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kamaluhkhan · 11 months ago

Text

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!!

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you.

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock.

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs.

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap.

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side.

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.”

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word.

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo.

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?”

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure.

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts:

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you.

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend.

friend.

if you could still call him that.

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.”

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air.

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling.

“me too, kid.”

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze.

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left.

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him.

“perce! hey!”

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.”

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood.

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack.

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium.

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways.

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed.

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees.

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing.

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure.

but, there were other things, too.

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes.

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving.

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection.

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of.

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.”

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed.

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him.

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then.

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge.

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house.

something in luke softens, then. he sighs.

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on.

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke.

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially.

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too.

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.”

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.”

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up.

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.”

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles.

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this.

about you.

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were.

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?”

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy.

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though.

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you.

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand.

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own.

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos.

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways).

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here.

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you.

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you.

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan angst #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

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Im so sorry I didn’t see this till after request were closed but so idk if you gon see this but, f!reader had her nipples pierced? I’m sorry but I feel like price would be obsessed with readers piercings like if she had a tongue piercing too? Manz would go crazy. Smut? Dw if not <33

✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 6: NIPPLE PIERCINGS

cds!john price x recruit!reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival.

cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple play, p in v sex, cream pie.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 7: INCUBUS ⇾

It wasn’t as though there hadn’t been sufficient warning, but three years of service in the British army was nowhere near enough to prepare your body for the brutal battering that SAS selection subjected it to. Your blisters had blisters, and your body pulsed with a bone-deep ache every time you managed to crawl into bed upon dismissal.

You had been sufficiently warned… About everything except this.

Freezing cold water drips from your nose as you hoist yourself out of the pool at the base of the waterfall. Cold-Water-Shock training was a standard part of SAS selection– the ability to control your own discomfort and maintain a level head whilst also teaching the fundamentals of surviving sub-zero. January weather meant temperature levels were unsurvivable past a handful of seconds, and you could feel why.

The process was simple. Fully submerge yourself into the icy depths before raising to the surface and keeping your chin above water. Next step; breathe. Regain composure and steady your breathing to fight the effects of cold-shock. Recruitment Staff would then ask you a handful of simple questions to assess competency before heaving you out of the water.

You’d passed, you felt, with flying colours. The savagery of the otherworldly Brecon Beacons had failed to shake your resolve, answering the questions with ease. Even now, drenched to the bone and involuntarily trembling, you maintained a strong eye contact with Chief Directional Instructor Price as he eyed you with a stern expression.

It’s momentary— barely there. You’d have missed it had you blinked. Price’s thick eyelashes, made damp by the sleet that had been battering the group all morning, dipped below your face. Sapphire blue irises glint in the low light when they zero in on their target. You hadn’t worn a bra this morning given you’d been forced out of bed at the arse-crack of dawn and expected to be in the van within five minutes… They’d left you little to no choice.

Regardless of this reasonable explanation, you suddenly begin to regret your decision to forgo the cover, Staff Price gazing at the way your grey t-shirt clings to your pebbled nipples and the exposed shape of the piercing balls either side of each mound.

“That’ll be all, 16,” he says, that raspy grit to his voice warming you from the inside-out. That fever encroaches on the apples of your cheeks when you realise he’s yet to pull his eyes away.

“… Yes Staff.”

✦✦✦

“You did that on purpose.”

John’s voice, husky and full, was surprisingly even considering how tight your pussy walls clenched around his thick, veiny cock. You wail quietly at the soft breath that dances across your assaulted skin, nipples so incredibly sensitive. Sucked and nibbled and licked, the tender skin screams when Price drags the flat of his tongue over your pierced nipple with a delighted hum.

“N-No—“ you choke out, the overstimulation of your nipples sending another shockwave of bliss down your spine. You know you’re squeezing him, because John ruts up into your fluttering pussy with a far less composed groan. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to!”

“You’re not foolin’ anyone, Love,” John murmurs, gently taking your pebbled nipple between his teeth and rolling it.

You see stars— swirls of technicolour dancing behind your eyelids with how tightly you squeeze them shut against the cataclysmic pleasure that seeps between your thighs. When John jerks his hips up again, you can hear how wet you are. It’s sloppy, disgustingly soaked, and Price loves it.

“Fuckin’— Hah-“ John moans against the supple flesh of your breast, wrapping his lips around it and sucking on the hypersensitised skin. This time, when you arch your back from the bed with a wail of his name, he begins a slow and leisurely pace with his hips.

Burying your fingers into the short-crop of his hair, you brace against the ticking bomb of your orgasm as it approaches. Each long stroke of John’s hips makes another disgustingly wet sound, your cunt greedily sucking him in and creaming around his throbbing dick as he flicks his tongue back and forth across your abused nipple. His other palm, battle calloused and rough, squeezed the other breast, thumb equally torturing your second nipple.

It comes in waves; cresting, crashing tsunamis rather than soft laps of the ocean on a beach. A prickling heat that singes away the Beacon’s icy cold from your toes and creeps up the inside of your thighs. Your heart slams against John’s lips, your hands pushing into the back of his head to keep him there while you chase what could only be described as liquidation.

“Ohmygod—“ you slur, and it’s as though the edges of your vision blacken. In truth, you’re not sure what you call him as you come apart on his cock, sobbing out a hapless string of garbled noises that don’t sound anything like his name. Toes curling either side of his hips, you fail to brace against the overstimulation that rips violently through you.

“Fucken’ ‘ell—“ he groans deeply, a guttural growl that seems to vibrate the atoms in the air around you. The deliberate, methodical thrusts of his hips suddenly pitch to a sloppy, desperate gallop. John’s hands grasp the bed sheets so tight you almost hear the threads strain against the pull.

He cums, coating the inside of your cunt with a rumble of your name that sounds so foreign to your ears with the afterglow buzzing in your eardrums. John continues to fuck you through it, taking pleasure in the way you squirm and squeal and cry until his cum seeps between your legs, coating the inside of your thighs with his seed.

Sharp, heaving breaths echo in his small quarters, and you’re almost certain that his fellow DS had definitely heard you this time. But when John places his damp forehead to yours, eyes closed as he relishes in the bliss of being so close to you for just a moment longer, you struggle to find it in yourself to worry.

“You should wear a bra,” John mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips— but missing in the haze of post-orgasm-bliss and settling for a peck on the corner of your mouth.

“Why?” You muse, still a little breathless as he works his lips down your chin and over your jaw. The gruff, burly Chief of Directing Staff was so affectionate when the door was closed. You knew that this thing you had going on was more serious than a thing when you stopped being anxious about getting caught and being kicked off the course— instead stressing about John offering his tenderness to another recruit. “If this is how you react to seeing me with a wet shirt and no bra, I’ll dunk myself in that water every damn day.”

In a moment of sobriety, John pulls back to look you in the eye. His aquamarine irises hold a heavy seriousness that makes your breath stall for a moment, afraid you’d said something out of line.

“Love, I completed that whole trainin’ session with a rock hard cock.”

A beat.

Just before peals of laughter burst from you. John rolls his eyes, turning onto his back on the mattress. Still, he’s unable to bite back the smile that pulls on his lips.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

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drunkenkissesatdusk · 11 months ago

Text

MORNIN’

pairings — jason todd x fem!reader

warnings — mentions of scars (tracing healed ones), talk of marriage, being a normal mundane couple, VERY domestic romance (i crave!!), mentions of having children but nothing actually happening!!

summary — moving from gotham into a more rural and quiet area was the best decision you two had made, because it turned out perfectly.

━━━━━━━ WAKING UP TO YOUR side empty was normal, but still scary, for jason. he knew you were safe, he could smell the breakfast you were cooking downstairs. still, a part of him forced him up. he continued the same routine he’d normally follow now that you’d moved from Gotham together.

your marriage solidified your hopes of leaving Gotham behind. finding the house was the final straw, and Jason jumped at the chance to buy the house. thank god he’d been adopted into a rich family, since neither of you two had to work.

occasionally, you had part time shifts at a bakery in the small town nearby. you loved it, and Jason loved coming in to see you with flowers. the longer you two lived out here, the less people that cared how Jason was related to Bruce Wayne.

your lives had become a very mundane manner, your stomachs filled with a consistent warmth that eased you into the knowledge of safety. Jason no longer kept a gun under his pillow — you agreed to him keeping it in the beside table.

downstairs, Jason met your face in the small soft yellow kitchen. you’d painted over the original white color, in hopes of creating a very fairy-like cottage. it was working out, and you spun around to face your husband.

“hey, Jay.” you extended your arms, gathering him into a soft hug. Jason smiled into your neck, spinning you around. he peppered your face with kisses, muttering a greeting into your body.

“hey baby.” he said.

“y’hungry? i made pancakes.” you motioned your head to the plate on the table. there sat a plate of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fruits. Jason felt the warmth bubble, and an indescribable feeling of pure love towards you filled him. he didn’t know how else to explain it, he stared lovingly at you as you plated up your own plate, pouring two cups of coffee and handing one to your husband.

together the two of you fixed up your coffees before walking together to the rocking chairs on your back porch. there sat a small table between the two chairs, and you both set your things down.

you jogged back inside, turning on your guys’s favorite cd — a collection of love songs from the 60s. the familiar Skeeter Davis song flowed from the open windows, setting a calm mood over you two.

you both began drinking from your cups of coffee, as well as taking portions of your carefully prepared breakfast.

“i’ve been thinking, y’know.” you spoke after taking another sip of coffee. Jason looked up, intrigued. you met his eyes, hesitation crossing your features for a second — you never had to be afraid of saying anything to him.

“‘bout what?” he spoke, taking another bite of bacon.

“i think im ready, for a kid. i talked to my manager, i can get the time off when it happens.” you reached for his hand, and he happily took it. this statement by no means meant the two of you would try to rush it, you were both ready, and wouldn’t want to rush through this cherishing moment.

“really?” he was smiling brightly.

the rest of the day was spent relaxed in the bedroom you two shared, his head on your stomach and your hand crossing his back across every one of his old scars.

he didn’t mind, you wouldn’t cause them to reopen. ever since his old scars had died out, you noted how calm he was, how serene this entire portion of your life was.

“im so grateful. i love you so much.” you muttered, running your hands through his hair.

“i love you too, baby.” he rose up to kiss you gently, rubbing your jaw with his hand.

this was all you ever wanted.

masterlist — reminder that my requests / inbox is open

#ceciljameswork #batfam #damian wayne #dc comics #dick grayson #fluff #batfamily #batman comics #batman #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff

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girllblogging777 · 9 months ago

Text

𝑆𝐿𝑌𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁 𝑋 𝐺𝑅𝑌𝐹𝐹𝐼𝑁𝐷𝑂𝑅 𝐶𝑂𝑈𝑃𝐿𝐸 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁𝑆

↳ i made this gryffindor boy x slytherin girl but it works for all houses !!! (dating headcanons)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

✩ literally the slowest burn ever. you two met in your first year at hogwarts but never even talked until years later, during a trip to hogsmeade or maybe a party.

✩ obviously, the two of you don’t like eachother at first because of your opposite houses. all your life you’ve been told gryffindors were cocky, stubborn and you shouldn’t go near them..

✩ definitely some sort of enemies/rivals to lovers trope with mutual pining. even worse if you have to compete against each other in class or quidditch

✩ “everyone can see it but them”… you try to brush it off but it’s obvious based on how your eyes lock from opposite sides of the great hall during meals, and while walking down the stairs to get to class.

✩ when you first interact, he’s surprised to see that there’s more to you than the sarcasm and bitterness you’re used to showing. he manages to make you laugh and he just stands there, savouring your reaction in surprise.

✩ you too realise that he’s actually not the enemy you were raised to stay away from, and find yourself enjoying how the two of you seem to complete eachother perfectly.

✩ a match made in heaven ! when he tends to make decisions on impulse, you’re here to ground him and make him think about it. on the opposite, when your pride takes over, he brings you down to earth and validates your feelings.

✩ sooo flirty and bantery - you two are constantly teasing eachother and being sarcastic, and you love how he matches your energy so well.

✩ once both of you let eachother in, it’s pure happiness and adoration. he lets you into his world and so do you, discovering how beautiful love can be when you start trusting someone.

✩ however, your friends warn you off and the slytherins don’t really support you, making you feel like you’re teaming up with the antagonist or something... i guess it’s the price to pay for such an amazing relationship.

✩ because of that, the two of you keep it secret at first, meeting after curfew at the astronomy tower or in the secluded corners of a hallway between classes. you hate to admit it but the thrill of your love being forbidden makes it even better.

✩ prepare to be SHOWERED with love. his feelings for you are expressed in the form of gifts like cd mixtapes, quality time like clearing his schedule for you no matter what, and words of affirmation to reassure you whenever you feel down.

✩ you’re not used to loving and being loved so openly and it takes you quite some time adjust to it. even when he says “i love you” and you don’t say it back, he’s completely fine with it and always willing to wait for you.

✩ your number one supporter. he always watches you succeed from afar and celebrates with you in private. he doesn’t even care if you win against him in quidditch or gets better grades in exams, because he’s so damn proud of his girl.

✩ in conclusion, opposites do attract

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @icantkeepmyplantsalive @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey

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queef-of-fortune · 3 days ago

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Marionette (Doflamingo X Reader)

Chapter Forty-four:

Plot: When the Straw Hat crew got separated, Kuma sent her to the kingdom of Dressrosa. Unfortunately for her, she caught the eye of none other than the king himself. Donquixote Doflamingo.

(Y/N) laid awake for hours that night, tossing and turning as she thought about the contents of the room. About the CDs. The key sat on the nightstand, its metallic gold coating shimmering in the moonlight. She wanted to go back. To ask more questions but it would only make him suspicious. Maybe it’d be best if she just told him. No. She shut that thought down immediately.

How could she possibly tell him that she somehow managed to die, potentially by her own hand, and ended up a thousand years into the future. There was so much about this world that was unknown to her. Regardless she made it her home and had no intentions of ever returning home. She loved her crew and couldn’t wait for these two years of life with Doflamingo to be over.

Over the next week, she hardly got to go see the contents of the room. Doflamingo had kept her clung to his side. Why? Because New Year’s Eve was approaching and of course he’d be throwing one of the biggest parties in all of the world. Or so he claimed. It was the only night that the citizens of Dressrosa were allowed to stay out past midnight. Everyone was always excited for his parties, everyone was invited to this one. That was only because he turned the entire country into one big party for New Year’s.

Doflamingo didn’t want (Y/N) to feel left out like he thought she had during the preparation for his birthday party. He wanted to make it up to her. He wanted her to be involved this time. His idea of involvement however was dragging her around everywhere and insisting she pick out the color scheme (Hot pink and turquoise).

She was sick to her stomach with remembrance of his last party. How she had hidden from him and how he bawled at her feet, begging for her to not leave him. She’d never forget the way his tears clung to the fabric of her dress, how his saliva pooled at her skirt, his white knuckles grasped at her flesh. She shuddered at the thought.

“Cold?” He said, breaking her from her thoughts.

She shook her head quickly, “No, I’m fine.”

It was late at night, who knows what time. Doflamingo was scribbling on some parchment while he pretended to be busy. (Y/N) was lounging in her swing, wrapped up in his feathered coat reading a book. The Devil Fruit encyclopedia to be exact. She had enough time the other day to go in and grab it before he came searching for her again.

He couldn’t help but watch her from the corner of his eye as he pretended to work. Her presence was illuminating. The way her hair framed her face, how her eyes glossed over when she was sleepy. Even the way she curled up in a ball in her swing, covered in his garment. As far as he was concerned, she was the only star in the sky. And she thought he was an animal, a monster even. He loved and loathed it all at once.

Just then as he watched her, he felt something in him ignite. He was utterly inspired by her. He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began to scrawl across the paper. She clearly didn’t like his last letter and now he understood why. She was a hauntingly profound woman. She wasn’t moved by sexual desire and raw power like most of the women he’d been with. And that’s partially what drew him to her.

(Y/N) remained unaware as she began to doze off in the swing. His heart swelled as he watched her chest slowly rise and fall. How her eyes fluttered as she fought hard to keep her eyes open as the book in her lap began to slip. A small, real smile graced his features as he watched her. He wanted to scoop her up from the swing and cradle her in his arms while he lulled her to sleep. Instead, he continued to write. He couldn’t put her to bed yet, not while she was busy being his muse.

Once he had finished his new letter, he folded it up, he didn’t put it in an envelope this time. As she snoozed in the swing, he gently took the book from her hands marking her place with the letter before closing it back. Then with ease he lifted her from her seat. Of course it woke her up, not that she’d let him know. She was too tired to care or argue so she allowed him to carry her to bed.

(Y/N) didn’t touch the book again for days. She didn’t have the time considering how much planning he had her doing. He wanted her opinion on everything. He claimed it was to make up for missing her birthday. Not like she even cared. Doflamingo knew she hadn’t read the letter yet. He wanted to shove it in her face and watch her unfold as she read, but he knew it was best to just allow her to find it for herself. He knew this one would do the trick. It’d slide her right out of her panties and into his lap.

It was now New Year’s Eve, and the party was to begin in an hour. He had himself dressed in a confident, glimmering, magenta suit. The suit itself was like a raging disco ball. It looked almost metallic, and it shined and sparkled in the light. His outfit screamed ‘80’s coke dealer’. He of course had it paired with his white framed sunglasses and small golden hoops in his ears. As well as pristine, shiny black, dress shoes.

He picked out (Y/N)’s outfit as well. Her dress shined but not like his outfit, it was a hot pink in color and God was it tight. It was sparkly and stopped just above the ankles. The hem of the dress was adorned with light pink feathers that matched his usual coat. He also paired it with a pair of pink heels to match. For accessories he put her in a pearl choker with a bracelet to match. Her makeup was soft yet sexy with darker eyeshadow and rosy tones.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Stoned and drunk already. she could hear the party roaring from downstairs already. It took her longer than she expected to get ready. Doflamingo was of course already downstairs greeting his guests. She was stressed about this party. She didn’t want him to act a fool again. He scared her when he was desperate like that. Yet she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of him begging at her feet once more.

She took one last puff of her joint before putting it out in a nearby ashtray. Taking a big deep breath, she pulled herself from the mirror and decided to make her way downstairs to meet the man of the hour.

The ballroom was filled to the brim with guests of all different shapes and sizes. Some were even as big as Diamanté. The crowd poured from the room and into the corridors and even out front. She had never seen anything like it before. People were everywhere, even dancing in the streets. However, she did notice that only certain guests were allowed inside the palace. His personal guests she assumed.

She moved gracefully throughout the room despite her inebriated state. She scanned each towering face as she passed. There were so many people it was almost hard to find him. But of course, there he was, standing in the center of the room, basking in his own glory. Soaking up all the attention he could get.

As soon as he spotted her, his face lit up, “There she is!” He bellowed, reaching out with one hand and a drink in the other.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against his side roughly. He had clearly already had enough to drink and it wasn’t even midnight yet. Doflamingo kept his hand firmly around her waist, practically swallowing her whole.

“This here,” He slurred, “Is my new favorite toy.” He chuckled.

(Y/N) grimaced, groaning in irritation. The group of men before her had no intentions of hiding their hungry gaze. Doflamingo of course noticed.

“Watch it boys, you can look but don’t touch. I don’t share my toys. Especially this one.” He said teasingly, giving her ass a firm squeeze.

It caused her to jump and writhe from his grasp, clearly pissed. The men just laughed heartily at her response, as did Doflamingo. She stayed by his side for as long as she could stand. That was until he made a rather off-color remark—

“I mean look at her, look at those tits! Have you ever seen a prettier pair?” He gloated, staring down at her ravenously.

“Okay,” she said calmly, removing his hand from around her waist, letting it drop to his side. “We’re done here.”

And with that she walked away proudly, trying her hardest to not cause a scene. The men just giggled and waved as she headed for the bar. She was already hammered but what would one more drink hurt? She went ahead and ordered herself piña colada and watched him show his ass from afar.

(Y/N) sipped on her fruity little drink and observed the crowd mindlessly. That was until a voice from behind startled her out of her dissociative thoughts—

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you here.” A deep familiar voice spoke from behind.

With eyes wide she wiped around. There stood a tall man, damn near as big as Doflamingo. His hair was black and slicked back, a cigar hanging from his lips. Her heart dropped to her stomach instantly. She recognized the man alright. Crocodile.

Her heart throbbed in her ears along with the music. She remembered him. Of course she did, how could she not? Luffy took him down. He was arrested. He should be locked away right now. Did Doflamingo know he was here? I mean they were both warlords, maybe they had ties together.

(Y/N) didn’t say a word at first, just stared wide eyed and lips parted in surprise. He wouldn’t dare attack her here. Right? There’s no way he’d try and get revenge in the middle of a party, would he?

“H-how did…?” She trailed off, sweating and clenching her drink.

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he removed the cigar from his mouth, “You haven’t seen your captain in some time, have you?” He said, taking a seat beside her as he ordered himself a drink.

(Y/N) shook her head as she eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t seem like a threat… Yet. She glanced back over her shoulder at Doflamingo who was now gambling with a different group of men at a far-off table in the corner, hidden behind the sea of gyrating bodies. She then turned her attention back to Crocodile and her drink, stirring it idly.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked.

His sideways smile never left as he spoke, cigar hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth. “Your captain helped free me. How about that?” He ashed his cigar.

“What? Why would he do that?” She asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You don’t know much about what happened at Marineford that day, do you?” He said, looking almost equally as confused.

She shook her head no again.

Instead of informing her on the missed-out information, he asked a question of his own. “What the hell happened to you? I know the Strawhats got split up, but there’s no way Kuma sent you here.”

(Y/N) sighed, ruffling her hair in exhaustion. “Sure did. Don’t know why either. Now I’m stuck with… him…” She pointed a shaky finger over at the man himself, Doflamingo, who was cackling loudly across the room.

Crocodile tsked, shaking his head. “I feel bad for you kid. I wouldn’t wanna be stuck here with that flamboyant moron.”

(Y/N) covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“You never answered my question, why are you here, like at this party?” She asked, sipping from her cup.

“I was invited of course.” He replied, swirling the contents of his glass. “Tell me, what’s the deal between you and Joker?” He leaned forwards almost a little too eager.

“Joker?” She cocked her head to the side in confusion. “You mean Doflamingo?”

“Oh, you don’t know that either, huh?” He scoffed.

“Know what?” She asked before cutting herself and him off, “You know what, I don’t even care. I don’t need to be mixed up in any more of his shit.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“So, what are you to him then? His pet? Prisoner?” Crocodile smirked as he puffed smoke into her face.

“Both.” She huffed out, clearly displeased with her current situation.

He couldn’t help but laugh under his breath before downing his drink. “Another.” He said to the bartender, slamming his glass down.

(Y/N) watched as the woman poured the amber liquid over the ice cubes in his glass. He held up a hand, signaling her that that was enough.

“So, you used to be a Strawhat and now you’re a pet of the Donquixote family?” He teased.

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N) protested. “I didn’t leave. I was forced here and then taken against my will. Now I’m just trying to live out the next two years in peace.”

“Peace? With that guy? Good luck.” He raised his glass to her before downing its contents. “Nice talking to you, but I have some business to attend to.” And with that he stood and disappeared into the crowd, only leaving his empty glass as proof that he was there.

(Y/N) sat dumbfounded by the man. He was the last person she expected to see here. Did Doflamingo invite him here? What business did he have with him? She peered back over her shoulder to see what Doflamingo was up to just to find that he was gone from his previous spot. She scanned the room for him and Crocodile. They two of them were nowhere to be found. She couldn’t even sense his presence, and for once, she finally felt at ease, like she could finally enjoy the party.

#doflamingo one piece #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #doflamingo smut #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #op doflamingo #ao3fic #doffy

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percyjackson-post · 8 months ago

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What the Percy Jackson and Olympians characters would give as birthday gifts

Percy- A homemade baked good. That boy loves birthdays, and he loves baking; you will not convince me of anything else. He’s bringing something with far too much sugar and a truly concerning amount of blue dye. Most often his gift is blue cookies his mom helped him bake.

Annabeth- That girl is spending weeks agonizing over what to get. She needs it to be perfect, and she has to know you’ll love it. Which you will because she managed to track down something you mentioned 7 months ago that you think about constantly. It’s usually a very practical gift, but it is exactly what you need. One year it’s new headphones, another it's a brighter lamp; it's always something you want but can’t convince yourself is a priority.

Hazel- Hazel is making you a homemade card and a personalized drawing. She puts in so much effort, and it’s truly a beautiful gift. The minute she hands it to you, her eyes are shining, and she’s fighting back the biggest grin as she waits for your reaction. It will almost definitely be an intricate drawing of your favorite memory with her.

Frank- His gift is a small handmade trinket that took him a lot longer to make than he’d be willing to admit. It’s intricate and exactly your style. He looks a bit embarrassed and nervous as you open it, but then he's smiling and excitedly explaining exactly why he wanted to make it for you. It’s something like a wooden carving of your favorite animal or a new cover for your weapon.

Leo- You never know what you’re going to get from him, but you do know it will leave you laughing so hard your sides hurt. It’s also a handmade gift, but it’s less personalized and more something Leo thinks is cool and he knows you’ll also like. The fact it may be a fire hazard is just a part of the charm. His gift is a small animatronic toy that can and will turn into a dangerous weapon.

Jason- He listens a lot more than you give him credit for. He will always end up giving you something super meaningful that will remind you of how much he cares. It’s not an extravagant gift; it’s something you’ll use a lot or will see constantly and smile to yourself as you’re reminded of the memory. It’s a weighted blanket for late nights or a new version stuffed animal you loved but lost.

Piper- Her gifts are always incredibly chaotic, but you realize there is a lot of thought put into them. She’s got a good memory and will pick something very specific that you mentioned off-handedly once. You don’t need it, but life will be a bit more fun with it than without. A ridiculous, bendy straw to drink from bed or a blanket that looks like food—truly, you will never be prepared for what you get.

Thalia- She tries to be nonchalant, but she’s got a sly smile, and you can see how excited she is to give you a gift. It’s almost guaranteed to be a weapon, but it will be absolutely perfect for what you need. You can tell she spent a long time picking something out for you specifically, but she’s going to play it off like she just happened to come across it.

Nico- Whatever he gives you will surprise you, that’s for certain. A lot of people joke that he’s bringing some basic dark gift, but that excited 10-year-old boy is still just as much a part of him, however. His gift is something you’ll be able to do with friends and something that will keep spirits high and laughter going. Often it is a card game that you can tuck away and take with you; he knows what it’s like to feel alone on a quest.

Will- He’s giving you a free pass to not be scolded the next time you end up in the infirmary. You need it. Kidding…mostly. He’s getting you something semi-specific from the mortal world that you can share with friends. Sometimes it goes with Nico’s gift, but it’s also something completely his own. A set of movie CDs, a giant container of popcorn (he’s not as stuck up on health as everyone likes to tease)

Grover- Enchiladas. It’s not even a question or hypothetical that guy is bringing over at least 20 cheese enchiladas from his favorite restaurant. You’ll be lucky if they last more than 10 minutes. They’re incredible, and even if you’ve had them 20 times you’re eating, them like the ambrosia of the god

#it's my birthday #in case you were wondering #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #thalia grace #nico di angelo #will solace #grover underwood

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theredtours · 6 months ago

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MASSIVE TAYLOR SWIFT CD SALE! INCLUDES NEW ITEMS

Hello, and happy holidays! I'm Chloe, a big Swiftie, and even bigger CD collector. I've been collecting for the better part of thirteen (!!) years now, and in that time, have managed to end up with a... few... duplicates in my hoard. It's time that those repeats go to new Swiftie homes, where they will hopefully bring as much joy to you as they once did to me, and what better time than right before the holidays? So before I post everything (which will be under the cut) I just kind of want to give an overview of how this will work. A sort of FAQ, if you will.

1. To claim an item, you will need to message me. And yes, I do mean mean "message," not "ask." This way ensures not only that Tumblr won't eat your request, as it loves to eat inbox mail, but also so that I can then have a conversation with you about where to send the item(s). 2. I will only accept Venmo/PayPal as forms of payment. Venmo is the preferred method, because they don't charge any sort of fees, but I am aware that Venmo is not available internationally, and PayPal is the safest alternative. Shipping for one single item across the US is about $5, so that's all I'll ask for it. 3. I will ship internationally, but you must prepare for delayed delivery. Since it is the holiday season, I cannot guarantee that anything sent overseas will arrive before Christmas. Please keep this in mind before ordering. Furthermore, in this case, I will ask for the cost of postage in a second payment, and then will provide you with a tracking number in return. 4. If you are buying more than one item, I will combine shipping. Because I cannot possibly guess the cost of shipping for multiple items, I will send a second invoice for the cost of shipping, along with a tracking number for your package. 5. No returns/refunds are allowed. All sales are final, as the whole idea behind this is for me to lighten the load. I have multiple pictures of each item (most of which will not be posted here to avoid making this post even longer), and will send them your way upon request.

Items will be marked as SOLD as they are purchased, so make sure you are checking the post on my blog and not just via reblogs before inquiring! All purchases will be mailed out within three business days of receiving payment. I will also message you to let you know exactly when they go out!

Thank you for taking the time to read this; merry Swiftmas!!

ITEMS FOR SALE

Taylor Swift (Promo Version) SOLD

Beautiful Eyes EP (Walmart Exclusive) SOLD

Fearless Platinum Edition (Target Exclusive) - $25 - TWO AVAILABLE This version of the album comes with additional DVD content--specifically, it's two of the songs she performed at Clear Channel Stripped! The case has some minor cracks and the "sticker" is just a reprint for identification purposes, but both discs and all inserts are in really good condition! The second copy is basically identical, but I can send pictures if you're interested in seeing it specifically.

Speak Now (Starbucks Exclusive) - $30 Nothing on the CD is different from other US versions of this album, but this one, sold exclusively at Starbucks back in the day, comes with a fancy "O-ring" slipcover! Not many were made, so it's considered to be on the rarer side.

Speak Now (Walmart Exclusive) - $15 This version was sold exclusively to Walmart and contained a cute little coupon for Covergirl products! Unfortunately, this copy did not come with the insert, which is why I'm selling it off. The only notable differences between it and any other standard copy of Speak Now are the catalogue number and UPC. All the songs are the same.

Red SOLD

Red (Starbucks Exclusive) - $30 This Starbucks exclusive "digipak" version of Red folds in the middle, much like a vinyl record! It does have a small fold in the cover (see the first photo), but the CD and booklet are in perfect condition. This copy was sent to me with the second disc from the Target version of Red, so it will also be included with this purchase. You're basically getting the deluxe version in a cool, rare case haha. :)

Red (Costco Exclusive) - $30 Yes, there are a few minor case cracks on the front side (thanks, kitties), but the album is still sealed and comes with its insert! What sets this rare version aside from its peers is the hype sticker on the front, and the inclusion of a flyer that, while no longer valid, once allowed you to download 3 additional Taylor Swift songs for free!

Red (Deluxe Edition) (Target Exclusive) SOLD folklore: "meet me behind the mall" edition - $15 This version was sold exclusively on Taylor's website! Though it's no different than the one you can get at Target content-wise, it does have a different catalogue number and UPC, so if you're into that sort of thing, this is a steal. Plus, it's brand new!

folklore: "in the weeds" edition - $20 I'm only charging a little extra for this one for two reasons. One, it is a little more sought-after, so if it doesn't sell here, it's going to eBay. Two, it's the EU version (which means nothing content-wise, just catalogue number and UPC-wise), so it cost a little more to get it to me. This one also was a website exclusive, and it's sealed!

TTPD: Down Bad (Acoustic Version) - $10 Back in June, this was one of two versions of TTPD posted exclusively to Taylor's website. My post office lost my order, so I ended up contacting the store to get a new one sent out. Months later, the package mysteriously arrives! Here's your chance to own that surprise CD!

TTPD: Guilty as Sin? (Acoustic Version) - $10 This CD was also part of the lost package! It too likely has mysterious teleportation powers*, and for the fine price of ten bucks, could also magically show up at your house soon! *This statement has not been proven as fact by the author.

TTPD: The Manuscript (Collector's Edition) - $30 This one was sent to me by mistake when ordering another item from the webstore. They let me keep it, but I don't need it. Again, their loss is your gain! It's also sealed!

More to come in the following days as I downsize, but this is a good place to start, yeah? Please reblog so this reaches as many genuine Swifties as possible! Thank you in advance!!

#taylor swift #ttpd #swiftmas #cd #eras tour #(it's not really eras tour but I know tumblr only uses the first five tags to get the word out and 'eras tour' is a popular tag right now)#personal #text

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papervenom · 2 months ago

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✩ chapter two: the leaky cauldron ✩

summary: you’re a third-year transfer from the states with magic that turns heads — and veela blood that makes it impossible not to be noticed. you didn’t ask to get caught up in their world, but now you’re in it, and nothing is going to play out the way it was supposed to. a slow-burn, character-driven take on prisoner of azkaban, told through your perspective.

word count: 3.6k

INCEPTION MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

Shortly after celebrating my enrollment to Hogwarts by maniacally jumping on the sofa and screaming until our lungs hurt, we finally managed to rip open the fat envelope Dumbledore handed me.

Inside we found my acceptance letter, a list of required school materials and textbooks, directions to a pub called the Leaky Cauldron (where a man named Tom would be taking me in until the term started), and two tickets— one being an airline ticket dated for the 6th of August and the other for the Hogwarts Express.

After Dumbledore's visit, every waking hour was dedicated to organizing my trip to England.

In the limited days that we had, toiletries were bought, my clothes have been stuffed in a newly-purchased trunk and my acceptance letter to my new school hung proudly up on our living room wall.

The night before my flight, I searched the attic for the pitifully small collection of Wizarding books that I've obtained by stealing from my former teachers' private libraries when they weren't looking. And I've intended to read every single one in preparation.

I don't even remember falling asleep, but I woke up with a page from my copy of Hogwarts, A History stuck to my face.

I've never experienced a more chaotic morning—with making sure I had everything ready, gulping down my breakfast, and rushing out the door.

Soon, I found myself kissing my teary-eyed mother goodbye and boarded the plane that would take me to the United Kingdom.

I couldn't exactly envision Dumbledore purchasing an airline ticket, so I was nervous about the validity of the ticket I had in hand. It was a relief when they found my name in the system and I didn't waste a second in finding my seat and sinking into it.

My flight was approximately ten hours. My anxiety was running too high to simply sit there, so to take my mind off of everything that was looming ahead, I reached for the in-flight magazines.

There was the expected SkyMall paper. I spent a while giggling at all the absurdities it had to offer but quickly stashed it away before I impulsively bought something. The next magazine was Knitter's Own that raved about crafts and knitting which I quickly grew bored of and put away as well.

Finally, there was The Guardian. A British Newspaper which had a news story that caught my eye.

Warning: Not To Approach Missing Prisoner Who Was Spotted Near Dufftown, Aberdeenshire

Prisoner, Sirius Black— an escaped convict who is claimed to be carrying a firearm, has escaped the penitentiary he's been incarcerated in and is said to be extremely dangerous. He's last been seen in Dufftown, Aberdeenshire, Scotland, though our English readers should be wary and keep a lookout around their area as well. A special hotline has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately. The last known image of Sirius Black is pictured below.

My eyes squinted as I scrutinized the image of the prisoner closely. The newspaper's dark ink didn't help give a clear image but Black was pictured to have massive, disheveled hair and deep-set eyes. So deep that they just looked like sockets on a cadaver.

I tossed the paper to the side with the others.

Just my luck.

First time visiting England and there's a madman on the loose.

I took out my Discman, my favorite gift my mom has ever given to me, as well as one of the CD's I've burned in preparation for the long trip.

As I put on my headphones and closed my eyes, I hoped that I would never have to encounter Sirius Black in my lifetime.

༻✦༺

It was nighttime when I arrived in London. There was nothing I wanted more but a bed to sleep on but Dumbledore's directions to The Leaky Cauldron were so ominous, it had me on edge.

The information was scribbled on a small piece of parchment.

Leaky Cauldron.

Location: The dimmest street on Charing Cross Road

Even my cab driver seemed concerned as to what business I had in central London at the dead of night but I had no energy to care for his curious glances.

Surprisingly enough, once I hopped out of the cab at Charing Cross Road, it took no trouble at all to locate the pub.

I dragged my luggage towards the run-down building that was The Leaky Cauldron, never feeling so relieved in the entirety of my life, and entered.

As I walked in, I wasn't expecting the pub's business to be so slow.

It was a Friday night so I was fully prepared to walk in on a large crowd of inebriated adults, and having to cause some damage to my vocal chords as I called out for Tom over the boisterous noise.

But that wasn't the case.

There were about five adult men in total scattered around the pub.

Three were gathered around a table and drinking pints of what seemed to be foamy beer, one was sitting further away, alone, and magically swirling a spoon in his teacup with his finger as he read from a book, and the last was behind the pub's counter, drying the used glasses with a dirty, old rag.

All of them were staring at me who was standing startled by the door.

"Tom?" I asked, meekly— my eyes shifting between the five men who were staring at me vehemently.

"Who're you?" lisped the bald, toothless man gruffly from behind his wooden counter. His eyes were widened in surprise.

"Erm, I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Professor Dumbledore told me tha—"

"Ah! Yes, yes! The American!" The man swung his dirty rag across his shoulder and hobbled around the counter, making his way towards me.

Behind him, the group of three raised their pints to me enthusiastically and started drunkenly bellowing The Star-Spangled Banner.

The toothless hunchback waved a hand to the singers in an attempt to shut them up and picked up my luggage and bowed.

"I'm Tom. Lovely to meet you, madam,"

"Lovely to meet you, Tom" I replied politely, feeling awkward with all the attention I was receiving.

"Let me show you to your room. Come on!"

Tom trodded up the stairs, and I followed— grinning at the carolers who continued butchering the national anthem.

Upstairs there were a couple of tables just like there was on the first level of the pub, but mostly there were rows upon rows of wooden doors going down a long, dim hallway that resembled something you'd see straight out of a horror film about a motel.

Tom opened one of the first doors, revealing a room so dusty that the mirrors were opaque with it. There was a wooden canopy bed, a fireplace right across it with blackened walls around it that indicated a previous fire, a window with no curtains, and a dresser in the corner with a white vase above it which held a dead rose.

"It's... nice. Thank you." I nodded reassuringly at Tom who was staring up at me expectantly with a gummy smile as I stepped inside.

It was no Holiday Inn but it had a bed and that was really all I cared for.

"I'm so glad you think so, madam! Would you be wanting some tea? Biscuits?"

"Actually, I really, really would love to get some rest now. The jet lag is really getting to me."

Tom looked at me as if I started speaking another language.

"The time difference," I explained myself, "From America and here... it's a big one... so I'm very tired."

He now seemed to understand what I meant by jet lag. He let out a wild, hearty laugh that made my skin crawl a bit.

"Yes! Yes, I'd imagine so! I'll let you be then, Ms. (Y/L/N). Come on down tomorrow for breakfast and further instructions given to me by Dumbledore, okey?"

"Alright Tom, thanks."

Tom's toothless grin was the last thing I saw before flinging myself on the dusty bed and dozing off, wondering what was in store for me tomorrow.

༻✦༺

The next morning, it was easier to grasp the fact that I was in London and in the Wizarding World after a good night's rest.

Once getting dressed and ready, I headed downstairs in search of the breakfast Tom offered and was curious about what other instructions Dumbledore could've given Tom for me.

The pub was way more packed than it was last night. There were witches and wizards and even a few dwarves.

I had to shift my gaze every few moments to prevent myself from ogling at the other breakfasters. I've never seen so much magic in a room so it was difficult to hide my expressions. I suspected that the word got out that I was an American because I swore that sometimes they were staring right back.

Tom served me my very first, full English breakfast. The expected beans, sausages, bacon, tomatoes, and eggs.

I thoroughly enjoyed it.

So much so that the plate looked clean once I was finished.

In fact, I was so preoccupied with the food that I neglected the letter addressed to me that was placed on the side of my plate.

"Tom?" I turned to the balding bartender and raised the envelope in question.

"Dumbledore said it has all you need to know!" He called out loudly from somewhere behind a swarm of Leaky Cauldron customers.

I opened it and immediately recognized the handwriting.

(Y/N)—

I do hope that your arrival was a safe one and that everything is up to par at The Leaky Cauldron. There are some tasks you need to accomplish before you're ready to board the Hogwarts Express. You'll need to find your way towards Diagon Alley. There is absolutely no better place for you to gather your necessities for the new term. There is an entrance through the pub's backyard, you'll be able to access it from there. You'll want to find Gringotts Bank next, I left the key to your vault with Tom, you should keep it very safe. I'll be looking forward to seeing you in September. You'll be a great addition to Hogwarts, we are very delighted to have you join us.

Best Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

After Tom handed over my key as well as a burgundy velvet pouch, I was off to search for Diagon Alley.

It didn't take long to find the backyard of The Leaky Cauldron, but I was immediately brought to a halt when finding a solid brick wall where there should've been an exit.

Assuming that I was at the wrong place, I paced around the pub four times before ending up facing the same red-bricked wall.

I scowled down at Dumbledore's note in frustration, my hopes of exploring more of the magical world diminishing when suddenly an elderly witch with snow-white hair and a dark brown shawl walked straight past me and pulled out her wand.

I watched in admiration as she tapped on various bricks expertly and my mouth dropped in surprise when the bricks started shifting to form an archway to what was undoubtedly, Diagon Alley.

"Where's your wand?" croaked the old witch. I knew she was talking to me because there was no one else at the entrance except the two of us— but I simply couldn't meet her eyes. I was distracted by the scene before me.

"Haven't got one," I replied, distantly, setting foot in the most wonderful place I've ever seen.

Everywhere I looked, it blew my mind away.

The Leaky Cauldron soon became an old, dull, and boring pub compared to the enchantment that was Diagon Alley.

I passed an ice cream parlor that sold ice cream that didn't melt, a shop that specialized in ingredients for potions, brooms flew around the skies by themselves, and some owls even hooted and snapped their beaks at me when I passed their building.

There was something new and exciting to see everywhere I looked.

I wandered in and out of the stores, discovering incredible items but soon realized that I was wasting my time if I had no money.

My mom sent me abroad with fifty dollars in my pocket which I converted to euros at the airport, but I had a feeling that it wouldn't benefit me much here as I watched witches and wizards pay their fees with a currency that resembled golden and bronze coins.

I took out Dumbledore's letter that mentioned the Gringotts bank and stared at the bronze key that was given to me, and made it my mission to find it.

I was strolling down the alley with the dozens of other shoppers when I saw it.

It was a moving picture of a face I've seen before.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WIZARD?

APPROACH THIS MAN WITH EXTREME CAUTION!

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE MAGIC ON THIS MAN!

Any information leading to the arrest of this man will be heavily rewarded. Notify immediately by owl the Ministry of Magic.

Sirius Black seemed even more feral when moving.

He was thrashing around wildly and seemed to be screaming right at me.

"...How in Merlin does one escape Azkaban!?"

"...Twelve Muggles. Twelve! All that was left was a ruddy finger!"

"...I've heard he was a good friend of the Potters! But then he betrayed them that night and became a loyal supporter of You-Know-Who!"

Every witch and wizard around me was staring and pointing at the moving mugshot as they passed and spoke in hushed voices.

The coincidence of Black being part of the Wizarding World alarmed me. I didn't even notice that I walked into the bank I was searching for, and right past the two rows of goblins, because I was so lost in thought.

It wasn't until I was waiting in line, to talk to what seemed to be the head goblin, when I finally noticed my surroundings. Gringotts was gorgeously elegant with its marbleized textures and enormous, crystal chandeliers.

"Key?" Spat a voice behind me.

The goblin didn't look so friendly but his tone still threw me off.

I immediately handed my key to the head goblin, whose name, I learned, was Griphook. I didn't want to make him any more irritated than he already seemed to be.

The trip to my vault was one I didn't anticipate. A magic cart navigating itself through what appeared to be miles underground.

Once we got to my vault, I wasn't sure what to expect at all. I really doubted that my mom transferred money to me and she was my only source of income.

I was already embarrassed that I wasted Griphook's time and wouldn't put it past him to push me over the edge of this passageway and let me fall to my death in his spite.

I winced as he opened the vault and I absolutely didn't expect to see what was inside. There was a pile of golden coins that was almost my height.

I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at it, hesitating to even go inside since I was certain it couldn't belong to me.

I turned to the goblin to find him scowling up at me.

"Well? You silly girl, I haven't got all day!"

And with that, I grabbed handfuls of the silver, bronze, and golden colored coins and stuffed them in my velvet pouch until there wasn't room for any more.

Stepping out into Diagon Alley wasn't as thrilling as the first time. I was too intimidated by the stores since I couldn't understand the Wizarding currency to purchase my materials, so I just started making my way back to the pub.

I stopped to get some icecream and grew tired of all the stares I got. Surely, because of my American accent.

I considered feigning a British accent from now on and wondered if I could get away with it, but decided not to make a further fool of myself.

I already embarrassed myself horribly when trying to pay Florean Fortescue three galleons instead of three knuts for a cone of icecream.

This mistake drove every witch and wizard in the ice cream shop to have a laughing fit that desperately made me want to learn to disapparate on the spot. Florean was understanding and patient when correcting me, though. Bless him.

The sun was setting and the murmuring of the shoppers became background noise as I contemplated everything I found out today.

I waited by the brick wall for someone to open the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron as I brooded.

The coincidence of Sirius Black being a wizard was concerning, but trying to find the reason behind my sudden wealth occupied my mind even more.

Back in the states, we weren't exactly wealthy.

Mom always gave me everything that I needed, and our house was decent, but we weren't rich.

We got by the best we could— my mother raising me on her own, but I always knew to be considerate with money and not to take it for granted.

A wizard with a filthy appearance and a smug smile that made me uncomfortable finally opened the entrance to the pub.

I quickly entered and slipped away to the London streets to locate a payphone and call my mom. Luckily, there was one right across from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hello? (Y/N)?"

"Hi, mama... I'm sorry I'm just now calling you... I had some things I had to do today and I didn't even get most of it finis—"

"Oh, honey. I'm just glad to hear from you, baby. I wasn't sure I was going to. How's London? Tell me everything! Where are you calling me from?"

I suddenly got distracted when a TRIPLE decker bus appeared out of nowhere. I cursed under my breath and squinted at it in the dark. It read The Knight Bus.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah mom. Sorry. Everything's fine, I'll tell you everything later, I don't have much time. I actually called because something weird happened. Dumbledore instructed me to visit a wizarding bank here, to get some money to buy my stuff... and I found a big, enormous, pile of golden coins. Enough to make me wealthy here. That has to be a mistake, right? Did you send me all of that?"

My eyes were still trained across the street on the ridiculous, purple bus. I just knew something about it was magical.

And I was proven correct when a boy my age stepped out with a big, brown trunk and an empty owl cage. I couldn't see much of him other than his tousled, black hair.

"Mom?" I questioned my mom's silence.

"Darling, I..."

"Mom. Who sent me that money?"

"I.. I think it was your father."

We were both silent now.

I knew nothing about my dad other than the fact that he and my mom fell in love when they were young and he ditched us not long after I was born. He was always a sore subject for me and suddenly I didn't want to continue the conversation anymore.

"Right, well. How lovely of him." I replied flatly. "Look, mama... I have to go. I'll call you before I'm off to Hogwarts, yeah? Then I'll find another way to contact you from there. Love you."

I didn't even let her respond before hanging up hastily and heading back inside. I rushed past the few clients that were left in the pub and went upstairs to my room.

Dumping all the coins on the bed, I picked up the biggest of the three and scrutinized it. It pissed me off that after years of being at peace with my father's absence, he started springing up into my life now.

Now that I'm supposed to be at my happiest, he causes a disturbance.

Does he think this money is a recompense? What even is he up to that gives him access to so much money?

How does he know I'm in London and got accepted to Hogwarts?

I rolled my eyes and threw the coin down with the others and left my room once again.

I watched the occurrences of the pub below from upstairs with disinterest, leaning idly over the barricade.

"Enjoy your stay, Harry." spoke a pudgy, gray-haired wizard to the same boy I saw outside.

With the pub's lighting and the new angle, I noticed that, apart from his unruly jet-black hair, he also had green eyes behind circular glasses and a scar that resembled a lightning bolt on his forehead.

The stout, older, elegant wizard left, and then Harry started walking towards the staircase I was leaning by, but I didn't move.

"Oh, hi." Harry seemed startled by me as soon as he reached the second level floor. I smiled at him, expecting him to walk away, but he lingered.

"Hey." I finally answered, figuring he wanted to make conversation. "I'm (Y/N)."

He seemed astonished again, which I presumed once more, was because of my accent.

"I'm, er, Neville Longbottom." He shifted his weight uncomfortably as his eyes darted a bit.

I frowned at him in confusion.

"No, you're not. I just heard that man down there call you Harry."

Harry was very twitchy and awkward and I had no idea as to why he just lied to me.

"Oh." He simply replied. I raised an eyebrow at him, grinning.

I walked past him and towards my room, turning to see him still grounded on the same spot and staring at me.

"You're a liar, that's what you are." I stated, matter-a-factly.

To my relief, he broke into a toothy grin, making the previous awkward tension more comfortable.

"Right." He agreed.

I nodded to him and entered my room, closing the door behind me.

Laying down on my bed, exhausted from my day, I smiled at the fact that I might have just made my first friend.

✩ next chapter: harry, hermione and the weasleys ✩

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greendayauthority · 5 months ago

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"In the weeks leading up to 29th September 2004, BBC Radio One in the UK were running a competition. 100 lucky competition winners would get to see Green Day up close and personal perform a taped gig at Maida Vale Studios in London to celebrate the release of their brand new album, American Idiot. I managed to win 2 tickets because I'd correctly answered that 'One light, one mind, flashing in the dark' were lyrics from Minority, quicker than the 1500+ others in the BBC chatroom on that afternoon in early September 2004. The BBC chatroom mod moved me to a private room where they took my details. I was over the moon. I'd been a massive fan since 11 years old, running 2 Green Day websites in the UK. I couldn't quite believe that here I was now, 21 and getting to see them at such a small venue. The smallest previously had been at the Brixton Academy.

Unbeknownst to many of the successful ~100 competition winners, a runner at BBC was calling said competition winners looking to find 'the UK's number 1 Green Day fan.' Fortunately, when I mentioned 'I've been a fan for 10 years, run Green Day websites and know that The Network were in fact Green Day,' she said 'can I come see you for an interview on Friday?'

She arrived on the Friday, with a gift of 'The Network - Money Money 2020' on CD (I already had a copy, and she conceded that she probably should have guessed that!). She interviewed me for a couple of hours about all things Green Day and it was later aired (post 29th September) on BBC Radio One under a headline of '15 Minutes of Fan.'

Fast forward to the 29th September 2004, BBC asked me to arrive at Maida Vale earlier to get some soundbites for their production. I was introduced and spent time with Zane Lowe inside the venue as the competition winners queued outside. As I was sitting down inside the venue, I heard Mike Dirnt talking in a room not too far away and my urge was to get up and find him. BBC asked me not to and there may be a chance shortly. Begrudgingly but in highsight probably a good decision.

After 30 minutes or so, we were wrapped with the soundbites. Zane asked me to follow him. He said stay relaxed and you can stick around. We walked into the main studio at Maida Vale and immediately I saw the equipment out. Tre was sitting on his stool talking to his tech. Zane introduced me to Tre, he saw my Green Day shirt said hi, gave me a hug and asked how I was. He made me immediately feel at ease and I realised right then what Zane had done and what he meant. No sign of Billie or Mike yet.

After speaking for 10 minutes or so (inc Bill Schneider who asked if my shirt was official as he'd never seen it), everyone started making their way out of the studio room and towards a back room. Nobody asked me to leave. I quietly followed. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a couch in a room with about a dozen people including Billie, Mike and Tre (and Jason). I said hi and shook hands, I tried to act relaxed but inside my stomach, it was a shit show. They were preparing for the gig, I was handed a Budweiser and I tried to stay out of the way. They were all kind, professional and in that very moment I did my very best to NOT be Green Day's biggest UK fan; because that would have never got me in that room in the first place!

After 5 minutes, Zane said good luck to the band and to enjoy it. They embraced, I shook their hands and left with Zane. We went back to the studio room and I took my position right in front of Billie's mic stand. Shortly after, competition winners began streaming in to join me in the room. 10-15 minutes later, Green Day were on.

After the gig, Billie handed me his pick. Surreal but unforgettable experience."

— SpuddyUK on Reddit

#green day #green day live #billie joe armstrong #2004 #maida vale studios #radio 1 #29 september #american idiot era #radio shows #bbc #radio one #fan stories #fans #london

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otomehonyaku · 1 year ago

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Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 7 Ruki ☽ SKiT Dolce・Rejet Shop Tokuten Drama CD ☽ Absurd Lesson ♪

Original title: 理不尽レッスン♪ Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (provided and owned by me)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I reached 1000 followers last week, so here’s a special treat: one of Ruki’s Daylight tokuten CDs, plus a translation which you can read below the cut╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ This was yet another short but sweet one with a surprisingly wholesome message. I hope you enjoy!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

00:00 Hey. Have you finally finished getting ready?

[You apologise for taking so long.]

Heh. It’s alright. We still have some time before we have to go to class.

Besides, Kou and the others are still busy preparing.

Have a seat, too. It seems like it’ll take a while longer.

[You sit down.]

I thought I’d prepare tea, so I boiled some water. Would you like some?

[You suggest getting the tea for him.]

No, I’ll pour it for you. I have only just cleaned the kitchen, after all. I would like to have it as tidy as possible before we leave.

[Ruki walks to the counter.]

Come to think of it, they’re being so rowdy that we can hear them all the way from here. Are they bickering again? Kou and Yuma tend to fight over who gets to use the bathroom first, right?

[You confirm his suspicions.]

Hm. So they were, even though that only chips away at the time they actually get to use the bathroom to begin with…

They never learn, do they?

[Ruki pours the tea.]

Every time we wait for them to get ready, we head out late.

[Ruki brings the tea to you.]

Here’s yours. Be careful not to burn yourself.

We should be able to head out by the time we finish drinking the tea.

[You compliment him on his time management.]

You know I always like to have ample time before going out.

[You tell him that he’s much quicker than you are.]

It’s not as if I’m particularly quick to get ready. The four of you are slow. You always take way too long, even though your routine is the same every day. It’s only school. There is no need for such lengthy preparations.

[You tell Ruki he does much more before class than you do.]

Well, that’s true. I have many things to do, but none of them are major tasks. When you make a habit out of cooking and cleaning, you get the hang of it quickly, and it all goes smoothly before you know it. Even if I actually were to be burdened with more tasks, I would still be done before you guys.

[You ask him why he thinks that.]

It must be because I’m skilled in time management. I plan out all of my tasks for the day in advance. What I am trying to say is: you simply have to calculate the amount of time you need for each of these tasks.

[You tell him you wish you were more like him in that regard.]

Like me, you say? Well, alright. I will do you a favour and teach you some of the tools of the trade.

[You ask him if that’s alright with him.]

Yes. If you learn to divide your time more effectively, you will have more time to help me out with running the household, right? If we can successfully distribute the household chores, we will both have more free time. I see no disadvantages.

[You tell him you will work hard.]

03:50 That’s the spirit. I wish Kou and the others would follow your example. If you help me out with the chores, I might have some time left to prepare a dessert for you.

[You’re happy about that.]

Heh, you silly girl. You are much too happy about such trivial things. However, if you are a good student and learn how to manage your time more effectively, I will make whatever you request. Would you like blancmange, panna cotta, or rather pudding? These are fairly straight-forward desserts, so I could easily make them for you. After all, it’s my job as your master to discipline you.

[You get flustered.]

You look like your mind is wandering. I always intend to discipline you thoroughly, but no matter how much time passes, your reaction is always the same. I thought you would have gotten used to it by now, but…

[His remark makes you a little shy.]

You are truly hopeless. Well, all the more reason for me to discipline you. Anyway, we have limited time before we have to go to class, so I should quit the teasing for now. Seeing you so flustered only makes me want to tease you all the more, though. That’s no good, is it?

[You make a face.]

What, does that displease you? The face you were making earlier told me otherwise. If you want, we could continue this after class. You like it better when I take my sweet time to torment you, right?

[You keep your mouth shut.]

I will take your silence as a yes. Well, fine by me. Your face is like an open book, anyway.

06:28 Well, then, it is my duty as your master to teach you what I know. I will explain things in a clear order that will be easy for you to understand, so listen carefully.

[You respond enthusiastically.]

Heh. That’s what I wanted to hear. Let’s start with time management, then. You know most of the things you need to do in a day, right? You must have daily habits and other recurring tasks. You have to fit these tasks together like a puzzle and think about which ones you can carry out at the same time.

[You ask him what he means.]

Right… For example, I do the dishes while I’m cooking, or I make a side dish(1) while I’m heating up soup. I actively try to perform tasks at the same time whenever possible. What’s important is to not waste time.

[You ask him to elaborate.]

07:07 Well, if you act without using your head, you tend to waste time much more easily. You should make a habit out of acting with intention. If you do that, you will be able to divide your time more effectively in general, not just when getting ready to go out.

[You tell him that Ruki is much better at it than you are.]

It’s not as if I do anything difficult in particular. You can do it too. It just takes practice. First, tell me the things you need to do in a day.

[You tell him.]

Hm. Washing your face and brushing your teeth are things you should do at the sink. It is best to do the various things you need to do in a given place all in succession. Moving from room to room to do something is a good example of wasting time. Are there other things you do near the sink?

[You tell him.]

08:05 I didn’t expect you to have so much to do. So, hair styling and skincare—they each have an order to them too, right? Try to think of whether there are any unnecessary steps in these actions.

[You start listing the steps in your hair care routine, but…]

Wait. You do all that just for your regular hairstyle? I can understand combing your hair, but is applying hair oil and using a hair curler really necessary?

[You nod.]

I see. If you say it’s necessary, then it must be. Looking after your appearance is not a bad thing, after all. But if your hair styling alone consists of so many steps, your skincare routine must have even more.

[You start to tell him, but…]

09:04 No, I’ve heard enough. I understand very well that you need to do many things in order to get ready. Are there any steps in your hair styling and skincare that you could perform at the same time?

[You’re unsure.]

I see. If that’s the case, then you should try looking to improve elsewhere. But even then…

[You ask him whether something’s wrong.]

No, I’m actually kind of impressed. There is much more to your morning routine than I thought. I knew women always took some time to get ready in the morning, but I did not expect this. As a man, it barely takes any time. To do all of these additional things must take considerable effort. You do all of these steps every day, right?

[You nod.]

I see. That is quite admirable.

[You’re surprised.]

Why are you so surprised?

[You tell him it’s because of his compliment.]

Is it that unusual for me to praise you? As your master, I assumed it was only natural to reward you when you deserve praise, but… It must not have been enough for you. If you wish, I could give you a more obvious reward.

[You get flustered again.]

10:38 Heh. Your cheeks are red. What did you imagine just now? I figured that it would suffice to pet your head or pamper you from time to time, but to you, that is only a half-hearted reward, isn’t it?

[You deny it.]

Heh. If you shake your head so vigorously, the hairstyle you spent so much time on will go to waste. After all, considering all the time and effort you put into your hair, I should refrain from petting your head, too. I should think of other methods to reward you.

[You’re a little disappointed.]

Heh. No need to be so sad. I did not say I would never touch you again. I should merely touch you carefully so as to not ruin your hair and makeup. Besides, we’re only talking about before you get ready, right? When we’re at home, it doesn’t matter how messed up your hair gets…

[Ruki holds you close.]

Next time I reward you, I am sure it will be to your liking. Look forward to it. And from now on, I will factor in the time you need to get ready when we make plans to head out together. Because thanks to you, I fully understand how much effort women put into their appearance.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

1. Honestly I just wrote ‘side dish’ here because I could not decipher for the life of me what word he used instead lol

#we love a bloodsucking king who respects women let's be real #and h o n e s t l y this is a man after my heart especially when it comes to the planning stuff. im genuinely surprised he's not a virgo to #diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers translations #diahell #otomehonyaku #my translations #mukami ruki #ruki mukami #diabolik lovers drama cd #diabolik lovers drama cds #diabolik lovers drama cd translation #diabolik lovers daylight

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raapija · 1 year ago

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Hi. Could you please write a little something about strollonso raising the two babies? Like their experience with the twins when they were just a few months old maybe? About being parents for the first time. And the older kids meeting the twins and interacting with them. Sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Thanks for this cute prompt ! <3 Have fun reading, and I hope you like it !

summary: It's a couple months into Lance and Nando having the twins. The house is a mess and both of them are dying from sleep deprivation, but other than that, it's going great ! Also, Charlos come to visit... warnings: no warnings babes <3

Fernando was spread on his and Lance's bed, every limb pointing to a different direction like a starfish. He was on the brink of falling asleep, when he heard the baby monitor go off, a small cry coming from the other end. He dragged his hands over his face and sighed, laying for a couple seconds more before heaving himself up and making his way downstairs.

Lucía had woken up and was now crying like a fire-siren, making Fernando's ears ring as he entered the babies' room. He carefully got the little girl into his arms, resting her against his chest and shoulder. He rocked her gently and shushed her, while walking over to Jayden's crib to check on him, too.

"Increíble..." he said under his breath as he saw the boy was still fast asleep, completely clueless to his sister's crying from before.

Fernando made his way towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to get a bottle of already pre-made baby formula. He then sat down at the dinner table, holding the baby girl safely on his lap and slipping the bottle into her mouth.

After Lucía had finished eating, he got her back up into his arms to burb her. And oh boy, did she burb.

"Ay, dios mío, mi pequeña niña." Fernando fanned the air around them with his hand. The little girl could produce some of the nastiest smells.

After he had gotten Lucía settled back into her crib and she had fallen asleep, Fernando made his way to the living room to find his husband passed out on the couch. His hair was a mess, his shirt was probably on backwards and he was literally drooling. Fernando thought he looked a bit ridiculous, but in a charming, endearing kind of way.

Lance was clutching another baby monitor in his hand and Fernando gently got it out of his fingers. Lance stirred a little in his sleep, and Fernando's heart skipped a beat as he got spooked that he had woken him up. But alas, Lance was still far away in his dreams.

Fernando decided to stuff the baby monitor into the kangaroo pocket on his hoodie and then go prepare something to eat for the two of them. He was a terrible cook, but he figured Lance would appreciate the gesture either way.

He popped one of his favorite CD's in the kitchen radio, El Sueño de Morfeo was the band. He put the volume on low and danced around the kitchen, humming along with the melody and throwing together a mix of leftovers. He even chopped some fresh tomatoes to go with it. Fernando had always told Lance if there was someone he would marry instead of him, it was the lead singer of the band, Raquel. And Lance would always sneer at him and say he would marry some sleazy hockey player from the Habs that Fernando refused to remember the name of.

Fernando gently poked on Lance's arm to try and wake him up. When the poking didn't work, he tried kissing him like a Disney princess that had fallen into a deep slumber. No luck there either. He looked at him a bit longer before growing impatient.

"Wake up, idiot." he barked and Lance jolted awake, looking around in a panic and then slumping back down when he saw Fernando smirking at him.

"Hello, churri. I made you dinner." Fernando cooed and Lance rubbed his eyes.

"How long was I asleep for? Are the kids okay?" he croaked and sat up. Fernando kissed him on the cheek and then hurried off to the dinner table to pull one chair from under it, beckoning for Lance to come over. After Lance had managed to drag his body over and sat down, he went to grab him his plate, placing it before him with unnecessary flair. Lance scowled at him and then started to pick through the food with his fork, trying to figure out just what exactly it was he was about to put into his mouth.

"Bebés are fine. I fed Lucy about half an hour ago, both sleeping." Fernando said and watched Lance's expression go from doubt to pleasant surprise when he tasted the food.

"I'm impressed." the Canadian said and took another forkful, seemingly hungry from his sleep. Fernando smiled and dug in himself.

Next morning, Fernando was shuffling around the house trying not to make too much noise while tidying up. He had his arms full with a selection of milk bottles, rattle toys, teddies and onesies.

Carlos was coming over to see the twins for the first time in a month and he was bringing sweet and lovely Charles with him. Oliver was staying with Charles's parents, which had made Fernando's blood boil when they had told him last night over the phone. He wanted to hold his grandson, maybe steal him from them for good. He was so adorable; Oliver looked exactly like Charles with his itty-bitty little green eyes, long lashes and rosy pink cheeks.

"What are you doing?" he heard Lance whisper from behind him. Fernando almost dropped everything as he quickly twirled around, holding in a scream from being scared by him. Lance stared back at him, still groggy from sleep and his bathrobe sliding down off one of his shoulders. His shirt was all crinkled up and his pajama pants barely held onto his waist with the strings hanging loose. The hairband in his hair was hardly keeping his messy bun intact.

"Cleaning." Fernando hissed at him and went on to dump all the stuff from his hands into a big toy basket and slammed the lid shut. He'd deal with it later when the guests were gone.

"I see..." Lance raised an eyebrow at him. "Coffee?"

"Please." Fernando sighed and they both made their way towards the kitchen, avoiding stepping on loose duplos and little wooden cubes.

"It's weird, how much they look like Lance." Carlos said as he stared at Lucía and Jayden on Fernando's lap on the couch. Carlos was squatting in front of them, examining the kids closely.

"Well, they are mine..." Lance noted from behind him but the younger Spaniard ignored him. Carlos reached out his hand and one of the babies grabbed onto his finger, making a babbling sound. He shook hands with the baby, saying a Spanish greeting as well.

"They're beautiful. Right, Carlos?" Charles nudged Carlos with his foot and the man grunted, presumably agreeing. Lance yawned, already craving for another cup of coffee after they had just stood up from the table and put their cups away.

"Tough being a dad, right?" Charles asked him and Lance nodded. Fernando smiled from the couch at them.

"These two are infinitely easier compared to Lando and Oscar." he said and then looked at Carlos. "Not to even mention you."

"Shut up." Carlos growled and stood up. Fernando smirked up at him, clearly amused by his reaction.

"I would love to know what Carlos was like as a child." Charles joined in and Carlos shot him an angry look. Charles furrowed his brows at him. "What? You never talk about that stuff..."

"Oh, he was a nightmare." Fernando said and earned himself an angry look, too. "There was nothing in the house he wouldn't break or steal or loose. And he would always rope Lando and Oscar into his plans."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Carlos tried to drown Fernando's voice out and covered Charles' ears with his hands.

"He was horrible. I don't know how I managed turn him around." Fernando continued and Carlos threw a loose teddy bear at his head.

"Okay, enough, you two." Lance jutted in, gathering his babies from Fernando before they got mixed into the fight as well. Fernando threw the teddy back at Carlos, missing him by just a centimeter. Lance scurried off with Lucía and Jayden, hiding behind Charles for protection. The two Spaniards kept throwing toys at each other until Carlos got a hold of something with hard edges and Charles finally interjected.

"Jesus christ!" he chuckled, a little scared, and grabbed the kid's book from Carlos' hands. The Spaniard looked at him disappointed, as if he had spoiled all the fun. "Enough."

"Hah, I win." Fernando peeked from behind the couch and Charles had to actually hold his man back from charging at him.

"This is what I get from coming to visit you." Carlos huffed, while Charles straightened his clothes. Fernando giggled from behind the couch and the whole room could hear Lance roll his eyes. The twins were not impressed by the whole scene at all and were actually looking a bit droopy.

"Baby nap time." Lance announced and shuffled out the living room, leaving Fernando alone with Carlos and Charles.

"Okay, lo siento." Fernando said and patted Carlos on the back. The younger Spaniard glared at him, but accepted the apology. One thing Fernando always taught his kids was, that they should always apologize, no matter what.

He then turned to Charles and covered the other side of his mouth with his hand as if to block Carlos from hearing what he was about to say. "I'll tell you everything about him later. Don't you worry, mi cielito."

"Stop flirting with him, papá." Carlos stuck his finger between Fernando's ribs and made him squeal. Charles laughed and Carlos grabbed him to pull him away from Fernando, who was rubbing his side in pain.

"Someone has to, you're hopeless." Fernando croaked and Charles giggled more, making Carlos turn beet red. The younger Spaniard wasn't exactly the most romantic guy, and Fernando had always found it inconceivable that he had pulled someone like Charles. Perfect, handsome, sweet, talkative Charles... and then there was his son. Perpetually grumpy and unsociable.

"No, I like him just the way he is." Charles said and pecked Carlos on the cheek, making him blush even more. Getting kissed in front of your dad must still be universally embarrassing, even if you're past 30.

"Uh-huh..." Fernando hummed and looked at them. They did make a pretty good-looking pair. Opposites attract, right? That's what he and Lance had as well.

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #charlos #carlos is the main character

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chiss-ticism · 5 months ago

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OC Deep Dive: Judith "Moody Judy" Margolis

🩸Brujah Antitribu. Pack Ductus. Convention of Thorns historian. Anarch infiltrator. Remover for the Black Hand. 🩸

I was tagged [three days ago now, lmao] by @kentuckycaverats. Tysm! 'twas very kind for you to include me :D

🎨Art masterfully drawn by @/crownedinmarigolds!! 🎨

💣 Judy's Main Post. 💥

what common/uncommon fear do they have?

Ghosts! - Camarilla elders? Manageable. - Lupines? Maybe not an easy fight, but manageable with sufficient enough preparation and cold bodies to put between you and them. - Antediluvians? When we get there. But ghosts? I find that the mental image of a battle-hardened, 'Know No Fear' 2x Death Cultist with a fear of ghosts brings me no small amount of joy 😌 "The fuck am I supposed to do against a Wraiths?" She sulks in the far flung recesses of my mind, malding about an explicable inability to punch or politic her way out of the problem.

do they have any pet peeves?

Brujah. The whole clan. Main clan, Antitribu. It hardly matters. Why? She despises the hot-headed, always-needs-to-be-in-charge, 'only I know the way forward'-ness of her broodmates. The Anarchs - helmed in no small part by arrogant ""philosopher kings"" who can't even agree on what it even means to be an Anarch beyond criticisms of the system as-is - are trying to play at the Jyhad two steps behind everyone else. The Antitribu are, by and large... how did Gehenna: Time And Judgement put it? "better suited to stabbing itself in the eye and setting itself on fire than... well, anything of actual value." Those seeking refuge within the gilded cage of the Camarilla aren't even worthy of a passing thought. You see, my friend, you simply have to follow the hot-headed death cultist who, none too dissimilar to an Evil Advisor™, humbly whispers in the ears of Barons and Anarch Councilmembers to get anything of value done! 😌

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

1.) A necklace infused with her sire's ashes. 2.) A three-ring binder full of rough drafts [speeches, dissertations on Cainite history, her attempts at learning other languages, etc.]. It only seems organized to her eye. 3.) A cardboard box overflowing with CDs from the late 90s to the early 2000s.

what do they notice first in a person?

How willing they are to underestimate their allies and opponents! She, in spite of genuinely enjoying the hallmarks of her aesthetic, also uses it as a litmus test for those who're unfamiliar with her positioning as a member of the highly vaunted [and/or feared, depending on who you are] Black Hand or even, simply, as a member of the Boogeyman that is the Sabbat. Dressing [and sometimes behaving] like Jesse Pinkman is not - in most situations - likely to command immediate respect. Do they presume her to be a rowdy neonate who is simply pushing her luck? Noted. Do they treat her with cautious apprehension? Curious...

on a scale of 1-10 how high is their pain tolerance?

I'd wager a solid 7-8, given: - She's dead. While only Ida - her Tzimisce Pack Priest - has completely deadened her nerves, being clinically dead has to count for something. - Black Hand training. - Black Hand training at the hand of Teresita "Godmother of the Damned", a Nosferatu Antitribu who claims residence in Mexico City. A relevant quote for you: "You call neonates and your Black Hand soliders "darling child" (niño querido) and similar endearments as you pinch cheeks, tidy their clothes, and crush the bones of anyone who fails you." [Mexico City by Night, p. 81] (Revised Edition sourcebook.)

do they go into fight or flight mode (or freeze or fawn) when under pressure?

Fight! I wish that I could attribute it to her being a Brujah but, no, she's always been like this. She's always been fond of biting people, too.

what animal represents them best?

A Pit Bull, I'd wager. Not Mr. Worldwide.👨‍🦲

how would a stranger likely describe them?

Knowledgeable. Arrogant. Malicious. Context - Obvious Predator [2 pt. Flaw, V20]: "Your innate Brujah rage always percolates below the surface no matter how hard you try to project an image of calm. Mortals find you intrinsically menacing, and instinctively fear you for the violence you promise to unleash."

do they have any hobbies?

Most of her time is spent tending to co-opting Anarchs or guiding her Pack, but when she has a moment to herself she prefers to spend it: - When the Sabbat has a High Holiday that involves re-enacting historical events or scenes from the Book of Nod, she loves to act as an advisor! - Learning languages. [albeit still in service to the Black Hand.] - Stockpiling of homemade explosives. - Refreshing herself on Cainite history. - Performing Pack Ritae with, well, her Pack. Those Lupines aren't going to dog-tag themselves! - She spends an inordinate amount of time at ""gentlemen's clubs."" 💃

#My OCs #Moody Judy Tag #If you would like to participate - PLEASE DO!!#And @ me when you do! I would like to read them.

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tobiasdrake · 4 months ago

Note

There’s a reason Digimon keeps going back to the Adventure well.

It’s because it’s the only series that’s ever been profitable.

As you're probably aware from looking at the original airing dates for the first few series, Digimon was supposed to be a yearly series in the vein of Super Sentai/Power Rangers, Kamen Rider and Pretty Cure etc…, hence why one series would air a week after the previous one ended, and why staff would start working on the next series partway through the current one (interviews with staff have confirmed that work for 02 began around the time the Vamdemon/Myotismon arc was beginning to air in Japan).

Unfortunately these plans would kind of fall apart the moment Adventure 02 ended.

You're probably well aware by now that Digimon Tamers is pretty well regarded amongst the western Digimon fanbase, unfortunately the series was not a success in Japan, quite the opposite. There was such a massive drop in viewership when the show was airing, that it’s been confirmed in interviews that the staff were constantly retooling the show and changing their initial plans to try and get the rating back to Adventure/Adventure 02 levels.

And even worse was the toyline, y’know the thing the anime is supposed to be an advertisement for, sales in Japan for it were so bad that it was cancelled before Tamers had even reached the halfway point.

Now there have been many reasons given for Tamers’ failure, several even brought up by the staff in interviews, it was a reboot set in a new continuity with little connecting it to the previous series, merchandise driven anime were starting to decline in popularity across the board - even Pokemon was affected, although it managed to pull itself out of it’s slump, the rise in popularity of live-action tokusatsu shows, the v-pet craze ending etc…

But a big one mentioned by the Japanese fanbase is that, in contrast with the English dub which, whilst not really changing the content that much, did alter the tone slightly so it came off as a lot more casual, the original version of Tamers is considered to have a very depressing and oppressive tone with very little comic relief and is not the fun to watch as a kid (hell apparently one European country that had a dub closer to the Japanese original gave the series a 18+ rating).

And it’s reputation hasn't really improved in Japan as shown by it’s Blu-Ray release in 2018, where despite heavy promotion from it’s head-writer Chiaki J. Konaka and also including with it an original CD Drama with the voice cast reprising their roles to act as a pilot for a potential sequel series, it made less than 30% of what the Blu-Rays of Digimon Adventure and Digimon Adventure 02 had made.

So part way through Tamers when they were preparing to work on the next Digimon series, the staff knew that it was likely the anime was not going to be able to continue sustaining itself like they wanted and that the next series could very well be the last. So they went into it determined to make it the best product as much as possible and to go in a more lighter tone in keeping with both Adventure animes, in the hope of getting the ratings to go back up to where they were pre-Tamers and continue Digimon as a yearly series or at the very least allow the anime part of the franchise to go out on a high note.

It didn’t really work, Digimon Frontier is considered the weakest of the four original Digimon series in both the Western and Japanese sides of the fanbase, rating continued to decline even worse than they had with Tamers and it’s toyline in Japan was also cancelled before the show had finished due to low sales, and Toei’s yearly anime summer fair which included Frontier tie-in short film bombed that year as well resulting in it’s permanent cancellation. And it’s Blu-Ray release made less than Tamers and so far Frontier is the last non-Adventure related series to see a Blu-Ray Release.

Whilst the first four anime had been going, a storyline had been playing out amongst the lore of the franchise in things like flavour text and booklets included with the v-pet toys, and after the anime had seemingly ended said storyline continued with the “X-Anti-body” in 2004, that included things like the Pendulum-X v-pet toy and the Digimon Chronicles booklet, culminating in the 2005 film Digimon X-Evolution that supposed to be the end of the overall Digimon story.

However despite the troubled production that had lead to X-Evolution going from a theatrical released movie to a made-for-tv film it was positively received and got good ratings, and the Pendulum-X v-pets sold well, so with that success it was decided that Digimon was still potentially profitable and so it would still be aloud to continue with a new anime project eventually announced.

This was the 2006-2007 anime Digimon Savers, which was aimed at capturing a slightly older (but still aimed primarily at children) audience with a more shonen-esque character designs and protagonists who were in their teens or adults rather than pre-teens like the previous protagonists.

Sadly Savers, despite being well received by those who watched it, was not the success that Bandai and Toei had hoped for, as it got worse ratings than even Frontier and its toy-line was also cancelled part way through the series due to low sales, and thus another series was not greenlit before it had ended. And whilst a Blu-Ray of the series was apparently supposed to be in development, it’s been years and there’s still no sign of it happening, probably due to the failure of Tamers and Frontier’s Blu-Rays, although admittedly it’s possible COVID could have delayed things, but nothings been said for sure.

Nevertheless Toei and Bandai would once again try and relaunch the anime franchise again in 2010 this time Digimon Xros Wars, which went back to targeting a younger audience with designs reminiscent of the first four series, and a more fast pace action oriented storytelling - drawing inspiration from the super robot genre.

Unfortunately again the series was unsuccessful, as it again got low ratings and its toyline was cancelled due to low sales, leaving most of the character’s introduced from the end of its first arc to the end of its third arc without toys, and a new series was not greenlit.

And whilst the series did get an extra 25 episodes - the Young Hunters Who Leapt Through Time arc - at the very last minute after the series had already concluded it’s main plot, it was an open secret - eventually confirmed by in interviews with the staff - that it had only been added as filler so Toei could keep the timeslot for the remainder of the year to air Saint Seiya Omega. Hence why that part of the series, despite introducing some new characters and concepts, was mostly just stand alone monster of the week episodes, because since they didn’t have any merchandise to advertise at that point the creators were essentially told to just do whatever they wanted as long as they made it fun for any kids still watching.

This backfired a bit when the creators randomly decided to include silhouettes of the previous main protagonists of the prior seasons in one episode, which lead to the characters actually being introduced in the last 3 episodes of the season as a kind of mini-multiversal crossover with no foreshadowing, and Toei much to the head-writer's confusion decided to market that arc as if the crossover was the main plot of the arc and would be apart of every episode, which led to disappoint amongst fans - especially Western fans - when it turned out to be only those last few episodes and the returning characters barely did anything.

Needless to say this once again did not lead to a new series being greenlit.

Then a couple years laters they through up their hands and said fuck it, and went back to the original continuity with the Digimon Adventure Tri movies, as a way of both celebrating the 15th anniversary of the original Digimon Adventure and in the hope would draw back all the fans who’d left the moment Digimon Adventure 02 ended.

And in spite of the fact that the movies were mixed to negatively received - especially in Japan where the fans treat the lore behind the Adventures series incredibly seriously - it worked, the fans did return, the DVDs and other merchandise sold well, and it got the franchise back somewhat in the public eye on both sides of the globe, and lead to Digimon receiving new products yearly that is still going to this day.

Unfortunately this success had one drawback, it got most of the now-adult fans back because that’s who it was aimed at, but it didn’t do anything to get children - y’know the franchise’s target demographic invested, which is what lead to the next three anime series.

The next Digimon series in 2016 to 2017 was Digimon Universe: Appli Monsters which ironically despite the title - aside from one episode- didn’t feature any actual Digimon in the traditional sense instead focusing on new creatures called Appmon that were based on smartphone apps, and focused on both how the internet is used and affects people in the 21st century and explored things related to artificial intelligence, whilst still having the tradition structure and storytelling of a Digimon series.

It was also supervised by Hiromi Seki who produced the first four Digimon series and who would later be brought back to supervise Last Evolution Kizuna and Adventure 02: The Beginning to make sure those movies stuck to established characterisation, themes, continuity and lore - some Tri was accused by Japanese fans of failing to do so (especially since interviews with Tri’s head-writer had that he was not all that familiar with Adventure and Adventure 02. And according to interviews with other people who worked on Tri he would actually reject advice from other staff members who were familiar with Adventure when they offered suggestions or critiques regarding sticking to/contradicting pre-established continuity and lore, in favour of just telling the other staff members to make the series feel more darker and more mature without actually clarifying what that meant).

Appmon was generally well received by both critics and fans of the franchise, with many feeling it felt more like a true Digimon series than Tri did.

Unfortunately despite this it still did terrible in the ratings department and whilst it did become the first Digimon series to not have its toyline cancelled since Adventure 02, possibly because Bandai marketed it as if it were a brand new IP despite staff at Toei making it clear it effectively just a new Digimon series rather than a spin-off like many had assumed, it’s sales were considered disappointing as it barely made much more than Tamers - y’know series that had its toyline cancelled due to low sales - did throughout its run.

Which is why, until last year, Bandai refused to acknowledge it in relation to Digimon in any way, whereas Toei was only too happy to include Appmon in marketing that emphasized every Digimon anime series.

It also lead to their plans for “Digimon Universe” to become the brand name for the franchise (or maybe at least anime side?) moving forward - much like it was almost the case for “Digimon Adventure” (Digimon Adventure Neo was the working title for Digimon Tamers even after it had been confirmed that it wouldn’t be in the same continuity as Adventure and 02) - to be abandoned with Appmon.

Also, not counting the last arc of Digimon Xros Wars, Appmon became the first Digimon series not to receive an English dub, although Toei did want one, but they wouldn’t sign off on anything unless it came with a massive toy deal and the combination of merchandise driven kid’s anime not being as popular in the US in the New Tens as it was in the early 2000’s and prior Digimon series not having done well on tv in the US led to no company agreeing to their offer, and Toei just kinda sat on the series for 3 years before giving the US a subtitled version straight to streaming. It did get a couple of foreign dubs in places like France, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Portugal, South Korea, Taiwan and Thailand, but unfortunately it completely bombed in both France and Portugal leading to plans to expand it to the rest of Europe to be cancelled.

The next anime after that was the reboot of Digimon Adventure in 2020 (something which had been considered for the 15th anniversary of the 1999 version of Adventure before they went with Tri), which per press releases was aimed at both a new kid audience and their parents who would have grown up with the original Digimon Adventure.

This series drew influence from Toei’s more famous and popular worldwide franchise Dragonball and focused a lot more on action than character development, with the goal of the series was to show off battle scenes, make sure things come across as cool, and showcase as many Digimon as possible, whilst still reflecting the world in 2020 as much as the OG Adventure did for 1999 (the latter of which became a moot point with COVID, which not only interfered with production of the series resulting in Episode 3 coming out in April 19th and the Episode 4 in June 28th, but made the July 2020 setting of the first few episodes completely different from the actual July 2020, to the point where I’m surprised the English dub released in 2020 kept the 2020 setting rather than changing it to a non-specific “present day” so viewers watching the dub exclusively weren’t weirded out by the fact that the characters aren’t following COVID distancing protocols or masking-up).

And in a first for Digimon airing on tv since 02 ended it was a success, it good ratings to the point where episodes were ranking higher than Toei’s other juggernaut of a series Pretty Cure, and the toyline sold well both in Japan and the US - despite having merchandise arrived years before an official dub was even announced. And it’s success led to it not only getting both a DVD and a Blu-Ray release, but also a new Digimon series being greenlit before it had finished airing that would air a week after the final episode - something that hadn’t happened since Frontier ended.

Unfortunately this success came with an asterisk, because whilst it was successful it was only with the periphery demographic as Toei officially announced in May 2021 that the series had “struggled to acquire new audiences of children” which they blamed on the COVID pandemic, which was made worse in that a survey conducted in September/October 2020 had shown that the vast majority of Digimon fans had been fans for about 16 years or more, meaning that the franchise has not been growing an audience. Which probably explains decisions made regarding the next Digimon series.

Speaking of which, that series was Digimon Ghost Game, which was a horror-themed series - in the Scooby Doo sense of the term - and interviews with the head-writer had confirmed that whilst the idea of doing a series aimed at older audiences had been on the table, it was decided to continue making a series aimed at children. Which resulted in them going all in on that aspect and in a first for Digimon completely abandoned the serialised series structure that prior series had stuck to in favour of maintaining an episodic monster-of-the-week format for almost the entirety of its 67 episode run.

The head-writer had even described the reason for this is that in the current climate it’s a lot harder to make serialised shows for kids and teenagers because a lot of kids are watching Youtube videos and Tiktok and jumping off after a minute or two if they get bored and find it hard to watch longer stories. Also, kids might skip a show if they miss the beginning of it, so they wanted it so kids could start watching from any episode and not need to catch up on any other episodes.

Sadly this gamble didn’t pay off as not only did the series return to the pre-Adventure 2020/post Adventure 02 mediocre ratings, but the series had surprisingly little merchandise out when it was airing - possibly due to the still high demand for Adventure 2020 stuff - with some of it coming out after the series had concluded, a fan who somehow became a shareholder had confirmed last year that the series had been deemed not successful enough to receive a Blu-Ray release, and to this day a new anime series has not been announced.

And whilst an English dub had been announced a while back, it had also been described as a “low-budget dub” that was specifically looking for LA based actors, which most people aren’t sure what that means, but some suspect it might just be one of those low quality English dubs that only air in countries like China as a way to teach people English.

Several months after Ghost Game ended, staff from either Toei and/or Bandai have expressed frustration about not being able to reach a child audience and don’t know what the solution, later the Digimon Partners website just straight-up said that after over 20 years of being unable to grow a new audience they decided to give up on that goal and that all future Digimon projects for the foreseeable future will now be focused on satisfying the existing audience they already have.

This is the card game has gotten the most focus over the past few years, as that’s what currently keeping the franchise afloat and not the anime, and why several new serialised webnovels and web-manga unconnected to the various anime have gotten English translations, because North America is where the franchise is currently making the most money.

All they might be trying to walk this statement back a bit, as last year they announced they wanted to unify the brand. Which some fans have taken to mean they want the franchise to just have one single continuity, but actually looking in to the announcement it’s more they want to focus on marketing each individual series as part of the whole Digimon franchise, rather than just a series of fragmented disconnected works that just happen to be part of the same franchise. They want something where each series is unique and individualized but still recognisable as part of the same thing, and will have fans of the whole thing rather than just one particular series only… think like with Power Rangers/Super Sentai or Kamen Rider. Which is an issue they’ve seen in the past where they’ve seen a lot of people who are fans of Adventure, fans of Tamers, fans of Frontier etc… but not many who are fans of Digimon as a whole.

This is not the first time they’ve made an attempt to unify the brand and make it feel more cohesive and it’s not certain what that entails or whether or not they’ll have any more success this time. But that’s where we are right now.

...so it sounds like a lot of people had the "I'm here for my favorite characters, not for the concept of Digimon" problem that I had as a kid. They tried to make Digimon into a universal platform that many kinds of stories featuring many kinds of characters interpreted in whatever way a given creator wanted could be told, and that failed to create a sense of brand cohesion? Is what I'm getting out of this?

Seems like the series has had a much more tumultuous history than I ever realized.

#digimon

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theorphicangel · 2 years ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐛𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

author’s note: I keep getting gojo brainrot on my feed and it’s making me absolutely sick so I must write to heal

cw: a little nsfw, 18+, oral sex (f.receiving), fem! Reader, praise,

- I’d like to start off by saying…the most obvious which is that he’s annoying

- you have an essay due tmr?

- you are getting absolutely no peace.

you need to go the libarary to study?

- okay, he’s by your side with his cheap supposed “noise cancelling” headphones but he’s misunderstood that they’re not noise cancelling for everyone else because you can still hear the song lyrics

- “baby…could you turn that down?”

- “what? no, it’s noise cancellation you can’t hear anything.”

- “but—” he slides them back on before you finish

- BUT however when you do need space to revise for an exam or prepare your project he will give it to you undoubtedly

- but that also means he’ll burst into your room every 30 mins or so to make sure you’re stacked up on snacks or that you’re hydrated

- “did you drink water? I heard your brain needs water like all the time so you need to drink water ‘Kay?”

- “Satoru, you’ve brought me 5 water bottles”

- but that’s not to say he won’t help with your revision, in fact he’ll make sure you’ll be able to recall info

- and boy does he have methods

- “what was the answer to that one again?”

- you moan lightly in response your, thighs trembling with his two fingers deep inside you, and at your failure to provide an answer he removes them,

- you whine at the emptiness and he tuts shaking his head, “c’mon you know this one.”

- shutting your eyes, you blurt out the answer

- “that’s my girl, you’ll pass this exam in no time, one more question and then I’ll let you cum.”

- in between your cries and mewls, he praises you for what you’ve managed to recall with him between your legs

- and yes, as per the image at the top he will give you a cd 💀

- “Satoru…what is this?”

- he deadpans you, “can you not read it? It says-“

- “no, I know what it says dumbass, I mean why?”

- “can a guy not do something nice for you?” and then he has attitude🙄 “I’ll take it back then.”

- you’re obviously quick to reject that notion for sureeeee

- if you’re an English major he will not leave your books alone

- “what is this? Shakespeare?”

- he’ll open it up and recite a random page in the most god awful British accent stumbling over the words

“That doesn’t even make sense, why is this guy famous?”

- however, maybe he’d get into pride and prejudice…slowly

- it probably take him a long time to read each page, trying to make sense of who is who

- “so nobody likes mr darcy already? Damn, he didn’t even do anything.”

- but when you show him the movie version he would so swoon over it immediately

- he would play it for one of your movie nights calling it your favourite when it’s actually a secret favourite of his

- and he be quoting everything mr darcy says

- he makes fun of your handwriting constantly if you annotate your books/ or write down notes OR if he missed a lecture and obviously copies up from you

- “is that supposed to be an a?”

- “it’s an e!”

- “ s’not my fault it looks so similar!”

I shall make a part two if I can think of more annoying college!bf gojo🧍🏿‍♂️

reblogs are much appreciated 🫶

#very rushed and random #angel writes #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru headcanons

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wildbluesorbit · 1 year ago

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London: Holiday Prelude || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: Howdy! Here to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with twist on the London menu: A TIME JUMP! This is how I envision the first meeting between Jake and the reader unraveled. This one is very fluff (which is a bit off brand for this series) and is my gift to all readers who have remained loyal amongst the endless angst. I'm aware, holiday editions are normally posted before the holidays, but I have chronically delayed holiday spirit that doesn’t spark until about a week before Christmas which is when I started this. My holidays got a bit more hectic than I expected so I didn’t finish till just now, but I figured I’d pos. Also, know that my particular style of writing is shaped by an editing process of which requires time I did not have, so baby this is ROUGH. Anyways, I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think.

Summary || Before the storm, there was a calm. Your first interaction with Jake is less than ideal, but you give him a redeeming chance only to spark something more.

Content Warnings || holiday [stress], workload stress, slight verbal aggression, holiday party setting, depictions of affectionate displays

Word Count || 6.6k

– December 24th, London, UK –

Your arduous typing is disrupted by the groan of your office door as it’s hesitantly eased open. You rigorously resume your work, not even averting your eyes to make note of who has disturbed you. You already know it's your colleague. You know they have trouble for you. And you know it's a problem you don’t currently have the attention span nor time for.

Eyes still pinned to the numbers on your computer screen, you address the damsel in distress dawdling in the doorway behind you, “Is it urgent? I’m on a deadline.”

“Um- There’s a customer out here who I have tried my best to help with the knowledge I have,” she remorsefully squeaks.

You mellow your tone as you can hear desperation shrouding her every word, “Tell them I’m unavailable.”

“I did- He insisted he speak to some form of management,” she huffs exasperatedly.

You come to a stopping point in your numbers game and begrudgingly pry your hands from your keyboard. You spring from your chair and propel yourself through the doorway, already eager to crawl back to the stillness of your office. Your footsteps echo against the hallway of dark offices and storage rooms in a unison stride to your coworker a pace behind you; two valiant knights on their quest to the front of the store.

Preparing yourself for battle, you dig for your finest customer service armor as it's buried beneath all the enervating adversities and blows of running the shop; a duty you normally carry so effortlessly and gracefully, but this year you had been the only manager who volunteered to work the holiday week. Your workload alone is enough to spook the average person, but the extra weight you foolishly decided to take on this year is a different beast. You have half a heart to gift yourself hair dye this Christmas as you’re already convinced the New Year would find you prematurely gray.

“Alright, let’s see the prick who is harassing my-,” your finishing thought never arrives as you swing the door open to reveal the store.

Any and all resentment is momentarily tamed by the endless sight of musical paraphernalia. Every last inch of the walls are shrine to the greats; posters, pins, buttons, stickers, clothing, books, CDs, tapes, cassettes, and of course aisles and aisles of record vinyl LPs; all seem to celebrate your great escape from the confinement of your office.

Your eyes adjust to the warm lighting that coats everything and everyone bustling about isles, faces beaming with joy as they discover new treasures to call their own; treasures you ordered and stocked the shelves with yourself.

You take a deep inhale of the healing sight in front of you. You never tire of walking through this door after a long day; a portal to your favorite realm. Your spirit beams as you recognize the classic rock sonic of The Dire Straits pouring through the speakers at way too loud a volume. You find it almost impossible to be upset within these walls. Almost.

Though you want nothing more than to idly wander around the store, you redirect your focus to the task at hand; eyes scouring the floor for the customer that so desperately needs your attention. Within an instant, you undoubtedly deem a man within your gaze responsible for your unnecessary ordeals; no guidance from your coworker is required to know exactly who summoned you from your hideaway.

He is an ornate scene; one that confiscates and pleases your attention all at once. He stands, bare chest proud and puffed, fingers fidgeting with the facial hair that roofs his protruding pout as he devoutly scans through titles of the nearby books. His narrow shoulders are cloaked by long chestnut waves that frame delicate facial features and a prominent nose. He’s rather small in stature, yet strong in physique.

The pretty man is bewitching in the way he seems to have just hopped out of some antecedent reality; a walking, talking antique. Doused in all black, he wears a blazer and waistcoat with nothing underneath to properly clothe his tan skin except chunky chains weighed down by a ridiculous amount of pendants; all silver to match his oversized hoop earrings, reflectively gleaming as he saunters through trespassing sunlight. His torso is paired with black pleated trousers and seasoned black boots. This man looks as if he woke up and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be a pirate or a rockstar.

“You know, Halloween was almost two months ago,” you heedlessly blurt as soon as his golden brown eyes collect yours.

“Real original,” the customer retorts with a smirk and a slight shake of his head, “definitely never heard that one before.”

His American accent nearly startles you; his features certainly tell an origin story of Central Europe, yet his phrasing is not harsh enough to miss the hint of something not quite American in his raspy tone.

You quickly steer away from your cheeky dig and towards a more professional rapport.

“What can I help you with today Mr.?”

“Jacob Kiszka,” he extends his hand to shake yours, “but you can call me Jake.”

The Jake Kiszka. You have definitely heard his name before. A guitarist whose discography is infamously compared to and even deemed gross appropriation of classic rock legends; and whose romantic track record has an even worse stench.

You prematurely take the sincere offer of his hand before weakly falling back to your satirical ways, “Wow, lucky me- I’ve only heard stories of The Illustrious Jake Kiszka.”

He is not oblivious to your sarcasm but decides to take the cocky route anyway, “Oh- A fan, huh? Glad to know my reputation precedes me.”

“I never said they were good stories,” your hand repels from the guitarist’s calloused grasp and attaches to your hip, “but what brings you to my store?”

“This is the only place in town not playing Christmas music,” his eyes flit around the store trying to commit every last detail to memory as if his knowledge might be tested later and questions you with an intimacy he hasn’t yet earned, “So this is your kingdom, huh?”

“I don’t own it, just run it, but yes- this place is my baby and I’m its sales manager,” you briefly answer out of the scarce supply of decorum you currently possess and efficiently reroute to the reason for his visit, “but I doubt you came all this way just to escape the holiday spirit.”

“Well, I am currently in town and in dire need of a last-minute Christmas gift, and you came highly recommended as far as rare LP sets go,” his features stretch into a ponderous tightlipped smile.

The musician either isn’t receiving your assertion of pace or blatantly holds no regard for it as he digresses once again.

You aren’t certain whether his narrative is spoken to you, himself, or some unseen force, “But this really is some marvelous little store you run here. I have to admit I'm a bit envious. Somedays, I swear I would trade it all in for a simple quiet life like this.”

Simple? Quiet? Who the hell does this man think he is to come in the day before Christmas and casually spend your time and patience, only to then reduce your entire world to simple and quiet?!

Your fists discreetly curl behind the secrecy of your back as you scrupulously monitor your highly explosive tone, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Kiszka, but maybe we can hurry this along. I have lots of work in my simple quiet life to return to.”

Instantly, his entire physique cowers to a posture of mortification and regret. If your composure hadn’t already been so far spent, you might have even felt a strand of empathy or reprieve for him.

His face takes on a shameful shade of pink as fragments of an apology trip over one another, “No- No- That’s definitely not what I meant- Of course, the work you do here is very important. The responsibility of granting access-”

You wave him off, bestowing him clemency in hopes of ending this interaction as fast as possible, “It’s fine, but I really do have lots of work to return to, so just follow me.”

You hastily string him to the glass cases in the back of the store, a stream of clicking and clacking trails behind you with every heavy-footed step of his boots. His footsteps gradually sound less and less, his pace a relaxed rhythm compared to yours. You impatiently arrive at your destination of high-valued items and turn to see he is only leisurely tracing your path, still gazing about the store as if he is in an art gallery.

You inhale. You’ve dealt with worse. Today would not be the day you lose your patience with a customer.

Once he finally rejoins you at the display case, you begin the tour of each LP, explaining its contents, history, value, rarity, and your favorite details about it. Showmanly, you set a scene of necessity for each set as to speed his decision process along by targeting his obvious lack of impulse control.

You’re about done appraising almost five sets when a lack of opinions, theories, and questions registers from his silence. You transfer your vision to learn your audience had not at all been concentrating on your dissertation, those amber eyes studying you right back; eyes reflecting not a strand of cognizance for your vain words, pronouncing your breath wasted.

Your abrupt eye contact seems to burst his trance, clearly not expecting you to break from your sale.

“Are you hearing a word I’m saying or-,” you fuss, condemning any remaining attempts at professionalism.

His features reveal comprehension, your confrontation certainly registers but his ample lips only vacillate in a dumbfounded silence.

You flatly attempt to jumpstart his verbal reflexes, “Mr. Kiszka?”

Pressure-buildup from every imprisoned word rattling around his head with no escape, erupts all at once, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I heard you- It's just- When I asked for help today- I didn’t expect someone so-”

A brittle tone emerges before you can even take the time to contemplate what he is trying to articulate, “Young? A woman? A different stigma that probably has nothing to do with my knowledge of music or ability to manage a business?”

“No it's not that- It's just- you-,” he hesitates to catch the breath he forgot to take and decidedly abandons his current thought to expedite his next, as if they might trample over each other if he doesn’t, “This is very inappropriate but I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth and I would appreciate it if you let me make it up to you over drinks tonight. Also, please call me Jake.”

His unanticipated proposition hitches your breath and widens your eyes, “You’re right, that is very inappropriate.”

He quickly shrinks yet doesn’t withdraw his offer, “My brothers will be there too if that makes you feel a bit better, but your expertise so far fascinates me, and I would love to discuss more with you.”

Asking you out. After insults. After disrespect. After no regard for your time-poor schedule. He is asking you out.

You take it back. You have not dealt with worse. This is definitely the worst.

Panic and indignation concoct a bitter climb in pitch, “Unfortunately, Mr. Kiszka, there’s still so much that requires my attention before the year’s end. I’m as busy as someone with a simple and quiet life can possibly be. That leaves no time for idle pints with random guys in pubs. So will you be purchasing anything today?”

“No- of course- you’re right- I’m terribly sorry- I do need to get something,” his attention finally converts to the vinyl with an oncoming frown, “but nothing here stands out to me. I know you certainly don’t owe me any favors but is there any way you can show me anything else? You know- the good stuff?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you blatantly feed him a white lie, “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to. However, the thought of sharing another second with this infuriating stranger threatens to ignite fire to your dwindling composure. So, you tuck away all opportunities that would admit him to take any step that isn’t towards the door.

He drives his agenda one last time, “You know? The treasures that never see the shelf? Surely, you have a secret stash. Every great store has one.”

“I guess we’re just not that great of a store then,” the shit-eating grin that smears across your face wards off any other inquiries he might probe for, “I can assure you this is the best we have. Maybe next time, do all your Christmas shopping before Christmas Eve.”

You are immediately pricked by a pang of guilt. Even you can admit you are being impudently cruel; for which you expect at least a return of assailment. Yet it never arrives.

Instead, his eyebrows turned upwards just above a sheepish smirk and a diffident man takes the place of the obnoxiously charismatic rockstar once before you. He just might genuinely grieve the score of your transaction. As if he knows something you don’t. As if he knows in some other time or place this narrative was supposed to take a different course and he is now mourning a great failure.

“Okay- well, I can take a hint,” he meekly forfeits, “I apologize for wasting your time. Thank you so much for your help.”

You can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any response, lost somewhere amongst the spate of regret that you might have misjudged him based on presumptions. Your mouth runs dry and you’re only able to blankly stare back at him.

In your silence, he impulsively shoves his hand into his coat pocket and shimmies out some small notebook. He flips through pages and pages of scattered notes and highlights and even some light sketches before he finds the first blank sheet. He materializes a pen from the same pocket that had been sheltering the notebook and quickly scribbles before tearing out the page, folding it in quarters, and gifting it to you.

You’re not sure why, but you find your hand an open landing for the paper. Unconvincingly, you reassure yourself it's because you know little resistance will only usher him out of your store sooner.

As soon as he successfully rids himself of the note, you witness a bashful movement emerge upon his face in what you swear is the biggest and prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You aren’t allotted time to admire or commit it to memory as its life spans less than a second, quickly shrinking till it's gone.

He bids you a rushed, “Take care, Merry Christmas,” before he turns on his heels and rapidly weaves his way through the isles till he disappears past the glass doors without so much as another word or last glance.

Your eyes gravitate back towards the paper in your hand. You inspect the folded thing before you decide reading its contents would hold no worthwhile benefit and absentmindedly place it in your own pocket.

— December 26th —

You mentally file through your checklist: The doors are locked, the drawer counted, and the lights turned off. Your colleague took care of the floor prep portion of closing duties before she left; you stayed way too late to finish your end-of-year reports. But you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you are forgetting something.

Your phone! You realize as you pat down your pockets you don’t have your phone.

You race to your office through the dark void store to see your abandoned device sitting on top of your desk. As you grab your phone, the little forsaken folded paper you forgot you had placed on the work area earns your attention. Whether you set it aside for two days in a veto or for safekeeping is beyond you.

Now having endured your irrationally aggravated haze that always shrouds end-of-year stress, the only thing that remains is a flare of burning curiosity.

You resist your own inquisitive demands and desert the mysterious note once more to hesitate towards the door, each step becoming more burdensome the further you trudge from your office.

Did you misconstrue him, seduced by mere whispers floating in the wind? Did you indignantly vilify him deceived by your own occupational duress? Despite being verbally clumsy, he was endearingly unconventional, and he clearly carried some remorse for your interaction.

You’re even baffled by the rumination this small piece of paper has conjured. Customers come and go, but you can’t seem to justify why he has become an unwelcome stowaway in your mind.

For the past two days, you’ve been choking on the bitter taste of rueful pining that you can’t seem to wash down. Suffocating under abrasive waves of what might have been if you’d only had patience to spare, till you can no longer deny your craving.

You find your limbs and retrace the progress you’ve just made. You restively unfold the note to read confirmation of the exact information you imagined was inked into the little white sheet.

Please, please, call me Jake. And pretty please reconsider those drinks. (248)434.5508

You are alarmed by the giggle that sounds past your giddy smile, penetrating the silence of an otherwise lifeless building. Your chest is ambushed by an aching weight as your sight darts across the hall to the storage housing the “secret stash” as he put it.

You suddenly have no idea why you’d been so hard on him; just that you’re now certain of your looming resentment. You’re not sure if it’s this reasoning, or the way he looked stunned by you, or even the shape of his giant childish smile you can’t seem to recall, that drives your thumb as you dubiously dial the phone number on the paper.

Each ring of another number entered descends you further on your fall from professionalism and floods your head with panic. As soon as the dial tone begins to ring against your ear you’re immersed into a fit of denial, convincing yourself his answer is an unlikely outcome; despite this being his phone number and you are, in fact, calling it.

“Hello,” his vaguely familiar rasp becomes one of undeniable recognition.

Neglecting to even consider what you might say if he did answer, you awkwardly blurt, “Hey, Mr.- Jake-,” it occurs to you that you never properly introduced yourself, “It’s the girl with a simple quiet life.”

You possess no control over your hand as it impulsively smacks against your forehead amid your poor choice of words.

You’re mortified he might have heard your reflex as he giggles through the line, “Hey, pretty girl. I was hoping you might call.”

— December 31st —

You aimlessly pace about the bathroom, your platform loafers suctioning with every sticky step on the tile. You survey the sting of your angry nail plates, red and visible from an anxious nail-biting fit.

A jiggle of the doorknob and a harsh knock on the door interrupts your examination.

“Just a minute,” your voice shakes trying to overpower the blaring music.

You possess no concept of how long you’ve been hiding out from the party just beyond the bathroom door. You had been wading through a sea of strangers for almost an hour looking for Jake before you finally became overwhelmed, retreating to a random bedroom and locking yourself inside its bathroom. You’re beginning to question Jake’s attendance at the very party he invited you to.

Another bang at the door.

You squeak in panic, “One second!”

You run your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them as you shuffle over to the mirror to perform a last-second evaluation. You straighten the collar of your little black button-down dress and readjust your pantyhose so the hem isn’t visible from your dress’s high-thigh split. You quickly retrieve your wine-red lipstick to featherly dap it over your lips in reapplication and sloppily attempt to recoil any broken curls before you're startled by another thud on the door.

You growl as you stomp over to the entryway, “Who the fuck?! I said hold-”

You swing the door open to gather those wide honey eyes framed by pretty chestnut waves.

The weight lifted from your chest is quickly chased by the embarrassment of your reaction, “Jake?!”

The both of you, relieved to see the other, spill your words out in unison, “Where have you been? I was looking for you!”

You aren’t sure whether the uncontrollable giggle you let out is induced by amusement or nerves. Jake only gives you a peculiar smirk while scanning you up and down.

He slightly tilts his head and tries to interrogate you through a chuckle, “How long have you been hiding in here?”

You’re only able to bat your eyes at him, clueless as to how to save yourself. The way he reads the situation with such accuracy makes you question whether you have the words “socially celibate” written on your forehead; which isn’t true about you at all. You are usually a social butterfly but something about Jake makes you want to gasp for air.

“I’m not hiding,” you blurt the lie straight through your teeth.

“It's blatantly obvious you're hiding,” he playfully rolls his eyes and leans against the doorway, listing the factors that clue him in, “this is not the most accessible bathroom. There’s a bit of wandering you have to do in order to end up here.”

You attempt to redirect his heat back on him, “Well, what are you doing in here?”

His brows draw together in confusion, “You mean…in my bedroom?”

If your face wasn’t beaming pink before it certainly is now.

That night on the phone he had apologized profusely. After you reciprocated the remorse, he insisted on making up for the misunderstanding in person and invited you to a New Year’s Eve party. You spent the hours of that night learning bits and pieces about each other over the phone, yet not once did he make you aware it was his party.

“I mean you invited me, but you failed to mention you own the place,” you shake your head and light-heartedly chide.

There’s a lot of attention that comes with being the host; attention you couldn’t compete with being that you have known Jake for all of five minutes. You have half a mind to make up some excuse to escape now and be done with this.

Jake’s words soothe your storming thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re here and I found you. It's almost midnight and I was starting to think you flaked.”

From where your abrupt banter appears you’re not certain, just that you’re pleased with its arrival, “Wow, all these guests and those pretty eyes were searching for little old me? I’m flattered.”

“I was only concerned you might be hiding in a bathroom somewhere,” he teases back.

You roll your eyes and exit the bathroom. Only now do your inhibitions hush, admitting you to espy Jake dressed essentially in the same ensemble as your first meeting, the sore difference being the color palette. However, this single change is not one of subtlety, as you discover navy blue is certainly Jake’s color.

Jake instructs you to reenter the party and he’ll come find you in a few before disappearing into his own bathroom.

You almost scoff out loud. There is no way you are subjecting yourself back to that lion's den alone. You instead idle about his room.

You presume this bedroom is the master due to its excessive space and height. Two walls of a deep timber green meet one of exposed cobblestone, where the head of the bed is positioned, and another wall that is made completely of bookshelves. Mounted on these walls are frames of various historic maps and sketches and what you assume to be sailing routes. The decor is accented by espresso wooden floors and leather furniture; everything within your line of sight could certainly tell stories of a life dating well before your own.

You wonder how it hadn’t occurred to you before, this room might belong to him; Jake is almost the room personified in its rustic aesthetic.

You saunter over to the wall of books, extending your reach to them. The pads of your fingers ridge against the embroidered spines of various vintage books as you skim through their titles; from which you determine the wall displays are most likely of a piratical lore.

As you scale the bookshelf you run into a bar cart. Surely, he won’t miss a sip of liquor as much as you’re in need of one. You grab a cocktail glass from its rack and start with an easy pour of sparkling water. You aren’t sure which liquor to choose as they are all top shelf but land on tequila, mixing in an extra shot to take off the edge. You dress your drink with the squeeze of a lime and drop it in with a plop of ice, the residual juice left on your fingers begins to sting at your bitten fingernails. You take a moment to admire the symphony of each bubble fizzing its way to the top while ice chimes against your glass; the mere song of a tequila soda already easing your nerves.

As you sip on your elixir and further snoop, you notice there are not many pictures in the room. The few you do find tell the story of four siblings. Although, you struggle to pick Jake out amongst the bunch, having it narrowed down between two in every photo.

A whisper from somewhere just beyond your shoulder shatters your sleuthing trance, “Nosy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your drink nearly escapes your glass from the jolt his ambush sends through you.

He further teases you, “Ah, now you’re going to spill stolen liquor on my floors too?”

“It’s not stolen if you owe me a drink, sir,” you quip, referring to his offer of your first encounter.

He playfully reclaims your drink from you while declaring, “Let’s see how good of a cocktail you can mix-,” he takes a swig and speaks through a stifled cough, “whoa, bit stiff there! I suppose you may just be able to keep up with me.”

You are on the verge of investigating the family pictures when his phone rings. He frowns, yet still retrieves the device from his pocket to read the notification. However, his eyes break from their summon within a second, elated to receive yours once again.

Jake almost pounces on you, giddy to usher you back to the party, “Come on, I want to introduce you to some people!”

You tail him down the hall to the main part of the house until you reach the outskirts of crowd congestion. He shifts his lead to your side, his arm still extended to precede you, parting the way through traffic.

Parading through the guests, almost everyone attempts to greet their beloved host, stepping in front of or trying to walk between you.

You feel Jake’s broad hand lightly rest against the small of your back in an attempt to stay tethered, your skin waking to the sudden warmth and weight of his touch.

As you travel deeper into the heart of the crowd, it only multiplies in its density. Jake's fingers delicately travel from your back, over your hip, and wrap into your waist. He tugs you into his side, practically walking hip to hip; a measure taken to make certain you remain by his side.

Ordinarily, touch from any stranger is an unbearable concept you desperately flee from, but Jake’s hands are ones you’ve never known. He grabs you like he is certain your skin is his to touch. Simultaneously, it's assertive and amenable and affectionate. It grants status in a house full of strangers. You know you’ll only grieve its absence. Yet, you fear how you already crave more.

Your buffer’s escort sees you into the kitchen and immediately draws towards a group of three men: two of a tall lean stature and the other petite like Jake. He walks before you and seizes their attention from whatever concentration previously held it.

You shadow Jake, shifting behind him so there is as little space as possible without physically touching him; weary of your new appetite.

Even inches away from the men’s huddle, you can barely hear over the roar of the overcrowded house and the blaring music; your only indication of Jake speaking is the wave of his hands and the three boys’ responding laughter.

You lean as an attempt to hear their conversation when someone stumbles past you, knocking you straight into Jake’s backside and sending him into a light stumble.

Like some bashful toddler hiding from scary stranger danger, you stand straight and peek over Jake’s shoulder to see three wide-eyed men gaping at you. Jake loops his hand around your arm and casts you dead front and center as if you are a surprise gift he’d been concealing behind his back this whole time.

He lightly rests his hands on your shoulders and leans towards your ear, you gauge he’s close not by sight, but by the warm sensation of his words tickling your skin, “These are my brothers,” then reverts his attention to the other men, “guys, this is who I was telling you about.”

You formally introduce yourself and one by one they do the same: Sam, whom you recognize from the pictures and assume is related to Jake, Danny, whom you’ve never seen before but seems to possess the same familial chemistry, and finally Josh, who you now identify as the other face you couldn’t differentiate from Jake’s in the photos; you know they must be brothers.

You turn to confirm your suspicions with Jake and find he is no longer behind you. Eyes apprehensively detailing the scene, you scour till you recover him at the bar topping off your drink. You know he means well but the last thing you want is to be stranded.

As if he can access your thought flow, the man who earlier introduced himself as Josh is standing next to you now and gingerly places his fingers on your bicep to reassure you, “Don’t worry, you're in good hands.”

As your insecurity is driven away, curiosity remains, “So, what has Jake told you exactly?”

“Well- really, only that he came into your store and bugged the shit out of you-,” across from you, a slightly tipsy and loose-lipped Sam is silenced by Josh nudging him, “ow?!”

“He told us that you hold an interesting perspective and a vast knowledge in the world of music,” Josh earns the title of damage control, “in addition to your immunity to his charms.”

When Josh laughs, it is a grand thing, his whole body participating in his colossal giddy smile. You can’t help but receive the glee he is emitting.

Only now does it occur to you, that pretty smile has graced you once before. It's the same one Jake wore for a mere second, of which the imageless memory has been bugging you for a week. Their wide smile seems to exist in exactly the same shape yet live in different lights: Josh’s a bit more generous and Jake’s a bit more significant.

It isn’t until now that you’re able to delineate all the same features about their face, noting now that they aren’t similarities at all but replicas. Only now can you see they’re twins.

“Stop scaring her,” Jake’s voice rasps from behind you as a fresh drink is placed in your hand.

“If you haven’t done that already, I’m not sure what will,” Josh collects Jake’s warning with a banter of his own.

Suddenly, the boys’ are uprooted by a slow bluesy ballad sounding throughout the house; not a conventional party tune but after all it’s not your party. One after another, each brother’s face lights with recognition of a happening and disappears from the kitchen to the heart of the house, dragging along a someone as their chosen company. You witness every bystander in the kitchen mimic the strange migration. You never imagined a change of song could so dramatically alter the behavior of a room.

Immediately, consciousness of an unknown tenses in your muscles. Your eyes storm Jake for clarification, yet the coy grin that he produces does nothing to soothe your skies.

“So it's kind of a Kiszka New Year’s Eve party tradition,” his hand finds the back of his neck as if he is trying to thread together bad news, “to have a last dance just before midnight.”

“Oh,” your chest drops at a much less severe diagnosis than you anticipated.

Jake distances himself a step from you to offer his hand and bashfully beams, “Care to be my final dance in these last fleeting moments of a year’s dying life?”

“I- um- actually,” you panic grasping for any declination, only to find a confession in reach, “I can’t dance. Well, not slowly anyway.”

He feigns shock, “A beautiful girl of your musical knowledge and you don’t know how to dance?!”

Despite the urge to run far and fast the moment Jake calls you beautiful, you charge to your own rescue, “No one ever taught me!”

He raises an interrogative eyebrow, “You promise that’s the only reason?”

You give Jake a confused nod while also averting your eyes in shame, so you aren’t aware when he lunges to snatch your hand from its comfort zone by your side.

“It’s never too late to learn,” Jake chimes while tugging you from the kitchen.

The unforeseen tow renders you almost tripping over your own feet, docking your sweating glass of courage on the nearest counter.

You’re dragged into a tempest of strangers waltzing about until Jake decides your destination in the eye, a center spectacle accessible for anyone to gawk at.

Jake plants you in position by steading your shoulders. You pay him no mind as your consciousness is currently employed by the surrounding cloud of people. He lifts your arms by the wrists, resting them around his shoulders before drawing in close to place his hands on your waist. You’re once again consumed by the warm weight of his heavy hands that spell you starving for more.

“Jake-,” you begin to fret, suddenly feeling like you might burst into tears.

“Shh- It’s okay- Look- Look, it’s simple,” he consoles you like an eager child.

Jake motions your sight to follow his to the floor as he steps out with his left foot. Paralyzed by your own nerves, Jake doesn’t give up when you completely miss his cue to mimic his movement. You barely process the light chuckle that leaves him as he retraces his step back to starting stance.

Nimbly, his palm delineates your pelvis as his grip runs from your waist to your hip. Jake then replicates his previous action, this time firmly swatting your right side to follow; the slight impact sends an unsolicited shudder down your spine that you pray goes unnoticed.

Hesitantly, you pursue his step. Then again with your left. Retrace. Repeat. Again. Then again. And again. Until you are swaying along with the rhythm.

Jake's eyes have since left the floor, amused at the sight of concentration you are. He allows you a moment of beginner’s peace before disturbing your count.

“I think you’ve pretty much got it,” his finger lands under your chin to lift your hanging head back to eye level again, rejoining his honey-brown gaze, “you can look at me now.”

You recognize something perennial in his tired eyes and all at once you’re aware the road to unwind is undoubtedly a long one, but whether it routes through pleasure or pain is beyond your discernment; the only thing of which you're certain, is at this moment he became ineradicably and irrevocably undeniable.

After a few confident strides, you courageously let your head fall to Jake’s shoulder, only tripping over your instructor’s feet a few times but he doesn’t appear to mind. If you were rhythmically inclined you suppose you might even enjoy slow dancing, swaying about solely to remain blissfully close to your pretty dance partner as the rest of the reality seems to wane from existence.

You swear hours pass before the melody finally fades out, yet Jake and you take your time to rejoin the rest of the world, lingering in your bubble; a countdown to midnight being the hammer that eventually breaks your glass.

TEN! NINE!

You hastily revert back to your own, excusing yourself from any rejection or inquiry by joining the chant.

EIGHT! SEVEN!

Rather than dwell, your abrupt modesty strikes Jake endeared. He simply restructures himself, respecting your space, with a regaling smirk as he now jumps into the sequence.

SIX! FIVE!

Achingly aware that you’re the one who broke it, you’re assailed by a twinge of loss, fighting the appetite to feel him pressed against you once more.

FOUR!

That is until you feel Jake’s slight caress against your wrist. At first, you assume it’s an accident. The remaining life of the current year dwindling provokes the roaring crowd to compact, dancing and hugging, in hopes for a better year.

THREE!

Yet, Jake’s touch doesn’t retract. His fingers dawdle about your skin, dancing down till he climbs into your palm.

TWO!

His vast hand is extensively more than you’re able to hold, so his calluses tickle as he swiftly rakes them against your skin to interlock his fingers in yours; the bond devoted and interminable.

ONE!

You expect a confession from Jake as he cranes his head to fall in close to yours, but instead, feel a pink blaze rise to your cheeks as he delicately places his pretty plump pout just before the corner of your mouth; the sensation of his facial hair, prickly against your skin, being one you’d like to know further.

As he pulls back to revel in your bemusement, you’re finally caught in that beautiful beaming smile for the second time. Your ache to witness the entrancing sight again hadn’t registered until it surfaced long enough for you to savor it this time; your hope for the year to come instantly blossoms from Jake’s smile.

“Happy New Year,” his blessing is barely audible over the cheers of a new era.

Some unseen and unfamiliar force greater than lust, commandeers your limbs diminishing all conscious control as you impulsively cling onto his lapel and yank him back into your orbit.

Recklessly, you devour those pompous pink lips into your own. Jake doesn’t hesitate to consume the small of your back and dip of your waist within the swallowing grip of his palms. His mouth emulates your hunger, letting your kiss flourish and thrive against your lips. You give into your need for an air supply only when you feel the shape of that giant ass smile break the seal of your embrace. Nimbly, you press a small pucker to Jake’s dimples while they exist.

You remain within the gravity of your shared breaths, giggling your wish against his smile, “Happy New Year, Mr. Kiszka!”

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