#(Yes I am trying and failing to draw for fun before a terrible work week starts is it obvious?)

[somegrumpynerd]

People who post dadmare stuff we are holding hands

[cilil]

Today I unearthed a folder in which I saved some good memories from school, mostly drawings and doodles I made together with friends or by myself, and it's making me emotional.

I... found that I made fanart for a game I loved at that time and... the art wasn't bad. Especially for a teenager and beginner artist (yes, I am a beginner artist to this day, it's embarrassing, I know). The art was cute, even has some attempts at shading and converting colors to black and white. I like it. A lot actually.

And now I just sit on my bed, holding these old sketches, and wonder why I never pursued art. I loved it so much. I had fun. My younger self wouldn't have kept these drawings if not, and my older self can see it on the paper, in every line, every stroke, every tiny grain of pencil dust.

What made me think that this wasn't worth pursuing, not worth trying again until many years later? What discouraged me? I don't remember an exact moment or anything; the only thing I know for sure is that I knew and believed - and know and believe to this day, to be honest - that there's a lack of innate ability on my part and that others my age are so far ahead and were back then as well. Hell, I've been behind since I failed to color within the lines in kindergarten.

It feels and felt like a fool's errand to deal with my clumsy hands and messed up back for hours just to end up with something that is... maybe charming in my eyes, but so, so subpar in the grand scheme of things.

I stuck to writing in the end because it was the only thing people said I was good at. And I'm glad I - just this once - had the courage to do so and to keep going and, eventually, push myself into sharing it on the internet too. Through sheer delusion and determination and lots, oh, lots of writing I clawed myself up to a place where I feel just confident enough in my skills to not constantly question myself and happily create.

And therein lies the answer for art as well, doesn't it? "Just keep trying, just put in all those hours and days and months and years of work for it as well, until your hands bleed and your back gives out, eventually you'll get there! Talent is not required either!"

But it's not that simple. I'm not sure I can do this again, muster enough courage and delusion to be terrible for years until I finally start making things that go from subpar to mediocre. And maybe never from mediocre to decent or even good.

When I learned to write, I had other people's claims that I was talented to fall back on and wasn't as hopelessly behind other people. Now motivation is lower and frustration is higher. Learning curves and empty canvases paralyze me; the last time I made art it took me 2 full hours until I could push past it. Not to mention that I'd picked out all references and tutorials and everything a week before.

Where does this leave us? What will I do, you ask? Well. Even if I never beat these demons I can assure you that, every once in a while, the urge will overcome me and I will attempt something. Maybe I'll learn and improve just a little by accident. Maybe I'll even get my ass up and actually learn sometime.

I am technically currently doing an art event somewhere else, so at the very least I will be forced to make a few pieces.

And I know myself a bit better these days. That also helps.

I know that, if anything will get me past the demons, it's obsession, the need to illustrate my own fics and, most importantly, porn.

[jonathankatwhatever]

Interesting conversation in my head right now. It’s still 20 Mar 2023. Not only has the spell not broken, but it gets more powerful by the hour. What was once a vague conception of elliptic curves as I//I loops based off the coincidence of a rational point, has become clear, to where it now describes why this is genus 1, meaning why 1 hole generates, and what that hole is, which is the insertion of the gs processing, that space into a projection, into a grid square. It’s extraordinary, and getting clearer by the minute as I sit here all muddled.

The left side dominance is progressing well. He convinced her to accept that she’s absolutely terrible at doing his job, but that it’s not her fault because the point of the project is to have injured me so these tangle, and so I can be put back together again, so you stand tall and I stand on a box. You repair me, which repairs and decodes the messages encoded in both of us, so they together make this coherent whole, of which I am this flowering and you that flowering.

So, yes, I need to say that when I get mad at you, I’m getting mad at higher dimensional choices not caring about me, not you. Like I said, this left perspective is different. Like I can see how I can kill myself by the end of the week so a bankruptcy petition, which I’ll have prepared can be filed. Then my family comes out of this with the house intact and the money they need to pay off their debts. I would not have explored this if I were right controlled. I’d fear this outcome and I’d see if I felt forced into this. But left side says this will be evaluated and may be chosen because it may be that this mission fails, and that it’s preferable to leave you behind. It scares me to think that this is a real choice appearing before. What is this dagger I see before me? Am I Lady MacBeth, drawn to the ambitious man inside the woman who wants to be King?

Interesting twist. I finally feel comfortable sharing that kind of thing with you. It’s part of the growing ability to see Pathways of all kinds. It’s mostly fun, but it draws vivid negative Pathways. The positive are sitting right in front of me. Oh, I did see that and in great detail, much more vivid detail. It was you on stage with the future version of screens talking about this work, with examples from the songs flitting about and becoming chains which connect ideas together so people can experience this magic, and video of me or at least my voice over video talking about this. I don’t think it was a lecture; I think it was part of a show. It was perfect and beautiful and absorbing.

———————

I’m playing with the idea that left control maps to gs as orthogonal to right, which of course is true now that I say it. I can’t trust myself, meaning the female identified voice which thus isn’t ‘mine’, which is in quotes because I just referred to myself as me and then said I’m not me, which allows for the twisting at the End so - trying to slow my thoughts down so the natural thought appears - what gets identified into my space is confused roles, which explains that I’m calmer when left controlled because I literally can’t relate to the externals the way left can.

[yslkook]

BORDERSZ (4)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook accompanies you on your journey to purchase a brand new car. jimin charms your pants off (or attempts to) and sora has a proposal for you that you don't quite say no to. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

It takes about two weeks for Jungkook to understand exactly what kind of car you were looking for- essentially a sturdy vehicle that would get you from point A to point B without fail. Something reliable, would last for years and years, something efficient. Not necessarily anything fancy or luxurious.

But Jungkook had finally got you to shyly confess that you wouldn’t mind having heated seats in your car. After all, it had been something you’d dreamed of ever since you had received your driver’s license-

“Nothing else? Just heated seats?” Jungkook implores curiously as he pours over your meticulous binder for the fifth time. Honestly, you didn’t really need his help. You already knew what you were doing. His presence at the dealership will probably ensure that you’re not getting scammed, if anything. He loves his friends (two of them being his roommates), but he knows the truth about how they make their sales.

Mei and Mina call them sleazy car salesmen for a reason after all.

“It’s not ‘just’ heated seats!” You protest, “We never had the money for cars with heated seats when I was growing up. So that’s what I want.”

“How about leather heated seats?” Jungkook suggests, “Leather seats have better ventilation-”

“Oh, I know,” You say matter-of-factly.

“Of course you do. Smart ass.”

It feels incredibly domestic, walking into Namjoon’s car dealership together with Jungkook. Shoulder to shoulder, hopping off of his motorcycle together. He had taken it upon himself to purchase a second helmet, despite your insistence that you would pay for one.

But he had told you not to get a big head, that the helmet wasn’t for you specifically. That he needed a second helmet anyway, and you joining him on the motorcycle more and more as of recently was just the impetus for him to purchase one.

So you say nothing when it’s clear that he had bought the helmet with you in mind- it’s a sleek, glossy lilac color. A similar shade of lilac as your phone case, your favorite small backpack, and your work notebook.

You say nothing about it, only keeping your small smile to yourself.

Of course it’s Jimin who immediately jumps up to offer you assistance today. He gives Jungkook a Cheshire grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. Not that you would know otherwise.

He knows Jimin won’t let him live this down. At least Taehyung might have a little more tact than Jimin.

“So are you both looking for a vehicle together?” Jimin asks once you’re both seated in the comfortable leather seats in front of his desk, when in fact he knows damn well that you’re not.

“Huh? N-no, I’m looking for a car. Jungkook is helping me out,” You say, your face heating up at the implication. Isn’t Jimin one of his roommates?

Jungkook’s tongue pokes his cheek. You notice.

“I’m here to make sure that you or Taehyung don’t scam her,” Jungkook says, “Where’s Joon? He’s less...annoying than you.”

“Joon can’t even drive a fucking car. He has no business trying to sell them,” Jimin says swiftly.

“Er,” You interrupt softly, “Isn’t he your boss? He owns the entire dealership, doesn’t he?”

Jungkook stifles a laugh at your presumed innocence. You offer a slick smile to Jimin when he scoffs in amusement.

“Yes,” Jimin says, “So tell me. How can I make your dreams come true?”

If Jungkook wasn’t with you, you think you would’ve fallen victim to Jimin’s charms long ago. He’s nice, a little flirty and funny. But helpful. You can see how someone might end up paying more than they’d need to with Jimin being their car salesman.

You listen to every word Jimin says, taking notes in a specific section of your binder with your favorite black ballpoint pen. You need to have all the information at your fingertips before making a big decision, no matter what it is. Jungkook had teased you for it at first, but he’s become accustomed to your thought process.

Jimin has shown you at least five different types of models of cars ranging from sedans to SUVs. In theory, they all fit the bill. But you haven’t really felt the connection with any of them.

Jimin is nothing if not patient, though.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I know I’m being meticulous. You must be annoyed.”

“It’s my job, sweetheart,” Jimin shrugs, “Besides, you can repay me with your phone number maybe, huh?”

“That doesn’t sound like an ethical business practice,” You say flatly while Jungkook glares at Jimin (who only smirks at him in return), “You already have it. From when I made the appointment.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You wish,” You roll your eyes, “Does every one of your clients get this treatment or is it just me?”

“Nah, it’s just anyone who catches Jungkookie’s eye,” Jimin winks at you and Jungkook is about to strangle his roommate. Perhaps he should put an ad out for a new roommate, considering he might kill his current one in the next five minutes.

“O-oh,” You falter, cheeks blazing at this point, “Can we look at a few more? I’m gonna use the restroom really quickly. Maybe even grab a coffee.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will you fuckin’ stop it? I can’t believe you,” Jungkook hisses, “We’re literally at your workplace and you’re putting the moves on her-”

“Oh, will you relax,” Jimin says breezily, “I’m just seeing if she’ll take the bait.”

“There’s no reason for that shit,” Jungkook says, glaring at his friend, “Cut it out.”

“I like her,” Jimin says, as if he hadn’t spoken, “She’s cute.”

“Back off,” Jungkook says, “And while we’re at it, just for you being an ass. You’re gonna give her heated seats for free.”

Jungkook watches your eyes light up at the car that Jimin is currently telling you about. He can already tell from your wide eyes and soft, excited smile that this is the one. You’re already running the checklist through your head, physically looking at your notes as Jimin easily answers your questions.

“Can I take her for a test drive?” You ask Jimin and he somehow produces a set of keys for the exact model from his pocket.

“I knew this would be the one…” Jimin says as he takes you to the parking lot to grab the test car. Jungkook rolls his eyes in fondness and heads off to find his other roommate, Taehyung. And to say hello to his friend, Namjoon.

“It suits you,” Jimin says once you’d taken the car out for a drive and brought it back safely.

“You think so?” You ask, giving the keys back to him, “I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Only when I mean it, sweetheart,” Jimin winks at you.

“How lucky for me,” You mutter under your breath, “So...what are the next steps?”

“I bring out the contract, you sign it, and you take your new car home,” Jimin says confidently.

“Yeah,” You say dreamily and look outside to the car in longing. You’ve done the homework, done the research. Went through this logically and meticulously. Even if the car does start depreciating the minute you step out of the dealership… You want it. It checks all of the boxes, you know you’ll get your money’s worth from it.

But before you give Jimin the okay to draw up the contracts, you want to tell Jungkook. You spot him talking to Taehyung, his bunny smile on display (which makes you smile in turn) and excuse yourself from Jimin for a minute to go after Jungkook.

“Hi,” You say and introduce yourself to Taehyung, who offers you a wide, boxy smile, “I’m gonna get it. The car, I mean. I love her.”

“She passed the vibe check?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah. She passed the vibe check.”

When you comb through the hefty contract with sharp eyes, Jungkook is somewhat amused to see the free of charge cost for the heated seats. Jimin only winks at him in response.

You can’t seem to find anywhere else where Jimin may be overcharging you, so you ask Jungkook to review it, too. And surprisingly, Jungkook finds nothing out of the ordinary. He knows how Jimin operates here, trying to gain any extra cent of commission that he can. Not that that’s a terrible thing.

“It’s yours, sweetheart,” Jimin says fifteen minutes later, once you sign your name on the dotted line.

“Really?” You let out an exhilarated laugh, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins, “Really, really?”

“Keys are yours, and someone will bring the car out front for you,” Jimin smiles, “Congratulations on your first car. I’m honored that you chose me to help you make this purchase.”

“Wouldn’t have had it any other way, Jimin,” You beam. After a moment of deliberation, “Oh, by the way- have fun on your date with Mina tonight. I heard all about it.”

Mischief dances in your eyes and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a surprised laugh. Jungkook looks at you proudly- that’s what Jimin gets for being a menace.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks you out of the dealership and you slowly wrap a tentative, shy arm around his waist. You both wait shoulder to shoulder for one of the dealership boys to bring your brand new car out front.

In the meantime, you try to pluck up the courage to ask Jungkook to have a drink with you after. To celebrate and to treat your friend for helping you out for the last few weeks. You bite your bottom lip in nervousness and Jungkook notices. He wants nothing more than to gently pull your bottom lip out of your own grip, but refrains from doing so.

But you realize, it’s Jungkook, this is your friend and the comforting, warm scent of laundry that envelopes you gives you a little courage.

“Do you want to grab a drink or something after this?” You ask softly, “I… wanted to treat you. For helping me the last few weeks with the car stuff.”

“C’mon, baby. You know I’ll never say no to a pretty girl buying me a drink,” Jungkook says, lips pulled apart into a sly smirk.

“Oh, that’s all I am to you? A pretty girl?” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully, despite the heat in your cheeks.

“Not at all,” Jungkook murmurs, tightening his hold around your shoulders and looking at you with sincerity dripping from his big, brown eyes, “You’re my pretty girl.”

If he didn’t have a strong arm around your shoulders, you’re certain you would’ve evaporated into the floor at his words.

The image of Jungkook smoking outside of the bar right under the glowing, purple neon lights is an image you haven’t seen very often. A strand of dark hair falls in front of his face as he lights his cigarette, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Even from this distance, you can see the purse of his lips and the silver glint of rings on his fingers. It shouldn’t send a rush down your spine the way it does, but you won’t deny it. When it comes to Jungkook, you won’t deny your feelings. Or your attraction.

For some reason, a thought crosses your mind- you hadn’t told Sora that you had purchased a new car. Much less that Jungkook had helped you pick one out. But you push her from your mind easily, as if you’ve been doing the last few weeks. It’s been difficult for you to keep Jungkook out of your conversations with Sora- she always has a way of bringing him up more than not.

But it’s not just Jungkook she has a strong, stubborn opinion on. It’s everything these days- you had showed her cars that you were interested in and she had shot every one of them down, she always has something to say about your passion for work (or rather she never pays enough attention about it), and she even had something negative to say when you had timidly brought up that you were maybe thinking about another ear piercing.

You’re growing tired of it. You find yourself getting nervous around her, like you’re walking on eggshells around her. Even when she just texts you, your heart speeds up in anxiety. But at the same time, there is a voice in your head telling you not to upset her.

As if that’s somehow the worst thing that could ever happen. Objectively, you know Sora. You know she’s stubborn and loud in her opinions and always has to get her way. But at the core of it all, you want to believe that she has a good heart. Because if she doesn’t have a good heart… Then what were you doing this to yourself for? What were you surrounding yourself with all of this negativity for?

You can sense Jungkook’s dislike of her, even if he doesn’t outright say it. But you’re no idiot. Mina and Mei have been honest with you on their opinions of her. So has Yoongi and Hobi.

They all think she’s dragging you down and that you’ll spiral in her negativity if you don’t open your eyes. They’ve all had a few choice words for her, but you find yourself uneasy whenever the topic of Sora comes up.

The more you hear it, the more you wonder about your supposed best friend. But you push those sour thoughts away to focus on the man in your field of vision.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you approach him on unsteady feet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jungkook mutters with the cigarette in between his lips when you get closer to get a good look at him.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” You reply, eyes subconsciously wandering to the cigarette. Your nose scrunches at the smell without you even realizing it.

“You look like my mom when she first saw me smoking,” Jungkook says bluntly.

“Your mom? You really wanna compare me to your mother?” You raise an eyebrow, “Don’t know what that says about you, Jungkook.” Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh at that.

“Shut up,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and peels himself off of the brick wall before putting his cigarette out and tossing it in the ashtray next to him, “I think you owe me a drink?”

Jungkook, you decide, is dangerous and warm all at once. The starry glint of his big, doe eyes throws you off more than once, leaving you either stammering over your words or choking on your drink when you try to reply to him.

The bar is quiet and nearly empty, only the sounds of faint music playing in the background to keep you both company. You’re both facing each other at the bar, knees touching ever so slightly.

Even that simple touch makes you feel warm all over.

Jungkook slides your drink towards you, a soft ‘thank you’ pushing itself out of your lips. You suppress a shiver when his ring clad fingers brush over yours, and he notices the way you tense up a little bit with his touch.

He appreciates the way the dim lights shine on your hair and illuminate the planes of your pretty face. He thinks it’s the perfect lighting for a photo of you- the dark colored jacket and your dark wash jeans blending into the colors of the bar around you. Something at the base of your neck glints as you turn to face him.

“Cheers, to your new car,” Jungkook murmurs, tipping his glass towards yours.

“Cheers to you for helping me,” You reply with a smile, clinking your drink with his.

“Pleasure’s all mine, baby,” Jungkook says, “You deserve it.”

“Deserve a vehicle that will have hardly any value in ten to fifteen years?”

“You deserve something for yourself,” Jungkook corrects, looking into your eyes as if he can see right through you. You’d told him how you had grown up with one car amongst a family of five, and how money was tight when you were younger. You were the eldest of three, and now that everyone was older, you had slowly started dipping your toes into the concept of having things for yourself.

You whisper a soft thank you and take a sip of your drink. “My parents were so excited about the car,” You say quietly, “Told them I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh? You told your parents about me?”

“Had to tell them about the man who got me heated seats for free,” You reply with a knowing grin, “You think I didn’t catch that?”

“Heated seats were the least Jimin could’ve done,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

You wave him off, “I like him. I could see why him and Mina are good together. She told me they’ve had this weird on and off thing for, like, a year now? Like c’mon. Get it together.”

“Yeah. Don’t know why they keep denying the inevitable,” He says, voice full of something barely concealed.

“The inevitable?”

“They both have their issues but… They would make it work if they sorted themselves out,” He says softly, a tenderness to his eyes that makes your belly flip. You don’t know if he’s talking about Jimin and Mina or about… something else.

Something else being you and him.

“Maybe one of them is scared,” You whisper.

“They can work through it together,” Jungkook replies instantly. The air in between you both is charged, plush with tension and electricity. You look at him unsurely, with wide eyes, and god, if Jungkook doesn’t want to sweep you off of your feet and pull you in for a kiss.

“Jungkook, I-” You murmur, voice soft and deafening, silky like honey in his ears. The moment is right there, ripe for you, ripe for him...

And then your phone starts ringing, and Jungkook has never heard a worse sound. Your chest drops for a second when you see that it’s Sora calling you, and Jungkook has never felt as frustrated as he does right in this moment. Each significant moment of frustration over the past few months has Sora linked to it. He wonders if she has a radar for interrupting at the worst possible moments.

You give him an apologetic glance before answering the phone. She only calls if it’s important or if she needs you so you won’t risk it.

“H-hello-”

“You’ll never guess what I just did,” Comes Sora’s excited voice through the receiver. It’s too sugary, too sweet. You wince.

“What’s that?” You mumble, shoulders drooping.

“Got you a date for this Friday, you remember Yunho right?” She exclaims. If your heart wasn’t on the floor already, it certainly was by now. “He wants to take you out- he’s the lawyer, remember?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” You say weakly, “But-”

Jungkook’s eyes flash at your suddenly dejected frown. That’s what Sora does- she takes you and she turns your happiness into something sad. It’s like she can’t stand to see you happy about something that doesn’t align with her “vision”.

“You can thank me later, babe,” Sora says cheerily. This time, you visibly cringe as you try to protest. Try to tell her that you don’t want a date with this man, that you only want a date with the man in front of you. But you can’t get the words out, she won’t listen and she hangs up on you before you can get a word in edgewise.

“Sorry about that,” You mutter.

“Why? She’s your friend. Not mine,” Jungkook says brusquely and you bristle at his bluntness.

You’re distracted for the rest of the evening, mind on another wavelength. He knows you’re upset, but he doesn’t push. He gets you to smile and laugh a few times, only for your eyes to turn sad right after.

Jungkook only wishes that you’d be able to see what was right in front of you.

TAGS: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[luxekook]

bangtan host club ❯ part i

❯ pairing: ot7 x reader

❯ genre: ouran au, college au, crack, smut

❯ summary: when you had decided to take summer lessons at your college, you hadn’t factored in the impending presence of seven insufferably attractive and arrogant boys… the bangtan host club. 

❯ word count: 2.1k

❯ warnings: 18+, cursing, suggestive language, terrible pet names, excessive dramatics

❯ banner by: maggie @kimtaehyunq​

a/n: while this fic is loosely based off of the anime version of ouran highschool host club, it is set in university - meaning that all of the boys are of age (at least 21 years old)

host club members

❯ Kim Namjoon as “Kyoya Ootori” ❯ Kim Seokjin as “Tamaki Suoh” ❯ Min Yoongi as “Takashi ‘Mori’ Morinozuka” ❯ Jung Hoseok as “Mitsukuni ‘Honey’ Haninozuka” ❯ Park Jimin as “Hikaru Hitachiin” ❯ Kim Taehyung as “Kaoru Hitachiin” ❯ Jung Jungkook as “Haruhi Fujioka”

Taking summer classes had never been on my agenda, my studies having been mapped out in detail since the day I arrived on campus three years ago. And then the university’s president suddenly has this utterly groundbreaking epiphany and adjusts the curriculum to “ensure that all students will leave Bangtan University well-rounded”. 

Screw that. My ass is already well-rounded enough, thank you very much.

But despite my best efforts (i.e. begging President Kim to make an exception followed by crafting a petition that gained over ten thousand signatures), I have found that there is no avoiding the dastardly new physical education requirement. And since my schedule for my upcoming senior year has been planned and set for literal years, I’ve been forced to enroll in the sole summer physical education class offered at Bangtan University - Introduction to Weight Lifting.

I wish I was kidding.

To say that I am dreading the start of class tomorrow would be an extreme understatement. I’ll be lucky to escape this summer without physical injury or the loss of my dignity. Athletics have never been my strong suit, and I’ve only entered our campus gym to go to the smoothie bar.

Groaning at just the mere thought of working out and being graded for it, I trek down the streets of outer campus towards the library, swearing under my breath and sweating profusely.

It’s a blazing hot, blue-skied Sunday in July. Typically, I would be lying on a beach somewhere with a drink in my hand, soaking in the warmth of the sun with joy. But instead, here I am, sweltering and desperate for air conditioning after my ancient window unit wheezed its final breath last night. The comfortable chill of the library is my only hope aside from my landlord who promised to fix my air conditioning by tomorrow.

My frustration builds as I turn onto the block lined with imposing and picturesque estates in which the upper echelon of Bangtan University resides. I’d bet the very last ice-pack in my freezer that these houses have unfailing central air.

I pick up my pace, worn Doc Marten platform sandals slapping against the hot pavement. The pristine mansions seem to mock my distress as they exude the coolness of unbothered wealth. Despite there being no Greek life here at Bangtan University, the lack of letters emblazoned on the numerous estates I pass does not symbolize a lack of status. 

This block is home to the athletic teams who throw massive parties whenever they happen to be in the off-season. It’s also home to the legacy clubs - the exclusive groups of current students who are relatives of past alumni.

And last but not least, this block is home to the infamous Bangtan Host Club, a small group of idle rich boys with exceptionally good looks and a penchant for entertaining. 

The aforementioned group’s house comes into view as I draw nearer to campus. The host club’s mansion sits on the corner lot right across the street from campus. Typically, students are wary of such proximity - but not those boys. No, they’re un-phased, throwing massive parties every weekend without fail and without repercussion.

During my first semester, I had been confused as to why their parties had never been shut down; but now I know better. The host club’s president Kim Seokjin is the son of none other than the fucking president of the university - the very same man who damned me to my weight lifting fate.

In fact, almost the entire host club is related to someone with influence - either at the university or within the surrounding community. The only exception to the wealth factor is Jeon Jungkook, who attends Bangtan University on a scholarship not unlike myself.

About 99% of the university are host club stans. As for me? I don’t subscribe to that bullshit. And I do mean literally ‘subscribe’. They have newsletters, merch and everything. I would say I don’t understand it at all, but a small part of me does.

They’re fucking gorgeous. Like I’m talking Tom Ford at New York Fashion Week gorgeous. Armani catalogue centerfold gorgeous. Goddamn Sports Illustrated Men’s Swimsuit Edition gorgeous. 

In fact, I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin actually does model in his spare time. With his long limbs, broad shoulders and pillowy lips, Seokjin certainly has the features for it. My freshman year roommate bought so many posters of Seokjin from the host club’s merch website I think I could identify him from a hundred yards away in the dark. 

“Hey!” The bellow emanates from the porch of the host club’s house and jolts me from my memories, “Hey, princess!”

I let out a snort. Whoever that pet name is directed at needs to shut that down immediately. I mean, ‘princess’? In this economy? Please. I need off this block ASAP.

“Hello? I’m talking to you, angel!” 

The voice sounds closer now, and my eyes squeeze shut. Oh god, this person cannot be talking to me, can they?

Princess? Angel?

The sheer absurdity pushes me onward, and I do not spare a single glance in the direction where the inane greetings originated. Alas, I barely make it two feet before a tall figure screeches to a halt in front of me, panting like he had just run a marathon. 

I blink as I take in the very boy who just crossed my mind a minute earlier. Kim Seokjin looms over me, chest heaving and smile gleaming.

“Cupcake, hello!” his smile grows wider, “Why didn’t you answer me? I was talking to you.”

My brain is trying to wrap itself around the unfathomable phenomenon I’m currently witnessing. The host club president is beaming down at me like I’m the last custom Rolex ever made. His white t-shirt that probably costs more than my rent stretches across his shoulders in a way that has to be illegal. 

A bead of sweat drips down my back between my shoulder blades. I don’t have time for this attractive detour; I only have time for a long sip of iced water and a seat under an air conditioning vent somewhere deep within the recesses of the quiet library.

“Were you?” I shrug, looking over his illegally broad shoulder and plotting my escape, “I didn’t realize, considering my name isn’t princess, angel or cupcake.”

I inwardly cringe at my tone. I have a tendency to be irritable when the weather is hot, and it seems like today is no exception.

Seokjin stares down at me, his cocky expression wavering for a split second before snapping back into place. “Well, tell me your name then, sunshine, so that I may cordially invite you to the host club’s latest summer extravaganza!” His dark brown eyes sparkle as he remains seemingly impervious to my building ire, beaming down at me.

“No, thank you,” I shake my head decisively and attempt to sidestep around him. 

None of my friends are on campus for the summer, and there is no way I'm going alone to a party full of strangers. That just screams bad decisions, just like the time I willingly ate the dining hall’s “Mystery Meat Special” during my second semester.

Seokjin cuts off my path yet again, and my scowl intensifies as I glare up at him, “Could you move, please?”

Seokjin gapes back at me, “D-don’t you want to come to our party?” I stare at him with eyebrows raised. He continues at a higher decibel, “Don’t you know who I am?”

The nerve of this boy. My eyes scrunch shut as I send a quick plea to anyone out there in the universe to send me patience and then internally count backwards from ten. 

“Yes, I know who you are, Kim,” I finally say, completely exasperated, “And no, I still don’t want to go to your party.”

Seokjin is gobsmacked, looking like he’s seen a ghost as he stands before me open-mouthed. For a second, I allow myself to indulge one more time in his attractiveness, my eyes wandering along his toned torso, his muscular arms, his high cheekbones, his messy brown hair. 

And then he bounces back, snapping his fingers, “Aha! I know what this is. You’re playing hard to get! Okay, I can play along with you, sunshine.”

It’s my turn to gape at him this time, watching as he mumbles to himself about how I must want him to beg for me and how he would just love to do so. I’m about to put a stop to this madness when he spreads his arms wide and announces loud enough for the entire block to hear, “Sunshine, please, attend our party! My heart longs for your presence, and I will only be happy if I can have your arm in mine next Friday night...”

I’m honestly beginning to worry about the boy in front of me. Is he completely unhinged? Am I being Punk’d right now? 

Seokjin prattles on, “So, my sun, my moon, my stars, will you please do me the honor of joining me for a night of fun courtesy of the host club? No guest has yet to be disappointed and—!”

I finally just reach up and cover his mouth with my palm, steadfastly ignoring how plush his lips feel against my skin. “Kim Seokjin!” I hiss, “I promise I am not playing hard to get. I simply do not want to go to your party. Now, please, for the love of god, let me walk by you in peace.”

Loud bursts of laughter sound immediately after I finish speaking, and I whip around to locate the source. Two boys jog over to where Seokjin and I are standing on the pavement. Their laughter doesn’t subside with their approach. If anything, it grows louder.

“Oh, come on, pres,” the pink-haired boy who I know to be Park Jimin jeers, his melodic giggles punctuating each word. “Is this how you plan on handling your first rejection?”

My eyebrows pull together in confusion as I turn to face Seokjin, only to find him lying dramatically on the lawn in front of his house with one arm throw over his face.

“Go away, Jimin,” Seokjin groans, ripping out a handful of grass and throwing it at the other boy. Obviously, he doesn't calculate for the wind and sputters when the grass blows back in his face.

“Boss, you’ve really hit a new low,” the blue-haired boy - Kim Taehyung - grins as he looks back and forth between me and the over-the-top performance happening on the lawn. All Seokjin does in return is flip Taehyung off, seeming to have learned from his grass-throwing lesson.

Well, there’s no need for me to stay a second longer within this realm of crazy.

I turn on my heel and head off towards the library, renewed in my desperation for the relief of blissfully cold air.

Alas, I don’t get too far before the two boys with colorful hair are in front of me - each with an arm thrown over the other’s shoulders. 

“Well, well, well… I must say,” Taehyung drawls.

“You’re quite an intriguing little thing,” Jimin cocks his head, looking me up and down. I try in vain to steel myself against the heated assessments both boys are giving me.

I’d heard a lot about these two - most of it being completely outlandish and borderline unbelievable. Do they really do everything together?

It’s as if that thought is written all over my face as the smirks grow on the faces of Jimin and Taehyung. “If you don’t want to come to our party for Jin-hyung…”

“Will you come for us?” Taehyung finishes Jimin’s thought, and I am almost certain that he intended for that question to be as suggestive as it sounded.

Before I can even attempt to answer, Seokjin launches up from the ground and barges in between the two boys. “Yah! That is no way to speak to a lady! Have I taught you nothing? Don’t you fools remember lesson number fifty-two on being a good host?”

“We didn’t say anything inappropriate, pres,” Taehyung shrugs, looking pleased with how riled up the older boy is growing. His pink-haired counterpart grins, “If anything, you’re the one with the dirty mind, twisting our innocent words into such filth.”

It’s as if Seokjin is struck by lightning - his shock turning him pale as a ghost before the redness overtakes him. I cannot tell if it’s due to embarrassment or anger. All I know is that I need to bounce.

When Mt. Seokjin finally erupts, I slink away and practically jog across the street to campus. Ah, free at last...

a/n: this is part one in my host club series! originally i was going to make this a giant one-shot but i figured i would just break it up into smaller pieces so that i could get some content out uwu

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake part iii (Wolfstar Bake off au)

Chapter three!!!

This episode on The Great British Bake Off, it’s pastry week.

I’m not going to jinx it.

Oh my god, I am so sorry!

As usual… this is as good as it’s going to get.

“Have you been practicing?” Lily teased, bumping her hip against Remus’.

“Lily, we literally practice together. You’ve been eating my pastries all week.”

Lily pouted. “I mean, I know you’re right but also I’m literally with you all the time and I’m running out of conversation starters.”

Remus felt a laugh overtake him as he slung his arm over her shoulders. “Okay that’s fair, I’ll give you that much.”

“Especially since you declared some topics off-limit.” Lily grumbled. Remus sighed as he looked up at the clear blue sky. It was one of those cold crisp mornings where the grass is glittering with frost but not a single cloud decorated the sky. 

“Fine, I remove my ban.”

Lily actually squealed as they entered the tent, drawing more than one look from the other contestants. 

“Oh my god, keep it down or I’ll revoke it.”

Lily’s eyes widened as she comically mimed zipping her lips shut. Remus swung himself up on her worktop, and she swatted his knee but he didn’t move.

“So,” She prompted, her voice low. “You and Sirius?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Lils, I already told you, there is no ‘me and Sirius’.”

Lily shook her head. “That’s not true!” 

Remus made a betrayed noise at the volume of her voice and she immediately hushed herself. 

“Sorry!” She whispered. “But Re, I’m right. I mean, there wasn’t a you and Sirius at first but now… there’s definitely potential.”

“What’s there potential for?”

Remus’s heart shot right out of his chest and his stomach plummeted as Sirius hopped right up onto the counter next to him. Lily had visibly paled as the pair of them searched for an excuse.

“For… for the technical challenge to be easier this week.” Remus said, praying it would seem like a normal topic of conversation. Fortunately for him, being in a baking competition did tend to allow for the contestants to talk about it… a lot.

Sirius just nodded, seeming to go with the conversation and Lily and Remus shared a look of intense relief. On the outside, Remus was pleasantly chatting to Sirius. On the inside, he was plotting Lily Evans’ death.

“So, are we excited for pastry week?” Sirius asked. 

“I mean, no but I was never gonna be so…” Remus shrugged trailing off. 

“Ignore him, his practice rounds have been so good.” Lily endorsed. “As the person who gets to eat all of them, I’ve been very satisfied.”

“I’ll have to try them then.” Sirius was saying but Remus was watching the judges entering the tent. He hopped off the counter and moved to his own bench, with Sirius’ voice still jabbering in the background.

“Dude, I’m gonna be like ten pounds heavier leaving this show. Like wow, everything tastes so good I just want to eat it all.”

Lily’s laugh was interrupted by someone in the crew calling Sirius.

“Duty calls.” He said, saluting Remus and Lily before dashing off to the front of the tent, holding the attention of everyone in the room in the way that only someone with Sirius’ charisma could manage. James came close, but no one was quite on Sirius’ level. Which was good. Remus could barely handle one Sirius Black, never mind if there were two.

“Okay and we’re rolling in three, two, one.” Marlene called, signalling that the camera had begun.

“Welcome back bakers! It’s the week we’ve all been waiting for!”

“No James, it’s the week you’ve been waiting for.”

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s pastry week!”

“Today our lovely judges have asked you to prepare a tart or pie made with puff pastry.” Sirius said, gesturing to McGonagall and Dumbledore.

“The fillings are, as usual, yours to interpret, but it should be eight inches in diameter and have a clear design on top.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

And once again, they were off. Remus began work at a leisurely pace. He wasn't worried this week. Pastries were something he made quite often, his mother had a particular fondness for them so Remus made sure there were nearly always some in the house. He was making a lemon meringue pie and could probably make it with his eyes closed at this point.

Was it too early in the competition for him to feel this calm? Possibly. Was Remus going to question it? Nope, he would take any break from the nerves that he could get.

“He set about making the pastry first - it needed time to rest in the fridge and Remus wanted to allow as much time for that as possible. He soon settled into the familiar cathartic movements or cubing the butter and sieving flour, wishing he could have his music blasting like he did at home. Baking meant music playing as loud as humanly possible.

He rolled his dough into a ball, wrapped it in cellophane and popped it in the fridge, clicking the button on the kettle as he retired to his station, pulling out a pot and a clean whisking bowl. He made the lemon curd quickly, adding a generous amount of lemon zest to make sure the flavour was there before setting it aside to cool and whipping up some egg whites and sugar to make a meringue mix.

“You look confident.” Lily commented as Remus finished making his cup of tea, his meringue still wishing in the bowl.

“I don’t want to jinx it but… I am?” I feel like pastry week is the one I was born to do.

Lily laughed at his theatrics. “Going for star baker again I see.” But Remus shook his head.

“Nah I’m not that confident… I’m just not worried about going home this week. Does that make sense?”

Lily nodded smiling. Remus stuck out his tongue at her cheekily before turning back to work.

“I’d be careful where you put that tongue Lupin.” Sirius said, appearing besides Remus in the manner in which only Sirius could move, flowing gracefully through a room. Remus tried so hard not to blush. He failed.

(But it was hot in the tent, so that would explain it… right?)

“It seems like a valuable commodity, you being on a baking show and all. Wouldn’t want you to lose your main asset.

Now if Remus were one; not on national television, two; a person who could deliver smooth lines well and three; talking to anyone other than his celebrity crush he might have said something along the lines of “Will you take care of it for me then?”

But Remus was on national television, he wasn’t smooth, this was Sirius Black and to be perfectly honest, that was a really terrible, cringy line that didn’t make all that much sense but Remus never claimed to be good at this.

Instead he just continued blushing and laughed nervously, hoping it would cover up his little pause.

“I already have an official taste tester, so I’m sure I’d get along just fine.”

“Did someone say ‘official taste tester’?” James chimed in, appearing on the other side of Remus.

“Okay, no offence but take this as your official eviction notice, there are too many people behind this bench.” Remus said, his tone joking but he also meant the words. He would chat later, now he needed to get back to work.

“Oh how you wound us!” James cried, clutching his chest. Sirius pretended to break down in tears before they both grinned and Remus and promptly went off to bug someone else. Remus shook his head fondly and set back to work. He rolled out his pastry and lined the tin, adding some (frankly, beautiful) crimping detail on the edge and popping it into the oven for fifteen minutes for a blind bake.

“Here we go.” He half sang, dragging out the last word as he pulled the tin out of the oven and ladled in his lemon curd. He piped on the meringue and took out the little blowtorch he had to finish it.

“I have a weapon!” He declared, brandishing it to Lily and Tonks on the bench next to him burst out laughing.

“Who would have thought that the innocent little Lupin would have so much fun with something so dangerous.” She teased.

“Oi!” Remus protested. “Who’s calling me innocent?”

Lily looked at him like he had lost his head. “Have you not been keeping up with Bake Off Twitter?”

“Uh, no? Should I be?”

“Yes!” Lily and Tonks enthused at the same time.

“It’s like, my only source of entertainment at this point.” Peter chimed in and Remus looked around in confusion. 

“Am I the only one who didn’t know about this?”

Lily shrugged. “I guess so.”

Sighing, Remus turned back to his pie. All he wanted to do now was whip out his phone and check out what was being said, but he had a cake to make. Or really, a pie to furnish.

Ever so carefully, Remus turned on the blowtorch and began moving it over the top of his creation, watching the white piping turn a beautiful gold.

“I’m kind of obsessed with the blue flame, I’m not going to lie.” Sirius said, coming up to Remus once again and Remus really wasn’t sure how he was supposed to handle fire and Sirius Black at the same time. This competition sure was testing more than his ability to bake.

“How long do we have left?” He asked instead of replying.

“Two minutes.” Sirius confirmed, just before James announced it to the entire room from the other side of the tent.

Remus nodded, biting his lip in concentration as he tidied up the finishing touches of his presentation, very aware of Sirius’ eyes on him the whole time, and then time was up.

“Okay bakers, set your creations on the end of your bench please.” Sirius said and the judges came into the tent.

“Mr Lupin, we’ll start with you today.” Dumbledore announced pleasantly and Remus smiled, the nerves that had been absent all morning making an appearance.

Dumbledore cut into the pie and Remus couldn’t stop himself from smiling when it looked perfect on the inside.

“The flavours in this are excellent.” McGonagall commented, going for another bite. Remus bit down his grin.

“Thank you.”

“I would have liked to maybe see a little more decoration on top.” Dumbledore said and Remus nodded along. “But otherwise, this was a lovely treat. I do have an affinity for lemon, you know.”

Remus beamed as they moved away. Pastry week was off to a good start.

“Thank god it’s lunch.” Lily groaned, throwing herself into a chair. “I know we have stools in the tent but, it’s just not the same.”

“Preach!” Tonks cried, collapsing down next to her.

Peter shuffled in, a few of the other contestants joining them. Sirius and James filtered over from where they had been chatting to the judges. Remus pulled out his phone so that he could finally look at Twitter.

“Remus Lupin is such a sweetheart, I would die for him.”

“Remus Lupin blushing is my new religion.”

“Has anyone else noticed the way Sirius looks at Remus? No? Just me?”

The last one caused Remus’ apparently infamous blush to appear. He really hoped Sirius hadn’t seen that one. Remus was just kidding himself if he thought Sirius hadn’t. He had been in the media since he was small - both his parents being famous politicians. Sirius was famously separated from the rest of the Black clan, leaving them and making his own life. He had jumped around jobs for a little while, Remus remembered reading once in an interview Sirius had done in some newspaper, before falling in love with presenting. He had been appearing on shows ever since.

“I’m so ready to just go to sleep now.” Peter groaned and Remus nodded in agreement.

“Seconded.” He said, wishing he could just close his eyes for a few moments. Sadly, the show must go on.

“How about we all go get dinner after we finish filming today?” Sirius suggested. Suddenly Remus was wide awake. The end of the day couldn’t come quick enough.

“Today for our technical challenge, our judges would like you to make six identical apple turnovers.” Sirius announced.

“They should have a buttery, flaky pastry with a soft, sweet filling.” James continued. “Everything you need can be found under the cloth on your bench.”

Remus eyed the blue and white checked cloth, keeping it’s secrets hidden.

“Do our judges have anything they say before they go?”

“Make sure you watch out for the colour.” McGonagall said vaguely and with that, they were gone.

“Well that was helpful.” Remus muttered to Lily as they uncovered their ingredients, Lily giggling at him.

“Have you ever made these before?” She asked. 

“Um… Once maybe?” Remus said, scrunching up his nose in thought. “But it was years ago. Have you?”

Lily shook her head. “No. I’m not sure why because I love them, but I’ve never made them.”

Remus nodded and picked up the sheet of ingredients, scanning the instructions quickly.

“They seem… pretty okay?”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Lily agreed. “Which is making me nervous.”

Remus chuckled and nodded his head. “I suppose we’d better get to it then.”

“I would suppose so.” Lily agreed and that was the most they spoke for another while.

Remus made his dough, set it aside and prepared the apples, the actions new but familiar enough that his brain could tune out a little. His traitorous mind wandered to Sirius, to the tweets talking about the way Sirius looked at him. Remus could almost imagine it, him icing a cake, biting his lip in concentration while Sirius looked on, wishing he could be the one to take his lip between his teeth-

Remus shook himself out of his thoughts. That was crazy. Sirius didn’t look at him that way and he was only teasing himself to let himself fantasise about it.

He filled his pastries carefully, not wanting to over fill them or the dough would split, but if he under-stuffed them, they would just look collapsed and sad. He crimped the edges with a fork and using a knife, carefully cut slits in the dough to let the steam escape. Finally, he brushed the tops with an egg wash and sprinkled sugar over them before placing the tray into the oven.

Bake until cooked the recipe said and Remus groaned. Would it kill them to be a little more specific.

He turned around and saw Lily make a face at her recipe and smiled, knowing she was thinking the same thing. He crouched down and peeked into his oven, watching the dough cook.

“A watched pot never boils.”” Sirius chirped from above him and Remus looked up.

“Good thing this isn’t a pot then.”

Sirius snorted and hopped onto Remus’ counter. “How’re things going?”

“Pretty okay? So far today everything’s gone right, so I’m trying not to jinx it.”

Sirius laughed. “That’s fair. I won’t ask you any more so.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Remus grinned. “So, tonight? Don’t we all have dinner together anyway?”

Sirius shrugged. “At different times though! I mean, I know we have to stay in the hotel to protect our little bake off bubble but I thought maybe we could pretend it was a real night out, get dressed up, all that kind of thing.”

Remus nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Remus barely dared to breathe as they held eye contact for a moment, but then Sirius coughed and jumped down and Remus looked in on his turnovers, the moment nothing more than a blip on his radar.

(A blip he would think about a lot).

(But it was just a blip).

Remus looked at his pastries. Fuck, they were a little darker than he would have liked. Not burned, but still not the nice golden Remus had wanted. Fucking Sirius with his gorgeous fucking face and his maddening smile and his dumb ideas.

Remus set his pastries out on the plate he would present them on with a sigh. They weren’t bad, really they weren’t. But they could have been perfect.

Fucking Sirius Black.

(But damn if Remus wasn’t enamoured).

Sirius and James called time up and the bakers all made their way to the table at the front of the tent to put their baking behind their pictures for the blind judge. Remus waited patiently at the side for a moment as the people crowded around the table, waiting until there was more room. Finally he stepped up next to Peter and was just putting his plate down when Peter, who was talking to Tonks, waved his hands in a dramatic hand gesture and knocked the plate right out of Remus’ hands.

There was nothing Remus could do. From the moment Peter had made contact, Remus was doomed, unable to catch the plate. He could only watch in horror as his pastries crashed to the floor.

“Oh my god, Remus I am so sorry!” Peter cried in horror, dropping to his knees to Remus’ aid.

“It’s okay Pete.” He said, his throat tight. Just needing a minute to figure out what the fuck to do. Sirius was there in a heartbeat, salvaging two of the turnovers and putting them on a plate.

“Hey, Re, don’t worry, I’ll go talk to the judges now, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

Remus met his eyes and smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

Peter was still apologising profusely so Remus stood up and turned to him. “Pete, it’s fine really. It was an accident.”

They all sat down on their stools and Lily took Remus’ hand in hers. He squeezed it a little trying not to panic. This wasn’t his fault.

James and Sirius arrived just a second before the judges, having explained the situation. McGonagall and Dumbledore went to Remus’ first, still not knowing of course that the disaster turnovers belonged to him.

“I heard there was a bit of an accident.” Dumbledore said, eyeing the plate. “But never mind that, we’ll judge based on this one.

Remus let out a breath of relief as the pastry was cut down the middle and McGonagall and Dumbledore both took a bite.

“Slightly overbaked.” McGonagall commented. “But otherwise, quite good. I like the apple to pastry ratio.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Overall, quite good.”

Remus let out a breath of relief, having experienced the most stress he had encountered so far on the competition. The judges went through the rest of the pastries, and were quite impressed. They had all produced some decent bakes.

Remus came fourth, Lily came second. Peter had come fifth and Tonks won it. The rest of the contestants filed in the other slots.

Peter apologies again as Remus helped tidy his station and gather his things but Remus just smiled tiredly. “Pete, it’s really fine. There’s no harm done.”

Peter smiled gratefully and moved away. Remus walked back to the hotel with Lily, ready to relax.

“Are you wearing a shirt?” Lily yelled from the bathroom.

“Yeah but with skinny jeans. Dress that shit down.”

Lily snorted as she emerged into the bedroom wearing a floaty sort of dress that stopped just above the knee.

“Oh you look great!” Remus enthused as she gave him a little twirl.

“Yeah and you look hot. Who would have thought the bookworm could have such scandalous jeans!”

Remus blushed. “They’re not that bad.”

“Remus they’re practically painted on. But it’s great. Sirius will love them.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yeah as if I was thinking about Sirius when I got dressed.”

(He was thinking about Sirius when he got dressed).

“You ready to go down?” She asked, holding out her elbow like a gentleman escorting a lady to a dance. Remus chuckled and linked her arm and together they strolled down to the hotel’s restaurant

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Britain's favourite bakers!” James declared as he strolled up to them just inside the restaurant. They both laughed but Remus didn’t miss the pink stain on Lily’s cheeks.

“Grab a seat anywhere.” James said, gesturing to the one long table, already half-filled with contestants and crew alike.

“The host even on your night off!” Lily joked and James grinned. 

“What can I say? I give the people what they want.”

Remus and Lily went to sit down, slotting in by Tonks, Marlene and Peter. Sirius and James joined them a couple of minutes later and the night kicked off. No one was drinking - they were filming the next morning. None of the bakers were risking being anything less than on top of their game and the rest of the crew were up a lot earlier to get the set prepared, but they didn’t need it. The food was good, the conversation was good and the people… well the people were great.

“So how did you get into presenting?” Lily asked Sirius as they all dung into their main course. 

James and Sirius grinned at it. “Well Jamie always knew it was what he wanted to do,” Sirius said, ruffling James’ hair and laughing when James tried to shove him off. “He was insufferable in school, always doing dramatic presentations and the like. I realised one day when I came to pick him up from the set of a show and, I don’t know, I just thought ‘hey I could do this’.” 

Remus smiled at the careful nonchalance Sirius had, it was almost as if he didn’t realise what an icon he’d become in the country.

“How did you all get into baking?”

Lily blushed, looking down at her plate, Remus burst out laughing, already knowing the story.

“Her sister told her she wouldn’t be able to bake well and Lily had to prove her wrong.” He told them and the table burst out laughing.

“In my defence,” Lily protested, “That was only for that first time! I realised I loved it and that’s why I bake now.”

“I don’t believe you.” Tonks said as he took a bite of her food, ducking when Lily threw a balled up napkin at her head.

“How about you Remus?” Sirius asked and Remus looked to his left to see those grey eyes trained on him.

“My mom always baked.” He said with a shrug. “I always used to help her. I don’t even remember when I started doing it myself, it was so long ago. I suppose it’s just something I’ve always done.”

Sirius smiled. “That’s nice.”

“Well I,” Tonks interjected, “Was forced to start baking in school. I hated it.”

Remus looked at her incredulously. “What?”

“Yeah! But then there was this cake I had to make for one of my exams and it was so good. And I wanted to eat it one day, so I made it, and I realised I didn’t actually hate baking, I just hated baking in school.”

“Okay but, does Bake Off not remind you of school?” Peter asked.

“Oh yeah,” Tonks agreed, nodding empathically. “I’m having major flashbacks. I have no idea how I thought this would be a good idea.”

“Tonks, I say this with love, but you are an idiot.” Remus wheezed, tears building in his eyes from laughing. 

The desserts came out and the waitress with ‘Dorcas’ on her name tag joked that she hoped they would be up to standards. Remus didn’t miss the way Marelene’s eyes followed her around the room. He looked up and saw Sirius noticing him notice. Their eyes met and Remus couldn’t fully express what it was, but something passed between them. Remus grinned and lifted a forkful of cake to his mouth, holding eye contact throughout. Sirius bit his lip and grinned.

It was a good night.

“Hello again bakers! As you well know, it’s time for our Showstopper challenge!” James said, grinning broadly. “This time, our judges are looking for a savoury twist.”

“They would like you to prepare twenty four amuse-bouche, made with filo pastry and of course, with a savoury filling of your choice.” Sirius continued

“Judges, any words of advice?”

“The trick to filo pastry is to try to stretch it as thin as possible.” Dumbledore said, and with that, the pair of them left the tent.

“Eloquent as ever.” James joked. “Alright, ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

“Here we go again…” Tonks drawled, dragging out the last word. Remus shot her a grin.

“I hope you don’t feel like you’re back in school.” He teased. Tonks threw an onion at him. Things were good.

“Are you able to get the window pane?” Lily asked, lifting up on her tip-toes to try to peer over at Remus’ bench.

Remus lifted up his dough, stretching it and holding it up to the light. ‘Window panes’ in baking were essentially when you could stretch the dough so thin, it became transparent.”

“Em… Kind of? I mean it’s not perfect but I suppose it’s not the worst.” He shrugged and put it in the fridge. “As usual… that’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Lily chuckled and placed her own dough in the fridge. “Seconded.”

Remus took out a pan and while it heated up, he started chopping sausage and black pudding into tiny pieces. He threw them on the pan to fry while he sliced an apple as thinly as possible before tossing them in the pan too. After he had taken his filling off the heat and let it cool down a little, he took out his dough and divided it into twenty five sections - leaving an extra piece of dough in case something went wrong.

He rolled the dough out until he thought it couldn’t possibly get any thinner, and then he rolled it a little dough. As with the turnovers, adding the right amount of filling was a little tricky. Remus had discovered that exactly one tablespoon seemed to produce the best result, so he measured pedantically, wanting to make sure this challenge was as perfect as possible. He crimped the edges (he was going to be so good at crimping after this week) and popped his pastries into the oven, starting a timer and then all that was left to do right now, was wait.

“This is the worst part.” Lily groaned. “It’s so boring.”

“Now I’m having school flashbacks.” Tonks agreed.

“Oh my god, stop being so dramatic and just make a cup of tea.” Remus said. “Tea is the magic solution to everything.”

Tea, it turned out, was not quite the magic solution to everything, because when Remus took his pastries out of the oven, a few of them had split.

“But I had a formula!” He muttered mostly to himself. “Dumbass pastries, doing me dirty like this.”

“And here we have a wild Remus Lupin in his natural habitat.” Sirius commentated, appearing at his side. “Remus, are you really talking to the baking?”

Remus looked at him, his face revealing nothing. “They betrayed me.”

“Talking to them won’t change that.”

“Maybe not, but at least they’ll feel ashamed, the little shits.”

“Remus! Can you never let me get footage that I can actually use? I swear I spend half my time editing your scenes, you and your mouth.” Marlene exclaimed.

Remus winced. “Oops?”

Marlene grumbled as she walked away. Sirius shot him a wink.

“Don’t worry,” He said. “I quite like your mouth.”

Remus dropped the pastry he was holding. It was a good thing he made twenty five.

Peter won star baker. “A bloody good thing too - pastries are basically the only thing I eat!” and a woman named Sarah was sent home. Remus registered approximately none of this. All he could hear were Sirius’ words replaying over and over in his head.

“I quite like your mouth.”

It really was official. Remus Lupin was completely and utterly fucked.

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the latest Farin&Bela pencil drawing.

Aka the one that’s also my icon, even when that was a big risk to take because normally I start hating the photos I have once drawn, especially if I have failed miserably. This is how the drawing itself turned out:

ATTENTION: The original post about that drawing, with better image, behind this link.

This post is solely about the process itself with lots of pictures and also plenty of gifs, because I promised to do one if people would like to see that and I got some comments saying that they’re looking forward for that. So, here’s now that post!

For starters I have to apologize for the terrible quality that is the photos. I used my phone camera only and never thought about posting them, I just took them as a reference for myself and to show the progress to a friend and only after finishing the drawing I noticed that the angle of the camera causes a huge impact on the perspective of the drawing, so I sometimes might have done useless work when I thought some perspective was wrong when it was actually the photo that was wrong and not my work! I mean, take a look at these photos of the finished piece:

You see that? I realized this when I took maybe the second photo of the Farin sheet and looked at it and couldn’t believe my eyes because I didn’t remember drawing his torsto THAT small! And then I looked at the drawing and was like “wtf???” because it looked nothing like in the photo and then it hit me...

Also, another thing that I learn was that I might need to pay more attention to the perspective of the whole thing also because when I draw, I sit at the table so I am constantly seeing the drawing from my perspective instead of looking at it from above so that’s probably also going to affect the way I draw. I try to keep that in mind in the future so I can avoid redrawing things again and again just because my perspective is different than the reference photo’s.

Also the giant forehead of Farin’s in the photo on the right might have caused me to laugh a bit too much but anyway, let’s continue~ Or more like: let’s start for real this time.

Here’s the reference photo to y’all:

What I did in photoshop was to draw a line between them to see how I can divide the photo on two A4 papers. I had been thinking about this photo for some time already because it’s one of my favorites (but now I just feel cringy looking at it after I have drawn it... goddamnit!), and I got this idea that I could try drawing it on two papers in case I fuck up so I can start over or try again without having to do twice the work! Which was actually a good decision because this was the first version of Farin:

And it was awful. I also realized I had never drawn Farin’s face from he front. I have drawn him before from the side a few times but maybe once it came out actually good so that was why I decided to do the 2 paper method - because I knew it was not going to be an easy job! Bela is relatively easy to draw so I knew already that I would not have too many problems with that one.

I struggled with Farin’s eyes the most, at first.

It took me a while to figure out how to do that white line in his lower lid. Keep in mind that this was my first face portrait in over 10 years so I was very, very rusty and I just didn’t remember how to draw like anything anymore. (The photo is tilted because Bela’s face is a bit tilted and my hand can’t draw anything that is not straight [lol] so I have to rotate the photo in order to even draw the sketch of Bela’s eyes.)

So I took my sketchbook and tried to do some eyes...

I was still struggling so much here until I remembered about blending. And I didn’t have my hopes high but grabbed the eyeshadow applicators (my fave tool for blending) anyway, and switched to my other sketchbook in case the paper was the issue and:

Blending. It was all about blending! So with that in mind, I realized I can continue and I don’t need to do these in my old way, everything doesn’t have to have a lineart done but some of the job is done not with the pencils but with the eraser.

Anyhow, the previous Farin looked really bad and was too big as well so I just discarded that and started a new sheet because the old lines were not coming off properly anymore. I don’t remember if this is the old face or new but I think this might still be the old one:

Yes it definitely is the old because look at those lines! This is the new sheet:

And in the photo you can see one of my pencils - I use Derwent Graphic pencils, it’s a 12 pencil set with very soft pencils, starting with H, F and HB and ending to 9B. With this one I used F, HB, B, 2B, 5B, 7B and 9B. The white pencil is actually my new love aka the eraser pencil Koh-I-Noor Hardmuth. It’s amazing, I recommend! I just didn’t order 10 new ones this other day. I actually used about 1,5 full eraser pencils on this drawing alone so that’s why 10.

Here’s a “little” gif of the process on Farin:

I felt crazy when I went for the shirt, and I felt like I was going crazy MEANWHILE drawing it but in the end I did it and I’m super proud of it!

Below is the reference photo, it was pain in the ass to follow all those lines with my eyes and try to find what was I drawing and where was I but I think I did good. That was a fun challenge.

Okay so, when I was done with the new lineart, I decided to go for the shading and blending because that’s what really makes the drawings to pop. I started with the left (his right, my left) side of Farin’s face because I’m right-handed, and in the first photo I had done just the left (right) eye and mouth and nose, but in the second there’s also the other eye done already:

Keep in mind this was not the last time I drew the eyes. Not even close.

Something was off with the right (left) eye so I had to do that one again and I noticed that when you blend but haven’t erased and cleaned it yet, it looks like a black eye :DDD So here’s the before and after images of that cleaning. (Cleaning = I draw, blend, erase, draw and blend more when needed and then erase again, and repeat this as many times as I need until it starts to look ready to my eye.)

So here Farin was “finished” but if you still remember the final piece or compare it to it, you might notice it looks quite different. And you’re right. But more about that later, because at this point I started to work on Bela.

It actually started really well - I also had to do the whole lineart again because it did not match the size of “finished” Farin. I don’t remember if this is the first or second eye but when I had drawn his eye for the first time, I noticed it was not in line with Farin so I had to redraw it. A gif of the progress:

What’s that brown paper I’m using, you may ask? Well I noticed that people have some sort of paper on top of their art to keep it from smudging and I have no clue what that is so here’s my poor artist recommendation: baking paper! I tested it and it works (if you just remember to keep it under your hand, that is...) so that is, in fact, baking paper! :DD

I have drawn Bela’s face a few times before and he’s just so much easier to draw. In fact I used 4-5 days on Farin but I managed to start and finish (this version of) Bela just in one day. And that means that out of 12 hours (because I literally used the whole day for drawing) I used maybe like... 5h or something on Bela. That’s how much easier he really is to draw.

I don’t know wtf is wrong with Farin’s face but he’s extremely difficult to draw and I’m not the only one who has been saying this. I guess he just looks so regular but still unique enough to be difficult to draw. Bela then again has features that are very unique and very... caricature-like? I mean that just by drawing his nose or chin you can make a comic book Bela look exactly like himself, and with more realistic style his eyes already do a lot, but Farin’s really the opposite. My comic book version of Farin is literally the most basic version I can draw, it’s how I draw those characters and the only thing that makes him look himself is the hair, and his nose in a side profile. So I think that’s why it’s so difficult to draw him because he doesn’t look too regular but still regular enough to make is a very challenging task to do properly.

So yeah, the same day as I started working on Bela, I was also “finished” with the drawing:

Also look at how different it looks like from this perspective:

With the reference photo open in photoshop and I don’t understand how Bela looks more like himself in my drawing than in the photo. Also when I showed the WIP to my brother, he said that I somehow had succeeded at making Farin look more like Farin than what he does in the photo even. It’s weird.

But we were still far from finished. I was going to use the fixative on this soon but it just kept snowing the whole week so I couldn’t so every time I walked past the drawings, I stopped to fix this and that. For days I kept telling myself “I’m done, I can’t do more than this, I can’t do better than this.” and considered the drawing finished but still kept fixing things. Every time I was “done” with the other drawing, I saw something to fix in the other one and once that was done, I felt like the first one wasn’t as good and had to fix something from it too. And that led to a cycle where the other drawing was always better than the other and the worse one needed to be fixed. In the end I was hating the whole process and myself and my skills and I was already ready to abandon this whole thing and call it a day and never ever show it to anyone “because I cannot draw”. The photo above, here’s a list of things I redrew after that:

Bela’s eyes, the right (left) one at least twice.

Bela’s nose.

Bela’s mouth a couple of times.

Farin’s eyes x588045028520

And a list of things I kept fixing and fixing:

Bela’s chin.

Bela’s neck shadows.

Bela’s hairline.

Farin’s whole face was tilted so I tried to fix that.

Farin’s face was too wide, which meant also partially redrawing the ear.

Farin’s hair was too long and wide too.

Farin’s nose.

Farin’s mouth might be the only thing I drew only once and I’m actually still extremely proud of how it came to be. I did the lips solely with blending so that was super exciting to notice how I can use it for drawing and don’t need the pencils for everything!

During Bela’s eyes and nose and mouth especially I was hating myself so much and I felt like I was taking the risk of ruining the whole thing and a few times I was certain that was what I had just done too, until I somehow was able to save it again. But because of that, I wasn’t able to make Bela’s mouth any lighter anymore, the color wasn’t just coming off the paper so had to use what was there and make it look like it’s how it’s supposed to be, too.

Here’s a gif about those changes on Bela - the first one has the old eyes and nose, the others have minor changed on the nose and mouth:

(The blacks probably don’t get any blacker in reality, I did add more color to it all the time but mainly it’s just the lighting and my phone camera changing the brightness.)

I did the final details on his nose without even using the reference photo anymore. The photo didn’t seem to make any sense anymore at all so I was just using my mechanical pencil and the blending tool and eraser to make is look better. To my eye it looked more like a very flat nose with a big tip of the nose and he doesn’t have a flat nose and I tried to get rid of that illusion. I still feel like it makes him look bit weird but I’m not entirely sure how. Maybe it was because of my improvisation, idk...

So, Bela was then finally finished for the last time. In the Farin piece his left (right) eye had been bugging me the whole time and I didn’t want to touch it but still I felt like I have to do something about it because it was bugging me way too much. I then figured I could draw the eye line by line and take a photo of it each time to see if it looks right already or not, maybe I could then avoid doing all the phases before I was sure what to think about it. I mean, now the only way to see if it was correct was to draw e.g. an eye from start to finish, I couldn’t see from just the lineart or unblended eye if it was in the right spot etc. And here’s that progress on a gif:

The gif about only the eye would look so nice if Tumblr didn’t make the gifs so HUGE - this one is actually only 300px or 400px or something:

Apparently I also wasn’t happy with the other eye because:

But good thing is: I really enjoy drawing eyes. I love seeing them to “come alive”, my favorite part was to eraser a bit of the color on the iris to make them look like they are actually shiny! It feels like something so small to do and yet it makes a huge impact on the drawing!

And here’s yet another gif of the whole Farin sheet with all of the changes, including the last changes that made his head narrower, and less tilted and more in line. Look at the left side of his head especially to see that:

I can also see his nose changing between the first few photos. I keep forgetting about that but yeah, I also fixed that a little at some point.

And last but not least, the whole drawing in some sort of a timelapse gif:

Last two are the same but just a photo and the scan of the finished drawing. I still keep seeing things I would do differently but no can do, I already used fixative on it, also to keep myself from obsessing with it any more :D And to use it as a study of some sort. I have never been able to draw a perfect pencil drawing and this isn’t one either. I probably never can draw perfect drawings from references.

I do enjoy the whole shading and blending process, so much so that when I was editing these photos, I just wanted to start drawing something so bad but I also figured that I start to lose motivation when I get to the point where everything should be finished but I just can’t make it perfect. Like the current WIP I have, all I should do is to get the proportions and perspective and the lines of their faces correctly and I would be ready but it feels more like a superpower some people possess and I’m not one of those. I don’t know what is it but I just feel that I cannot see. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can’t see what I try to do and somehow keep drawing everything the wrong way. Just like in this post’s drawing too. There’s still things that are wrong and I know what it is but I don’t know how to solve it. My hands just don’t listen to me and they can’t do what I think they should. I also think the reason I cannot draw perfect copies of photos is because you can always see my “handprint” in them. If I copy a photo, it will look like a photo and not like a drawing made by me. So I believe that in my drawing there’s always a part of me visible and I’m not entirely sure if it’s a good thing or not. On bad days it’s not a good thing, obviously. On good days? Well I guess it’s good then because it just means I have my own style which I really should appreciate. But I wish I had my style only when I want it to be visible, but I can’t control it. Just like I cannot write text by hand that would look like it was written with a computer, so I guess I should just try to get used to it, no matter how much it’d bug me sometimes.

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.10/25

Previous

The flat was filled with the melodic sounds of sitar strings, or more accurately, the screeching sounds of sitar strings.

Jaskier still hadn’t gotten the hang of his new baby.

It was a truly beautiful instrument but completely different to his usual stringed instruments. The long neck of the sitar had way more pegs than he used to and he just couldn’t get it to sing like he wanted. He was struggling to play with the microtones that the sitar music was famous for. He would probably have to see if he could find a teacher to help him. That wasn’t going to be easy.

He gently put the instrument back in its case and sat down at his piano instead. His flat wasn’t really big enough to house his baby grand piano but he just hadn’t been able to leave the beautiful instrument behind in the shop. It had called out to him like a siren and he’d been helpless to resist its call.

Of course, he’d probably be able to afford a bigger flat if he managed to stop buying instruments.

He laughed. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His fingers idly pressed the keys without him putting much effort in. He closed his eyes and let the music free from his heart.

School was starting back the next day and he’d been up almost all weekend trying to finish up his lesson plans. He hadn’t meant to leave it to the last minute but time had just gotten away from him and suddenly it was Saturday and he’d not done any work. Luckily coffee and cat naps were his bestest friends in the whole wide world and he’d finally managed to get it all done. Just in time to enjoy his last evening before the kids took over his life once more. His kids were amazing but full of energy and it took a lot out of him to be so switched on all day long. He’d already drafted his email to the parents to send out on Friday evening based on his lesson plans for the week, but he still had Geralt’s left to write.

Not that Geralt received any special treatment or anything.

It was just that he needed to be mindful of Ciri’s special circumstances.

Or at least that was the lie he’d told himself all term.

But at least he still personalised each of the emails a little before sending them out!

And so what he he wrote Geralt handwritten letters more frequently than the other parents.

It wasn’t a crime.

The only crime was Geralt’s ass.

It was to die for.

He groaned and shook his head to try and clear out the thoughts of his love, his fingers slipping on the keys of the piano, but there was really nothing he could do to stop the barrage of Geralt thoughts. Since parents’ evening he’d developed a blooming friendship with Geralt and it was making him feel all sorts of things that he really shouldn’t be feeling if he wanted to keep his job.

They had managed to meet up a few of times over the last half of the school term to discuss Ciri’s progress at school, although Jaskier could count on one hand how many times Ciri’s classwork had actually come up in conversation. Jaskier could never resist flirting with the firefighter which Geralt took in his stride. Although Jaskier wasn’t entirely certain that Geralt even realised he was flirting.

Jaskier was ninety-five percent sure that Geralt was interested in men, and in him specifically. He’d never explicitly said it and there was nothing about their meetings that really screamed anything more than friendship, but every so often Geralt would seemingly flirt back and it floored Jaskier every single time. How was he supposed to handle that? This tall muscular amber-eyed God was actually paying him attention. The small smiles that Geralt gave him made his heart sing, and to the gods when Geralt laughed, he felt his insides turn to mush. Geralt was usually happy to let Jaskier hold most of the conversation, talking about his new instrumental conquests, books he was reading, the beautiful birds he’d seen on the walk to work, but the white-hair man was beginning to open up.

Jaskier had learnt more about Roach, who he’d mistaken for a large dog in Ciri’s drawing. He had, of course teased Geralt over his choice of name but that hadn’t lasted long when Geralt had turned the table on him and asked what Jaskier would call a horse and the only name he could think of was Greg. Geralt offered up a little information about his teammates but notably avoided talking about his childhood. Jaskier couldn’t blame him for that. He had avoided that topic himself.

He knew that Geralt struggled to find time to cook but always made an effort to cook something from scratch with Ciri’s help at least once a week. Their favourite thing to make was pizza, it was also their favourite take-away. He’d learnt that Geralt tended not to watch much tv unless it was with Ciri and the man could tell you far too much about Ciri’s favourite cartoons, which explained his Apple Jack lunchbox. Geralt preferred to read in his free time instead, normally fantasy books, anything with a dragon in. Geralt’s favourite colour was blue which Jaskier adored. He could pretend that the reason was because his eyes were blue. He had filed that information away to fuel several romantic daydreams which ended in a summer wedding.

His fingers began to dance over the keys in a previously unheard melody.

It was beautiful.

“Ah fuck!” He cursed and scrambled to find manuscript paper as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

It was buried in between his lute and his computer. There was barely a spare page in the notebook but he managed to find one in the middle. Once he’d got the melody captured he would copy it over into a fresher, more organised book that held his complete compositions.

He closed his eyes again as he tried to remember precisely what he’d played before but it was missing something. The chords weren’t quite right and it left the piece sounding almost empty and dead.

“Bollocks!”

The moment had passed and his muse had left him.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his recents calls until he found the number he wanted. The phone rang twice before the sweet dulcet tones of his younger cousin sounded in his ears.

“What do you want?” Essi asked wearily.

“Lovely to speak to you too.” Jaskier shot back.

Essi sighed. “I’m working, Dandelion.”

“This late?” He double checked the clock. It was almost nine in the evening but then again she was a professional singer. If she had a gig then it was likely to be later on in the day, and now that he paid more attention he could hear the sounds of a bar in the background of the call.

“Not all of us work nine til five, Dandy.” The old nickname slipped out.

“Essi!” He groaned. “I stopped calling myself Dandelion years ago”

“Says the man that realised an album last spring under the alias of Dandelion.”

“It’s a stage name.” He pouted before he remembered she couldn’t see him.

He heard someone calling her name in the background and she yelled back. He winced as the shout hurt his ears. “I gotta go, did you need something?”

He sighed as he ran his fingers over the keys of his piano without making a sound. He could still hear the notes in his head as he desperately tried to recall the tune he had played before. “I just lost another composition to the cruel winds of time.”

“Who were you thinking about?” She asked and he could picture her easily. One hand on her hip, guitar case slung around her shoulder, long blonde hair falling in front of one of her cornflour blue eyes, eyes they had both inherited from their shared grandfather.

He frowned as he considered her question. “Who said I was thinking about anyone?”

She laughed before shouting again at whoever was trying to get her attention. Jaskier held the phone away from his ear this time. Essi really did have a set of lungs on her. “Dearest cousin. Your first album was all about your failed relationship with Pris. The second album was your failed relationship with Stella, and Valdo’s betrayal by stealing away your true love.”

“Wow. Geez. Thanks Essi. You really know how to build a man up.”

“So what failed relationship is it this time?”

“There is no relationship.” He spat back through gritted teeth, wondering why he even bothered with his cousin sometimes. In many ways she was like his little sister and she never hesitated in telling him exactly what she thought of him.

“Sure, sure. That’s why it’s failed. Look I really have to go. They need me on stage. Don’t be a stranger Dandelion!”

The phone line cut off and Jaskier stared at the phone in his hands.

“Oh cock!” He cursed as he realised she was completely right.

He’d been thinking about Geralt.

He closed the lid of the piano with more force than necessary and moved to sit back down on the sofa. He hadn’t meant to think about Geralt. He’d just been thinking about the work he needed to do for school and his thoughts had drifted to his infatuation on their own accord.

As if reading his thoughts, his phone buzzed signalling he had an email.

From Geralt.

“Oh no. No no no. Can’t do this right now.” He moaned and put his head in his hands, knocking his glasses half off his face. “Can’t I have a moment in peace?!” He asked the ceiling.

It was Sunday. He didn’t have to worry about what to say to Geralt until Friday. That was the rules… unless they had a catch up about Ciri but they hadn’t organised another meeting yet. Yes he missed Geralt desperately but he was aware that that was borderline clingy and he didn’t want to scare the man off, and yet here he was emailing Jaskier out of the blue.

It was probably about the present he’d bought Geralt. It wasn’t much, just a voucher for one of the outdoor activity shops in town and a poem he’d written about Roach.

It was terrible.

He hated it.

“Oh fuck off.” Jaskier groaned at his own thoughts and clicked on the email.

 Jaskier,

 Sorry for bothering you. I know you’re busy.

 I wanted to say thank you for my present. I read Roach the poem. She was very impressed.

Jaskier grabbed a pillow from his sofa and hugged it tightly as he continued to read, feeling very proud of himself.

 I am sorry I didn’t think to get you anything from me but hopefully you liked Ciri’s gift.

He had. Ciri had bought him a brand new travel mug. It was covered in music notes just like his mug from the staffroom at school. There had also been a little photo of Roach tucked into the card because Jaskier hadn’t stopped asking Geralt about her.

 I need to ask you something. It would probably be better in person or over the phone. I’m not good at emails.

 - Geralt.

Jaskier re read the last paragraph twice before hitting the reply button.

He sent Geralt his number before he could change his mind and then threw his phone onto the sofa. The phone barely managed to bounce on the cushions before it started ringing and Jaskier lunged to pick it up.

He clicked to accept the call and all at once he felt lighter than he had in weeks.

“Geralt!” He cried happily. “Hi!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s gruff voice answered. Jaskier felt like he’d turned to goo. The way Geralt said his name never failed to make him feel weak at the knees.

Pull yourself together Jaskier! He chided at himself.

“So, my dear, what was it that you wanted to ask me?” He kept his voice light like his fingers on his lute strings, not betraying the way his heart thundered in his chest.

Geralt grunted on the other end of the line and Jaskier rolled his eyes and smiled. How was it that he even missed Geralt’s ineloquent grunts?

“It’s not a stupid question, Geralt.” He replied. “If you don’t know something then you should ask.”

“I’m not one of your kids, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed.

He laughed at that and put the phone on speaker. His fingers were itching to move and he was getting restless not being able to play whilst holding the phone.

“Yes yes. I know that.” He hummed as he let his fingers trail across the many different instrument cases that were stacked up against the wall. They landed on his lute, an instrument long forgotten to many but one that remained so dear to him. He’d originally started to play the lute because it was different and he liked to stand out. Every musician in the folk scene played guitar or violin or piano.

He didn’t want to be like every other musician.

He wanted to be the best.

So he’d pick up the lute and never looked back. It was an expensive and delicate instrument so he tended not to bring it into school that often but he often found himself playing it at home.

It was also a reminder as to why he’d begun teaching full time. At first he’d only taught guitar and piano whilst he was at university in Oxenfurt to help finance his music career and pay for his rent after he had had a disagreement with his parents. The lute was the first instrument he’d bought for himself after the argument, to celebrate having enough students to finally make it through the month without begging his friends for cash and managing to save for the first time.

Soon after he realised how much he really enjoyed teaching and after graduating with a degree in music, he went on to study teaching. He’d worked as a teaching assistant in Oxenfurt before moving to Upper Posada where he finally had his own class, the Buttercups.

“Have you put me on speaker?” Geralt asked.

“Don’t you have sharp ears?” Jaskier teased his friend, he was sure they were friends. “It’s just me here, I just needed my hands.”

“You needed your hands.” Geralt replied and Jaskier could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

“Not like that!” He cried. “Honestly, Geralt, is that really what you think of me?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I just wanted to grab my lute.”

Geralt laughed. “Is that what they call it these days?”

“Geralt Rivia!” Jaskier exclaimed.

Geralt just laughed in response. It was infectious and soon enough Jaskier was laughing along. Once they’d calmed down he began to strum the strings of his beloved instrument gently, fiddling with the pegs to make sure it was in tune.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject, Geralt.” Jaskier spoke softly as Geralt’s laughter faded away.

“Right.”

“Geralt!” He all but whined. “You said you needed to ask me something. Come on! The suspense is killing me.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll finally get some peace.”

“Now hang on!” Jaskier gasped in offence. “You rang me!”

“Regretting it already.”

“I’ll hang up!” Jaskier warned.

“No. You won’t.”

Jaskier sighed. “No. I won’t, but honestly Geralt. Is something wrong? Not that I’m not delighted to be talking to you, but…”

“But you’re Ciri’s teacher.” Geralt finished.

“Yes.”

It was a topic that had come up a few times. They weren’t doing anything wrong exactly. The friendship that had sparked up between them came as natural as breathing. They argued as if they’d known each other their whole lives, an easy banter that was unpracticed and yet almost flawless. Jaskier was fighting his attraction to Geralt the whole time, and he was sure the other man was doing the same with him but there was still this cloud looming over them. The line between professional and appropriate behaviour between parent and teacher.

He knew teachers and parents had hooked up before. It was scandalous and often the topic of vicious rumours in the staffroom. If it was reported to the headmaster and proven those teachers got in a lot of trouble, some of them were often asked to resign. Jaskier knew his professional relationship with Stregobor was rocky at best. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

But he was falling in love with Geralt, hard and fast.

It had moved beyond infatuation the moment he’d sat in the fire engine and they’d began to talk. The more he learnt about the man, the more he fell in love. Geralt was a complex man. He struggled to express himself and he constantly worried about being a good father to Ciri, but he was kind and loyal to his family. He had a surprisingly quick tongue that never failed to make Jaskier cackle. He wasn’t a pushover either, he was strong-willed and relentless in sticking to his own morals.

His determination to be a good man made Jaskier feel all fuzzy inside.

This strong and handsome man was just a gentle giant, one that could absolutely kill him given the chance, but there was just something about Geralt that made Jaskier trust him.

It was probably those eyes.

He adored Geralt’s eyes.

They were so unusual, like swirling pools of amber brought to life by bright beams of dazzling sunlight.

And that was why it was so important that their calls and meetings had to remain professional.

Without the guise of Ciri or work then their friendship was ruined. Jaskier would fall head over heels in love with Geralt and then…

and then…

He’d have to break it off.

He couldn’t risk it.

Even if there was a chance that Geralt fancied him back.

So he constantly reminded himself that they were friends and managed to frame every meeting or conversation they had as a work based thing. It was imperative that he didn’t forget that.

Friends only, and even then he really should be careful. Tissaia was right. Stregobor was just looking for an excuse to get rid of him and if he was shown to be favouring Geralt ,and in turn Ciri, too much then he might as well start looking for a new job.

He closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being a fool.

“So talk to me Geralt.” Jaskier pleaded. “What did you need? Did Ciri say something?”

Geralt just grunted again.

“I told you it’s not stupid.” Jaskier sighed. “It was obviously important to you.”

“It’s for Ciri.” Geralt stated bluntly. All traces of their easy laughter was now gone from his voice.

“Good. I am her teacher, what does she need? Did she say something?” Jaskier’s mind instantly recalled every interaction he’d had with the young ashen-haired girl over the last few days, looking for moments where he might have upset her or said something wrong. He couldn’t think of anything but he could have easily misread the situation.

“We went to Lambert’s for Solstice.” Geralt added.

Jaskier frowned trying to follow Geralt’s train of thought and failing. He stayed silent, waiting for Geralt to find the right words.

“He likes this band and Ciri just started screaming.”

Jaskier felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.

A band.

It wouldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

Barely anyone even listened to his band. They barely had a thousand views online for their most popular song.

“She swears to the gods it’s you, Jask.” Geralt finished.

Jask.

It wasn’t the first time Geralt had called him that. He hated it. It made his heart do weird things in his chest that was not appropriate when talking to a friend.

He took a page out of Geralt’s book and hummed noncommittally. “Right.”

“And then Lambert pointed out Ciri’s Ukulele teacher is called Priscilla just like Dandelion’s bandmate. I thought it was all just a coincidence, but then I realised, Jaskier, Buttercups.” Geralt added, sounding weary. “Dandelions. All flowers.”

“Ah.”

“Jaskier?”

His fingers stilled on the lute strings. He pressed down with the palm of his hand to dampen the resonating sound. “It’s, well, it’s sort of a hobby?”

“You’re Dandelion?” Geralt stammered.

“Hello?” He tried to joke. “Nice to meet you.”

“Fuck.” Geralt swore loudly. “We all told Ciri she was wrong.”

“And now you’ll have to tell her she was right. That’s embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Jaskier scowled. “Hey! None of that grumpy firefighter stuff. It’s not my fault you didn’t trust your daughter!”

Geralt growled and hung up the phone.

Jaskier gaped at the blank screen.

“Oh no you don’t!” He rang Geralt straight back and to his surprise, he actually picked up.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier said before Geralt could say anything. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Hmm.”

“Well. I did mean that’s it not my fault and I don’t know why you’re cross that I have a band, but I shouldn’t have said that about Ciri.” He rambled on.

Geralt still didn’t answer. Jaskier had to check the screen to make sure he was still on the line, quickly putting it back onto speaker. “So I’m sorry. I can explain to her tomorrow at school, about the band. Although, you really should be able to admit your mistakes. I know it’s not always easy.”

“Hold on.” Geralt said and then was a thud. Jaskier assumed that was Geralt putting the phone down. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a door opening. He held his breath whilst Geralt did whatever Geralt needed to do.

He picked his lute back up again and began to play. The notes flowed easily this time, the same tune as before. He grinned and scribbled the notes down onto the coffee stained page of manuscript. He got so caught up in the music he didn’t hear Geralt enter the room on the other side of the line, and this time he wasn’t alone.

“Mr Jaskier?” Ciri sounded exhausted. Geralt had probably just woken her up given the time.

Jaskier blushed and thanked Freya that the young girl couldn’t see him.

Ciri wasn’t supposed to know they’d been talking more outside of school in case she got confused or the wrong idea. Why was Geralt involving her?

Unless the wrong idea… was the right idea?

He swallowed nervously.

“Hello Buttercup!” He put on his best teacher voice, smiling brightly even though she couldn’t see him.

“Dad said you needed to tell me something. That it couldn’t wait.” Ciri asked in a small voice. “Did I do something wrong, Mr Jaskier?”

“Of course not Ciri!” Jaskier reassured her. “Geralt just wanted to ask me about the band your Uncle Lambert likes.”

“In the middle of the night?” Ciri groaned.

“Well…” Jaskier searched for a good explanation.

“It’s not as late for adults.” Geralt suggested.

Which wasn’t entirely true. Jaskier had to be up early for work and he was exhausted from his late night the day before. Geralt would have to up early too to get Ciri to school on time. They both needed to get to bed soon but there wasn’t a better explanation.

“Hmm.” Ciri hummed starting to pick up on some of Geralt’s mannerisms.

“Your father said you thought that Dandelion sounded like me?” Jaskier asked cautiously.

Ciri gasped and squealed excitably. “It sounded exactly like you Mr Jaskier! But everyone else said it was impossible and then Dad said my guitar teacher was called Priscilla and Uncle Lambert said a naughty word and apparently you are Dandelion, which I already knew because I’d already told them it was you and then Dad said a naughty word!”

Jaskier chuckled. “I am, indeed, Dandelion.”

“Of course you are!” Ciri answered completely certain in her assessment.

“But I need you to keep that quiet. Have you told any of your friends yet?” Jaskier asked.

“You have to speak, Ciri, he can’t see you.” Geralt answered softly.

“Nope.”

Jaskier sighed in relief, his band wasn’t exactly child friendly and he didn’t want it getting out that he’d inadvertently taught his whole class how to swear like a sailor. “Can you keep it to yourself, Ciri?”

“Yes, but why?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of a good way to explain. “Umm….”

“The band is something Mr Jaskier does outside of school. It’s good to keep work and play separate, Princess.” Geralt answered for him.

“Will you still play for us?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier laughed. “Of course I will, Ciri. It wouldn’t be Buttercups without song time!”

Ciri seemed to consider that. “Good. Dara likes it. Everyone else assumes he can’t listen to music but he can. Dara said he can hear it through the vibe…vibe—”

“Vibrations?” Jaskier suggested.

“Vibrations!” Ciri agreed “and he can still understand the words. He likes that you don’t treat him differently.”

Jaskier almost sobbed. That was probably one of the sweetest things his kids had ever said to him.

“I’m tired now. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight Mr Jaskier, Goodnight Dad!” He heard Ciri’s footsteps patter away.

“Fuck me.” Jaskier sighed and Geralt chuckled. “She’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Geralt agreed. “I should go too.”

“No hanging up this time?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt hummed in response.

“Goodnight, Geralt. Sleep well.”

“Night, Jaskier.”

Jaskier hit the end call button, his hands shaking in his lap.

“Fuck me…” He repeated under his breath and rubbed his eyes, smearing his glasses.

Geralt Rivia was going to be the death of him, and he would die happy.

______

Next

[matrixaffiliate]

Endeavor

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Chapters 8-14 are Vic's POV, and I promise these chapters are where the fun Tedoire scenes are going to come. Fluff is in sight friends! Our next chapter goes up on September 12th. =)

Chapter 8 

Victoire sat on her bed with her knees up against her chest. She didn't know what else to do.

"Vicky," Dominique stuck her head in. "Maman says it's time for dinner."

"I'll be there in a minute," Vic nodded.

"For someone who just got engaged, you're not as happy as I thought you'd be." Dom leant against the door frame.

"I'm having a rough day is all."

"More like a rough two weeks," Dom flipped her braid over her shoulder. "I still don't understand why you quit working with Uncle Ron."

"I just wanted something more in line with what I want to do." Vic pulled her knees closer to her.

"And what is that?"

Vic dropped her head to her knees. "Nevermind, tell Maman I'm not hungry."

Dom shrugged, "She'll probably come up here then, just warning you."

"Thanks, Dom, I'll take my chances," Vic muttered into her knees.

Vic heard her sister walking down the stairs but surprisingly, she didn't hear her mum coming up.

It was just as well, how would she ever explain to her mum that she'd kissed Ted when she'd just agreed to marry Sean a month earlier? And how would she say how hard it had been not to kiss Ted again? How she'd melted into him? How she still thought about kissing him? How tempting it was to call off her engagement and go running after him?

Vic hoped she would never need to explain it all, but once dinner was done, Fleur wasted no time confronting her daughter.

"Two weeks, ma chérie, two weeks," Vic felt her mum sit down at the foot of her bed. "Pourquoi?"

Vic shook her head against her knees, "I'm just having a rough go of it."

"No," Vic felt her mum shift on the bed, and then her mum's arms were around her shoulders, "No, there is something more, Je le sais."

Vic swallowed hard against the tears that she'd been fighting since Ted had walked away from her for the last time.

"Dîtes-Moi, ma chérie, you'll see, it will all feel a bit better if you do."

"Oh, Maman," Vic felt the tears press through her closed eyes.

"Je t'ai eu, ma chérie," Her mum pulled her closer.

Vic clung to her mum and gave in to the tears. She'd managed to keep them at bay for two weeks. She'd distracted herself by pretending to plan her wedding and pretending to look for a new job. But she couldn't hold them back any longer, and her heartache over everything was suffocating.

"I'm a terrible person!" Vic finally managed to get something other than her hiccuped breathing out.

"No, no, you are not," Fleur brushed Vic's hair back from her forehead. "Why do you say such things?"

"I, I kissed," the words were lodged in her throat and she didn't think she could push past them.

"You kissed?"

Vic felt her chest trying to cave in on itself, trying to create a black hole to suck her into.

"I kissed him, I kissed Ted."

"Ah," Fleur squeezed her arms a little tighter around Vic. "And this is why you turned down Ron when he wanted to make you a part of the new business?"

Vic nodded as the tears returned full force.

"Have you told Sean?"

Vic shook her head violently, "I can't! He'll be so mad!"

Vic felt her mum draw in a long breath and let it out slowly. "Do you know why you kissed Ted?"

"He," Vic bit her lip, "He told me that he loved me, that he'd fallen in love with me over the six months of working together. And I just, when he leant in, Maman I wanted him to kiss me."

She started sobbing again. What was wrong with her? She was in love with Sean...wasn't she?

"What did you say when he said he loved you?" Fleur ran her fingers through Vic's hair, trying to soothe her.

"I didn't know what to say!" Vic cried. "I just kept telling him he was my best friend!"

"Sean is not your best friend?"

Vic shook her head.

Fleur pursed her lips, "Vicky, you know I love you, but if Sean is not your best friend, why are you marrying him?"

"Because, because, I, I guess, I mean, I said yes when he asked..."

"And the boy can't be bothered to set a date to marry you," Fleur's voice had gone hard.

"I, I," Vic's voice cracked and she gave in to the sobs again; because her mum was asking questions she didn't have answers to.

"I am going to write a few things down," Her mum stood and collected a notebook and pen from Vic's desk. "I want you to take some time to think about them."

Vic wiped her eyes on her jumper sleeve, "Maman…"

"Non, ma chérie, first you must find yourself, then the answers will come. I can not give them to you."

Fleur set the pen and notebook at the foot of the bed. "If you get hungry, come down and I'll heat up a plate for you."

Then she kissed Vic on the forehead and slipped out of the room. Vic closed her pen in the notebook before she could look at her mum's writings. She already had a pretty good idea of what it said, and she didn't think she could handle those questions right now.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Vic waited until everyone was off at work and school before she left her room the next day. It was easier to not have everyone trying to cheer her up, or asking about a wedding she didn't even know if she wanted now, or why she wasn't wearing her engagement ring all the time.

She'd taken it off on her drive home that Friday and every time she'd tried to put it back on she felt sick. She didn't deserve to wear it. She didn't deserve to wear something that signified love and commitment.

Vic tried to distract herself from that train of thought with making breakfast, but fate had other plans. Sean's picture lit up her phone screen as his call came through.

"Hi," She tried to animate her voice to sound happier than she felt.

"Hey, Vic, I need a favor. Mike is tricking out the Datsun for me today and I need a lift to my flat after work."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Vic forced a smile. "What time do you need me there?"

"I'm thinking of skiving off early and heading out at three."

"Ok," Vic took a deep breath, "Do you want to get dinner together?"

"Why don't we make something at my place?" Sean's voice was warm, and Vic felt her guilt trying to eat her from the inside out.

"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you at three."

"Thanks," Sean disconnected the call.

Vic looked down at the screen as she gripped her phone tightly. Should she tell him tonight? At least he wouldn't have a car to go anywhere if he was angry. Which meant he wouldn't end up with another speeding citation. That would be good. And he'd have to take an Uber if he wanted to go to a pub. That would also be good. But these good things didn't seem to do anything to ease the anxiety and dread that filled her like bile pushing at the back of her throat.

Breakfast now seemed like an unwise decision.

Vic settled for a cup of tea and retreated to her room again. Her notebook caught her eye and Vic decided there was no way she could feel worse right now, she might as well see what her mum had written down.

Her mum's crisp penmanship was daunting as Vic read the few lines.

You and your desires are important. You are a good person. You are brave. You must decide your life's story.

Vic blinked. None of that was what she'd expected.

Vic had expected more of the questions that she had no answers to. The same questions that ran through her brain constantly. The ones that she could hear distant echoes of the answers, and they were terrifying. And even more terrifying were the questions she wouldn't even allow herself to start to ask, because they held answers that made her lungs collapse and her eyes see stars.

But these four lines were strange. Firstly, because they weren't all true, Vic didn't think a cheating person could also be a good person. And secondly, because they weren't what Vic would have found helpful right now. Right now, she needed to know what to do, not have a list of things her mum thought about her.

Vic tried to put it from her mind and opened up her draft of her book again. If only she really could escape to this world she'd built. She could function there better than she could here, at least she liked to think she could. But who knew, maybe she'd find that she was as much a failure in her own world as she was in the real one. The fact that she could tell something was off with her story only reinforced that feeling. Vic spent the next several hours digging through her notes in her manuscript trying to find what was wrong to no avail. She'd done this a few dozen times before already, and like those previous failed attempts, this time around came up with no improvement.

She'd been planning to see if Ted wanted to read through it for her and try to help her get to the bottom of the story's problem, but that plan was obviously out the window.

When it was time to go, she put the manuscript on the back burner again, took a deep breath as she slid her engagement ring back on her hand, and jumped in her car to collect Sean.

Seeing him waiting by the curb made her stomach hurt.

"Hey," Vic smiled as he climbed in. "Do we need to stop at the market on the way?"

"Change of plans," Sean grinned. "Mike finished early, we need to go grab the Datsun, and then I'm taking her to the track."

Vic blinked.

"Oh, alright, where is Mike's? You've never taken me there."

"You know what, it's hard to get to. Why don't you let me drive?"

Vic gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm sure if you just tell me where to go, I can get us there without any problem."

Sean traced her chin and tipped his sunglasses down this nose. "Come on, don't be that girl."

Vic could feel her guilt trying to eat her stomach while her anger tried to burn through her chest. But rather than let either emotion vent out, she undid her seatbelt.

"There's my girl," Sean kissed her, but Vic pulled back and opened the car door.

"We better hurry so we can get your car to the track. Do you want to get dinner after?"

"That's a good idea, you should grab something and bring it to the track."

Vic stared at him after she climbed in the passenger seat.

"Aren't we going to make dinner at your flat?"

Sean pulled out of the car park.

"I'm going to need to be working out how these upgrades are working out, Vic. This is going to take the rest of the afternoon and most of tonight. Not everyone can work on a '78 510 Coupe and I only let Mike do it because he's a friend. I'm going to have to figure out everything that he's screwed up so I can fix it all this weekend."

"Dinner tonight was your idea," Vic felt her voice going shrill and tried to breathe.

"Yeah, but things changed. I still want to do dinner; I just want to do it at the track now."

Vic tried to ignore how angry she was. She tried to ignore how hurt she was. She tried to tell herself that this was her being selfish, and she needed to take an interest in Sean's interests.

She tried.

But by the time they made it to Mike's garage, she was fuming.

Sean undid his seatbelt and Vic locked the doors before he could get out.

"Why won't you pick a date to marry me?"

"Come on, let's not rehash this again." Sean unlocked his door but Vic hit the power lock button again.

"No! Do you even want to marry me? Why did you ask if you won't set a date?!"

"Vic, I love you," Sean tried to unlock the door again but Vic was faster.

"Then why won't you set a date?" Vic felt her volume increasing but she didn't bother to monitor it.

"Why is this so important to you? What's wrong with being engaged for a few years?"

Vic felt the air sucked out of her lungs.

Sean took advantage of her shock and escaped the car. Vic watched him walk into the garage, her driver's side door still open from where her fiancé had run.

A few years.

Those three words echoed in her mind. Sean wanted to be engaged for a few years before they set a date. Vic was sure there was someone out there who thought that was a good idea, but she was not that someone.

Slowly, she stepped out of the car. Her feet carried her inside where Sean was talking with Mike. She slid the engagement ring off her finger and grabbed his hand.

"I'll leave your key in your flat." She set the ring in his palm and turned on her heels before marching out the door.

"Vic! Wait!"

She didn't wait. And when she got into her car, she saw that Sean wasn't running after her. Just as well, he obviously didn't want to marry her, why would he actually work for this relationship?

Vic felt numb as she drove to Sean's flat. She didn't cry as she loaded all of her things into grocery sacks she'd found. She didn't flinch as she left her key on his bedside table. She didn't bemoan when she closed his door for the last time.

It wasn't until she was driving home that Vic realized she hadn't told Sean that she'd kissed Ted.

The numbness made her brash and she popped in her headset and called him.

He sent her straight to voicemail, which seemed to solidify Vic's resolve. If he couldn't be bothered with her call then she wouldn't be bothered to tell him this properly.

"Hey, I was going to tell you tonight that I kissed someone that wasn't you a couple of weeks ago. I don't think that matters much now since you didn't want to marry me, but I felt like you should know."

She hung up and suddenly hot angry tears started falling down her face. Her sobbing came in short gasps and Vic had to pull the car to the side of the road because she couldn't see through her tears.

It was all so messed up!

Why had she even been with Sean? Why had she put up with all the things that drove her mad for so long? Why hadn't she been brave enough to get out of the relationship when she'd first realized she was unhappy? Why had she tried to convince herself she was happy?

But what hurt worse than anything else was that in all of this mess, she'd lost Ted, she'd lost her best friend.

When she'd finally cried herself out, Vic drove home. First, she went through and slowly removed all traces of her and Sean together. She deleted every picture of them together. She pulled down every mention of him in every post. She unfollowed, unfriended, and blocked him on every platform. Then she took her wedding binder, pictures of her and Sean that she'd printed off, and everything that reminded her of him and threw it all into the fireplace. She sat on the floor with her knees against her chest and watched the flames slowly smolder everything she'd wanted to destroy.

"Vicky?"

Vic looked up at her dad's concerned face.

"It's over," she sniffed, "and you were right."

Bill was instantly on the floor next to Vic, his strong arms holding her close.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Why am I so stupid?" Vic curled into her dad's embrace and let the tears fall again.

"You aren't stupid. We all have moments like these."

"You don't," Vic sniffed. "You do everything right."

Bill laughed. "Victoire, look at my face and my arms. That motorcycle accident before I married your mum was me being brash. I went for a ride on the beach without my helmet, and I over judged a corner. I'm lucky I only ended up with the scars. Trust me, Vic, I'm far from perfect."

"You didn't get engaged to someone you had been trying to convince yourself you loved."

"No, but you figured it out and called it off," Bill squeezed her shoulders.

"Did Maman tell you what I said last night?" Vic figured her dad would be disappointed in her for what she'd done. She had been avoiding him for fear of what he'd think.

"She did, and I can see where you were coming from."

Vic's head shot up, "What?"

"Well, when someone isn't loved by the person kissing them, it makes sense that when a different person comes along who does love them and does treat them the way they deserve, that they'd be inclined to kiss that new person."

Vic curled further in on herself, "It wasn't fair to Ted, though."

"No," Bill stroked her back, "but I would take some time to figure out how you really feel before you go running back to Ted."

"Ted's great!" Vic defended.

Bill chuckled, "He may be, but you just called off your engagement, Vicky, and you quit your job. Take some time to sort out what you want your life to look like before you go jumping into anything, especially a relationship."

Vic rested her head against her dad's chest and nodded.

"Alright," Vic sighed as the flames turned the last of the items in the fireplace into black charcoal. "I'll take some time to figure myself out."

Bill kissed the top of her head.

"You've got this, Vicky, I know you do."

And for the first time in months, Vic thought maybe she might be able to at least do one or two things right.

[carryonmylovelies]

A Lively Game

hi hi! this is for the carry on quarantine round robin that the super cool and very gucci @xivz put together and i really really appreciate it because signing up for this literally forced me to get some writing done and it was actually FUN to write so thank youuuuu. 

rating: M (there’s a LOT of swearing … you’ll see ;))

word count: 1,500+

prompt: ‘Board Game’

read here on ao3!!

***

“Shepard! Penny! C’mere for a sec,” Simon yelled from the living room.

Shepard paused the show on his phone and poked his head out from the kitchen. “Sup?”

Penny’s door then swung open and she, too, poked her head out. “Yeah?”

“I’m bored as shit and Baz isn’t paying attention to me so let’s play a game or something!” 

Shepard grabbed the chips he had been snacking on off the counter and headed into the living room, nodding. “Yeah, sounds good. What are our options?”

Penny came up behind Shepard and snatched the chips away from him before flopping down in the plush armchair next to the couch. “The games are in there,” Penny pointed, “but Simon puts them away so horribly that they’ll probably all fall out and attack you the second you try to open it. Be warned, Shepard.” 

Simon tried to defend himself but Penny just looked at him. His mouth snapped close. Shepard smiled as he crouched down and opened the small cabinet that was underneath the coffee table in the living room, snorting when he saw how unorganized and crammed together the games were.

They were going on week three of the ‘Stay at Home’ quarantine crisis and even with four young adults stuffed into an apartment really only meant for two, they were trying to make the best of it. Penny and Baz still had online assignments for their uni classes and Simon was working through recipes for culinary school, which resulted in a lot of weird but strangely tasty meals, all things considered. Shepard was supposed to be on his way home to Omaha but with all the corona-craziness and risk of infection, he really didn’t want to get on an international flight and chance bringing anything back to his parents. So. 

“Uh let’s see, you guys have Jenga, Battleship–”

Simon yawned, “Ehh I’m too lazy to set up the tower and I want all four of us to play so Battleship’s a no.”

Simon was hanging upside down, legs bent over the top of the couch, trying to bother Baz who was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. Simon poked Baz’s cheek with his tongue and snickered when Baz made a face and distractedly tried to push the other boy away, continuing to type on his laptop.

Shepard kept reading off games, “Scrabble, Twister–”

“Yes! Twister!” said Simon excitedly, a huge grin on his bright red face as he sat up and immediately tried to shake the dizziness away. 

And at the exact same time Penny shuddered and said, “No, absolutely not,” looking thoroughly grossed out. 

Shepard’s interest was piqued. There had to be a story there. 

“Why no Twister?” Shepard asked, looking from Penny to Simon.

Without looking up from his laptop, Baz snorted. 

Penny glared at Baz, who still wasn’t paying attention, and then at Simon who was now perched on the arm of the couch with his arms crossed, pouting. 

Penny directed her gaze back to Shepard, glasses glinting in the afternoon light. “Well, Shepard,” she said, matter-of-factly, “in the past three times I have allowed Twister to be played in this flat, our friends Simon and Basil here take it upon themselves to play seriously until one or both of them are in a very compromising position and then they immediately give up and get halfway to shagging on the bloody Twister mat.”

Shepard burst out laughing and then slapped a hand to his mouth, trying and failing to muffle the sound as Penny narrowed her eyes irritatedly. 

“It’s not funny, Shepard! This is a communal living space that needs to be respected and not defiled when those two horny arseholes decide to make a bloody children’s game extremely inappropriate!”

Shepard was still laughing as he looked over at Simon who was scowling at Penny, flushed red in embarrassment. Baz appeared more or less unaffected as he continued to work but with most of his hair pulled into a messy bun atop his head, Shepard could see the tips of his ears had gone pink. 

“Come on, Pennyyyyyy,” Simon whined with pleading eyes, “We haven’t played in forever and now Shepard’s here so we can play even rounds! And I promise me ‘nd Baz will keep our hands to ourselves this time, right Baz?” Simon nudged Baz’s shoulder with his foot and looked at him expectantly. 

Baz finally looked up from his laptop, met his boyfriend’s stare, and then raised his eyebrows doubtfully, as if to say yeah right.  

Simon made an indignant sound and pushed Baz again with his foot but Baz just shook his head and went back to his assignment. “I’m staying out of this.”

Penny scoffed and pointed an accusatory finger, “You’re 50% of the problem, Basil, you can’t just ‘stay out of it’.”

Baz smirked at his screen, grey eyes bright with amusement. He knocked his elbow against Simon’s calf. “Bunce doesn’t seem to be budging on this one, Snow. Best to drop it.” 

Simon huffed and let himself fall onto the couch with a wumph. His face was squished in the cushions so his words came out muffled. “Ugh, fine. Whatever. We’ll play something else.” 

Baz clicked a few things on his laptop, closed it, and set it down on top of the coffee table. 

“Prat,” Baz said fondly before grabbing Simon’s leg and yanking, hard. Simon yelped and fell off the couch, landing in Baz’s open arms. Simon adjusted himself so he was sitting upright in Baz’s lap, mumbled something about ‘stupid vampire strength’, and then happily slid his arms around Baz’s neck. 

Baz kissed a curl on Simon’s forehead and then loudly addressed the room, “If Bunce says no to Twister with her and Shep, then I suppose Simon and I will have to play Twister later tonight, in our room, when everyone’s trying to sleep.” 

Simon scolded Baz while failing to keep a cheeky smile off his face, Penny made puking noises, and Shepard laughed so hard that he started choking on the chip he was eating. 

“Ugh,” Penny groaned, burying her hands in her purple hair, “you two are disgusting. And you’re killing Shepard, so I really hope you’re proud of yourselves. Both of your game choosing privileges have been revoked.” 

Simon turned and looked at Penny with wide eyes, “What? How is that fair? Baz said it, not me.”

Penny just sighed. “Remember when I said that Baz was 50% of the problem? Guess who’s the other 50%?”

“… I don’t want to guess.”

“Exactly.”

Shepard clumsily sat down on the floor and managed to swallow the chip that almost sent him to a premature grave. He wheezed, “So who’s picking the game then?”

“You pick something, Shepard,” Penny replied, exasperated. “Something that’ll give me the chance to make these barmy gits wish they had never disgraced my poor Twister mat.” 

Shepard pushed up his glasses and grinned. “I know the perfect game.”

***

“Change it to green, change it to green, change it to gr– AW FUCK YOU AND YOUR BLOODY FUCKING MOTHER THAT WAS STINKING BOLLOCKS!”

“Did-did you just reverse my bloody fucking reverse? Penny, what the fuck is WRONG with you?”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and uh, FUCK YOU.”

“Oh you wanna skip my turn? I KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP, BUCKO.”

“DUDE, WHAT THE ACTUAL CLOWN ASS FUCKERY WAS THAT? I ONLY HAD ONE CARD 

LEFT, JESUS CHRIST.”

“No, no, no, no, NO I WILL NOT DRAW 4 BLEEDING CARDS IN MY OWN HOME, YOU MANKY MUPPET.”

“I hate you, Shepard. No, I really do.” 

“Merlin’s shit-stained arsehole, how could you change it to blue? How could you? What did I ever do to deserve this level of hatred and betrayal from the man I LOVE?”

“Simon, I am terribly sorry to inform you that you will not be living past the age of 22.”

“YES I KNOW IT’S MY TURN; I’M DRAWING BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANY YELLOW CARDS YOU DISGUSTING RAT WANKER.”

“That was absolute piss. PISS, BASILTON.”

“Shit. Fuck. Bitch.” 

“THAT’S IT; I’M KICKING YOU OUT. GO BACK TO THE UNITED STATES OF FUCKING AMERICA FOR ALL I CARE.” 

“I’m going to murder you with your favorite kitchen knife. YOU THINK I WOULDN’T SIMON SNOW? SKIP MY TURN AGAIN, I DARE YOU.” 

“That was a bitch move.”

“Keep it red, keep it red, oh for the love of Crowley keep– OI YOU LOOKING FOR A FUCKING FIGHT? STAND UP AND FIGHT ME AND I’LL PUT YOUR ARSE RIGHT BACK ON THE GROUND, YA BARMY FUCK.”

“Penelope–and please know I mean this with absolute full offense–fuck you.” 

“TYRANNUS BASILTON GRIMM PITCH IF YOU PUT DOWN ANOTHER DRAW FOUR I’M BREAKING UP WITH YOU.”

“You. Are. A. HUGE. Prick.”

“BRO, YOU DID NOT JUST–OH MY FUCKING GOD BRO YOU DID NOT JUST HIT ME WITH A DRAW TWO I–”

“Morgana’s gigantic fucking TITS I WILL END YOUR ENTIRE BLOODLINE.”

“Oh I am SO breaking up with you.”

“SON OF A WEASEL FUCKER.”

It was a very lively game of Uno, to say the least.

***

i can confidently say from experience that uno games with friends DO get that crazy … especially considering those four have all been stuck in an apartment together for almost three weeks … there would definitely be blood. also i thought that it would be more fun to just get the profanity-laced dialogue rather than a play-by-play of the game so!! hope it was fun to read! <3

@bazypitchandsimonsnow was super supportive, as always, (love ya theo) and i definitely couldn’t have done it without @lifeasafail encouraging and comforting my anxious dumbass. she even SANG to me while i was editing omfg i love her so much. 

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 11

this old heart darlin’ is weak for you

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 10 | read on ao3

1911

 i love you

this old heart darlin’ is weak for you

Their holiday was a welcome break from their usual busy lives and while they’d both missed Mia terribly, they had to admit that it was nice not having to look after a toddler all day.

The next week was a complete blur. Riza’s teaching classes could be done from home. She had to attend the East City University in the morning to collect her paperwork for the day, which was a welcome exercise because the walk to the university meant Riza could give Mia her mid-morning nap. Then, she had two days to complete whatever she’d been given by her professor. It was a system that worked and Riza just hoped it always would. 

At this pace she’d be a qualified teacher in two years. It was an exciting concept. Riza loved Mia, but she didn’t want to be a stay at home mother her whole life. She became restless after being in their apartment for too long, longing to go out and see what the city had to offer her that day. Riza wanted to learn and explore. There was so much knowledge out there in the world and so many places to see. Riza, now with the freedom she’d craved her whole childhood, wanted to see it all. Taking Mia along for the ride made it even more enjoyable.

The weekend after their short getaway, they found themselves in East City Town Hall, at a military ball. Roy was required to go and Riza was interested to see what this kind of party was about. She expected there to be stuck up big wigs in the military parading about with their medals, and Roy told her she wouldn’t be far off. It was a lot of sucking up to the higher echelon of the military, and the thought left a sour taste in Riza’s mouth. She’d heard some stories from Roy when he’d been venting after work. The higher ups didn’t seem to be particularly pleasant company to keep.

“They’re not,” Roy told her, buttoning up his shirt in the mirror in their bedroom. “But I have to go. Having you there would make the whole experience infinitely better. Plus, everyone is dying to meet you.”

“Everyone?” Riza asked, raising an eyebrow while she secured the necklace around her neck. She didn’t normally wear jewellery however Roy had been very sweet and surprised her with the necklace as a gift this morning. He’d bought it for her to wear to the ball, and she couldn’t turn it down. It was beautiful, but simple in design. Just how she liked things. It was a spontaneous gift from Roy and that was all it took for her to love it.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Everyone in the team is convinced you aren’t real and that I’m making you up.”

“Why?” she asked, amused.

Roy shrugged, then grinned. “I don’t think they believe that I could’ve ever secured a woman as lovely as you.” He kissed her temple as he passed, brushing his hand along her waist gently as he entered their bathroom and closed the door.

“The feeling is mutual, by the way.”

There was a pause, then the sound of the toilet flushing. After he’d washed his hands, Roy’s head poked out the door as he dried them on a towel. “You don’t believe in how amazing you are?”

Riza shook her head with a fond smile. “No. Well, yes, but not the point I was trying to make. I don’t believe how lucky I am to have fallen in love with you,” she clarified.

“Don’t ever think you’re not the most incredible person on the planet.” He hung up the towel before approaching. He gripped her waist gently while Riza wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. “And I’m the same. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.”

Chris was in town for the weekend to visit, so she’d taken Mia off their hands to spend some time with her granddaughter. Mia adored Chris Mustang, which was strange given the latter’s personality, however she was a completely different person with Mia. She loved her granddaughter unconditionally, and it showed in everything she did for her. Riza’s stomach dropped when she saw just how many gifts Chris had bought for Mia for this visit. In her mind, she mentally searched their apartment for where they’d store them all.

A taxi took them to the Town Hall. It was a subdued ride. Roy chatted with the driver while Riza gazed into the streets of East City. It wasn’t often she got to drive anywhere in the city. Whenever her and Roy went out, they always walked. It was mesmerising to watch the lights flash by as they flew along the road.

“Hey, boss!” a portly ginger man greeted them from afar. He called across the room towards them, offering Roy a wave. A blonde head popped up above everyone else, scanning the room for Roy. Upon spotting them, his eyes widened and his head ducked. He disappeared from view.

“Come on,” Roy urged, steering Riza towards the members of his team. Nerves tickled her stomach as they approached as it always did when she was introduced to someone new. Roy had stated there were four people in his team, so meeting four new people made it slightly worse.

“Hey!” the first man greeted enthusiastically with a wide grin. He glanced over to the blonde man beside him while wearing a rather smug look on his face, then turned his attention back to them both.

“Hey, Breda,” Roy greeted before turning to face her. “This is Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda,” he introduced, gesturing towards the ginger man. Lieutenant Breda grinned and offered Riza his hand, which she took.

“Nice to meet you,” Riza smiled.

“Likewise, Mrs. Mustang,” he beamed. The title was far too formal for her liking, but from the glint in his eye, Riza guessed it was for the benefit of the blonde man who was glaring at him. She glanced between them both, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow at their antics.

“Please, just call me Riza,” she offered. The smirk dropped from his face, and Lieutenant Breda’s smile was genuine this time.

“Of course.”

“This,” Roy announced, moving onto the next member of his team, gesturing to the blonde man who snapped out of his glare hurriedly. “Is Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. Don’t mind the glare or sullen look,” Roy added smoothly, making direct eye contact with Lieutenant Havoc. “He’s probably lost a bet with Breda over something. Ignore him.”

“Hey,” he muttered quietly but indignantly.

“This is Warrant Officer Vato Falman.” A grey-haired man took her hand and shook it firmly. Before being introduced his face had been a picture of seriousness, but now he smiled at Riza warmly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

“And this is Sergeant Kain Fuery.” The last member of the team looked young – almost too young – with black hair styled in a boyish look. His glasses rose as a smile overtook his whole face. It lit up the room with its warmth, and Riza took a liking to the young man.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Ma’am,” he greeted enthusiastically. She liked Sergeant Fuery. He seemed very sweet.

“Likewise, to all of you.”

“What would you like to drink?” Roy asked her.

“A wine would be lovely, thank you.”

“I’ll get it, Ma’am,” Lieutenant Havoc interrupted. He looked slightly sheepish, and she supposed this was his way of making it up to them over whatever had stirred up the one-sided glaring match between him and Lieutenant Breda. “Don’t worry about it, Boss. I’ll be right back.”

“That was… Unexpected,” Roy stated, blinking after Lieutenant Havoc.

Lieutenant Breda snorted. “Havoc didn’t believe you’d actually married someone. He was convinced it was fake. A whole scam,” he chuckled. “It would’ve been elaborate if it had been, however, I don’t think you’re that smart to pull it off.”

“Hey,” Roy frowned indignantly.

Lieutenant Breda shrugged, but his grin remained.

“It’s a likely conclusion Breda arrived at, Sir,” stated Warrant Officer Falman. “It would require a whole lot of planning and backtracking that even a normal person would struggle and fail completely with it.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Sergeant Fuery interrupted their conversation, drawing Riza’s attention away from her husband and his two colleagues. “They do this all the time. It’s all good fun.” Riza found herself smiling.

Sergeant Fuery gave off a very “little brother” vibe, and Riza felt the pull towards it. She thought he would be someone she’d get on well with. She wasn’t quite so sure about the other three yet, but wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. She’d give Lieutenants Havoc and Breda the benefit of the doubt. Warrant Officer Falman seemed perfectly cordial and friendly though, like Sergeant Fuery. He seemed very intelligent, and Riza wondered if they would have any deep and interesting conversations at any point. Roy wasn’t unintelligent by any means, but his focus was alchemy and military strategy and that was it. He had no interest in subjects that weren’t a science. Riza was fascinated by the world, and often wondered aloud why things were the way they were. If Roy had an answer, he would tell her, but the beauty of the world lost some of its wonder when a scientific theory had been applied to it. Riza was undeterred though. She still loved that about him. She’d often sit and watch the cogs work in his head as he tried to figure something out, or how he passionately described how something worked. She’d find herself falling in love with him all over again.

Lieutenant Havoc returned with their drinks and offered them to her and Roy. He gave her an apologetic smile as he approached. “Sorry for the glare earlier. I hope you didn’t think it was directed at you.”

Riza shook her head. “Not at all.”

Lieutenant Havoc let out a sigh of relief, and Riza found herself smiling behind her glass, amused. Bless him. “Okay, good. Breda can be an asshole sometimes and likes to rub it in my face when he wins.”

“What did he win?” Riza asked innocently. It was comical the way his face fell. Lieutenant Havoc glanced towards her briefly, then away, swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat nervously.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, turning her away from the rest of the group. He placed a hand on her shoulder, walking a few steps away. She resisted the urge to shrug it off and went with him, too intrigued to pass the opportunity up.

“Havoc?” Roy called behind them. The hand left her shoulder, and Riza watched as he waved Roy off irritably. This was still very entertaining to Riza. It was adorable the way Lieutenant Havoc’s face had turned slightly pink in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll start with that,” Lieutenant Havoc stated. He downed his drink – it looked like whisky – and placed the glass not so gently on the table next to them. He looked incredibly nervous, and like he didn’t want to offend her. “But Breda and I made a bet that Mustang had made you up.”

“Oh?” Riza asked, raising an eyebrow. She only just managed to hide her smile by taking another drink. Who would have the time to craft an entirely fictional wife and child, and then have the patience to maintain that for a year and a half?

“Yeah.” Lieutenant Havoc coughed to clear his throat. “I’m sorry. He never really mentioned you, but we saw a wedding photo. I thought it was some wife he’d lost years ago. From the way he’d handled it, it certainly seemed that way.”

Now that was interesting. Just how did Roy handle their wedding photo in the office?

“What do you mean?” she asked before she could think, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hadn’t meant to ask out loud, but she was interested to know the kind of person Roy was at work around these men.

Lieutenant Havoc shifted on the spot. “Oh. Well, uh, he would always be so careful with it. He would never show anyone and wouldn’t bring it up, but I caught him a few times smiling at it when he was alone.” Lieutenant Havoc paused and shot her a genuine smile. “I must say, Ma’am, from the way he smiles at that photo, he loves you a lot.”

Riza felt warmth spread across her whole entire body. A smile slowly spread across her face, and she nodded. “I feel the same way about him.”

Lieutenant Havoc grinned. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re real and still among the living.”

Riza chuckled at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant Havoc.”

“Just Havoc, Ma’am,” he grinned.

“Then it’s just Riza for me too.” His grin was infectious. She liked him. He was a bit of a goofball, he didn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was open and honest. Plus, if Roy had hand picked him, then he must be loyal. From the way he spoke, Riza could tell Havoc had a lot of respect for Roy. That was probably why he’d apologised to her immediately. Riza could respect that about him.

“What are you two talking about?” Roy asked with a grin, announcing his approach. Havoc stiffened slightly and Riza smirked to herself.

“Oh, nothing,” she waved off. “I was just telling Havoc about one of my lovely single friends that might be interested in him.”

Riza snorted, unable to hold in her laugh, when she saw Havoc’s spine straighten even further. His cheeks turned a light colour of pink.

“Wow, relax, Havoc. It’s a woman, not an eight-foot crocodile.”

“Excuse me,” Havoc muttered, shooting a glare at Roy, who just laughed at his misfortune.

“It was about the bet, wasn’t it?” Roy stated, slinging an arm around her shoulder. They walked towards the dance floor, Riza noticed. Excitement coursed through her veins at the thought she’d be able to dance with Roy again. It was one of her favourite past-times, being held close in his arms as they swayed together.

“It was, yes. Poor guy was genuinely apologetic. I respect that though.”

“Havoc’s the kind of guy that will bet on anything – and I mean anything – so it didn’t surprise me. I want to address that though –”

There was the quiet tinkling of someone hitting glass, followed by an announcement that dinner was about to be served.

“Ah,” Roy smiled at her. “After dinner then.”

Dinner was beautiful. The food was exquisite, and Riza was thankful that the company at the table was solely the men in Roy’s team. They bantered back and forth, which was captivating. Riza laughed so much during dinner that it took her an age to finish her meal. They were good men, and Riza was glad they all had Roy’s back. She often worried about him at work, going out on field missions and the like. It made her feel better to know these men were looking out for him.

They were incredibly loyal to him, and now, by extension, her. Havoc had announced that quite loudly – he was on the way to getting very drunk – and the rest of the team agreed, raising their glasses in a toast. Roy had just beamed at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze under the table. She supposed this was what he’d wanted all along – for them all to meet and get along so well. The fact she’d been so readily included in this little group made her happier than anyone would probably ever understand. She’d been on her own for so long as a child, then Roy came along and lit up her life. However, it had just been the two of them. Now, she had a plethora of people around her who were happy and willing to look out for her. It was a wonderful feeling.

On the dancefloor Roy twirled her around effortlessly. She felt like she was flying in his arms. She could dance, but he was much better at it than her. He’d taught her when they were growing up together, in stolen moments away from her father’s oppressive presence. It was a welcome reprieve from her monotonous evenings of cooking and cleaning up after Roy and her father.

“I love you,” Riza murmured as a smile spread across her face. Her arms were looped behind his neck, her fingertips playing with strands of his hair.

A loving smile broke out across Roy’s face. His eyes softened and he bent low to capture her lips with his own. She sighed into his kiss, embracing the love he showed her. “I love you too.”

The memory of Havoc’s confession floated through her mind at that moment, broadening her smile.

“I must say, ma’am, from the way he smiles at that photo, he loves you a lot.”

“What?” Roy asked, noting how big her smile was.

“Nothing. I’m just happy to be with you.”

Roy hummed in agreement. He shifted his stance so that her body was pressed against his. Their cheeks rested against each other and when Roy spoke, his breath tickled her ear. It felt divine.

“I’m glad you’re here. These balls are always so boring.”

“You’ve been to more than one?” she asked, curious. She tried to think back to when he may have brought it up before but couldn’t find anything in her memory.

“Well, just one. It was after coming home from Ishval. It was a “celebration” of the war being over. It… Well, it wasn’t enjoyable in the slightest. Most of the time, Hughes and I just people watched. It was thrilling to watch the amount of ass kissing that went down that night. There were so many brown noses.”

Riza snorted, hard. She felt Roy laugh, the sound reverberating through her own body.

“It was nowhere near as good as tonight has been.”

Silence enveloped them, but it was Riza who broke it.

“I’m curious…” 

Roy hummed in reply. 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about me?” 

Roy met her gaze. 

“I’m just wondering,” she reassured him.

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer. “At first, I was told not to trust anyone by General Grumman. He’s kind of become my mentor over the years.” Riza resisted the urge to react to the news. She wasn’t even sure if Roy knew the General was her grandfather.

Was he here tonight? Riza wasn’t sure if she was ready to deal with that interaction just yet. She’d been told as a child there was bad blood between her grandfather and her father, so they cut ties and moved away. How would the General feel, knowing his granddaughter had married someone working so closely with him?

“So, I didn’t and kept my cards close to my chest. I know I can trust the boys, but everyone else…” His face screwed up. “There’s a very small pool of people that I can trust in East City Headquarters.”

“That sounds very paranoid, Roy.”

“With you on the line, I’m very paranoid about this kind of thing.”

Riza thought he’d be joking, even just a little bit, but when she pulled back to look at his face, she saw his expression was serious. While she was glad, it didn’t sit well with her. It spoke of danger.

“But,” Roy continued. “It’s been a few years and Grumman has filled me in on who’s best to avoid and who can be trusted. I became more comfortable with the idea. I never denied it when people asked, but I didn’t want to project it, just in case. Plus, I’m not Maes Hughes, screaming about my family every two seconds,” he chuckled. “I don’t want to irritate people so much they began to hate me,” he winked.

“No, and I don’t blame you,” Riza agreed with an amused smile.

Roy wasn’t one for making grand gestures for her in front of an audience, and that was because he knew she’d hate the attention on her like that. And if no one at his work knew he was married, that didn’t matter to her really. She’d just been curious. He showed her, and her alone, how he felt about her. Everyone else didn’t matter, so long as she knew how much he loved her.

“I’m proud, in a way, that you played it so smartly.”

“Yeah?” Roy asked, seemingly surprised at her admission.

She nodded. “Like you said, ‘with my family on the line, I’d be very paranoid too.’” Her voice dropped in volume, causing Roy to press his cheek gently back against hers so he could hear her. “What you’re planning on doing is dangerous, and while I don’t like it for obvious reasons, I’d never hold it against you. After what you went through and seeing how it has affected you, I don’t want it to happen to anyone again either.”

Roy pulled away. She was trapped in his eyes, but Riza didn’t mind. She never would when it came to him. Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a rush, her decision made.

“You’ve got a good, solid, team behind you. I see that, now. It makes it less frightening for me, knowing you have this support behind you,” she admitted. “Before, in my mind, it was you against the whole world, and it was terrifying. But I see now that there are a lot of people who support you. Not just the core team. I’ve overheard others talking tonight, at the bar and around the room. Some people here really like you, Roy. They look up to you, and it soothes my nerves a little to know that there’s a lot of people who have your back. It’s not just me doing all the work,” she smiled wryly.

“Yes, but you do the best job out of everyone,” he murmured as he hugged her close to his chest. Smiling, she patted his back twice, affectionately, as he gave her body a tight squeeze.

Her hand found its way to his cheek when he pulled back. His eyes poured out with love for her, and it thrilled her to see it.

“Of course, I do the best job,” she replied, as if it was obvious. It made him laugh, a grin playing over his lips.

“You really do. Maybe I didn’t bring you up before because I wanted to keep you all to myself,” he grinned cheekily. “Since you do such a good job, after all.”

Riza stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh again, but louder this time. His head tipped back slightly. It truly was a beautiful sight seeing Roy so carefree and happy. He deserved it.

The rest of the night was perfect. During the fast songs they took a break to return to the table with the men. They were greeted each time with enthusiasm and joy. She was goaded into telling them how she and Roy met. She kept some parts out. Her childhood experience was still very raw within her, and she didn’t feel like dragging the past back up. That was firmly behind her. The only thing that had been worth keeping from it had been Roy, and she was eternally thankful that she had.

Fuery – they’d all insisted on Riza calling them by their last names rather than their titles – asked what their wedding ceremony was like. Falman asked to see the ring, complimenting her stone and band, stating they were the perfect combination. Havoc bought them a round of drinks to celebrate their wedding, despite it being over two years ago. His reasoning was they’d all missed it, so now was as good a time as ever to make up for it. Breda agreed wholeheartedly and staggered after Havoc to order the drinks with them. As they walked, they slung their arms around each other’s shoulders, slapping each other on the back amicably.

They were a good bunch, these boys, and Riza was officially initiated as “one of the team” that night.

Rebecca finally found her shortly after their “wedding toast”.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, flopping down into the chair next to Riza. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you been?” she accused.

“Right here,” she smiled. Rebecca was slightly drunk, her cheeks pink and flushed from the alcohol, but she wasn’t fully drunk. Riza had seen her drunk a few times, and this wasn’t it. This was “merry Rebecca” – the Rebecca who had no filter and no shame. Riza had envied her confidence from day one and strived to be as good as her someday. Since meeting the brunette, it had done wonders for her confidence. It was freeing, and Riza was very thankful. Rebecca had also taken Riza to the East City HQ shooting range, smuggling her in late at night like they were a couple of teenagers. Riza had learned to shoot in the forests outside her home as a child, and she was pleased to see that she hadn’t lost her touch over the years.

Rebecca had done so much for Riza since they’d met, and tonight may just be the night she repayed her big time. It might not, however it was worth taking the risk. Plus, she deserved a little fun.

“Have you met Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc?” Riza asked, gesturing towards the blonde man who was slouched in his chair at the table. He smirked over at her, upon hearing his name, but he froze when he spotted Rebecca.

“No, I haven’t,” Rebecca stated slowly, eyeing him carefully.

“Havoc, this is my friend, Rebecca. The lovely lady I was telling you about earlier?”

Rebecca snorted. “Lovely,” she muttered underneath her breath, as if offended to be referred to in such a way.

“Uh, yeah. I remember.” He seemed to have sobered up rather quickly, Riza noticed, amused. He sat up straighter in his chair, like a bird preening at the prospect of a mate.

“I’m anything but a lady tonight, my friend,” she stated boldly, rising from her chair and striding over to Havoc. He watched her like a deer caught in the headlights.

Riza snickered when she noticed Rebecca had put extra sway into her hips as she walked. “And have you been talking about me, Riza Mustang?” she accused good naturedly, casting her eyes back over her shoulder.

“You said you wanted to find yourself a good man,” she shrugged with a grin.

“You,” she commanded Havoc. “Come with me.”

“What?” he asked, looking quite terrified.

Rebecca grasped him by his biceps and lifted Havoc from the chair. He yelped, almost falling over in his haste. Then, with a coy look over her shoulder and a wink, she dragged him over to the dance floor.

“God, help him,” Roy stated, taking up the chair beside her, the one Rebecca had just vacated.

Riza chuckled. “I agree. He’ll have his hands full with that one.”

“It’ll be good for him,” Roy stated, as if he was a proud parent watching his child go on their first date. “Either way, it will be character building.”

Riza snorted. “Rebecca can be lethal. I hope he’s strong enough for it.”

“He’s a good man,” Roy stated, his tone taking on a surprising sincerity after all their joking. “He’ll be good for her, I think.”

It certainly seemed that way, because not even half an hour later, Riza spotted the two of them slipping out the ballroom, hand in hand. Riza grinned when she spotted it. She was happy for her friend. Havoc seemed like her type – tall, handsome, and probably with some cash to play about with. He was a military man, so that was a given.

That would be a conversation for later.

All in all, it was a wonderful night. They took a taxi home, more than buzzed from the alcohol. Both Roy and Riza whispered and giggled to each other in the back like a couple of teenagers. With excitement in his eyes, Roy led her up to their apartment with a grin, his hand gripping hers tightly as they ran up the stairs. Once inside, Riza locked the apartment door in anticipation, only to be backed up against it. Roy’s kisses were feverish as he slipped her jacket off her shoulders. Riza gave him the same treatment, ridding him of his tuxedo jacket and leaving it to fall in a heap on the floor. It was expensive, as all his clothes were, but Riza didn’t think he’d care. Not right now.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, bumping against the walls and breaking apart to laugh. It made Riza feel young again. It was like they were newlyweds on their honeymoon.

Roy held her close as they drifted off, both spent. Riza gripped his hand tightly, smiling down at their joined hands.

“I love you,” he murmured sleepily into her hair. Riza smiled, feeling sleep tug at her tired body, enticing it into unconsciousness. If she gave in, her only regret would be cutting this beautiful moment short. She wanted to live in it forever.

“I love you too, Roy. So much that it leaves me breathless sometimes.” Her admission was bolder than usual, but it was the truth. It came right from her heart. The alcohol had managed to pry it out of her grasp, and Riza was glad. At that moment, it was something she wanted him to know.

Roy hummed happily behind her, adjusting his grip on her waist, tugging her tightly against him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What about Mia?” she yawned, letting out a quick laugh.

“That angel is the light of my life,” he stated, his speech broken as he began to drift off. “But you are the warmth.”

Riza smiled and settled back against him. His breathing evened, signalling he was asleep.

“And you are mine.”

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

libera nos a malo Chapter 4: The Victory of Pyrrhus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 4/20

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

<< chapter three+

chapter five+ >>

“You’ve done very well today, Miss Miranda,” pronounced Healer A’isha as she ran her wand over Miranda’s body and studied the translucent diagnostic image that superimposed itself on Miranda’s skin as she did. “I am very pleased with what I see here.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without Severus dogging me,” replied Miranda with a wry smile, trying not to look at the sickening sight of her color-coded internal organs on display for the room to see. The examination table she was lying on was making her shiver, even as the acrid smell of the hospital room made her stomach churn. Severus seemed to sense her discomfort, silently taking one of her trembling hands and lacing his fingers through hers while the Healer did her poking and prodding. Like many people, Miranda hated anything resembling a hospital, and it bothered her how quickly being in one reduced her to a mass of overwrought nerves.

“Yes, and a terrible patient you were too,” Severus observed. By the glint in his eye, she suspected he was baiting her on purpose—he knew her well enough to understand that an angry Miranda was more grounded than a frightened one.

“Hmm…” Healer A’isha hummed. Internal examination completed, she vanished the grotesque spell and lifted the hem of Miranda’s robe in order to examine the scars sprawling over the American’s abdomen. Although they were still an angry shade of red, the skin was tightly closed over the wounds. One more set of battle souvenirs for her to remember her adventures by.

“Well, what do you think?” Miranda asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“I think that you may resume light duties tonight. But if you receive any further injuries, I expect you to come straight here. The wounds are closed, but still inflamed by the căpcăun venom.”

“If it would be more prudent for her to continue to avoid active duty, perhaps another fortnight of rest would be advisable,” Severus said.

Miranda shot him a glare, but he was looking over her head at the Healer and avoiding her eyes completely.

“No, I think we can let you try your wings, Miss Miranda.” She pulled a roll of parchment out of her lime green robes and waved her wand over it. A florid script enumerating a list of potions and balms appeared on it, and Miranda was pleased to see that this new regimen was significantly shorter than the one she was currently subject to. “Please take this down to the apothecary, and wait for him to fill the order. We’ll cut back your healing potion to twice daily, and I’ve ordered a different balm for your scars that will not require bandaging. You understand the magical and physical exercises you should perform, and also the limits you should respect?”

“I do,” Miranda said.

“Excellent. Please return in two weeks so that I may see how you do with the increased activity. If all goes well we can lengthen the time between appointments again.”

“Thank you Healer A’isha.”

“You are very welcome. Good day, Professor Severus.”

“Healer A’isha,” he returned.

The door closed softly behind the Healer, and Severus helped Miranda sit up on the edge of the narrow bed. She let her hand slide up his arm, weaving her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and he gave her half a smile before leaning down to kiss her. His thin lips were hungry on hers, coaxing sighs from her and swallowing them eagerly until she felt quite boneless in his embrace.

“So you did miss me,” she teased, surprised by the ardor of his welcome, especially since a nurse or a Healer might wander in at any moment and shame them like a pair of naughty teenagers.

“Surprising is it not?” he replied, peppering her face with feather-light kisses that made her lean towards him; aching for more satisfactory contact. “If you are not otherwise engaged, perhaps we might retire to you cabin.”

Oh, right. Her cabin. The heat that his touch had inspired in her body snuffed out and she pulled away from him, swinging over the opposite side of the table and beginning to dress with business-like efficiency.

“Well, about that,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but one of my brothers decided to come back with me.”

His shoulders tensed up a quarter-inch the way they always did when she said something that he didn’t care for.

“I see.”

“Finn wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think he wants to vet you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s the funniest thing. Even though I’m a grown woman, he still sees me as his baby sister and gets inconveniently protective at the most inopportune times.” She sat down on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots, turning her back on Severus’s pointed gaze. “Anyway, he’s back at the ranch sleeping, and I’m honestly exhausted myself. My body has no idea what time it is anymore. I was thinking I’d go back and catch some sleep before my shift with Aaron, and maybe you could mosey over to the cabin later tonight, say 10ish, and get the worst over with.”

“I see.”

The enigmatic answer snapped what was left of Miranda’s paltry patience. Between the the portkey lag and the guilt that was weighing on her over not extending a proper Christmas invitation to Severus in the first place, she was rather done-in.

“Look, you don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to,” she said angrily. “He’s not all bad. I mean, he’s an ass, but so are you. You might get along.”

Her cheeks were flaming when she stood up to face him—just in time to see a flash of pain twist his expression before he could banish it behind an impassive mask.

“As you like, Miranda,” he shrugged, feigning indifference. “I am willing to meet your brother if you wish for me to do so.”

The victory gave her no pleasure—maybe she should start kicking puppies for fun in her spare time too.

“Great. I’ll see you after work then.”

“Yes. You will.”

His response was half promise and half challenge; and she was within a hair’s breadth of allowing a casual I love you to escape her lips. But she bit her tongue to trap the impish spark from escaping.

She’d learned the hard way what came of lighting a campfire with kerosene.

*****

It should have been a pleasant night. The mercury was well above freezing, and Shoreditch was still sporting her Christmas finery; with twinkling lights and holly wrapped around every lamppost and store window. But the mist that might have made the neighborhood blur into a sugarplum fantasy sat thick and muddy like cold pea soup—unyielding, unappetizing, cloying in the lungs until one wanted to gasp for air.

“Maggie was cute as a bug at Mass yesterday,” Aaron said as he and Miranda patrolled through the abandoned streets. “Good as gold too. Didn’t make a peep until the end when she started trying to sing with the choir.”

His cheerful voice grated on Miranda’s fraying nerves. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Naw, you were right to go home. The folks must’ve been glad to see you.”

“They were. Finn even insisted on coming back for a spell.”

“That’s great! Why don’t y’all come to Mass with us on Sunday?”

Aaron’s relentless good mood was beginning to warm her. “That could work. Finn was talking about wanting to go down to Landanwg in Wales that day. Seamus is sending him on a wild goose chase after some album.”

“Landanwg? I’ve been meaning to get back down there. Best cawl on the island in my opinion, and the church is something to see.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then.”

The wind picked up and Miranda wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. She could feel her left shoulder riding high, and even the basic Hominum Revelio she’d used earlier in the shift had been fuzzy at best. If Aaron was aware of her struggles—and she’d be surprised if he weren’t—he was polite enough not to draw attention to them.

“I couldn’t believe the number of dresses Rachel’s mother sent for Maggie. I doubt that baby’ll wear above half of them before she grows out of the duds.”

“You made a good baby, Aaron.”

“I think so, if I do say so my…”

His voice trailed off and Miranda shivered, the hair on her arms standing on end as though some electric shock at touched her skin. Aaron’s shift from doting father to deadly Auror was instantaneous, and both of them had their wands in hand as they searched the mist for whatever foul stench had disturbed them.

“Did you hear something?” Miranda asked in a low voice.

Aaron put a finger on her arm and tapped,

NOT DO YOU HEAR SOMETHING DO YOU SMELL SOMETHING

Her fingers tensed around her alder wand, and she fancied it clung to the palm of her hand, ready to defend her to the last. Beside her, Aaron’s body was going through a set of inhuman contortions, until he dropped down on all fours and sprang into the midst, his dapper suit exchanged for the form of a massive bloodhound. He restrained himself to a sedate pace that his partner, hampered by her merely human legs might have a prayer of following, and she ran lightly after him, flicking her wand at her feet to muffle the crunch of the snow beneath her boots.

The chase led them to a residential street, lined with townhouses and matched hazelnut hedgerows. Aaron made short work digging a path through one of the bushes, and Miranda was able to push through after him without any trouble. She stopped short on the other side, where she found her friend nosing the body of a young woman, lying close on the ground with a dark haired man. The blood on the twisted corpses had barely congealed, and a juvenile thestral was boldly snaking around the bodies, eager to feast on the scent of death. Miranda stared down the sulfurous creature, and it recoiled, distrustful of a witch that was willing to meet its burning eyes.  

Aaron barked once in question, and the old rhythm of hunt and search imposed itself on Miranda’s bones. She quickly searched the bodies, discovering an unused wand, a Magical ID, and a handbag full of No-Maj paraphernalia, and shoving them into her pockets for later perusal. The wounds on their bodies were sickeningly familiar, and she wondered if this were Severus’s handiwork; or if he’d taught his signature curse to that many of his Death Eater comrades.

“He was a wizard. It looks like she was No-Maj,” Miranda murmured, digging four coins out of a pocket and placing them, one by one, over the eyes that would see no more. “Eternal rest grand unto them…”

She hit the dirt as Aaron, still in his animagus form, landed hard on her back, sheltering her from the vile green light that snaked overhead and splintered the hedge behind them. Before the bark could settle, Aaron had launched himself at their assailants, bounding towards the pair of black-clad wizards that appeared from shadows between the houses. Miranda covered the bloodhound’s charge, firing blasts of white that sizzled and sparked as they collided with the red bolts exploding from the wands of the Death Eaters. Within seconds, Aaron had brought down the taller of the two, snapping and snarling while the wizard yelped and struggled under the hound’s weight. The remaining Death Eater redoubled his attack, leaving his companion to fend for himself as he advanced on Miranda, red curses flying.

It was a duel that would have bored her to tears six months earlier, but tonight Miranda was hard pressed to keep up with the frenzy of deadly spells, and soon she was muttering her incantations through gritted teeth. Sweat poured from her brow as she forced hex after hex, humiliated by her puny efforts. At least Severus wasn’t here to witness them.

“Fuck!” she swore, crumpling to the ground as a nasty curse caught her square in the stomach. One arm went protectively around the wound as she rolled through her fall, and she could feel the skin crackling beneath her tunic as she gasped with pain.

By the time she managed to hobble to her feet, it was over. Aaron abandoned his barely moving prize to attack Miranda’s foe, and stumbled when the Death Eater disappeared with a violent crack; reappearing an instant later at his fallen comrade’s side. Another crack and the two wizards were gone; out of range and untraceable. Aaron sniffed his way over the ground for several moments while Miranda sat back on her heels, panting and holding her injured stomach. When the southerner was satisfied with his search, he snapped up the fallen wand of the taller Death Eater and trotted to Miranda’s side. A long, low whine emanated from his throat, and he shifted back to his human form, frowning down at his friend.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, stooping next to her. “Don’t answer that, I know you’ll lie. Just let me see where he got you.”

“Fine, I’m fine,” she protested through her panting; but she didn’t struggle when he gently pushed her back so that he could roll up the hem of her tunic and prod the blackened skin beneath.

“I’m calling Fisher and Hart, and then I’m taking you to St Mungo’s.”

She pushed him away and yanked down her tunic. “No! I’ve been there once already today. If I go back this soon, Healer A’isha will put me back on disabled and I’m not going to sit on the bench anymore!”

“Listen, you bull-headed woman, you’re barely off the disabled list because you nearly died. You’re going.”

It was time to switch tactics. “What if I go home right now?” she cajoled. “Severus is going to be there, and he can clean up this mess as well as any Healer.”

She could almost see Aaron’s internal debate raging. “And you have to take the rest of the week off.”

“But…”

“No buts! I don’t need you putting my ass in danger because you’re trying to run before you can crawl.”

“Will you come by and tell me what you and the others find here tonight?”

“I will.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

They spat on their palms and shook to seal the bargain, a remnant of their schoolyard days. She leaned a little harder on him than she liked as he helped her to her feet, and he did her the honor of pretending not to notice.

“Don’t worry, Mira,” he said when she was steady. “You’ll be up to speed faster than green grass through a goose. You’ve just gotta have a little patience.”

“You think?” she replied testily, giving the besmirched lawn a final look. If one more person told her to be patient, she was either going to scream, or hex the fool into next Sunday. Aaron wisely held his tongue, and she limped into the shadows to Apparate home before she could give in to the impulse.

*****

A quarter past the appointed hour was as late as Severus could force himself to arrive anywhere without breaking out in hives. He made his way up the footpath to Miranda’s cabin (he did not mosey—he never moseyed), well aware that it would likely be an hour or more before she would deign to appear. He’d spent the last half hour debating over whether or not he should knock rather than simply enter, as was his habit, and had at last settled on knocking—if only because it seemed imprudent to startle a man raised in a family of bounty hunters.

Three short raps brought his host to the door. Miranda’s brother was clad in ripped blue jeans (did the man not own proper clothing?) and a black t-shirt. His dark hair was sculpted into a somewhat taller version of the pompadour that Aaron favored, his sharp blue eyes reminded Severus uncomfortably of Conor Rose’s, and a cigarette dangled negligently from his lips. All this, of course, was overshadowed by the fact that the man seemed to have mislaid his right arm somewhere. Fortunately, Severus had plenty of practice maintaining an impassive expression while being subjected to unpleasant circumstances, and was able to keep his startled reaction to himself.

“Severus Snape, I presume,” the man said around his cigarette.

“Correct, Mr Rose,” Severus replied, shaking Finn’s left hand somewhat awkwardly with his right.

“That’s me. Guess you’d better come in.”

The window was thrown open to the winter night, and the fire was burning high in the fireplace to compensate. A supper of cold meat, cheese, and clementines was haphazardly set on the table, along with a tin of fanciful Christmas biscuits. There was a half-drunk Muggle beer on the counter next to a bucket holding a dozen more on ice. Several Muggle magazines littered the coffee table, and a racket the likes of which Severus had never endured shrieked from the turntable.

Charming.

“Mira ain’t back yet. You wanna beer?” Finn asked, pulling a bottle out of the bucket and passing it to Severus before he could reply.

Severus did not want a beer, but he suspected the alcohol might be a necessary social lubricant in the current situation. “Thank you.”

Finn sauntered over to the table, and sprawled out on one of the chairs like an ungainly cat. Severus sat down like a proper human being, and summoned a glass from the cupboard with a silent accio, pouring the dark brew into it while Finn drank directly from the bottle like his Barbarian sister. Severus took a bracing sip, and the smokey flavor pleased him more than he’d thought it would. Now if only he could drown out the caterwauling from the turntable, they might manage to feign some semblance of civilization.

“So,” Finn said, “how’d you meet my sister?”

It begins. “She, shall we say, conscripted my aid in subduing one of her marks last summer,” Severus replied with a touch of irony.

“Obliging of you. You must’ve done a decent job if she kept you around. How long’ve you been a teacher?”

“Fifteen years.”

“That sounds God-awful. Do you like it?”

“No.” He did not like this one-way interrogation either. “I take it you are part of the Rose family business?”

Finn was not going down quietly. “Yep. You’ve done a good job, by the way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not asking about my arm. I saw you gape at it, but most people would’ve missed that, you covered it so quick. You’ve got a decent poker face.”

“So I’m told.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” This was worse than sparring with Miranda—all of the irritation and none of the pleasure.

“I mean, go ahead and ask about my arm. Most people are bustin’ at the seams to know.”

Severus was in no mood to give the man what he so clearly wanted. “I don’t see why I should care about any of the limbs you have managed to lose.”

Finn laughed and dropped the end of his cigarette into an empty beer bottle, while Severus took a long drink from his glass to steady his temper. Before either man could regroup for another tilt, the door banged open and Miranda limped through it, face pale, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other moving from the wall to the sofa for balance. Both men were on their feet in an instant.

“What the hell happened to you?” Finn demanded.

“Nothing. A couple of Death Eaters,” Miranda replied, sinking down on the sofa.

Severus flexed his left arm involuntarily, and quickly closed the door as though he were concerned his fellows had followed Miranda home.

“Death Eaters?” Finn asked. “You mean those punks you were telling me about?”

“Yes. They got away, but one of them left his wand behind. Aaron and a couple of the other Aurors are going over the crime scene. We’ll catch them. It’s only a matter of time.”

“That still does not explain why you are limping,” Severus observed pointedly.

“I was getting to it.” She winced, pulling up her tunic to expose the blackened skin beneath. “I got hit in the fray. It feels like an adusto, and a clumsy one at that.”

Severus thrust Finn out of the way and dropped to one knee beside her to examine the wound. Fury coursed through him, causing his fingers to tremble as he ran them over the injured skin.

“What are you doing here?” he said angrily. “You should have gone to St Mungo’s. What was Aaron thinking, letting you come home in this condition?”

She flinched under his examination. “I’m not going back; I was just there. I thought you could take care of it.”

“It’s not an option. You’re going.”

“Come on, please? It’s only a little curse; no big deal.”

Her cajoling snapped the remaining thread of his patience. “Apparently nothing short of dying is a big deal to you, you daft woman! Perhaps you were not paying attention to Healer A’isha this morning, but I was. You were to return to the hospital immediately if you suffered any further injuries. Perhaps I do not wish to be a party to any more of your reckless, juvenile behavior!”

She blinked at him, obviously surprised by his unusual outburst, and he cursed himself for losing control in front of his infuriating lover and her wretched brother. A tense silence fell over the room while Severus caught his breath. Finn, seemingly unconcerned by his sister’s condition, produced a cigarette for her and a fresh one for himself, which he lit deliberately before voicing his opinion.

“Seems to me you don’t need to go pickin’ at my sister,” the American said. “Either fix her up or don’t; but there ain’t no call to be fussin’ her like a flustered ol’ school marm.”

Severus glared at the siblings and bit back the growl that was threatening to escape his throat. How it was that Miranda managed to reduce him to this level was beyond him; and he knew that the only way he would get her to St Mungo’s now was by throwing her over her his shoulder and dragging her by force, probably after stunning her fool of a brother first. He was too angry to enjoy either fantasy, especially when he found himself storming into his lover’s potions closet to gather the supplies to tend her wounds. No wonder she treated him like her faithful cur—he was so quick to play the part it made him sick.

“Thank you, Severus, I knew I could count on you,” she said.

“I don’t want your thanks,” he bit back. She ran her fingers through his hair while he worked, and he shook off her touch like it burned him.

Finn brought over a plate of food and a fresh beer for the patient; joining her on the sofa to enjoy the evening’s entertainment of Severus the Nursemaid. Soon they were talking over his head while he applied counter-curses, balms, and dittany, coaxing the skin back to a healthy shade of pink; a servant forgotten.

“What were the punks doing when you broke up their tea party?” Finn asked.

Miranda frowned at the piece of salami she was rolling around a mozzarella slice. “They offed a couple of people up in Shoreditch; a wizard and a No-maj woman.”

“That’s a cryin’ shame. Remind me what those shits are up to?”

“They’re stooges for some dark wizard who wants to take over the world.”

Finn snorted. “Is that all dark wizards ever want to do?”

“They are pretty unoriginal that way, aren’t they?”

“If I were a dark wizard, I’d just want my pantry full of fixin’s, my fridge full of beer, an endless supply of cigarettes, and eternal youth.”

“And all the women of the world to fawn on you?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

Miranda slapped her brother’s arm lightly. “You are such an ass.”

He winked back. “But I’m an ass with wholesome tastes. What about you Severus Snape? What would you do if you were a dark wizard?”

Miranda choked and sputtered on the beer she was trying to drink, and came up laughing so hard her face turned red. Severus tied the last bandage into place and rolled down her tunic with measured care before bothering to reply.

“I would never answer another foolish question for the rest of my life,” he said—and meant it.

“That’s pretty good!” Finn laughed. “Mira, your boyfriend’s got a sense of humor after all.”

“It’s one of the things I like about him,” Miranda agreed.

Severus left the Americans to their jocularity; first returning the supplies to the potions closet, and then stalking to the loo to scrub the mess from his hands. He stood there for some time, glaring at his sallow reflection and wondering what in Merlin’s name he was doing here in the first place. He’d rendered service to his lover, and she had her brother now to entertain her. He’d no intention of staying over with said brother sleeping on the sofa. He was painfully aware that Miranda had no desire to retain him in a role that would require certain sacrifices of him; such as enduring the company of her family members. Why put himself out? It wasn’t that he disliked her parents or her brother per se—indeed he barely knew them—but the entire comedy offended his sense of justice. If Miranda wanted him to dance the part of the dutiful boyfriend (what a moronic term that was too!) she could bloody well act as though she wanted him around.

Mind made up, he returned to the main room and announced, “I shall take my leave of you. Miranda, if you have any further troubles you will have to avail yourself of a Healer’s care. Good night.”

“Don’t go yet,” she coaxed. “We haven’t even had a chance to get the card table out.”

“I suspect you can play well enough without me.”

“Come on, professor,” Finn put in. “Isn’t it Christmas break or something?”

“Unfortunately, holidays for the students are not necessarily holidays for the teachers.”

“Finn, go in the bedroom for a minute, would you?” Miranda ordered.

“Why? Can’t you smooch lover-boy with me here?” he retorted, but he was already on his way out of the room.

“Did he call you?” she asked quietly, struggling to pull herself up from the sofa until Severus relented and came to sit beside her, if only to save the strain on her wounded core.

“No. Do not trouble yourself about that,” he replied.

“Did Finn say something stupid before I got here?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you angry with me?”

He was. “No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

He traced a long finger over her cheek, wondering darkly when her face had supplanted Lily’s in his mind as the measure of female beauty. “Leave it.”

She closed her piercing eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I should know by now that if you don’t want to talk about something, you’re not going to talk about it.”

“I am pleased to hear you’ve come to such a sensible realization. It should save us many tedious hours of argument.”

She caught hold of his hand and kissed his palm, her lips surprisingly fierce. “The Lees want Finn and me to join them on Sunday for a little excursion to Wales. Will you come?”

Her eyes were bright and hopeful now, and Merlin help him, he did want to come. He wanted to hold her hand like a bloody idiot, and spend time with her friends and family, and pretend that he was liked and respected by descent people. But he knew it was a lie; and he was too tired to tell it to himself tonight.

“I doubt I will have time.”

He went to the door to gather his cloak, and she asked without rising from the sofa, “Are you going to avoid me the whole time Finn is here?”

He couldn’t answer that question, and he didn’t bother to try. “Good night, Miranda.”

“Good night, Severus.”

The temperature had dropped significantly, and the frigid air stung his nose as he went out into the night. He had succeeded in wrenching the tatters of his dignity from Miranda’s capricious hands, and he wrapped them around his heart the best he could.

They were a feeble shield against the cold.

*****

Borgin and Burkes was quiet at five minutes to close on Saturday evening, but that didn’t bother the girl inside. Cassie was used to the singular merchandise, and dusting cobwebs off the cursed hands and shrunken skulls was as normal to her as scattering fairy clocks in the summertime. Indeed, she felt rather proud that her Uncle Orestes trusted her enough to leave her in charge of the business while he nipped down into the brighter arms of Diagon Alley for a last minute errand. The shop itself was well pleased to sit undisturbed this evening. Better to wait for the rightsort of customer than sully one’s skirts with dust from the wrong one.

The bell above the door clanged a mournful groan, and Cassie looked up from her sweeping to see Draco Malfoy swaggering inside. A blast of cold wind whipped through the front of the shop, ruffling the pages of the massive tome of inventory sitting open on the counter. He gave the door a swift kick, slamming it shut, and she scurried behind the counter to deal with the book. Her uncle would have her hide if he thought she’d left it out for other customers to browse. Borgin and Burkes prided itself on discretion, and she wasn’t about to be the weak link that tarnished that reputation.

“Hello, Draco. Are you having a nice Holiday?” she asked, tapping one of the floorboards with the toe of a polished Mary Jane. It opened with a creak, and she scooped up the book to replace it to its home beneath the floor.

Draco was in no mood for pleasantries. “Where’s that uncle of yours, Cassandra?”

“He stepped out to Mr Ollivander’s. He’ll be back any minute, though. We’re about to close and he’ll want to count down the till.”

“Business is booming I take it?” he sneered.

It wasn’t, not since the Ministry started leaning on all their regular customers. “It’s been fine, thank you for asking.”

She finally wrestled the book into place and pushed the board down tight over it. Wiping her grimy hands on her shop apron, she gave her classmate a friendly smile. No sense in riling tempers that were already short-fused.

“Is there anything I can get for you while you wait? Tea? Cocoa?”

“What? No,” he said distractedly. He was pacing near the front windows, peering out into the street that had been full dark for hours thanks to long winter nights. Suddenly he drew away from the windows and added with great agitation, “Actually, yes. You can go to the back of the shop and stay there.”

She felt her brow furrow and her hands turn cold. “I don’t think Uncle Orestes would like it if I left a customer unattended.”

“I’m not going to steal from your bloody uncle,” he snapped. “Bring me out that box of poison rings from the Carolingian era. Father needs a Christmas present.”

“Christmas was three days ago.”

“Yes, and we don’t celebrate it. Just do as I say!”

She almost obeyed him, he looked so desperate. Her hands gripped the counter as some inexplicable instinct told her to run. Before she could take action, the door opened again, this time admitting a raw-faced man with unkempt gray whiskers, rough clothing, and eerily sharp teeth. Draco’s face went a few shades paler than normal, and Cassie’s heart started beating as fast as a startled robin’s.

“Where’s Borgin?” the man growled.

Draco shrank and she caught the fear in his eyes before he puffed himself back up and faced the newcomer with a decent approximation of careless courage.

“Out,” Draco said, sounding bored as ever. “Maybe we don’t need to waste our time here.”

The rough-looking man swatted Draco to the side like he were swatting a fly, and Cassie resisted the urge to shrink against the wall as she slid her wand into her hand and hid it in the folds of her robes. As Draco recovered his balance, the older man scented her, and a nasty smile stretched across his mottled features. It did nothing to improve them.

“What have we here?” he said, ambling towards Cassie, who did her best to keep the counter between them.

“She’s nobody,” Draco muttered.

Nobody did her best to keep her voice respectful and even. Show no fear, show now challenge. “I’m Cassandra Borgin, sir, Mr Borgin’s niece. He just popped over to Mr Ollivander’s, and he’ll be back very soon, I’m sure.”

“Cassandra Borgin,” the man leered. “What a pretty little name for a pretty little girl. Friend of yours, Draco?”

“We’re here for her uncle, Grayback,” Draco said, his hands fisted at his sides.

“We’re here for what I say we’re here for.”

“I’m in the same year as Draco,” Cassie offered. Keep him talking. If he was talking, he wasn’t biting. “In Slytherin of course. What house were you in, Mr Grayback?” The man let out a snarl of laughter, and when he didn’t answer, she continued to babble. “Draco’s the Head Slytherin in our year too. It’s a privilege to learn with him. He’s so advanced.”

“Shut up, girl, you talk too much.”

“So sorry, sir.”

The bell rang a third time, and Cassie’s spindly uncle entered, stamping snow from his boots.

“Mr Grayback! Good evening,” he said, flipping the sign from open to closed and lowering the curtains with several quick wand flicks. “Cassie, I think some tea wouldn’t go amiss just now. Be a good girl and go and get the tray.”

“Yes, Uncle Orestes. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, edging towards the door to the back of the shop and safety.

“Cassie is going to stay right where she is,” Grayback countered, “or she’ll be short one uncle.”

She froze on the threshold, and in a blur of movement, Grayback was beside her, wrapping her braids around his thick hand and pulling them until she was looking up at the ceiling. His breath was hot on her face and it stank of putrid meat.

“Such a pretty little girl. Older than I like, but still young enough,” Grayback cooed. “Don’t mind us, Draco, tell the man why we’re here.”

There was a hairline crack running the length of the moulded ceiling, and a pair of spiders were darting in and out of the rupture. Cassie watched them, and counted her breaths, doing her best not to make matters worse by falling apart. She was glad she’d had all those hours of detention, learning not to show her fear to Professor Snape to prepare her for this moment. Although, if she survived this moment, she doubted she would ever be afraid of her Head of House again.

“I take it you have encountered some difficulty in repairing the Vanishing Cabinet, Mr Malfoy?” Borgin asked calmly when the boy did not speak.

“Yes,” Draco replied harshly. “I’ve done everything you told me to do, and it still doesn’t work.”

“I am terrible sorry to hear that. I’m afraid that, as I cannot see the object, it makes it very difficult for me to advise you. However, I have been frantically researching the matter, and I expect to have further recommendations for you to try when term commences.”

“Perfect. Then I won’t be able to consult you when your new recommendations don’t work either.”

“Borgin, why do I get the feeling that you don’t want Draco to succeed?” Grayback put in.

“Of course I want Mr Malfoy to succeed,” Borgin protested. “In fact, I was just about to suggest that Cassandra here would be the perfect addition to the operation. She already has years of experience handling dark artifacts. I will instruct her here, and she will help you at school.”

“Or maybe I’ll take a little bite out of her and teach you a lesson about keeping your word,” Grayback offered.

Cassie was amazed at how steady her uncle was under fire.

“If you leave her in one piece, Mr Malfoy will have the further advantage of my on-going help. Cassandra and I can code messages back and forth in our usual correspondence.”

“That might work,” Draco agreed.

Grayback grazed Cassie’s neck with a pointed incisor, and though it did not break the skin, she could not keep from shuddering.

“We’ll let you try,” Grayback said at last. “But if you fail, the girl is mine.”

“I understand,” Borgin replied.

Grayback gave her neck a final squeeze and let go so suddenly that she fell to her knees. She kept her eyes on the floor and did not bother to get up. Her legs were shaking too badly now, and she could no longer check her frightened tears.

“Come on, Draco,” Grayback barked.

Draco wavered for an instant before following the werewolf out into the night. As soon as the door was shut after their unwanted guests, Borgin threw the lock and brought down the night wards. The relative safety caused Cassie to cry harder, and her uncle got down on the floor beside her to gather her into his arms.

“Well done, my girl,” he said, rocking her like she were a little child rather than a nearly-grown woman.

“Thank you,” she hiccuped. “I’m s..s..sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“You don’t have to stop just yet. In a minute well go in the back and get a cup of cocoa and some of Aunt Electra’s tea cakes. No need to frighten your Mum with all this.”

“Uncle Orestes, do you think we’ll be able to fix it?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Given enough time, we can fix anything, don’t worry about that.”

The next logical question was: would Fenrir Grayback give them the time they needed?

Cassie was not brave enough to ask that question tonight.

*****

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

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[skookworks]

Gallery – Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60

From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches. Do you have any favorites?

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Story Seed #45 A Bad Seed Blooms

Karren was always a difficult child. Demanding, clingy, prone to throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. Dealing with her on a daily basis was enough to convince her parents that they didn’t want to have another child. Yes she was often charming. Yes she was usually very entertaining and she could seem very loving but, damn, she was awfully narcissistic.

When Karren was eight, her mother became pregnant (their contraception method failed) and her parents decided that they’d keep the baby. Karren would adapt, she’d have to. Right? And for a while it seemed like Karren would. She was delighted by the idea of having a sibling. She had fun playing nursemaid and helper to her mother and she revelled in the appreciation that her parents showed her for her new attitude.

The baby came, a little sister. Karren played doting big sister, giving cuddles, helping with bottles and rocking her to sleep. But, her parents had less attention for her and got crankier form lack of sleep, the old Karren resurfaced. She was jealous of the baby, angry that it just wouldn’t behave. Her play became meaner and rougher. One morning her mother caught her holding a pillow over the baby’s face. She wasn’t trying to kill the baby, she was just trying to make it stop crying, she didn’t know what she was doing, did she?

Her parents made arrangements to send Karren to a boarding school. Until she could depart her parents never left her alone with the baby and they locked her room at night.

Two days before Karren was to depart her mother took her and the baby to run errands. Karren had been behaving. She seemed contrite. Maybe safe? As they returned to the house their car was blocked in by a pair of black SUVs and armed men pulled them from the vehicle.

Karren’s parents were comfortably upper middle class. Karren’s grandfather, her father’s father, was rich and had made a lot of enemies getting that way. The kidnappers were in the employ of a Russian gangster that Grandfather had doublecrossed.

Karren, her mother and her little sister are taken to a remote location. Karen’s mother is forced to record a ransom plea. Karren pouts, Karren yells, Karren is not a cooperative hostage. The kidnappers beat her, tie her up, cut off one of her little fingers and send it with the ransom demand.

Karren’s father is in shock and desperate. Grandfather is disappointed. His son was always a weak thing. Grandfather harrumphs and takes charge. He has his security chief put together a team to rescue the kidnapped mother and her girls. But Grandfather didn’t get rich by giving a shit about anyone but himself. The team is to rescue the family if it’s convenient but it’s more important to him that they kill as many of the Russians as they can. The “girls” are expendable.

And Karren? Karren is very, very mad. Her parents could be boring. Her parents could be strict. Her parents often spoiled her fun. But they’d never hit her. They’d never hurt her. And now these smelly men have dared to hurt HER and threaten HER mother and HER little sister?

Karren is clever. Karren will get out of her bounds. Karren will make them all very, very sorry.

Recommendation

I am behind on my newsletters. I have a virtual stack of them waiting to be read and, at the moment, I can’t remember which ones I’ve already recommended. So this week I’m recommending a youtube channel: Cartoonist Kayfabe. Jim Rugg and Ed Piskor are veteran comics creators and they regular post a lot of videos about comics. I’ll let them introduce themselves –

Local News

I don’t have heroes. When I was a kid I kept discovering that the folks my history classes promoted as role models were often pretty horrible people. Even the ones the weren’t horrible were usually … human. That is, they weren’t necessarily nice, they weren’t always faithful and they often did things that were sloppy and stupid. As a kid, I was looking for perfect heroes to model myself after and real humans just kept failing provide me with the examples I wanted.

As I grew up I came to admire the people who stood up, who took action to make the world a better place, regardless of whether they were also shitty spouses, terrible parents or lousy friend. Rather, I’ve learned to admire the noble actions they took and accept that the rest of their lives and behaviors were probably pretty messy.

I’ve been following and reading Warren Ellis‘s work since I encountered his columns at 9th Art back in the 90s. I posted some art in the Remake/Remodel challenges in the FreakAngels forums. I found a lot of interesting newsletters (and was inspired to do this one) because he recommended them.  I don’t get many regular comics these days but I did pay attention to what he had coming out next. I mostly heard about that when I read his latest newsletter. I only heard about the controversy when he posted his last one. This essay gives the pertinent details with links to more info.

Of all the bad actors who have come in to light in the last few years, Ellis is the first one whose work really matters to me. After a few days passage I’m still … I don’t know. I believe the women. You don’t get 30 or more artists to agree on something unless there is truth there. And they’ve got the emails. (And being a whistleblower is never about money unless you’re already rich and famous. Being a poor whistleblower means you, at best, become a famous and poor whistleblower. Anyone who thinks that someone calls out injustice for fame and glory and wealth is someone who doesn’t actually care about injustice.)

I admire his work. I’m sorry he’s behaved poorly and kind of relieved that he didn’t behave worse. I sympathize more with the women who had to put up with his shit than with him for what’s happening now. What struck me, in his statement, was this –

“I have never considered myself famous or powerful, to the point where I’ve made a lot of bad jokes about it for twenty-odd years.”

  It’s a reminder to me that our perceptions of ourselves are often off the mark. You might think that someone in Ellis’ position, who has had the accomplishments and influence that he’s had, would have a better perception of his place in the world. But most of us don’t. Most of us hear our internal dialogues, our fears and our doubts, much louder than the feedback we get from the outside. We rarely perceive ourselves accurately. 

It’s a reminder that I/we have much more power in the world than I/we think I/we do. It’s a reminder to be more aware, to think before speaking and acting. It’s a reminder to talk more about perceptions and expectations even when doing that seems like it’s going to kill the flow of an interaction. I may think things are hunky dory but the person I’m with might just be being polite. 

I don’t think I’m currently in a position of power. In previous jobs I have been a supervisor and an assistant manager and a manager. As I moved up in responsibility I became conscious of having a responsibility to model “professional” behavior. Getting wasted and flirting with one’s coworkers isn’t a good look for the boss. Now I’m just one mail carrier in a station of about a hundred other carriers. I go to work. I don’t really socialize. I just want to put the hours in so I can get paid and go home and draw. Do I have power? Of course I do. I’m an older white guy who, to the new hires at least, probably seems like I’ve been around forever. Postal carriers have a union. Carriers advance by seniority. There’s a culture of not ratting on your fellow carrier when they misbehave. So I maybe could fuck with the new hires and get away with it. I’m pretty sure that veteran carriers already do that.

I have gotten tired. I have withdrawn. But I’m not dead. It’s time to pay a little more attention at work and in the world. I am not a hero. But I do have power and I can take a few noble actions now and then.

Tuesday Night Party Club #25 Gallery - Half Hour Sketches 31 to 60 From last year, the second set of thirty daily/half hour sketches.

[teratalia]

Empusa girlfriend x reader

Hi it's been quite a while since I last posted so here have an attempt at a lil bit of horror monster love. I'm gonna be real with you, ok - what we've got here is a mix of actual Greek myth and some of my own additions so is this 100% faithful to myth? No. But did I have fun? Absolutely.

Quick notes: nb reader, some violence, blood, character death, my attempt at a somewhat creepier story (sorry in advance)

*****

You open your eyes, vision clouded over in an odd shade of orange. The scent of cinnamon and honey wafts over you as a beautiful woman climbs into bed with you, straddling you. Realizing that this must be a dream, you decide to just go with it. With a smile, you lean up to kiss her, letting your hands tangle in her ash silver hair.

She giggles against your lips, pressing her slender body against yours, hands wandering over your chest and shoulders. The woman breaks the kiss, trailing her lips down your face to nip at your neck. Your hand idly roams over her, reaching down, and you don't know why your fingertips feel so cold. Looking down, you see that the thigh where you hand is resting is shiny, reflecting the moonlight. It's made of coppery metal.

As you realize this, the hand in her hair suddenly burns and you reel back with a shout, pushing her away. Your palm and fingers are charred - you look up and see that her hair has burst into flames, but the woman is completely unfazed. Instead, she grins widely, and that's when you see the long fangs poking over her bottom lip.

You try to jump off the bed, try to get away, but you're frozen in fear. The woman crawls back over to you, opening her mouth wide. Before you can stop her, she lunges forward and sinks her teeth into your neck.

You wake up with a scream, looking around the room wildly. There's no one there. The suspicious shadow in the corner is just a pile of clothes flung carelessly over a chair. Taking a shaky breath, you slip back under the covers, pressing a hand to your neck and making sure there's nothing there. That dream felt so terribly real…

You can barely fall back asleep, and it feels like seconds later the alarm clock is blaring in your ears, urging you up. You sigh and force yourself to go start your day.

What a terrible thought to have stuck in your mind as you get ready for a first day of a new job. You grumble to yourself as you get ready and prepare a cup of coffee, but you're determined to not let it get to you. If only it was one of those nightmares that you promptly forgot upon waking up, but no, of course not. You knew it would be in the back of your mind all day.

*****

Regardless, you get to work early and start your day with a smile. It's a retail job at your local mall that pays more than minimum wage and you're actually pretty excited to start. You don't really mind working with customers, it's just the annoying and rude ones that make life difficult. For the most part, you know that your job will probably just start with folding clothes and answering simple questions.

Your hunch is right, and after meeting your coworkers, you follow your new manager around and shadow her as she works.

"Quick question, Miss Heath," you say.

"Oh, honey, just call me Eliane." She smiles at you and for a second your brain short circuits, just like it always does when talking to pretty women. Naturally light brown skin, a killer smile, what's not to like? She flips long black hair over one shoulder and captures you in her brown-eyed stare. "What is it?"

"I-I was just wondering, will you need me to package and send deliveries of inventory to other stores?"

"You seem like such a go-getter, and I really like that." Eliane smiles again and you nearly drop the clothes you're holding. "Yes, that will be part of your job later, and I can show you how to do that today. Sound good?"

All you can do is nod in response. You can't help but wonder how you're going to be able to work without getting a full-fledged crush on your manager, and throw yourself into your work. Before the day is done, you've already managed to sell quite a few clothes and accessories, and you've helped plenty of customers. Your coworkers pat you on the back and Eliane nods approvingly.

"With a work ethic like that, you'll be looking at a promotion before you know it." She's taller than you, and leans down to add, "I've got a good feeling about you."

You nod jerkily and hastily clock out, heading back home. You're halfway home before you realize that Miss Eliane, when she leaned down to whisper in your ear, smelled a lot like honey. She liked tea, and always had a mug of it nearby, so that's what that smell was.

Shaking that ridiculous thought out of your head, you continue to walk. Thankfully the mall is actually a short walk from your apartment, so you don't need to drive or catch public transport. The only problem is warding off creeps in the street.

As you walk, you think that you hear another set of footsteps following you, but when you spin around, there's no one there. You reach into your pocket and grip your keys, holding them so that they poke out from between your fingers, and walk a bit faster. Nothing else happens, and you don't hear anything else, but you're still relieved to reach your apartment safe and sound.

*****

During the following weeks, you get used to your new job and get to know your coworkers. Your favorite by far is Adrian, who's a very laid back guy. However, when he needed to work, he was so charming and great at getting people to buy things that they didn't even know they needed.

"How do you even do that, Adrian?" You ask enviously, watching a customer head off with twice as much as they wanted. "That must be a skill."

"Oh, you don't know? Just bat your eyelashes and give them puppy dog eyes," says your other favorite coworker, Rose. It took a while to get to know her, with her customary deadpan stare, but now you know that her teasing is all in good fun. "They won't be able to resist your persuasion then."

Adrian just laughs, leaning against the wall behind the register. "She's not far off, actually. But more than puppy dog eyes, try to gently persuade them. I call it suggesting, like say they want...this bracelet." He reaches over you to grab a bracelet from the display next to the registers. "And see, these earrings match, right?" Again, he reaches right past you to pick them up, his hand brushing your shoulder. "There's no way the customer can leave without the matching set."

"Dude, those aren't actually a set though." Rose casually leans against the table next to you, your arms touching.

"Of course they're not. But the customer doesn't need to know that."

"Ooh, what a great strategy. I'm so glad I can learn from the master," you tease.

Adrian puts the jewelry back. "Laugh all you want, but I can guarantee results."

Just then, the phone rings. You glare at it, as you hate answering the phone but you know it's something you need to do.

"Don't worry, I got it." Rose grabs it and answers, still very close to you.

By now, you know that your coworkers are a little touchy-feely at times, but it doesn't really bother you. It only feels a little weird when Eliane is around, because she always stares disapprovingly and says something about workplace conduct.

That night, as you walk home, you hear other footsteps. Since the very first night you walked back, you hadn't heard a second set of footsteps, and it terrifies you. Clutching your keys in your fist just like last time, you pick up the pace, hurrying home. This time, though, the person catches up to you. They grab you around your shoulders and start pulling you backwards. You scream and try to fight, but their grip on your arms is too tough to break.

"Just stop struggling and I won't hurt you," they hiss into your ear. "You're in danger."

"What are you talking about?" Any attempts to hit them go ignored.

You feel them lean down, hear them take a deep breath. "I can smell it on you, that scent...Don't go to your job anymore or bad things will happen."

"You know where I work? You stalker!" You cry, trying and failing to escape their grasp, not even bothering with how creepy it was that they sniffed your hair.

"You don't understand. It was the only way..."

Moments later, they stop talking and their hands fall away, releasing you. Without a pause, you jump away, ignoring the assailant's yell to wait, and you run.

The yells turn into wordless screams. You run and you don't look back.

Once at home, you can't stop shaking. Deciding that you can't handle anything else that night, you just change into pajamas and go straight to bed.

*****

The next day, you wake up late from a dreamless sleep and have to rush to get to work on time. Without really looking, you grab a shirt and toss on yesterday's pants and fly out the door, barely making it to work and clocking in.

"Wow, you look like hell," says Adrian. "You feeling okay?"

You wave off his concern. "I'm good, rough night is all. I'll be fine."

"If you say so." Rose doesn't look like she believes you, but lets it go.

"Good morning, you three," says Eliane, coming out of her office. Seeing your slightly disheveled appearance, her brow knits together. "Are you okay? I can call someone else to cover your shift if you need to sit out today."

You shake your head stubbornly. "Thank you, Eliane, but I'm fine. I am," you insist, glaring at Adrian's and Rose's skeptical looks. "Don't worry about me."

"Very well. But you let me know if you need to head home early, yes?" Eliane reaches forward to pat your shoulder, but before she can touch you she flinches and quickly draws her hand back. "If you need me I'll be in my office." And she walks away.

"Well, that was weird," mutters Rose.

You shrug and get to work setting up the window displays. Distracting yourself with work seems effective, because you barely think about the previous night.

Eventually you stop to take a lunch break, heading to the mall food court as you always do. When you sit down with your food, you feel something in your pocket for the first time. Reaching in, you pull out a thin iron chain from which a strange wooden pendant dangles. It looks like an evil eye, but instead of shades of blue it's painted black and shades of red.

"What is this…?" you mumble. That attacker must have slipped it in your pocket before letting you go. What were you supposed to do with it, though? You don't want to keep something from someone who grabbed you so forcefully, but their words repeat in your head.

"Don't go to your job anymore, or bad things will happen," you whisper, turning the pendant in your fingers. Something about the necklace made you want to keep it, so you put it back in your pocket to decide on it later.

Once your break was over and you were back at work, you noticed that Eliane was avoiding you. Usually, when she would come around and see how things were going, she would greet everyone and chat a bit. This time, she merely gave you a small smile and barely said anything before heading back into her office.

"Is the manager acting weird, or is it just me?"

You shake your head. "It's not just you, Adrian. I don't really know what's up, though."

"If it means that Eliane isn't gonna ask us to do extra work, then I really don't mind," Rose comments.

"You would say that," you chuckle.

The rest of the day passes by rather uneventfully, and before long you're on your way home. You clutch onto the necklace in one hand and your keys in the other. They keys hadn't been much help, but they were still comforting. And the necklace made you feel calm, somehow.

You get home without incident, and after that you fall back into a regular routine. Going to work, chatting with your coworkers, relaxing on days you don't work, the cycle repeats. The only change is that Eliane doesn't talk to you as much anymore, and you can't help but wonder if you did something to anger her, but nothing comes to mind.

*****

One cool day, once at work, you leave the necklace in your jacket pocket. It felt weird carrying around a necklace that you weren't wearing anyway.

Eliane stops by to say hello, but instead of passing by, she pauses and stares at you.

"Is...is something wrong?" You tug at your shirt self-consciously.

"Oh, nothing. Work hard today." And she pats your back before heading to her office.

It's the first time she's so much as touched you in weeks, and it takes you a moment to unfreeze and get on with your day.

Rose smirks at you. "I know that the manager is pretty and all, but could you be any more obvious?"

"Hey, leave 'em alone." Adrian bumps your shoulder as he walks past you. "You'll interrupt the wedding planning that's clearly going on."

You groan, frowning at them both. "I'm gonna get her to assign me a shift with people who won't endlessly tease me."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop." Before you can thank her, Rose adds, "I'll stop if I get to be the bridesmaid."

You roll your eyes and ignore her for only about ten minutes, because then you remember that you actually have to communicate to work together.

Later on, coming back into the store from your lunch break, you notice Eliane by the coat racks, fiddling with her coat.

"What's up? Do you need something?" You ask curiously. Eliane jumps and spins to face you.

"No, just getting something from my coat," she says. "Anyway, since you're back, can you tell Rose to go take her break?"

"Sure."

At the end of the day, as you head home, you realize your jacket pocket is a bit lighter than expected. You feel around. The necklace isn't there anymore.

"Ugh, maybe I left it at work?" You mumble. But it's far too late to go back and get it now; the mall is surely closed and it's dark outside as well. Unsure about whether to feel relieved or worried about losing the strange necklace, you just shrug and head back home.

During the week, you secretly try to look around the store for your necklace. You don't find it anywhere and eventually give up the search. Eliane is much more friendly now as well, so eventually you end up forgetting about it entirely anyway.

*****

That Friday as you stand by the registers, Adrian pokes you in the side. "Let's hang out, you two."

Rose leans against you, chin resting on your shoulder to peer over at him. "Aren't we technically hanging out right now?"

He reaches over to flick her forehead. "You know what I mean. Wanna get brunch or watch a movie or something?"

"Sure, why not?" You think for a moment. "There are some new movies in the cinema on the top floor. Or we could do something outside the mall?"

"Honestly, I'd rather do something outside the place where we work," says Rose.

The three of you make plans to meet up during the weekend, to take a bit of a roadtrip to an area of the city that you don't often go to. That weekend flies by as the three of you spend the whole time in each other’s company, just hanging out and having a good time. After that weekend, the three of you grow ever closer and start spending more time outside work together. Sometimes after work, instead of heading right home, you and Adrian hop in Rose’s car and crash at her place. Within a few months, you have designated Rose’s place as the best place for movie nights and hangouts, and she likes to complain about how often you two stay over, but you know it’s use her way of showing affection.

With your attention on your friends both in and out of work, you don’t really think about Eliane as much. In fact, you haven’t had any weird dreams or felt like you’ve been followed for a long time now, and you feel really good about how things are going.

On one early Monday, you and Rose are giggling about some silly joke Adrian told you over the weekend as you set up the store. Eliane passes by with a greeting and pauses next to you.

“What’s so funny, girls?” She asks curiously, and you and Rose exchange an awkward glance.

“It’s just a dumb inside joke,” explains Rose.

“Yeah, Adrian could probably tell you about it best,” you say just as he walks by.

He groans. “Give me a break. You’re still laughing about it? I said that like two days ago.”

“You three have been getting close lately,” says Eliane, her smile looking a bit strained.

“You could say that,” you respond cheerfully.

“Maybe a bit too close,” Rose grumbles good-naturedly. “You guys should just start paying rent if you’re going to stay at my place so often.”

“Yeah, yeah, landlady. How about a friend discount?” Adrian suggests.

The three of you continue to chat as you work, and Eliane just walks away with a wave. Momentarily you feel a bit bad because she probably feels left out, but then Adrian distracts you with a poke.

“What, do you want the manager to join us over the weekend?”

You shudder. “That would feel too weird, no thanks.”

“Might be a good idea. Maybe we could help set them up?”

“Rose, don’t you start,” you say with a glare, just knowing that if they keep on about it, you won’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day.

And you’re right, they spend most of the day talking about your obvious little crush, and you can’t do anything but hope that Eliane can’t hear them. As payback for their incessant teasing, you refuse to go to Rose’s place, instead walking alone back to your own apartment despite their complaints.

*****

Days later, you settle down to sleep in your apartment, feeling relaxed.

You open your eyes, seeing your bedroom through an orange haze. Smelling cinnamon and honey, you look to the window to see the dream woman from before standing there.

You instantly shrink away, gathering the blankets around you for safety. You know it's a dream, but you can't help it. She smiles a little sadly and sits on the far end of the bed, extending a hand to you. Realizing that her long, sharp nails aren't exactly appealing, she actually draws them in like a cat retracting its claws until they're much shorter. Her flaming hair extinguishes, replaced by the long strands of silvery gray ash.

"Come to me," she says, her distorted voice resonating throughout your mind. It is enthralling, and maybe the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. “I do not wish to be apart from you anymore. I will never harm you. I swear I will protect you.”

As she speaks, you slowly push the blankets down back onto your bed. You're drawn in by that voice, by her hypnotizing red-eyed stare. You start to crawl towards her, wanting to feel her skin against yours.

The woman starts to smile genuinely, revealing those fangs that don't deter you anymore. "Yes, that's it, sweet thing. Come here...I love you."

Those three words pass her lips and you freeze, your hand just inches from hers. Something doesn't feel right - do you actually want this? You withdraw your hand and her face falls. It breaks your heart to see such a sorrowful expression on her face, but you continue to back away, wrapping the blankets around yourself once more.

She drops her hand to the bed. "Is this your answer?"

Wordlessly, you nod.

"Very well."

Her hair sparks back into flame and her lovely features contort into a grimace. You tremble, wondering if she'd incinerate you or maybe tear you to shreds, but instead she jumps off the bed.

"Farewell for now..."

You wake with a start, realizing that you're clutching your sheets the same way you were in the dream. You shiver, not liking the "for now" added to the end of her last statement, and it's impossible for you to just fall back asleep. You woke up in a cold sweat, your fingers are now sore from squeezing the sheets, and you can feel a headache coming on.

Giving up on sleep entirely, you pick up your phone on an impulse. It's just past midnight, and you'd only fallen asleep an hour or two ago. You wished you could simply sleep off the weird feeling crawling up your spine, but maybe someone could help take your mind off it.

You call Rose, and she picks up pretty quickly.

"Hey, what's up? I thought you liked to go to sleep earlier than this."

"I-I do." You can't keep the tremor from your voice.

"Something wrong? You can tell me."

But how would you possibly describe a creepy monster dream lady that's haunting you and won't leave you alone? You go for something much more believable. "I didn't tell you guys, but I have a stalker that's been after me for a while. I tried so hard to make sure that person doesn't find out where I live, but I think they have, and I don't know what to do..."

All you hear in her voice is concern. "Oh my god, that's crazy...have you called the police?"

"I'm afraid that if I do, that person will just run away and come back when they're gone."

"Okay, I get that. Hmm...how do you feel about a sleepover?"

"What?"

"Yeah, a sleepover!" Rose's voice rises with her excitement. "I can come get you and bring you over to my place, so that you won't be alone. I can call Adrian too and we can just hang out!"

"That sounds great," you chuckle. "You sound so thrilled, like we didn't just have an entire shift together today. And yesterday. And nearly every day for months now."

"Hush, you. Is it a crime to be happy about hanging out with my friends? Especially if it means helping one of them. Hang on, I'll be there in a bit."

True to her word, Rose is outside your place in less than twenty minutes, loudly honking her horn. Grabbing a small bag with clothes and essentials, you lock your door and rush out to meet her, slipping into the passenger seat.

"Rose, with all that honking you probably woke the entire neighborhood!"

"Whatever. Maybe I also scared away that stalker person." She sounds so earnest that it pains you to have lied to her, but you really couldn't see yourself telling her the whole truth.

After stopping to pick up Adrian, the three of you head to Rose's place.

"Even though it's not the most fun way to meet up, I still can’t wait to marathon some shows with you two," Rose gushes as she drives. "And since it's the weekend, we can have a sleepover the whole time!"

"Rose, you are way too excited." Adrian rolls his eyes, but can't hide a smile. "It's as if the three of us didn't work a whole shift today. Like we haven't been working together for ages now."

She groans. "Ugh, why do you both have to be such downers? Let me have this."

Once inside Rose's apartment, you and Adrian still can't help joking around with Rose until she throws up her hands in mock frustration.

"If that's how you two are gonna be, I might as well drown my sorrows in snacks," she complains, heading to her kitchen.

You and Adrian share a laugh, plopping down on Rose's couch side by side.

"So Rose told me about your stalker situation," he says.

You sigh, nodding. "Not very fun. At least it's an excuse to be with you guys this weekend."

"True, yeah." Adrian lowers his voice, his usual lighthearted tone going dark. "Listen, if you need me to find this stalker and beat them up until they leave you alone, I'll do it."

Your eyes fly wide open and you stare at him. "Adrian! What're you talking about?"

"I'm serious. Anyone who messes with my friends and scares them like this deserves to be knocked down a peg or two. And sometimes the physical way is the only way."

"Adrian, no." Rose, setting down a tray of snacks and drinks, crosses her arms and stares down Adrian. "While I think your heart's in the right place, there's no way either of us would be okay with you doing something so incredibly stupid and risking your life. Right?" She glances at you and you frantically nod.

"I really appreciate it but I'd rather no one get hurt."

Adrian shakes his head. "You are way too nice, but have it your way."

"Anyway!" Rose claps her hands, getting your attention. "I have tons of movies we can watch until we fall asleep."

"Sounds good."

Curled up between your friends on the couch, you barely make it through half of one movie before you fall asleep. When you wake up the next morning, you don't remember anything about it or even what movie it was, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that you're wrapped in a blanket you don't remember picking up, and you're so comfortable. Rose's head is resting on your shoulder as she quietly snores, and Adrian is poking around in the kitchen. When he sees that you're awake, he grins and holds a finger to his lips. You smile back and rest your cheek on the top of Rose's head, shutting your eyes for just a little longer.

You spend a relaxing morning having breakfast with your friends and talking idly. You can almost forget about your dreams, but then the fireplace sparks to life out of nowhere. The tall flames remind you of the monster woman’s hair.

You jump in your seat, spilling orange juice on the table. “Oh, I-I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Guess I’m more on edge than I thought.”

“Don’t worry.” Rose says sympathetically. “That’s just a fake fireplace, sometimes it starts up on its own. It’s okay.”

“No, no, I feel bad. Hang on, I’ll get paper towels.” And you get up and head into the kitchen, taking some dirty plates with you. The second you’re in there, you can hear Rose and Adrian muttering to each other and sigh, thinking it’s probably about how jumpy you are now.

Placing the plates in the sink, you fill it with soapy water and take some deep breaths to calm down. You stare down into the water, expecting to see soap bubbles.

You don’t expect to see the monster woman’s face, staring back up at you.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head and look again. There’s nothing there.

“God, am I going crazy?” You grumble, rubbing your eyes and looking out through the kitchen window.

The monster woman is right outside, grinning toothily at you.

With a scream, you lurch backwards, falling to the floor.

The monster woman winks at you, amused.

“What’s wrong?” Rose and Adrian rush into the room, picking you up.

“The-the-the…” You can barely string words together, terrified as you are. “The stalker, they’re here—”

You point to the window, but all you can see are tree branches waving in the wind.

“…This is the third floor,” Rose reminds you gently.

“I know that, but I swear I saw them,” you say, growing frustrated. Now they probably thought you were going insane too. “I…”

“I believe you.” Adrian rubs a comforting hand across your back. “Whether or not you imagined it, the reality is that the stalker has you freaked out. How about we get out of here?”

You blink up at him. “What?” Sure, this apartment no longer felt safe and you wanted to leave, but wasn’t it an inconvenience for them?

“Road trip!” Rose is already waving her car keys at you. “Let’s go for a drive.”

*****

"You guys don't have to do all this for me," you repeat for what feels like the millionth time.

And for the millionth time, Rose replies, "Don't worry about it, okay? What kind of garbage friends would we be if we just let you feel scared this whole time?"

"Just in case you wanted to know, my offer to confront and beat up your stalker is still on the table," says Adrian from the back.

"No, Adrian," you and Rose say instantly. You both exchange a glance and end up cracking up.

"Trust you two to bond over something like that," grumbles Adrian, trying and failing to hide his own laughter.

Rose teases him and you listen to their silly banter, smile not leaving your face. So good to have people on your side, that listen to you and take care of you. The foggy, overcast morning weather doesn’t affect your mood at all.

As she drives, Rose squints at something down the road. "Do you guys see that?" she asks.

"See what?" You stare through the windshield, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

"Could've sworn I saw a deer," she mutters. "Well, if it's off the road I guess it doesn't matter. Music, anyone?" She looks to the radio, one hand turning the dial to find a good station.

The second Rose's eyes are off the road, you see it. The deer, standing completely still in the glow of the headlights.

"Rose, look out—"

She looks up and yells, yanking the steering wheel to make a hard left turn. As she does, you swear that the deer's eyes follow you.

All three of you scream as the car practically flies off the road, crashing right through a railing and going straight into a huge tree by the side of the forest. Airbags deploy just in time to prevent you from slamming into the windshield.

Shaken, you call out for your friends but don't hear an answer. You manage to get to the door handle on your side, falling out of the totaled car just as it suddenly bursts into flames.

"What…?" You simply stare at the fiery wreckage for a moment, utterly at a loss, before gathering your frazzled thoughts together. Stumbling to the back car door, you wrench it open and try to drag Adrian's limp body out of his seat.

"Stop, stop," he wheezes. "My leg...it's stuck." He gestures, indicating the leg that is trapped underneath part of the caved in car roof. "Go...get Rose. Please."

You nod and, after trying to make him a bit comfortable in his seat, run over to the driver's side. It looks even worse, with the window cracked open and streaked with blood and one of her hands poking out through the hole.

Tears streaming down your face, partly from the sting of the thick smoke, you open the driver door and Rose falls out of her seat. The airbag had deployed, yes, but it didn't protect her from pieces of glass. Pieces of the window had broken and stabbed her in multiple places. You try to stop trembling long enough to get her pulse. You don't feel anything at her wrist.

"This is all my fault," you choke out. "I'm so sorry."

With a sob, you lay Rose's body down on the forest floor and go back to check on Adrian.

"Adrian, Rose is gone, and I'm so sor—"

You stop in your tracks.

The sight before you is unmistakable, even through the gloomy fog. The woman that you've only seen in hazy orange-tinted dreams is leaning over Adrian's unmoving body. Her copper leg glints in the light from the flames that match those erupting from her head. Blood drips from the open car door, pooling in the grass.

She turns to you, giving you a bloody grin. You can see her clearly now and despite your pain, your jaw drops.

"Eliane…?"

This shock proves to be too much for you, and you rapidly lose consciousness.

*****

You wake up in your own bed, feeling sore all over. You've got a pounding headache and you're not entirely sure why. Sitting up, you rub at your eyes and look around.

Eliane sits at the foot of your bed, watching you fondly. You freeze, uncertain of what to do.

"No need to fear me, dear," she says with a comforting smile. It just makes you shudder. You lean back against the headboard and wrap your blankets around yourself. You're not cold, and yet you can't stop shivering.

Memories of recent events come flooding back. "Oh, no, Rose and Adrian..."

Eliane's face falls dramatically. "I'm afraid they're both gone now. They didn't even have your best interests at heart. Not to worry, though. You have me now." And her expression brightens right back up.

You can only stare at her, wide eyed. What is she talking about? And what about that dream woman?

As if she senses your thoughts, she holds up a finger. Then she stands, twirling in circles. As she does, tongues of flame lick their way up her body. Her skin ripples and changes, one of her legs turns to copper, and her hair gets longer and grayer. When she stops, she doesn't hide her long claw-like nails or her fangs as she sits back down.

"What-what are you?"

"Empusa." The foreign word rolls off her tongue. "A servant of the goddess Hecate. And I have chosen you to be my human."

"Why me..." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I was drawn to you, and to your blood," she says with a predatory glint in her eyes. "I've had the blood of many a person, but none smell as sweet as yours. That is why."

Shuddering, you think about her leaning over Adrian's prone form and feel nauseous. "So you're a vampire?"

Eliane throws back her head and laughs. "Many have mistaken me for a vampire, which I suppose isn't very far off. I can shapeshift into more than just a bat, though. My goddess has given me more useful powers."

"Goddess? Vampires?"

"Oh, so many creatures are very much real, darling." She casually runs a hand through silvery hair. "However, I won't allow any of them near you. None of them can have you."

At those words you flinch, shrinking away from her. "Wh-what are you saying?"

Eliane's fangs shine in the moonlight as she comes closer to you. "I'm saying that you're mine. Now and forever. I'll forgive you just this once, but don't ever try to escape from me again..." She lifts a hand, running razor-sharp nails down your cheek. "You'll learn to love me. You'll see."

*****

The next day, you work alongside two new people you haven't met before. Aside from work-related topics, they hardly speak to you, and you notice that the both of them tend to physically stay away from you at all times. Even when you're all side-by-side at the registers, they manage to keep their distance.

Eliane walks by to see how everything's doing, and both of them nod at her and then quickly look back to their work. When she comes to you, she smiles sweetly. You force yourself to smile back. Satisfied, she walks away, not seeing how your hands tremble underneath the table. As she passes you, a scent that used to be so pleasant now paralyzes you. Cinnamon and honey, a little spicy and sickly sweet.

[fortunatelylori]

Why the Jon/Daenerys romance doesn’t work (Part 1)

Are D&D really idiots?

Disclaimer: So ... my experience with Tumblr is veeeery limited ... as in this is my first post on here so if I fail to link things properly, give credit for gifs, caps or other people’s creations in an appropriate manner, I apologize in advance. Please let me know if you notice something like that and I will change things accordingly.

I have been scrolling around the site for about a week now, after having revisited season 7 of GOT. I will freely admit in advance that I ship Jonsa. However, for what it’s worth, when season 7 first came out, I was more than ready to abandon my Jonsa dreams and get on board with the Jonerys love fest, since everyone around me assured me that it was the end all be all of romance. After seeing the episodes for the first time, I was completely underwhelmed but I ignored my gut feelings because well ... everyone assured me that Jon and Dany were oh, so meant to be. Who am I to fight fate, I thought?!? So I just shrugged and moved on with my life.

However, part of the problem with this ship is that the more time passes, the more people like me, who actually enjoy watching and rewatching the same thing over and over again, start to see the cracks in it. I don’t mean to offend anyone that ships Jonerys, even though I probably will or anyone who likes Dany. Personally, I’ve had a whole host of problems with her character but I will refrain from commenting on my issues with her in this series and just give an opinion on why this story has the deepest scent of red herring since the invention of red herrings.

Before I get into it, I will keep these metas mainly focused on the story from a scriptwriting POV, since that was my job for a time. This series will be less focused on visual cues, camera angles and such. People with far more patience and experience have already done this so I will focus my observations around my area of expertise, such as it is.

In this first part I will try to dispel a few notions about  David Benioff, D.B. Weiss and their writing crew.

One of the common defenses for Jonerys, is that the creators of GOT are simply not every good at their job. They are unable to craft a decent love story for these two characters.

So the guys who created the most popular TV show on Earth, a show that HBO has invested hundreds of millions of dollars into, are hacks. Ok … 

Why do people believe that? Well, for a number of reasons:

1)      The show does not have the thematic scope and wealth of characters that GRRM included in his series

This is true. From the direwolves, to the missing characters, to entire plot threads, prophecies and themes upon themes, D&D have significantly simplified GRRM’s work.

But I would argue this is not because they don’t know how to do their jobs, but rather because they do know how to do it.

GRRM’s himself has said that he started writing ASOIAF out of sheer frustration with being a scriptwriter. Writing a book IS an extremely liberating experience after writing scripts. Why? Because words on a page cost nothing, aside from time and creativity. The sky is the limit.

The sky is absolutely not the limit when you’re a scriptwriter. You are constrained by all sorts of things like: money, sets, weather, daylight vs. night time, actors ‘availability etc. You’re always looking at what you can condense, tighten up. You’re always cutting words out of lines to make them sharper, regrouping scenes so you can maximize your locations, cut out all the fat so you can get an episode that is the required length.

And then there’s the all important element: the audience. People have different reactions to reading something vs. watching something. You read to get lost in a world, the journey is the main entertainment. In contrast, you come back week after week to watch a TV show to see what your favorite characters are getting up to.

Considering all of this, is it really surprising that they would cut out things like the young Griff or fArya from the show? Does anyone believe that the general audience out there cares about them? No. They want to see Jon, Arya, Tyrion, Dany … And they also want to see progression. A season of Tyrion on a boat thinking about stuff is not an option.

Also, GOT has quite a reputation for having a hellava lot of characters. Just watch the honest trailer that Screen Junkies have done:

At around the 3:20 mark they point out all the characters whose names you remember and all those you don’t. And it’s hilarious. Why? Because it’s true.

By season 3, people were still struggling to remember Littlefinger’s actual name. How do you think they’d fair with all the Greyjoys that pop up in the books like mushrooms after the rain?

So yes, D&D and their team cut out themes, characters and storylines for the sake of brevity. That’s what scriptwriters have to do, as sad as it may sound. That’s not to say they do everything right but by and large they’ve done a decent enough job for me not to assume they can’t write a proper love story for 2 characters that they’ve been working with for 6 seasons.

2)      Emilia and Kit have chemistry in real life so if that didn’t translate on screen, it’s because the scriptwriters were doing a terrible job at tapping into it

See, I would almost buy into that if it wasn’t for the fact that their scenes aren’t poorly conceived but rather are actively undermining the budding romance. You never get a sense of completion, of certainty from any of them. I will go through every scene in my next post, but for now, I’d just like to draw your attention to this moment:

(source: @dreamofspring )

We’ll leave aside character motivations on this for now, but if the script writers put that line in there to further advance the Jonerys romance, then they shouldn’t be in charge of writing commercials, let alone multimillion productions.

Are we to assume they simply forgot the other two instances where this line was used?

They revisited the Tower of Joy this season but apparently no alarm bells went off in the writer’s room at this:

(source:  @dreamofspring​)

They paralleled Jon’s arc this season to Mance Rayder’s but nope, simply forgot about this:

This script went through a dozen rewrites and probably 100 hands by the time it made it to the screen and yet at no point did anyone think: “Hey guys maybe we shouldn’t have Jon say good bye to his lady love by quoting Mance right before he was burned alive.” Those silly, silly writers.

3)      The show has taken a dive quality wise since they can’t follow GRRM’s source material any longer

There is some validity to this, I will admit. This season we’ve seen the likes of Tyrion, Varys and Littlefinger lose some of their vital energy and characteristics that have made them such interesting, fun characters to watch.

The Littlefinger plot, in particular, was poorly executed. In their desire to leave us in the dark about what was happening in order to have what amounted to a cheap twist at the end, we were given a convoluted, clunky mystery plot where everyone was playing everyone else but not really. While I’m glad, on principal, that the show established the Stark sisters coming together as a unit against a common foe, giving Littlefinger such a stupid ending left a bitter taste in my mouth. Not a worthy completion to the arc of one of the best players of the Game of Thrones at all. So yes, they dropped the ball on that one.

Tyrion and Varys are a different matter. The main reason why they’re rather ineffective and sidelined is because they probably shouldn’t be there in the first place. That’s because their entire vision on life, justice and good kingship comes directly at odds with Dany’s “Fire and blood” policy. They are just now starting to worry about this predicament but they’re both far too smart not to have noticed until now. The woman brought 3 dragons and a Dothraki horde into Westeros. What did they think she was going to do with them? Play boggle?!?

If I try really hard, I can find an explanation for Tyrion. I think, probably, he’s still reeling for the trial and murdering dad so he’s not in the best state of mind.

Varys however? He definitely shouldn’t be there. He should be with young Griff which makes much more sense since it’s very likely there is a deep, personal connection there that would make the usually cynical and skeptical Varys trust that the person he is actively supporting is actually best for the realm. But alas, young Griff doesn’t exist so he’s stuck with Dany, until he finally turncoats and gets burned alive. So brevity is at fault here.

All that being said, I think it’s unfair to assert that the show runners have dropped the ball. That’s because the more I think about it, the more season 7 looks like a part of a whole, instead of an arc on its own. There are too many open ended questions, too many character choices that don’t make sense (particularly Jon who is, by far, the central character this season) for it to feel complete.

Season 7 is like the Infinity War part 1 of Game of Thrones. You can analyze it on its own but you can’t really determine its true quality or meaning until you see Part 2.

I know this got very long so thank you to everyone that had the patience to read until the end. J