#the reason why people are so skeptical when receiving compliments

[elysiansparadise]

Hi, hope you're good 💚

So I read a post about you doing avoidant attachment placements in a chart and I have Saturn in a water sign(Pisces) and I have experienced somewhat of what you wrote. Anyway, my ask is about this. Often avoidant attachment people can't really accept a compliment, as in, like if you say something nice about them. They would try and dodge that compliment.

So I was wondering if there are any placements in a chart that indicate the inability to accept a compliment or the lack of taking compliments without questioning if they are true or fake.

I hope it all made sense for you. I'd love your take on it.

Thank you, lots of love 💖💖

Hello love! It did make sense and I would love to give you my take on it! Thanks for suggesting it. 🤎

Inability to accept compliments

🟤Saturn-Sun/Ascendant/Moon square, opposition or conjunction. Saturn's toughness and exactingness is pronounced with tense aspects, especially with any of the big three. In the eyes of these natives, they may not be doing a good enough job to deserve credit or words of encouragement. In terms of their personality or appearance, they feel they can be better. And it is that from an early age people could either expect too much of them or make them feel that they could not achieve much, which could trigger these kinds of thoughts and feelings.

🟤Pluto-Sun/Ascendant/Moon square, opposition or conjunction. These natives, as confident as they seem, constantly doubt themselves and their abilities. They often find it hard to believe that someone is serious when people give them a compliment or congratulate them on a job well done. Like the previous ones, they can be quite demanding with themselves, which gives them that mindset of "I know that I can achieve more and I must achieve more, this is not enough."

🟤Saturn in the water signs or houses: I totally agree with your observation. But why do we put these natives on this list? Let's remember that Saturn indicates restrictions. of things that we feel limiting in our life, while the element of water speaks to us mainly of our emotional world. These natives may have had a small amount of affection in their childhood, rarely hearing words of reassurance, compliments or just words of encouragement. This makes them feel strange at the thought of someone showing them how positive they are in their eyes.

🟤Saturn in the 5th house/making hard aspects with the 5th house ruler. The 5th house is characterized as one of the representative houses of the ego, so I have noticed that our reaction to compliments can be partially represented with this house. Saturn has a limiting effect on many occasions, and this is no exception. And it is that the person many times questions their efforts and if they really deserve what people tell them, or even if they can believe it. They are people who do not fully express themselves, so they fear that people will know who they really are and not like what they see.

🟤Saturn in the 2nd house. The constant questioning in their heads about their value as a person is what causes this kind of skepticism about the compliments that other people give them. In their eyes they either don't deserve it or they aren't enough. Here we find ourselves with the possibility of having self-esteem problems and feeling an excess of frustration when situations of failure arise, a frustration that gives rise to constant self-reproach.

🟤Capricorn/Aquarius Moon. The reason I put them together is because they are ruled (co-ruled in the case of Aquarius) by Saturn. These people may have felt in their childhood a lack of appreciation or recognition regarding their achievements, which causes not knowing how to react when receiving this type of affection. The lack of appreciation and the huge focus on what they needed to change or what they needed to improve leads them to constantly set very high standards and not be entirely happy with what they do.

🟤Gemini Moons: They tend to constantly question the level of affection that others give them. Being a Luna ruled by Mercury, they tend to overthink all the nice gestures or comments that others say about them. They are skeptical of what others say about them and often think they could do better.

🟤Virgo Placements. These natives are quite perfectionists and demanding with themselves. Sometimes it seems that they do accept your compliments, but internally they can differ quite a bit and have difficulty trusting that you are being honest. They are always looking for ways to improve and although they do not say it openly, they hope one day they will be able to be really proud of themselves enough to accept some love.

🟤Neptune in the angles. This is interesting. Something that happens a lot to these natives is that they tend to have many doubts about who they really are, not only those around them, but themselves. This makes them question whether the person is really complimenting them or their idea of ​​the native. They are not usually seen as the most deserving of people's compliments, and this low perception of themselves makes them react strangely to a wave of compliments.

I usually try to keep it professional and go straight to the point when I do these types of posts, but I have been there too guys and trust me, you deserve each of those compliments. No matter what a few cruel people told you before or how harsh that little voice in your head is, you do deserve them. Have a wonderful day.

~Ellie.

[peachyysugaa]

troublemaker

― dancer youtubers!lee heeseung x gn!dance major!reader

sparks fly when the top two dancers on youtube collab!

genre: slow-burn fluff, s2l

wc: 3.9k (omg i'm sorry) + 2 twitter pics

warnings: probably some wrong dance terminology, slightly suggestive (the dance is just 😳), short timeskip, it's cheesy please bear with me

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the fifth upload! feel free to read on its own~ ♞──────────────────────────♞

you finish off your last move with your arms wide open, your chest heaving up and down from lack of breath. smiling nevertheless, you know you absolutely love the feeling of getting your breath taken away after dancing because you know it meant you did your best. you walk towards the camera lens and peek at the comments through your open laptop.

"did you all enjoy that?" you ask breathlessly grinning. the flooding comments are filled with compliments from your cover of nct u's boss. however, one comment, in particular, caught your eye as others seemed to reply to it.

heeseung ✔ 2s ago wow that was amazing do you wanna do a collab sometime? 😊

line break insurance you've failed me 5x already

your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. "is that the lee heeseung?" you accidentally say out loud. you wince at the realization of your mistake. the comments are both praising you for your success in getting noticed by the other top dancer on youtuber and relating to your remark.

heeseung ✔ 3s ago haha yes it's me dm me if you want to hear more about it 🤍

"oh wow... this is really cool..." you state before blinking to get you out of your stupor. "well everyone, that's going to be all for y/n's motion of dance today! thank you so much for tuning in, love you!"

you wave goodbye for a few more moments and then shut off the broadcast, closing your laptop as soon as you do. you blink twice and suddenly let out a scream.

you stop with a gasp and cover your mouth with your hands because you cannot believe you forgot that your dance studio isn't the most soundproof of places. "sorry, other dance students..." you whisper to them but more for yourself.

taking a look around your escape, your passion, you can't believe you've made it to where you are, being praised as one of the top dancers on such a vast social media platform like youtube. if anything, you guess it runs in your family, after all, you are related to choi yeonjun, who is considered 4th gen's it boy.

though people were skeptical of you at first when you came on the youtube scene as a dancer after your older brother started taking more to modeling and acting, you quickly proved them wrong by showing them your talent and bloomed from then on. of course, you can't forget to mention the person who skyrocketed just around the same time as you.

and that was the aforementioned lee heeseung. you sigh as you finish packing up your clothes and things to head back to your dorm, glancing out the window to see the sun beginning to set. it seems today was a rare early finish for you.

"i could go for a coffee... i need to finish my classics essay anyway," you mumble to yourself, throwing your bag over your shoulder before hitting the showers and changing into a more casual set of clothes. the finishing touch is a baseball cap that sits snug on your head. tightening the strap on the back and grabbing your backpack and dance bag, you finally take your leave of your beloved dance studio and return the key on the way out. fresh air meets your face, allowing you to take a whiff of the cherry blossoms that have been blooming for a month or so as you make your way to the campus café.

ding ding, the coffee shop's calm doorbell welcomes you as your nose is hit by the sweet smells of freshly ground coffee beans. "welcome!" one of the servers calls at the counter, smiling at your figure that walks closer to order. "what can i get you?"

"hi, may i have..." you scan the menu quickly for a familiar drink. "a honey cinnamon iced latte please?"

"of course, name please?"

"choi y/n," you reply.

if they recognize you, they don't make any notion of it, simply scribbling your name on the plastic cup as you make your payment. you're grateful for the normal interaction and the peacefulness of the café, especially after a surprising stream. "i'll call you when your order's ready, choi y/n-ssi," they inform you with a warm grin.

"thank you," you smile back before going to find a seat. spotting a relatively private area close by with only a pair of boys sitting at the booth, you decide to take the booth two spaces away from them. one boy, you notice, sits taller than the other, but his face is covered by a baseball cap. the other looks like a freshman, his cheeks accentuated by a pair of deep dimples.

as you take your seat, you can't help but think the boy with dimples looks rather familiar but can't seem to place your finger on it. shrugging, you simply begin preparing to write your essay by taking out your laptop and notes from your classics ge. the moment you finish is when you hear your name being called.

"choi y/n-ssi, your honey cinnamon iced latte," the server's voice calls. on your way to receive your awaiting drink, you can finally hear the voices of the two boys sitting two booths down from you.

"did your crush just say choi y/n?" the one with the hat says.

'yes, that's me,' you think to yourself nonchalantly.

"weren't you just watching their stream, heeseung hyung?" another voice says as you pick up your latte and thank the server.

wait, heeseung? as in lee heeseung? it's when you turn around with your drink in hand that you notice the two males looking straight at you. now you're able to make out the features of the boy with the cap, and there's no mistaking it.

"lee heeseung?" you mutter out loud at the same time he speaks out yours.

well, maybe that wasn't what you were expecting today, but hey, life is full of surprises, even if they are one after the other for you. after that unexpected encounter, you and heeseung acquainted yourselves, he invited you to sit with them, and now you're sitting at their table, awkwardly sipping on your latte.

"right, so should i leave?" the other boy, who you found out is studytuber and vlogger yang jungwon (which is why he looked familiar to you), blurts out. you chuckle as heeseung shakes his shoulder lightly. "what? you two clearly have to talk about something, i need to study."

"yea, yea, lover boy. make sure you say bye to your crush on the way out," the male dancer teases, causing the younger one to turn bright red.

"don't call me that, hyung," he mutters before picking up his bag and leaving the booth. sure enough, you watch as jungwon passes by the counter and erupts into a nervous mess the moment the server beams at him.

"ah... so he likes them?" you think out loud.

"yup, it's been almost four months now. i'm the reason he even knows this cafe and that server exists," heeseung mentions, making you nod courteously. he turns his attention back to you with his hand placed under his chin. "but their relationship is besides the point. let's talk about us."

"d-did you have to put it that way?" the forwardness catches you off-guard, and you suddenly have a harder time swallowing a sip of your coffee.

"sorry," he says with a teasing smile. "i just think the collab i mentioned would be good for both of us, and it'll be really fun too."

"i agree, people who like you will come to me and vice versa," you nod. "but do you know what we would be dancing to?"

"so does that mean you're in?" he asks, smile starting to grow on his face. wordlessly, you roll your eyes and hold out your hand for him to shake. that's when his full smile comes out, causing your cheeks to heat up as you think about how much more handsome it makes him look. taking your hand, heeseung shakes it with his vigorously. "alright, dance partner, we have a deal."

after much deliberation and research, the two of you finally agree on troublemaker by the duo hyuna and hyunseung. heeseung suggested this song, stating that he always wanted to do the choreo with somebody and that it's destiny that both males have a name that starts with h and ends with seung. quite frankly, it's not like you could find much anyway, besides some cool music bank mc stages, it is cool that troublemaker was originally an opposite-gender duo in the korean entertainment industry.

the choreography however is an entirely different story. at many points, hyuna's body is touched by hyunseung and vice versa, but if they can do it and stay professional, then you believe you can too. besides, dancing will always be just dancing. heeseung also assures you that if you want, the two of you can just have your hands hovering, which makes you feel relieved to have an understanding partner.

hours pass by, and you and heeseung decide to meet at your usual dance studio daily after all your classes, which wasn't hard because he also frequented the same one.

"i still can't believe we attend the same university," you say aloud as the both of you pack up your laptops and supplies.

"i know right, you would think one of us would recognize the dance studio we go to 24/7, right?" he laughs. "although, i've seen you use a different one sometimes."

"do you really watch my covers and streams often?" you ask baffled. he and you wave the workers goodbye and make your way to the brisk evening air waiting outside as the staff sends you off.

"i do, is that so hard to believe?"

"a little," you reply sheepishly.

"well, let me walk you to your dorm and prove to you how much of a choi y/n stan i am," he boasts, and you let yourself laugh freely as you walk beside him to your destination.

it's strange, knowing a famous youtuber you watched also knew and followed you, but then again, you're not exactly nobody either. when heeseung drops you off, he admits that he actually lives a few floors above you and that you two can walk home together after each rehearsal. it's even stranger, knowing a famous youtuber literally has been on your campus, in the same dorm building as you, and this whole time, the two of you have both been clueless as to the other's existence as an ordinary college student.

speaking of which, he can't be a dance major, right? otherwise, you would've already seen him! these thoughts keep you tossing and turning to the point you don't register when you fell asleep. when you wake up, you feel as if you didn't get any sleep at all, but get up and ready nevertheless, going through another regular day as a dance major.

by the time your classes are over, you walk out of the studio yawning about to stop by your dorm to freshen up and maybe fit in a nap. you're holding a hand over your mouth mid-yawn when a voice starts talking to you.

"good thing i stopped by to get coffee." you open your eyes and close your mouth to see lee heeseung holding two cups of coffee. he's dressed in an oversized white shirt and grey sweatpants, a common dance practice outfit, so why is your heart skipping so many beats. "yo, choi y/n."

"heeseung," you say, still shocked. he hands you the coffee, which is actually the same flavor you got yesterday. "thanks."

"no problem," he replies coolly. "maybe we should take a break before we get to it?"

"i'll be fine, how about we can start watching the choreo?"

"they're always ready to dance," he nods with an impressed smile. "as expected of a dance major."

the two of you walk inside and book a studio for a few hours as you raise an eyebrow at him. "wait, what major are you?"

"music production."

"that makes so much sense!" you say relieved, stepping into the studio room for the umpteenth time. "i was racking my brains wondering what major you were."

"so the famous choi y/n is curious about me?" he smirks. you groan and facepalm in response. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding. let's watch the video on my tablet?"

nodding, the two of you watch carefully, eyes glued to the screen at your respective roles. you hold your breath at some touchy parts but also notice that both idols were able to shine in their solos.

"a few tweaks here and there, and it'll be perfect," heeseung comments once the video is over. "but let's go over some boundaries, yeah? let me know what you're comfortable with and what you're not."

"right," you agree, once again relieved to have such a safe and understanding partner like him. "well, i think i'm okay with you touching my arms, shoulders, and hips like hyunseung did to hyuna. i just need some time to get used to it."

"alright, that sounds good," he says nodding with a hand under his chin. "then for today, i'll just hover my hands over the places they need to be."

"what a gentleman," you tease.

he rolls his eyes playfully at you. "let's start marking."

and so that's what the two of you start on. with the video on the tablet, you go through the motions with the speed lowered, eventually picking up more moves until you're able to follow at the normal speed. as expected of the top two dancers on youtube, the two of you are quick on observing and learning the dance and get done with basic marking within 20 minutes or so.

after marking, you take a quick water break to watch the video again in full detail, officially beginning your first real practice. as promised, throughout the entirety of marking, heeseung has kept his hands to himself, but you've become comfortable enough to have him do a little more.

before you start practicing for real, you decide to speak with him. "hee," you call him as he puts down his water bottle.

"hm?" he confirms that you have his attention, looking up with his large doe-like eyes while wiping his mouth off from some excess water.

"uhm.." you fidget with your top a little before mustering up some courage. "you can do light touches now for the choreo."

"really? are you sure?" you nod at his question, causing him to come up to you and ruffle your hair lightly. you bat his hands away with a pout, smoothing out the mess he made as he laughs at you. "that's great, y/n," he says with a bright smile, unknowingly making your heart beat a little faster as you nod again. in your head, you rush to cover up the physical reaction with an excuse that it's just from the amount of exercise you've done.

the two of you stand in front of the mirror, ready to go. before the music starts, heeseung turns to you and says, "just let me know if i make you uncomfortable at all."

"i'll be fine," you reassure him with a small smile. that's when the song begins, and the sparks start to fly. every move flowed like water, yet every touch between the two of you was like electricity as if the two elements were working together instead of fighting. even though the touches are light, they still put chills up your spine, in a way that you can only describe with the phrase "meant to happen."

was fate moving its course to put this match together, or were you imagining it? you're not sure, but you grin while catching your breath once the first practice is over. falling to the floor softly, you sit with your hands splayed behind you and let out a relieved sigh. "ahh... dancing is so... great!"

heeseung chuckles at your reaction and offers a hand to get you up. "i'm glad you think that because we got a lot more practice ahead of us, partner."

"yup!" you say with a widening smile. the moment you took his hand, you felt an electric jolt that almost made you let go. getting up, you shake it off and barely catch the expression on your dance partner's face. "is something the matter?"

he blinks a bit before he's shaking his head with that charming smirk of his. "nope! let's practice!"

practice, practice, practice. that's how the next few hours go. and just like the day before, heeseung walks you to your dorm building, this time the conversation about how excited the two of you are for the recording.

that's basically how the next four or so days go, now that heeseung came into your life. your daily routine of wake up, eat, class, dance, repeat was shaken by him, because now he was a part of it. it's an indescribable feeling, hanging out with him. the best word, or phrase actually, is the same one you used while dancing with him: meant to be.

so when you finally get to the day of recording, you almost don't want it to end. at least, that's what you're telling your best friend and makeup artist, kim sunoo.

"friend, you're telling me that you and this guy have been following along to..." he tells you to look up as he curls your eyelashes. "a dance like that for four days and you've been getting shocks this whole time?"

"i mean, yeah?"

"y/n, i love you, but you're missing a little something, aren't you?"

"wha-!?"

"pucker up, sweetie, we're making your lips look kissable," sunoo commands. you do an eye-roll but do as he says. "if you don't ask him out or do something by the end of this, you can at least kiss your best shot at a boyfriend goodbye with luscious lips."

he finishes applying the color and asks you to rub your lips together and make that pop sound. "perfect," your best friend compliments. "go out there and get your mans."

"thank you, sunoo!" you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror and loving the way he accentuated your features. "by the way, you're all talk. you should ask your celebrity crush out when they appear on your channel."

"i'll get there when i get there!" he whines and starts pushing you out of his dorm room. "just go get 'em, tiger."

with that, you make your way to the dance studio where heeseung is waiting for you, dressed in hyunseung's iconic suit with the leopard-patterned blazer. your heart quickens, seeing how much more handsome he looks dressed up, hair slicked back and some makeup done. he looks up upon hearing the door open and his mouth slightly hangs open as well.

the both of you are silent as you approach him, in your equally bedazzling outfit, sheer to mimic hyuna's stage dress. "you look amazing," the two of you say at the same time. stunned at the simultaneous sentence, you two immediately start guffawing at how this was unlike your usual interactions.

"that was so awkward!" you blurt out, unable to contain your laughter.

"yea, not like us at all," he admits while he wipes a stray tear from laughing too hard away. smiling at each other, you admire the way his eyes reflect your image and sparkle. "you ready to get this show on the road."

"ready as i'll ever be." the two of you get into your positions on the opposite ends of the room, and heeseung starts the camera and the music soon after. you take each step slowly to meet him in the middle as he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to give it a kiss while smirking. you keep your face professional as the two of you take a few steps forward, the back of his fingers curled over the front of yours.

starting back-to-back, you walk forward a bit before the beat drops and heeseung's part begins. you're on autopilot as you dance your fingers from his chest to his shoulders, and then the chorus comes. hips swaying, you're able to feel his hands' light taps on your body as the two of you lose yourself to the music you've danced to hundreds of times this week.

then, it's your killing part as you lipsync hyuna's rap and take bold steps around heeseung's body, ending up behind him to bring your hands over his shoulders and make a scratching movement across his chest. you step towards his side, do your thing, and walk away as if playing hard to get.

you wait for his part during the bridge and make a side glance towards him before moving towards him and performing the hip-heavy part of the chorus together. your partner moves his face up along your arm, taking it in like you're a statue. you then act like you brush him away when heeseung gets close enough. after this second chorus, you're leaving him to do his big solo, watching carefully as he makes his every move precise and crisp yet flow well.

it's the last chorus now, and this time, you can't take your eyes off each other as you finally face one another. you stay drowning in his shades of brown without a single misstep until you have to walk away from him. you wait for him to come towards you, back slightly turned away as he jaunts forward, making his way to be captured by your hand behind his neck.

the last breath of the song is the one where you're supposed to turn your head away as his own chases yours, but this time, you brave forward and lean in close. the music fades away, but all you hear is his breathing, feeling it against your own.

you stay like this, ensnared in each other's arms, forgetting about everything except the person wrapped close to you as you feel his every breath against your lips and every inhale and exhale under your hand. he searches your eyes, looking for some kind of sign. "do you mind if i—"

that was all you needed before you're pressing your lips against his. it only takes seconds for him to kiss you back, moving his hands from their previous position on your hips to hold your face. becoming breathless from dancing was one thing, becoming breathless from kissing heeseung was another thing entirely, it was in a league of its own you note as you pull away and rest your forehead on his.

"we'll have to edit that out," you say after what seemed like ages of taking each other in while chuckling.

"i have a better idea than editing."

"oh, and what's that, handsome?"

"look at you getting all bold, troublemaker," heeseung replies with that smile of his. he shakes his head, moving away from you and taking your hand in his. "how about we go on our first official date as youtube's top dancer couple?"

"that does sound like a better idea," you agree, your own smile widening.

"then let's make it happen, sweetheart."

bonus! - click for full images

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki send an ask to join the taglist! :3c permanent taglist: @fiantomartell

a/n: wow this was a long one!! i'm not sure if i detailed all the movements well, but i hope you all enjoyed it nevertheless <3

[taetaespeaches]

“And to think I called you a cooking genius.”

 namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff; one little suggestive moment word count: 3.1K

 a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s just a drabble where Joon and Daisy/reader are baking together and neither of them really know what they’re doing (though Daisy is less clueless than Joon). There is no reason for this to be 3,000 words but it is so enjoy lol. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :))

Holding back a grin, you searched the grocery bags piled on the kitchen counter, peeking inside them quietly as Namjoon stood nearby watching you.

“Did I get everything?” He asked tentatively, your smile breaking through as you looked up at his nervous expression.

“Did you get baking powder?” You asked him, the man’s eyes widening as he looked at the sacks.

“Isn’t it-” he started, making his way to the groceries and pulling out a box. “Right here, right?” He asked, holding up the box making you pout affectionately at him.

“Babe, that’s baking soda,” you broke the news to him, giggling as his eyes widened in surprise. “It’s ok,” you started as he set the box down and prepared to leave to correct his mistake.

“I’ll go get the powder. Powder,” he enunciated to himself as you grabbed his arm, holding him back from leaving the apartment.

“Joon, it’s fine,” you giggled. “I think we have some around here somewhere, we’re good.” Looking you up and down, he silently questioned you. “It’s fine,” you insisted, the man sighing in response.

“Why is cooking so hard?” He asked through a whine that made him sound about ten years younger than he was.

“We’re not cooking, we’re baking,” you chuckled lightly. “And we haven’t even started yet, you big baby.”

“Since when do you bake anyways?” He suddenly turned on you, giving you a playful glare.

“Excuse me, I know how to do some things,” you countered, though the tone of your voice lacked the confidence you were trying to portray, and from the questioningly stare he gave you, you could tell he picked up on your little faith in your abilities. “What? I’ve baked before.”

“When? With your mom when you were five?” He teased, you cocking your head at him in feigned annoyance.

“Yes, actually, and what about it?” You pressed sassily. “So what if I was five, I have a good memory, are you going to question my memory? Did you already forget that you don’t know the difference between baking powder and baking soda? Do we need to revisit that little moment?” You ranted, making a move to grab the box of baking soda, only for the man to chuckle as he grabbed your wrist, halting your motions. However, your restricted movements did nothing to stop your mouth as you continued to playfully scold him. “I may not have a lot of experience with cooking and baking but at least I know the difference between baking-” He cut you off by pushing his lips to yours, you groaning against his mouth though your hands grasped onto his biceps as if you were holding him in place, not wanting him to break contact.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he relented, his move away from your lips making you whine quietly. “You’re a cooking genius and I’m an idiot who doesn’t know the difference between baking soda and powder.” He grinned that dimply smile at you, making you have to hide your amusement behind a glare.

“I’m glad you know,” you nodded, Namjoon squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed at your stubbornness. He dropped your wrist, though neither of you moved further, staring at each other. “I wasn’t done kissing you, you know.”

“Oh is that so?” He asked with a cocky smirk, the expression both annoying and ridiculously attractive.

“Mhmm.” Appreciating the fullness of his muscles under your fingertips, you hummed, your eyes drinking in the way they filled the t-shirt sleeves. “These are really nice,” you complimented, Namjoon’s smile spreading as he ducked his head slightly in embarrassment.

A light chuckle left his lips, your gaze slowly meeting his own, a smile growing on your face. With a small nod, his dimples on display for your orbs to feast on, he whispered a small, “thanks.”

“You’re fucking ripped,” you teased, though you genuinely were impressed with the size of his arms. He had been hitting the gym regularly, and it showed.

“Ok that’s enough, let’s just- get to baking,” he told you through his smile, shaking his head as your eyes widened.

“I’m being serious,” you insisted as he brought his face closer to yours to leave a light kiss to your lips.

“Mmm,” he hummed against your lips. “Let’s just make these cupcakes.”

As you explained what you were doing to Namjoon, cracking an egg into the mixture, you swore you could see the confusion swirling around his head through the dazed look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna have you crack the second egg.” The comment received no response, your lips quirking upwards just slightly. “Joon,” you called out, the man blinking quickly as he looked at you with wide eyes, almost like a deer caught in headlights. “Are you even paying attention?” You giggled, a guilty grin overtaking his features.

“I was trying, you’re just so pretty,” he complimented with a smile, you rolling your eyes with a scoff.

“Break this egg, ok? Just be careful of the sh-”

As soon as you handed him the egg, the man dove right in, in an attempt to prove he was indeed paying attention. Within a second, cutting your words off, he smashed the egg against the side of the bowl. Staring at his hands in disbelief, you watched as the egg yolk somehow slid down the outside of the bowl and plopped against the counter, breaking upon impact.

“Whoops,” he said guiltily, a giggle leaving you as your gaze caught half of the egg shell shattered in the mixture. “Can we start over?” He asked, you throwing your head back with an inhale, just before bursting into laughter.

“We used all of the baking powder in this mixture,” you informed him, Namjoon smiling, still looking as guilty as he was. The man grabbed a spoon quickly, attempting to fish out the pieces of shell, but ultimately shoving them further into the various dry ingredients.

“Joonie,” you whined, dragging his name out. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, dropping the spoon in defeat. “Hang on, let me look up a substitute for baking powder. We will make these cupcakes,” he announced with unfounded confidence.  

Grabbing his phone, you watched in amusement as his focused gaze scanned the device screen as he read over baking powder substitutes. He was really adorable, and he really wasn’t told that enough.

“This says baking powder has baking soda in it so we can use it as a substitute,” he announced, holding the phone up for you to see, the excitement in his orbs making him look youthful. Again, adorable. “We just use a little bit less of the baking soda.”

Looking at him skeptically, you leaned in toward the phone, glancing at the article. With a sigh you shrugged, Namjoon smiling in victory as he locked the phone and tucked it into his pocket.

“I thought since you knew the differences between baking soda and powder you would know the similarities too, Daisy,” he teased, causing you to instantly glare at him. “And to think I called you a cooking genius,” he tsked, a smirk forming on your lips.

“I already told you, this is baking,” you corrected him just as he wrapped an arm around your waist, his hand finding purchase on your lower back. Bringing his lips to your temple, he left a light kiss to the spot, you instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Same difference,” he mumbled against your skin, his warm breath upon your temple making you turn your face toward his.

“It’s really not though, cooking is-” he interrupted you with his lips on yours, and if you weren’t so fond of kissing him, you would have scolded him for cutting your words. Instead, since you were rather keen on his lips, you stepped even closer to him, draping your arms over his shoulders, your fingers instantly toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You know, you’re getting awfully cocky for someone who just smashed egg shells into the first mixture, Dimples,” you reminded him against his mouth, Namjoon laughing in amusement.

“Ok, point taken,” he agreed, shifting his attention to the ingredients lined up.

“I’ll handle the eggs this time, you just be ready to put those muscles to work when it comes time to mix,” you glanced at his arms, a bashful smile overtaking his features.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kissing him softly once more, you latched your eyes on his. “You’re adorable, by the way.” Seeing how his cheeks tinted pink as he beamed, surprise evident in his smile and gaze, you buckled down on your compliment. “Really adorable.”

Pulling you into a tight hug to hide his features, he mumbled against your hair, “thank you.” A moment went by before he added, “stop embarrassing me,” both of you giggling at his bashful state.

Surprisingly, the second go at the batter went surprisingly well. You cracked the eggs, only one piece of shell landing in the bowl which you easily removed, and Namjoon’s biceps did wonders on mixing everything together. As the cupcakes baked, you worked on the frosting, which even that turned out somewhat decent; a little runny, but it would do.

“I would say it’s a success,” you commented as you licked a bit of frosting off your finger. Namjoon looked at you with big eyes before dipping his own finger into the bowl to snag a taste for himself. You watched as he brought his finger to his lips, the sight maybe, just possibly getting you a little too worked up for 2 pm.

He hummed in satisfaction, nodding at you. “It’s good!”

“It’s shocking to me that you don’t understand your effect on people,” you told him seemingly out of thin air, his eyebrows raising as you stared at his lips. He studied you for a moment until he caught on, a smirk curving on his mouth, you groaning.

“Did that do something for you, Daisy?” He teased, you biting your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“Stop,” you giggled just as Namjoon stepped toward you, securing his arms around your waist as his opposite hand went for the frosting once again. Scooping up a dollop of the sweet mixture, he brought it to your lips.

No words were spoken, your eyes locked on each other’s as you opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit. His jaw tightened as your tongue swirled around his finger, just before you released it with a pop, a smirk forming on your lips, Namjoon mimicking the expression.

His hand quickly moved to hold the side of your face, his mouth landing against yours in an instant, the kiss needy and hungry, messy and passionate. Your backend was soon pressed up against the counter as his hand around your waist slid under the material of your top to grasp at the flesh of your hip. You moaned into his mouth, the man smirking just slightly.

And then the oven beeped. You groaned in frustration, Namjoon breaking the kiss with a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m tempted to ignore them,” he chuckled, you giggling as you shoved him away from you playfully, turning to the oven.

Opening the door, you gasped in surprise, Namjoon’s intrigue piquing as he peered around your frame to look at the cupcakes. “Oh wow,” he breathed out as you set the cupcake tray on top of the oven, both of you staring at them in shock with how nice they turned out.

They looked great, with perfectly rounded tops. Tapping against the top of one, it felt as though it was light and moist.

“We have to let them cool before we can frost them,” you said, Namjoon humming from behind you.

“What if we just frosted one to try it out?” He suggested, you cocking your head as you stared at the cupcakes. Silently agreeing, you reached for the bowl of frosting and started coating one of the cupcakes with it.

Lifting it from the pan, you lowered the cupcake lining which surprisingly pulled from the pastry quite nicely. As you took a bite of the cupcake, Namjoon wrapped his arms around you in a back hug. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he opened his mouth for a taste as you chewed your own bite. Bringing the cupcake to his lips, the man took a bite just as a weird taste settled on your tongue.

“Um,” you said, Namjoon chewing, not yet experiencing the flavor you were. Cringing suddenly, you pulled a face of disgust. “Why does it taste like-” you thought for a moment, trying to place the taste.

The man let out a sound of distaste, you turning to look at him. “Soap,” he decided for you just before darting away from you to the trash can as you frantically searched for a place to spit it out. Within another second, Namjoon was hauling the bin to you for you to get rid of the rank pastry.

“Where did we go wrong?” He complained as you grabbed your water bottle, washing down the taste.

“I bet it was the baking soda,” you settled, handing Namjoon the bottle.

“It wasn’t the baking soda,” he insisted just before gulping down half the water.

Shooting him a knowing look, you cocked your head. “Let me see that article,” you insisted, a small smirk on your lips as he handed over his phone, allowing you to unlock it and read through the article he had found that outlined the differences and similarities between baking soda and powder.

Coming up behind you again to read over the article with you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, once again positioning his chin on your shoulder.

You scanned the article quickly, seeing where Namjoon read that the two substances could be used as substitutes for each other. However, not without other adjustments you realized as you continued reading.

“Too much baking soda will leave a metallic-soapy taste in the baked good,” you read from the article, Namjoon’s lips finding your shoulder as he left a sweet kiss, trying to distract you from his mistake. “Namjoon!”

“What?” He played dumb, you scoffing in response. His mouth settled against your cheek, leaving random small pecks to the plushness.

“The soda is stronger than the powder so you’re supposed to up the acid to balance it out. Therefore, it’s because of the baking soda,” you complained, lightly nudging him in the abdomen with your elbow.

“Ouch,” he teased, smiling against your cheek before kissing the spot a few more times quickly. “Ok, so this is all my fault,” he admitted, both of you laughing in amusement.

“At least they look somewhat cute,” you bargained, cocking your head at the, well, presentable cupcakes.

“Maybe we should take cooking lessons,” he suggested.

Resting your head back against his shoulder, you looked at his face, appreciating the beauty of his features. “For the last time, this is baking,” you reminded him with a smirk, Namjoon playfully rolling his eyes. “And maybe we should,” you giggled.

“I could look some classes up,” he told you, leaning toward you to leave a kiss to your nose.

“That chef will never know what hit them,” you smiled, Namjoon lightly chuckling as he softly kissed your lips. “I kind of want to tell your fans about this,” you mumbled against his mouth.  

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at you, though the amusement circling his gaze told you he wasn’t really that upset by the idea.

“But I want to,” you continued, the man suddenly spinning you around and wrapping you up in his arms.

“You better not,” he mumbled against your neck just before his fingers found your waist, tickling the sides, causing you to squeal and squirm in his grip.

“Joon,” you complained through your laughter, Namjoon relenting as he hugged you to his broad frame, pressing kisses to the side of your forehead and against your hair. “I just think they should know their leader doesn’t know the difference between baking soda and powder,” you continued teasing him, the man groaning as he looked at your face, appreciating the smile you wore in utter fondness for the man.

“They already know I can’t cook,” he chuckled, you giggling along with him.

“This is baking though,” you reminded him, once again, Namjoon sighing as he wrapped his arms around your head, kissing your forehead.

“I’m sure they know I can’t do that either,” he chuckled against your skin, you laughing fondly as you squeezed your arms around his waist.

“Actually, you know what,” you started, Namjoon locking his eyes on yours. “They look somewhat decent, you could post a photo and pretend they tasted amazing,” you suggested, Namjoon’s eyes widening as if you really came up with something great there.

“Hang on, that’s so smart,” he beamed. “You really are a genius.” The compliment was soon followed by a big smooch against your mouth just before he released you from his hold and grabbed the frosting.

And as he frosted the cupcakes, taking a photo of the finished product to post later, you couldn’t help but watch him, absolutely smitten with the man. He was unbelievably adorable, and you made a note right then and there to remind him of that often.

When he turned to look at you with a wide beam, you shook your head at him. “Adorable,” you told him, the man chuckling as he pulled into yet another hug.

Later that night, as Namjoon checked the notifications on his photo that he proudly captioned “I can bake now”, a smile curved on his lips at the comment made by one of his fellow bandmates.

“I heard they tasted like soap,” the comment noted, Namjoon looking to the bathroom where you were getting ready for bed. Hurrying to find you, he appeared in the doorway, you shooting him a wide-eyed look in the mirror.

“Daisy,” he whined childishly; adorably.

“What?” You asked, holding back a fond and knowing smile as to not disturb the face mask covering your features.

Holding up his phone at you, he huffed. “Who did you tell about the cupcakes? Was it Jungkook?”

Tossing your head back in laughter, saying fuck it to the face mask, Namjoon shook his head, an amused grin spread across his face.

“It was actually Jin,” you giggled, Namjoon stepping toward you as he chuckled.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, wrapping his arms around you and leaving a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m keeping you honest and humble,” you insisted teasingly, smiling adoringly at your boyfriend as he leaned forward, catching your lips in a sweet kiss, a bit of the mask transferring to his face. “You’re so adorable,” you told him again, wiping the mask residue from his chin and cheek. 

He flashed you a stunning grin, his dimples on display for you, and in that moment, just like all moments, he was everything that mattered. Bad baking skills and all.

[reddie-is-my-life]

Hi

I’m not sure if any of the people that follow me are even active anymore but its been a couple of years since i posted on this account. I’ve written a couple things throughout the time that I actually posted on this account which is what this post is about. I was scrolling through my wips and turns out I have a not completed fic that could really be considered a drabble. Anyways, I wanted to post it just to say i did. You don’t have to read it. Or you can. Its up to you. I wrote this in 2018 so if you do decide to read it don’t be harsh. Thank you.

The thrum of the music under his feet guides him further into the pack of bodies grinding against each other. The smell of sweat, weed and alcohol curls around him making his nose scrunch up from distaste, the further he walks into the house. Someone in the crowd bumps into him slamming their shoulder into him, making him stumble slightly before someone reaches out to steady him. He decides to not acknowledge the hand considering the owner of said hand is the one to blame for his presence at the party. The same hand leads him into the open kitchen where all the liquor is lined up on the counter.   

“Come on Eddie, I know you don’t wanna be here but at least don’t look like a 5 year-old that got their favorite toy taken away from them,” Bill pouts already reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, I’m sorry for being so petulant. I should’ve realized that it was hurting your feelings Billy. I also didn’t realize that your favorite toy was a party filled with people that don’t care who sees them wasted and filled with idiocy ,” Eddie snaps back. 

Bill only raises his shot of whiskey in the direction of the other boy before tipping it back. Swallowing he takes a moment before he responds, “You seem snarkier than usual, something up?”  this time he takes a step closer as if it’ll block the dark room, loud music, and the dozens of people surrounding them. 

Even if Eddie wanted to talk about it, he sure as hell would never hold a heart to heart conversation with Bill in front of so many people. Instead he shakes his head and reaches for the cooler filled to the brim with beers. Expertly popping the cap off with his car keys he turns to Bill again finally meeting his expectant eyes, “It’s nothing, I just have a small headache is all,” it wasn’t a complete lie, he did feel the beginning fingers of a migraine graze his head. Ignoring it he decides to change the subject before the other man decided to pry more, “So what’s the deal with this guy? He’s got a pretty nice house to be someone of the middle working class.”

It was true after all, no one with decent money income could afford a sleek looking chandelier hanging in the middle of what looked to be the living room. The couches seemingly pushed next to the walls giving more space for people to grind against each other. The couches were filled with people either shotgunning or just full on making out. The sound system though, playing songs that made him skeptical about the type of music the host listened to, seemed mighty expensive even from his vantage point in the kitchen. The place itself was big, the open kitchen looking out into the living room and what seemed to be a room with a pool table, leading into a hallway Eddie was sure was a couple bedrooms. He wondered if the rest of the place would look just as expensive as the part that was filled with people. Maybe he would sneak away and explore the rest of the house if Bill got caught up with someone else. 

Bill nods his head in agreement, “Yeah, it is a pretty damn good house. The guy that invited me here, Ben,” he takes a second as if remembering the man. And if he’d be damned he thinks Bill is blushing lightly ,”he’s, uh, best friends with the host. Said he was a radio host or something and he had his own show even. He also said he would be here but I haven’t seen him yet,” he looks around the room but it’s no use due to how smokey and dark the whole house is. 

Looking at his friend more closely he realizes that he is indeed blushing like some schoolgirl with her crush instead of a 25 year old man. He wonders when Bill met this so-called Ben and when he had formed his crush. But more importantly he wonders why in the world Bill never even mentioned him to him. Eddie was surely privy to this information, he was his best friend after all. Perhaps Bill finds you annoying now. Maybe Bill doesn’t even want to be friends with you but is too nice to tell you directly so he brought you to the party you didn’t want to go to so you would leave him. Perhaps Bill finally sees you for who you really are. You dirty-, “Hey Bill, do you happen to have a crush on this Ben fellow?” 

“Uh, w-w-why wouldd you say that Ed-d-die?” Bill's stutter comes out clearly, making him flustered and proving his hidden secret. Instead of coming clean he reaches for his third shot. Swallowing it cleanly only slightly wincing he takes a look around the dark room again as if someone will appear and save him any second from the questions Eddie is surely going to press him with. 

Eddie moves to the side when someone comes up behind to get something to drink but pulls Bill right along with him. Deciding to at least ask, without intention of harm he opens his mouth, “Come on, Bill. You don’t need to lie. I am your best friend for a reason. You can tell me these types of things,” he laughs ruefully at that, “actually technically you can tell me anything, that’s what comes with being best friends. A small dumb crush definitely falls in that category.”

Bill winces at that and a sad glint fills his eyes along with disappointment but before he can answer him someone calls his name out. He turns along with Eddie to meet a guy smiling and walking towards them, “What’s up, Big Bill? What are you doing huddling next to the drinks? Don’t you know this is a party?” Eddie watches the man come closer and notices how Bill lit up with excitement as soon as he recognizes him. So this must be Ben. He would let out an appreciative whistle if the man weren’t so close and Bill wasn’t so infatuated with him. The man - Ben - was handsome as hell. His light colored hair was styled to look as if he hadn’t done anything with it but it wasn’t a lazy look, it looked rather sophisticated. The beard that adorned his face looked sharp and regal, complimented even by the small scar that lay on the corner of his top lip. God damn, a scar has never looked so right. His build was leaning towards gruffer and broader. His arms seemed to bulge even from Eddie’s vantage point. It was all on top of legs fit into jeans that seemed to only highlight the fact that his arms weren’t the only thing taken care of. Though the man would look intimidating with a face and a body like that but his eyes were kind and his tone was playful. 

He takes a second to catch on to the nickname and is soon distracted by that rather than the man standing across from him, “Big Bill?” he whispers quietly turning to face Bill.

Before he can say anything about the nickname he receives a hearty laugh from Ben. Facing him again he waits for his answer, “Ah, you haven’t met Richie yet then. He gives everyone a nickname. Or at least everyone he likes. I’m Ben or Haystack,” He says extending a hand to shake. 

Though Eddie finds it strange to shake hands as if in a business setting instead of a raging party he shakes his hand, “Eddie or Eddie.”

Though it wasn’t a joke, Ben still lets out a smile at his response. His brown eyes twinkle before turning to Bill. He goes to touch him before seeming to think better of it and turns to Eddie again, “You wouldn’t mind if I took Bill from you would you? At least for just a little bit.”

Raising his eyebrows he shakes his head, “No, no, not at all. You guys should go dance.”

Bill clears his throat before responding, though Eddie sees right through it. Almost as an afterthought it comes to him that Bill usually clears his throat when he plans on what to say without having to worry about his stuttering. Guess Ben makes him nervous, “You sure Eddie? I can stay if you want,” but from the way he was looking at the other man he doubted that it was something he wanted to do.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll go find something to do. Maybe even find the host to tell him how shit his beer is,” he cracks a smile at that, urging his friend to leave him in the kitchen and dance with the handsome devil that clearly seemed interested in him too.

“Alright, just give me a second,” he tips his head back taking the shot in his hand before turning and taking another one. He shakes his shoulder at it and turns to face the other two, “Alright, let’s go dance.”

Eddie almost expects a high pitched giggle from his friend for a second by the way he grins so widely. He makes no reaction outwards but inwardly he’s utterly confused. Bill wouldn’t be acting this way if it was just a small crush. He wonders when Bill met Ben once again before he notices that his friend has turned his head looking at him briefly making Eddie smile and pumping a fist in the air before he turns around once again saying something in Ben's ear that makes the bigger man face him smiling widely. He lets out a quiet sigh, confused as to when Ben had made an appearance in Bill's life enough that he would look like - funnily enough - he was given his favorite toy. 

Before he figures out what he wants to do while he waits for Bill to come back - if he even comes back - his eye catches on someone walking up to the counter looking more than enough wasted that he feared that the second they got their hands on another drink they would puke all over Eddie’s shoes. Deciding not to even chance the thought of it or at best try to hold a conversation with them he walks towards the pool table. Sidling up to a corner of the pool table he takes into account the people surrounding it. Most seem pretty similar to each other making commentary on the play going on in front of them. Yet, he focuses on one of the players, while most people around the table - hell even the other player - are more drunk than not, he seems perfectly sober. 

His moves are crisper than the other guy who is moving around slowly. He watches as the small bun on the man's head bounces around a little as he jumps up and down from seeming excited on his clear victory. His actions lead to a couple curls coming out and framing his face. Eddie looks at him closer and notices that the man has a shocking color of blue eyes that pair nicely with his sharp cheekbones and jaw. Strangely he remembers Ben and thinks how complete opposites these two are. While this stranger is just as attractive as Ben he falls on the opposite spectrum. Pool table guy has such a pale color of skin he kinda looks like a ghost in the soft lighting hanging above the table. The light casts shadows on his face making him seem sharp and cold, while his electric blue eyes set off a vibe of mysteriousness making him that much more intriguing to Eddie. 

As he finishes off his beer he watches as the handsome stranger takes the final shot landing him the victory that was obvious as soon as Eddie walked over to the table. He watches in something close to amusement as he celebrates around the table before bringing the other player closer and clapping him on the back. The only response he gets from the drunk player is a couple grunts in disdain with the occasional mutter that the game was unfair and he demanded a rematch. Handsome stranger only chuckled in response before letting him go. And suddenly driven by who knows what force Eddie spoke up, “I’ll do the rematch for him, considering it wasn’t a fair match between a drunk man and a sober one.”

Both men turn to look at him but he focuses on the blue eyes of the handsome man. They seem to stare at each other for eternity before the other man breaks the silence by breaking into a smirk, “It wasn’t my idea to play the match. It might actually be an unfair match to me considering I had to drag it out way more due to consideration of this poor drunk man, isn’t that right, Zach?”

The drunk fool- Zach, didn’t let out a reply instead opting to slump further into the chair he had let himself fall into. It seemed to Eddie that he was getting ready to fall asleep in the chair. The host surely must care about the random people falling asleep in his property. He turned his attention back to the other man before cocking an eyebrow. With a small jerk he silently questioned if he would take him up on his offer. Said stranger only seems to smirk even more before heading to one side of the table.

As Eddie grabs his pool stick the stranger talks to him again, “So, cutie what’s the name to the face?”

“Don’t call me that and it's Eddie. And you would be?”

“Richie Tozier at your service. Seriously though, anything you want,” he finishes with a wink. A fucking wink, how cheesy could this guy get? God could only do so much for someone Eddie supposed, good looks, bad personality. 

Eddie scoffed instead of deeming him a response. Setting the balls into place he felt as Richie watched him. Looking up at him he met his gaze allowing only the smallest bit of discomfort set into him before he spoke again, “So, do you not drink?”

If Eddie hadn’t been watching his reaction closely he wouldn’t have noticed how Richie’s smirk faltered for a second before righting itself quickly. Only faint curiosity crossed his mind soon fading away because even though he was intrigued in Richie he didn’t want to actually get involved in anything with him where he would care about him in any way. Richie seemed to ponder the question for a second before answering, “I do drink, just didn’t feel like drinking yet, plus weed is sufficient enough to last until I decide I want a drink,” he shrugs.

Only raising his eyebrows slightly he gestures for Richie to begin the game. He watches as the other walks around the table before setting the white ball down. Just as he’s about to lean down to perfect his shot he looks at Eddie, “What about you Ed’s? I saw you put the beer bottle away but I doubt that you’re drunk.”

He observes as Richie lines up his shot before deciding to respond, “Again, my name is Eddie, if you already forgot. E-d-d-i-e. And secondly, I don’t really enjoy the idea of me passing out on an uncomfortable wooden chair next to a pool table surrounded by people I don’t know,” he pointedly looked at Zach quickly passed out on the chair already.

“Mmm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”

Lining up his shot, Eddie hums low in his throat right before the balls fall into the pocket. The game continues as the silence covers them like a fog. The small clinking of balls against each other along with the loud music playing from the living room do nothing to hide the hot gaze of both men as they move around each other. Brief touches of hands, shoulders and hips go throughout the game with the occasional smirk thrown at each other. Eddie though usually not one to find interest in a random stranger that quickly can’t help but feel curious toward the curly haired man. As the game comes to a close, Eddie sinks the final shot winning but only allowing himself a small humpf of victory before looking at Richie. 

Even though they’ve basically been eye fucking each other the whole entire game Richie places his hand on the small of Eddie’s back steering him towards the drinks, “I think i need a drink,” Richie offers offhandedly. 

Eddie silently watches as Richie makes up a concoction of tequila with orange juice stirring it slightly before tipping it back. Slightly covered in sweat Richie’s neck shines faintly under the faint light filtering from the small light on top of the stovetop. Watching as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, Eddie also swallows along with him suddenly hit with a dry throat. He reaches for the whiskey Bill had been drinking earlier before pouring up a shot. Taking it straight, he tries to clear his thoughts so he won’t end up in bed with the man that’s staring at him currently. That’s not how it works dumbass, you should definitely not be drinking alcohol. 

He swallows.

“Holy shit, Ed’s didn’t know you had it in you. I would’ve thought you would go for another weak beer,” Richie smirks.

“Shut up prick, you don’t know shit about me.”

“Maybe so, but by tonight I’m hoping I’ll know a couple more things about you,” and once again he winks but instead of making Eddie's eyes roll it makes his stomach turn in excitement. 

“Sure pal, whatever you say,” he deflects.

Richie only laughs in reply before pouring up four more shots and gestures to two of them looking at Eddie pointedly. Eddie lets out a scoff before stepping closer and taking one into his hand. He makes eye contact as he tips it back and if the eyes aren’t deceiving him Richie’s eyes darken a shade. He smirks before bringing the shot glass back to the countertop, “So?”

Richie lets out a dark chuckle before taking both shots one after another. The only reaction of the burn is a slight twitch in the corner of his eye before he stares at Eddie in amusement. Eddie takes the remaining shot before heading over to the group of bodies grinding against each other. He briefly glances behind his shoulder making sure the other man still has his attention directed towards him.

And that’s it. Thanks.

[unholyobsessions]

Sunset Coffee

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Julie develops a crush on the cute barista, little does she know he feels the same way

Warnings: none i think

Word Count: 3.5k

Prompt for jatp week Day 2: Write an AU. Modern AU / Coffee Shop AU @jatp-week​

The bell above the door dings as Julie pushes it open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills her nostrils and she scrunches her face. She dislikes coffee, always has, too bitter for her taste, but she loves hot chocolate. Her mom used to make it for her at least twice a week and for a year after her mom’s passing, she made it her goal to find a coffee shop that made it as good as her mom did.

Sunset Coffee is a small shop in the corner of a small suburban neighborhood. It’s hidden behind the façade of a one story home, the only evidence of its existence being the small sign by the front lawn and on the door and the amazing yelp reviews left by their devoted customers.

Julie discovered it by accident. She was riding her bike around aimlessly through the city when she had the sudden urge to use the bathroom. Deciding to knock on the friendliest looking house, she was surprised to see the sign by the door. She went in carefully, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere created by the music playing softly in the background, and a number of college-looking students on their laptops or with textbooks opened around them. She went up to the island at the corner of the room, being used as a makeshift counter, and asked the barista on the other side if she could use their bathroom. The girl, looking no older than nineteen, smiled and pointed her in the correct direction.

Julie smiled back and rushed to the empty hallway, opening the door and walking in to do her business. She decides to stick around, going back to the counter and asking the question she has asked at dozens of other coffee shops.

“Do you sell hot chocolate?” The smile she receives in return answers her question. She stands by the counter as she waits for her drink, allowing her eyes to drift over the room. The walls are covered with different types of hand writing. Quotes from books, movies, or tv shows. Jokes, phone numbers, emails, and instagram handles. Theres a basket by the door, she notes, filled to the brim with different color markers, encouraging people to express themselves.

She receives her drink and she takes it, handing her the exact amount of change. She decides to explore the rest of the rooms, intrigued with the nice shop. The next room has couches instead of chairs and the walls are painted with chalk paint. There’s drawings, to-do lists, and so much more written on the walls. She smiles and takes the first sip of her drink. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she knows that she will never get a hot chocolate from anywhere else. It’s not quite the same as her mom’s but the difference is what makes it so good.

There’s a hint of cinnamon hidden behind the rich taste of chocolate and Julie finds herself closing her eyes, savoring the moment. She continues exploring, keeping a grasp of the mug. There is a total of four rooms. The entry one, the chalk one, one with bright red booths, mimicking an 80s looking diner, complete with a jukebox in the corner, and the last one that has normal black tables with gold accented walls. There are autographed picture frames of famous people who Julie assumes have visited the coffee shop hanging on the walls.

After finishing the drink, Julie places the mug in the sink by the corner meant for all used mugs and glasses. She bids goodbye to the barista and leaves, making note of the address and promising herself to be back soon. She went back two days later and has been there almost everyday. She goes after school, to do either her homework or work on some songs.

She looks up from her phone, ready to greet Flynn, who she became fast friends with and no longer has to even ask what she’s having, already having the drink prepped since seeing her pull up. She is however met by a male voice, welcoming her into the shop. Julie’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and she freezes. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone as attractive as the man standing before her. She clears her throat and continues walking forward, already pulling out her wallet from her backpack. She hands him the exact amount needed as she always does and he merely raises an eyebrow.

“Umm what are you having?”

Julie gapes at him, feeling stupid for her actions. “Oh! Right. A hot chocolate please. Sorry, Flynn already knows what I order so it’s a force of habit.” The man chuckles and presses a few buttons on the cash register, taking the money from her and handing her the receipt a few seconds later.

“No worries, I normally work mornings but Flynn called in sick so I offered to come in today.” He walks back to make her drink and Julie stands awkwardly by, gripping the straps of her backpack. He turns back and hands her the cup with a smile. “So with Flynn knowing your drink I’m guessing you’re a regular?” He asks, hoping to start a conversation with the pretty girl.

“Yeah,” Julie looks down for a second. “I’m Julie.” She would have offered her hand for a handshake but considering her grip on the mug, she decides it’s a bad idea.

“I’m Luke.” He slightly bites his lip and Julie has to try her best not to swoon over him. She nods her head and takes a step back going to sit in one of the empty tables. She normally opts for the couches in the chalk room but for some reason (certainly not the attractive barista) she decides to stay in the front room today.

Luke Patterson’s parents have owned Sunset Coffee since he can remember. The quaint little house on a suburban street owned by his grandparents was left to his family after their passing. The decision to remodel came after his dad lost his job, and the extra house in his name left room for ideas. He remembers sitting with his parents at the kitchen table as they decided what to do with it and his small, seven-year-old voice, speaking his opinion.

“We can sell coffee!”

Of course Luke didn’t drink coffee, but he hears the compliments given to his father’s coffee every time they have company over. To him it’s just a bitter drink he had once but from what he’s seen and heard, it’s seen as a necessity by adults.

His parents were a bit skeptical at first but the idea grew on them and they got to work. His mother designed the rooms, taking inspiration from the internet and his father took care of the menu, trying different concoctions that would often be served with dinner, decaf for young Luke of course.

Once it opened, it took a while for people to notice the hidden gem but once they did, everyone loved it. Although not known by many, those who come once normally decide to keep coming, loving the atmosphere it holds.

He started working there when he turned sixteen. At first he took the afternoon shift since he was still in high school, but after graduating he much preferred working mornings, since that left all of his afternoon free to practice with his band.

He’s known his bandmates all of his life. Living next door to Bobby made them friends by default and when they started first grade, they were introduced to both Alex and Reggie and the four have been inseparable ever since. They formed Sunset Curve freshmen year, naming themselves after their designated hangout spot.

They’re always hanging around when Luke has a shift, which is why it is not surprising when they burst through the door of the coffee shop as he is distracted, staring at Julie. The yell of his name breaks his trance and he rolls his eyes at the sight that greets him.

Reggie is draped over Bobby’s back, eyes drooping shut, probably from staying up all night writing his beloved country songs. Alex is smiling lovingly down at his phone and Luke makes a mental note of to tease him about that later.

They make their way to Luke and he tells them to go wait for his shift to be over in the diner room and then they could discuss their next gig. He tries his best to usher them away quickly, knowing that he will find it easier to work up the nerve to talk to Julie without them in the same room. They eye him suspiciously but ultimately ignore his strange attitude, walking away and down the hallway.

As this happens, Julie is opening her laptop and slipping on her earphones, her Spotify is opened to her ‘You Can Do It’ playlist and she hopes that this will encourage her to actually write her Common App essay. She is consistently drinking from the mug, finishing her hot chocolate sooner than expected.

After his friends finally decide to leave him alone he looks back to the pretty girl, lost in the her own little word. He is shocked to find the empty mug already placed on the table, and he is sure he has never seen anyone drink a hot chocolate that fast. He makes the quick decision to make her another one because by the way she has settled into her seat, it looks like she is going to be here for a while.

A few minutes later, Julie is startled when Luke picks up the empty cup and places new warm beverage, complete with whipped cream on the top, in front of her. She slips off one earbud and turns to him.

“Oh I didn’t order another one,” which as she thinks back, is a pretty stupid thing to say because of course he knows that she didn’t order another one, considering the fact that she has not moved from her spot.

“I know, it’s on the house,” he smiles at her and Julie swears it’s like looking at the rising sun. So bright, but beautifully enchanting that it makes it impossible to look away.

“Thank you,” she says, slightly embarrassed because she doesn’t know if he’s flirting or if he is just being considerate.

Of course Luke is flirting with her, and he hopes to God it’s working. He wants to ask for her number, but as he spots her laptop and sees the screen he suddenly deflates. There is a list of prestigious colleges open next to her google doc filled with essay prompts. He however, barely graduated and is not even in community college as he waits for his band to make it big. He has never been insecure about his decisions, and is actually extremely proud of what the band has accomplished, but as he stands before this beautiful and obviously intelligent girl, he suddenly feels as if his accomplishments are not good enough.

So instead of asking her out as he originally planned to, he walks away. He continues to stare at her though, and if he starts asking Flynn to switch shifts with him more often then it’s merely a coincidence.

. . .

It takes a month of endless pining for his friends to finally attempt to knock some sense into him.

It’s the eighteenth time that Luke has asked Flynn to change shifts with him in order to see Julie and speak to her for a few minutes. Flynn definitely knows what’s going on, and knows full well that Luke’s crush is reciprocated because of her many late night phone calls with Julie. She, of course, doesn’t say anything, simply agreeing to take the morning shift, and sending a quick text to Julie telling her that her knight in shining armor will be working that day. This text normally leads to Julie clearing her schedule and going to the coffee shop if she wasn’t planning to already.

Their interactions normally go as follows:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink, and gives her a compliment. “I like your jacket.” Julie will blush and avert her eyes, speaking a soft “Thank you” before taking the drink and paying. If she’s feeling confident (normally caused by a good score on a test that day) she’ll compliment him back. “I like your t-shirt” which normally translates to ‘I listen to that band as well.’ Luke will grin and then Julie will walk away.

It drives them both crazy because this is how they actually want their interactions to go:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink and gives her a compliment. “You look beautiful today.” Julie thanks him and compliments him back with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She takes the drink and pays but before she can walk away Luke stops her. “Do you maybe want to go out sometime?” Julie internally screams but keeps her cool on the outside, not wanting to seem desperate. “Yes, definitely.” They look away bashfully and Julie takes the seat closest to the counter, keeping conversation with Luke for the rest of his shift.

It never happens and it annoys all the regulars who have picked up on their feelings for each other.

Today, Julie finds herself receiving a text from Flynn which is why she is now pedaling in the direction of Sunset Coffee. There is a nice, light wind that rustles her hair as she bikes across the city. She stops in front of her favorite place, kicking down the stand and placing the bike behind the fence. She smiles at Luke, who, as per usual, sends her a grin and a wave from behind the counter.

Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, sit on the table closest to Luke, sending him teasing smiles that cause him to blush. He turns to make Julie’s regular hot chocolate as she takes out the exact change from her wallet. They all eye the exchange, wondering if today will finally be the day one of them makes a move. They are disappointed to see the two exchange nothing more than shy smiles and thank you before Julie walks away and into another room.

Luke turns back to his friends, ready to continue their conversation about the gig on Saturday to find them all glaring at him. He quickly raises his hands up in defense, rushing out a “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” Alex says. Which is followed by “Agreed” and “I second that” by both Reggie and Bobby respectively.

“You’ve been in love with her since the second you laid eyes on her. Even Reggie noticed and he is as oblivious as it gets,” Alex continues. Reggie points his finger in agreement, seemingly ignoring the dig at him.

Luke looks down at his feet, already embarrassed out how glaringly obvious he is. “It’s just,” he pauses and his friends wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “She’s too good for me. I mean she’s applying to universities right now and not just any random colleges, she’s going for the good ones, Ivys, UCs, that’s more than I ever did. I almost failed out of high school. I’m a knock-off Luke Hemmings doing nothing with his life.”

Insecure is not a trait anyone would normally use to describe Luke. Cocky, passionate, attractive? Sure, but never insecure. They’re all even more surprised at his reasons for not asking a girl out. He normally uses the band as a way to attract people to him, he’s never hidden it in shame.

“Luke you are literally one of the most talented people I have ever met,” Bobby starts. “Just because you crave success in something other than academics it doesn’t make you a failure. If she doesn’t realize how insanely amazing you are then she’s not the one and that’s that.” Luke looks up at him and he’s extremely glad that today is a slow day and the shop is basically empty because he’s almost sure he’s about to cry.

“Go ask her out man,” Reggie says.

“And if she says no then you can just go back to working mornings,” Alex offers. Luke throws a dirty dishrag at him and they all laugh. Luke then takes a deep breath and starts making another hot chocolate to take to Julie, almost sure that she is probably already done with hers.

He holds the drink carefully in his hands and makes his way down the hallway, finding her in the chalk wall room. She’s holding a pencil tight in her head and her eyes are closed. She’s tapping her foot at an even beat before suddenly stopping and writing something down. Her open laptop with a half done essay sits abandoned next to her.

Luke taps her shoulder, startling her out of her daze. She smiles up at him and it only widens once she sees the mug he’s carrying.

“I figured you might want another one,” he shrugs his shoulders as she takes it gratefully.

“You know, you don’t have to keep giving me free drinks,” she says before taking a long sip of the warm beverage.

Luke scratches the back of his neck gives himself a mental pep talk, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Well, if I’m being honest, I keep doing it trying to work up the courage to ask you out.” He fiddles with the apron tied around his waist and looks at her, trying to decipher what she’s thinking.

Julie doesn’t know what she’s thinking. The guy she has been simping over for a month just said he wants to ask her out, she focuses her energy on swallowing the sip she already had in her mouth without choking before looking up at him. She gets a sudden wave of confidence (she aced her calculus test) and she opens her mouth to speak. “And have you? Built up the courage I mean.”

She sends him a dazzling smile and Luke is sure that he is about to faint but he manages to keep his composure. “I sure hope so,” he mumbles under his breath before saying, “Julie will you like to go on a date with me?”

“I would love to.” They smile at each other before they both look away, suddenly bashful. “How about Saturday?” Julie suggests.

“Actually my band and I have a gig on Saturday,” Luke says slightly embarrassed but then he remembers what Bobby said and stands up straighter. “Actually, will you like to go? To the gig. It’s nothing big really, it’s in this club but it’s supposed to be really packed on Saturdays so we’re hoping it will be good exposure.”

Julie’s eyes widen in surprise, cursing Flynn for not telling her that Luke is in a band because it suddenly made him a hundred times more attractive. “Yes! Oh my gosh I would love to go. I love music, I’m actually applying to be a music major.” Now it’s Luke’s turn to be surprised.

“You play?” He sits down in front of her, his job suddenly forgotten, but he’s confident that one of the guys will take over if a customer comes in. They’ve seen him make orders enough times to know how to do it.

Julie nods. “The piano, my mom taught me when I was young and I fell in love with it. I don’t know what I want to do with it though so I’m hoping to double major in music and something else.”

Luke quickly realizes that his insecurities were completely misplaced. “That’s really cool. I play guitar and I’m the lead singer. Not that I’m bragging!” He is quick to defend himself, not wanting to seem overly confident and Julie giggles.

“When did you start playing?”

“My parents bought me an acoustic guitar when I was six, hoping that it would make me stop running around the house so much. They never expected their son to refuse to go to college to pursue his rock band though.” Luke shrugs at the end, his parents are supportive of him, they weren’t for a while but they came around and go to a lot of his gigs.

“I think it’s really admirable,” Julie says. Luke raises his eyebrows, a silent request for her to elaborate. “To be so passionate about something, to know what you want to do with that passion, and pursuing it no matter what.”

Luke knows he is blushing and is about to say something when Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, pop their heads into the room.

“Did you do it?”  “Did she say yes?” “Did you choke?” Are all questions his best friends ask. Luke sighs and shakes his head and Julie does her best to bite back a laugh.

“I did do it. She’s coming to the show on Saturday.” His friends cheer and Julie is unable to contain her laughter.

The guys all rush into the room and introduce themselves to Julie keeping her company as Luke goes back to work.

. . .

Julie goes to their show on Saturday, and every single one of their shows after that. And her decision to accept UCLA’s offer in April was definitely not influenced by her relationship with the cute barista.

[kiome-yasha]

You ask and you shall receive, top 5 ship headcanon of Rizumo that you absolutely love and will fight anyone for it

This is going to be a LONG HC of development.  XD

For one, Rin’s crush on Shiemi is obvious, that is something any person knows. And I will always think Izumo will be insecure about that, even when they do start dating. After all, Izumo has been the one pushing the idea on Shiemi that she does have feelings for Rin, so I do think Izumo ignores her own feelings and possible crush on Rin. Even the moment she told Shiemi when Rin was sent to the past, her expression was very solemn. So honestly, even when or if Rin grew feelings for her, she will always be skeptical and push it down and reject him a lot. She’s not playing second best for anyone.

Izumo spoils Kuro with treats and cat toys, she shops for him a lot, surprising Rin himself with the stuff she brings. She makes the excuse of just ending up with them, but that girl actually saves and does what she can to even have a moment with the feline. It’s gotten to the point Rin even offers to pay her back from all the stuff she gets for him, which she always declines and says it’s no pressure at all. Even so, Rin appreciates her kindness, wondering why she fights him so much when offering to cat sit or pet him.

Izumo tutors Rin, this was evident a lot in the ao no exorcist novels. I feel Rin has a learning disability or at least ADHD, so it’s hard for him to focus a lot. Izumo makes it easier for him of the notes she writes and breaks them down for him to understand. He loves how neat and good of a teacher she is, even complimenting how he appreciates her being so patient with him since Yukio usually isn’t. Even though it’s hard for Rin to concentrate, it’s harder for Izumo when he compliments her to no end about it. She also gets on Yukio and even Bon at times for calling Rin an idiot, or dumbass, since having so much time tutoring him, she learns firsthand how smart he really is. 

Also, random note, I headcanon if Rin and Yukio did not makeup during the latest chapters, Izumo was ready to throw hands at the younger sibling for making Rin cry. (Those two really have a crying thing between them)

Also, Rin doesn’t know why, but deep down, he really hates when Izumo cries. Seeing a girl like her who’s always so strong and contains so much inside, it’s hard for him to see her like that without trying to make her feel better in some way. 

Izumo likes wearing Rin’s shirts, loving his scent on them, despite her always making the excuse that they stink and needs to learn how to wash them.

They both share and trade mangas they both are fans of. 

If together, I headcanon think they would have 4 kids. I have a lot of reasons and feelings about this, and I do think it reverts to the fact how much family IS important to these two. They both lost so much, and both have gone through trials when it comes to their parents who died saving them, and the love they have for their siblings. So having a big family is something they BOTH need, especially Izumo treasuring her kids like her mother did before her, despite them being the children of Satan. Even when people are against the existence of her children, Izumo adores them and does not treasure them any less for it. Also, I have their kids formed to be the 4 horsemen of the Apocolypse, so there’s a whole rabbit hole there for ya XD.

Rin and Izumo also tag along together when visiting their parents’ gravesites, needing someone who can support them who understands the pain and reason why they are even alive today to even be where they are (FIGHT ME) LOL XD.

There’s more,  but this is already more than 5 xD.

Thank you @i-can-see-the-stars for this ask!!! ;w;

[fabelyn]

In Carcere Ch.40

Pairing: inahoxslaine (orangebat, inasure)

Rated: T Warnings: spoilers for series finale Chapter: 40/? (previous chapter) Chapter Word Count: 13k

Summary: At first Inaho visits out of duty and humanity. And then he finds he can’t stop going back to see Slaine Troyard.

“I’m sorry to say, I can’t reveal who our leader is yet,” Lemrina says the minute she can find some time alone with Inaho. “He actually requested it from me after meeting with Slaine. He says he’d like to talk to you without prior knowledge coloring the discussion.”

Meaning he wants to ensure I don’t have time to prepare or plan based on his identity. At least I know it’s a male, though that was hardly unexpected considering the male gender predominance in high Martian ranks. 

“And while normally I would assume your lack of expression might help…”

“You don’t want to risk the breach of trust it would be if I accidentally reveal I knew in some way. I understand. I assume he revealed his motivation and plans to Slaine?”

“They didn’t have time to go over details of the current plan, but yes, he told Slaine why he’s doing all this and some other relevant information I can’t reveal.”

“And Slaine’s verdict?”

“Agrees the words made sense, and the emotion demonstrated seemed real, so Slaine ‘trusts him as far as he can shoot him’.”

Inaho nods. “So he has decided to believe this man but hasn’t been blindly led and is keeping a healthy skepticism. Good, in between you two choosing to follow him, I assume I will have the same opinion, unless I’m privy to information you both were not.”

Lemrina is pleased enough with the mild compliment, as Kaizuka acknowledging anyone else’s intellect is certainly one, and tries to be gentle. “I’m sure it all means he should be coming to you soon.”

“That depends, did he also ask Slaine not to tell me?”

“Hm, I don’t know actually.”

“If he asked the same of Slaine, it means he won’t be coming anytime soon.” Which is a nuisance; the faster I can discuss this with Slaine, the better.

“Maybe that will be for the best, I heard the medical staff say you’re making quite a bit of progress, but that doesn’t mean you’d be fully mentally ready for him soon.”

“Certainly. And did Slaine go forth with our plan?”

“You mean, that pathetic excuse of an idea, where you pretend to only be pretending to love him?” Lemrina hisses.

“Did you not once pretend to only be pretending to be in love with him as Asseylum?”

Lemrina gasps as if he’d physically slapped her. “That… was different . And much more toned down. And… and besides if you really think it’s the same situation, all the more reason for you to accept my opinion on the subject as the correct one.”

With that, she pushes her wheelchair out of the room.

Inaho is hardly concerned; Lemrina is hardly one to be fine with prolonged solitude. And his observation was perfectly logical, she will admit it herself soon if never out loud to him. She will be back.

*

And she certainly was.

“I think it’s time to tell you one more thing.”

You mean you forgot to do so yesterday when you left in exaggerated displeasure. “Yes?”

She recounts the Emperor’s situation as well as Slaine’s fears.

Inaho considers it. “This is something I should examine further when I’m fully recovered. But for now I agree with Slaine’s interest in this. How both the UFE and Vers treat you and Asseylum will change according to this knowledge. But, we have an edge over both.”

“Rayet’s attempt,” Lemrina says. “I asked her before coming over. She told me she tried strangling Asseylum to the point where she required CPR to be revived.”

Inaho nods. “Correct, and at that time, Asseylum was the one that had directly activated the Deucalion, and it stopped functioning, confirming her momentary death.”

“By then, Slaine had already received aldnoah from her by way of CPR—what?” Lemrina stops, noticing the rare sight of Inaho’s lips quivering upwards for a moment.

“Nothing, the coincidence amuses me.”

“I hope you’re not thinking this is a case of indirect kissing?” Lemrina asks in disgust.

“No. I never understood the logic behind attaching the sentimentality of a kiss to the action of sharing a surface at different—”

“No need to go further, I’m satisfied. What’s important is that Slaine retained his aldnoah access even after her momentary death.” She sighs. “If only all of the Deucalion crew hadn’t witnessed that death and subsequent system failure. It will be easy for either faction to get their hands on that information.”

Inaho shrugs. “Even if they do, it’s of little consequence unless the knowledge that Slaine piloted the Tharsis thanks to Asseylum is also information they can procure.”

Lemrina considers it. “It’s hard to say for certain, but I think not. He first used it when he was with Count Saazbaum.”

“During a fight between planets, where all eyes were elsewhere, and Slaine didn’t use the Tharsis to interfere in a way that would have gotten him noticed before he took off with Asseylum in tow. At which point one could assume that he drank her blood and only after was able to use the Tharsis to leave.”

“Count Saazbaum was aware of my existence, so one could assume if Saazbaum didn’t pass his aldnoah access to Slaine, I might have. They'd have to go as far as know Slaine only met me after using the Tharsis.”

“Although that only works for people that are aware of your existence. Meaning, assuming that you and Slaine met before his using the Tharsis is something that may only dissuade your leader from looking for— wait.” Inaho considers it further. “Slaine could have operated the Tharsis without the aldnoah drive, if Count Saazbaum had allowed it, unless he made a show of being able to operate it fully when he reached martians with Asseylum?”

Lemrina shakes her head. “No, initially there was an uproar as they focused on saving her life. Count Sauzbaum took over and simply acted as if her rescue was his plan and Slaine a mere follower of his. After that, they focused on silently keeping her coma a secret and pretending I was her, partially recovered. There was no interest from martians to getting to know Slaine, much less the extent of what he could do with the Tharsis.”

Inaho’s head begins to feel uncomfortable. Although he can still plough on further, he’d rather not do any damage that might show up on test results. “This is as far as I can go for now,” he says, pointing to his eye. “But I can still say at least this until I’m able to reflect further: I don’t think we are at the risk of either martians or terrans finding out the truth. One would have to have an intricate knowledge of Slaine's abilities with the Tharsis, a timeline, as well be aware the Deucalion shut down mid flight once. We never divulged to every crew that it was due to Asseylum nearly being murdered. I don’t see it happening. Besides—”

“Really, if it’s hurting you, you can stop and retake this another time!”

“This much I can handle. It’s one last thing. If your leader was on the path of closing in on the truth, he’d have to ask you, Slaine or Harklight for details on Slaine and the Tharsis. So long as neither of you ever divulged anything to him, only we know about this.”

“He never asked. So we know something neither the UFE or he does. I wonder if we can use that to our favor? Ah, but don’t think about that now!”

It is frustrating that he can’t reflect on it now. Even more so when Inaho acknowledges there are many things he could have already thought through if he’d been invested in it since the start.

There’s no point in regret now.

*

“ Ha! I win again. Told you that the second match was a fluke. There’s no way I’d lose to someone who… who…”

Rayet realizes too late that making fun of Slaine for being incarcerated and thus not being allowed to work out properly really isn’t a good look.

“I mean, of course I wouldn’t lose every match, but it’s actually really impressive you bet me in arm wrestle at all! You should be proud!”

Slaine bursts out laughing. “You are even worse at giving compliments than Inaho. It’s fine, really. It is the truth. I’ve been tying some stuff together and lifting those but the results are slow.”

Rayet relaxes; Slaine laughing without a biting edge to it is rare and a good sign. “I used to think anyone could pilot if they had the coordination for it. It took me a while to realize you do need strength to keep your stamina at the controls for long. Nina and Inko always complain about feeling bruised after too long.”

“Did you visit them before coming back? How are they?”

“In good spirits. Which is something, after being forced to work like that for the UFE.”

“Can’t they simply quit?”

“Not everyone can walk away that easily. They let me go at first because they thought I was touched in the head. Inaho, they assumed broken, plus I guess since he was only leaving to take up, well, you, I guess that worked out just fine. The old geezers aboard the Deucalion… I think they refuse to leave because they know the UFE is simply going to shove someone else in their place, so they might as well stay aboard to protect the Deucalion.

“And the rest… I guess they could ask to leave but… and go where? I guess this is my own fault because I keep complaining, and also because you only saw them when the UFE started doing shit. But the Deucalion itself… It feels like home. And safe. If there was a way to leave the UFE without sacrificing the Deucalion, who knows.”

“... Speaking of the Deucalion. Rayet?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you tell me about that time you once mentioned, when you tried to strangle Her Majesty?”

Rayet leans back on her chair, now worried again. “...Why?” Inaho had been very emphatic about not trying to pry the topic of Asseylum out of Slaine in his absence. The possibility of Slaine himself bringing it up hadn’t factored in. Especially not with this sort of request. 

Then it hits her. “Oh, wait. Is this about the aldnoah thing? Lemrina asked about the same thing. Yeah, I tried killing her, she fainted, Deucalion went down, she was revived.”

“Yes. But I’d like the details, please.” 

Not that Slaine truly needs the details, but it’s clear Rayet is treating him like some invalid that cannot handle even that, and it’s grating on his nerves to not be able to show he is not as unstable as he had been. “I think they might be important.” he lies. “And it’s fine, you won’t upset me.”

Rayet considers it, then shrugs. She can blame Slaine if Inaho complains later. “Alright then. My memory is a little foggy because I wasn’t in my right mind but uh… I was in the shower, reflecting on, well, watching my family be killed before my eyes.”

Slaine blinks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known. Anyway, in comes Asseylum chatting happily to her maid about how everyone is so nice to her and I just… broke? I know how ridiculous it sounds when I tell anyone. Hell, even back then I knew I wasn’t okay doing it. Anyway, the motivation was stupid so we can skip that—”

“You can skip it if that’s what you want. But as for stupid motivation to commit crimes, I certainly cannot judge you, if you wan’t to talk about it,” Slaine says with a mirthless smile.

“...I blamed her. But it wasn’t like my anger now. Now I can see her actively failing and harming people, so it feels like it’s okay to feel this way. But back then… I blamed her for things that weren’t really her fault. I mean, everything happened because she was so naive, but there’s a limit to what I can blame her for that. My family was tasked with murdering her with false promises of glory. Then they were betrayed and killed instead. We had lived a life of lies until then, not being allowed to reveal where we came from, even. 

“I thought… if she hadn’t come to Earth, none of it would have happened. And then, despite the destruction that her arrival inadvertently caused, she went around skipping through the corridors of the Deucalion like she was out on a fun vacation. No one even blamed her for it! It was too much. My family was dead and she didn’t even look upset . I wanted her to stop smiling. ”

Rayet’s hands are balled into fists on the table. Slaine reaches out to place his hands over hers.

How different from the me of back then . Cruhteo would whip him, tell him he was worthless, the rest would at best ignore him, at worst steal his food and beat him up. Every day he had to walk in tiptoes, no mistake was ever too small to not get ruthlessly punished for.

And then there was her, smiling brightly and talking about seeing birds and water, unaware of his treatment. 

He had loved that. He could bask in her obliviousness and for a while pretend nothing was wrong, nothing was happening to him. He had needed that small amount of joy to get through the day.

...But would he have ever suffered that much if she had known and done something to stop it?

No, don’t do that. Don’t blame her for the things you never told her about.

“What then?” He asks, hoping to pull them both away from a spiral by focusing elsewhere.

It works, and Rayet focuses. Her hands relax again, so Slaine takes his back. “So then the maid left to do… whatever, I don’t remember. I wasn’t in my right mind, like I was acting on autopilot. I went to where she was showering, and grabbed... the nearest object I could to choke her.”

“You choked her with a towel?” It would have been easier to use her bare hands.

“No, I don’t remember what that object was.”

“I deal with Inaho constantly. Don’t try to lie to me.”

“... It was that pendant.”

Slaine lets out a sound that is between incredulous laughter and choking.

“I really only brought her more misery, didn’t I?”

“Slaine—”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given it to Inaho. I guess it brings bad luck.”

That he switched so fast from focusing on Asseylum to worrying about Inaho makes Rayet excited enough to speak without thinking. ���He’d have taken it anyway.”

“What?”

“... Because… Because he doesn’t believe in that stuff, you know.”

“Ah, right. So, you used my pendant.”

“Right. She eventually stopped struggling and fainted so I let her fall to the floor. I just...stood there not really thinking. But then the Deucalion lurched, fell and stopped moving. Then Inaho and the maid came back.”

“He likely realized what the Deucalion losing power meant.”

“I guess. And then more people came, they brought in a defibrillator. Inaho personally administered CPR…”

There is a fleeting expression on Slaine’s face, that goes away too quickly for her to make out. 

“She woke up again, but the Deucalion didn’t start up.”

“Yes, once turned off, aldnoah needs to be personally activated again.”

“Right. And… that was it. So, Lemrina said this all means even if the former Emperor does die, martians will keep their power?”

“...Yes.”

Rayet clicks her tongue in annoyance. “There really is no easy way to get rid of their power.”

I wonder. “Please don’t tell anyone. No one knows as much as we do.”

“Don’t worry. The only person I’m inclined to tell is Inaho, and I know Lemrina is going to fill him in. As for why knowing is so useful, I’ll leave you scheming people to it. Now, one more game before I leave?”

“Since Inaho isn’t around, how about poker?”

“Sure, but don’t invite that Harklight. He looks like he can keep a straight face a little too well.”

*

Slaine does, later on, invite Harklight for a game of poker.

Rayet was right; he does have a good poker face.

“That’s it,”  Slaine says after the third loss in a row. “You are playing against Inaho when he comes back.”

“I fear I’m not quite that good.”

*

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“Don’t be silly, I know how packed your schedule is.”

Packed mostly with useless fluff. Still, it is necessary to establish a routine of continuous movement and meetings, so as to mask any suspicious activities.

Mazuurek, leading the way to a private room, continues the mindless chatter. “I’m surprised you came so early, in fact. I hope I haven’t interrupted any important meetings, I really have nothing urgent to say, I just miss personal company sometimes.”

“On the contrary,” Klancain replies. “I happened to have an opening.” True, as dropping a meeting to randomly visit Mazuurek might seem suspicious. “So it was simply luck that I could come over so soon.”

Instead of answering, Mazuurek stops in front of a door and opens it for Klancain to walk inside.

It’s one of Mazuurek’s favorite guest rooms, and Klancain is casual enough with Mazuurek to sit himself down on a couch.

“This room is safe, I always check,” Mazuurek assured him, sitting down on the opposite side.

“Is somewhere in your Landing Castle not safe right now?”

“Not that I’m aware. But, well, I thought it might be prudent to be careful.”

“Oh yes. Pardon me, I didn’t mean to come off as judging you, my friend. It is indeed better to be safe than sorry in these troubled times. It’s just that, if you had a more concrete belief on being spied upon, I could try and help.”

Before Mazuurek can answer, there is a knock on the door and a servant comes in bringing food, glasses and a bottle to set the low table between the two Counts.

“That was different,” Klancain comments mildly when they’re alone again. “Usually I see that former maid of Her Majesty’s.”

Mazuurek smiles as he grabs a pastry. “She had been granted some vacation time off. I made some calculations and realized she had accrued two months of vacation she had never bothered to request. Hungry?”

“Not really, thank you, but I’ll accept a drink. And that was nice of you.”

“Not that nice, according to her. She certainly acted like I was kicking her out, not rewarding her with some time to rest.” Mazuurek sighs. “I used to allow them to do as they wish with their vacation, but I’ve noticed my martian underlings all refuse to take time off, so I decided to set her as an example. Really, I do understand that in between needing to build up Vers to become hospitable and then getting ready for war, we hardly ever had time for such things. But now that we’re here, I want to increase Labor Rights so my workers have a better life. Even if it takes a while for it to sink in.”

“A commendable idea. I should reinforce that in my own Landing Castle. Oh!” Klancain had been examining the drink bottle and finally noticed the label on it. “This is new, and from your territory, no less. What’s this, Mazuurek?”

Mazuurek looks half apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I was hoping to hear your opinion on it? It’s something that has been around for a while here, but recently I thought of perhaps increasing production and trying to export to other territories. It might help the economy.”

“I’ll gladly be your test group. Let’s see…” He tries taking a sip. “Very good. I can definitely see this succeeding as an export.”

“I hope you aren’t saying that just to please me.”

“I wouldn't jeopardize your economic endeavors by lying about their success rate. But tell me, has something happened? I thought you were doing fine.”

“Fine is good, certainly, but I want more than that. Perhaps with a surplus of income I could expand and help more people. Not to mention… who knows how things will be in the future, considering the current situation.”

Ah, here we go . 

Mazuurek waits, but when he sees Klancain has no plans to say anything, he continues, now serious.

“The UFE murdered Count Mikael.”

“...Yes.”

“And you knew about it.”

“I did.” 

“Why didn’t you…”

“Do anything?” Klancain downs the rest of his glass in one motion, then looks at Mazuurek with sincere despondency. “Because there was nothing I could do. If I had sufficient sway, I would never had allowed the UFE to not only murder one of our own, but to go further and do it in a way to create strife between our people. Yes, I knew about it; but that is the extent of what I can do. The terrans that compose the UFE Council did not arrive there by easily listening to martians. 

“...You could have told me.”

“Did Kaizuka tell you?”

“I... thought we were closer than Kaizuka and I,” Mazuurek says, and colors lightly, likely from frustration.

Klancain flinches; he’s gone too far. “I apologize, my friend. The subject is a complicated one for me. If you’re upset with me for not having done anything, rest assured I am even more so. I didn’t tell you because I saw no point in burdening you with it.”

“But I could have done something!”

“Do you truly think so? What would you have done, then? Revealed what the UFE was planning, thus restarting another planetary conflict and resulting in more bloodshed?”

“... I…”

“If Kaizuka also chose to keep this from you, then it’s because even he realized there was nothing you could do. But please, don’t take that as you are lacking. If it is a failure, it’s one we both share.”

Mazuurek silently stares at him, then his shoulders sag. He leans forward, reaching for his empty glass. 

Klancain grabs the bottle and offers to pour for him. Mazuurek hesitates then, to Klancain’s surprise, grabs the whole bottle from him and drinks directly from it.

“That isn’t very respectful of you,” Klancain says with amusement.

“Ah, screw that,” Mazuurek says uncharacteristically, but he’s smiling.

“Care to share?”

“As much as you care to share your information.”

“Alright, I deserve that. Sobriety it is.”

“Ah, fine, you don’t,” Mazuurek admits, and hands the bottle over. Klancain considers it for a second before shrugging and following his example, foregoing the glass.

“I understand that it’s not as if I’d do anything about it. Just like about… Slaine Troyard.”

Ah. “Kaizuka told you that, too.”

“Oh, you have no idea .”

“Hm? I’m all ears.”

“... No, I will keep the details to myself. Not out of spite, but some things… are Kaizuka’s to talk about. You can go ask him.”

Oh? Did he mention his feelings for Slaine to Mazuurek? A pity it would be too suspicious to inquire about that. “Maybe I will. He and I never had a chance to talk, actually.”

“You’ll work out great, with those tendencies to not tell your friends the very relevant information you know.”

“Mazuurek…” Klancain tries to offer him the bottle again, but Mazuurek refuses.

“No. Look, as I said, I have to admit I really can do nothing about Troyard, nor could I have stopped the UFE without making it worse. But to think that even you will refuse to tell me such important things… it means not only do you not think me useless, you don’t even see me as trustworthy or care about me enough to ensure that I’m also aware!”

Maybe I shouldn’t tread too lightly after all. “I see. So, when will you be telling Her Majesty?”

“...!”

“Come now. Are you perhaps not fond of her enough to keep her informed?” It would be nice if you acknowledged she is hardly intelligent enough for you to ever risk it, but you won’t go down that path.

“That’s… I don’t want to hurt her.” 

“And that, my friend, is why I haven’t told you. Sharing this with you, so you too can live knowing how powerless we are, wouldn’t make me happier.”

Mazuurek’s shoulders sag in defeat. “I suppose I understand. But still, now that I know this much, it’s not going to help me to keep more from me. Promise me you’ll now tell me if you know of the next attack.

“While I can swear I am not aware of any attack at the moment... no, I cannot promise you I’ll warn you of future ones. Not unless you promise you’ll take that information and do nothing with it.”

“...! But what if I find a way—”

“And what way would that be? Visit the Count and stay with him forever? No Mazuurek, I will not risk your life by telling you that information in advance.”

Mazuurek looks like he wants to argue, but again can’t find an argument. Klancain takes pity on him.

“Obviously, if you are ever their target,” he chuckles at the notion, “I will immediately warn you. Although, thanks to Kaizuka, I assume you’ll be on the lookout hereon for suspicious skycarriers requesting permission to land, and you can just shoot Troyard on sight.”

To Klancain’s surprise, Mazuurek groans, pulling at his bangs. “I… am going to try and avoid that. Shooting him down I mean.”

So Kaizuka did say something about his feelings. “What is this? Pity for him now?”

“I guess,” Mazuurek says, and can’t quite look him in the eyes, confirming Klancain’s assumption. “Oh. Maybe you can at least help me with his collar?”

“Hm?”

“Can you acquire the plans to how it was made? I could try and find a way to dismantle it.”

It’s a relief to finally hear something he can agree with, and Klancain smiles. “As a matter of fact, I might be able to procure that for you.” He had, in fact, already begun to do so; if he could remove the collar mid-operations, he could take Slaine from the UFE through the easiest route. “Or at the very least, the signal information. The UFE knows this collar is all that keeps Troyard in check and obedient outside of his cell, the plans won’t be something they’ve left unguarded.”

“I imagine so. But it’s fine, we have to try something. Maybe I could create a device to jam the signal, at least.”

“True, I’ll tell you of any updates I have on that, just don’t get your hopes up too much. And if the UFE tires of keeping Troyard alive, I’ll tell you after the fact. That’s the most I can do.”

Mazuurek sighs. “Fine, I know not to push my luck. That said, Slaine Troyard… I feel partially to blame for that.”

“Hm? Why so?”

“I’ve been thinking, ever since Inaho came over. I recalled when I first heard they’d use him as a scapegoat to secure peace.”

Klancain considers it. “Ah, yes. The UFE Council called Her Majesty in for a private meeting, and neither of us had the power or influence to join in.”

Mazuurek nods. “And then when she came to us later, with the idea of using him in her head, I remember… remember how I didn’t really object. I thought, ‘he’s dead, and nearly succeeded in hurting terrans and was keeping Her Majesty captive, why not?’. I was tired, I wanted an end to all the fighting already and besides, maybe it would be cathartic for Her Majesty to pay him back for the hurt he caused her. I never voiced a complaint.”

“You didn’t know he was alive.”

“Did you?”

“No. We landed on Earth together, remember? I still hadn’t managed to acquire any connections to terrans, much less the UFE or Kaizuka. I didn’t have the information,” Klancain answers truthfully.

“That’s the thing. You also didn’t know he was alive, but you thought things true. I remember how you tried dissuading Her Majesty. You said Count Saazbaum would be more appropriate. In fact, you even offered your father—”

“Ah, please don’t think that suggestion was a big sacrifice on my part. We weren’t close and besides, my dear father would want nothing more than to have his memory used for the sake of Vers’ future.”

“Even so, you tried . I said nothing. It never occurred to me just how fragile the peace we’ve brokered on this lie really is, until Inaho spelled it out to me. Maybe, if I had just said anything…”

“Maybe nothing would have changed.” Klancain cuts his thoughts short. “It wasn’t your job to think of it for Her Majesty, don’t blame yourself for something that you might not have achieved even if you had tried. I could also have done more. Insisted on it, or talked to you to get you to help me. But I dropped it quickly enough, too.”

He had initially wanted for Slaine to not be used, as he had known nothing would seal his fate tighter than that; in any other situation the UFE might lock him up but never as closely guarded as now that they cannot afford to lose their excuse. 

That said, choosing Slaine as the figurehead did help him in other regards; by blaming a young boy, it speeded up martian suspicion of Asseylum by at least a year.

“I suppose. And I’m sure the UFE wouldn’t let Her Majesty change her mind so easily.”

Klancain considers if he can afford to push Mazuurek a little more. He doesn’t want him feeling worse, yet he does need to plant seeds of doubt on him, if he ever hopes to not have to fight him in the future. He chooses to try. “As a matter of fact, that is something I’ve been wondering.”

“Yes?”

“Was placing all the blame on Troyard something the UFE came up with?”

“You mean…!”

“When I think about it, wouldn’t the UFE rather blame a martian Count, instead of a terran boy that had just barely risen to power?”

“So, you think Her Majesty suggested him.”

It certainly sounds like the foolish, lacking in oversight, decision of someone who never had to think of the consequences of her actions in a negative light, and who wanted him to personally pay. “I’m afraid I am leaning towards that assumption, for now. Recall, if you please, that Troyard’s troops were poised on the eve of a victory. The peace protected terrans and not our people. It would not interest them to broker a peace too fragile that would result in Vers taking back the fight before they could even recover.”

“But then, why?”

“Maybe at that moment they wanted nothing more than to please the one person they had to thank for creating the ceasefire. And if her request was something that came with no sacrifice to them or their power, why start their relationship with a refusal? Better to give her that, start amicable relationships with a show of being willing to follow her lead then disagree and push back or more serious matters for the UFE.”

That, and now having something over Asseylum’s head. If she ever seems to be no longer following UFE’s interests, they can hold Slaine over her head. If she tries to amass martian power against terrans one day, they can ruin trust her people have in her by revealing the truth.

And that is the true reason they willingly kept Slaine alive even before they had any use for him. They could have killed him and claimed an accident, or suicide, to appease Asseylum’s sensibility if she ever cared to ask.

He is a tool to overturn regimes. The question is, who will use him.

Wherever you realize it or not, accept it or not, Asseylum, it was Slaine that gave you the power to create this false peace. Everything you built thanks to him, he can destroy.

And I’ll see to it that he does.

Mazuurek does not notice Klancain’s darkening face, lost in his own thoughts.

The UFE’s power must be diminished.

He’d been meaning to tell Klancain of his plans to increase his own influence, but now he’s changed his mind. It’s not that he wants to be petty over the lack of information; he simply feels it would best if Klancain continued to be oblivious, to not harm his own standing in the UFE. 

Besides, Klancain is smart, he’ll notice it in time, if Mazuurek succeeds.

*

“Lemrina, how does the aldnoah transfer work?”

Lemrina frowns. “ You don’t know?”

“Assume I don’t.”

“Fine. By swearing fealty to the Royal Family then accepting our blood. The loyalty and the blood together allow for aldnoah use.”

“Slaine—”

“Other body fluids don’t carry the same power as blood. Rather than that, through skin to skin contact is how loyalty, or love, is verified. That gives the subject a temporary contract; you can use aldnoah to activate one thing to your will, but nothing else. To complete the contract and fully receive aldnoah, blood must then be ingested.”

“I presume you gave Slaine your blood then, during the war?”

Lemrina shifts uncomfortably. “... As a matter of fact, no. I… was foolish. I knew he’d need me less if I did give him, and I wanted to retain some power over him… “

“That was a very sensible decision on your part.”

“No, no it wasn’t. Maybe it sounds like it, but I know there was nothing logical about it, I just wanted attention. Anyway, I would give him my blood now, but I can’t ask for his loyalty.”

“About that, is there some basis, some test done, to ascertain it requires loyalty?”

“A text left behind by the ancients. It said: 

“ Those who are loaned to ‘successor’ and ‘maneuver’ need to ‘recognize’ each other as part of their own. The consciousness that feels like a part of oneself, recognizing that the object is a personality different from oneself, can also be called ‘loyalty’. In other words, it is also called ‘love’. Only to those who pledge ‘loyalty’ or ‘love’, Ald Noah's ‘maneuver’ is borrowed .”

“...”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just my head.” For once, it’s a lie.

*

“Kaizuka, you have a visitor.”

Inaho frowns at the unexpectedness. He doubts it’s his friends from the Deucalion, or else they’d come as a group. He glances at Lemrina, doing strength training a few feet away, but she looks back clearly just as lost.

“That’s fine, bring them in,” Inaho says.

Even more surprisingly, it turns out to be Eddelrittuo.

“Greetings, Inaho Kaizuka…” she says, and Inaho can’t quite place the look on her face. 

Well, whatever it may be, she doesn’t seem pleased to be here. “It’s been a while, Eddelrittuo.”

“Yes…” Before she can say anything else, she catches sight of Lemrina and her eyes grow wide. “Y-You!”

Inaho sighs inwardly, wishing Eddelrittuo had learned to be a little less open and expressive.

“I suppose working under Mazuurek, you haven’t seen a fellow maid of Her Highness, so your surprise isn’t shocking.”

Annoyingly, she does not catch the hint. “W-What?”

“Hello, Eddelrittuo,” Lemrina says smoothly, coming over as fast as her wheelchair would allow. “It’s been a while since we both worked together under Her Majesty’s employ, hasn’t it?”

Finally Eddelrittuo understands. “Oh! Right! Yes, it’s been so long, how are you?”

“I’m doing better. My legs can almost move again.” To prove her point, Lemrina exerts some effort and her legs kick.

Eddelrittuo’s eyes grow wide again, but for the first time since her arrival, she smiles warmly. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you!”

“I’m done, we can relocate to my room,” Inaho says, trying to steer them towards privacy, but to his surprise Eddelrittuo scrunches up her nose. 

“Why would I want to visit your room?”

So she wasn’t sent by Mazuurek due to a sensitive topic. “That’s fine then. So, why are you here?”

She stomps her foot. “Count Mazuurek he… he gave me a vacation! ” The last word is said as a wail.

Inaho looks to Lemrina, assuming this is a cultural thing. 

Lemrina is frowning slightly. “Vacation…? Oh, yes, I recall that concept.” She giggles and turns to Inaho. “Receiving time off isn’t expected for martians, especially not those… those of us who work directly with the Royal Family. That is a privilege, you see, and needing to rest would imply weakness and dissatisfaction with the work. At most you receive a day or so of rest a month.”

“And I’m not tired!” Eddelrittuo whined. “I didn’t become Her Majesty’s personal maid on a whim! I was picked as the best, and I never shirked from duty!”

Child and slave labor rolled in one. Hm, is this a consequence of the harsh conditions of the planet, resulting in the need for more work and less ethics? Something similar even if not as drastic did occur in Japan after—

This isn’t the time for that. “That is stupid,” he says bluntly. “People need rest, for the sake of their psychological health. There are countless studies on it. Outside of martial law, Earth has civil rights and labor laws in place to protect people, and I assume Mazuurek is trying to implement them.”

Eddelrittuo sniffs. “Yes, he mentioned something of the kind. And said that…” She raised her head up proudly. “As a former maid of Her Majesty and someone that others hold in high esteem in the Landing Castle, I had to be the example to do it first, because if I did it, others would naturally follow.”

So are you upset or not? “So you decided to visit me?” Inaho doesn’t bother to hide the incredulity in his voice. Lemrina bites her lip, but it’s clear she’s stifling laughter.

Eddelrittuo puts her hands on her hips, and looks up at Inaho vexed again. “Obviously this isn’t my idea of this ‘vacation’ thing. When the Count told me to take off from work, I wanted to hang around the Landing Castle to help out. It’s my time off so I could right? But then Mazuurek asked me to run errands.”

“... You could have refused. If it’s your vacation, it means time away from work.”

Eddelrittuo looks horrified. “ Disobey direct orders from the Count?! I am an exemplary maid! I would never! ”

Trying to comprehend this further might just undo all the progress I’ve done with my recovery. I’ll send Mazuurek a list of materials to help him when I can, he’ll need it . “I see. So, what was the errand?”

“He wanted me to bring you... this!” She reaches into her bag and takes out a carefully wrapped up bottle.

He unwraps it as Lemrina looks over his shoulder. “... Alcohol?”

Eddelrittuo is looking proud again. “Not just any alcohol! That liquor was especially made in Count Mazuurek’s territory! He said he wants to start promoting it to other places, so you better show respect and be thankful he let you have such a thing for free!”

Is he planning to supplement his economic revenue by finally taking up trading? This is a luxury item so it won’t have much of a big impact. Then again, if the impact is small, less attention to him earlier on. And the revenue from this could then be used to invest in better items…

“Tell him I appreciate it. I’ll keep it safe and share it with my sister when I return home.”

Eddelrittuo looks satisfied. “Good!” She glances at Lemrina and hesitates. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Is that her loyalty to the Royal family, or did she grow fond of Lemrina after being with her for two years? So long as it isn’t pity it should be—

“I’m fine , thank you,” Lemrina says, too curtly.

Whether Eddelrittuo meant is a friendly gesture or not no longer mattered; Lemrina had interpreted it as pity.

It’s not enough to deter Eddelrittuo. “Now that Count Mazuurek managed to kick me out, I’m going to stay here. I know that if I come back earlier he’ll just send me on another long errand again. So, if you need me, or you just want to talk about… about our work, you can call me!”

“There won’t be a need,” Lemrina insists.

“Certainly, give us your address,” Inaho says instead, and ignores the glare from Lemrina.

He doubted he’d need it, but it might be useful to know where she was staying at, to use her to move around if he needed an excuse.

*

Inaho is finally seen as fit to walk outside soon enough.

Lemrina wonders if she should be polite and act happy for him, but decides not to when Inaho barely blinks at the news.

“It’s only natural. I’ve been fit to do so for some time, but since I never insisted on leaving, they decided to make use of that and pay extra heed. Everything points to me being discharged on time, so naturally they can’t keep me away from open spaces for longer, as they need to see how I react to the public. Besides, the level of rehabilitation necessary has been exaggerated from the start, to dissuade the UFE from using me more.”

Lemrina shakes her head at the predictability of his answer and focuses on moving her feet, frustration bubbling at being unable to follow suit just yet.

“You started your own rehabilitation after mine,” Inaho points out. “If we consider time spent and results, you are making progress faster.”

Is he trying to console her for not being allowed to walk with him? It doesn’t quite work.

“It’s not as if I’m missing out on anything,” Lemrina says, more for herself than him, and even Inaho knows better than to contradict such a thing.

He could have argued in favor of allowing her, accompanied by him, to walk outside with her crutches. However, while Inaho knows the UFE is not monitoring his every move, he has plans he’d rather not have something as conspicuous as someone on crutches accompanying him.

He barely pays attention to the rest of the medical facility as he walks to the exit; he only notes that it remains unchanged, as expected. 

Outside he pauses and pays more attention. The flow of people remains the same as the last time he had been there. No, perhaps it had increased slightly.

Nothing he’d seen had reached the number of crowds he’d witnessed in his birth city before the war, but compared to other places, he supposed this city could be considered of the more populated ones for the current standards.

Just as well for him, as with that many people, he’d be able to find an exclusive martian bar.

Not that, technically, exclusivity was allowed. Asseylum had been vocal against bars that attempted to be specific to any race… which did not mean people had not found ways to circumvent that.

There are two places he’s been told of. One is a bar recommended by Lemrina, as the base for those of her faction in the city.

Not that she had to tell him that. The name alone was clear enough the owner was feeling disinclined to the current martian rule: The Sons of Zeus . 

Even as Inaho is amused at the name —is it overconfidence that no one would understand the bar was, in a way, referencing the Dioscuri , or boldness to not care for consequences?— he would rather not go there. He wants to hear the regular opinion of martians, not the chatter of already converted dissidents.

Which brings him to the restaurant recommended by Mazuurek.

He finds it, entrance half hidden in a narrow alley, and it’s name is equally amusing to him: Prometheus Restaurant .

Martians quite enjoy their Greek. I wonder if the connection in name is on purpose.

There is no window to the inside, and the door is closed, manned by a waitress who jumps to attention when it becomes clear Inaho plans to enter.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man says politely, “I’m afraid we are full. Do you have a reservation, sir?”

And as easily as that, a place could guarantee exclusivity while flying under the radar.

Wordlessly, Inaho takes out and shows him the token Mazuurek had long ago handed him for such a situation. The waiter examines it and smiles, opening the door for him to enter.

It’s dimly lit and, while not truly full, has a decent number of seated people. Inaho finds a table in between two filled ones and sits down. A television overhead is playing the news. He orders something and settles down for listening in.

For a while, nothing relevant is being said. At the table behind him are a couple who are lightly mocking their Count and laughing at their brilliance at having used an errand to make a date week between them. The table in front of Inaho has three martians who are unaffiliated to any Count —did they defect or have their Count die? They never say, but all martians on Earth are military so they must have worked for one— discussing the jobs they’ve been doing in the city to make ends meet. Sadly nothing relevant of the operations is being said, as they are clearly very low on the hierarchy and simply bemoan their work.

And then food and drinks arrive for both tables, and the conversations all converge into awe. Awe at what they’re currently tasting, reminiscent awe over things they’ve tasted before, and hopeful awe at what they’re planning to taste next.

Inaho’s own appetizer arrives, and it isn’t anything he hasn't tasted before.

If martians are still reacting like this to terran food after all this time, then the quality of their food on Vers is worse than I presumed.

And then, finally, something of use to him is said.

It happens, naturally, the moment the television brings news of Asseylum. A hush falls over the restaurant as everyone, even the waiters, stop to look at the news.

It’s nothing much: Asseylum is seen somewhere in Africa, talking to an affected population still struggling after the war, saying she feels for their plight and pledging to help.

“We are all humans,” Asseylum says to a microphone, surrounded by bodyguards, “we should not be harming each other. Vers will make up for the pain it caused our terran brothers and sisters.”

“Why are they so sure the war is the cause for their issues?” Someone grumbles in the restaurant. “I heard terrans were all fighting themselves before we came along.”

“Right, right. That’s why Vers was created in the first place, wasn’t it? To get less people on  Earth to fix their problems.”

“Why is she pledging to help them when she hasn’t even helped us ?” One of the people on the table ahead of Inaho says, voice a little too loud. His companion hisses at him for it, but no one else tries to argue.

No other complaint is forthcoming, but even Inaho can read the displeasure on the faces around him. It’s soon gone, however.

This is not enough for a revolution, but the dissatisfaction has already settled in. If the dissidents want, they can spread and increase resentment until Asseylum’s defenders become the minority.

Inaho waits longer, but there is nothing else of note.

As he leaves, he glances at the name of the restaurant again, and wonders if in the future any call back to Prometheus will be removed.

*

Slaine lays in his bed, running over his talk with Klancain again. No matter how much he thinks back to it, or how much time passes, he can’t get any additional clarity.

Inaho should be coming back in less than a month, if he doesn’t dawdle, but Slaine doubts he will bring back any news of Klancain. Even if the man had requested that he keep the identity from Inaho, it would be foolish of him to go so soon. Whoever he has in his pocket in the UFE might accept a meeting with Slaine… but one followed quickly by a meeting with Inaho? No, Klancain had done everything slowly so far, he could afford to wait longer.

Slaine frowns as he looks at the dark ceiling. That is something he’s wondering about. Why has Klancain been so slow? Certainly, by letting things run their course, the martian acceptance of the Empress may decrease naturally… but he runs the risk of terrans fortifying themselves. Is it a mere oversight of Klancain’s? Slaine doubts it. Either Klancain has less power than he seems, and thus can barely make a move, or he is waiting for something.

How many times have I come back to this? There’s no point, there are too many possibilities, I need Inaho’s insight for this.

Not that Slaine is too frustrated. He had expected to gleam little from the conversation; his main priority was finally seeing who the leader was, and setting in motion his plan with Inaho.

If nothing else, hopefully I succeeded in…

In keeping Inaho alive?

Slaine blinks, and sits up from his bed as the realization dawned. He quickly covers his mouth with a hand before a nervous laugh escapes. He doesn’t want the guard coming in wondering why he is awake.

He could have gotten rid of him. Inaho is useful, but hardly as much as he had been before the brain damage. Not to mention, his status as a terran makes it clear where his allegiances would always truly lie.

If Slaine had wanted to, he could have instead told Klancain that Inaho will be a liability, no matter how nice he is to Slaine in his captivity. The Warden is in Klancain’s pocket, so is Harklight.

Honestly… they could even recreate what they had done for the Empress: stage an accident, murder Inaho, put Lemrina in disguise in his place.

Laughter bubbles again, and Slaine grabs the pillow to muffle it.

He hadn’t even contemplated that. He had so little desire of wanting to harm Inaho now that when the singular chance presented itself all he could focus on was how to protect him instead.

All that time he had wanted him gone and yet failed at every turn… and finally the opportunity only presents itself when he no longer has any desire to do it.

It truly is as if the universe is laughing at him.

Even so… more than the hilarious irony of it all, the situation feels… freeing.

For the first time, for truly the first time, Slaine feels the burden of their roles gone.

No matter how much Inaho treated him as an equal, and no matter how much Slaine truly believed it, the fact never changed that Inaho had his life in his hands.

Now, even if a little, Slaine has a similar power.

Maybe it shouldn’t change anything, yet it does, even if Slaine can’t quite place what.

*

“Do you have a detailed world map? No, of course you don’t. Do you have a personal device that can use the internet?”

Lemrina blinks. Inaho visiting her room was unexpected enough, and his appearance by asking strange questions was even more so.

“... Yes, I do not have a map. And no, I don’t have a personal device of that sort. Why?”

Inaho sits down on her bed. “I knew the probability was very low, but had to check.”

She observes him. She still can’t read his face, but Inaho is talking faster and being ruder than normal. 

This may be his way of being upset. “What’s wrong? Why the map? Why not use your tablet?”

Inaho sighs. “They took away my personal tablet when I got here and gave me a pre-approved one, to avoid my looking at material that might overload my neural senses.”

“And this new tablet won’t allow you to look at a map?”

“It would. But it’s not as safe as mine.”

“Start from the beginning. Why do you need a map and why must it be kept a secret?”

“Inko called me. Inko is—”

“I know who she is, Rayet told me.”

“Inko and my other friends had been planning to pass by me here in a week, but the Deucalion’s route has been changed.”

“... I’m not following.” She hates to admit it, but she doubts Inaho will explain if she doesn't say it.

Inaho hesitates before replying. “The Deucalion has a pre-established route. It has never needed to be changed.”

“Did Inko not have a reason for the change?”

“They told her that with the escalating tension and suspicion due to the Landing Castle massacre, they want to avoid the Deucalion moving in the same pattern as it has for the last year, to avoid it becoming a target from martians. And the new route would also be better for monitoring all the Landing Castles as it focuses on Europe.”

Lemrina huffs. “Well, apart from the fact that we know it wasn’t my people that did it, isn’t this a logical step? The Deucalion is the most well known symbol of terran power, after all.”

“As you said, the UFE knows martians are nowhere near to attacking them yet. That said, yes, this could be simply a ruse to make it more believable that the UFE is just as worried and in the dark about the attack as anyone else. However, there are two other possibilities.”

“Which are?”

“They could be using this to have attention focused on the Deucalion, and with that act elsewhere without being noticed.”

Finally Lemrina understands. “They want attention on the Deucalion to attack another Landing Castle.”

“Possibly. However these two hypothesis—”

“Are you not exerting yourself?”

Inaho frowns. “I have less than three weeks before I’m discharged. I can do this much without backlash.”

“Alright. You were saying?”

“The two hypothesis we’ve talked about so far are easy to verify: if the Deucalion changing route becomes news, then indeed either the UFE wants to act worried over martians, or it wants attention diverted to the Deucalion. I’ve already checked the news, and there is nothing of the sort so far.”

“It could be early days yet. Official announcements often need to be reviewed. If your friends just learned of it, maybe it’s still being sent to the press. But, where does the map come in?”

“... If this change isn’t advertised at all, then something else is being done. I have one or two ideas, but I don’t want to voice probabilities without first checking a map. My knowledge of the European continent isn’t detailed enough to visualize their route and what they’ll be passing through without one.”

“... I think they’ll be allowing me to walk out of this place soon, I could look for one.”

“Bringing back a map will be strange. There is a museum close by. My sister took me to it the first time I was here, there’s a map that will suffice. I would go there myself but, in this case I think it would be prudent to be careful. So I’d like to have you with me as an excuse.”

“Alright. But if you need to acquire one faster—”

“I don’t. Even if we had confirmation, there is nothing we can do, so we might as well be cautious about it.”

“... I see.”

*

There is no news of the Deucalion the next day, or the next, or the following days either.

Lemrina sees Inaho frown sometimes, as he watches the news channels intently.

Perhaps a kinder person than Lemrina might try to placate him with platitutes on how maybe the staff is hiding such information from them, as a means to avoid a lapse in Inaho’s recovery now that it is almost done.

No, there is no reason for them to hide something so simple from him. And he isn’t the sort to feel better by silly words.

It is, however, frustrating to not know what are the possibilities Inaho is worrying about. But Lemrina’s pride won’t let her beg for information he has already refused to impart. She can demand answers again when they manage to procure a map.

If Slaine was around, he’d be able to keep up with Kaizuka and would explain it to me without acting like it’s an obvious conclusion to make.

“Your— Lemrina?” A timid voice brings her back from her reverie, and Lemrina is forced to focus on Eddelrittuo again.

The maid had decided to visit her, and Lemrina didn’t want to cause a stir by refusing to meet.

Worst of all, Eddelrittuo had assured her yet again she’d spend the remainder of her vacation nearby, in case Lemrina wanted her help.

“I apologize, my mind was far off. You were saying?” She asks with a plastered smile.

“N-Not a problem! I just said that it’s amazing how much progress you’ve made!”

Lemrina wants to use her once again functioning legs to kick the girl. Instead she keeps on her smile and pretends to focus on her physical exercise, to avoid having to look at Eddelrittuo.

It’s not, truly, as if the maid has done her ill. She treated Lemrina very well during their time working together, giving her the full respect and attention a legitimate royal member deserved.

… But Lemrina had caught her wistful gazes at her comatose sister. Much like Slaine, Eddelrittuo had seen her as a replacement for Asseylum, and had always hoped that was only temporary.

Of course, if she had forgiven Slaine for that, she could hardly lash out at Eddelrittuo for the same.

No, if the maid’s former actions had simply not created a bond between them, it had not brought out vengeance as well. What was making Lemrina wish to kick the girl out was her actions now. More precisely, her looks.

The pity. The terrible pity in her eyes. Eddelrittuo had never loved her, yet here she is throwing out praises for every little thing. As if she had seen Lemrina as so pitiful and weak that even this much success was beyond expectation. As if she needed validation to succeed. As if she was so miserable she needed the pity of a pathetic little maid who couldn’t even decide her own loyalties.

Slaine is alive. She wants to say that. It would shock Eddelrittuo more than any slap or kick would. She has the words on the tip of her tongue.

You think you can afford to act like I’m beneath you? Like I need your pity and your kindness and your silly little praises? Do you think your words or existence mean anything to me, change anything of mine? Foolish little girl! Pity yourself and the stupid life you’ve led. You gave your all to my sister, did you know she has kept Slaine prisoner all this time? She lied about his involvement, while he is alive and kicking and thanks to her, will never see the light of day! Pity—

She realizes she is stepping too hard and stops, breathing in deeply. To not only shake Eddelrittuo, but even make her fully push away Asseylum would feel vindictive but…

But that feeling would leave, and I’ll just feel guilty. This girl is so young. If my sister, who prepared all her life to rule, can turn out so pathetic, who am I to grow bitter over a little maid, who was taught nothing at all?

So what if she pities me now. I won’t be forced to bear this for long. Soon she will leave, and Kaizuka will treat me like I’m not in rehabilitation at all. Then I can go see Rayet, and Slaine, and Harklight, who will be happy for me but won’t look at me like I’m a charity case…

She sighs. Eddelrittuo is immediately alert.

“Is everything alright? Should I call someone? Can I help?”

Lemrina looks at the eager little face… and pities her instead.

“I might have stepped incorrectly just now, help me to a seat.” She doesn’t request, she demands, even if softly, yet Eddelrittuo happily obliges.

Maybe she doesn’t pity me as much as I think. Maybe what she wants is to be useful. Is she trying to make up for having chosen Asseylum?

… It doesn’t matter. Let her have her peace. I’ve found mine.

As for Slaine… no, she wouldn’t tell her. It would help no one.

Enough people are broken. If all goes well, one day she will know the truth. Let her have her last few moments of innocence.

Eddelrittuo helps her to a seat. Lemrina looks at her and smiles. “Thank you,” she says, then can’t help but giggle.

“What is it?”

“Oh, I apologize for laughing. I’m just… happy I’ve come this far.”

Actually, I’m imagining Rayet’s face if I tell her meeting her has stopped me from lashing out at a martian.

*

Another week, and finally Lemrina’s legs are good enough that she’s allowed out. She makes a show of telling staff she wants to visit the museum she heard is nearby, and Inaho agrees to take her there.

Inaho glances at Lemrina as they walk unheeded towards the exit of the medical facility. She seems focused on walking but nothing else.

Then again, this won’t be the first terran city she has visited, so it’s expected that she wouldn’t be nervous or excited about it.

They walk through a doorway and find themselves in a crowded corridor, with nurses running left and right, and people with physical disabilities being helped around. Inaho ignores it all, naturally as he’s been walking by alone for a while now, but Lemrina pays attention.

“It’s always surprising when I see how crowded the rest of the facility is,” Lemrina says as they pass by the doorway to a room where some wait in a line for physical training.

“It’s because we have connections, so we are rewarded with more space fully dedicated to us.”

Lemrina sighs. “I know.”

“This way,” Inaho says, then walks without waiting for her. His pace isn’t fast, so Lemrina can keep up without struggle. A good thing, as she’d never put herself low enough to ask Kaizuka to slow down for her sake.

Lemrina looks at their surroundings intently as they walk, then turns to him. “I always wondered, looking at all the buildings, is the sparse population a direct result of the last war only?”

“It depends on the location. Although everywhere was impacted by the last attempted invasion, many locations were already partially abandoned as a result of Heaven’s Fall.”

“... Although Mars is a vast planet, the habitable land is small. I have heard the soldiers talk about it, and seen pictures: the streets are lined with people. They have barely any space to walk, much less live. Meanwhile Earth has all this space… Vers could come here and inhabit it without needing to kill more terrans.”

“It’s not so simple. Not every land is equal in resources. Not everywhere can handle now the population density it once could.”

“I know. I’m just saying, it isn’t impossible.”

Inaho doesn’t bother to answer, as they’ve reached their destination. 

The museum was hastily created; Inaho assumes the reasoning being that with the popular medical facility nearby, the museum might thrive.

It was set up in an abandoned office building with a large reception area.

“Lead the way,” Inaho whispers; although he is now certain he is being too cautious, since he can afford to do so, he will.

Lemrina nods, and steps ahead as if leading Inaho to where she wants to go. They pass by the entrance to the martian center as she heads straight to where the Earth exhibit is.

As expected, the room is dominated with a hologram 3-D map of Earth as it is. Thankfully, they are alone.

Inaho reaches out to touch it, and the map amplifies where his fingertip landed.

“It’s interactive, if you want,” he says nonchalantly to Lemrina, who nods and pushes him aside, understanding her cue.

She looks at the map: Inaho had amplified it in Europe. 

Was that by chance or is that where he wants me to focus? This is Kaizuka, I’m sure even this was thought out.

Unwilling to ask for more directions, Lemrina focuses on pretending to be engrossed in it.

It soon isn’t pretense.

So much land, and it all had people living in it? Or perhaps, like the city itself, there was so much space for more…

Focus.

Inaho had told her what to look for before they’d arrived, so she simply scrolls around Europe, between the parts Inaho wants and her random choices.

She’s not sure how long she stood there; being able to see a detailed layout of Earth really did interest her, but eventually Inaho cuts her wandering hand.

“You’ve spent too much time at this, let’s go back,” he says, and Lemrina instinctively becomes defensive.

“It wasn’t that long!” She snaps, before realizing it’s likely just his excuse now that he’s seen enough. Lemrina tries to read the conclusion on his face, but it’s fruitless as usual.

Lemrina wishes she could say she patiently waited until they were back to the medical center to demand answers, but she makes it only as far as the empty road before rounding on Inaho.

“So?”

Inaho doesn’t look at her, but his brows crease slightly. “You need to understand this is mere conjecture, although I believe the probability of this happening to be around 80%—”

“Yes, yes! What is your theory?”

“... The Count that is currently aggressively campaigning against the UFE has a protection the last Count did not. His Landing Castle is based deep within the continent, so using abandoned ships like the last operation isn’t a possibility.”

“So the UFE would use the Deucalion? But that is so conspicuous.”

“Yes, too much so. There are abandoned military bases or simply half destroyed cities all over Earth that could be used for a short, secret, operation. Initially I had assumed that the UFE would take time, around months, to slowly arm and staff one of those near the Landing Castle without their movements being noticed. To try and make use of that in a short period without anyone noticing the movement of armaments and personnel would normally not be possible, in the layout.”

“Which is why you thought the Deucalion might be used as a distraction? Because while everyone looks at it, they could operate more freely?”

“Yes, but that is also flawed. Not everyone will focus that much on a simple route change, and not for long enough, unless they plan to have the Deucalion do more for attention. However, it’s been a week and so far there has been no news about it; which brings me to my other theory, which the map has confirmed.”

“Which is?”

“... The Deucalion will be used to transport people and tools to a chosen settlement. Whenever they land in a larger city, they’ll likely get people to secretly board along with equipment, then drop them off at strategic spots. Given the size of the Deucalion, and that the UFE can also supplement what it carries through some small ground operations, they can speed it up and have the bare minimum for training ready in weeks, and launch an attack in less time afterwards.”

“... You got all that from a map.” To her chagrin, Lemrina’s words don’t come at as flat as she hoped, and there’s a small tone of admiration.

If Inaho notices it, he takes no heed and simply shrugs. “Not necessarily just that map. I had previous knowledge I needed to confirm by viewing one.”

“So you knew which settlement they’d use for operations.”

“No, there are countless places and bases that could work. The relevant information isn’t that, but the traceability of the route chosen.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Not all of Earth is covered in connectivity. The war, the destruction, the weapons used all caused spots where signals and transmissions don’t work well or at all unless you are side by side. Even if the Deucalion did carry equipment and people, anyone tracing it would notice if it kept landing in a spot that should have nothing. However, if the Deucalion does the landing in a transmission blind spot, no one far away would be able to tell.”

“So you… knew where the blindspots were?”

“I had a general overview, as it was necessary to either avoid or use them when we were in the Deucalion, especially trying to reach the Russian base. The map was necessary to confirm my memory: the route they are taking does pass through blindspots, two of which are right over abandoned bases.”

“I believe that’s what must be happening.”

“Don’t be too sure just yet. But we might know soon enough, maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell Dr. Yagarai I plan to stay another week around here after my treatment is done. If the UFE, however, tells me to go back home when it’s done, or even recalls me before I am done—”

Lemrina sucks in her breath. “They’ll want you to return to prepare to bring in Slaine.”

“Precisely. Obviously they could take longer and take Slaine by other means, but the longer the transport, the more danger of Slaine being seen or escaping there is, which they will never risk. In twenty six days the Deucalion will be on the route point nearest to Slaine’s location, so that is when they’ll want him to board it.”

“Let’s think of something we can do with the information in the meanwhile,” Lemrina says, though what she really means is that she’s hoping Kaizuka can come up with a plan.

“I don’t know if there is anything to be done.”

“There must be!”

*

But when they arrive back, Dr. Yagarai is waiting for them, looking both grave and apologetic.

“Inaho… I truly am sorry but… your presence was requested back in your home. Your… work has been piling up, it seems.”

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Notes:

-A sentence was changed in the last chapter in the exchange between Inaho and Yagarai. I forgot that it was clear the UFE knew Inaho could use aldnoah, and a comment thankfully reminded me. The sentence was changed not long after I posted it, so if you've read last chapter recently, you probably got the corrected setence.

-I forgot to add this to ch39 but, after the 2year wait between ch37 and 38 I never imagined I'd get so many comments. I'm really thankful for everyone who comes back to read despite the ridiculous update frequency and then comment too!

-On how aldnoah works: I talked it over with some people. Many thanks to the Discord group chat for giving me the supposed poem that explain how it works. That said, the whole “oh it works with love/loyalty” thing is… bullshit to me. For many reasons. I wanted to explain them here but… let’s see if the characters don't eventually explain in the fic. If they don't, i'll make a future note explaining the reasoning behind what Ive chosen. because I have given up and decided I need to pick what I want because canon is so filled with plotholes over this that there is no valid answer there.

-My beta has begged me to go back and beta the early chapters (which had no beta). After even commenters started offering to beta those chapters, I came to the conclusion they were really that in need of work, so my beta is not only betaing the new chapter, but has now gone back to do former chapters too. Thank my poor beta. As of this moment, chapters 01 has been redone and reuploaded to AO3 a bit after this new chapter. I need to figure out if reuploading old chapters will make AO3 act like I’m uploading new content. I dont want to reupload and accidently have readers think theres new chapters, so I might only reupload along with new content, depending.

Regardless, here are the changes being made, so you guys dont fret: NO changes to story. No matter how cheesy or clunky i feel dialogue or plot progression used to be, any redoing of written plot will not be done, and in the rare case that I realize I should redo it, I will absolutely warn people in current chapter notes. But i feel like that cheapens the experience and i dont recall a need for that, so assume NO plot content is being altered. Changes are: fixing grammar and punctuation mistakes. Also removing the usage of “blond” “brunet” descriptors, as I’ve since realized using those arent that good and its better to just work harder on sentences to use names without too much repetition. Clunky or cheesy sentences will stay as they were (though my beta is still also fixing those in the current chapters).

-Deucalion is Prometheus son.

[whumptopia]

My Cup Runneth Over

d&d oc whump commissioned by [anon]

content warnings: blood drinking, terminal illness, very brief emeto mention

—

Rolith never imagined he would step foot inside a vampire’s home for any reason other than to slaughter the fiend, yet here he is, knocking on the front door of Lord Serador’s estate with no malicious intentions to be found. He’s been tasked to perform a wellness check on the behalf of Queen Juliet, the matriarch of Willowfen, or the independent human settlement they both call home. As the town’s military leader, he receives his orders directly from her and spends a sizable portion of his time advising the crown. They’ve built up a healthy working relationship over the years, and she trusts him indubitably. She told him she was worried about Serador because he returned the Empyreal Wand (the Queen’s family heirloom, which she gave him in return for his help in solving their werewolf problem). Considering how badly the vampire initially wanted the wand, her highness saw his generosity as cause for concern.

Brows furrowing, Rolith glances down at the wand. Although Serador seems to be somewhat less of a prick than most vampiric nobility, Rolith still can’t imagine him helping them for free. There must be another reason why he returned it.

As time passes and his knock remains unanswered, Rolith begins to suspect the Queen’s worry was well-founded. Unwilling to wait any longer, he reaches for the door knob and, surprisingly, finds it unlocked. Perhaps Serador doesn’t consider the animal inhabitants of his domain to be any threat to his safety. Still, in Rolith’s experience, an unlocked front door is never a good sign. He might be young for a military leader (all of the older commanders perished in the fight to free Willowfen from vampiric rule, leaving the next generation to carry the torch alone) but he’s seen enough in his lifetime to know a bad situation when he sees one.

Without hesitation or any regard for proper manners, he slips inside. As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s consumed by darkness. All of the windows are covered, and none of the candles are lit, so he unsheathes his sword and casts Daylight upon the blade. The spell causes the metal to glow and illuminate the foyer. White brightness crawls into every nook and cranny, and he takes a look around.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The manor is archaically well-decorated, of course, but it’s in bad shape. Nothing has been cleaned in ages: the painted portraits are peeling, the wood paneling is dusty, and the ceiling is covered in cobwebs. A shudder of unease rolls down his spine, and he heads toward the stairs, hoping to find Serador quickly so he can get out of this place.

“Hello?” he calls, marching up the creaking steps, “Serador? You here?”

He reaches the second floor and starts down the hallway toward the East Wing. All of the heavy, velvet curtains are drawn closed, but specks of light peek through moth holes. The state of Serador’s house reaffirms his suspicions about his well being. During the period of their alliance thus far, Rolith has noticed that there’s something not quite right with him. The vampire seems to have little to no regard for his health, the most prominent example being the time when he overexerted himself in battle to the extent that he was vomiting blood for hours after. At the time, Rolith tried to help, but he was brushed off. They’ve never discussed the matter. Even when he’s not visibly ill, Serador always has dark circles underneath his red eyes, and his pale skin is more gaunt than even a vampire’s complexion should be. There’s definitely something wrong with him. If only Rolith knew what the problem was.

Turning a corner, he spots an open door at the end of the hall. He heads straight for it, entering the room without preamble, anxious about what he might find. 

“Mother of God,” a familiar voice groans. It’s Serador. He’s lying in his bed, his eyes slammed shut against the white glow. “Put that out.”

Rolith waves his hand to disperse the magic, and the vampire sighs in relief at the ensuing darkness. His comfort is short-lived, however, because the paladin immediately strides over to the nearest window and throws open the curtains, letting the evening sunlight in. Serador hisses. Rolith ignores him.

“Your door was unlocked,” he says, turning around to face him. Serador’s bed is ornate and massive, a large canopy frame that’s almost as tall as the ceiling. Propped up by a mountain of pillows and tucked under the covers, the vampire looks none too pleased about being seen in such a vulnerable state. His red eyes immediately hone in on the Emperyal Wand.

“What are you doing with that?” he asks brusquely. “I returned it to your Queen.”

Rolith sheaths his sword and places the wand down on the nearest surface. “But you didn’t tell her why.”

The vampire shifts. “I no longer desire it.”

Approaching his bedside, Rolith takes a moment to more thoroughly examine his appearance. Gone is the demeanor of a haughty immortal. The creature before him looks sickly, and the sheets surrounding him are covered in blood. His chin is stained red.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rolith demands. The vampire doesn’t answer, averting his eyes. He makes a face and then coughs into his elbow. His throat makes a wet, gurgling sound, and his shirt sleeve is soaked in crimson.

Alarm bells go off in the paladin’s head. The carnage isn’t from feeding. It’s not the blood of his prey. It’s his own.

“Serador.”

“What?” he gasps, breathless and clearly annoyed.

“You know what. You look like you’re dying. You need a cleric or, or something,” Rolith says, running a hand through his blonde hair and wracking his mind for a way to help. He doesn’t know much about vampire physiology. Information regarding their weaknesses is kept secret by the vampiric nobility. Before this very moment, he thought they couldn’t even get sick in the first place.

Intent on rushing out of the manor and grabbing the first healer he comes across, he moves toward the door to leave, but Serador clears his throat and makes him pause.

“A cleric won’t help,” he says.

Crossing his arms, Rolith glares at him. “So you know what’s wrong with you?”

Serador sighs deeply. He looks miserable. His cheeks are hollow, and his limbs sag with every movement as if his very bones are weighing him down. Rolith hates seeing him like this.

“I was cursed a long time ago, in a blood feud. The curse manifests as an illness of sorts, weakening me until eventually…” Rolith shrugs, “Well, I assume it’ll kill me someday. It’s been a decades now.”

The vampire’s casual tone makes it difficult for Rolith to immediately comprehend the meaning of his words, but the more he thinks about it, the more everything begins to make sense. He recalls every time he’s witnessed Serador utterly drained after battle, and the pieces of the puzzle slot together in his mind. “You’re cursed?”

Serador gives him a tired look. “Yes. I thought perhaps the wand could cure me, but I doubt it.”

Rolith raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even try?” At this, he marches over to the table and grabs the wand, determination pumping through his veins. “You’re dying. You should at least try.”

“It would destroy the wand,” Serador explains, struggling to sit upright, “and the odds of success are low. It’s more important to preserve it for future generations if there is to be any hope for an insurrection.”

Rolith looks at the wand skeptically. “I thought it was just an heirloom.”

The vampire coughs into his fist, his shoulders shaking in violent jerks. “The Queen’s father was a legendary cleric, as you know. If you and your people want to harness the power of the forbidden magics and overthrow the corrupt court, then you’ll need that wand.” He gives Rolith a pointed look. “I can’t teach you everything.”

The paladin frowns. It’s true Serador taught him illegal spells to use against the undead. The enchantments aided him in defeating an evil witch, but the vampire was burned by simply being in close-proximity when Rolith cast the spell. Serador has taken great risks in aiding them in their goal of freeing humankind… and now he would sacrifice his only chance at life for their sakes?

Rolith shakes his head. “Then there has to be another way to break the curse.”

The vampire sports a wry smile. “As much as I admire your optimism, I’ve been around for much longer than you’ve been alive. I doubt there’s a cure.”

“Well, I’ll find one,” he asserts, leveling Serador with a challenging look. He doesn’t appreciate being told what he can and cannot do by vampires, especially when he’s trying to help. He takes a step closer to the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, fire burning in his blue eyes.

“You might’ve given up on your life, but I—we haven’t. Queen Juliet wishes to continue her alliance with you. Your help has been immeasurable, and I know the other paladins feel the same. You’ve saved my life multiple times. It’s only right that I return the favor.” Rolith takes a gamble and reaches for the vampire’s hand, squeezing his pale fingers in a reassuring grip. “I’ll help you break the curse. I promise.”

Serador meets his gaze with an unreadable expression. Rolith has always struggled to understand him because of their differences. He’s loathed all vampires for so long, it’s taken him a while to realize that Serador is a valuable ally and a good person. Before he can even attempt to dissect the nuances of his face, Serador breaks his silence.

“Do you ever cease to be charming?” he murmurs. It’s the first compliment the vampire has ever given him, and the words level Rolith. His breath catches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Only on my days off. Right now I’m here on the Queen’s dime.”

The vampire pulls his hand away to brush back several strands of long, white hair from his face. “Of course you are.”

Rolith smiles briefly before his face settles into a grave expression once again. Although he enjoys how far they have come since meeting each other (Serador no longer calls him ‘boy’ in a derogatory way), the pleasantness of their camaraderie is overshadowed by the revelation of a deadly curse.

“What can I do to help? You’re not going to be confined to your bed forever, right?”

“I should hope not,” the vampire huffs, smoothing down the stained sleeves of his black robes. “I should be back to normal in a couple days. It comes and goes in waves.”

“What about…” Rolith bites his lip and gestures vaguely, “When was the last time you fed?”

Serador’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It’s been a while.”

Eager to help, an idea forming in his mind, Rolith continues, “Would that help? If you had something?”

The vampire sets his jaw. He doesn’t speak. Rolith takes that as a yes. His hand goes to his blade, and Serador makes an insulted noise.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I won’t allow it.”

The paladin unsheathes his sword and rests it in his lap. “Why not? I’m perfectly healthy, you’re on the verge of death… if I can hasten your recovery—”

“No,” Serador cuts in, his voice stronger than it has been all throughout their conversation thus far. He seems resolute in his refusal, but Rolith knows that a vampire’s morality blurs at the edges of hunger, so he takes a deep breath and presses the sharp edge of his blade against his palm. He pauses there, waiting for protest, but Serador doesn’t say anything further to stop him, so he drags the sword across his skin and slices open a thin red cut. It stings, but only a few beads of blood rise to the surface. He looks Serador in the eye. The vampire’s breathing is labored as if his fight against his baser instincts is a physical effort.

“I trust you,” Rolith reassures, even though he knows he’s already won this argument. “Just take a little bit, since you’re so worried. I’ll even get it healed later today.”

Serador raises a trembling arm and wraps his clammy fingers around his wrist in a delicate manner, gently pulling his hand closer. With his other hand, he caresses the inside of his forearm soothingly, as if calming a spooked animal. Shivers race down Rolith’s spine, but he isn’t afraid of a little pain. He’s willing to endure it for a friend. 

Serador opens his mouth and slowly sinks his fangs into the cut, widening the wound a bit. An odd sensation spreads across his palm—the venom must be numbing him. The vampire seals his lips over the cut and sucks slowly, eyes closed. The whole affair feels strangely intimate, and although he knows blood is being leached from his body, Rolith can’t look away. He doesn’t tell him to stop, either. He was serious when he said he intended to find a way to break Serador’s curse. He doesn’t intend to let the vampire wither away anytime soon.

A couple minutes later, some of the color has returned to Serador’s face, and he pulls away with a wet pop. Rolith’s fingers are tingling, but otherwise he feels fine. The vampire licks the wound clean and then grasps his palm with both hands. Warmth spreads across his skin in a flash of golden light, and when Serador lets go, the cut has healed.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Rolith says, rubbing his thumb across his palm where the slice had been. Serador sits back against his pile of pillows, evening his breath. His face is placid, but underneath his calm demeanor, he looks refreshed.

“You didn’t need to offer yourself to me,” he counters with a tilt of his head.

“I wanted to.” Rolith wipes his blade clean on the sheets, earning a disgruntled huff from the owner of the bed, before sheathing his weapon.

“If I were in a better state, I would’ve never let you do something so unnecessary and, frankly, dangerous,” Serador insists, coming back to himself now. He looks embarrassed, but he really shouldn’t be, in Rolith’s opinion. “Don’t try that again.”

“Alright,” the paladin agrees. He doesn’t regret encouraging Serador to drink from him against his wishes. If it keeps Serador alive, he’ll do it, even if it makes the vampire uncomfortable. He recognizes that he overstepped a boundary, though, so he stands up from the bed and looks away. “I’m sorry.”

Serador snorts. “You’re not. But you should be.”

Rolith’s lips quirk up in a half-smile, unbidden. “I have to tell the Queen why you returned the wand, you know.”

“I suppose you do.” The vampire doesn’t sound happy about that. “While you’re at it, tell her to stop sending trespassers into my home.”

Rolith’s smile broadens into a grin. He pockets the wand, handling it with much more care than he did previously. “I might advise her to send a cleaning crew over, if anything.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “You are one of the most audacious humans I have ever met.”

Rolith laughs, daring to meet the vampire’s eyes. He looked genuinely affronted, which only amuses him more. “You clearly haven’t met enough humans, then.”

“Clearly,” Serador drawls, “Now get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” Rolith shoots back, even though he would rather stay and ensure the vampire doesn’t drop dead anytime soon. He slowly moves toward the door, hesitant. The hallway is dark. He glances over his shoulder briefly and catches one last glimpse of Serador. He’s looking down at his hand, the evening sunlight casting shadows over the bed.

Rolith steps into the darkness and leaves before he can be caught watching.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Owl Letters Part 1 (Draco x Male Hufflepuff Reader)

This can be read even if you’re not a Hufflepuff. I know, “why the fuck is there another part” cause i’m a DUMBASS thats WHY. Used the italicised parts of the request. I will consider doing the second one in the future. 

Here’s part 2.

Requested by: (draco) anon

1. Being sent/finding anonymous love letters & Draco reveals it’s him 2. Draco constantly winks and flirts with the reader in the great hall/class 3. Reader crushing on Draco, but refuses to admit it bc of Draco’s attitude towards others. He catches on & reveals a sweeter, gentler side

Word count: 1485

"Seriously, what are you looking at?"

You turn to your friend with a huff.

"Nothing! Just zoning out," you muttered.

"Does zoning out include thinking about Draco Malfoy?" Elliot snickered.

You glared at him, then looked back down at your book with a blush.

"Oh, I think (Y/N) fancies someone!" whispered your other friend, Violet, as she leaned over from the Slytherin table.

"Go back to your house before you get in trouble, Violet," Elliot hissed.

"Fine, but you know I can get in a good word with Malfoy. He and I are close," she boasted.

"But you make fun of him?" you questioned.

"And have you seen him retaliate?"

You and Elliot gave each other a shrug in agreement. You reached across the table and shooed her away, and she pushed off of the bench to go back to her spot. A professor turned towards her direction before she was seen.

"I don't know how she does it," Elliot growled. "I think she's the only person in the entire school not to get in trouble."

"You're forgetting the Mandrake incident," you supplied. "And potions. And when she sent Malfoy a Howler telling him that he left his book in the common room."

You and Elliot smiled before breaking into a fit of giggles, going back to your studies. Naturally, yours consisted of looking at Draco from your strategically chosen seat where he was in your line of sight. He was too busy either talking to his own friends or studying, but you hadn't realised that his friends were not and took notice in your staring.

"Malfoy, I think someone fancies you," Blaise mumbled, his eyes trained on his quill.

"Really? Is it your quill?" Draco replied sarcastically.

"Take a look at the Hufflepuff table."

Draco turned around and scanned the Hufflepuff table behind him from his left to right with a piercing gaze. His eyes landed on you, and you quickly looked ahead of you with a jerk of your head. You started to whisper to your friend, who he knew to be Elliot.

"(L/N)?" Draco scoffed. "You must be joking. He would never speak to me even if I tried."

"Maybe it's because you made fun of his friend Kingston," Pansy sighed.

"Since when?!"

"Since you said he was muggle-born and he came right back at you with his family of wizards."

Draco huffed, a light blush forming on his cheeks in embarrassment.

"I've changed. And not many families have wizards and witches of all houses. How was I supposed to know?"

"Maybe stop being such a bloody arse and judging people," someone said.

Violet dropped into the small spot between him and Pansy, who quickly moved over to make room.

"Look, Draco. For some reason, my friend really likes you. And I have a feeling you like him too, since he's probably the only person you've never even slightly insulted. It's possible he sees something under your rude facade. Figure it out."

Draco was silent as she returned to her spot, once again narrowly avoiding getting caught by a professor. His eyes trained onto your blushing form, watching as you magically sent a crumpled up paper at Violet's head. Pansy waved her hand in front of his face, and he snapped back into reality.

"What?!"

"I said, Blaise and I have an idea," she smirked.

Receiving letters was your connection to the outside world. As much as you loved Hogwarts, you needed to know what was going on outside of your studies. Your muggle family members kept your parents in touch with the muggle world, so your life still included making fun of the Kardashians and looking forward to the latest films.

A letter from your parents dropped onto the table in front of you, and you grabbed it in excitement. You opened it quickly and began to read it to yourself.

"Elliot, they said they have a gift for me! And after I haven't heard from them in weeks," you said.

"I got a dumb toy," he sighed. "Oh wait, that's for you."

You both laughed, and he put away his own things in the box as you looked at the stuffed toy.

"This niffler is adorable! I'm keeping it forever."

You hugged it to yourself with a smile, and stole a quick glance at Draco. He was facing your table this time, and you locked eyes with him. You both looked away almost instantly.

"Hey, Malfoy's watching me," you mumbled. "Do I look dumb with this toy?"

"No way. He's probably just wondering what it is, growing up in a world of magic. If he thinks you look dumb, he'll have to answer to me," Elliot vowed.

"And Violet!" Violet said, hopping into the spot next to Elliot. "Hey, looks like you have another letter."

One of the last few owls swooped down to drop you a letter. You watched it leave with the others. You picked up the letter and examined it, finding only your name on it.

"What if it's cursed? There's nothing on this."

"Just open it!" Violet said. "We'll be right here to protect you."

You gave her a look before slowly opening it. You breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. The letter was well-written in a neat cursive, with clear ink lines from a new quill. It was pretty much just compliments for you and your dedication to learning magic. It warmed your heart and you couldn't help but smile as you read it.

"It's signed as a secret admirer," you said, showing it to Elliot and Violet.

"Wow, they sound dumb," Violet said without another thought.

"Stop, it's so sweet," Elliot scolded. "What if it's Malfoy?"

"It's not his handwriting," Violet said, still scanning the letter.

You and Elliot stared at her. You could feel yourself dropping a little, but not enough that they could tell.

"What? I get notes from him sometimes. And I'm not the one who has a crush on the most unlikeable wizard in all Hogwarts history."

"Hey, he is likeable!" you exclaimed defensively. "The main reason I like him at all is cause he really does care about people. I've seen it."

Elliot gave you a skeptical look, and Violet just went back to her seat. Eventually you had to leave the dining hall for classes.

When you started Care of Magical Creatures with Slytherins, you realised just how bad some students could be around animals. It was easy for you because you liked animals, but it seemed some people were really bad with them. More specifically, Draco Malfoy, who couldn't get near an animal to save his own life. He sat next to you that class, strangely enough, and you didn't speak to him because you didn't need to. Right after class, he stopped you as everyone was grabbing their belongings.

"(Y/N)? Do you mind if I could ask you for help? For this class?" Draco asked quietly.

"Malfoy asking for help? Your pride must be hurt," you quipped, giving him a small grin.

"Oh, it is. But I mean it," he muttered, tapping the strap of his bag.

You motioned him out of the classroom as you made your way to your own classes. You walked slowly with him, standing a bit to the side of the hallway.

"Start with your own companion. Bonding with whatever pet you have, magical or not, is the first step for any animal. Maybe give it something it'll enjoy, like some food. Meet me outside the Hufflepuff common room this weekend, and tell me how you've done."

You waved him off as you turn to go to your own class, knowing he went the other way after weeks of sharing the same class. You then caught up to Elliot to tell him what happened.

"I can't believe he asked me! And I didn't even act nervous!"

"Aren't you one of the top in the class?"

"Because everyone else dislikes animals of any sort, but that doesn't count!"

Elliot sighed and pat your shoulder, then his eyebrows furrowed. He pulled a piece of paper that wasn't in the main, larger pocket and handed it to you.

"This doesn't look like your handwriting."

You looked at it and read it quietly to yourself. It was addressed from the "secret admirer" and had more reasons as to why they liked you, which included your appearance as well as your personality and humour.

"There's something else in there," Elliot said, and pulled out a small container of Glacial Snowflakes.

"I love those!" you exclaimed, grabbing it and inspecting the packaging. "We should check if whoever gave this did something to it."

"That was my thought exactly," Elliot laughed, taking it from you carefully. "I'll let you know by the end of the day."

"Elliot, you're such a good friend."

"I'm your best friend. Now let's get to class."

[noona-clock]

The Engineer - Part 5

Genre: Engineer!AU

Pairing: Chanwoo x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,312

Thankfully -- and a bit surprisingly -- you received a text from Chanwoo the day after your date/not-date/hangout/whatever it was, and it really didn’t seem like he had noticed you being awkward at the very end. He simply asked how your day was going and if your air conditioner was still working.

You smiled to yourself, and from there, things between you were normal. He didn’t bring up the word ‘date,’ and you didn’t bring up how weird you’d been. The two of you just had a pleasant and entertaining text conversation!

In fact, the two of you had quite a few pleasant and entertaining text -- and phone -- conversations over the next week. Since he was busy doing mechanical engineering stuff all day, he would respond to you here and there until he got in his car to drive home late in the evening -- and that’s when the real talk began. He would call you as he drove, and you would put him on speakerphone as you lazed on the couch.

What started out as everyday small talk (”How was your day? How was work? Did you eat?”) turned into discussions about random conspiracies and existential speculations. For a guy who said his main hobbies were baseball and video games, he sure had a lot of deep thoughts.

Speaking of baseball -- the two of you hadn’t just spoken over the phone. One weekday when Chanwoo, apparently, hadn’t had to work, he invited you to the park where you’d first met as he was already there playing baseball.

Of course, the thought that maybe he meant this to be another date was brewing in the back of your mind... but once you got there, the atmosphere between you and Chanwoo was so relaxed, your anxieties almost instantly melted away. The talks you’d had together over the past week or so had done wonders for your relationship -- friendship -- I mean -- well, you know what I mean. Your friend relationship!

Spending time at the park was turning out to be a weekly thing, actually. Chanwoo had texted you about half an hour ago, and you were now walking to the park to meet him for the fourth week in a row.

And it had now been long enough that you were certain there was no romantic intent on his part. The two of you had gone to eat lunch and dinner together several times, but he had never tried to hold your hand or kiss you or anything. He never used heart emojis, and even though he did compliment you a lot, it wasn’t anything that made you wonder if maybe he had feelings for you.

He was such a great guy, though! He was super sweet, but he also had a savage streak that made you laugh. He was thoughtful, smart, genuine, and he was never late.

And let’s not forget about those dimples. He still had those, and they still made your heart skip a beat when he smiled or laughed.

As you walked, the park just up ahead, an idea popped into your brain... You weren’t sure if it was a good idea, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. It was... an idea you would simply try out and see what happened.

You picked up the pace, knowing Chanwoo was already there waiting for you -- because he had been every other time, and you were coming to understand just how reliable this guy was.

More reliable than your air conditioning system, at least.

When you spotted him in one of the empty baseball fields, a grin came to your lips. You watched as he gently threw a ball up into the air then quickly got into hitting position with his bat, waiting for the ball to come back down. When the ball reached just the right spot in front of him, he swung his bat and you heard the telltale crack of a successful hit. The ball went sailing over the pitcher’s mound and into the outfield.

He’d done this before, and sometimes you stood out there collecting all of the baseballs -- most of the time, you sat in the front row of the bleachers and talked to him. Today, you went to the front row of the bleachers and sat down so you could talk to him.

“That was a good hit,” you said once you were close enough to him. “...Right?”

You still weren’t that well-versed in his favorite sport, but hitting it all that way had to be good!

“Yeah, I like to think so,” Chanwoo chuckled, looking over his shoulder and shooting you a grin. “How are you?”

You let out a sigh as you plopped onto the metal bleacher and said, “I’m glad for a break.”

Chanwoo’s brow furrowed softly, and a frown tugged at his lips. “Work?”

You simply nodded, letting out a positive hum in response to his question. For some reason, work had been more busy and stressful than usual, so spending your lunch hour at the park was just what you needed.

“How’s work for you?” you asked, clutching the edge of the bleacher as you watched him bend down to grab another baseball. “Have you found any other bugs yet?”

“No, not yet,” he laughed before going through his little ‘throw the ball up, wait for it, then swing’ routine.

“So, I really am just that special,” you stated. “The bugs only like my air conditioning system.”

“Well, yeah, you are pretty special,” Chanwoo murmured, and when you lifted your gaze to look at him, you saw he was still watching the baseball he’d just hit.

Hmm... That had been an interesting remark. And the tone of his voice... the fact he hadn’t been looking at you when he’d said it... and he still wasn’t looking at you now...

Before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Hey, so, I was thinking -- I know someone I think you would really like, and I want to set you up with her.”

This was, indeed, the idea you’d had while walking to the park, and the fact that Chanwoo may (or may not) have just said something a little more than friendly to you made now seem like a good time to bring it up.

Chanwoo had been reaching for another baseball on the ground, but your words made him pause. His forehead wrinkled with confusion, and he turned just his head to look at you.

“You what?”

“My younger cousin,” you continued, raising your eyebrows. “She’s super fun and sweet, and she just broke up with someone a couple of months ago, so she’s single. I think you would really like her.”

As Chanwoo stood up, taking a couple of steps toward you, you slid your phone out of your back pocket and began to navigate to your photos.

“I -- I don’t --” he stammered.

“Here,” you interrupted, turning your phone around to show him a selfie the two of you had taken at the last family holiday. “She’s really, like, bubbly and cute. That kind of girl. And I think she graduated... a year after you?”

Chanwoo glanced at your phone briefly before turning his gaze back to you. “You... want to set me up?”

“Yeah!” you grinned. “I mean, I haven’t mentioned it to her yet, but she loves meeting new people, so I highly doubt she’ll say ‘no.’”

The more you thought about it, the more genius you thought your idea was. If they did end up dating, you would get to see Chanwoo at all your family gatherings!

You just... could never, ever tell your cousin how you felt about his dimples. Or that you might have gone on a maybe date with him once, though you still weren’t really sure.

“Uh... I --” Chanwoo’s cheeks had suddenly gone very pink, and he turned back around to head to home plate. “I’ll think about it. Get back to you.”

“Okay, sure,” you replied before putting your phone back in your pocket.

But then Chanwoo got out his phone, looked at it with a frown, and then said, “Actually, I just got a message from work, so... I gotta go.”

You frowned right along with him. “...Oh. Well... okay, I’ll see you --”

“Bye,” he interjected, resting his bat on his shoulder and grabbing the bag he brought with him. “Could you go get all the balls I hit into the outfield? Thanks!”

He was practically halfway to the parking lot already, so you could do nothing but call out an ‘Okay!’ after him.

Slightly trudging your feet, you headed to the outfield, picking up as many of the baseballs as you could and dropping them in a wire basket by the dugout. You then headed off of the field and toward the walking path, figuring you might as well get some more exercise in since you were here.

But something about this didn’t sit right with you.

Chanwoo wasn’t one to just leave suddenly like that, and as far as you knew, his company never scheduled emergency appointments...

So, what else could you do?

You took out your phone and called Miles.

Thankfully, he answered after one ring with a “Hello, my love.”

“Hey,” you frowned. “Are you busy?”

“Not at the mo’... What’s going on?”

“I... have a guy-related question.”

“Ooh,” Miles trilled. “I hope it’s about that younger guy. You haven’t told me anything about him since that night, and I almost blocked you on Instagram for it.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you chuckled, your lips tugging up into a smirk. “I mean, it kind of is. But we’re just friends. I was just hanging out with him at the park, and I offered to set him up with my cousin --”

“The loud one?”

“She’s not loud! She’s energetic,” you retorted.

“...Uh huh.”

“Anyway. He got kind of... weird after I brought it up, and then he had to leave suddenly for work, so...”

Miles didn’t even let you finish leaving your sentence hanging.

“Uh, he likes you,” he declared with the utmost confidence but also in that tone that clearly says ‘Are you an idiot?’

“Wha --! Miles, he does not,” you argued. “We’ve been hanging out for, like, a month and he hasn’t tried anything! Hasn’t said anything!”

“...Have you tried or said anything?”

For some inexplicable reason, you shifted your eyes all around you, as if Miles was standing in front of you and you were trying to avoid his gaze.

“Have you?” he repeated.

“...No,” you finally answered.

“So, maybe he’s too scared that you don’t like him back, so that’s why he hasn’t tried or said anything. Or maybe he has tried or said things, and you just haven’t noticed.”

“No, I --”

“Either way, he definitely likes you.”

You were still skeptical, even though Miles turned out to be right (especially about relationships) 9.8 times out of 10.

“How could you possibly know that? You’ve never met him --”

“But, girl, if you want to introduce me, I’ll get Tristan to make spaghetti for him.”

“-- And you’ve never, like, been around us together. There’s no way you could know if he likes me or not!”

Miles let out a sigh, and you could so clearly see him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You say you offered to set him up, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And he said he...”

“Would think about it and get back to me.”

“That’s sign number one. Your cousin is basically gorgeous -- not more gorgeous than you, of course --”

You beamed. Miles, even when he was being an annoying know-it-all, really was the best friend you could ever ask for.

“So, if he didn’t say ‘yes’ right away, he’s either playing for my team or he’s interested in someone else. Then what happened?”

“Well,” you sighed. “Then he started to go back to playing baseball, but he took his phone out and said he had to go do some work thing, and then he left.”

“How did he leave?”

Your brow knit together instantly. “What do you mean how did he leave?”

“Was he rushing?”

“...Yeah. I barely even got to say goodbye.”

“Okay, listen very closely, my dearest friend,” Miles began. “You agree with my number one, right? The fact that he didn’t say ‘yes’ immediately to meeting your cousin probably means he’s not interested in some way or another.”

It made sense, and even though you knew Chanwoo was pretty shy, you felt like he trusted you enough by now to know you wouldn’t be pulling some scheme or something.

“Yes, I think I can agree with that,” you nodded.

“So, think about this: if a guy you liked offered to set you up with his cousin, would you want to keep hanging out with him?”

...Oh, great. Sometimes, you really hated it when Miles made such valid points.

“...No,” you answered.

“Then don’t you think it’s a very reasonable conclusion that Chanwoo likes you?”

“...Maybe.”

“I rest my case.”

You simply huffed, not wanting (just yet) to admit he was probably right.

And then Miles asked the question you knew he was going to ask but was really hoping he wouldn’t.

“Do you like him?”

You almost whined because you did not want to answer that. But Miles would definitely bug you about it until you did, so you bit the bullet and said, “I think he’s a great guy, and his dimples make my heart flutter, but I don’t know.”

You could hear Miles open his mouth to say something... but he didn’t.

That wasn’t good. Miles? Not saying what was on his mind?

“What?” you asked -- though, you really more demanded.

“Nothing, I just -- Let me just ask one more question, and then I’ll let you go.”

“...Okay,” you answered warily.

“Do you ever still think about the age difference?”

Oh, shit.

Well.

He had you there.

“Point taken,” you said.

After Miles hung up, you put your phone back in your pocket and allowed yourself some time to think as you finished your walk.

Because you sure had a lot to think about.

Part 6

[maraudersandlily20]

"i'll be your reason to fight." Drarry maybe? Im a simple person

“I don’t understand why the cutest people are always taken,” Jean said, his bottom lip protruding out in a out. It was cute, in an adolescent way, that made Harry laugh. Jean had insisted on walking him through the market, again, as Jean usually did. Harry had told his friend that he was taken, since Jean had seemed to actively try to prove him wrong. 

They were an odd couple to see down the fair streets of Auvers-Sur-Oise. Harry wasn’t too tall, standing proudly at 5′11, whereas Jean stood at a towering 6′4. Where Harry was dark and exotic, as his neighbors often would tell him, Jean looked entirely french. He was tall and gangly, with dark curly hair and fair skin. He looked a lot like Cedric, Harry would notice one day as Jean read to him from a cheesy book of poetry. They looked like polar opposites, but they got along swimmingly. 

Harry had allowed the flirting to continue because he found it harmless. His heart belonged to someone else who was spending 5 months in England with his family. And Jean was kind and attentive and he made Harry feel less lonely, less like an anomaly. So, Jean flirted, Harry would smack him and laugh, and they would spend the days together. 

They were, at the time Jean made this proclamation, standing in front of a flower cart. Harry was eyeing the blossoms skeptically, having read too many books about unknown poison or carnivorous plants. Jean, however, was smelling every single kind of flower, sighing in content after every sniff. Jean often insisted that Harry had to have flowers in his house, to make him feel like it was spring, that it was warm. Harry agreed.

“I’m sorry, Jean. If I wasn’t me, and we weren’t where we are right now WHEN we are, it might have worked.” Harry countered, smiling.

“Wrong place, wrong time?” Jean queried, his eyebrow lifted in amusement. “That’s the argument you’re going with.”

Harry laughed. “Truly, if we had met even just a few years ago, then things might have been different. But you know how it is.”

Jean waved him off. “Yes, yes, I know. The whole enemies to lovers moment you’ve had with your lover. I hope he knows just how lucky he is. If you weren’t so besotted with him, I would have whisked you away to my home and used all of my french powers of seduction on you.” He pulled a flower out and waved it dramatically in front of Harry’s face. The shorter boy swatted at it, trying to act annoyed.

“Your french powers of seduction aren’t all that they’re cracked up to be, you know.”

Jean gasped, his hand against his heart. “I will have you know, Monsieur Potter, that I have never heard such a complaint about them. Your love is clouding your judgement.”

With another roll of his eyes, Harry snatched the flower that Jean had been waving, as well as several others that compliments the color quite well. When he had enough, he paid the kind woman behind the stand and continued on his way, Jean trailing behind him. 

“What are those for?” he queried, looking at the flowers in Harry’s hands. “So many today. Much more than usual.”

“Buy me lunch, Jean, and I’ll show you.” It was a trick that Harry had learned fast as Jean’s friend. He couldn’t stand to miss any chance to eat. So, Jean grabbed onto Harry’s arm and pulled him to a nearby cafe, ordering their midday meals, and watched as Harry began weaving the flowers together.

“I learned this from a dear friend of mine,” Harry explained, pulling a white flower between the yellow and blue ones he had just knotted together. “She had a love of making flowers wearable. She would braid them into her hair, make necklaces and even belts from them. She never stopped wearing flowers.” Memories of Luna floated into his mind, of her explaining that muggles’ love for flowers was not misplaced, as so many insisted. They simply saw beauty differently. Ginny had sent him a few photos of the two of them, Luna sporting a flower crown in every single one. “After spending any amount of time with her, you can’t help but pick a few things up.”

Jean had laughed and watched over his coffee cup as Harry wove the flowers. He would never admit it to Harry who had become such a dear friend to him, but he felt such a longing toward him that he didn’t even mind remaining his friend as long as Harry stayed around. Jean, of course, wanted more. But he bit back his remarks of admiration and tried to keep it friendly.

As Harry weaved the last of the flowers together and they had eaten the last bit of food on their plates, they both stood to say their goodbyes. “I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to England,” Harry murmured, feeling full. “Food there doesn’t even begin to compare.”

“Then you shall have to stay here forever,” Jean declared, placing Harry’s flower crown atop his head and kissed both of his cheeks. “Until tomorrow, Minou!” And then Jean was gone.

Harry rolled his eyes once again, a habit when Jean was around. But he felt affection swell up in him. Jean was a large reason why Harry had felt so content here, felt like he could belong in this small town. He wished he could give him what he wanted, but a pair of silver eyes flashed into his mind and knew he never could. 

With a sigh, he tucked the flower crown further into his hair and headed toward his home. The spring sun was filtering down among the trees and the road was entirely clear. There were people sitting out in front of their homes, drinking and chatting and soaking up the sun. He waved to a few he recognized and they called out in greeting.

If you had asked him if he was planning to remain in France, at first he would have said no. It was just a temporary blip in his life to recover and regain his strength after the war. But after staying there for so long, as he was coming up on a year of living there, he was tempted to change his mind. There was a feeling of peace that filled him here that he had never had anywhere else. 

He turned the corner and pulled out his keys to open up the door, but stopped when a pair of black shoes came into his view. His eyes followed the shoes, and they were attached to a pair of legs, attached to a torso, attached to a pair of crossed arms, and finally a head covered in almost white hair. It was...

“Draco?”

Harry felt his heart swell at the presence of his boyfriend and made a movement to go to him, but something in Draco’s face stopped him. 

Draco wasn’t looking at him, his eyes trained to something to the right of Harry, but Harry knew there wasn’t anything of notice there. “I see,” Draco started, his voice strained, “I see that I might have been gone too long.”

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“If you had wanted to see other people, Potter, you should have just said.”

Harry blinked. “Other people? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be daft. The way you two were carrying on, it was obvious there was something between you. I just wish you had sent a letter or something, and saved me the trip.” Draco began to push past him, but Harry was slowly piecing together the puzzle of Draco’s assumptions. He reacted so fast that he barely thought about it. With a swift movement, He had Draco pressed up against the front door. He reached his hand that was holding his keys into the lock and unlocked the door. When that was complete, he wrenched the door open and shoved Draco inside.

Draco was protesting, trying to struggle, but Harry ignored him. He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped the keys onto the floor unceremoniously. He continued to push against his boyfriend until his back was against the wall. Without another word, Harry had his mouth on his, kissing him with a fervency that he didn’t know he had. Draco tried to resist, tried to hit Harry away from him, but he was unsuccessful in his attempts. And then, his arms were wrapped around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. And Harry had his hands framing his face, his kisses becoming deeper and insistent. They remained that way, biting at each other, exploring each other, keeping each other in place. 

When Harry felt his breath coming in short gasps, he pulled back and rested his head against Draco’s. Between pants, he said, “You’re daft, Malfoy. But I’m so happy to see you, I hardly care.” And then he kissed him again, swift and chaste before opening his eyes to look at Draco. His pale skin was flushed and his lips were red, his eyes lidded. 

“His name is Jean,” Harry whispered. “He lives in town, working in the bookshop. He’s kind and good and my friend, but it’s not like that. I’ve made that entirely clear to him. I don’t know what you thought you saw, but I promise it wasn’t right.”

Draco groaned and pressed his lips against Harry’s, as if trying to console himself. “I’ve been having to explain my every move for months, always looking for double meanings and snide undertones. It’s been exhausting,” Draco murmured, pain in his voice. “Everything has felt like this huge battle and every day was just another fight. And when I saw you with... with him, and he put this on your head,” his long fingers flicked at the flower crown that Harry had forgotten about almost entirely, “Well, I assumed that the only thing I had been fighting for all these months had given up on me too.”

Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him close. “Nope. I don’t know if you’ve been made aware, Malfoy, but I’m rather stubborn. I don’t have a tendency to give up on anything.”

There was an emotion in the grey eyes, staring at the green ones, that looked very much like sadness and Harry worried about the treatment that Draco had received the past few months of their separation. He reached up and ran his thumb across Draco’s high cheekbone. “If you’re fighting battles and facing demons, than I’ll happily be your reason to fight,” Harry said the words almost reverently, like a vow. “As long as you keep coming back to me, I’ll still be here.”

Draco sighed. “You are stubborn,” he muttered, but he felt gratitude seep into ever inch of him. 

“I am,” Harry agreed.

“Sorry for assuming.”

“Sorry you’ve had such a shitty time of it.”

“I’m glad you’re still here,” this came out as a whisper.

“I’m glad you came back,” Harry replied, just as softly. And then, as if he couldn’t help himself anymore, he pushed himself up and met Draco’s lips, his fingers moving to find and undo the buttons of his shirt. He kicked off his shoes, and Draco copied him, and Harry started moving them back, without separating their lips, toward his bedroom.

But the flower crown stayed on. 

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Kaccako roomate au! Strangers to lovers "fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit"

This was an absolute blast to write! Hopefully this is just as much of a blast to read for you~! Also, I included mentions of KiriMina in this because I could and they cute. x3

As far as roommates went, Uraraka Ochako hadn't really had the best of luck. There were always some kind of problem that couldn't be overlooked - such as being late on their portion of the rent, or refusing to clear their dishes from the sink, or walking through the flat completely naked - but then she found Ashido Mina. Mina had been, by far, the best roommate she ever had. The girl was a little flighty and easily excitable, but she always cleaned up after herself when she was using the kitchen or living room, and always gave Ochako her half of the rent. In the year that they lived together, she and Mina had actually come to be friends and often spent time together in the living room, watching movies and swapping notes and trying to help each other with their studies.

But then Mina, towards the end of their lease, announced she’d be moving in with her highschool boyfriend, Kirishima Eijiro.

A part of Uraraka had been terrified at having to start the hunt for a new roommate again. She had lamented before to Mina about the issues she had encountered in her time. And so, to try to help out, Kirishima made a suggestion that would hopefully ease Uraraka’s anxieties. “The bro I’ve been living with is gonna need a new place to stay! He’s kinda brash but he’s mindful of boundaries and good about paying on time!”

She was a little bit skeptical when she met the blonde haired man known as Bakugo Katsuki. He was quick to fling insults and snide remarks at Kirishima while the four of them sat in a restaurant to discuss everything. He swore a lot, too, and he refused to call her by her name. Instead, he kept calling her “Cheeks”. He was hypercritical of the food they received to an extent that seemed to border into being completely asinine. He did, however, offer her a check for the first months rent at the end of the meal, to assure she was paid in time while he and Mina swapped places.

So, despite her skepticism, an agreement was reached.

They fell into a routine of being strangers in the night once he was settled in. With Ochako’s work as a rookie EMT, her schedule was constantly changing. Sometimes she’d be home at a reasonable hour while other nights she wouldn’t come waltzing in until almost 2am. So long as she was quiet when preparing her food and migrating back to her room, though, Bakugo never complained. They respected each other’s belongings and tended to their own respective clean-up duties. She had noticed, however, that Bakugo seemed to have a ludicrous amount of cooking utensils. She swore one of those devices he kept in there was a grinding bowl from preparing wheat for baking, with the little grinding tool and everything! She was a little curious as to why he seemed to have such a wide array of utensils, but between her hours and the online classes she was taking, she didn’t really have time to go pestering him about this or that.

Until one night when she came home, a quarter past eight, to find the blonde stomping around the kitchen and swearing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck this shit!”

She stared as she carefully hung her keys up on the little rack by the door. "Um, Bakugo-Kun?" she trailed cautiously.

He whipped around to face her, eyes glinting like garnets as a huge grin split his face. "Perfect fucking timing, Cheeks," he said, voice teetering on the edge of delight.

It was… a little unnerving.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, carefully shouldering her purse off and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. It was mostly just a decoration piece since Mina moved out, since she and Bakugo didn't really hang out like that.

"I need you to try this for me," he said as he disappeared back into the kitchen and reappearing with a spoon covered in a pale purple-pink substance a second later. She stared from the spoon to him, head slowly tilting, and he scowled at whatever expression she offered. "It's just some fucking ice cream. I know you eat ice cream."

“Why can’t you eat it yourself?” she asked skeptically.

“Because I’m fucking lactose intolerant and I’m out of the pills I usually take for that shit!” he barked angrily. She winced at his tone and, seeming to pick up that she was put-off, he took a deep breath to rein himself in some. “Look… I just really need you to try this and tell me what you think, okay? It’s really fucking important.”

Sensing the authenticity of his words, though baffled how her sampling ice cream was important to him, Ochako took the spoon from him and plopped it in her mouth. She hummed thoughtfully as a chilly, tartness filled her mouth. Then she felt something harder and rectangular touch her tongue. A quick crunch and swipe delighted her with the taste of white chocolate. Her eyes lit up and she stared at the widening, smug smirk on his lips. “Is this…?”

“Black raspberry ice cream with white chocolate chunks. I take it that it’s good?” he prompted evenly.

She nodded eagerly. “Oh, my gosh, yes! Where did you get this from?”

“Tch. You think I’d buy something I could just as easily fucking make?” he snorted as he headed back into the kitchen. She followed after him to find him popping open the top to one of the many strange cooking devices he’d brought with him when he moved in. He grabbed a small bowl - one of hers, she noticed - from the cabinet and plopped a nice scoop of the mixture into it. He then offered it to her. “So the flavors pair well together?”

“Thank you!” she squeaked happily, eager to take the bowl and grab herself a spoon. He moved back over to the cabinet where the ice cream machine was rested to start scribbling away in a notebook resting beside it. She took another spoonful of the ice cream into her mouth and stood up on her tip-toes trying to get a look at what he was writing. “What are you doing?”

He glared up at her and opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it as he closed his mouth and returned to his notes. “Making recipe notes. The consistency of it is good, right? Not too firm but not completely runny, yeah?”

She hummed and nodded as she took another bite. “It’s literally perfect,” she sighed happily. He snorted a bit before she looked at him again. “So do you just really enjoy cooking or..?”

“I’m a culinary major,” he scoffed. He finished jotting down the notes he needed before pulling out some Tupperware and starting to put the remaining ice cream away. “And there’s a big display coming up in a few weeks. This fucking hot shot chef is gonna be attending as a guest judge, so I need to make sure that my menu blows him out of the fucking water. So I’m trying to find combinations that are weird as Hell but taste amazing as fuck.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You know, now that i think about it, normally I see black raspberry ice cream paired with dark chocolate instead of white chocolate. Which is weird because this was a really great mash up. Like, the flavor from the berry was kinda boosted but somehow subdued simultaneously by the white chocolate? Not sure if that makes any sense,” she pointed out.

Bakugo blinked at her, his expression almost impressed. “Tart flavors are normally better complimented with a sweeter flavor, but most of the people that want tart ice cream want more tartness with it,” he commented. Once he did a final check of the ice cream machine to make sure he’d got it all, he closed up the tupperware and put it in the freezer. “You’ve got a pretty impressive palate, for someone who knows ass all about professional cooking.”

“Thanks, I guess?” she laughed  while stepping away from the sink as he moved towards it.

He dragged the ice cream machine over and started working on cleaning it out. “It’s a compliment so just take it,” he groused, squeezing a few drops of soup into the basin of the machine and starting to scrub. His eyes were focused on what he was doing but he continued to talk over the water. “Look, I’m just gonna be real with you. Those pills I take are expensive. Like, graveyard robbery levels of shitty. So, if you’ll be my taste test so that I can save them, I’d be grateful.”

“All I’d have to do is try presumably tasty food and tell you what I think?” she asked as she licked the last bit of ice cream from the spoon.

He held a hand out expectantly to take the bowl and spoon from her and cast her a glare. “Watch your damn mouth there. Everything I cook is fucking amazing!”

She flashed him a challenging grin as she passed him the bowl. “I think I’ll be the judge of that,”

“... Oh, it’s fucking on, Cheeks!”

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday Reissue: Blanche and the Younger Man

Note: This is a repost of an older Stay Golden Sunday that had to be redone for housekeeping reasons.

Rose’s mother comes to visit, turning Rose into an overprotective mess. Blanche attracts the attention of a young man and strives to keep it.

Picture It…

Sophia and Dorothy prepare for Rose to arrive with her mother, with Dorothy asking Sophia to show her around Miami. Rose has apparently prepared for her mother’s arrival by getting her an airport wheelchair and an oxygen tank. Meanwhile, Blanche arrives home with her aerobics instructor, a young Harry Hamlin-circa-Clash of the Titans-lookalike named Dirk. He asks if they can go out to dinner, and Blanche is flattered.

Rose arrives home with her mother, Alma, and is so overwhelmingly fussy that even the other Girls are put off. They try to make conversation with Alma and show her around the house, but Rose instead drags her protesting mother off for a nap. Blanche tells Dorothy she’s going to go out with Dirk, in spite of him being so much younger than her usual dates.

Blanche is doing some curiously Lamaze-like exercises, and tells a skeptical Dorothy she’s trying to keep Dirk interested. Rose arrives home to spend time with Alma. Dorothy says she’s out with Sophia at the track. Rose panics, thinking Alma won’t be able to handle going out into the city. However, when the two mothers arrive home, Alma’s won $400 (Sophia lost $50). Alma wants to have fun with her winnings, but Rose tries to insist she stay home. Alma tells Rose to stop smothering her and angrily storms off.

Much later, Rose is waiting at home for Sophia and Alma to return, despite Dorothy’s attempts to reassure her. Sophia comes back alone, saying Alma is still out playing jai alai. Rose receives a call from the police, who picked up her mother for being “lost and disoriented,” and goes to retrieve her. Blanche emerges for her date with Dirk in a sundress, claiming to have “dropped ten years.” Dirk picks her up, telling her she looks gorgeous.

DOROTHY: Blanche, you haven’t even been out with him yet. BLANCHE: Oh but my instincts are infallible in this. Believe me, I know men. DOROTHY: No arguments here.

Rose arrives home with Alma, who angrily protests Rose scolding her when all she did was ask a policeman for directions. Rose patronizingly tells her to go to sleep, but Alma says she’s leaving early to visit Rose’s brother in Houston. Rose doesn’t understand what she’s doing wrong, as she thinks she’s just taking care of her mother, but Dorothy helps her see that she’s treating her mother like a child.

Sophia’s helping Alma pack and unsuccessfully attempting to win money from her. Rose enters and asks Alma if she’s really being so terrible, which Alma confirms. Rose apologizes, and says she’s overprotective because she’s afraid of losing her mother like she’s lost her father and husband. Alma gently tells Rose she’s going to die anyway, and she and Rose should enjoy the time they have. They hug and make up. Meanwhile, Sophia thanks Dorothy for not doing the same to her.

Blanche is on her date with Dirk, who is a bit of a dullard. Blanche is struggling to find common ground with him, as he seems to be only interested in muscle-building or fad dieting. He compliments her profusely, which she’s at first flattered by. But then he says the words no woman ever wants to hear: “You remind me of my mother.” Dirk says he hasn’t seen his mother in several years and being with Blanche makes him feel like he’s home with her. Blanche orders a drink to cope with that bombshell.

Later, at home, Sophia and Alma are gambling, and Dorothy and Rose gossip about Blanche’s date – both are concerned, but Dorothy’s more worried that Blanche is setting her expectations too high. Alma surprises Rose with an anecdote about a relationship with a younger man she hired as a farmhand. Rose is aghast, but attempts to restrain judgement to avoid falling back into her old, overprotective ways. Alma goes to bed, with Sophia following so they can continue playing cards.

DOROTHY: I did it once. ROSE: You? You dated a younger man? DOROTHY: Yes Rose, of course it was before I had the hump on my back.

Blanche returns home, humiliated. She tells Rose and Dorothy what Dirk said, and says she feels her age. Dorothy tries to comfort her, but Blanche is too busy feeling sorry for herself. Dorothy refuses to listen and drags Rose out, reminding Blanche that, though she’s not young, she still has a lot going for her. After she leaves, Blanche agrees.

“Blanche thinks she’s Peter Pan, and Rose is turning into Mommie Dearest.”

The infantilization of age and the desire for eternal youth run alongside each other in this episode – and wow, I haven’t sounded that pretentious since I wrote college essays. I’m sure the writers thought they were very clever, mixing these two storylines, but they don’t exactly hang together well.

Maybe it’s just me, but the attempts at humor in the Alma plot just aren’t enough to counterbalance how depressing the story is. Watching Rose behave so condescendingly to her mother feels almost borderline out-of-character, and it’s painful to watch considering the show has been fairly respectful of age up to this point. I’m not saying it’s not realistic; it’s just a bit of a downer.

DOROTHY: Oh come on, Ma. You haven’t even met Rose’s mother. SOPHIA: I know a lot of old people. They’re all the same. They’re cranky, they’re demanding, they repeat themselves, they’re cranky, they’re demanding…

If you feel bad for Jeannette Nolan’s character, Alma Lindstrom, you’ll feel even worse for Nolan herself. According to Golden Girls Forever, poor Nolan didn’t have the easiest time remembering her lines, and director Jim Drake tried to accommodate her by shooting her scenes in short bursts. However, the producers insisted on filming her monologue about her farmhand paramour in one take with reaction shots.

The monologue is not only quite long, but the producers kept adding jokes to it in an attempt to keep it fresh. The filming of this was apparently so awkward and difficult that even the other actresses were begging the producers to not make Nolan do it, but they insisted. Nolan finally managed it after several takes and the audience applauded her for it.

Golden Girls Forever is actually a treasure trove of sad trivia when it comes to this episode. Betty White’s real mother was critically ill at the time, and Bea Arthur’s mother died two days before filming. Arthur can barely hold it together during the scene when Sophia tells Dorothy she’s a good daughter. Also, Rose’s line about how there’s not a day goes by when she doesn’t think about her late husband Charlie is actually paraphrasing a quote from White herself, where she mentioned her late husband Allen Ludden in an interview.

So yeah, if this is a hard episode to watch, it was an even harder episode to film. Maybe that’s why the energy just seems so off this time around.

Another tidbit from the book is that Blanche’s date with Dirk was originally the A-plot, but the storyline with Rose and her mother clearly took precedence after rehearsals began. So if you’re wondering why the episode title isn’t really reflective of the plot, that’s why.

ROSE: Blanche looks terrible. DOROTHY: She looks terrible because all she eats is bee pollen. ROSE: I know! Isn’t it ironic that the bees look so good?

I do think they cheat a little bit when it comes to the Dirk story. The joke is that he’s been interested in Blanche as a mother substitute this whole time, but nothing about the way he acted around Blanche implied that he saw her that way. A clever episode would have you looking back on their interactions and realizing just how Blanche misread the signals, but that doesn’t really work here. He flirts, he compliments her, he doesn’t correct her when she calls their dinner a date – frankly, if I just wanted to hang out with an older man because he reminded me of my dad, I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion on that point.

The jokes Dorothy and Sophia make at Blanche’s expense when she tries to recapture her youth for Dirk’s sake are what save this episode from a lower rating – Dorothy’s at her best when she’s roasting the hell out of the other characters. As for Sophia, well…

BLANCHE: A husband like Dirk could keep me young another twenty years. SOPHIA: Or kill you.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode:

BLANCHE: This is strictly off-the-record but… Dirk’s nearly five years younger than I am. DOROTHY: In what, Blanche? Dog years? BLANCHE: However, I have decided to overlook that minor detail and succumb to the Vesuvius of passion that is about to erupt from me. SOPHIA: Stand back. We’re gonna get something on us.

[tsukuna]

Side by Side

Summary: You wandered into Red Grave City to warn the “Legendary Devil Hunter” of a certain… negative shift in the area’s energy. It was an energy you knew to be demonic, and it grew stronger by the day. But on your way to meet with the intermediary, a noisy bird caught your attention. A noisy bird that would bring you to a frail man on the brink of falling apart.

Rated M • Female Reader • Before the Events of DMC V• Under the Cut • Part 2

The news began to speak of the Qliphoth, or the “tree shaped object,” that emerged in Redgrave City. No one, from the average citizen to local police, had a clue that a powerful demon lurked inside. Despite repetitive warnings to take shelter, crowds loved to gather around the base and just stare. Ignorant fools, all of them. 

You observed the horde from a helicopter heading into the den. There was you, V, and Dante of course, but an additional two women accompanied. One had short, ebony hair and an eye of green, an eye of red--not to mention an enormous arsenal. The other was a near carbon copy of the woman you saw on Dante’s desk, and she smelled like a demon. Frankly, it was all perplexing, but you assumed questions would receive no answers. They are beautiful though. You admired their deadly radiance.

While the three demon hunters chatted amongst themselves, you looked to V. His demeanor was entirely muted, and his face showed little expression. There was a decent understanding between you too at this point though, and you could tell there was anxiety building in him. You would have given him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder; however, you had a feeling the gesture wouldn’t be too well accepted.

“So,” the black haired one drawled. “Who are you?” She eyed you rather intensely.

You introduced yourself. “What about you two?” You looked back just as intense. The names Lady and Trish rang out. “Your names are pretty,” you smiled softly.

“Pretty?” Trish was surprised by the comment.

“Mm,” you affirmed. “I wouldn’t have guessed them. But they match perfectly.”

“Ahhh, so you think we’re pretty, huh?” The girl named Lady tried to tease.

“Extremely,” you said with confidence, not allowing yourself to show embarrassment.

Both of them seem more than satisfied with your answer. “How come you never pay us compliments, huh, Dante?” Lady complained.

“I don’t want to inflate the egos of two crazy ladies anymore than they already are,” Dante replied with a shrug. That seemed to spark an impassioned, yet silly argument. It was an interesting display of friendship for you. I never knew it could seem so… fun.

The light air wasn’t meant to last though. Once the helicopter landed, it was business. “Hey, Dante,” Lady spoke up. “I haven’t even heard the target’s name yet.”

“Uuh… hey poem kid,” Dante seemed peeved.

But in juxtaposition, Griffon began to laugh, “Hee hee hee, that’s our wise guy Dante! What a memory! V, he deserves some praise.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the bird. So extra.

“... some said, it is Urizen.” It was a name you proposed after you met up with Dante before the trip.

“How about Urizen?” Those deep green eyes looked at you with a curious expression. “I read the story in your little book,” you explained.

“Ah yeah, right.” Dante seemed less than enthused. “Urizen, Urizen. You people keep it in mind for me.”

“Not a problem,” you whistled a tune while exiting to wait outside Devil May Cry once again.

“I’m surprised you remembered the name,” V admitted.

“How come? I spent quite some time reading the book while waiting for you.” There was a small pause before you giggled. “I was even pleasantly surprised by how soft your hair was. I thought about doing a little braid.”

“I’m glad it didn’t come to that,” V placed his palm on his face, but it didn’t fully hide the amused smirk on his lips. In spite of what was about to go down that night, you were glad you could provide some bit of comedic relief.

The skepticism on Trish’s face at the name made you a tad nervous, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t bring it up.

“Looks like the party venue is still open,” Dante announced as you made your way into the Qliphoth.

“Shit, gross.” Your nose crinkled upon moving forward. But why does it seem similar to V’s faint demonic scent?

Lady affirmed, “Oh, it stinks in here.”

“I know. Smells like hot garbage.” Dante fanned himself with an irritated expression. But was it truly irritation, or something else? You couldn’t help but remember his reaction to the true name of the demon. Vergil.

V suddenly crumbled forward, and you caught him just in time before his whole body hit the (disgusting) bottom. His face looked similar to when he was on death’s door. “V?” There was no hiding your concern.

“This is far worse than I thought,” he whispered underneath his breath.

There was no time for questioning before Dante called out. “There’s no crime in turning tail. These things might be a little too much for ya.” He continued to walk while looking at him, hands cooly in his pockets.

“... you’re right.” V gritted his teeth. “I’ll leave the rest to you.” He turned on his heel, leaving both you and Griffon to stare in disbelief. Immediately, the demon flew over to question him in a panic.

Dante’s eyes turned to you. “What about you?”

You did consider your two options. You knew you could fight, and you could tell they needed all possible help. But could V make it without you? It seemed as though his health took a turn for the worst in the blink of an eye. “I’ll go with him, just in case.” Dante nodded before waving goodbye unceremoniously.

It was only a short jog before you caught back up with V. “One must always have an insurance policy,” he told Griffon. Strange. V acknowledged your presence with a nod. It let you know you weren’t unwelcome or a hindrance to whatever he was planning. Had he not given you the clear, however subtle it was, well… you supposed you would’ve turned back to rejoin the other there.

“What do you mean, insurance policy? Wait… Do you mean that brat?!” Griffon quite literally screeched. “Hey, hey… he got his right arm lopped right off,” he tried to reason with V. “He won’t be of any use in battle!” V mumbled some sort of reassurance to him, citing the blood of Sparda. It offered Griffon no comfort. “I said not to fall behind Dante, right? And then you just leave! If they kill him while we are out fetching some greenhorn, we’ll...” the little demon trailed off.

V glanced back. “That… won’t happen. I think.” It appeared this situation was worse than imagined.

“Perhaps I should’ve gone,” you thought aloud.

“I believe you would’ve died,” he paused. “And that would be rather unfortunate.” While V often omitted aspects of the truth, he didn’t seem to lie about what he did choose to reveal.

You, Griffon, and V made your way back to Morrison and the helicopter. His expression was confused. “Well, that was quick. Where’s Dante?”

“Inside. Send the helicopter now.” It wasn’t a question.

“Right now? And send where?” Clearly, the intermediary was puzzled.

“Fortuna,” V stated.

Fortuna--it was a place you heard about in passing. Rumors of mass destruction caused by demons and the existence of cults in the obscure city floated about. Is this where that “brat” resides? The entirety of the Qliphoth was once more in view. It was a disappointment, leaving before you had done a thing about the demon within.

Clearly, V noticed your irritation. “It will be solved in time. It must.” Though he said that to you, it also seemed like he was reassuring yourself.

“I simply wish it will be sooner rather than later.”

You fell back into a lull of science. Until the pilot broke it with annoyed chatter about these “boonies” having no heliport and how he’d have to look for a little landing spot.

“There is no time. We’ll meet below. I’m going ahead,” V prepared to jump from the helicopter, causing the pilot to panic even further. He turned to you and offered his hand. You hesitantly took it. You had a suspicion Griffon would be the way down, but you were skeptical on how well he’d do with carrying the weight of two people.

You clenched your jaw when the air initially hit your face. “God, fuck.” V seemed to laugh under his breath at you before pulling you a bit closer to make Griffon’s job easier.

“While I don’t mind helping out because, y’know, my life counts on it… try not work me too hard,” Griffon bitched. His complaints were met with no words of remorse.

Before your feet hit the ground, V began to discuss his plan. “I’m going through the window.”

“Alright, I’ll wait outside.” The distance to the bottom wasn’t far, so you let go, landing on your feet softly enough. At least I’m stealthy.

Over 15 minutes passed before your ebony-haired companion made his way back down. You looked around for whatever it was he came for. “He’ll be here shortly.” So it IS the brat.

The rattling of metal had you turning around, your eyes catching sight of a boy with blue eyes and silver hair--very similar to Dante. He looked to V, who he already met, then you with skepticism. Regardless, he moved forward to join you. “You’re telling me that’s our ride? Talk about posh.” When you looked at the city streets you assumed that yes, it was posh in comparison to what other residents typically saw. “...Don’t get it too close, the others will wake up.”

V was irked by the comment. “Do I look like I can contact it right now? Try jumping and telling the pilot in person.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other boy rolled his eyes. The conversational-less void quickly turned awkward, unlike the time you typically spent with V. You knew nothing about this boy though, and it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t semi-interested.

While still staring forward, you said your name. The boy turned to you with a questioning look. “Your name?”

He seemed to consider whether or not he even wanted to give it to you at first. “Nero,” he finally said.

Immediately upon landing in the Qliphoth, Nero seemed ready to rush in. But V warned him of the danger that waited. Shortly after, a gurgling sound came out from what you noticed to be Shadow’s “liquid” form. “I’m leaving,” V looked over his shoulder. “I doubt you two would get lost here, but still… I suggest you do not fall behind.” And so he did go ahead, using Shadow as a mode of transportation.

Nero’s face soured a bit, making you release a short laugh. “Not very personable, is he?”

“I can agree to that,” Nero grumbled. It wasn’t long before demons began to spawn, creating little roadblocks in your path. “Get behind me.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need protection, y’know?”

“I don’t see any weapons on you,” he eyed you.

You sighed. “Why must one waste energy and space by carrying physical items?” You gave Nero a peace sign before allowing white-gold light to envelop your hand. With a small shake, the glow around your hand turned to light throwing needles. “You take care of half of them, I’ll deal with the rest from a distance for now.”

The demons crawled closer and he grudgingly understood there was no time to ask more at the moment, but oh man, you knew it’d be constant interrogation once there was time. Whatever. A disgusting creature with both the face of a man and an ant’s body caught sight of you. You lazily threw a needle at it, watching it explode once it was pierced between the eyes. They were clearly bottom of the barrel demons. They were quick work for you, and clearly Nero as well who finished shortly after you.

“So you gonna tell me what the hell that was about?” He placed his shoulder across his back as you two continued walking.

“Don’t think that’d be right,” you drawled, “I haven’t even let V know yet, and I’ve been hanging out with him longer.” Nero huffed. “But I will let you know that light exists to extinguish this darkness.”

“How poetic,” he rolled his eyes, which warranted you to bump you first on his head. “Hey! What the hell?”

“Don’t be a douche, Nero,” you stuck your tongue out. “But y’know what? I won’t give too much away from myself, but I have to say, for a kid with one arm, I’m rather impressed by your sword skills.”

“Tch. You should’ve seen me when I had both,” it was funny how quickly Nero could go from brooding to cocky.

A sideways smirk spread across your face. “Would’ve loved to spar with you and kick your ass.”

You both continued to banter and deal with anything in the way. It was actually fun, and, surprisingly, the pair of you laughed together. It took no time for you to see V in the distance once again.

Nero stepped forward. “Huh? What, did you come back?”

The comment undeniably miffed V. “I told you, had I not? Your presence is needed.” You still didn’t quite understand why he needed Nero. He was strong, yes, but he still only had one arm. And if the reaction V and Griffon had earlier meant anything, this demon was far out of Nero’s league.”

Speaking of the devil (or rather the demon), Griffon piped up. “Hey, hero, you do know your role, right?” Nero quirked a brow at the bird. “What I’m saying is get going. We’ll take care of the grunts.”

“Whatever,” he turned around. But then he called out your name, which had a surprisingly colloquial tone to it. “You coming with?” Dante asked the same thing, and you would give the same answer.

“This seems to be your fight,” you shook your head. “I’ll stay back and help here.”

“Gotcha,” Nero nodded and began to move forward.

Griffon cackled, “Fast friends, huh?”

“He’s a funny kid. But how about we focus on the issue before us, hm?” The demons, which Nero had let you know were called empusas, bubbled up.

“Work, work, work!” Despite the complaint, Griffon charged then released cracks of lightning onto the demons. “Fuck yeah!” Huh, I guess I never saw what he did. The bird then chided V for not helping.

“Don’t rush me,” he voiced as he pierced one of the empusas. “Garbage.”

“He, he, that’s the spirit. We gotta catch up to the kid! Even she is helping out!” Griffon was ranged, you noticed, so you took a more melee stance this time (as opposed to your strategy alongside Nero). Instead of conjuring the needles, you created an elegant scythe of light. While the hacking and slashing was entertaining, being splattered by rancid demon blood was a major downside.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you at least wiped it off your face. V looked at you, startled and speechless. “No time for a Q and A, we’re needed ahead.” You grabbed his (warm) hand and began to run forward. “I can tell they’re right up there!”

The first thing you saw was Nero already bloody and beaten. “Fuck, Nero!” You rushed towards him and continued to scan the scene ahead of you. Dante. Lady. Trish. All of them lying on the ground in defeat. The demon, the monster, who defeated the famed devil hunters sat at the far end, appearing bored on his “throne.”

“He lost?! How did this happen?!” Griffon’s panicked screeches rang in your ears. “Oh no… oh no… This is it. This is the end.”

V softly murmured “Dante…” It was as if that conjured him back from the grave.

“Round two!” He transformed into a devil right before your eyes. Who the hell are all these people I got involved with?

“Heeey, what do we do?! We could lose an arm too V!” Griffon flew around anxiously. “Earth to princess V! Get yourself together!” You joined his chorus of yells, however… the words did not reach his ears. Tears rolled down V’s face and you realized just how dire this situation was for him.

“V!” You and Griffon shouted, but he continued to stare ahead. “V!” This time you took him by the shoulder and began to turn him around. “We need to go!” His eyes finally came back into focus and he nodded.

“Get Nero out of here! This was a bad move,” Dante yelled out.

“I can still fight,” Nero screamed in response but you were already beginning to pick him up and drag him away. “Tch, shit, back off!”

“You’re just deadweight!” By expression alone, you could tell that Dante’s words reverberated through his whole being.

Even as the ground collapsed, Nero shouted, “Quit messin’, back off!”

“We have to leave here!” You and V both tried to shake sense into the boy. “He’s far stronger than we could’ve imagined…!”

“That bastard called me “dead weight”?! Don’t underestimate me!” Nero screamed out Dante’s name.

Your eyes widened with shock as V threw Nero against a wall. “If you’re frustrated then think of ways to get stronger!” You had never heard his voice ring so loudly. “If Dante loses… I need you to defeat Urizen.” Nero’s face was full of scorn, but he seemed to finally give up fighting you and V off.

“Yes Urizen, the demon king…” He’s the demon king? Fuck. “That’s the name of the demon who took your arm,” V explained to Nero. It was news to you that it was Urizen who stole Nero’s arm. First question you had was why? What was so special about his arm that the demon king needed it to ascend? Perhaps I can barter information with him another day. I’m sure we shall meet again.

A crisp snap cut the air, and suddenly the black from V’s hair dissipated, leaving only white behind. An enormous creature crashed down and busted the rocks. Its appearance seemed to be made of rock (though that would be too simple) and it had a single eye. Another of V’s familiars, huh? But unlike Shadow and Griffon, especially, it didn’t seem to have any conscience. “This is Nightmare,” V  whispered to you. Good to know he thought that you may want that information.

The descent was over and once the familiar gurgled away, V’s hair became black once more.

“Where’s Dante? Hey!” Morrison exclaimed, voice full of confusion.

“He’s buying us time.. But it won’t last long,” V answered smoothly, not showing his despair to the other man.

Morrison was stunned. “Dante lost?!”

[bustedbernie]

During 28 years as a state and federal prosecutor, I prosecuted a lot of sexual assault cases. The vast majority came early in my career, when I was a young attorney at a prosecutor’s office outside Detroit.

A year ago, Tara Reade accused former Vice President Joe Biden of touching her shoulder and neck in a way that made her uncomfortable, when she worked for him as a staff assistant in 1993. Then last month, Reade told an interviewer that Biden stuck his hand under her skirt and forcibly penetrated her with his fingers. Biden denies the allegation.

When women make allegations of sexual assault, my default response is to believe them. But as the news media have investigated Reade’s allegations, I’ve become increasingly skeptical. Here are some of the reasons why:

►Delayed reporting … twice. Reade waited 27 years to publicly report her allegation that Biden sexually assaulted her. I understand that victims of sexual assault often do not come forward immediately because recounting the most violent and degrading experience of their lives, to a bunch of strangers, is the proverbial insult to injury. That so many women were willing to wait in my dreary government office, as I ran to the restroom to pull myself together after listening to their stories, is a testament to their fortitude.

Even so, it is reasonable to consider a 27-year reporting delay when assessing the believability of any criminal allegation. More significant perhaps, is Reade’s decision to sit down with a newspaper last year and accuse Biden of touching her in a sexual way that made her uncomfortable — but neglect to mention her claim that he forcibly penetrated her with his fingers.

As a lawyer and victims’ rights advocate, Reade was better equipped than most to appreciate that dramatic changes in sexual assault allegations severely undercut an accuser’s credibility — especially when the change is from an uncomfortable shoulder touch to vaginal penetration.

►Implausible explanation for changing story. When Reade went public with her sexual assault allegation in March, she said she wanted to do it in an interview with The Union newspaper in California last April. She said the reporter’s tone made her feel uncomfortable and "I just really got shut down” and didn't tell the whole story.

It is hard to believe a reporter would discourage this kind of scoop. Regardless, it's also hard to accept that it took Reade 12 months to find another reporter eager to break that bombshell story. This unlikely explanation damages her credibility.

►People who contradict Reade’s claim. After the alleged assault, Reade said she complained about Biden's harassment to Marianne Baker, Biden’s executive assistant, as well as to top aides Dennis Toner and Ted Kaufman. All three Biden staffers recently told The New York Times that she made no complaint to them.

And they did not offer the standard, noncommittal “I don’t remember any such complaint.” The denials were firm. “She did not come to me. If she had, I would have remembered her,” Kaufman said. Toner made a similar statement. And from Baker: “I never once witnessed, or heard of, or received, any reports of inappropriate conduct (by Biden), period." Baker said such a complaint, had Reade made it, "would have left a searing impression on me as a woman professional, and as a manager.”

►Missing formal complaint. Reade told The Times she filed a written complaint against Biden with the Senate personnel office. But The Times could not find any complaint. When The Times asked Reade for a copy of the complaint, she said she did not have it. Yet she maintained and provided a copy of her 1993 Senate employment records.

It is odd that Reade kept a copy of her employment records but did not keep a copy of a complaint documenting criminal conduct by a man whose improprieties changed “the trajectory” of her life. It’s equally odd The Times was unable to find a copy of the alleged Senate complaint.

►Memory lapse. Reade has said that she cannot remember the date, time or exact location of the alleged assault, except that it occurred in a “semiprivate” area in corridors connecting Senate buildings. After I left the Justice Department, I was appointed by the federal court in Los Angeles to represent indigent defendants. The first thing that comes to mind from my defense attorney perspective is that Reade’s amnesia about specifics makes it impossible for Biden to go through records and prove he could not have committed the assault, because he was somewhere else at the time.

For instance, if Reade alleged Biden assaulted her on the afternoon of June 3, 1993, Biden might be able to prove he was on the Senate floor or at the dentist. Her memory lapses could easily be perceived as bulletproofing a false allegation.  

►The lie about losing her job. Reade told The Union that Biden wanted her to serve drinks at an event. After she refused, "she felt pushed out and left Biden's employ," the newspaper said last April. But Reade claimed this month in her Times interview that after she filed a sexual harassment complaint with the Senate personnel office, she faced retaliation and was fired by Biden’s chief of staff.

Leaving a job after refusing to serve drinks at a Biden fundraiser is vastly different than being fired as retaliation for filing a sexual harassment complaint with the Senate. The disparity raises questions about Reade’s credibility and account of events.

►Compliments for Biden. In the 1990s, Biden worked to pass the Violence Against Women Act. In 2017, on multiple occasions, Reade retweeted or “liked” praise for Biden and his work combating sexual assault. In the same year, Reade tweeted other compliments of Biden, including: “My old boss speaks truth. Listen.” It is bizarre that Reade would publicly laud Biden for combating the very thing she would later accuse him of doing to her.

►Rejecting Biden, embracing Sanders. By this January, Reade was all in for presidential candidate Bernie Sanders. Her unwavering support was accompanied by an unbridled attack on Biden. In an article on Medium, Reade referred to Biden as “the blue version of Trump.” Reade also pushed a Sanders/Elizabeth Warren ticket, while complaining that the Democratic National Committee was trying to “shove” Biden “down Democrat voters throats.”

Despite her effusive 2017 praise for Biden’s efforts on behalf of women, after pledging her support to Sanders, Reade turned on Biden and contradicted all she said before. She claimed that her decision to publicly accuse Biden of inappropriately touching her was due to “the hypocrisy that Biden is supposed to be the champion of women’s rights.”

►Love of Russia and Putin. During 2017 when Reade was praising Biden, she was condemning Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s efforts to hijack American democracy in the 2016 election. This changed in November 2018, when Reade trashed the United States as a country of “hypocrisy and imperialism” and “not a democracy at all but a corporate autocracy.”

Reade’s distaste for America closely tracked her new infatuation with Russia and Putin. She referred to Putin as a “genius” with an athletic prowess that “is intoxicating to American women.” Then there’s this gem: “President Putin has an alluring combination of strength with gentleness. His sensuous image projects his love for life, the embodiment of grace while facing adversity.”

In March 2019, Reade essentially dismissed the idea of Russian interference in the 2016 American presidential election as hype. She said she loved Russia and her Russian relatives — and "like most women across the world, I like President Putin … a lot, his shirt on or shirt off.”

Believe all women?Now that Reade has accused Joe Biden of sexual assault, never mind.

Pivoting again this month, Reade said that she “did not support Putin, and that her comments were pulled out of context from a novel she was writing,” according to The Times. The quotations above, however, are from political opinion pieces she published, and she did not offer any other "context" to The Times.

Reade's writings shed light on her political alliance with Sanders, who has a long history of ties to Russia and whose stump speech is focused largely on his position that American inequality is due to a corporate autocracy. But at a very minimum, Reade's wild shifts in political ideology and her sexual infatuation with a brutal dictator of a foreign adversary raise questions about her emotional stability.

►Suspect timing. For 27 years, Reade did not publicly accuse Biden of sexually assaulting her. But then Biden's string of March primary victories threw Sanders off his seemingly unstoppable path to the Democratic nomination. On March 25, as Sanders was pondering his political future, Reade finally went public with her claim. The confluence of Reade’s support of Sanders, distaste for the traditional American democracy epitomized by Biden, and the timing of her allegation should give pause to even the most strident Biden critics.  

►The Larry King call. Last week, new "evidence" surfaced: a recorded call by an anonymous woman to CNN's "Larry King Live" show in 1993. Reade says the caller was her mother, who's now deceased. Assuming Reade is correct, her mother said: "I’m wondering what a staffer would do besides go to the press in Washington? My daughter has just left there after working for a prominent senator, and could not get through with her problems at all, and the only thing she could have done was go to the press, and she chose not to do it out of respect for him."

As a prosecutor, this would not make me happy. Given that the call was anonymous, Reade’s mother should have felt comfortable relaying the worst version of events. When trying to obtain someone’s assistance, people typically do not downplay the seriousness of an incident. They exaggerate it. That Reade’s mother said nothing about her daughter being sexually assaulted would lead many reasonable people to conclude that sexual assault was not the problem that prompted the call to King.

Reade’s mother also said her daughter did not go to the press with her problem “out of respect” for the senator. I’ve never met a woman who stayed silent out of “respect” for the man who sexually assaulted her. And it is inconceivable that a mother would learn of her daughter’s sexual assault and suggest that respect for the assailant is what stands between a life of painful silence and justice.

The "out of respect" explanation sounds more like an office squabble with staff that resulted in leaving the job. Indeed, in last year's interview with The Washington Post, Reade laid the blame on Biden’s staff for “bullying” her. She also said, “I want to emphasize: It’s not him. It’s the people around him.”

►Statements to others. Reade’s brother, Collin Moulton, told The Post recently that he remembers Reade telling him Biden inappropriately touched her neck and shoulders. He said nothing about a sexual assault until a few days later, when he texted The Post that he remembered Reade saying Biden put his hand "under her clothes.”

That Reade’s brother neglected to remember the most important part of her allegation initially could lead people to believe he recounted his Post interview to Reade, was told he left out the most important part, and texted it to The Post to avoid a discussion about why he failed to mention it in the first place.

In interviews with The Times, one friend of Reade’s said Reade told her she was sexually assaulted by Biden. Another friend said Reade told her that Biden touched her inappropriately. Both friends insisted that The Times maintain their anonymity.  

On Monday, Business Insider published an interview with a friend of Reade’s who said that in 1995 or 1996, Reade told her she was assaulted by Biden. Insider called this friend, Lynda LaCasse, the “first person to independently corroborate, in detail and on the record, that Reade had told others about her assault allegations contemporaneously.”

But Reade alleged she was assaulted in 1993. Telling a friend two or three years later is not contemporaneous. Legal references to a contemporaneous recounting typically refer to hours or days — the point being that facts are still fresh in a person's mind and the statement is more likely to be accurate.

The Insider also quoted a colleague of Reade’s in the mid-1990s, Lorraine Sanchez, who said Reade told her she had been sexually harassed by a former boss. Reade did not mention Biden by name and did not provide details of the alleged harassment.

In prior interviews, Reade gave what appeared be an exhaustive list of people she told of the alleged assault. Neither of the women who talked to Business Insider were on that list.

The problem with statements from friends is that the information they recount is only as good as the information given to them. Let’s say Reade left her job because she was angry about being asked to serve drinks or because she was fired for a legitimate reason. If she tried to save face by telling friends that she left because she was sexually assaulted, that’s all her friends would know and all they could repeat.

Prior statements made by a sexual assault victim can carry some weight, but only if the accuser is credible. In Reade’s case, the statements coming from her friends are only of value if people believe Reade can be relied on to tell the truth, regardless of the light in which it paints her.  

►Lack of other sexual assault allegations. Last year, several women claimed that Biden made them uncomfortable with things like a shoulder touch or a hug. (I wrote a column critical of one such allegation by Lucy Flores.) The Times and Post found no allegation of sexual assault against Biden except Reade's.

It is possible that in his 77 years, Biden committed one sexual assault and it was against Reade. But in my experience, men who commit a sexual assault are accused more than once ... like Donald Trump, who has had more than a dozen allegations of sexual assault leveled against him and who was recorded bragging about grabbing women’s genitalia.  

►What remains. There are no third-party eyewitnesses or videos to support Tara Reade’s allegation that she was assaulted by Joe Biden. No one but Reade and Biden know whether an assault occurred. This is typical of sexual assault allegations. Jurors, in this case the voting public, have to consider the facts and circumstances to assess whether Reade’s allegation is credible. To do that, they have to determine whether Reade herself is believable.

I’ve dreaded writing this piece because I do not want it to be used as a guidebook to dismantling legitimate allegations of sexual assault. But not every claim of sexual assault is legitimate. During almost three decades as a prosecutor, I can remember dismissing two cases because I felt the defendant had not committed the charged crime. One of those cases was a rape charge.

The facts of that case made me question the credibility of the woman who claimed she was raped. In the end, she acknowledged that she fabricated the allegation after her boyfriend caught her with a man with whom she was having an affair.

I know that “Believe Women” is the mantra of the new decade. It is a response to a century of ignoring and excusing men’s sexual assaults against women. But men and women alike should not be forced to blindly accept every allegation of sexual assault for fear of being labeled a misogynist or enabler.

We can support the #MeToo movement and not support allegations of sexual assault that do not ring true. If these two positions cannot coexist, the movement is no more than a hit squad. That’s not how I see the #MeToo movement. It’s too important, for too many victims of sexual assault and their allies, to be no more than that.  

[chiimmchiimm]

❝ 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “  

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair).   𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Genre: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.3 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔:  +18   𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:   dirty language, lies, mood swings, spectacular and close bodies, muscles, biceps, problems, very big problems, resolved threats, future friends, jealousy on her part, sad but spicy conversation in the end, rare metaphors ... 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒:  A long time, dear readers, I paused to finish the story completely. I will try to upload the chapters more often. Great things are coming !! Thank you very much for reading and enjoy the chapter !!

Did you have me for what?

  Fucking shit because every time we talked, he left me with the word in his mouth and left, leaving the greatest suspense in history. It seemed like her favorite hobby, confusing me as she tried to make sense of everything she said. But all that was a dead end because every time I reached a conclusion he would come and make me think a thousand different times. I never understood men, much less this one. I did not like the feeling of uncertainty that settled in my chest every time I had the privilege of being the recipient of such ambiguous words.

   My fist hit the leather material with enthusiasm. I did not know at what point I had arrived at the prison gym, I was only aware of my actions when I noticed the cold latex contrast with the heat of my knuckles. Maybe I had found my way to let off steam. When he hit the bag he didn't think, he just moved the muscles unconsciously. I needed that, let go of instinct and stop thinking about deep eyes and strong arms with wonderfully perfect tattoos.

  I liked that inmates ignored me, it had been a long time since I had heard loud compliments and overly embarrassing sexist comments. In a way, they had learned to respect my space and they didn't bother me as much, of course, the presence of Thirteen had been a mitigating factor worthy of note. In these weeks my relationship with Thirteen (if the strange bond that unites us can be called that) had advanced to such a point that I did nothing without him at my side. I suppose that we had a common goal, to protect his sister, but in fact, I liked that he will also ensure my safety. Since the occurrence of the baths he had not detached himself from me, and in a way, his company did not bother me as surprisingly I thought he would. He was not as bad as he thought, his grumpy character had been lowered considerably in these weeks, he was no longer the same serious boy whose only facial gesture was manifested through a slight involuntary blink. Without going any further, he continued to maintain that firm and regal posture but there were times when he thought he saw a small smile appear.

 A smile like now.

"If the sack had a mouth, it would be laughing at your blows." I hear his mockery between the roars of my fists hitting the leather material. His back was turned to him but I could imagine how his corners rose in a mischievous smile that only screamed the desire he had to make me rage. His longtime favorite hobby. Buffet exhausted and then stop hitting the stuff to turn me around. Thirteen received my frown with a small laugh.

"Yeah, but you have to understand that not everyone lives three meters away and has arms bigger than their head." I blurted out, she seemed to look annoyed but both he and I knew that my contemptuous tone was overactive. Cross your arms to calm the hectic movement of my chest. For him it had been nothing more than small blows but he had really left my breath. Long heavy breaths with her mouth ajar as she skeptically watched him. I felt how the beads of sweat gradually accumulated on my forehead and then bathed my neck with pride. Thirteen observed me sitting from an exercise table, with his dark eyebrow raised as he followed the path of a drop that went down the column of my neck towards my tank top. My breathing increased dramatically for reasons other than exercise when her tongue came out in a provocative dance to wet her two parted lips. I squeezed my arms to cover the view of my semi-transparent white sweatshirt. I felt very intimidated on my feet, as her eyes traveled everywhere she had exposed. Even more when her dramatic silence began to bore me and my mind began to produce thoughts about how good the white T-shirt she wore today looked, how well her tattoos stood out in the artificial light of the bar lamps and in the wide and fluffy that turned his thighs when crushed when sitting.

I swallowed hard to catch my breath as Thirteen scrambled to her feet to impose her height on me. I had to tilt my neck up to see the dark glow in his eyes.

"I'm not ten feet tall," I groan with a small pout as I wrinkle my nose and frown. Her gesture made me laugh a little. However, I stopped laughing when his eyes dropped to my wet little cleavage. My breath hitched and the mouth of my throat began to dry. I part my lips in a snap, causing her to soon admire his movement. "However, I have parts of my body that are quite large."

  Snap your fingers in front of your face to catch their attention. Immediately his eyes stopped admiring the beginning of my breasts to settle on me as if nothing.

"My face is up here, Thirteen."

   I pass a slanting self-sufficient smile as I stared at mine. A look too intense to hold for too long. For a fraction of a second I wished I had closed my mouth, because at least the other way I didn't notice how nervous I was when his pupils dominated mine too easily. Turn the sack around and hit it to camouflage the tension that had formed from the awkward silence.

  Center the force of my punches at one point to increase damage to the bag, isolating myself from around me. Suddenly, my back hit the hard surface of his chest. I immediately froze by canceling any future moves I intended to make. I swallowed so that the dryness of my mouth was not so bothersome. My stomach clenched as the weight of his hands began to warmly embrace my hip. I tried to glance askance at his body but his hands held me in place. One of his legs came slowly down the side of my body, when his thigh brushed against mine I swore I heard a gasp escape from his lips that landed directly on the surface of my ear when he leaned enough so that I could feel the wetness of my skin from his lip.

"You are too weak to leave all the weight of the blow in your hands," he whispered in a graver tone than usual. I deduced from the movement of his chest that he looked more disturbed than the normal stability of his voice reflected. He raised his hands leaving a silky path too nice, I closed my eyes unconsciously when he left them on my waist. By then, my breathing was too strong to try to hide it. It was as if after his hot walk my joints would stop working, submitting to the sweet torture of his overly provocative caresses. In a movement that caught me completely off guard, he thrust his knee into the hollow of mine and dug his fingers into my waist to propel me forward so that my fist hit the material. Incredibly the bag moved for the first time since I started my workouts. I opened my eyes forgetting, or rather, trying to ignore how good my whole body felt when feeling the cozy warmth of his big hands.

“But how?” I asked, too surprised by the simple fact that I never thought I would ever be able to move the bag on my own. In a quick blink I managed to glance askance at her face, her sharp detailed jaw in front of my eyes giving me a perfect perspective of her wonderful profile. His well-formed cheekbones and the relief of his large nose. I even managed to discover amid the roughness of his broad neck a small mole that caused a sweetness to the eye. Thirteen realizing my devotion to new discoveries of her skin, I turn my head completely. His wild pupils dominated mine leaving me at his disposal. The moisture on my lips felt a sharp chill as it contrasted with his hot breath.

"You are small, you have almost no muscle and you hardly know how to defend yourself." All you can do is attack strong enough first to give yourself time to run away.

I felt ashamed for her lack of confidence in my physical state, more than hurt, however, deep down I knew she was right and that's why I kept quiet. I was never a physically strong girl before, I did not win a fight in my life and if I did it was not for me, but because someone interrupted. And maybe that was what bothered me so much that even knowing I was right I didn't want him to see me as a helpless animal that had no other way than to flee. I've been running away from an abuser all my life, and I think sometimes people get tired of running away. In my case, quite a long time ago.

"Well then, teach me how to defend myself," I whispered in a conciliatory tone. Thirteen I raise one leaves surprised by my interest, however, a short time later began to form a smile marked by pride. I felt good at the time, able to do anything.

“Do you see the black area of ​​the bag?” He pointed his eyes forward, making him turn his head towards his directions. Take a close look at the black stripe that covered the top of the bag. He bit back an unsatisfied moan as he remembered that it was the hardest area. At first I had tried to soften her but had done nothing other than bruise my knuckles thoroughly. I nodded a little confused for not understanding what was the interest of her looking right there. His finger reached to the start of the sack just on the edge as the material slipped in to form a flattened circumference. Raise your head to facilitate my perspective. It was almost funny to see how his hand reached that height without any problem knowing that I would not even jump. I gave a little frightened gasp when I stick his lip to the cartilage of my ear and whisper softly as if he were telling me a story. "This area corresponds to the beginning of the forehead. and the small fissure that corresponds to the mouth, lower is the jaw and a little lower is the jugular and finally the neck. "I was amazed to be a spectator of so much strategy. It was true, if I could get a better look there were marked parts that corresponded to all the parts that he had named, it was only necessary to pay more attention to the details. His finger attached to the hand of his tattooed joint looked powerful, large, so mesmerizing from the dance of his marked veins. "You just have to look for the area that you think can fuck the most." But if I give you some advice, the first blow send it directly to the neck, you will leave it breathless for a few seconds long enough so that you can punch it and knock it to the ground.

"I will," I swore safely.

"Yes," he whispered, dragging me into a world full of chills. Her lip had settled on my skin like it was her second home. The contrast was so relaxing when enough time passed. Her lip was so soft as well as hot. In an instant I found myself casting a longing gaze at him. I did not know why I simply began to feel an exaggerated desire to see his black eyes again. He reciprocated in seconds. I regretted when I realized the very compromising position I was in. His face was too close to the point that his nose was caressing mine. The long arm I had as a support began to slide down until it was inches from my neck. Everything seemed to disappear around me when Thirteen began to bow her head with a desperate slowness.

“Am I interrupting?” A voice foreign to us interrupted the moment too abruptly. Thirteen stopped leaning quickly to look at the unknown person. Suddenly, I noticed how his jaw clenched and his nose widened. When I could feel the tension in his shoulders I couldn't help but turn around and understand why Thirteen had reacted that way. "I was looking for you, Thirteen."

    I instantly recognized that wicked smile and that piercing look.

"I don't have time for your psycho shit, Hong Kong." Thirteen replied with a tired air in the reflection of his voice. The named broadening the smile further exposing his tongue pircing more than macabre. His yellowish, sharp teeth began to create small retches at the beginning of my stomach. I don't know if it was fear of everything I had heard from him or simply because I didn't like how tense everything was getting, I just knew that I wanted to leave urgently. 

Suddenly, Thirteen's hand caught my wrist too hard to push me on its way. However, we could not take two steps as miraculously two men appeared in front of us just as creepy as the other one standing in our way. I heard a deep sound come from Thirteen's throat as a warning. The taller of the two, a blond with a beard, seemed unaffected, however the smaller one truly doubted his position.

"I said I was looking for you." He spoke again in the same neutral tone. I looked at Thirteen immediately but he didn't stop terrifyingly shooting the bearded blond. His fingers wrapped more and more tightly around my wrist, letting me understand that he was getting quite angry, but also that he was getting nervous.

"Take off," he growled at the blonde. I was quite surprised by the cold and terrifying tone I use. It had been a long time since I had seen that part of him. And I admit, I wasn't liking seeing her again, it was too scary.

"You should thank me that I have had the education to introduce myself here to ask you myself if the rumors I have heard from some prisoners are true."

   Suddenly, the air became much heavier. I watched with some panic as he closed his left hand into a fist. I had never seen him lose control like that, it was as if his rational part had suddenly vanished and another good had appeared instead. There was a moment when his fingers were clenching too hard, he groaned silently but with enough plea for him to hear my complaint. As if it was a sign that she was being carried away by the impulse her hand loosened suddenly causing her to exhale in relief.

"Surprise me," he spelled slowly but very demanding.

"Well, it turns out that one of my trusted men was suspiciously sent to the hospital with a broken jaw. Rumors have it that it was because he messed with the wrong girl."

    My mouth clenched impossibly to hold back a gasp. I had an urge to cover my lips to hide a scream but I held steady for the sake of both of us. You didn't have to be very smart to know what he was talking about. My good imagination played a trick on me, scenes of a guy lying on the floor drinking his own blood while Thirteen kept giving him more blows. I felt guilty because this was all for me. I knew I was that girl Hong Kong was talking about as I also knew that my problems were starting to affect Thirteen and I felt pretty bad.

"Yes, he messed with the wrong girl."

   Hong Kong slowly shook his head to the side. His smile exuded amusement, an ironic glow that had rendered me speechless. Thirteen managed to move a little toward him to keep his gaze. He positioned himself with his back to me and when I was afraid to stay behind with the two Hong Kong men, suddenly, I felt a hand catch mine to calm me down. Ironically, this was the first time he had shaken my hand. I couldn't turn off the disappointment of my heart because I really waited for that moment for a long time without realizing it. Fears left me when the warmth of his hand took mine.

   However, my eyes caught an abundant body moving from the corner of my periphery, I slightly turned my neck and it was when all the nerves returned ripping without mercy. The sweat suddenly turned cold as I froze as I saw something shiny and pointed mockingly peek out of the blonde's sleeve.

    When he took a step forward, I knew in that instant his terrifying intentions. His eyes glued to a fixed point on Thirteen's back as his eyes sparkled with anticipation. I really didn't know what to do, not when I knew what was going to happen if I didn't do something. Thirteen was on his back, he was protecting me, he was ignoring two psychopaths so he didn't have to deal with Hong Kong's bloodshot eyes. My chest rose so high that my heart began hammering inside my ear. Taking a rather exaggerated exhalation of air I placed myself in front of him with open palms.

"Don't do it! Are you really planning to take that out here when you have a camera pointed directly at the nape of your neck and another in front of us?" I whispered quite upset. I controlled my tone with concentration but if I could analyze the nuances of my babble I could Successfully deducing that I was truly terrified. The blonde remained impassive at my little hysteria and just then laughed at me. I felt small under his wicked gaze, I opened my mouth to cover an overly revealing gasp.

It was at that moment that Thirteen turned suddenly to make sure with a quick glance that he was fine. Afterward, I watch the blonde glaring at him with so much fury permeated by every detail of his pupils that I cut his laughter abruptly. Thirteen wrinkled his nose and grunted in his direction as he took two steps causing the blonde to back off at the same time colliding with his partner.

"Don't go near her, motherfucker."

    His roar was too aggressive. Her nostrils flared at the strong breaths. His brow furrowed together with his nose. But really, really it was the dilated vein in his neck that could really stand out from the whole scene.

“The wrong girl, huh?” Hong Kong cooed quietly. Thirteen seemed to lose track of the situation for a couple of seconds. He blinked nervously for a couple of seconds but knew how to compose himself skillfully. I didn't even need to look at him to know that he was controlling himself terribly. Her knuckles couldn't be whiter and I could swear her nails were digging deeper and deeper into her palms. When Hong Kong spoke again the air came back to me again. "Let's go, I already got the answer I wanted."

     True to his word, Hong Kong and the other two left when the Asian signaled for them to follow him. The tension returned to me when the blond collided his shoulder with Thirteen's when it passed by him. Thirteen smirked as he moved his leg to sneakily hit his stomach. The blond whimpered weakly intending to turn but his friend dragged him out of his reach.

    When I thought the scare was completely gone a loud scream made me jump in my place.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

    I opened my eyes with regret as my mouth closed uneasily. Thirteen was furious. Killing me back. Leaving me more nervous than I already was.

"I don't know," I stuttered. I buffeted, closing my eyes before swallowing hard. "What did you want me to do when I saw I had a screwdriver under my sleeve?" I have acted on impulse, sorry.

    But my attempts to get him to listen to me evaporated as fast as water in the summer. Thirteen remained royal. I knew that deep down it was nothing more than a reprimand for intervening in other people's conversations and also, that I really did not want to behave in this way but I assumed it was due to the constant accumulated tension.

"Damn it, Blair." Hong Kong really isn't a person you can screw with. ”I gasp, forcing myself to calm down before completely losing patience. He slid his palm across her face as he whispered a couple of curses.

"He didn't come to speak and both you and I knew perfectly well. Did you want me to stay on the sidelines when his friend wanted to stab you with that thing? ”I insisted with overwhelming urgency. The sharp point returned to my head causing a terrifying chill.

   Thirteen clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes contemptuously.

"I don't need anyone to defend me," he clarify loudly, rejecting the idea of ​​needing help from someone other than himself.

"Oh, believe me I know." I laughed wryly as I recreated inside my head the memory of him boxing.

"You are too impulsive."

"And you're too dependent." Furious, I let out an agitated sigh. Thirteen raised an eyebrow to declare how unimportant my view of him was. “I know you've probably always solved problems just because you've gotten used to not depending on anyone but this is different. You must tell your friends so that ...

"I'm not going to get you into this," he growled, completely opposing what he had said earlier, drawing out a weary sigh.

"Stop wanting to be alone! Because you don't think of all the people who love you, Lucy, Jimin, Taehyung even though I don't show it very often I think Suga does too. Accepting help from others does not make you a weak person, on the contrary, it only shows that you are strong enough to correct mistakes and find the right solutions”

"And you love me?"

    I was blank for a few seconds when I cut myself off with that question. I blinked uneasily at his direction trying to understand if my ears hadn't really played a shovel at me. Inevitably I began to ask myself, an immediate answer came out, one that, despite being totally confusing, was still secret to me. I mean, yes. I mean, yes. Thirteen mattered to me. He was a good friend and besides, he was always there when he needed it. But...

Those were really the reasons?

"649 report in the direction immediately." When the metallic voice of the intercom broke into gym Thirteen and I turn our eyes to the device hanging on the corner of the wall. Taking advantage of his oversight, I ran away. And I must admit that I felt like a complete coward at the time. But he didn't really blame me, I wasn't ready for that conversation.

"Hello." I greeted Brian cheerfully as I approached the principal's door. He smiled warmly sending me feelings of security and tenderness. My heart skipped a beat. It had been a few days since I saw him and I must admit that I missed those striking green eyes.

"Hello, Blair," I reply back when I finally get in front of him. Despite his smile and his good demeanor I couldn't ignore the tension that was building up on his shoulders. He turned on his side and opened the door. "Come in, they're waiting for you."

   Slightly tilt your head, getting lost in the situation.

"Who?"

   Brian intended to reply, but his mouth was immediately closed when a tall, stout, and dressed man took up my entire field of vision. She frowned in confusion. I briefly looked at Brain who nodded at me nervously.

"Miss London, have a seat please." The director's sudden voice distracted me for a few seconds. Not knowing how to deal with this situation, I decided to sit down and wait for things to clear up.

"What is all this?" Despite the fact that it was the director who had been in front of me, the question was thrown into the air so that both the man from before and the other, who had just seen when I entered the room more, they will take the initiative to speak. There was a brief pause that further condensed the oxygen in the office. The man in the suit took enough authority to stand next to the principal. The sockets of my eyes almost shot out when I managed to visualize the gold plaque hooked on his belt. However, it was different from the regulation in my country. I was much more confused, and worse still, much more scared.

Did they come to tell me about my father's dirty business?

Did they come to threaten me so that I will plead guilty at trial?

"My name is Kim Hyulin, I'm an inspector for the Seoul Police Station Homicide Squad. We came here because we have to ask you some questions." His foreign accent took me by surprise. The alterations that navigated his pronunciation were very similar to those of Thirteen and his friends. Suddenly Hyulin put her hands on the table. Watch the gesture suspiciously. There was something in its tonality that told me that it had not been entirely clear and that there were things to say. His expression was harsh, he frowns enthusiastically trying to scare me but his attempt was in vain. The unnatural wrinkles on the length of his skin gave him the image of a mature man in his forties. However, the other man dressed in a much cheaper suit was young and it was obvious that he was a novice.

"What kind of questions?"

"Limit yourself to answer and you have not asked," the rookie roared with an air of superiority. The contemptuous tone that I use accompanied by a look full of pride bothers me. He was looking at me like I was some trash he had to deal with.

“Answer what?” I breathes out nervously at her planned circumlocutions.

    Hyulin blew out a breath as her lips parted with a snap. I don't like his accusing look. Nor his ways of analyzing my gestures as if from them he will get the answer he so longed for. I glance quickly at his apprentice, who quickly straightened up. Then he spoke:

"Tell me Miss London, how much do you know about Jeon Jungkook?"

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