Do you like music?"

Izumi's eyes are open now and looking right at him, close up he can see that she has darker green spirals in her iris, they are almost unnoticeable in like his own darker green rings around his pupil.

"Un, a nice grandma that lived by Inko taught me lots of old old English songs." Izumi tells him brightly. "They taste good, songs that have lots of feelings taste good."

Hizashi furrows his eyebrows, asking. "Taste good?" He looks at Shōta quickly before focusing back on Izumi.

"Uh huh, that song tastes salty but with a lot of slow spice. Like some words I say taste different." Izumi says, Hizashi doesn't understand but he wonders if it's her quirk showing early.

"I don't taste music." Hizashi tells Izumi as he arranges his expression into a pout. "If I sing do you still taste the words?"

Izumi shakes her head, her green hair bouncing with the force and pouting, and Hizashi can see himself in every line of her plush lips, almond eyes, and button nose. He also sees little bits of Shōta in her high cheekbones, wild hair, and defined jaw.

Sometime during the short conversation Izumi had let go of him and backed out of his personal space, Hizashi kind of just wanted to pull her back in and hold on.

They hold eye contact, Izumi doesn't seem to find his eyes weird like many other children and it relaxes Hizashi just a smidge.

"Why are you here if you don't want me?" Izumi asks, her voice is so even and unbothered Hizashi had to struggle not to start crying again. "Or are you here to take me to the orphanage?"

Shōta takes a deep breath at the first question, the second has him releasing it like he's been sucker punched in the guts.

"Children are a big responsibility." Shōta is trying to say something but Hizashi doesn't know what.

"Uh huh. But I take care of myself, I can get a job and everything, I just want a place to live, you don't have to be re-spon-sa-ble for me." Izumi cuts him off, shaking her head.

"I'm sure you are very responsible." Shōta says.

Hizashi is sure Shōta has a point even though he's going in circles.

"If you come live with us, your only job will to be a kid." Shōta tells her. "Do you know what our jobs are?" He then asks as an afterthought.

Izumi shakes her head, Hizashi isn't all that surprised.

"I'm an underground hero." Shōta tells her and nudges Hizashi a little.

"I'm the hero Present Mic, I also just started a radio podcast, hopefully soon a radio show." Hizashi says with a smile.

Izumi's eyes are wide, and then she goes on to quote in the closest her high soprano can. "Hey, listeners. It's Present Mic signing on."

"Yes, exactly." Hizashi says half dazed that Izumi listens to his show.

"Ah." Izumi gives a short sound of understanding. "That's why you don't want me, you're too busy." She says this like it's the answer to all life's questions as she nods slowly.

"No!" Hizashi yelps at the same time Shōta says it firmly.

"No." Shōta says again. "We just want you to understand our jobs are dangerous, and it's likely we will get hurt. That's not something you should see." He tries to explain.

"But, I have seen people hurt." Izumi starts her argument and Hizashi feels his stomach drop. "Hisashi used to bring men home, and Inko made me help fix them before I had to clean up the blood."

Hizashi feels like he's going to vomit.

"I can do stitches really good now." Izumi informs them.

"That's not what I mean, Izumi." Shōta says, Hizashi can tell Izumi is at the end of her patients.

"Then what do you mean, do you want me or not, stop trying to make me feel better, and just tell me!" Izumi finally breaks, instead of trying to be calm.

"Stop trying to give me something and take it away at the same time!" Tsukauchi is trying to unearth himself from cats and pillows to get to where Izumi is standing.

"YES OR NO!" She screams loud enough to almost rival Hizashi using his quirk before she turns and runs from the cafe leaving three stupified men behind.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tsukauchi all but roars at Shōta. "This is why I didn't want you to meet her unless you were going to take her! You can't fucking use logic on a three year old!"

Tsukauchi takes a deep breath then calmly adds. "She's right, figure out your answer 'yes or no' you have the week, that's as long as I can give you. I have broken protocol to not put her in a foster home, I can't push it off much longer."

Hizashi sees the resignation in the detective's face, sees how attached the man had become to her, sees his anger at the two of them and he understands.

"Shouldn't you go after her?" Shōta asks, he sounds angry but Hizashi can't tell if it's at Tsukauchi or himself.

"No, Sansa has been parked outside the entire time, but I am leaving." Tsukauchi's words are clipped, then without offering a 'goodbye' he's striding out the door.

"Fuck." He hears Shōta swear but he's looking out the window to watch as the detective walks across the street.

[rina-writes]

The Dress

A/N: The friend!reader consoling Ethan reminded me of this drabble I had in my drafts of Ethan comforting gf!reader when feeling insecure.  Kinda short, but I think it’s cute :D  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual references (at the end), insecure!reader

You chewed on your lower lip as you stood on line for the register.  You picked up the velvet, green dress that was draped over your right arm with your left hand to pull it into view.

“Are you sure it looked good?” You asked your best friend who was standing next to you, sending a quick text.

“Yes!” She said, with a laugh. “100 times yes.  I think it will look great for the red carpet.”

“It’s not really a red carpet.” You argued, your eyes still analyzing the dress.  “It’s more of like a gala.  Think the turn of the 20th century, where aristocrats would be invited to a new exhibit at the museum. Everyone would wear their best, strolling through the galleries with a glass of champagne in hand, occasionally nibbling on the hors d'oeuvres being passed around on delicate, silver trays.”

Your best friend paused and a little smirk formed on her lips.  “Your boyfriend hired you to do the PR his event again?”

You laughed. “Is it that obvious it’s my idea?” You smiled to yourself.

The Dolan Twins were huge fans of “putting people on,” so to speak.  If someone in their circle had a knack for something, they employed them to do it.  It wasn’t only that Ethan trusted your creative direction, but he AND Grayson thought your ideas were a great fit for their event.  Just like any other person who would organize an 100+ scale event, they paid you very well to do it. So, there was a lot of pressure to make this the best launch celebration ever.  

To be honest, you knew you nailed it.  You just couldn’t help, but feel like you didn’t fit your own event.  You weren’t a big YouTuber or a celebrity or anything remotely famous.  Your relationship with Ethan was on the DL, so you didn’t even feel pressure to keep up a certain image.  Unlike the boys, you definitely had a “whenever I feel like it” work out regimen and a “whatever taste good” kind of diet. You did try to eat relatively healthy and at least move during the day, but it wasn’t enough to maintain a Instagram-worth physique.

Which brings us back to the dress in your hand that you were now about to purchase...for quite a bit of money.  The dress fit the aesthetic of your event: an off the shoulder dress with a sweetheart neckline that dipped down the center of your chest, with long sleeves that started at the top of your arm and ended at your wrist.  The velvet material hugged your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and stopped just about your knees.  The dress was classic, and one that you could wear again and again...if you had the confidence.  Your best friend hyped you up in the dressing room, but you hated the way your stomach looked in it. But, your best friend looked so disappointed that you didn’t like it.  Not because she particularly liked the dress, but because she knew your distaste for the dress was about your feelings towards you body.

“We’ll jack you up.” Your best friend said with a wink as you put the dress in the trunk.  She had been watching quite a bit of “Say Yes to The Dress Atlanta” lately and often quoted Monty and Lori.  “The party is tomorrow so, let’s continue our glam day where we just relax and pamper ourselves.  Then tomorrow, I’ll help you get dressed.”

“Thanks, Y/F/N,” You smiled softly, getting into the passenger seat of her car and buckling your seat belt. 

“Trust me, Ethan is going to love it.” Your best friend assured as she backed out of the parking spot.

But, what if I don’t.... You thought, but bit your tongue.  You didn’t want to make a big deal about it anymore.

The night of the event, you were buzzing around like a bee.  You loved the rush of making sure everything was going right, and the even bigger surge of energy when something was going wrong. 

The setting was perfect.  Each fragrance had it’s own gallery with a video clip on loop that showed the natural inspiration for the fragrance.  There were testimonies from the twins about the fragrances written on plaques placed beside the display of the fragrance bottles.  There were also several stations in the gallery to try the fragrance and pick up goodie bags.

You had successful ensured that all food was labeled for vegan, non-vegan, vegetarian, kosher, halal, and marked for allergies.  You also did your best to inform the wait staff of who had specific dietary restrictions to know to go to them with the options they could eat first before opening it to the rest of the floor.  

You had even ensured that the photographers got people when they came in through the door and let people know about the photo booth in the back.  

This was going to be your event to top.  Once people knew that you organized it, your office was going to be full with requests. But if there was anyone you wanted to impress, it was Ethan.  

And he was.  Ethan walked in, his hair styled neatly, his body clad in a black tailored suit with a white button down and a red tie.  Grayson, also wore a similar tailored suit and a white button down, but he opted for a green tie.  They intended to do the twin thing, and unintentionally did the Christmas color thing...but they could roll with it. When Ethan saw you, his jaw dropped.  He had never seen you like this before.  For one thing, everyone was running up to you with different issues. You kept a pleasant smile on your face as you calmed people down and told them what to do.  You made it look easy.  Then there was the dress...oof.  It was like he was seeing your curves for the first time.  He felt like he would need to holler at you all over again.

“Gray, quick, switch ties with me.” Ethan said, slapping his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

“No, green is my favorite color.” Grayson said, narrowing his eyes. “I’m also not doing this in the middle of our event.”

“Green’s my favorite color now too.” Ethan said, gesturing to you talking to one of the wait staff.

The green velvet dress looked amazing on your complexion. You had taken the green elements into other parts of your outfit as well as part of your best friend’s “jacking up.” Your hair was decorated with faux emerald and cubic zirconia hair pieces (because this dress already cost you a fortune).  You were wearing black pumps, but they had green bottoms that your friend helped you dye yourself.  You were also wearing a mix of green and silver jewelry including dangling earrings and a bracelet.  Ethan made a mental note to get you a watch for your birthday, one that could go with this dress and any other dress you decided to grace him with in the future.

“Oh wow...” Grayson said, trying not to oogle his brother’s girlfriend.  “Okay, you win. Take my tie...”

Grayson removed his tie and Ethan did the same.  If you had turned around and seen them, it would have been comical.  It was like they were racing to see who could tie a tie the fastest and they were both losing.  Finally, they both looked decent enough to mingle.  Ethan walked straight towards you.

“Excuse me, miss?” Ethan said, licking his lips as he spoke to you. 

You looked up from the table you were re-arranging and smiled softly. This was one of your favorite bits. When Ethan pretended to not know you and ask you out again.  It was funny because Ethan was Mr. Slow and Steady when going into a relationship.  He never just hollered at a girl, he always became her friend, got to know her and then finally asked her out. It made this all the more fun to act out.

“I just wanted to say that I think you are the most beautiful woman in the room.”  Ethan rolled his hands and licked his lips flirtatiously. “And, if you don’t have a man, I’d be happy to apply for the position. If you do, I hope you don’t mind us doing this quietly.”

You laughed, and placed a hand on his chest. “Babe, stop.”

Your hand ran along his tie and you smiled.  You loved how you two always unintentionally matched...completely unaware of how much effort Ethan put in to do it.

“Alright, I’ll control myself.” He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek. 

“Ethan...” You blushed. “People are staring.”

“They already were.” He leaned back and smiled at you. “Got to let them know you’re mine.”

Ethan gave your side a squeeze, resisting from giving your butt a little slap, before stepping back.  “This event looks amazing, Y/N.  I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you!” You exclaimed.  “Your product lent itself to this design.  I am even wearing one of your scents now.”

“I know...” He grinned. “...it’s one of my favorites because I made it with you in mind.”

You were about to say something cheesy when someone walked up to Ethan.  He introduced them as someone from their management team.  You waved, at them, and then paused, suddenly remembering what you were wearing.  Your hands danced between covering your stomach and your chest, and you constantly looked at your reflection in one of the dark windows behind them.  Your focus on your appearance made it hard to join the conversation.  You answered most questions curtly and in a quiet voice.  

When you interacted with the catering staff and your team, you weren’t nervous.  They had seen you come into the office in sweatpants and coffee stains on your shirt on multiple occasions.  You didn’t have to pretend for them. They knew you were good at your job and what you wore didn’t matter.

For Ethan’s colleagues, you felt more pressure.  Although the public didn’t know about your relationship, most people in the twins’ circle knew he was dating someone.  Eventually, someone would tell someone else that the girl in the green dress was Ethan’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t help, but worry about how that would reflect on Ethan. 

Ethan was surprised to see you clam up like this.  This wasn’t like you normally, and it definitely wasn’t like you a few moments earlier.  At first he thought it was just because you were caught off guard. It wasn’t until the third person he introduced you to did he notice that something was up.

“Baby,” Ethan whispered in your ear as the person excused themself. “Come with me for a second.”

Ethan laced his fingers in yours and pulled you to the back of the galleria where there was a back room used to house the extra supplies like toilet paper and tools.

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked, once he was sure you were both alone and the door was closed.

“Yeah!” You smiled, thinking he was the one worried. “Everyone loves the launch, Ethan! It’s going well.”

“Not the event,” Ethan said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you toward him.  “I mean you.  You’re not acting like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, putting your hands on his shoulders.  “I’m fine.”

“You’re acting all shy and awkward.” He rested his forehead on yours. “You only do that when something is bothering you.”

“No I don’t.” You argued in a monotone voice.

The silence was awkward and bone chilling.  Ethan just stared at you until you cracked. 

“It’s the dress...” You admitted with a sigh. “I look like a whale.”

“Wait what?” Ethan asked, almost yelling.” Are you nuts? Y/N, baby, you look amazing.  I’ve been planning to pull you in here and plow you in this dress. I am holding back everything inside of me right now...how could you say that?”

You blushed. “It’s my stomach.” You backed up so you could show him the outline of your stomach. Your hands then went to the neckline of the dress.  “And this is cut in such a weird spot.”

“Your stomach looks fine, I didn’t even notice it. And your tits look amazing in that weird spot.” Ethan used air quotes when he said weird spot.  His hands then immediately went to your lower back to pull you closer to him.

“I just don’t feel like this dress is right for me.” You sighed again.

“Why?” Ethan asked, running hands up your sides. “Because this dress looks so amazing on you, I almost don’t want to take it off. Almost...”

You smiled softly. “I dunno...it just doesn’t look right. Maybe I should work out or something....”

“I mean if you want.” Ethan kissed your forehead. “Or you can change what you see in your mind.  Everyone here is impressed with you.   They want to hear more about you and book you for their events. I’m sure they’d ask if you didn’t seem so...out of it.”

You seemed unsure so Ethan continued, “Hey, I’ve even heard compliments on your dress.  I can’t change what you think of yourself, but I want to help you to love yourself the way I love you.”

“I love you too, E.” You sighed, “You really think it looks good?”

“Yes.” Ethan nodded so quickly you thought his head would roll off.

“Thank you.” You said, looking down at yourself.  Suddenly, your stomach didn’t look that big and your boobs did look pretty nice.  You realized, it wasn’t the dress. It was the whole being Ethan’s girlfriend thing that threw you off.  

“I guess, I just felt like this was the kind of dress that someone like you would like to see your girlfriend in.” You said, still looking down.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Yes, hence why I like seeing you, my girlfriend, in this dress.”

“I know, it’s just sometimes I feel like there is Ethan Dolan’s girlfriend...this image i have in my head.” You paused. “And then there’s me.  Which sometimes is a different image.”

“Well guess what...” Ethan kissed your cheek. “That image in my head is always you.  So, whatever we have to do to match up the images in your head, I’m ready to do it together.”

“Aww, E...” You kissed him softly and he deepened the kiss.

His hands roamed from your shoulders to your backside, giving your body little squeezes. As the kiss got sloppier, you realized that Ethan wasn’t going to be satisfied by a little frenching.

“Quickie before we go back out?” You suggested, breaking the kiss.  

You walked over to one of the shelves and put your hands on top of it. You turned so your butt was up and facing Ethan, one of his favorite positions.

“Yes ma’am,” He smirked, unbuckling his belt as he walked over.

“But make sure you don’t ruin my dress.” You said, looking back at him with a wink.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry. (There eventually be smut, but this part is mostly fluff.)

You had been seeing each other for about three weeks. You still couldn’t believe you had agreed to meeting someone on a blind date. But you were so sick of the online dating scene, so when your good friend Niall from work told you he had a single friend, you jumped at the chance.

He didn’t have any social media, there was an Instagram with his name, but no photos of him. Only pictures he had taken. He was a photographer, and a good one at that. Niall had roomed with him during their undergrad, and stayed mates after graduation. You had wondered why he never mentioned this single friend before.

“Well, after your last break up, I honestly didn’t think you’d ever want to look at another man.” He shyly told you in the break room one day.

It was true, your last break up was a really bad one. It was barely even a break up though because you two were barely dating. You had sex with him rather quick, and after him blowing you off two separate times, he ended things over a text. This sent you into a rather depressive episode. You vowed to not jump into bed with a guy quite so quickly ever again, even if you really wanted to.

You begged Niall to see a picture of him, but he said no. You tried to snoop around Niall’s Facebook page, but you couldn’t be certain of who he was. All you knew was his name: Harry Styles. Niall wouldn’t even give you his number to arrange the date.

“I’ll set everything up for the both of ya, and if it goes well then you can both take it from there.”

You were happy to have a best friend at work. Your days would be boring without each other.  You and Niall were two of the younger people in your office, and you both felt it was necessary to stick together.

“What are you doing this Saturday night?” He asked you Wednesday morning, handing you a coffee. You each took turns buying coffee for the other. Today was his turn.

“Um, I think I was just going to binge watch something on Netflix. Why?”

“Harry was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner.”

“Oh he was?” You raise an eyebrow, and take a sip of your coffee.

“Yes, well I nudged him a little, but I’ve told him a lot about you and he’s very interested.” You blush at the thought.

“Well, I’m definitely free for dinner. Where was he thinking?”

“You’re both vegetarian, well, he’s a vegan actually, but he knows of this really great tapas place that has a lot of meatless options.”

“Wow, vegan. I like tapas so that works for me. What time?”

“Seven. I’ll text you the name of the place so you can look it up.”

“Thanks, this should be fun.” You smile at your friend.

Friday night after work, you decide to do a little shopping. After researching the restaurant, you knew you needed something a little nicer to wear, and you didn’t feel like anything in your closet would make a lasting impression. You drove out to the mall, cursing at yourself for not just going Saturday morning. The parking was crazy, and it felt like everyone and their brother was there. You stumbled into the Macy’s and looked around at their cocktail dresses. You wanted something to accentuate your best features, but also wanted to leave a little mystery. You settle on a basic, black dress. It was form fitting, and hugged just above the midpoint of your thighs. It had short, capped sleeves, and the neckline came just high enough to cover most of your cleavage. It was perfect. You knew you had shoes to match at home, so you didn’t waste any more time at the mall.

Saturday morning, you scrolled through countless hair and makeup tutorials on YouTube trying to find the one that suited you most. After getting frustrated, you settled on your go to hair style. You curled your hair, and waited a couple of hours to brush it out. You then had perfect waves, which almost looked natural. About an hour before you needed to leave, you put your makeup on. You decided to go with a subtle purple to make your green eyes pop, and swept some liquid eye liner over it. You contoured your face (something you had gotten quite good at), and then put your new black dress on. Happy with your appearance, you slide on some purple some nude, strappy heels, and headed out.

As you got closer to the restaurant, you grew nervous. You texted Niall to tell him it was silly you’d be walking into a place, looking for someone you had never met. He asked you what you were wearing, and he would tell Harry to look for you. But what if you got there first? What if he never shows up? How dare he! You thought. You shook the thought from your head and drove up to the restaurant. You circled around back where the parking was. You smoothed out your dress, praying it hadn’t wrinkled, before you walked in. Taking a deep breath, you looked around.

The place was even nicer in person. There was a really big bar, and the dining area looked so elegant. He must do well for himself if he likes this place. Before the hostess could greet you, you saw a somewhat familiar face walking towards you, but you couldn’t place where you had seen him before.

“(y/n)?” He asked.

“Um, yeah, are you Harry?”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” He puts an awkward hand out to shake, and you take it just as awkwardly. “That was weird.” He says in a laugh. “I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to hug you.” You runs a hand through his hair.

“No, no, it was very polite. It’s nice to meet you too. You found me pretty quick.” You smiled at him.

“Niall had just texted me explaining what you were wearing. I happened to look up, and there you were.” He smiled back. That smile…you just remembered him.

“Did you happen to go to Niall’s holiday party last year?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Um, yeah. Were you there too?”

“Yes, I was gonna say you looked familiar. I don’t think we properly spoke to each other there.”

“Definitely not, I would’ve remembered you if we had.” You feel your cheeks flush and let out a simple laugh. “Well, our table should be ready. Let me check with the hostess.”

Harry walks over to the woman, who hands two menus to one of the waiters. He says you can follow him. Harry gestures to let you go first. You wondered if it was so he could check you out, but he didn’t seem like the type. He looked so handsome. His hair was short, but not too short that you couldn’t make out his curls. His eyes were green like yours, and he was wearing a pair of blue dress pants with a white button up shirt.

As you both sat down at your table for two, you noticed his nails were painted. How you didn’t notice earlier when you shook his hand, you weren’t sure. Every other nail was this deep orange, and the other a navy blue. You smiled at it. At least he was the type of guy to take care of his nails. He had a few rings on as well, and you could see a couple of tattoos. You assumed he had a sleeve since you couldn’t see the rest of the anchor on his wrist. After a moment you heard him couch, and you realized you were staring. Your eyes darted up to his.

“Sorry, I was just admiring your, um, rings.” Pointing to the H and S.

“Oh, thanks, they were a gift from my mum a few years back.” His accent was already so intoxicating. Now you figured out how him and Niall got roomed together, they both must’ve been international students. “You were looking at my nails too?” Your face feels hot, and you feel yourself sweat a little. “It’s alright, a lot of people stare.”

“No, it wasn’t staring, necessarily. I was admiring it as well. I think more men should get their nails done. It looks nice. I love getting mine done, see?” You put your hand out, and show him your black nails. “I get the shellac so they last longer, totally worth it.” He smiles at you. “How long have you been painting them for?”

“Oh god, years. I mostly started out with black, but then I got bored with it. I felt like I was only doing that color because it ‘masculine’.” He holds up air quotes at the word. “Then I started experimenting with more vibrant colors. I like doing pink and blue a lot, but this also suits me. Then I started getting creative with the placement of the colors.”

“I’ll do an accent nail once in a while myself, but I do like the style of every other color. Maybe I’ll try it some time.”

“I know it doesn’t look super professional, but since I’m not in an office I can kind of do what I want.” He shrugs.

“Right, you’re a photographer?”

“Mhm. Mostly for, like, outdoors type of things. I really like taking pictures at night. But I’ll also do a little freelance work for people who want a photoshoot. I usually clean up good during the wedding season.”

You got so lost in conversation, you nearly forgot you were at a restaurant. A waitress comes over, frantically, and out of breath.

“Hi folks, so sorry for the wait. We got slammed all at once.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” You beamed at her. Remembering your time in the food service industry.

“Can I start you two off with any drinks?” You look at each other, and he gestures for you to go first.

“Um, could I please have a vodka tonic, with titos, and lime?” He gives you a surprised smirk, probably expecting you to have just ordered a glass of wine.

“Sure thing, and for you sir?”

“I’ll have the same as her, please.” The waitress nods, and walks away.

“I take it that’s your drink?”

“Yeah, I’m not really a wine with dinner kind of gal.” The strange thing was, any time you had wine with dinner, you always got drunk. Vodka, however, you didn’t feel as much. You felt sager having that. “You like vodka too?”

“Once in a while, it tastes good with whatever you eat.”

“We should look at the menu and figure out what dishes we want so it’s easier for her when she comes back. I feel bad she was so out of breath coming over here.”

“Good idea.”

The waitress comes back with your drinks, and takes your order. You both had decides on some flat bread with arugula and goat cheese. It wasn’t vegan, but Harry didn’t mind. You also ordered some roasted cauliflower that came with a dipping sauce.

“How long have you been a vegetarian for?” He asks you, taking a sip of his drink.

“Um, a little over a year. I wouldn’t necessarily call it being a vegetarian, I just don’t eat meat.”

“What made you want to stop eating meat?”

“Well, it just didn’t make me feel good. My doctor also told me to straight up lay off the red meat. I got sick of eating chicken and fish, and if I’m being honest the thought of eating it just started to make me not feel good. I do still enjoy the smell of a fresh steak on the grill.”

“So you did it out of health instead of ethics?”

“Yup. I don’t have much dairy either. I love cheese so I keep that in my diet, but I have up milk a long time ago. I stick to coconut milk mostly if I need my fix. What made you go vegan?”

“Health benefits, I suppose. I was also taking a lot of pictures of animals for this one magazine and it just made it hard to even eat fish. I think it’s been five years now.”

“Good for you, that’s incredible.” You take sip of your drink, and notice the bar tender was a little heavy handed with the vodka.

“So, you met Niall at work right?”

“Mhm.”

“I know what he does there, but what do you do?”

“I’m on our marketing team, with him. He and I tag team a lot of projects. I work more with our digital pieces. I photopshop images, and edit video.”

“What made you go into that?”

“Well, when I was younger I wanted to be a film maker, but I fell in love with marketing, and put the film making on the back burner. I still write now and then for fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say they loved marketing before.”

“Well, it’s not so much the marketing, it’s more how creating the right content can change someone’s point of view.”

A food runner brings your food to your table. You both put your napkins in your laps, and dig in.

“Mmm.” You lick your lips after taking a bit of the flatbread. “This is delicious. Great choice.”

“Thanks, I like coming here, there are just so many options.” You see him pick off most of the goat cheese, and feel a little guilty.

“We didn’t need to get this type of flatbread. I feel terrible you can’t fully enjoy it.”

“It’s no big deal really, I can eat everything else on it.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

The waitress comes over to check on you.

“Can I get you both another drink?”

“I’ll have another, yeah. (y/n)?”

“Um, sure, that would be great.” You promised yourself you’d nurse the next one.

“Tell me about Niall in college, I’m dying to know what he was like.”

“Oh, he was rambunctious. Lad never had any clothes on, then again, neither did I.” You nearly choke on your drink. “I think that’s why we got on so well, neither of us liked wearing more than our trousers.”

“Were you both international students?”

“Yup, but we didn’t room together until our second year. We had met at one of the international student events, and we clicked. They made us room with other students from the states to get a more well-rounded experience.” He shrugs. “I remember this one time he came with me to get a tattoo, and he nearly pissed himself.” He lets out a laugh.

“Niall doesn’t have any tattoos.” You furrow your eyebrows and smile.

“No, he definitely does not. He was being a good mate and came with me when I got my first really big one. I have a butterfly here.” He puts his palm flat just under his breast plate.

“What made you want to get a butterfly?”

“Don’t know, I just like the way they look. They have an odd beauty to them.” You felt like you could listen to him talk all night. But your trance was broken when your waitress brought the check over. She told you no rush, but you knew how these things went. You knew she probably needed to get the table turned soon.

You both reached for the check, but Harry snatched it away. He gave you a “get real” kind of look, took his wallet out, and set his credit card inside the small plastic flap, leaving the check on the edge of the table.

“At least let me pay the tip.”

“Sorry, can’t letcha do that, love. Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me would it?” Did he just call you love? It was something Niall did too, but not until he really got to know you. Maybe Harry’s alcohol was starting to hit him, the way it was hitting you. Maybe he just felt relaxed around you.

“I thought you were more progressive than that?” You said jokingly.

“Oh, I am. But I also abide by the rules that whoever asked who out should pay.”

“Okay, that’s a pretty respectable rule, I’ll give you that.”

The waitress sweeps by the table to grab the credit card, and is back in minutes. Harry takes out some cash from his wallet, and signs the slip of paper.

“Thank you.” You say to him.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles back. “Shall we?” He gets up first, and extends a hand to you to help you up. “Did you park out back?”

“Yup.” You really didn’t want the night to end yet. You look at your watch and it’s only almost nine.

“Great, so did I.”

He walks closely next to you on your wat to the parking lot.

“That’s me.” You point to your car. He walks you over to it, and you lean against your door. “I had a really nice time tonight.” You say looking down at your shoes, then back up at him.

“Me too.” He looks away for second, and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you again. “Would it be alright to ask for your number?”

“Sure.” You reach into your purse and grab your cell phone. You hand it to him. “Feel free to just text yourself.” He smiles, and takes your phone, putting his number in.

“So, I take it you’d like to do this again?”

“Definitely.” He hands you back your phone, and put it back in your purse. In a bold move, you lean forward and give him a slight peck on the cheek. “Talk to you soon.”

You both blush, he smiles and lets out a nervous laugh. He opens your car door for you.

“Have a good rest of your evening.” He says to you.

“Same to you.”

You drive off, feeling your heart flutter. It was the perfect date. You were proud of yourself. Normally would have tried to make out with a man that attractive, but you showed wonderful restraint. You couldn’t wait for him to get in touch with you again.  

[the--blackdahlia]

Campfire Tales Chapter 1

@malibubarbievince @slashscowboyboots @hauntedapricoteggsclam @bitter-13-suite @arianareirg @lucyboytom @julessworld @Solopadawan @stradlin-cold-heartbeaker @catsandacoffee @Kaitieskidmore1 @heavy-metal-fucking-rules @aratbaby @Dufflesmckagan @appetiteforstradlin @acdcmutual

Title: Campfire Tales Chapter 1

Summary:  Guns n' Roses are forced to go camping, so what better way to pass the time than to tell campfire stories?

Warnings: Language, some violence

AN: So, this just kinda happened. Let me know if I should do more.

The fire crackled in front of them as Guns n’ Roses got their blankets from the tents and arranged their sleeping bags. Duff laid down a blanket for him and Stevie to sit on, Izzy grumbling and settling by them. Axl and Slash completed the circle around the fire.

“Who’s got the food?” Slash asked. “I’m starving.”

“Here,” Stevie tossed the bag of goodies to him. It was 90% junk, with some trail mix and granola bars thrown in.

“How’m I supposed to roast these?” Slash looked around as he held up the marshmallows.

“We’re in the woods. Grab a stick.” Axl told him, rolling his eyes. Slash huffed and looked around for a moment, finding the perfect stick so he could make his s’mores. Stevie snuggled up against Duff as he wrapped an arm around her.

“So, what now?” Duff asked.

“Alan just said that we had to go camping so we weren’t a “menace to society”,” Izzy explained, air quotes included. “So I don’t care what we fucking do.”

“Oh! I know!” Stevie said excitedly. “We should tell scary stories!”

“What are we? Teenage girls at a sleepover?” Axl huffed. Stevie glared at him.

“With that hair you might be,” She told him. Axl growled a little.

“Mmpf,” Slash said from his spot.

“Excuse me?” Izzy asked. Slash swallowed the food in his mouth.

“I bet I have the scariest story.”

“Bullshit,” Duff told him. “I’m calling bullshit on that one.”

“Shut up,” Slash argued. “You think yours is so good, you tell us your story.”

“Okay, I will!” Duff sat up straight. “It was a dark and stormy night…”

“Lame!” Axl called out.

“I haven’t even started…”

“It’s still lame,” Axl smirked. “Why don’t I tell you a story that scared the shit out of me when I was a kid?”

“Oh, this should be good,” Izzy chuckled.

“It will be,” Axl stated proudly. “Because I’m going to tell you the Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

****

Fog settled around the small town as the train from Indianapolis stopped in Lafayette. Not many people got off the train there. Just a couple soldiers finally being freed from the Army and heading home from battle, and a lone school teacher who had just missed out on being pulled into war and had dedicated his time to his studies. Jeffrey Isbell, lovingly called Izzy by his few friends, greeted his new home as he stood on the platform of the train station.

“Oh, come on, why the fuck am I Ichabod Crane?”

“Shut up and let me tell the fucking story bitch!”

Quiet by comparison to Indianapolis, Izzy wasn’t sure how to handle his new life. He didn’t have the money to turn around and head back the way he came, and he had been promised a nice job at the new school that was opening up. Grabbing the few bags that he had, he headed into Lafayette. The home that he had been promised by the mayor wasn’t far from the station. The address was hastily written in the letter that finalized the details for his new job.

“This can’t be it…” Izzy mumbled to himself as he looked down the broken path that led to the small, brick home. It looked worse for wear, to say the least, but it was a home. And it was all his. No living in a boarding house for who knew how long. Everything just seemed too good to be true.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Isbell,” A voice said, making Izzy jump. He turned to see a boy, not much younger than him.

“My friends call me Izzy,” Izzy told him. The boy looked around.

“I don’t see many friends around you, but I’ll be your friend!” He beamed at Izzy. “My name’s Slash!”

“Slash?” Izzy asked.

“Well, my real name is Saul, but I got the name Slash because I run around and cut through conversations like a machete slashing through weeds!”

“I see…” Izzy nodded. “And what are you doing here?”

“I tried to take care of the place until Mr. Adler got a new tenant. You must be the schoolteacher he was telling us about.” He walked with Izzy towards the front of the house. “But you don’t look like a schoolteacher.”

“What does a schoolteacher look like?”

“Well, old…” Slash shrugged. “At least the one that Stevie and I had was an old hag.”

“Stevie?” Izzy asked, searching around for a key.

“Stevie’s my best friend!” Slash informed him. “Oh! You need this!” He produced a key from his pocket and handed it to Izzy. Izzy gave him a bit of a look and unlocked the door. Slash stood in the doorway.

“Do you want to come in?” Izzy asked as he looked around. For the most part, the house was pretty clean. And the old furniture that sat in there would do until he could find his own. “Well, uh, thanks for keeping the house clean.”

“You’re welcome,” Slash smiled. “Can I show you around town?”

“Well, sure,” He shrugged. “Where’s a good place to get some beer?”

“Oh, now you’re speaking my language!” Slash smiled. Izzy sat his couple of bags down and followed his new friend into Lafayette. It was a bit busier than he thought it would be, but still quite sleepy compared to Indianapolis.

“There’s not much around here, is there?” Izzy asked, noticing a few shops and churches.

“Not really,” Slash shrugged. “But hey, it’s home.” Izzy nodded but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautiful, blonde woman.

“Who is that?” Izzy asked. Slash looked in the same direction and smiled.

“Oh! That’s Stevie!” His face lit up. “Hey Stevie!” He waved to the girl, who returned the smile and crossed the street in front of some horses.

“Slash!” Stevie hugged him. “It’s so good to see you! Who’s your friend?”

“This is Izzy. We go way back,” Slash told her. “He’s the new school teacher.” Stevie looked him up and down.

“You don’t look anything like a school teacher,” She pointed out.

“That’s what I said!” Slash shook his head. Izzy took Stevie’s hand and kissed it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Izzy told her. Stevie blushed a little before looking towards Slash.

“What are you doing out by the horses anyway?” Slash asked.

“Waiting on my father and Duff to return,” Stevie told him. Izzy raised an eyebrow. “My father is the mayor. And Duff is my fiance.”

“His real name is Michael. He’s one of those weird Irishmen,” Slash explained.

“Wait, your father is Mayor Adler?” Izzy question. Stevie nodded and smiled.

“I’m his only daughter,”

“Spoiled only child you mean,” Slash mumbled under his breath, earning a glare from his friend.

“And if you need someone to show you around, I would be more than happy to do it,” Stevie smiled at him. “But I do have to meet my father and Duff for dinner. Gentlemen.” She nodded and headed back across the street, turning to walk backward. “And Mr. Izzy, I must say you have beautiful handwriting.” She smiled before turning back around and meeting two men from a hunting party.

“What does she mean by that?” Izzy asked.

“It’s well known that Mayor Adler doesn’t write any of his own letters,” Slash shrugged. Izzy watched as a tall blond man offered her his arm and led her into the restaurant. “Come on, the beer isn’t getting any colder and the tavern has better food than that place.” The two headed to the tavern, where the atmosphere was a little more lively than outside had been, which wasn’t saying much. But a few drinks later and some of Slash’s friends had joined them.

“I’m surprised that you even came here with the stories,” Thomas told Izzy as he drained his drink.

“Stories? What stories?” Izzy asked. Thomas, Frank, and Slash all exchanged looks.

“You didn’t tell him?” Frank asked Slash.

“Tell me what?” Izzy was confused. Thomas sighed.

“They say his name was William Bailey…”

“I heard him called William Rose,” Frank interrupted.

“I thought his name was Axl. You know, because of the ax!” Another man named Vincent joined the table.

“Anyway, William was just a young farmhand outside of Lafayette,” Thomas explained as Vincent looked Izzy up and down. “Legend has it that his stepfather went crazy, killed all of them with an ax.”

“I heard that he had it cut off by some Brits during the war,” Frank added.

“I thought he owed money, and because he couldn’t pay, they cut off his head,” Vincent pondered. Thomas glared at the two of them before looking back at Izzy.

“Anyway, he haunts the woods around the town, on his horse as black as night. You better before careful or he’ll,” Thomas made a cutting motion with his thumb across his neck. “Off with your head.”

“You’re kidding me,” Izzy laughed a little. But when no one else returned the laughter, Izzy stopped. “What?”

“He killed my friend a couple of years ago,” Frank told him.

“Everyone knows someone who was killed by Axl Rose,” Vincent added. Izzy shook his head and finished his beer. Slash and Izzy headed back to Izzy’s new home, Izzy offering Slash to stay the night.

“It’s just a legend,” Slash told him. “There’s no proof anyone was killed by the Headless Horseman.”

“Headless Horseman?” Izzy asked. “I thought you said his name was Axl Rose.”

“William Bailey but still, it’s all just a legend. A rumor,” Slash told him. “Anyway, goodnight.” Slash headed to a spare room he would sleep in when working on the house, and Izzy headed towards his room.

Sleep did not come easy for the young school teacher.

The next morning, Izzy headed out to examine his new school, as well as finding himself a horse to use for his travels. As he exited the school, which was going to need some work, he spied the beautiful Stevie.

“Izzy!” She smiled and waved at him. The blond man from the day before stared at Izzy. “How are you adjusting?”

“Just fine,” Izzy told her. “Checking out the new school.” He looked at Stevie’s companion.

“Oh, Izzy, this is my fiance Duff. Duff, this is the new school teacher, Izzy.” Stevie introduced them. Izzy stuck out his hand and Duff looked at it for a moment before shaking it.

“Pleasure.” Duff nodded. “Stevie couldn’t stop talking about that “man from Indianapolis” last night.”

“I did not!” Stevie blushed. Izzy felt his own cheeks heating some, but shook his head to try to make it go away.

“Where could one see about finding a horse?” Izzy asked.

“A farm,” Duff mumbled under his breath. Izzy glared a little, but Stevie’s voice cut through the tension.

“Doc McGhee has some horses he might be able to sell you,” Stevie explained. “Come on. We’ll show you.”

“We will?” Duff asked. Stevie looked up at him. “I mean, of course, we will.” Stevie and Duff led Izzy to Doc McGhee’s place, where there were horses waiting outside for someone to take them home.

“There you are,” Stevie smiled at him. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate.” She laid a hand on Izzy's shoulder for a brief moment before leaving with Duff.

“I’d watch out,” A gruff voice drew in Izzy’s attention. “That McKagan boy is known to be a little jealous at times.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over,” Izzy shrugged and handed him money for a horse. “Have you ever heard of a Headless Horseman?”

“William Bruce?” Doc McGhee asked. “That’s a legend started to scare children. Every time something bad happens in the woods, it’s always “the headless horseman did it”. Nine times out of ten, it’s probably a bear.”

“And the tenth time?” Izzy questions.

“Well, it’s probably the jealous fiancee of a beautiful girl,” Doc told him.

“Uh, right,” Izzy nodded. “Thanks for the horse.”

“Her name is Gunsmoke,” Doc told him. Izzy just gave him a smile before departing with his new horse.

“I like her.” Slash told him when he saw the horse later. “It’ll be easy for you to get to the Adler house for the party.”

“Party?” Izzy asked. “What party?”

“They have a big festival every year. Everyone in town is invited.” Slash explained. “There will be apples and dancing and, of course, beer.” Slash could tell that Izzy was going to bail. “And Stevie will be there.”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Izzy sighed.

That’s how he found himself at the party later that evening, with people he didn’t know. He saw Duff and Stevie sitting at the table with Mayor Adler and his wife, and Slash with Thomas, Frank, Vincent, and a fourth having the time of their lives. Izzy was about to leave when Stevie snagged his hand.

“Izzy, the party is just starting,” Stevie told him. “Please tell me you’re not leaving now.”

“I think I’m just going to go work on my lessons,” Izzy told her, resulting in a pout.

“Dance with me at least once,” Stevie didn’t really ask, but told him. Izzy looked over at Duff, who was watching.

“Are you sure that he won’t mind?” Izzy asked. Stevie looked over at Duff before turning her attention back to Izzy.

“He’s harmless,” Stevie smiled. “Come now.” She led him to where others were dancing as music played. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“Just from practicing,” Izzy told her, spinning her around. It was all too soon before the song was over and Stevie bid farewell to Izzy, heading back to her table. Izzy decided to call it a night and headed towards Gunsmoke, leaving Slash with his friends.

Stevie approached the table where Duff had been sitting with her parents, frowning when she didn’t see him.

“Where’s Duff?” She asked.

“Oh, he said he and his friends needed to grab something. He’ll be back,” Mrs. Adler told her. Stevie frowned and headed towards her horse, going to look for Duff.

Izzy headed through the woods from the Adler home to his own when he heard the sound of a horse neighing. He looked around, fully expecting to see Slash right behind him, but he saw nothing. Gunsmoke seemed to sense a change in the air because she picked up her pace.

“Woah girl. Easy,” Izzy tried to calm her, but she stopped suddenly. Izzy thought he had succeeded until he saw a figure on a horse. Izzy’s eyes widened when he realized the figure had no head, and in his hands, he held a light jack-o-lantern. Izzy turned to head the other way, but the rider was close on him, much faster on the horse. As Izzy approached the bridge that led over the small river, he felt the back of his neck get hot as the jack-o-lantern hit him in the back, knocking him off his horse.

Groaning, Izzy rolled himself over onto his back to see the headless figure looming down at him. That’s when he heard laughing. From behind the trees were some of the McKagan brothers. Confused, Izzy looked back at the other rider as he removed his jacket, showing Duff.

“Oh we got you!” Duff laughed. “Your face!” Izz got off the dusty ground and brushed himself off.

“I have half a mind to…” Izzy was cut off by a scream. Duff and his brothers froze as Izzy looked towards the graveyard. There, by a few of the unmarked and unkept graves, was Stevie, trapped by a figure on a black horse.

“Who’s that?” Duff asked. The figure turned to look at him.

“Another one of your brothers?” Izzy asked. Duff shook his head. Before they could move to go help Stevie, the headless figure plucked her off her horse and threw her on his.

“Hey!” Duff called out. At that time, Slash, Vincent, Thomas, Frank, and their friend Robert all joined up with them.

“It’s William Bailey!” Thomas called out. Stevie pushed away from him, trying to get away, but he held on tighter to her, using her for leverage.

“Burn him!” Stevie called out to them. “Burn his bones!” The figure placed a gloved hand over her mouth to keep her from talking.

“Where’s his grave?” Izzy asked Slash.

“Uh, I think it’s an unmarked one…” Slash told him. “I think it’s that one.” He pointed to a grave under a scary-looking willow that Stevie had been standing under.

“Duff, I need your help,” Izzy told him. Duff nodded and headed towards the graveyard with him. The headless figure charged at them, swinging an ax with Stevie still stuck with him. Duff dove and made his way towards the tree, and with the help of the others, worked on digging to find William’s bones. Stevie bit down on William’s hand, forcing him to let go of her. She fell into Izzy’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” He told her, holding her as the headless figure raced back towards him. “Close your eyes.” He told her as he squeezed his own shut, waiting for the pain of beheading that never came.

Instead, he opened an eye to see the figure on fire before disappearing, Duff and the others standing there, confused.

“I...is it over?” Stevie asked.

“I think so,” Izzy told her. She placed a quick kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” She told him before heading back over to Duff, who quickly wrapped his arms around her. Izzy looked at them before looking back at the grave.

Only to realize that there was no head to the body.

****

“The end.” Axl finished up.

“Why did you make yourself the Headless Horseman?” Duff asked. “Why aren’t you Ichabod?”

“Because I don’t like Stevie.” Axl pointed out.

“And Izzy does?” Duff questioned, looking at the guitarist.

“Shut up.” Izzy hissed.

“Okay, someone else think up a better story before Izzy and Duff kill each other, or Axl. Or both.” Slash said and everyone got quiet, trying to think of a way to outdo Axl’s story.

Forever Tags: @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​ @jaxl-road​

Guns n Roses Tags: @malibubarbievince​ @slashscowboyboots​ @hauntedapricoteggsclam​ @bitter-13-suite​ @arianareirg​ @lucyboytom​ @julessworldd​ @solopadawan​ @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker​@catsandacoffee @kaitieskidmore1​ @heavy-metal-fucking-rules @aratbaby​ @dufflesmckagan​ @appetiteforstradlin​ @acdcmutual​

[soranihimawari]

are you serious?

estranged friends to lovers featuring this lovely dude ^ and thanks to some meddling from both sides of their lives, miya atsumu finds out that maybe he should date you. after all, what are you going to do once msby guys see you on the evening news when you make the cut to be the vice captain of the ladies beach vbc olympic team?

warnings: none yet, so sfw for now ;]

+ note: will make this a weekly series if i get enough notes eventually

tagging: @m0nstergeneration20xx​

is it serious? --osamu

[[1 new photo]]

those three words illuminate underneath the backlight of his phone screen. the blips play at the strings of his heart. the run-in at the gym was completely by accident and truthfully you weren’t expecting the glow up fairy to fuck with both of your perceptions of the other. both of your posture changes from confusion to flirtatious the moment his eyes illuminate with the recognition.

“who’s your friend atsumu-san?” 

you divert your attention to the rest of the rookie teammates while you nod your head acknowledging the oncoming arrival of the other members of the MSBY team. you rapidly exchange greetings and names in an efficient manner. 

“i should go. seems like you want to celebrate,” your tone is honey incarnate causing even the ones under the medi-masks to absorb your warmth. “see ya miya-chan.”

when you wave over your shoulder, you shake your head wondering if your heartbeat would stop nervously beating out of rhythm because you caught yourself walking away from the afterglow. 

at the restaurant the lads usually buy dinner after another successful victory, the topic of conversation circles back around again to the mystery stranger who had a connection with their starting setter. the team dinner was an idea that everyone including meian thought would be good to have at least once (or twice) a month. 

“she’s an old friend,” he bashfully admits. 

“that makes you look like a lovesick war hero?” their libero busts his pride a little.

“it’s nothing like that,” bokuto defends, “right?”

miya shrugs and their captain pieces the information together for the rest of the team after being there many times himself before he had settled down with his lady.

“she was your almost,” meian states matter of factly. their ears perk up including atsumu who just stared at his captain registering the word in his head. 

“you two seemed pretty close when we arrived,” meian continues. “call it a hunch, but you shouldn’t throw away fate’s design ‘tsum.”

the television in the restaurant moves on to it’s countdown for the upcoming olympics. it creates a certain ambiance of familiarity at the family style restaurant which the team are frequent customers.

“and in other news, seems like the women’s beach volleyball roster has officially been announced,” the anchor says. there is a wide angle shot of the beach courts on the coast of Okinawa.

“Holy shit,” bokuto says and it’s the only time meian allows his team to use such language at their dinner. your sporadic movements on the sand court makes for insane sets for your teammates on the court. 

“their young vice captain makes her presence known as her teammate sets the ball to ‘the missile,’ and wow! a clean pipe that proves why the name stuck in the underground leagues. and you can catch up with the rest of the beach volleyball team when the summer games begin next month. now back to you guys in the studio!”

“fuck me, she’s probably more dangerous than omi-san,” meian says finally. atsumu just scoffs at the compliment because he knew there were other monsters in the world, but none that made him more nervous than you. 

...

“are you for real?” your roommate exclaims. you tell her about the run-in on the street and she flips. you could of told her you saw the Almighty and she would have an easier time believing that.

“did you at least get his contact info?”

“no! of course not,” you answer with a strained voice. “besides, he hears the banter of his fans everyday, so what difference does it make if he has my number or vice versa.”

“because those compliments came from the vice captain of team japan women’s beach volleyball?”

you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. after all, you were also watching the news story that was filmed last week tonight with her on the couch. in your wine glasses, you both share the last bit of blueberry powerade because you wanted to be sober in case you’d have to talk to the boy who christened you with the nickname one fall evening in hyogo. sure you were first years, but the bitterness of rivals with clashing styles on the court proved to be a little challenging especially since your schools respectfully had their golden week of training at the same resort.

“your phone is going to start ringing soon,” your friend shares a laugh with you. and usually she’s not wrong, but then again, her closest ally was sitting with her telling her the story of the nickname. the familiar chime of your phone going off caused her to only laugh harder before she watches you scramble to answer.

you shut your door the moment she yells, “no fucking between nine a.m. and five p.m.!”

clearly the other person on the line starts laughing hearing the voice clear as day before he clears his throat. atsumu is finally in the comfort of his own home in his side of the city. he asked his seniors if anyone had a way to contact you, so you were surprised the social media team readily gave him the phone number. funnily enough, it was the same one you had scribbled down on the back of an ice pop receipt.

“you didn’t change your contact number,” he states. 

“neither did you,” you said. a half rest of silence comes over you both, but he speaks first again. 

“i saw the news tonight with the team.”

“you guys have team dinners? that’s cute.”

you flirtatious remark didn’t go unnoticed, so atsumu decides to hit you with a genuine compliment. it’s the first thought that came to mind when you were younger due to the run in you had with each other at the bathhouse.

“you’re cute.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t quite catch that miya-senshu. i think you called me cute?”

“i-i...ugh yeah.”

“pfft. if this is you flirting with me, i’d say you are doing a lot better than most of my flings.”

“listen, the guys are going to have my head if i don’t follow through with this, so will ya--”

“meet me at roppengi station at seven tomorrow morning. dress casual.”

there was something in the way you had asked atsumu out in a charming manner he wholeheartedly agrees. after your conversation wraps up, you go about your evening plans of talking with your roommate who is beyond thrilled to tease you about a long-overdue date. 

atsumu stares the at clock on his phone before turning on his side thanking his captain for giving him an extra day off from practice tomorrow. according to the way meian explains it simply to their athletic trainer was that their starting setter needed a personal day.

you meet at the appointed location after much deliberation of wearing and you often quote your roommate’s line of, “you need your best ‘professional’ revenge outfit babs.” now that you see what she means as you spot the athlete you bumped into yesterday: long sleeve mocha graphic shirt with the designer house logo stitched on paired with tapered casual friday pants. you on the other hand, are a splash of dark academia styled clothing with sensible shoes.

“and here i thought about leaving you behind on my adventure,” you muse as atsumu gives you a once over. he was over analyzing your silhouette as the rust belt flecks in your eyes decide to taunt him. all his life, he had trouble not focusing on anything other than volleyball related (aside from school work and such), but now he had a transient lady friend look up at him like he was not the local playboy prince of the volleyball club.

“i’d bet good money you wouldn’t because no one would want to hear about me missing morning practice because of a covert date with ya,” he sees the way your eyes narrow a smidge. he knows this stare; he’s seen it before at the training camp because of someone making a snide remark about your financial situation at home. you lead him down the platform and when you board the standing room only train, you both stare at your reflection in the window. your stop is not longer than fifteen minutes away, but you allow atsumu to hold you steady with one hand on your waist and the other on the rail above him. you fill him in on the tour you’re planning to take him down to the shopping district where you know people would go about their days not realizing who they were (celebrity athletes).

“you two look good together, isn’t that right hue?” 

“thank you granny,” you said with a smile at the elderly woman who sits a few rows to your left. her husband nods with a funny smile. you really sell it with the way you place your hand over the one he has on your waist when the traini comes to a stop. 

you and atsumu, once you make it to the surface head into the east village where you see the local trattorias begin setting their outdoor seating arrangements and one of the servers stops you both asking if you’d like to part take in a taste testing for his family’s restaurant.

“senpai’s amazing,” the server says like it’s the easiest answer he ever had to say. “she paid for auntie’s medicine last time she visited here. you really are lucky to be on a date with her.”

after your orders are put in, atsumu decides for once to not be a complete jackass, somewhere sakusa runs into a butterfly and he chuckles to himself because it means someone was using their brain properly. and in the quiet hours of a local village fifteen minutes away by train, a miya twin is falling back in love with his date one minute at a time. 

“are you ok atsumu?” you ask as you pour some apple juice from the carafe into your glass. it was then you had your epiphany the moment he asks you if you’d like to visit his brother’s store on a dinner date before you head out for the taping of the opening ceremonies. 

“i’d like that,” you reply. “but let’s make it through this one first, mmk?”

“good because i couldn’t look you in the eye if ya said no star-chan.”

“star-chan?”

you lean back in your chair and tilt your head to the side in thought. your brows furrow together a bit confused by the nickname therefore atsumu enlightens you to the best compliment anyone had given you (in your young adult life):

“because i finally see what meian says when he says he loves the sunspot in his life,” he sheepishly admits. you can tell he was being sincere when you glance at the way he becomes more flustered when you encourage him to hold your gaze for a few seconds.

“seven out of ten,” you say with a rosey lilt in your tone. at this, your companion at the table leans in clearly annoyed with your score. “but given the fact that you’re here with me now at eight twenty on your day off, and the smoothness of that confession, you’re clearly a nine overall because i highly doubt you’re not going to let me go again, right?”

he nods. he finally replies to his message from earlier last week from his brother after taking a self-ca with you on the promenade before you head back to the train station around two in the afternoon.

yeah ‘samu. you could say i am.

[[1 new photo]]

[astrhae]

Hi there! first, can I say how much I appreciate your pp tutorial I'm definitely going to be giving it a try so thank you. I wanted to ask, where do you get your inspiration to edit? I always come up short whenever I think of stuff to edit and do the same ones over and over again.

i think the process of trying to find inspiration is different for everyone. for me, i usually find the topic of the edit first, then i go to the formatting of the edit

(p.s. for anyone else reading, here’s the link to the pp tutorial)

for the topic, if it's a character profile edit, i mostly try to find a less explored angle of the character and then build on that theme.

if it's an edit for a ship, it's more me channeling my latest plot bunnies or poems into it and finding the tropes in that ship that i enjoy.

when i have the topic, it then goes to the formatting of the edit, which again is a lot of trial and error. but i try to build on that theme. for example:

the tony + ethics edit: the highlighting circles are inspired by the arc reactor and its brightness

the tony + kids edit: the cameras and polaroids are inspired by a family photo album sort of theme

the iron fam + hamilton lyrics edit: the flowers around the boxes is like the wreath around the arc reactor in the lake

and if you're stuck, a good place to turn to is colors and infographics! colors help bind the edit together to create a sense of cohesiveness and infographic templates like those you can find for free here are great to arrange things. for example:

the tony + AIs edit: i originally had all the boxes gray like in the E.D.I.T.H. box, but didn't like how they turned out because they seemed disjointed. adding some color to the DUM-E box made things stand out more and look better

the tony + combat history edit: i have to be honest, the very first image came from a slide i had to make to present data for an actual class (inspired by powerpoint's smartart feature). and the idea of using medallions as bullet points came from browsing through too many infographics for work

for my social media edits, it's mostly inspired by quotes from my everyday life. 

when i run out of inspiration, i browse through posters on google or discuss things with friends or turn to other projects. or even just taking a break helps. 

i haven't had the energy to finish my next character profile edit, but the great thing about fandom there's no need to feel pressured! this is all for fun and you should make what you like :)

also, there’s nothing wrong with using old templates. sometimes a simple gifset is enough. sometimes you reuse things to make new edits. the most important things with making edits is to just enjoy it, because whether it’s the same thing or a new one, it’s still more cake 💛

[exorciseyourspirit]

Plane Easy|| Miriam, Rebecca and Theodora

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @meflemming, @slayed-slayer and @exorciseyourspirit SUMMARY: Janet from The Good Place voice: Not a witch. CONTENT: Blood, Possession Non-Con

Over the past few weeks, Rebecca had been gathering all the supplies and materials she would need to help her astral project while awake. She’d tried a few times, with little success, so she’d gone to the local magic store to try and get more information on it. A few new books on the subject had pointed her in the right direction. It told her that going to a place charged with emotion would help, as well as finding somewhere where the veil was thin. And she knew just the place. Theodora’s grave. She hadn’t visited still, the last time her body had been there it had not been her own, but it was now. It would be strange, she supposed, to be standing next to her wife’s grave with her floating nearby, but what choice did she have? She knew Theo would never let her do this, or come here, alone, so this was how it was to be.

When they arrived at the cemetery, Rebecca had made sure to check the perimeter, and Theo had even double checked her scouting. No one in sight, not even a spawn. The trek to the grave was slower, and the closer they got, the slower Rebecca went. Stopping almost completely even when she was still meters away from it. Swallowing, she looked where she thought Theodora might be judging by her feel, and went up to the grave, staring down at it. Theodora Fairfax, Loving Wife, Friend. July 16th, 1973 - September 27th, 2018. And below that, her quote: Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ We are not now that strength in which old days, Moved Earth and heaven, that which we are, we are.” Rebecca was still for a long moment, before opening up her pack and beginning to lay out all her stuff. Candles, incense, herbs, and the mat that she’d drawn her safety pentacle on. She didn’t look up as she worked, worried she’d see right through her wife again, as she sat next to her grave. “You remember the plan?” she asked quietly, smoothing down the mat.

“I do. Maintain a safe perimeter, and if anything seems amiss, stick you with your dagger until you wake. Nothing I can’t handle, even in death,” Theodora replied gently, hovering close to her ear. She sat down on her headstone and regarded her wife with as much care as worry. She was nervous, and with good reason. Rebecca’s soul had always been sensitive, astute, but she had never tried anything like this with her capabilities before. Seeing her nerves, Theodora couldn’t help but be concerned herself. She knew, of course, that Rebecca’s unflappable air was just that, that exhaustive amounts of care and study went into every ritual. And oh, this was not the time to rattle her with warnings and questions. They had gone over the details plenty of times at Rebecca’s home as it was. “You didn’t have to come do it here, dearest,” she said, “Though I do appreciate the gesture.”

Cemeteries were fine places for walks. Sure, ghosts could be a little chatty, and, sure, there were chances for Miriam to run into the nosier members of her own kind, not to mention the more primal ones, but it was relaxing. And, sometimes, it was even fun. Sometimes, you could just be walking, and you’d end up stumbling upon a little witch and a ghost hanging out on a tombstone, surrounded by all kinds of fun items. But it could just be some idiot poser without a clue. All kinds of people these days were into that New Age bullshit that Miriam had seen on television advertised late at night. Famous people made all sorts of money selling the bullshit, selling ideas of nonsense as real magic. This could just be nonsense. But, if it was real… Miriam could really go for a bit of pain and misery. Possibly even a full meal. Who knew? Keeping her distance, Miriam crouched not too far away, behind a large angel statue. She went completely still. If one weren’t paying attention, they’d simply think she was another monument to the dead. In a way, she kind of was.

“I truly wish it were under different circumstances,” Rebecca mumbled, sitting down next to the headstone. “Though I suppose I should...apologize for not coming any sooner. The book suggested somewhere of...value. So...” Theo was close to her, she could feel it, but it only made her heart wrench more, wishing she could see her. She glanced down at her arrangement and muttered a word, in her natural tongue, and the candles all lit. She smiled. “Been practicing that one,” she said, looking over at where she hoped Theo was. “Magic isn’t my forte, but small things are accomplishments, too.” She settled herself in and took up her meditation position. Legs crossed in front of her, hands resting palm up on her knees and open. Rebecca’s spirituality had always been an inherent part of her being, it was why she felt so compelled to help spirits, why she felt it her destiny to become an exorcist. Why she had the ability to astral project, and why she was here, now, meditating in a cemetery. If she could reach the other plane on her own, then, maybe, she could find a way to pull him out with her. It was a long shot, but it was one worth taking. 

She gave one last exhale and nod-- “Here goes nothing”-- before closing her eyes and concentrating. Letting the energy of the world around her flow into the circle, pulling it in, calling it with her own spirit. It was a lot like an exorcism, in the way that she pushed through the energies around her to call to the right ones, but instead of compelling them away, she was pulling them in. The circle she sat upon began to glow, a soft hum of light engulfing her. Hair waving limply in the small wind that pooled inside of her sanctum circle. She reached through the ether, through the pull of magic, and searched for it-- the astral plane. Latched on, tugged. Rebecca’s body, once stiff, slumped.

Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, Miriam decided that she’d more than seen enough. Glowing circles were magic bull shit, sure, but the real kind of magic bull shit that she was brought back to destroy. Who the hell knew what the little witch was doing? Miriam resolved herself to end it before it even began. Eyes red and fangs out, she stalked close slowly, careful not to make a sound. Just as she drew close enough, Miriam leapt forward and onto the woman in the circle, knocking them both out of it and taking the woman to the ground. She could practically feel the magic radiating off of the woman. Or maybe she couldn’t; Miriam wasn’t sure what about her feelings towards magic were her own rage and which were legitimate. She’d been so sure that the old man she’d tailed home last week had been a spell caster, had practically felt the magic burning across her skin when he’d touched her in the grocery store, and he’d just turned out to be an old man. A creepy one, but an old human man with no magical abilities except for the unnatural octaves at which he could scream. But she knew this was real, this was different, and, as she leaned over the woman, fangs out and mouth twisted into a snarl, she knew she was going to take a real long time with this. She didn’t even pay attention to the little ghost hanging about.

Theodora saw the vampire coming. She leapt to her feet, instincts from her life firing at once. It wasn’t until her hand went through the dagger that she realised how helpless she was. She could grab it again, concentrate, be more than a bundle of impulses, but what good would that do against a creature already dead? “Get away from her!” She cried. “Rebecca!” She reached for the dagger anyway, what could she do but try? What slayer wouldn’t face a foe with at least some kind of weapon? She flung herself at the vampire, sinking the blade into her shoulder. “Let her go, let her go, damn you!” She cried. She twisted it, hoping in vain that at least the pain would be enough to deter her. She could not fail at this again. She wouldn’t. If she could just throttle her, if she could just make the creature’s hands her own and make her stop…

When Rebecca’s eyes opened again, she wasn’t in the cemetery. A fog rolled at her feet, so thick and heavy she couldn’t see them. The world around her was cold and dark, but she couldn’t feel anything. “Hello?” she called out tentatively. Her voice echoed everywhere. One step and her footsteps echoed everywhere. Had she done it? Was this the astral plane? It seemed so unfamiliar, so unlike where she’d been in her dreams, while he was awake. She needed to find a way, now, to peer back into the real world. To the Earthly plane, and make sure she hadn’t just given him free reign. But she somehow felt like she knew he wasn’t there. She didn’t feel the same, heavy tug as before. A sudden voice rang out, sounding far away. It barely reached her ears, but she knew who it was. “Theodora?” she called back. Was she talking to her or trying to wake her? Rebecca turned in circles. “Theodora?”

Back in the cemetery, Rebeecca’s body still lay limp, tousled under the pressure of Miriam’s body bearing down above her. Helpless.

Miriam felt the knife in her shoulder, but instead of reacting to the pain of it, she grinned widely, too focused on her quarry underneath her. In fact, it was quite useful for her. She looked at the little ghost raging against her. “Thanks for the gift, sweetness.” She plucked the knife out, not even wiping it free of dark, dead blood. She twirled it between her fingers, admiring it or a bit. A bit of a longer, thinner blade than she was used to, but it was a really nice blade. Miriam couldn’t complain. Perhaps she should even invest in more traditional styles of weaponry. Then again, skinning knives were kind of her specialty. But this one was so lovely. She ran it along the little witch’s collar bones, digging in deep enough for blood to bead up to the surface, enough to hurt. But there was no reaction underneath her, no flinch, no pain. Miriam snarled again at the lack of reaction, frustrated by it and the ghost’s annoying presence. “Go away,” she growled out before she stabbed the knife into the woman’s shoulder, hoping for a reaction. She twisted it in the same way the ghost had attempted to do to her.

Theodora reached for the knife again, crying out, “No!” But whatever pull she managed to work on the hilt, it was no match for the vampire’s strength. She screamed, furious and wild as an animal as the blade sank into Rebecca’s shoulder. She reached for the vampire as if to shove her off with force. Perhaps she even could. She only knew she could not let her hurt Rebecca, she would not take her wife from the earth, and if she had to make her…

The shift happened so swiftly, Theodora was still screaming when she found herself in the creature’s body. “Bloody hell,” she whispered, the vampire’s voice, her tongue and teeth feeling strange after two years without a body. She tested her hands, flexing her fingers. They obeyed her command just easily as her own once had. Of all the ways… But, there was more important work to be done. “Rebecca!” She called, reaching across for her bag. Rebecca was always prepared, there had to be something to staunch the bleeding. “Rebecca, can you hear me, darling? Wake up! Please, darling!”

“Theo--” Rebecca started. In the next moment, pain ripped through her. Ripped her from her spot, pulled her back down to Earth, back into her body, back where it stayed, loud and clear and jolting. Rebecca screamed, eyes shooting open. She saw someone unfamiliar above her, even through the blur of red, hot tears matching the searing pain in her shoulder. Let me help you came the voice in her ears again, just like during the exorcism. Rebecca struggled to move, thrashing under the weight of whoever this was, pain pouring up and down her arm, into her chest, her neck, her stomach. “Get off!” she shouted, shoving at her. “GET OFF!”

Theodora fell back easily, collapsing to the ground. “Rebecca don’t--!” She cried, putting out an arm towards her. “Don’t move, you’ll make it worse! Let me help, let me help this time.” Hearing the strange voice in her ear, seeing a bewildering streak of blonde hair in her eyes, she realized how her request this might seem. She hadn’t thought things out this far. “It’s me!” She said quickly. “It’s Theo, I’m--I’m Theo, darling. For now, at any rate. I--I know the song we danced to in my London flat was ‘heroes,’ and your birthday is coming soon, and, oh for heaven’s sake, will you just let me close?”

Let me help, I can help. Rebecca thrashed again, pain rippling down her body. “Lehizdayen, hashem!” she cursed, grabbing her shoulder where it burned, feeling wet cloth stick between her fingers, the scent of blood suddenly thick in her nostrils. Forced herself to sit up, shaking with the effort, the pain, the exhaustion of being ripped from the plane like that. Dizzy, she looked up. Locked eyes with the body in front of her. And she knew. Even without the words, she knew. She could see it in her eyes, feel it in the air. “Theo…?” she panted, struggling forward, collapsing into her. “Theo, it’s you. My love. You’re here. You’re really…”

Theodora couldn’t help but smile as recognition dawned on Rebecca’s features. “Yes,” she said, tears and laughter welling up at once as she crashed into her--crashed with relief and force that Theodora could feel because she had a body. “Yes, darling. I’m really here.” And seeing her wife in her arms, having their eyes meet, truly meet and know each other, she could think of nothing to do next but cup her face and kiss her as she had longed to do since she’d found she returned. It was strange, as far as kisses went. One wasn’t usually a stranger to their own lips. But Rebecca’s were familiar, as soft as all her memories, and Theodora couldn’t quell the longing or the pent up desire in her. It wasn’t until her arm brushed against the blade in Rebecca’s shoulder, irritating her wound, that she had the good sense to stop and pull back. “I think I’ve missed you too much,” she said. “I’m getting carried away. Let’s tend to your wounds quickly, yes?”

Rebecca’s heart swelled. It didn’t feel the same, her lips were too cold, too soft, but it was still Theo. She kissed her back, her Theo, her lover, who she thought she’d never get to see again, hold again, let alone kiss again, still dizzy and weary from the pain in her shoulder. Reality began to slowly trickle back in when she pulled away, her arm throbbing. She’d been stabbed with her own dagger, something sacred and ceremonial, and it was still dug deep into her skin, tearing muscle and sinew. “We can’t take it out,” she said, looking at it, her face already paling from the blood loss. “I need...hospital. And you need--” to get out of that body. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She wanted Theodora to say, she wanted her to have this forever, to be tangible and alive and real again forever. But she knew that wasn’t right, she knew that couldn’t happen. “To explain to me...what happened.” She panted again, drawing in a shaky breath. “Come, help me up. We can...take the car. It’s not far.”

Theodora knew what Rebecca meant. She had never possessed a body before, much less a vampire. There was no telling how long it would last, and of course, even if she hadn’t heard over and over from Rebecca over the years, she knew it was wrong. Even in a vampire, it was wrong. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back, and lifted Rebecca and her things with ease. “You shouldn’t be walking if you don’t have to,” she explained, stiffer now. They were working. They needed to move. “This—whoever she is, bloody vampire, came out from over there,” she gestured with her chin. “She was waiting for you to go into your trance, I think. Most likely thought it would be an easy snack. She moved quickly. There was only so much I could do, with the way I am. I’m still not sure how I managed to do this, exactly. But how far did you get? Did you see anything?” And perhaps, could she prattle on long enough to fill the silence? Enough to somehow prolong the moment, even as she marched them dutifully to its end?

It took more effort that Miriam would ever admit for her to take control of her body again. She hadn’t actually known she’d been fighting. She’d never been possessed before, despite her knowing that it’d be a possibility. It was an unnerving feeling, to come back to her head. She groaned a bit, stopping the walk that she’d been in the middle of, and took in her surroundings once more. There was the witch, standing and looking a bit worse for wear. Good, Miriam thought. The woman didn’t, for just the moment, seem to have noticed that Miriam was no longer her little ghostly companion. She stopped the other woman, not saying a word. Then, gently, so gently, she reached to the knife still in the witch’s shoulder. And she twisted it. Harshly. Gritting her teeth and growling animalistically, a small part of Miriam (the one that had long chats with nice witches on the internet and would prefer to drink fine wine than blood) was disgusted by her own behavior. However, a much bigger part was pissed off and hunger, and damn, this woman’s pain was so sweet. She yanked the knife out and grinned savagely. “Your move, bitch,” she said gutturally, head jerking around wildly looking for the ghost that possessed her.

“A vampire?” Rebecca exclaimed, a bit shocked in her own right. “You’re possessing a--” she paused, shook her head, trying not to think about the dagger buried in her shoulder. “Then why use my dagger?” She asked, unsuccessful. She shook her head, hobbling along beside her now that they’d grown closer to the car. “I think I did, it’s...all sort of fuzzy, still, but--” A chill ran through her for a moment. She stopped when Theodora did, looking over at her, just a little too late in her realization. The blade twisted and Rebecca cried out again, feeling more pain jolt through her, more blood as the metal was removed from her flesh and she teetered backwards, exhausted from her trip and now her apparent stabbing. She staggered away from her, heaving, hand pressed to the spot on her shoulder that was now leaking excessively. Fuck. “What do you want from me?” she hissed at her, realizing that her only line of defense was in the vampire’s hands, and Theodora was nowhere to be felt. That’s not all, and you know it, came the voice in her head, and her eyes flickered red just a moment. “Clearly you’re not just here for an easy meal,” she said, still struggling to stay standing, and to focus on the actual person in front of her when her vision was blurring into three different spaces.

“I want you dead, witch bitch,” Miriam snarled. “But I’ll take you in pain.” She bared her fangs. How dare this woman send a ghost to possess her. How’d she even manage that in the first place? She’d yet to meet a loyal ghost. Most of them just pined and bemoaned their inability to move on. They rarely went for any sort of action. And they certainly didn’t attack vampires. That was like possessing the hand that showed you attention. Well, see if Miriam stopped to chat with any one her way home. Fucking spirits. She ran her finger up the blade slowly, collecting blood onto her finger and licking it off. “This is an easy meal, darling. Your pain? You misery. My God, it’s absolutely delicious.” She slowly reached out and put her hand over the other woman’s, where it was covering the wound on her shoulder. Smiling pleasantly, she pressed down hard with the intent to cause pain. “This is fun. Aren’t you having fun, dearest?”

“Witch?” Rebecca repeated, raising a brow. “I’m not a--” but she didn’t have time to finish, as the vampire was closing in again, this time putting a hand over hers and pressing down. Rebecca recoiled in pain, clenching her jaw as to not let the hideous sound in her throat out. She didn’t want to give her any more satisfaction. Let me show you how it’s done, said the voice in her head. “No,” she hissed back, to both of them, backing away again, Stumbling into the brick wall behind her that lined the cemetery. “You stay away from me.” Red eyes flickering once again, hairs on her arms bristling, standing on end. The second the vampire moved towards her again, a wave of energy shot from her, knocking her back. Rebecca’s heaved, sliding down the wall to a sit, worn. Give me control. I can save us. “No,” she said again, looking over at the vampire with fierce eyes. “Theodora! I know you’re in there! Get your ass out here and help me!”

Theodora’s grip fell from the vampire’s body before she realized it was slipping. One moment she was setting Rebecca on the ground, the next it was dark. She didn’t know how to push, exactly, for control. Had she any means of scratching, even biting her way to power it would have been easy. But there was nothing, and damnit, who knew what she was doing to Rebecca now. Theodora concentrated on getting to the surface. It had been a trick of will before, hadn’t it? She had wanted the vampire to stop. Now was no different. And lest she get too comfortable, undead bitch, Theodora would drag her back down to her place. She was a slayer. Dead and disgraced for one reason or another, she was still a slayer. And she would not hand Rebecca over to any vampire’s clutches. 

The next thing Theodora knew, the day was before her again. Her body (God help her, it had worked; she had a body) was on the asphalt, stinging from something. She looked wildly about her, rushing to get her bearings. Rebecca was slumped against the wall, bleeding worse than before. “Rebecca!” She rushed to her, but stopped just short of taking her into her arms again. “I can’t—I don’t know how long I can hold on. But I can get you to the car safely, at least.” She looked down, her face, however strange, riddled with apology, and tentatively held out her hand. 

“No, just--” Rebecca started, wheezing now with the effort it took to breath and hold onto herself in spite of the pain. “Get her out of here. She’s a...witch….hunter…” she grunted through each word with each breath, straining to pull herself up. “I can get myself...to the hospital...just...meet me there.” Staggered towards the car, hand still pressed to the open and gushing wound, her arm having gone numb a long time ago, despite the pain coursing through her chest and into her shoulder and back out again. She looked back at Theodora-- or, well, the vampire-- one last time, grieving, again, for the loss she was about to endure. It hadn’t been the same, it could never be the same, but it had been something. And something was more than she’d had in years to look forward to. To know that she had something here for her. To know that, perhaps, there was a way to get back all the things she’d lost.  

Theodora couldn’t leave without knowing Rebecca was safe inside the car. She dared not touch her injury, there was nothing she could to but make it worse, or tempt the vampire into coming back to use it against her, but what was next for them? She would run, and she would throw the vampire somewhere safe, preferably near a hunter or two, or where she might get lost in the woods until sunrise. And what then? “Wait!” She called. She reached through Rebecca’s open window for her face and pulled her into one last rough, rushed kiss. “I love you,” she said. “And I’m sorry. Get there safe, I’ll take care of the rest. She pressed her fingers into her skin, trying to memorize the softness of it, the warmth of it. Then she turned and broke off at a sprint in the opposite direction. The vampire was fighting her, somehow she could feel it, but she would get them far, too far for there to be any trouble before she let go.

Rebecca collapsed into the car and started the engine, doing her best to hold onto her consciousness. Let me, he said inside of her head, and before she could say no, her eyes closed and she fell back into unconsciousness.

The car started, and drove in the direction of the hospital.

Miriam was running when she came to, unsure of where she was. She skidded a bit to a stop, looking around wildly. No witch. No ghost. She screamed, grabbing her head. “Out, out, out,” she snarled, not knowing where the fuck the ghost was, if it was even still inside her. She was breathing heavy, not because she needed to but because the impulse was still there, even in her long dead body. She was panicked, just a little. She’d never been possessed, had no idea how to get unpossessed. The idea of losing control was devastating, and she could barely handle it. It was until she calmed down that she realized that she was alone inside her head. Or she hoped. It didn’t feel any more crowded than usual. She looked at her hands, one of them still clutching the knife. Miriam calmed herself a bit, taking in the beauty of the blade. It was still covered in blood. This was good, then. She liked souvenirs. This one just came a little earlier than usual.

[rosmarinys]

touch like a balm

dedicated to @panesars bc she’s lovely and helped me out with this and is also lovely love u dear. also this is a pushing daisies au yes agshsjsjs

"So, I bring can bring back the dead, but I also run a bakery, and I feel like the latter should get more attention, if I'm completely honest."

//

or the one where Ash runs a bakery, Dotty is trying to be the world's greatest private eye by cheating, and Iqra just wants to know what's going on.

read on ao3

chapter one – love like a wound, love like forgiveness

 Ash’s shit day goes like this: Dotty gets her another job, Keegan pesters her about bills, Callum and Bobby break a plate and Iqra dies.

It’s a lot.

//

 “Bills for you,” Keegan greets, leaning against the doorway to his office.

“You know, when I made you the manager, it’s because I didn’t want to deal with any of the managing part of the bakery,” Ash says, tying an apron around her waist. It’s so early in the morning that she doesn’t even want to know the exact time and she can still feel the imprint of her bed beneath her back, and she knows better than to close her eyes for more than a second after the last time she fell asleep standing up, elbow deep in dough.

Keegan snorts. “And yet we are partners, so I need your thoughts on what exactly we need for the next stock.”

Ash sighs but nods and runs their stock through her sleep-riddled mind. “Um, we’re running low on raspberries I’m sure. Strawberries, definitely, we’re down to the last ones today and I’ve been making less strawberry pies because of it. I had to give Dotty a cranberry pie yesterday and she threatened to never come back again.”

Keegan doesn’t look up from the list he’s making but he snorts. “Oh, how grateful we would all be for that. She re-organised all of my files last week, did I tell you?”

Ash chuckles. “No, you didn’t. What exactly did she do?”

Keegan does look up now, pad of paper and pen tucking underneath his arms as he crosses them as a frown flits across his face. “I had everything how I wanted it, everything was filed in terms of likability –”

Ash laughs, pausing in her weighing of flour in order to clap her hands before clasping them over her mouth. “You’re kidding. I thought you were joking when you said you were gonna file everything like that! Keegan!”

Keegan gestures wildly, a reluctant grin stretching his lips. “It works, ok? Or worked. Like, Ian is at the back of my third filing cabinet because he’s a Tory, and I remember that, I remember putting it there and thinking, fuck you. It was a good system!”

Ash giggles, absolutely delighted, and Keegan bites down his bottom lip to try and stop his own laughter. “Ok, ok. So how is organised now that Dotty has ruined everything?”

Keegan rolls his eyes and says with as much venom as he can muster, “Alphabetically.”

Ash laughs louder this time, her head shaking from side to side. “Ridiculous,” she grins. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

“But, that’s not all! She left a note on my desk with a charge for her ‘services’,” Keegan throws his hands up for air quotes, only making Ash giggle harder.

“Well, did you pay her?” Ash asks, picking up her flour again.

There is a pause.

“…Yes,” Keegan grumbles and Ash can’t help chuckling to herself, pulling a bowl of the last strawberries closer. “This is mutinous. You’re showing blatant favouritism to someone outside this partnership. I’m pretty sure I could sue based on that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ash says and flicks flour at Keegan, watching Keegan duck to dodge getting any stains on his suit, setting her off giggling again.

Keegan turns to go back into his office, after a long death glare which Ash replied with a sarcastic blown kiss, but instead does a full circle to face Ash again. “Oh, meant to say, Chantelle and Gray vow renewals are next week, if you wanna come?”

“Oh, I- I thought that’d be a family event,” Ash replies, carefully, fingers frozen over a rotten berry.

Keegan doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Yes.”

Ash smiles at him. “I’d love to,” she says and watches Keegan smile back at her, his face like the setting sun.

He leaves and Ash touches the berry and watches it turn a glossy red, alive again like the rot had never existed.

 //

 This is how it is: Keegan has known Ash the longest. She remembers purple crayons and standing on stools with flour all over their face and staining their clothes while they watched Karen baked, babbling in a way that only seven-year olds can as Karen listened attentively.

They are all fuzzy memories, as though she is viewing them through rose-coloured glass, but she cherishes them all the same, cradles them in her heart like old relics of times when she felt sturdier on her two feet.

Some memories are clearer: her and Keegan, crouched over dead flies, a swatter in his hand and a stopwatch in her’s, her reaching out and touching one of the bugs and them watching in wonderment as it comes back to life, her finger pressing the stopwatch, timing how long she can do this, how long she can reanimate the dead. A minute later, a dragonfly dropped from the sky in front of them and Ash had turned to Keegan with wide eyes.

“This is-” Keegan said, face bright with child-like wonder, “Ash, you’re like a comic book character!”

She had grinned and they’d both ran inside his house, shouting happily to Karen that they had something cool to show her.

(Later, Karen would sit them both down and make them promise not to say anything about what Ash could do, that this had to be a secret between the three of them, and didn’t all superheroes keep their powers a secret, anyway? Just look at Superman, eh? Even later, Suki would scrub flour from Ash’s skin, and snipe about how she had ruined her clothes, tutting about how Ash couldn’t enjoy a cleaner hobby, like reading, just like she did when she was a girl.

But, for only a moment, there was only pounding feet, a rush of air in their lungs and their hands clasped together.)

 //

 “Got a job for you,” Dotty greets, tossing a folded sheet of paper onto the counter, not an hour after Keegan disappeared back into his office.

“You know, we invented the word ‘hello’,” Ash replies, exasperated with the company she keeps, not looking up from the dough in front of her. It’s sticking to her fingers and she reaches for more flour.

“Hello, I’ve got a job for you,” Dotty deadpans and Ash grins as she starts kneading.

“Bit busy here, what’s the job exactly?” Ash asks, gesturing with her bag of flour to demonstrate her point. Dotty scowls and picks up the sheet of paper.

“Middle-aged man turned up dead in the Thames, shot to death,” Dotty summarises, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Ash whistles and Dotty nods. “Exactly. Drama. And where there’s drama, there’s money.” She grins.

“My condolences to his grieving family of course,” Ash adds, giving Dotty a pointed look.

“Of course,” Dotty parrots. “His grieving, twenty-grand-paying family.” Ash raises her eyebrows, Dotty grins wider. “Drama,” she repeats.

“Well then, sounds eventful. Any witnesses?”

“Nope.”

Ash sighs. “Ah, never is. That’d be too easy, huh?”

Dotty waves a hand in front of her. “We don’t need easy. We have you and you’re – y’know,” she wriggles her fingers, spookily.

“Stop that,” Ash says, considering throwing a berry at her as she starts to fold her dough into a tin. “Also, did you re-arrange Keeagan’s files?”

“Yup,” Dotty replies, popping the ‘p’. “They were a mess and I refuse to let the company I keep be sub-par.”

“Right,” Ash chuckles. “And it has nothing to do with Keegan finding you your perfect office?”

“Yes,” Dotty replies, instantly. “And, also, I made him pay for my organisation, so. It’s not, a thank you or whatever.” Ash hums, unconvinced and Dotty scowls and turns her head to the side, staring at all the cutlery and plates stacked on one of the counters, her face flushing pink.

Ash takes pity on her and changes the subject. Dotty’s shoulders are getting too tense beneath that big woolly jacket she wears, the one that is several sizes too long so that it dwarves her frame, and Ash would rather be able to choose the music on their ride to the morgue. “Well, we can meet once The Pie Hole shuts at six, and head to the morgue, then?”

Dotty frowns and crosses her arms, face still a pale pink but Ash pretends not to notice.. “How come your bakery is more important than my detective business?”

“Because you can solve crimes without me, The Pie Hole can’t bake pies without me.”

“Then that just shows that you have a bad business model, doesn’t it?” Dotty smiles sweetly and Ash flicks some flour at her as well and watches Dotty duck the exact same way as Keegan did.

With a dirty look, Dotty heads towards the entrance. Ash doesn’t ask how Dotty got in considering the front door was locked and it’s five in the morning, simply assuming the answer is something that she can sleep better at night not knowing.

Ash goes back to kneading her dough and thinks about twenty grand and dead men.

 //

  This is how it is: Ash has powers. Well, a power. She can bring the dead back to life. There are rules and Ash spent most of her childhood figuring this out. One touch brings something back to life. Second touch, dead, forever. If someone is brought back for more than a minute, then something else dies, the balance of life and all that.

She uses it often now (in a way that some may view as cheating in the Private Eye business, but Dotty simply views as using the gifts given to you for good, though mostly money) but she remembers trying not to use it during her teenage years. She had felt like a god of death, the balance of deciding who should live and die a heavy weight on her shoulders but then –

(car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

there are always exceptions to be made.

 //

 There’s a loud crash in the sitting area and Ash sighs from the kitchen as she pulls a raspberry pie out of the oven.

“Sorry!” Bobby and Callum call and she sees them crouched over what used to be a plate when she comes through with a broom.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourselves,” Ash says, shooing them away and starts brushing up the mess.

“Sorry, Ash,” Bobby says, eyes wide and sad. “Callum was trying to get up and I bumped into him, you can take it out of my wages –”

“It was just as much my fault, I wasn’t paying attention, I’ll pay for it,” Callum interrupts, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s no one’s fault, it was an accident,” Ash says, gesturing to the now clear floor, the smashed plate all in her dustpan. “See? No harm done.” She can see them physically holding back from insisting again when she raises her eyebrow at them. “Well? Scatter.” She waves her broom at them mock-threateningly and watches Bobby smile weakly and turn to serve another customer whereas Callum lingers for a second. “Something up?”

Callum blinks. “Oh – sorry, it’s nothing, I just –” He sighs and sits back down in his stool at the front counter. Ash circles behind it to put the smashed plate in the bin and braces herself on the counter in front of him. He smiles at her weakly. “I have my job interview today and I’m scared I’m gonna screw it up.”

“Ah,” Ash says, nodding in understanding. “Well, listen, I’ve never met someone more qualified to be a paramedic, ok? So, just, deep breaths and trust yourself.”

Callum smiles at her. “Thanks, Ash. You’re a good friend.”

Ash smiles in return. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just speaking the truth, here. Also, you’ve saved me more than once. Nutmeg in my rhubarb pies? You really saved me with that.”

Callum chuckles bashfully and it’s a warm sound. “I-Well, it’s nothing. My mother, she-she made them like that.” He turns his head to the side, his fingers tapping restlessly on the counter.

“Well, she was a smart woman,” Ash says, expression soft when Callum glances over at her.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, she was.” They stay there, quietly, for a moment then he smiles at her again just before he leaves and when she looks down, she sees he’s left a five pound note on the counter, doubtless for the broken plate.

Ash smiles as she picks it up, already planning on giving Callum his next slice of pie for free.

 //

 This is how it is: Callum is a regular at The Pie Hole, his smile a constant companion to Ash whenever she places her pies in their display shelves, ready to be served.

He always orders a slice of apple pie and never leaves a tip less than three pounds, sometimes he leaves behind a napkin with a doodle on them of a dog on a skateboard and blushed down his neck when she’d asked about it, revealing that the dog was the main character in a comic he had made for his nephew.

(Ash had once forgotten her apron at The Pie Hole, and when she’d returned to get it in the small hours of the morning, she’d found Callum sat outside in the rain, his clothes soaked to his skin, clutching a baby’s blanket in his hands.

He’d stared at her blankly when she tried to speak to him but he went willingly when she dragged him into her bakery and sat him in a booth. She’d forced his hands around a warm cup of coffee in order to warm them up, but his grip was lax and so they sat with her hands cupped around his.

His skin had felt like ice and he only spoke once to murmur his nephew’s name before falling silent again and Ash had felt her heart in her chest splinter.

What was the point of having this power if she can’t save her friends from grief?

Callum doesn’t draw on the napkins anymore but he leaves bigger tips.)

  //

 The man on the table is dead, purple bruises stark against the placid white his skin has become. There are multiple holes in his chest. Ash checks the tag around his toe to avoid looking inside his grotesque wounds. Jack Branning, it reads. The name sounds familiar, but Ash can’t quite remember why. A horrid thought occurs to her, one where she might have once served this man at her bakery, might have known him when he was alive and now all she will remember is how he looked dead. It leaves goosepimples on her arms, even underneath her denim jacket.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, yeah?” Dotty says, folding her arms in front of her chest. There has been a time in which Dotty would have made comments and digs at the victims’ wounds but even she has tired of it, especially after one of the victims had been a girl who revealed she’d been stabbed to death by her father, something that had left her looking as white as the corpses surrounding them.

Ash glances at her watch and waits for hand to reach twelve before tapping Jack lightly on the shoulder. The result is immediate; Jack shoots up and stares at them in shock, eyes blinking too quickly and chest heaving with breaths he doesn’t need. He opens his mouth to speak, and no noise comes out, his hands reaching up for his throat, fingers pressing into the purple left on his skin.

Dotty groans. “Great, now we need to play twenty questions.” Ash can hear her rolling her eyes without having to turn around. This happens too often, sometimes the victim’s windpipe is so damaged that they can’t speak properly. Once, Dotty left after three cases in a row with strangulation involved and Ash heard her groaning and moaning the entire time it took her to leave the building.

“Was it a man or a woman?” Jack stares at her blankly, so Ash tries again. “Mr Branning, you were murdered. Was it a man or a woman who killed you?” He doesn’t answer, instead looking around the room, at all the other closed cases in the morgue. She wonders how jarring this must be for someone, she wonders if there actually is an after-life or if it feels like a second has passed between shutting your eyes and opening them again to two women making weird requests. This is not the time to think about such things though, so she tries a different question. “Jack? Where they young or older?”

He turns back and starts gesturing with his hands, miming writing something down. Ash hears Dotty scramble for her notebook and pen while Ash feels the clock tick tick ticking. There is one second left until the hand hits twelve again when Ash taps Jack on the shoulder again, his body collapsing into the table he’s on, his fingers bent over the notebook he’d scribbled onto.

“Well, let’s hope this is good, considering we’ve got fuck all else out of him,” Dotty mutters and reaches forward. Ash sees what’s written when Dotty brushes Jack’s fingers asides and takes her pen and notebook back.

One word. Mitchell.

 //

 This is how it is: Dotty is more wolf than girl, dressed in plaid pinafores or ripped jeans, always with that dark woolly coat thrown on, so big that you can only see the tips of her fingers poking out the sleeves. She kicks her feet lightly when she’s sitting down and bites her nails down to the quick and spins a thin ring around her pointer finger, all while grinning with teeth.

Dotty caught Ash one day, having just brought a stray cat back to life, and showed up at the front door of The Pie Hole the next morning with a glint in her eyes and a business proposition.

“Can you bring back people too?” She’d asked and Ash had only nodded. Her smile grew wider. “Well, I was just thinking about how much easier it would be to solve murders if the victims could up and sing, huh?”

(They’re a good team, Ash thinks. Dotty’s a neon light in your veins, a fast-paced race-track that stills beneath Ash’s fingers when she touches her, like a live-wire finally finding a fuse.

Dotty looks at her like that sometimes, when Ash calls her a friend, as if she’s just woken up, like she’s been dead this whole time and Ash brought her back with a simple word.

She falls asleep on Ash’s couch sometimes, drowning in that big coat, finger’s twitching on that ring, face soft with sleep.

Ash pulls her duvet into the living room and sleeps on the rug next to her, seized with the urge to not let Dotty be alone, even in her sleep.

Dotty’s never said anything about it, but she always lets Ash borrow her eyeliner the next day.)

 //

 The rain makes her skin feel numb, even under her clothes as they become soaked and stick to her. Ash wonders briefly if this is how Callum had felt, feeling out of his body, The Pie Hole sign a beacon glaring through the noise.

(It had been an inside joke, you know. The Pie Hole. Keegan had whispered it as a joke when they were ten and Ash had proposed they run a bakery like the one she had seen on holiday once, both of them curled up in sleeping bags on his living room floor.

It feels like a million years ago, memories of sliding around in socks and running down streets till the soles of her feet felt fuzzy, her lungs too big for her body.)

She’s not sure how much time passes, leaning up against the building across the road from her bakery, thinking about Keegan, and her mother, and bakeries, when –

there is a blare of light that illuminates a figure on the street, a silhouette, before a car crashes into it and the scream of the tires is so awful that Ash thinks she’s in the car herself (car, Kheerat, glass, bone, blood blood blood.)

She stays frozen before she throws herself forward on autopilot, barely processing that the car has sped away and left the silhouette on the road, folded in on itself, purely running on the sharp pain in her temples, the blood in her mouth, power buzzing beneath her skin, whispering you were born for this.

Ash turns them over and sees their face, blood trickling down the side of their head and coating their dark hair. She barely manages a gasp before her fingers touch the side of their face and sees their eyes snap open.

 //

 This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed, on her way home from work, crosses the road without looking up from a text from her sister, and gets hit by a car and dies on impact.

This is how it is: Iqra Ahmed wakes up a minute later, chest heaving and staring up at a blurry face that’s there and then gone. There is blood in her mouth and her bones feel like dust.

This is how it is: Ash Panesar is so fucking tired.

[wishingupontheskyandstars]

For Reylo Week 2020 

Day 1: Favorite Song Lyric or Quote 

Fanfic inspired by Quote: 

"Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.” 

– Rumi

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871826/chapters/57382366

Title: Together Always

Summary: In a new world and new life, Rey and Ben Solo, attend the same University and same class. They are drawn towards one another for reasons unknown... Until they happen to touch, revealing a part of themselves, from another life, another galaxy...

Part I

     Ben Solo couldn’t explain it, but there was something about her that was familiar. He observed her unique triple bun hairstyle that made him happy for a reason he didn't know.

The syllabus had just been thoroughly discussed and everyone was separated into small critique groups for their creative writing course at Coruscant University, in the heart of New Republic City. After a minute of awkward stares, making sure their desks were in a small circle, and wondering who should start first, she spoke.

"My name is Rey," she began. She went into a rhythm of tapping her fingers on her binder and making a fist as she spoke. She was nervous, Ben could tell. "I'm a first-year, major undecided, and—" She briefly looked at Ben and gave him a curious look before she looked away. "—I look forward to working with all of you this semester." She finished with a small grin and looked down at her clasped hands.

Rey heard her fellow students, Rose and Jacen, give their introductions, and for some reason, her chest quickened when she finally heard his voice. "I'm Ben—Political Science Major. This is my final year and I always wanted to take a writing course...So here I am," he finished with a shrug. Rey saw he made a fist like her and knew he must have been nervous as well. She stared at his almost shoulder-length dark wavy hair; she wanted to run her hands through it. Her daze was interrupted when Ben stared back at her, his look in curiosity as if he was trying to place her. The thing was, Rey was puzzled as she felt she saw this man before...Maybe in a dream? She shook looked away.

"Well, I suggest we get each other's email addresses so we can send each other our first short stories," Rose said, pulling a piece of paper and handing it to Jacen first.

As Jacen wrote, he mentioned, "I could send my story first. I've been wanting to get some feedback." He handed the paper to Rey.

"I'll go after you!" Rose exclaimed. She gave everybody a warm smile, making everybody in their group feel at ease.

Rey slid the paper across from her, towards Ben. They stared at one another until he looked away, taking the paper and writing his e-mail address. She looked around at her classmates and said, "I'll go after you, Rose."

"Awesome!" Rose said enthusiastically. She pointed at Ben. "That makes you..."

"Last--yup, I'm good." Ben nodded, looking at Rey and found she was staring at him, again. This time they smiled at each other before looking away.

Rose, seeing their exchange smiled as she said, "Also, I must say Rey, I love your hairstyle. It's so cute!"

"Oh," Rey touched her buns and gave a small shrug. "Thank you. It's something I've always done since I can remember."

"That's sweet," Rose said, nodding. "My sister Paige and I have these matching medallions from our hometown, Hays Minor. We've had them ever since we can remember too." Rose and Rey smiled at each other, in understanding. Rose nodded as Rey gently touched the medallion.

"It's beautiful." She took her hand away and saw both Jacen and Ben were staring at them. "Sorry, guess we got carried away there," Rey said.

Jacen shook his head. "No, it's cool." He gave them both a grin. "I also have a necklace from my hometown of Lothal, a town not far from here."

"I know that area...My father and I would go camping in the mountains; it's a beautiful area," Ben said as he ran his fingers through his hair. He moved his mouth back and forth.

Jacen nodded knowingly. "Right, every summer my parents and I go camping and explore. There's always a new area to discover."

Rey loved that the group was getting along. She had a good feeling about this.

Later, after a quick-write assignment, their professor dismissed them early, reminding them to upload their critiques of the first story online before attending class next week.

Rey put her desk back in line, behind another desk. She heard the room become louder with chatter as everybody was moving their desks back in place and leaving. She picked up her binder, accidentally knocking her pen to the ground. "Shoot," she whispered, as she quickly put her binder in her backpack.

"Here," Ben whispered as he waited for Rey to acknowledge him.

Her head immediately went up hearing his voice. "Thanks, Ben!" She smiled as she retrieved it. Their fingers barely touched as in one flash of a second she saw something like a vision or a memory of Ben smiling at her, his eyes closed. She looked at him quizzically then shook her head as she smiled at him again before turning away from him and walking towards the door. What was that she wondered.

Ben looked at Rey as she left the room. He looked down at his fingertips. He wondered if she saw what he saw, a glance of Rey smiling at him, but she looked tired and she had blood on the right side of her forehead. He didn't know what to make of it as he packed his things and left the classroom.

He walked outside the building and smelled Night-blooming jasmine. He closed his eyes, taking in the fragrance, reminding him of home. A subtle wind moved his hair as he opened his eyes and continued to walk.

He walked a block away from the University toward his favorite 24 Hour Coffee House, Green Milk. He opened the door and welcomed the dim lighting from Christmas lights displayed all around the walls, creating a comfy ambiance. The smell of coffee, tea, baked goods, and sandwiches made him sigh in relief as he waited in line to order. He looked around, trying to spot a free table until his eyes landed on Rey sitting at a small table reading a book.

Rey's shift at Green Milk started at 9:45. She was grateful that her last class of the week ended an hour early as she got started on her history reading. A few minutes into her reading she heard faint footsteps and then the voice that made her feel butterflies in her stomach. "Hi again, Rey," Ben said. He moved his mouth back and forth. "I was wondering if I could sit here? Other tables have been taken."

Rey looked around and saw the coffee house was indeed crowded. She looked back at Ben and said, "Of course." She moved her backpack from the chair and put it near her feet. She saw him remove his jacket, revealing the same black sweater he wore in class, fitting him quite nicely she thought. She moved her cup filled with tea near her as he sat across from her. Without him noticing, she looked as he took out his laptop from his sleek messenger bag. It was less than an hour and she still wondered what that image of Ben meant.

Ben noticed Rey stare past his shoulder with a determined look. "You okay there?"

Rey shook her head, freeing herself from that image. "Yes, just a long day. I don't know if this was smart of me, but I arranged it so that I have all my classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays." She shrugged.

"Well, I did the same thing."

"Really?" Rey raised a brow.

Ben nodded and took a bite of his blueberry muffin. "I have two early classes back to back then two evening courses, one on Tuesday and ours." He took a sip from his hot cocoa.

Rey sighed. "Good, then I must be on the right track."

"How has your first week been?"

Rey shrugged, opening her mouth then closing it, making Ben chuckle.

"That bad?" He asked.

"It's just overwhelming," she sighed.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "That's how I felt and as the semesters passed, I just fell into a rhythm. You'll find your rhythm soon enough."

"I hope so."

They both smiled at each other then looked down at their reading materials. Ben took another sip of his drink before asking, "Are you from the city?"

Rey shook her head. "Jakku."

Ben's brows furrowed. "That's in the middle of—"

"Nowhere," she finished. She rolled her eyes. "I know."

"I can understand why you wanted to attend University in the city now."

"I love it here. There's much to do and it's so lively." She closed her history book and put her shoulders on the table leaning towards Ben. "I never want to leave."

Ben nodded. "I'm sure your family misses you."

"They won't," she said with ease.

Ben furrowed his brows again and regretted his words. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"I never knew my parents." Rey looked down at her tea before looking up and staring into Ben's eyes. She felt she could trust him with this part of herself that she usually never revealed to anyone. "I remember being in an orphanage until I was about six." She smiled fondly at the small floral bouquet in the middle of the table. "An older man named Ben Kenobi adopted me. He had a wife and child once but lost them the same night when their child was born. Years later, he moved to Jakku from another isolated town to become the town's Reverend." She smiled and fidgeted with her hands, not staring at Ben but wondered how he was looking at her. She looked up and saw a genuine look of compassion and she was touched by it.

"What happened to him?" He asked in a soft tone.

"He passed away a year ago, yesterday," she revealed with a somber look. "He was the only parent I needed and I'm grateful we were a family." Rey smiled and felt a single teardrop on her left cheek. She wiped at it with a hand. "Didn't mean to get so emotional there."

Ben had his chin on top of his clasped hands. "It's okay, you're not alone in feeling those emotions."

Rey sniffled and drank more tea before she responded with a single word, "Good."

Ben was moved by her story. He took another drink from his cup when he heard her question. "Are you from here or...?"

Ben half-smiled before he responded. "I'm from Chandrila."

Rey's mouth formed an O. "Oh, I want to visit one day. It looks like a lovely area."

Bon nodded. "It is," he confirmed. "There are stunning beaches and the water is always calm; there are beautiful views of the hills."

Rey sighed as she drank more tea. "Sounds breathtaking."

"I also lived in Naboo, where my grandparents are."

Rey's eyes enlarged. "Another lovely area, wow, you're so lucky."

Ben half-smiled again. "I think my grandmother and mother love peaceful areas. They both were surprised that I wanted to study in the city rather at one of the Universities over there."

"They're very expensive."

"Yeah, but my grandfather lived in this city and my father too, for a time, and I just I don't know, wanted to start my adulthood here as well."

"I understand," Rey said. She crinkled her nose. "Chandrila and Naboo..."

"I hope you visit both one day." He stared at her in interest.

"Me too," she met his stare, wanting to talk more—She looked at her phone and saw it was almost time to get ready for her shift. "Well, it's time for me to get ready for work."

Ben gave her a quizzical look. "At this time?"

Rey laughed. "Don't worry. I work here."

"Oh," He gave a dry chuckle. "Do you usually work this late?"

"Just Thursday nights. I work normal hours tomorrow, Saturdays and Sundays."

"I see," Ben said as he saw Rey packing her things in her backpack.

She zipped it up and threw her backpack over one shoulder. She had her cup of tea in one hand and raised her other hand towards Ben. "I'm glad to know you better, Ben."

"Same here, Rey." He gave her a full smile as he reached to touch her hand with his. When they touched something electric passed through both of them, they both felt it as they saw different images, again.

Rey saw a snow-filled forest and Ben was staring at her in shock and awe, his hair disheveled. He was wearing a long black costume, covering his neck.

Ben saw a wintry forest, with snow falling, and Rey staring at him with confusion but also determination, wearing a sand-colored costume and arm wraps. In her hands was something he couldn't decipher until a blue hue appeared like a laser sword.

They released each other's hands at the same time and looked at each other in surprise and confusion. They both didn't know how to bring up what they saw and the momentary silence ended once Rey said, "Well, good night, Ben. See you next week." She smiled quickly before leaving and hearing his response.

"Night," Ben whispered staring where Rey was just seconds ago. He looked back and saw her going to the back of the coffee house. He turned back, feeling himself breath faster as he muttered, "What the fuck was that?" 

[whyamiinopmhellagain]

Ebina Misaki, One Punch Man OC!

I wanted to move her, so I did!

General

Full Name (Last, then First): Ebina ((蛯名), Misaki (美咲)

Meaning: Beauty Bloom

Nickname(s): Angel. Miss Optimist.

Reason for nickname(s): Her singing voice, and angelic personality. Her optimism.  

Given By: Her parents. Her classmates.

Age: 18 

Sex: Female

Gender: Female

Place of Birth: City Y

Birthday: 3/3

Currently living in: City Y

Species/Race: Human

Ethnicity: Japanese

Blood Type: B

Occupation: Student, cover artist

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Social Status: Middle Class

Relationship Status: Single

Status: Alive

Appearance

Body Build: Skinny and flat, like a bean pole.

Height: 1.91 meters (6’3”)

Skin colour: Pale

Hair style: Chin bob with bangs

Hair colour: Black

Eye colour: Brown

Distinguishing Features: Longer than average arms, smaller breasts.

Preferred Clothing: Deep blue t-shirts, long, black skater skirts, knee high socks, sneakers, backwards baseball caps.

Accessories: Black frame glasses.

Health

General health: Good, but needs glasses, because she’s nearsighted.

Posture: Good

Any physical illnesses?: No

Any mental illnesses?: No

Take drugs?: No

Smoke?: No

Mental/Emotional State

Archetype: ENFP-A (Campaigner)

Mental age: 23-28

Act before thinking/Think before acting?: A bit of both, depends on the situation.

Emotion-wise, generally: Pretty happy, overall!

Conversation

Way of speaking: Speaks at a normal volume and is very polite, until you get closer to her, then she becomes a bit more sarcastic and playful. She also gets a biiiit louder. Loves to talk.

Common conversation starter: Do you listen to…?

Swears?: Rarely, around her close friends.

Made-up words?: No

Made-up language?: No

Likes/Dislikes

Likes: Music, yoga, her friends, playing her instruments, makeup, singing, her fans/followers, social media, parties, making new friends, her parents, and her cram school teachers.

Dislikes: Her haters and trolls, doctor’s appointments, pretty much every academic class (except biology), and places with no service/wifi.

Hobbies

Playing/listening to music.

Browsing the internet

Interacting with her fans

Talking to people/going to parties

Going to get crepes

Doing her makeup

Skills/Abilities

Singing skills (Soprano, prefer higher notes, but can hit some lower ones in an alto range.)

Piano (Since she was 6)

Guitar (Since she was 8)

Drums (Since she was 13)

Songwriting (taken a few classes on it, written two songs, plans to write more.)

How to set up and use recording equipment.

Video editing skills.

How to take good insta selfies and write witty tweets, when needed.

Education/Intelligence

Education: Currently in High School with average grades (B’s and B-’s, except in her music classes), and a music cram school, where she is one of the best students there. She’s had pretty standard education through her life.

IQ: Pretty average (I don’t know the exact number for either.)

EQ: Higher than average.

Secrets

She wishes she was a little shorter and curvier, like a regular person, so she could be seen as “beautiful”. (Even though she already is.)

Thinks her biology teacher is hot.

Fears

That her friends will leave her.

That she’ll go deaf.

That her channel will fall apart

That a monster will destroy her and/or anything she cares about.

Dreams/Goals

To grow her channel. (She wants to hit at least 10,000 subscribers)

Write, publish and perform more songs.

Graduate high school and college

Get married.

Favorites

Food: Caramel fudge chocolate chip brownies!  

Colour: Royal Blue.

Animal: Snakes!

Holiday: New Year’s Eve.

Season: Spring.

Time of day: Dawn.

Thing to watch: Concerts.

Movie: “Pitch Perfect”

Show: “Meteor Garden”

Type of art: Music.

Genre of music: Too many, but Jazz, Classical and Metal to name a few.

Genre of literature: Not really a book person.

Genre of shows: Comedies

Genre of movies: Musicals

History

Misaki was adopted by her mothers when she was 6 months old. She was always a bit taller than everyone else, which caused her to be made fun of by the other kids. But, her bubbly personality made her more friends than enemies. She comes from a musical family, her free time mostly went to learning music with her moms. She was very chatty when she was younger, and enjoyed talking to new classmates, and playing with other kids. She also loved to show off her skills in music, and didn’t really care if she messed up. She started sharing her talents and skills with the world when she was 16, she started posting covers online, and she has been devoted to the channel ever since. But, as cool as it is to have a lot of friends, and even fans, she’s beginning to feel a bit lovesick, and wants someone to hold her at night.

Personality

Misaki is a woman dedicated to her dreams and future, her family, her future spouse and her friends, in that order. She enjoys being around other people, and LOVES to talk. She is always looking for the best in people, and the silver lining, even in the darkest storms. She likes to go to parties, but not to be bad, because she enjoys the company of other people. Music is Misaki’s life. She could sit for hours listening to her favorite songs, and spend hours more playing them. She’d rather listen to music than socialize, but she will get lonely eventually. She always gives second chances, even if some would say it’s undeserving. She loves to always busy herself with doing something, whether it be doing some yoga, learning a new make-up look, or just jamming out to some Metallica. School doesn’t really interest her either, and would much rather spend her time with music. Her channel is her baby, and will slack off in school, in order to make sure it’s perfect. Rest assured, she does put a fair amount of effort into her homework, and won’t slack off on group projects. Her room is fairly messy, but she says it’s part of the creative process.

Tl;dr:

Determined

Optimistic

Social

Creative/musical

Messy

Restless

Loud

Trusting, to a fault

Relationships

Family: Misaki has two moms that she loves very much. Youko is her school’s choir instructor. She helps her learn her vocal parts, pick songs to suit her voice, and helps write her arrangements, if need be. Misaki does most of that by herself now, but mama’s always there to help! Kanna is a stay-at-home mom, with a large resume in musical theatre. They are both fiercely protective of her, and proud of her, for working her butt off to achieve her goals!

Love interest: None, yet ;) But, feel free to let me know about some potentials!

Friends/Allies: She has a strong social circle in her cram school, and at her regular school. She’s a friendly person, and wants to meet and get to know as many people as she can! But, some friendships depend on the universe:

She’s in the same history class as Metal Bat. They don’t really talk much, because he’s not in class super often.  They’re on good terms, they just don’t talk too much. She sometimes fills him in on lessons he missed, and attends the same cram school as Zenko. Her friends are mostly in her cram school, but she has some friends in school as well.

Misaki has piano lessons with Zenko every Thursday evening at her cram school. The two of them have a pretty normal student/teacher relationship. Zenko is an avid viewer of her channel, though, and is willing to help her with her piano lines. Sometimes she runs into Gaman in the hallways, and they are in the same biology class. They also take music lessons together, when the cram school is having a performance. She knows that the two of them are related, and she’s friendly to both.

Enemies: There are a few people that make nasty comments on the way she looks, and her internet haters, but that’s it.

Quotes:

“No, I do not play basketball.”

“Mom, I can’t get this chord. Can you help?”

“I’m recording right now!”

Trivia

She has a little under 2,000 followers on Twitter, where she gives updates about her videos.

She owns a beat up, 1960s, cherry red pickup truck, but she normally walks everywhere.

She has a light brown pet ball python, named Udon.

——-

Talk to me people, tell me what you think.

[madlori]

Unveiled Chapter 5

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Epilogue

by MadLori Word Count: 2500 Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin Rating: NC-17 (like, heed this, please) Tags: Arranged Marriage, Modern Royalty AU, Mpreg, Not Omegaverse, No Consent Issues, Veiled Sex, Weird Traditions, Don’t Think Too Hard, Handwavey Biology

Definitely sex in this one.

Read it on AO3

Just before lunch, Dr. Rjskov came to Zhenya’s office. “It’s about His Highness, sir.”

Zhenya jumped up. “Is he all right?”

“He’s quite well. But his best fertility window is closing for the month. I thought you should be advised. It is of course up to you and your husband how you conduct your relationship, but he’ll be unlikely to conceive as of this afternoon.”

“This...afternoon?”

“Yes, I advised His Highness that his hormones were shifting last night, and that they’d reach their baseline levels around lunchtime today.”

“Ah.” Zhenya sat down, feeling a little deflated. That explained the surprise morning sex. His consort had wanted one last try for a conception before his fertility window closed. It had nothing to do with any thirst he had for Zhenya’s cock. “Thank you for the update, Doctor. You’ll advise us when his fertility window reopens?”

“Of course, sir. About three weeks.” He bowed and excused himself.

Zhenya sat there for a few minutes, staring down at his desktop, littered with the latest notes and suggestions from his consort’s perusal of the memos and white papers he’d gotten from Seryozha. He got to his feet, grabbed his coat and strode out of the office.

A walk. That was a fine idea. That’d set him to rights.

It was sort of working, too, until he took a turn around the athletic fields and came upon the consort and his guards in the lower rugby pitch. They were engaged in some kind of hand-to-hand combat training and, to his surprise, his husband was participating in it.

The guards were all clad in black training gear; a variety of pads, weapons and training aids were scattered in the grass. His stomach clenched; his consort was sparring with Sidney. Because that was just what he needed -- to watch a karmic re-enactment of his inner turmoil.

Sidney was shirtless, his muscled torso shining with sweat and his hands and wrists wrapped. Zhenya’s consort was wearing the same training kit the other guards were wearing, with the addition of...well, he wouldn’t have thought there was such a thing as an athletic veil, but there seemed to be. These gray veils looked to be lighter weight than his usual ones but were still opaque, and they were fastened to his clothing at strategic points to prevent them from flying up and exposing him when he moved quickly. The sides were shorter, to let his arms move freely, but his torso was still covered.

Zhenya lurked in the shadows near the gear shed and watched, feeling like a creeper. Letang was directing the sparring, and neither Sidney nor the consort seemed to be holding anything back. He watched as they moved quickly around each other, hands and feet flashing, his consort’s veils billowing around his head. Sidney was laughing, and Zhenya suddenly realized that his consort was, too. Of course, he wouldn’t be aware that Zhenya could hear him. It would be improper for him to continue to observe in secret.

He stepped out of the shadows and approached, telling himself that he had every right to walk on the grounds of his own palace. His consort saw him and abruptly drew back, causing Sidney to turn around to see what had gotten the consort’s attention. He grinned -- dear God, that smile. Zhenya forced himself to look only at his consort as he nodded to him and the rest of the group.

“Your Royal Highness, good morning,” Fleury said. “We were just sparring. We’re all feeling like we need some exercise.”

Zhenya nodded. As long as his consort was present, he was prohibited from speaking, a fact that Fleury seemed to abruptly remember. “Of course. Uh...your Highness, perhaps Kris should escort you back to the palace.”

The consort waved to him; Zhenya waved back as Letang and another of the guards (his name started with J...was it Justin? Jeff?) flanked him and they walked back up the hill. 

The other guards were gathering up the pads and gear. “If you’ll excuse us, sir, we should return to our duties.” Fleury bowed and followed Kris, the rest of the guards save Sidney trailing behind him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your exercise,” Zhenya said.

Sidney shrugged, unwinding the tape from his hands. “We got in a good hour. He was feeling restless.”

“Were you going easy on him?”

“Did it look that way?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“He doesn’t need me to. He’s a good fighter. Almost as good as me,” he said, winking. “Then again, I taught him everything he knows.”

Zhenya shoved his hands in his pockets. “I keep stumbling over skills my husband possesses which I do not.”

“You could learn. I’ll teach you.”

“I’m a bit old to learn new tricks.”

“Ah yes, so old. What are you, twenty-seven?”

“Suck-up. I’m thirty-one, as you well know.”

“I’m thirty. Do I seem infirm to you?”

He couldn’t help it, his eyes crawled down Sidney’s absolutely not-infirm body. “No.”

“You’re in good shape, I’ve seen you running on the grounds.”

Zhenya swallowed hard at the thought of Sidney watching him run. “I do have a concern about my consort engaging in this kind of exercise. It’s too early for us to know, but he very well could be pregnant. Given how much effort we put into getting him that way, a stray blow to the stomach seems like a big risk. It could jeopardize everything.”

Sidney’s jaw tightened a little. “Isn’t that his call to make?”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I have some input as well.”

Sidney kept his eyes on his tape-unwinding. “Perhaps he didn’t think about that. I’ll remind him. There are ways we can spar that wouldn’t pose a danger.” He met Zhenya’s eyes. “He’d no more want to endanger a pregnancy than you would, that much I know.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“He’s…” Sidney pulled on his shirt and shouldered his bag. “I think he might be frustrated that the fertility window is up today.”

“I’ve been advised. I’m surprised he’d share that with you, if you’ll pardon me saying so.”

“There isn’t a lot we don’t share between us. All of us. We’re the only ones he can really be free with. For the time being.”

“Of course.” They started walking back toward the palace. “I admit I don’t really know what to do now. I’d be disappointed not to see him for three weeks.”

“You mean not to sleep with him.”

“Only in part.”

“You think he would want to stop until the next window?”

“I have no idea what he wants.” Zhenya couldn’t believe he was discussing what was a private matter between him and his consort with a man who he could no longer deny he was wildly attracted to. “If our goal is his fertilization, why would he wish to continue?”

Sidney laughed. “You have strange ideas about consorts. The veil doesn’t turn off his libido. He’s a human, Zhenya. Of course he’s going to want to keep having sex. He has an attractive partner available to him on demand. Why wouldn’t he keep partaking of that?”

Zhenya had stopped walking and just stood there, blinking. “You think so?”

He looked back, amusement in his eyes. “I’m kind of amazed I have to tell you that.”

His mind was rewinding Sidney’s statement. “You think I’m attractive?”

A flush bloomed on Sidney’s cheeks. “Just quoting the consort.”

“Oh.” Zhenya hesitated. “He thinks I’m attractive?”

“Quit fishing for compliments,” Sidney said, laughing.

Zhenya resumed walking at Sidney’s side. “You called me Zhenya.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

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

Zhenya did not receive an appointment confirmation card that afternoon, to his dismay. What he did receive was another knock on his door later that evening, after he had retired to his chamber. He nearly injured himself leaping off the bed and dashing to respond.

He barely had the door shut behind him before his consort was undressing him again, but this time Zhenya intended to make his own plans. He slid his hand around the consort’s waist and down to cup his ass, pulling him tight to his chest. His other hand dipped between the consort’s legs to grasp his stiffening cock. He gave it a few strokes, staring down at his husband’s veiled face and wishing he could see his eyes, and then Zhenya dropped to his knees before him. He heard a quiet sigh from above that turned into a surprised gasp when he swallowed him down, allowing himself the pleasure of grabbing two large handfuls of his backside. He felt hands grip his hair and the consort rocked forward into his mouth. Zhenya pulled back a little and tugged at his hips, hoping to communicate to him that yes, that was what he should do. The consort got the message and began to fuck his mouth, cautiously at first and then with more vigor as Zhenya encouraged him with tugs and strokes and glances up at his veiled face. He slipped one hand between the consort’s legs and found him wet; Zhenya slid two fingers into his pussy and stroked him, eliciting more strangled gasps and groans from above. His fingers wet, he moved them back to his ass, circling the entrance for a moment to give him time to object, and when no objection came, slid one, then two inside.

That pushed his partner right over the edge. He grunted and came hard down Zhenya’s throat. Zhenya pulled off and stroked him through it, his consort’s whole body quivering. His husband dropped to his knees and let his veiled head fall to Zhenya’s shoulder; he was limp dead weight in Zhenya’s arms. Zhenya grinned, pleased with this result. 

The consort’s hand wandered to Zhenya’s still-hard cock, a clear offer to assist him, but he moved it away. He guided the consort to the bed -- all he wanted right now was to jerk off all over that magnificent ass. Somehow through a mixture of gestures and touches, this was communicated between them, and his husband laid himself out very appealingly on the bed, back arched and legs spread to present his rear to its best advantage. Zhenya knelt between his spread legs and quickly fisted his cock. His consort reached back with both hands to spread his cheeks wide, his head turned so he could watch Zhenya over his shoulder. Zhenya groaned and spurted his come over the round cheeks and his consort’s exposed hole. After a few moments’ recovery, he picked up one of the many towels placed around the bedchamber by the long-suffering palace attendants and wiped his partner clean, or as clean as could be achieved in this moment.

The consort turned on his side, propping his head on an elbow as if contemplating this prince he’d married. Zhenya smiled, indicating his sleepiness with a fake yawn. The consort shifted again, moving to his back and leaning his shoulders against the copious pillows on the bed. He arranged his veils, held out his arms and beckoned with his fingers. A thrill ran up Zhenya’s spine -- was he being invited to stay with him, here? It certainly seemed so.

He crawled up the bed into the waiting, veiled arms of his husband of six days and nestled his head down in the hollow of his shoulder, draping his body across the partially hidden one beneath him. His consort’s arms came up around him and held him; peace stole across his mind and ushered him quickly into sleep.

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

“You’re in a good mood.” Sidney said, casting his line over the lake with a practiced flick of his wrist. Zhenya had started out fishing, but had given it up and was now just lounging on the dock with an ale, watching Sidney fish and absolutely not admiring the flex of his legs and back when he cast.

“I slept well.” Indeed, in his consort’s arms he had slept better than he had in months. They’d both slept like the dead and woken up slowly, touching each other awake in the dim morning light and having gentle, drowsy sex before either of them were fully alert, his husband’s body warm and welcoming, twined around him like a climbing vine. Zhenya could still feel the smooth tightness of the consort’s pussy as he’d fucked him, one of his legs hooked over Zhenya’s forearm, his hands gripping Zhenya’s shoulders and pulling him in, urging him deeper.

“Well, that’s good. Everyone needs sleep.”

Zhenya hesitated, but it seemed silly now to turn reticent. Sidney seemed to always know everything, anyway. “You were right about the consort. He still wants to have sex with me.”

“Oh, for sure. Who wouldn’t?”

“I keep waiting to find out what you’re buttering me up for.”

“You’re going to be King, isn’t that enough?” he said, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk. “Doesn’t everyone suck up to you?”

“My staff don’t seem to have gotten that memo, and my friends seem to actively do the opposite.”

Sidney kept casting. “Just out of curiosity, why aren’t you the one trying to get pregnant?”

“It’s the custom. I’m the royal one.”

“The kid would be half you either way.”

“True. This is just the way it’s done. If I’d been married off to a prince and gone to another country to be his consort, I’d be the one getting knocked up.” Zhenya frowned. “Does he resent that?”

Sidney shrugged. “Not that he’s mentioned. He always talked about wanting kids. I don’t think he cared if he was going to be the one carrying them or not.”

“Tradition encourages the consort to carry the first one, but nothing’s to stop me from carrying a second one, should we decide to have another. It would be unusual, but it’s not forbidden. Maybe we could trade off.”

“Seems fair.”

“I’m glad he wants children, and it’s not just duty. It’s nice when arranged marriages aren’t entirely abhorrent.”

“He always knew he’d have one -- an arranged marriage, I mean. He tried to look at it as a way to contribute.”

“Well, he’s certainly done that.” Zhenya got up and joined him on the shore. “Why do we always talk about him?”

“He’s what we have in common.”

“Is that all?”

Sidney looked at him. “I hope not.”

“Tell me about where you grew up. Your childhood.”

He grinned. “You don’t want to hear about my stupid kid escapades.”

“Well, now I want to hear about them more.” He watched Sidney’s face flush and brighten as he began to recount a wild tale about his best friend Marc-Andre and a runaway toy wagon, and wondered why on earth he continued to torture himself.

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