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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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goodguydotmp3 · 4 years

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two questions: why don’t you like harry and do you really think harry villanized the weed video or do you think that was the people attempting to court him (azoffs)

Whew, this is a long one folx!

Why don’t you like Harry [Styles]?

Let me preface this response by saying that I’m a pretty new “fan” if one can still call me that. I got into the One Direction fandom in the summer of last year, and much of my opinions of the boys where shaped by fan reactions. After gathering more and more information however, I realized that the fandom and I were wrong about some things, and over hyping others.

Still, it wasn’t until this year that I actually broke out of the Harry-centric bubble to realize that the shady goings on where much worse than I originally thought. Add to this my realization that Harry’s music really doesn’t withstand the test of time, and that his persona is pretty Stagnant, and I’ve come to feel rather bamboozled.

Of course I know that the entire point of his PR team is to sway public opinion of him one way, and if I ate it up that was part of the plan. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. It also doesn’t mean I feel any less hurt about it. It also doesn’t mean that I like when other people fawn over him, as quite a lot of what I’m going to say has been public knowledge, and some of it before I was even a fan.

A. Music

Actually getting to a big part of the problem here, his music isn’t good. Well, not long term like I said in the preface. He doesn’t really have much of a vocal range despite being a singer for more than ten years. He does not care and acts like he does, often leading to him sounding like he’s screaming instead of singing. He’s lyrics are boring and flat, and his melodies are fine, they just don’t make up for his unmemorable lyrics. I personally think that the cause is him more heavily relying on song writers to fill in more in more, but that’s mostly because I don’t want to believe that the same person who wrote Happily and Olivia also wrote At the Dining Table and Treat People With Kindness, because that would just mean he’s getting worse or putting forth less effort.

Of course one could argue that I’m not a professional, I don’t have the necessary Jargon to correctly critique, and I’m no longer a singer so I can’t even do what he does. But to that I say fuck off. I know what sounds good! I know what I like!

Even more than that though, If you bought a product (non food), and you could only use that product for the first two weeks you bought it, you’d say it was a shit product! You’d scream from the rooftops that no one should ever buy this product because it’s crap! Well guess what? I pre-ordered Fine Line just to listen for two weeks and never pick it up again except for golden, she’s a funky tune every couple months.

Besides the test of time, there is still the subject of actual talent/listenability if you will. I feel there’s four main categories when I listen to music that makes it worth listening to

1.Amazing voice

2.Awesome lyrics

3.Funky/ cool ass melody/Beat

4.Catchy as hell

Now, a song doesn’t need to be all four, however the more they have the more likely I am to like the song. Also, I’ve said “main categories” because I’ve definitely had songs were I just through the beat drop was cool, or maybe the bridge was sick as hell, or maybe I just liked the pacing or the way the singer/singers stressed a note. Alternatively there is a sweet spot for me of super depressing lyrics but a melody/ that makes you want to dance. See: most of After Laughter by Paramore, Lola By Mika. But in general, those four usually make me love a song long term.

If it’s an album, it usually Just has to sound like it belongs on the same album/ tell a story. Like I really don’t like albums that sound like it’s just a playlist of songs personally. I should be able to listen to a song and go “oh yeah, that’s off --- album” or I didn’t like the album as a whole. An album is a bit like an outfit to me. It’s not going to be all tops, nor does it need to be monochromatic, but it does need to go together

For Example, I love Four as an album. I thought it was amazing. I still hate Spaces and Illusion. I hate both of their melodies, I don’t like the Illusion intro, I’m not to keen on those lyrics, and they’re definitely not catchy, I skip every time.

So taking that logic to Harry’s music, I think HS1 works very well as an album, almost all of the songs sound like they’re supposed to be there. And I hate every song but Kiwi. The lyrics are boring/don’t make a ton of sense, the melodies definitely don’t make up for that, he doesn’t have the range, and none of them are catchy! And then you get to Kiwi and she’s got that vibe you know? She’s a pop punk bop and I cannot fucking believe that Harry has one pop punk bop among unmemorable pop rock album.

Going to Fine line, It’s not as great as an album. There are some songs that don’t really feel like they fit? Like just going through the album, cherry doesn’t have any business being there? Like the lyrics fit sure, but what is that weird intro and outro? It probably would have been fine If the song didn’t have those two, but having them there upset the pace a bit I felt. And then there was Treat People With Kindness, which was really Jarring and doesn’t feel like it belongs on the album at all? It actually feels like it’s trying to be Kiwi - it’s loud and garish, and the lyrics are trying to be carefree, but! It just doesn’t work! TPWK sounds like Hippie music! Kiwi sounds like Brendon Urie could sing it and people would be like “good ol Panic!”. And then the album goes back down into Fine line the song, which again is Jarring because you’ve had this TPWK monstrosity right before it.

Then, looking at the overarching theme of his music, It’s whiny piss baby music He hates to take responsibility for his actions! It’s all in his lyrics! And don’t get me wrong, I love Honest lyrics, but not if the person is an asshole! LIke I fucking hate confessions by Usher specifically becasue he’s talking about how much he’s a piece of shit in the most whiny and piss baby way, making it all about him and no the people he hurt. I also really hate that one song that Zayn did with Usher and Chris Brown, because you have these awful men completely misunderstanding what it means to write a love song, and then you have Zayn at the very end all like “actually I really am in love tho…” Esp Chris browns verse! It boils down to “Hey I know I was a asshole seven billion times but I miss you tho :(“ GIRL BYE!

Harry sounds the exact same though, Except he can’t even blame himself for his own mistakes, and just wades through self pity about how the object of his affection won’t love him even though he didn’t even do anything except it wasn’t his fault and why are you still mad it wasn’t even his fault and he was young and reckless and drunk and horny. Like??? WRITE A NEW SONG TAYLOR SWIFT 2.0! There’s only so much you can repackage the same narrative before it becomes stale no Cinderella does not count keep that shit coming. And It really jumps out in his writing, even through 1d, although I will say there were some catchy beats, and awesome lines to keep him afloat back then. Although wtf was Walking in the Wind??? Choke!

Then there are the melodies I’m talking post wondee here which often give this 70’s pop rock vibe. Which fine I guess, it’s his brand, but that doesn’t make it interesting. Or new. Or fresh. Or an interesting take.

Now I completely understand relying on nostalgia to boost people’s opinion, but you could at leas have the decency to actually have good music. For Example, Miss you by Louis Tomlinson has a very distinctive pop rock feel, but it’s also an amazing song. Great lyrics, amazing voice, catchy liddle diddy that happens to be reminiscent of that 2005- 2010 punk pop/emo pop feel. Sour diesel has that like,,,basey 90s pop feel, and it fucking works with the lyrics, and of course his voice is beautiful. When Walls dropped and Lou put out that playlist of songs that were an inspiration, you can hear the influences when you listen to the album, but they’re also really good songs in their own right, with amazing lyrics, and Louis’ distinctive voice. Comparing that to Harry, it seems like he’s mostly relying on people’s nostalgia rather than actually good music.

Okay so this last point I’m making on music is a little petty but it’s been like a week and I’m still pissed about it so I’m saying it now. Someone said that Harry Styles is the best pop rock artist right now???? Just admit that you don’t listen to pop rock tf. Louis Tomlinson is right there. Brendon Urie is right there. Mika is right there. Haley Williams is right there. Janell Monae is right there. I don’t listen to a lot of pop rock lol but i feel my point has been made

B. Public Persona

He get’s so much clout! SO MUCH CLOUT! For doing the bare minimum (this is not specifically about the fandom, that’s for later)! People will write all these glowing reviews of him for him??? Being polite??? Like okay and? Just because a person is polite doesn’t mean they’re fucking Jesus??? There’s a million and one stories so i’m not fucking looking them up but there’s the pizza story and the fish story and the plane story and the snl story and the Stormzy story and the WS story on and on and on! Stop giving this man brownie points for basic human decency. “I didn’t expect him to be like that!” okay is that because of their perception of what a rock star is supposed to be like? Because in that case we need to start holding people accountable for being assholes. Or is it because he seems like an asshole. Cause valid.

I also don’t like him leaning so heavily on the queer image thing. Like! If that’s how he likes to express himself, Fine, But so much of it is just...so manufactured! And I Know I’ve heard people say oh well he wore the one rainbow on his lapel that one time or he wore the shirt or he wore the Keith Harring.

1. That Rainbow pin is sus as hell I don’t care what ya’ll say It absolutely screams set up, if he wanted to not be seen he would have not been seen

2. That goes for literally every other time. I can’t believe it’s not a set up to push a queer image. (that he profits from!)

3. If he actually did his homework on Keith Harring he’d know that the man was a predator, and he wouldn’t have worn those shirts. It seems so performative! To add to that, does he know now? If so, why isn’t he using his platform to correct his mistake? Why didn’t he come out and let people know not to buy Harring’s stuff??? He knows the pull he has! He absolutely could have been like “I’ve made a mistake, if you are looking for queer artists to support, here’s some” But he fucking doesn’t

4. To add on to that last part, It is actually sus that he gets to profit off of this queer image, and yet the only queer voices that he’s propping up are white gays. And then not even directly? Not a “queer artists, esp queer artists of color are important and need their voices boosted because they are the back bone of society” but this wink nod type of deal, where again, he mainly boosts white gays.like??? One queer black woman that doesn’t work for the Azoffs, and then a bunch of white gays. Like?? That’s not racist to anyone else???????Just me? okay.

Now from a professional point of view, it’s even worse. I’m not saying that artists can’t be campy or blurr gender lines, or imply that they ‘re queer subtly. But I think it’s fucking disrespectful to play both ends. Like, he profits off of using the queer image, all while Dancing around the subject, but then on the back end he never says that Homophobes/Transphobes aren’t allowed in his fandom. He gives this empty ass tpwk and then washes his hands of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am always upset when people who have lots of queerphobes in their fandom bullying and harassing the actual queer people never say anything to let queerphobes know they’re unwelcome (clearly money is better than morals) but for me it’s an extra kick to the gut for it to literally profit Harry to seem queer. Look at that time that gay company sold out shirts in less than an hour,because harry was wearing it and tell me people aren’t throwing money at him because they feel he’s queer.

C. Fashion

This one is a really rough one for me because this is partially what drew me into Harry in the first place. But he’s really not all that in terms of fashion. He’s expensive certainly, but sometimes, the things that are more expensive are worse. Even When He’s not looking like a grandparent out on the town, his style is very dated, and yet he gets paraded around like he’s the freshest new thing?? Like who is his team paying of for him to get that many articles about how he’s fashion’s biggest star. And the thing is, his style is even dated for the mainstream. There’s already a post about how he copies prominent pop/pop rock stars of the 70s, which means that his style is 50 years old for the mainstream. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s totally fine if you’re addicted to seventies wear. I don’t think he should be heralded as this huge fashion star if his wardrobe is this dated

Even more than that. Gucci???? The Gucci with a history of Racism?? The Gucci with the child labor??? The Gucci with the 14 hour days Gucci??? Ugly ass Gucci????? Soulja Boy don’t even fuck with Gucci no more and he fuck with Gucci since like 2007. (although that was because of the racism, not cause it’s ugly)

I think that bothers me the most though. Like it’s not enough to exploit people, you also have to be tacky ugly and expensive???? For what??? @Gucci cease to exist please.

If Harry wants to be tacky ugly and expensive, that’s of course his rights to do so! But don’t act like he’s at the very pinnacle of fashion every time he does.

I’m actually always very conflicted about that. I personally prefer a style that’s very loud and campy and avant garde but like,,,,that ain’t it. Maybe it’s something you got it or ya don’t??? Like for example Billy Porter could wear a trashbag and make it work. The expensive sweaters and the slacks? The suits? Not a good look on one Harry Styles. Maybe it’s because they’re expensive sweaters and slacks and expensive suits. What are you, Ted from accounting??? Grow up.

D. Treat People With Kindness

Ugh this is the thing that pisses me off like the second to most. This phrase is so fucking empty. You could not have made up a more corporate mandated phrase if you fucking tried. It stands for nothing! Just like him!

Let’s break it down. “Treat people with kindness” is, at face value, a call to action. It’s asking you to do something. But it doesn’t actually tell you what to do!! So it’s pretty inoffensive! You don’t actually have to change your behavior in anyway for two main reasons:

1. What the hell is Kindness??? This phrase never actually says what it is??? It’s just this short little punchy thing that assumes you know what kindness is! What if you didn’t actually know? What if you have differing ideals of what is considered kindness? I mean to my mother, Misgendering me is kindness, but I don’t think that’s kindness. To my father, not letting his children have autonomy is kindness, but I don’t find that kind. And yet they could both use that phrase and feel confident that they go around treating people with kindness. After all they cooked dinner didn’t they? They smiled at Janice from public relations didn’t they? That’s kindness right?

2. It also assumes you know what “people” are. Queer people are people. Queerphobes don’t consider queer people, people. Racists aren’t going to consider some people, people. So they can continue their harassment and dehumanization of them and still be treating people with kindness, because they never harmed actual people (to them)

E. Harry bots

Bitch?? Corporate spies?? Tf ??? That’s not weird to ya’ll ?? I think the thing that shocked me more than someone from Colombia records admitting that he manufactures the hype around people signed to Colombia, is the fact that the Fandom been knew!!!! Ya’ll been knew and ya’ll wasn’t gon tell me???????? I just found out last week wtf????????

Another thing I don’t like about them Harry bots, is it’s one thing to hype up Harry, but why tf do they need to shit on the other boys??? Is it because they’re more talented, good looking, and charming??? How about you get good!!!! I esp hate that it’s usually Louis. What is Corporate’s obsession with putting Louis down like? What a bunch of fucking weirdos?? It’s not enough to be a Harry fan and live up his ass, I gotta hate Louis too?? You lost yo damn mind. If you reading this and you a spy? Die.

F. Capitalism

Honestly that should be the end of it but here the fuck we go I guess. Now I get that there is going to be some capitalism involved when you get music, especially mainstream music, there are tones of articles out there with people who used to be in the industry telling you about how fucking awful it is, all in the pursuit of money. (Which isn’t fucking real by the way! We made it up! People out here getting traumatized! Belittled! Bullied! Married off! So some corporation can make all the money! The Imaginary Credits! That we made up! I hate it here!)

But it’s another fucking thing to participate in a capitalist system? He invested into that one sleep app, even going to do one of the voice sessions (So you could have Harry Styles themed sleep paralysis) and you pay for that! He makes money off that! It’s not enough that you buy his mediocre music or his ugly ass merch, you also have to give him money through the sleep paralysis app.

Then there was that Google Camp for Rich People Only! I don’t even want to fucking hear that it was on Climate Change oh wow all the rich people took helicopters and Yachts to a resort with manicured lawns??? To talk about how they treat the environment? That’s not at all Counter intuitive! Not at all for show! Fucking disgusting.

Oh and the Covid Shirt! Really bitch??? You need to Profit off a deadly pandemic? Are you profiting off of AIDS next you fucking bastard. And he can of course get a tax write of for his “ charitable donation” fuck off.

G. Racism

This! This is the thing that gets me the most! YA’LL CAN EXCUSE RACISM???

No, I’m not talking about the Native American Headdress thing, that was plenty despicable on it’s own, No I’m talking about the on going racism. The whole, using black people for clout and then dropping them and never returning the favor when they sing his praises thing. Specifically I’m thinking of Sis the activist, Stormzy, and Lizzo.

The Lizzo thing pisses me off the most actually. I think it’s very fucking convenient that Harry started taking interest in Lizzo after there was uproar from black fans noting his hypocrisy of performing for Pepsi (Notoriously racist) and Having BLM sticker on his guitar. So he shows up at one of her concerts dressed like a senior citizen that got lost on the way to the retirement home bathroom. She looked fucking amazing and he couldn’t put forth the effort to at least not look senile. Then there was the covering of her songs, and then there was the cuddling up with her at the awards show. Funny how I haven’t seen any interaction after the fact! And Of course everyone forgot about the Pepsi concert! Fuck all the way off!!

Also! Are we just never going to talk about the fact that he didn’t comment on the blm protests earlier this year until his team could gauge whether or not it would be profitable to do so by DATA MINING HIS FAN BASE???? And then when he actually did he got the most praise for it, truly fucking hate it here. Also when he marched with those protesters he made sure we knew it was him. There were posts flouting around everywhere on how to best cover up to make yourself completely unrecognizable should you wind up on camera or fucking worse, get attacked by the police. Funny how Close Sprouse could follow the advice and not Harry? Also supper funny how he got the hell out of dodge before things got super bad and I have not heard anything on the matter since. Guess what Harry??? We’re still out here fighting for the rights to exist! Still wanna have a photo op while our own government tries to squash us with force????? This is like that Jenner Pepsi ad but with sunglasses and a pandemic.

H. Fandom

I think I would hate him less if I didn’t have to hear about him every hour of everyday. Stop Hyping this man so much. Even after unfollowing and blocking a bunch of Harries and Larries he’s all across my dash. And twitter. And insta. KURTIS CONNER FUCKING LIKES HIM I JUST WANTED CRACK CONTENT AND NOW LOOK.

I. Conclusion.

After writing all this I think the running theme is that Harry Styles isn’t even a person, he’s a brand. I do not like or trust brands! And I definitely don’t like being advertised to! Just like It’s fake as fuck when Absolut is all about queer rights, it’s fake as fuck when Harry does it too. Just like I know Target doesn’t actually care about Black lives, I know Harry doesn’t either. People are always like “oh he’s so nice!” no! He’s polite! There’s a difference. Zayn Is a truly kind person. Liam is a truly kind person. Louis is a truly kind person. It shines though so brightly all the time, and yet people are really out here worshiping the Brand Harry Styles.

Do I think It was Harry or The Azoffs throwing Zouis under the bus.

Truly doesn’t matter! Whichever one did it, Harry was totally fine with it! Which tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. He’ll go along with anything as long as it gets him to the top, and that’s fucked up on one million and one levels

#hazza curly mchazzerson #This is like 4 thousand words #Have fun #Harry Styles

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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You won a seven nights stay in Paris, ch 2 (Branjie) - Evelyn Bubbles

Ehy there! It’s your girl Ev back on the beat, so happy for all the love on the first chapter, this is a slow burn so stay tuned you won’t regret it. I want to gradually build some tension and in this chapter we’ll see some. Enjoy! Also just wanted to add that this fanfiction doesn’t take in consideration canon, so take this as they never had a thing on the show and they’re falling in love just now.

Waking up alone in Paris is one thing, waking up besides a handsome man in a beautiful bed in an even more beautiful apartment in the best part of the city is another. Brooke yawned, lazily turning off the alarm set for 8 am, and gradually lifted Vanessa’s arm from her waist. “Please mom, five more minutes…”. “I’m not your mom, Vanjielina… and you’re heavy”, Brooke giggled sitting on the bed and gently running her fingers through her friend’s messy hair. She wasn’t much of a touchy-feely type, except for her cats, which she loved to cuddle with, but Vanessa had that warm and welcoming aura to her, she couldn’t help but relax and open up. The day before they had just walked to Notre Dame (a quite long walk actually), got an ice cream, took some nice pictures on one of the bridges, hanging out like life long friends. Then, they had come back to their apartment, quite wasted from the crazy jet lag, and they had fallen asleep almost immediately; Vanessa still had her t-shirt on. Brooke thanked her for forgetting to take that off: she didn’t know what she would’ve done seeing her toned chest naked, with that amber skin exposed and flushed. Brooke went to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of comfy jeans and a t-shirt, and took a nice shower, casually leaving the door open. She didn’t know what she meant with that: was it an invitation? Was it just because they were close enough at that point? They had in fact spent so many weeks shoulder to shoulder, but the atmosphere during Drag Race filming was radically different from the relaxing vacation they were having. That many men all together, cut off from the rest of the world, it was hard to resist. It was then when Brooke had started to look at Vanessa differently. But when they came home she thought that it had been just a consequence of the situation, a casualty. Instead, as the words of the iconic song said, the cause had been removed… but the symptom stayed. She immediately switched the water temperature from hot to cold. She needed it.

////

“Where we going today sis?”, Vanessa asked as soon as they stepped out of the house. “The Musée d’Orsay. There are a lot of beautiful sculptures and paintings there, even some Van Goghs. I planned this trip hoping to go with my best friend, and he’s kinda into arts, so I hope you don’t get too bored”, Brooke said slightly worried. Classic Canadian courtesy. Vanessa smiled and patted her arm: “Don’t worry sis it’s all good. I love arts. Plus, you could explain some shit to me. You’re giving me this cultured vibe”. “I’m really not, but thank you. In the museums I usually try to listen to a guide who’s telling stuff to a group of tourists, and I grab some info from them. We could do the same thing”. “Yeah, I love mooching culture. Agreed. Let’s go”. “I wouldn’t call it mooching”. “How would you call it”. “Oh, we’re just there… casually listening”. “Why don’t you get an audio guide then”. Brooke smirked: “I’d rather listen to your weird comments about the paitings and sculptures. You can be really funny Vanj". “Maybe that’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me. But how can I blame y'all, it’s true”. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. Now let’s get on this subway, it’s damn late”.

////

Vanessa was completely silent, staring at one of the biggest paintings in the whole museum, “L'école de Platon”. She bit her lip and got closer to the painting. Brooke found her like that, eyes scanning every single inch of the painting with an inquisitive stare. “Hey Vanjielina”, she asked, “What are you looking at?”. “This painting. I know no French but apparently it’s like a lesson or something. Plato is teaching. Beautiful, isn’t it”. Brooke approached her to look at the painting, but Vanessa grabbed her by the arm and brought them a few feet back. “Here. You have to watch it from afar first, and then you can get closer. Just like with another person”, she said, unusually soft. Then, she went back to her previous spot, standing perfectly still, captivated. So, Brooke let her eyes admire the stunning painting from the perspective Vanessa had chose for her: the scene depicted was a garden in Ancient Greece, where many beautiful young men, barely clothed, were listening to the philosopher talk. Brooke got one step closer, and as she walked towards the painting she started noticing more and more details: the veins of the leaves, the single strands of hair, the lights and shadows of the boys’ muscles. Vanessa became part of the painting herself: the curve of her back, her hand on her hip, the tight fabric of the jeans agains her legs, her short, dark hair hidden under her hat, they all seemed to fuse with the painting, as if she was listening to Plato as well, covered in only a piece of pastel fabric, with laurel leaves on her head. Brooke walked right besides her, and stood still as she examined the lines of her nose, lips and chin from just a few inches away. “Have you noticed?”. “What?”, Brooke asked. “All the details. Amazing”. Vanessa had never sounded more serious. Brooke nodded: “Were they all this gay in Ancient Greece?”, she asked jokingly, referring to the boys’ naked bodies all so close to each other. Vanessa chuckled: “If so, gimme a damn time machine girl because this looks like literal heaven. I mean, look at their abs and thighs. Fuck. Perfection. Look, they even have a goddamn white peacock there. It can’t get any gayer than this”. “Trust me, we can find a gayer painting”. Vanessa smirked: “Wanna bet?”. They shook hands: “Bet”.

////

Vanessa and Brooke spent two hours total, almost running all around the Musee D'Orsay, trying to find a gayer painting, failing miserably. They found each other again in front of which was probably the biggest work of art in the whole museum, called “Les Romains de la Décadence”, a scene of daily life in the Roman era, at the baths. “Found anything?”. “Nope”, Vanessa shook her head. “Well, that ecol of something something was pretty gay. I doubt we’ll find anything better in the whole damn vacation”. “So you give up, mh”. “I’m not giving up, I’m just saying it’s fucking hard. And also I’m hungry, I wanna eat. Let’s get out of here”. “Agreed”. They turnt around, going towards the entrance, when Vanessa stopped suddenly and pointed at the big painting. “Wait, Brooke, sis!”, she laughed, “This lady looks like you in drag”. Brooke followed Vanessa’s finger as she was guided to a beautiful woman wrapped in white clothes, laying in the centre of the painting. She looked slightly bored, but beautiful indeed, and she has a long nose and big lips. “She only kinda looks like me”, Brooke said, “But thanks, it means you find me as beautiful as a work of art”. Vanessa’s big brown eyes were all over her. Then, she said simply: “Yes”.

////

They had lunch at a local café, sitting alone at a table eating pan au chocolat, a classical french sweet with bread and dark chocolate, and got coffees. T hey weren’t in the mood for an actual lunch, they would’ve had plenty of occasions for that in the next few days. “It’s so fucking good”, Vanessa said biting into her pan au chocolat. “I know right? We don’t have this in Canada. Or at least not this good”. “I’m a slut for good chocolate”. “You’re a slut in general”. “Excuse me, I’m a respectable young lady!”. Brooke laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “What’s up next then?”, Vanessa asked after a couple of seconds of silence. Brooke looked at her notes app: “Mont Martre tonight, and I’ve also found the best crepes place in all Paris at the bottom of the hill. You like cheese, right?”. “Bitch have you seen me? I ain’t got this thick eating fruits and shits. I love cheese”. Brooke chuckled: “Happy to hear that, because they do excellent cheese crepes. And also sweet ones, like with nuts and strawberries and whatever you want. It should be super good”. Vanessa smiled widely: “You got me excited now, fuck! You’ve really planned this mh?”. “Yeah I did, even though it’s a plan shaped around Steve and me, so like… do you wanna go to the Louvre some time?”. “That’s where the Mona Lisa is, right? Of course I wanna go, I wanna see what’s the buzz all about. Like, is she really that special? Miss Thing thinks she’s a legend but they haven’t seen my portrait yet”. “Do you have a portrait?”. Vanessa hesitated for a second: “Well, no, I don’t, but I’ll have one”. “Where?”. “In the painter place. Isn’t it in Mont Martre?”. Brooke smiled, suprised: “Oh, so you know about it”. “I do know shit bitch! I’m very eloquent”, says Vanessa taking another sip. They didn’t get up until the sun had started setting in the beautiful Parisian sky.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #au #smut #pining #fluff #evelyn bubbles #ywa7nsip #submission #canon compliant #s11

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carmenlire · 6 years

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Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 27

First of all, check out this BEAUTIFUL edit for Alec’s single Carousel that the amazing, talented @kindaresilient created <3 :’)

read on ao3

Walking into his loft, Magnus tosses his keys into the bowl he keeps in the foyer for just that purpose. He’s smiling-- has been since he left Alec’s place less than an hour ago.

Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way into his apartment. It’s still early and he goes directly to his french doors where the sunlight is streaming through the windows.

It’s a beautiful day. He feels light. Happy.

He hadn’t been anticipating seeing Alec for a few days, at least. He’d climbed out of bed yesterday at a dastardly early hour and thrown on the closest outfit, intent on going to Uptown, drinking his weight in coffee, and catching up on his work.

What a coincidence that he’d run into Alec. They’d only talked for a few minutes but it’d filled Magnus with warmth, an almost giddy feeling rising in his chest. God, he was so gone over this boy.

He really hadn’t been angling for a dinner invitation but Alec had extended one anyway and Magnus was helpless to resist. He’d spent the better part of the day at Uptown, working and trying to ignore the looks Luke had been casting his way.

Finally, when getting a refill, he’d asked Luke why he was looking at Magnus like he was trying to smuggle the Mona Lisa out of the Louvre.

“We’ve been friends for what, three years,” Luke had asked.

Lips quirking, Magnus had agreed. “That sounds about right.”

“You don’t strike me as particularly shy, Bane.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“Or cowardly.”

Growing more confused by the second, Magnus had replied, “I try not to be.” Tilting his head, his voice had been dry as he’d slowly asked, “What’s this about, Luke?”

With a piercing look, Luke answered, “How much do you know about Alec?”

Blinking at the change in subject, Magnus’s shoulders had come down instinctively at the safe topic. “I know that he’s kind and intelligent and has a work ethic that most would envy.” Smiling, he adds, “His ass isn’t half bad either.”

Barking out a laugh, Luke nodded to himself like his answer was what he’d been wanting. “So you’re good friends, then?”

Magnus couldn’t stop his wistful look. “I think we’re getting to be great friends, actually.”

More perceptive than Magnus would like, Luke had asked, “But you want to be more?”

Considering, Magnus had stared at him for a minute. He couldn’t forget that Luke was extremely close to Alexander, like family. Was Luke about to warn him off?

“Why,” he’d asked warily.

Shaking his head, Luke muttered under his breath what sounded like, “Dumbasses, the both of you.”

Looking up from the espresso machine, he’d taken one hand, pointing a finger in Magnus’s direction. “All I’m going to say is that if you want something, you should go for it. It’s what you do best and at the rate things are going, you’ll both be dead before one of you gets your shit together.”

Nonplussed, Magnus asked, “What are you talking about?”

Sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Luke said, “So you’re friends with Alec, right? And you’re getting to know him. But it’s still early yet, Magnus. There’s a lot you don’t know, things that can only come from time and continued familiarity. But I’ll tell you one thing.”

He leans closer and Magnus echoes the action, feels ridiculous as he does so.

“Alec is a good man but he’s an expert at denying himself. The media likes to paint him as a playboy with more fluff than sense in his head. They’re dead wrong.” Before Magnus can agree, Luke continues. “He’s hyper-aware of his reputation and knows better than anyone that it’s as much curse as blessing. He’d never do anything to push that onto someone else.”

“Okay,” Magnus drawls out, trying to piece the obvious hidden meaning behind Luke’s words together.

Looking impatient, Luke says, “All I’ll say is that if you like Alec-- in any way-- you should tell him because he’ll never tell you first. He wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position. That boy has the tragic and extremely annoying habit of backing away just when things mean the most.”

Unable to ignore Luke’s pointed emphasis, Magnus finally starts getting the picture. Hope blooms in his chest as his mind reels.

Luke knows Alec. Is he saying that Magnus’s feelings aren’t unrequited?

Thoughts preoccupied, he’d absently offered his thanks as Luke had handed him his drink. He’d walked over to his table, sitting down heavily and taking a sip.

The rest of the afternoon had passed in a blur. He hadn’t gotten any more work done, too busy thinking over the past few weeks. He could see where things may have meant more than either of them had said, could feel hope cling stubbornly.

He’d left Uptown Java resolved. Luke was right. He was Magnus Bane and he’d never hesitated a day in his life, not when he wanted something. He’d let Alec into his head and forgotten just who he was. After a quick stop home to drop his bag and freshen up, he'd left again shortly. Following his phone’s GPS he’d gone over to Alec’s, making a note to catalog anything that seemed more than just friends.

Magnus couldn’t deny that it felt good to know that he was the only one Alec had ever invited over, the only person he’d trusted enough to give his address to, to let in to his private sanctuary. It was a heady feeling.

He could listen to Alec talk for hours, about the piano or obscure German philosophers or how to make spaghetti. The man was endlessly interesting and his celebrity was the least of it.

He couldn’t help himself from asking a leading question, affecting a casual tone even as his heart had thudded almost painfully in anticipation.

And that’s what I am? A friend?

Alec’s startled look had been adorable and Magnus’s heart had turned over, that damned hope igniting further when he’d heard his answer.

As long as that’s what you want.

He couldn’t help but read more into that careful response.

Later in the evening, when he’d finally just said an internal fuck it, he’d been sure. He was no longer afraid that Alec would see him as just another fan, a leech onto his fame. They were friends and that foundation grounded Magnus.

Alec’s reaction to his not-so-innocent question had been enthralling. The rush of heat to his cheeks, his stunned expression, the way those beautiful eyes had darkened when he’d registered the connotations.

Magnus had felt a wave of overwhelming heat lick up his spine as Alec had strolled over to him, bringing arms up to surround Magnus with his strength and scent and feel.

He’d been breathless before they’d even kissed and what a kiss it had been.

No doubt about it, yesterday had been eventful. Magnus’s smile widens as he realizes that it’s already seared onto his memory. Whatever happens with Alec, its beginning was perfect.

Turning away from his balcony, Magnus pulls out his phone, notes absently that it’s almost dead. As he unlocks it, he sees dozens of notifications.

Shaking his head a little, he’s surprised at himself all over again that he’d suggested they try to fuck with the press. In the back of his head, he knows that they don’t stand a chance but he thinks that he’s finally accepting that it’s okay. He’ll shoulder whatever happens as long as he has Alec to guide him.

His follower count on Twitter has increased by another hundred and he taps on create tweet without pause.

I think my new favorite food is spaghetti.

He hits send, wry twist to his mouth.

He’s almost thirty but he’s had this account for years. It’s an eclectic mix of mini history lectures, obscure observations, and whatever else catches his eye. A random declaration of food isn’t out of the normal for him, though he wonders if Alec will see it-- and what he’ll have to say about it.

Moving over to Instagram, he sees that his follow count has almost doubled in the past week.

He goes to Alec’s profile and sees that there are several hundred comments on the wine glass picture from last night. Tapping on the post, he scrolls through a few, brows raising higher at each comment.

Omg who do you think he’s with??!!

I bet he’s with his new “friend”.........

Dude he has to be so into this guy. Alec Lightwood doesn’t stay in for just anyone

This looks so domestic. Do yall think he has a secret bf??

There are a few spare mentions of him, but mostly people seems to be speculating in general. He has a handful of notifications from Twitter after just a couple of minutes. When he reopens the app, he sees that there are already a dozen likes on his spaghetti tweet with a few comments. He can’t help but notice that all of the usernames-- he rolls his eyes, except one-- has a reference to Alec.

Fkjfhgksjdf I bet he drank WINE with that spaghetti.

Tbh any food would be my favorite if I was with Alec.

No one cares.

That last comment is from Raphael and Magnus knows that his friend isn’t stupid. They hadn’t met since Raphael had seen them together at Columbia’s diner-- between work and Magnus going to London, there’d been no time.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting, to say the least. Undoubtedly, Raphael had already told Cat and Ragnor what he’d seen on campus. With a sigh, Magnus knows that he’ll be walking into an inquisition at family dinner tomorrow.

He locks his phone and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. Drinking half of it right then and there, he heads to his bedroom, plugging his phone into his charger.

That done, he strips, throwing his clothes into the hamper before padding into his bathroom.

He takes a quick shower, throwing on a clean pair of sweats and crashing onto the couch half an hour later. He spends the rest of the day working. He grades discussion posts and enters grades online, catching up on his emails, too.

It’s hours later, early in the afternoon, when he stands up, stretching his back with arms overhead.

He retrieves his phone and sees a text from Alec.

My driver will pick you up at seven. You don’t have any allergies, right?

With a smile he knows is too fond, Magnus replies, Seven sounds perfect. Will you be in the car, too, darling?

And no, I’m not allergic to anything.

He doesn’t even have time to put his phone down when it lights up with another text.

I’ll meet you there. There was an issue with my schedule and I’m working with my team to smooth things out.

I can’t wait to see you tonight.

Biting his lip, trying to keep the smile from becoming a grin, Magnus just texts, I hope everything works out. I’m excited, too.

Looking at the nearest clock, he sees that he has a few hours before it’s time for dinner. He throws on a pair of tennis shoes, deciding to go for a run.

The next hour flies by. He has a route he follows in the city that’s a mix of sidewalks and park paths and as his shoes slap against pavement, Magnus’s mind is distracted. He wonders about tonight-- where is Alec taking him. He puts together and promptly discards a dozen outfits as the city blurs together.

When he finishes his run, he comes to a stop in front of his apartment building, breathing harshly with hands at his hips.

After a few minutes, he heads inside, taking the elevator to his loft. He goes directly to his balcony, grabbing the yoga mat he keeps by the door. He spends the next little while emptying his mind, going through poses on autopilot as he relaxes and cools down.

Finishing his workout for the day, Magnus feels clear, free in a way he hadn’t managed since before the UK-- traveling was hell on his workouts.

He hops into the shower, taking his time and using all of his favorite products. He brushes his teeth, padding into his closet wrapped in just a towel. Going through his clothes, he gives each article a considering look. He finally decides on an outfit that could work anywhere except Burger King and moves to his vanity where he applies makeup and styles his hair.

When he finishes, he moves to his floor length mirror, gives himself a thorough onceover. He looks good. Sharp, elegant.

He’s ready for this date, can feel the thrum of anticipation wind its way through him. As far as first dates go, this one is almost guaranteed to go well and that takes a lot of the pressure off. He’s not worried about making small talk or gauging interest. Really, it feels like any other time he’s seen Alec except for the knowledge that they’re both ready for this next stage, for more.

He puts his watch on, seeing that he has just a few minutes until he’s due to be picked up. He’s wondering how he’s supposed to know that the car is here when his cell rings.

“Hello,” he asks, picking it up.

“Good evening. Is this Mr. Bane?”

“It is,” Magnus says, curious.

“Hello, Mr. Bane. This is Dave, Alec’s driver. I hope you don’t mind, but he gave me your number. I wanted to let you know that I’m downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down,” Magnus says. They say goodbye, hanging up and Magnus raises a brow, thinks to himself, We’re not in Kansas anymore.

With a last minute to make sure he has his wallet, keys, and phone, Magnus leaves his apartment. He sees a car pulled in front and as he walks outside, sees who is presumably Dave standing near the back door.

“Mr. Bane?”

Smiling warmly, he says, “Magnus is just fine. Dave right?”

Dave smiles as he opens the door, gesturing Magnus inside. ‘That’s right. Are you ready for your date tonight?”

Chuckling, Magnus replies, “More than ready.”

He climbs into the backseat of the late model Lincoln town car and can’t help but marvel at the ride. Rationally, he knew that Alec had money-- he’d be a fucking fool not to-- but it’s quite another thing to experience a uniformed driver picking him up in a hundred thousand dollar car.

It’s a smooth ride and only takes twenty or so minutes before they’re pulling up to a restaurant that Magnus has never been to. Dave shifts into park, comes around and opens the door for Magnus.

Magnus gets out, shooting an appreciative look to the driver. “Thank you, Dave.”

Dave tilts his head, grinning. “Sure thing, Magnus. Alec is probably already inside but just in case he isn’t here yet, I’m to tell you that the reservation is under Lightwood.”

With a murmured thanks, Magnus nods and turns toward the front doors where a doorman is standing at attention. As he starts walking, the doorman smoothly opens the door, carefully expressionless.

Going through the doors, Magnus takes in the interior. The light is muted and the decor is dusted in dark wood and gold accents. It’s timeless, sophisticated, and while Magnus is well-traveled, he can’t help but feel the slightest bit out of place, a touch gauche. He heads to the maitre d, who looks up with a warm smile at his approach.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation with us?”

Returning that smile, Magnus answers, “Yes, I believe it’s under Lightwood?”

Like a magic word, the man straightens, eyes widening. His smile-- already friendly-- turns up a notch as he looks at Magnus, a little stunned.

“Of course, sir. Follow me, please.”

Magnus follows the host to a table in the corner. There’s already a bottle of wine breathing on the table as he’s guided to his chair. He takes a seat and a second later, a waiter is heading over to his table.

He’s given a menu and as he scans it over, he sees that it’s contemporary American fare.

The waiter pours a glass of the wine and with a smile, leaves him to his own devices. He has barely enough time to finish reading the appetizers when from his periphery he sees a figure walking towards him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Alec says, hurried. “Traffic from Manhattan was obnoxiously busy.”

“It is New York City on a Saturday night, Alexander,” Magnus teases.

Alec just rolls his eyes before giving Magnus a warm, slightly stunned look. He clears his throat. “You look great.”

Smiling, Magnus replies, “No need to sound so surprised. You sound like I regularly look like a vagabond roaming the countryside.”

Magnus works to muffle his laugh as he watches Alec’s face grow slightly panicked. That laughter turns to liquid affection when Alec reaches out, seemingly on autopilot, covering Magnus’s hand in a supposed gesture of reassurance. “Of course not. I didn’t mean anything like that. You-- you always looks amazing, but tonight-- wow,” Alec breathes, coming to an abrupt end.

Magnus flips his hand, interlacing their fingers. “Wow yourself, darling.”

Alec’s wearing a crisp, snowy white button down with an open throat, paired simply with black slacks. His hair is going every which way and he looks good enough to eat.

The two of them are gazing at each other, surroundings disappearing into the background, when their attention is snagged by a clearing throat.

Both of them snap their heads up and see the waiter standing at their table, menu in hand. Alec takes the proffered menu with his free hand, not letting go of Magnus.

“Gentlemen,” the waiter starts.

“Hey, Jeff, how’s it going man?”

Breaking his perfect posture, the waiter grins. To Magnus’s amused surprise, Alec and Jeff share a fist bump.

“Hey, Mr. Lightwood. I’m good. Graduated from high school a few few months ago and I’m taking classes at Tri-C while I work here.”

Settling back, Alec asks, “Major?”

“English Lit,” Jeff says, looking excited.

“Well, I’m happy for you, man, you’ve always loved obscure seventeenth century novels.” With a look at Magnus, Alec introduces them. “Jeff, I’d like you to meet Magnus. My boyfriend,” he adds, smile softening at the designation.

Jeff looks happy and holds out a hand for, presumably, Magnus to fist bump. Which he does with alacrity. “Nice to meet you, Jeff.”

Alec looks between the two of them, grinning and looking more at ease than Magnus thinks he’s ever seen him. “I’ve known Jeff since he was a snot-nosed middle schooler. His brother and I went to high school together and when Joey-- the brother-- told me that he was opening a restaurant, I invested in it. I come in here every few months, whenever I’m in town and it just keeps getting better. The food is to die for.”

Shaking his head, Jeff looks pleased at Alec’s effusive praise. “We do the best we can,” he says modestly.

“Well, I can’t wait to eat, then,” Magnus says.

Jeff goes over the specials before leaving them to look at the menu. Magnus tries to concentrate on the entrees but he’s too aware of eyes on him.

“Alexander, I’m not on the menu,” Magnus says cheekily, not looking up.

“Too bad,” Alec says, unrepentant at getting caught staring. “You look good enough to eat.”

Lips quirking, Magnus shoots him a look. “Funny, I thought the same thing about you earlier.”

Their looks are more heated this time around and Magnus is hopelessly caught in Alec’s gaze. He can’t help but wonder at how easy things are between them. He’s never been such good friends with a date before. He doesn’t know if that’s the reason why they’re so comfortable with each other, but whatever it is, he’s glad for it.

He can admit privately that he’s never felt like this before. It’s an enthralling mix of interest and desire, all of it overlaid with warmth-- it’s almost too sweet but Magnus can’t get enough.

He doesn’t know how, but the two of them manage to cobble together an order, without seeming to look at the menu for more than a few seconds at a time-- their eyes keep returning to each other-- and once that’s done and the menus are taken away, Alec’s hand returns to Magnus’s.

Distantly, Magnus realizes that they fit together. Alec’s hand is warm in his, a familiar weight already, and the two of them talk about everything and nothing. They pass a couple of hours at the table in the corner. It’s a leisurely meal and by the time dessert rolls around, Magnus is full, feeling light and sated with a combination of good food, excellent wine, and perfect company.

After ordering dessert-- a perfectly American banana split-- Magnus settles back in his seat. His eyes take in Alec sitting across from him. He’s beautiful, Magnus thinks, taking in the way the candlelight dances across sharp cheekbones, a full mouth, the way it casts shadows over a face that looks like it could be carved from marble.

Without thinking, he slides a foot forward until it nudges gently into Alec’s. Alec’s mouth tilts, though he moves, hooking a foot behind Magnus’s ankle.

There have been a handful of silent stretches during this dinner but none of them have felt foreign, strained, like one of them was trying desperately to latch onto a topic. It feels more like an established relationship than a first date.

Magnus has had a question on the tip of his tongue all evening, but it’s only now that he thinks to voice it. “Alec?”

“Yeah?”

Taking another look around, Magnus sees that every table is full. The place is doing great business-- but no one is giving them a second look.

“Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t this a little bold for a couple who’s trying to stay under the radar?”

Alec chuckles before leaning forward. In the meantime, his thumb is sweeping over Magnus’s knuckles. “Jeff and his brother have a strict no-camera policy. Plus, most of these people are wealthy or famous. They don’t want anyone to bother them and they pay the same courtesy to everyone else.”

Nodding, Magnus looks at the dining room with new eyes. Now that he’s looking for it, he can see the signs of wealth-- the flash of a Rolex, suits that probably cost more than Magnus’s rent, a handbag that is definitely from next year’s spring line.

“Interesting,” Magnus says slowly.

Smiling, Alec agrees. “Yeah, interesting. When Joey first had the idea for this place, I was venting about how I was stopped wherever I went. I couldn’t get a burger without the paps tailing me. So, he had the idea to turn this place into a celebrity-friendly establishment.”

Magnus narrows his eyes. “How did he get the clientele for that? I can’t imagine that people in the one percent would flock to a newcomer’s place when he had no reputation or even experience.”

With his free hand, Alec rubs the back of his neck. “Since I was a silent partner, I had a vested interest in the success of the business. I might have put the word out. Joey used to make dinner for the team after games and I knew he could cook. With a little bit of financial help, I knew he’d make it. I just spread the word.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says softly. “You were just looking out after your investment.”

Before Alec can respond, Jeff is placing dessert in the middle of the table, laying down spoons. “Enjoy gentlemen,” he says formally.

Alec and Magnus wait a minute before laughing at the snooty accent. “I hope you don’t mind Jeff. I’ve known him and his family so long that he’s a little more relaxed when he waits on my table.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all. I like that people don’t cower before you. It speaks well of your character that people-- especially those that know you-- aren’t intimidated or hesitant.”

The two grab their spoons before diving in. It’s good, though that’s mostly because it’s hard to mess up such a simple, traditional dessert. The two of them eat in silence for a minute, enjoying the ice cream and hum of the restaurant before Magnus looks up, gaze zeroing in on the bit of hot fudge smeared on Alec’s mouth.

He debates for a minute, but ultimately Magnus reaches out, thumb sweeping over Alec’s full bottom lip, wiping away the chocolate. Meeting Alec’s eyes, he pops his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Though his expression doesn’t change, he’s smirking internally when Alec looks to stop breathing for a minute, eyes glued to where Magnus’s thumb is still in his mouth.

“Christ,” Alec mutters.

“Something wrong, Alexander?”

Alec glares at him. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus says innocently. “Did you want to walk around with chocolate all over your face?”

Alec tries to maintain his glare but his lips tilt and he’s smothering a laugh behind his hand. “You could have just let me know,” he says dryly.

Grinning, Magnus replies, “And what’s the fun in that?”

The two of them finish dessert and Alec’s signing the check when Magnus realizes he still has something to tell him.

“Alexander?”

Alec doesn’t look up from where he’s presumably calculating the tip. “Yes?”

“How’d that song with Catarina turn out?”

Absently, Alec starts, “Pretty well, actually, I’m recording next week--”

His head snaps up as he looks at Magnus incredulously. “How did you know that? That’s confidential information.”

Arching a brow, Magnus answers, “A little birdie told me.” When Alec’s expression doesn’t change, Magnus adds, “Didn’t I tell you? I’m Madzie’s godfather.”

Alec splutters, getting out, “What?”

“Small world, huh?” Magnus grins. “I’ve known Cat and her husband Ragnor since college-- Ragnor is actually a professor with me at Columbia.”

Falling silent, Magnus gives Alec a moment to process.

“Small world, indeed,” he murmurs a few minutes later. Shaking his head, Alec continues, “What are the chances that the one artist I’ve collaborated with so far is your best friend?” It’s then that Alec covers his face with his hand. From behind his palm, Magnus hears, “Oh God, I ranted to you about how much I loved her and how much she intimidated me.”

Magnus laughs, endeared at Alec’s embarrassment. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t tell her just how nervous you were about meeting for the first time. Plus, your session went well, right? Nothing to worry about.”

Dropping his hand, Alec looks at him for a moment. “What are the chances,” he repeats.

Magnus doesn’t have an answer, any possible response he could think of vanishing when Alec brings their joined hands up and kisses the back of Magnus’s fingers.

Goddamnit, he thinks absently. I’m falling for you.

The topics move on to discussing other friends as they stand and make their way to the exit.

As they walk through the front door, Alec says, “I was thinking we could walk for a little bit? The park is just a few blocks away and it’s a nice evening. If you’d rather not, though, Dave can be here in a few minutes--”

Magnus gives Alec’s hand one last squeeze before releasing him as they get to the sidewalk. “A walk sounds perfect, Alexander.”

The two of them start walking at a meandering pace. Close, but not too close. Magnus immediately misses Alec’s hand, feels the phantom sensation of where they’d been joined just seconds before.

They talk about inanities as they stroll down the block. Magnus is looking ahead, giving an impassioned diatribe on Dippin’ Dots of all things, when his voice cuts off as he’s whisked into an opening between storefronts.

“Alec, what on earth-- oomph.”

His voice cuts out for the second time as he lands solidly against the brick wall of the alley, immediately surrounded by Alec and being kissed to within an inch of his life.

Everything disappears except for the feeling of Alec’s hands on his waist, the feel of having him so close more intoxicating than the wine they’d drank with dinner.

Magnus loses track, has no idea how many times they break apart for a desperate breath before diving back in. He doesn’t care that the brick is no doubt ruining his silk blend shirt, not when the contrast between the wall behind him and the long line of Alec at his front is so delicious.

His head tilts back, noise escaping him as Alec bites down on the column of his throat. Fuck, right over the mark he’d left last night and Magnus’s hips buck up when he freezes.

Even with his eyes closed, he sees a flash, hears the distinct sound that can only be the shutter of a camera.

He wrenches away. He barely registers Alec’s dazed and confused look before his head is turning to the side where he sees a teenager lowering her phone. Alec follows his stare and freezes, too.

There’s no denying what they’ve been doing. Their breathing is labored, Alec still has one hand wrapped around Magnus, and the back of Alec’s shirt is untucked.

Magnus has no idea what to do. His brain is blank. He can almost hear the chirping of crickets as he tries desperately to grasp onto a thought. Between being so close to Alec just a moment ago and the sudden jarring of the camera, he literally can’t think.

Alec doesn’t look better, though after a moment he shakes his head, frowning. The girl, for her part, looks startled herself.

“Hey,” Alec says easily.

Magnus looks at him, a touch incredulous. Hey?

“Hi,” the girl replies, sounding unsure.

Alec clears his throat, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. “What’s your name?”

“Carla.”

“Hi, Carla,” Alec says, warm smile on his face. “As you undoubtedly know, I’m Alec. This--” he tilts his head towards Magnus, “Is Magnus. I know the answer is probably pretty obvious, but did you just take a picture of us?”

Carla swallows. “Yeah?”

“What are the chances that I could get you to not post that picture and not to tell anyone about what you saw?”

Narrowing her eyes, Carla replies, “Pretty good, actually.”

Magnus’s brows raise and a quick looks at Alec finds that he looks just as surprised at the easy agreement.

“Really,” Alec asks.

She shrugs. “Really. I was walking when I saw you duck in here and I couldn’t stop from getting a pic. But, like, you’re a person? If you ask me not to do something, I won’t do it. After thinking about it,” she continues sheepishly, “I probably shouldn’t have even come over here in the first place. You’re a celebrity but you deserve your privacy.”

Alec’s shoulders slump in relief. “Thanks, Carla. We really appreciate that. What do you want in return?”

Carla bites her lip before shaking her head. “You don’t have to bribe me not to say anything. I know that you have no reason to trust me but I’m not, like, a crazy fan. I’m not going to blab to the first person I see. Promise.”

This time Alec’s eyes warm with his smile, turning it genuine. “Thank you. It means a lot. That doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to make it worth your while though,” he laughs. “So what can I do for you?”

She hums, narrowing her eyes. “Can I get a photo with you? And an answer to any three questions?”

Alec narrows his eyes right back, giving her a considering look before muttering, “Done.”

“Is Magnus your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Alec says easily, shooting him a smile. Magnus can’t help but return it, foolishly.

“Was he who you were talking about at you GMA concert?”

Alec nods. “He was,” he confirms.

Taking a minute to consider, Carla asks her last question. “Will you ever perform Carousel acoustically again?”

Alec barks out a laugh. “You know what,” he says. “I think I just might do that at my next New York show.”

Looking satisfied, Carla hands Magnus her phone. Alec walks over to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders as Magnus takes the picture, getting a few takes so that she has options. When that’s done, Alec turns, leaning down to give her a hug. From where Magnus is standing, it looks like he whispers something to her, though at this distance, he can’t hear it.

A minute later, they’re breaking apart and Magnus hands Carla her phone back. “I took a few,” he says, smiling at the girl.

Carla grins. “Thanks, Magnus. Sorry, again, for interrupting. I promise I won’t say anything." With a last look at both of them, she turns around and walks away without a backwards glance.

Alec and Magnus gravitate to each other, stepping until they’re leaning against each other. Alec wraps an arm around his shoulders as Magnus's goes around his middle.

“What are the chances she was telling the truth?”

Alec hums. “I’d say fifty-fifty. I think she has good intentions, but it might be too juicy for her to keep to herself.” He looks over at Magnus, gives him a considering look. “Are you going to be okay if she does spill the beans?”

Magnus barely thinks about it. He’s tired of the weight of expectation dragging at his heels. Que sera, sera.

He knows what he signed up for and, after all, if he wanted to go out with Alec then he wanted to enjoy it. He didn’t want to be constantly looking over his shoulder for a wayward camera.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Good,” Alec says, voice unimaginably warm.

He takes Magnus’s hands, pulling him out of the alley. It’s dusk now, sun setting, and after just a minute, they enter the park, strolling along meandering paths. In the dark, it’s hard to see anyone and the two of them enjoy the relative anonymity.

Magnus debates but ultimately reaches out and grabs Alec’s hand. Alec shoots him a look, soft smile on his face as he intertwines their fingers.

Biting his lip, Magnus looks away, grinning. So, they’re not subtle. He doesn’t care, can’t, not when it feels so good to hold his boyfriend’s hand.

They continue on the path, taking a pretty damn romantic walk. Magnus can’t help but think that this is the best first date that he’s ever been on. He hopes, quietly yet fervently, that it’s just the first of many.

#httbt #my writing

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frop · 8 years

Text

I GOT THE GO AHEAD TO TALK ABT KIRA from like. 3 different people so i Suppose i have to now

i didnt really have anything planned out so im just gonna toss shit out there. also bear with me bc its gonna start off abt his hand fetish fgjdkjghsf and i really truly thought i was gonna keep this semi professional but its just not possible considering who i am as a Person

ok but listen what i think would be the most interesting thing to learn about is How exactly he went about his first murder and how he felt leading up to it you know? bc presumably he started because whatever shit he was using before hand (ahaha) just wasnt gettin him off well enough anymore.

Actually we know how he did it, because reimi told koichi and rohan that irl urban legend of the murderer killing the victim’s dog and taking its place under the victim’s bed and licking their land to make the victim think the dog was still alive, WHICH ended up being how reimi was killed (and yes, i too, wanted to die when i realized that was kira under her bed licking her hand and making whimpering noises dfhdkghfh) But whats interesting to note is that reimi wears a choker with hands holding on to each other at the front and coincidentally one of kira’s first instincts when he’s not able to indulge in his urges is to choke the woman he would target, as seen when he first starts living in the kawajiri home with shinobu.

Ok so i said that he might have started killing bc he usual material just wasnt doing it for him anymore but this man had a da vinci artbook in his house during the events of diu so Clearly he had the mona lisa book marked or some shit. i didnt really have much else to say abt this honestly it was just an observation from the anime bc i dont know if it was in the manga too? anyway.

Actually now that im thinking about it i dont know if his first murder was to satisfy his fetish. current kira, of course, its all he does it for, but 17 year old kira? maybe, maybe not. i mean, reimi herself says at the end that he didnt take her hands afterwards so either his first wasnt for the satisfaction OR it was, and he was just so overwhelmed with the fact that he did manage to kill someone and he just didnt think to take them at the time.

It Has Now Been A Full Day Since I Last Touched This So Let’s Go

@ his nail habits: SO his dad says that ever since he was little, biting his nails until they were raw and bloody was the only way he could vent his frustrations. Frustrations abt what exactly? who knows, it could have been general anxiety since we know he doesnt like being in the spotlight (i might just projecting a little too hard) OR they could have been his murderous urges showing up from a very early age. current kira, however, was only ever shown to do it once and it was when he killed hayato so its definitely a way to cope with incredible stress too.

he started collecting his nail clippings the year he killed reimi and the “”official”” timeline puts it as right before he committed the murder. So it definitely has something to do with how he felt in the time leading up to it i just cant pull anything out my ass that could possibly connect the two lmao. Anyway i really do think that he picked up the habit of collecting his nail clippings as a substitute for gnawing them off every time he felt on edge. and then i guess he just started making these far fetched connections abt the length = his luck for the year/month? (i dont remember and its 1am idc) which, are almost as far fetched as all my connections too.

OH FUCK ok i really truly believe in my hopeless romantic of a heart that he started having feelings for shinobu. ofc his situation at the time made him immediately rationalize it as ‘oh nono im just trying to keep up impressions. it would be mighty suspicious if my wife happen to die on me’ WHICH, is a valid point. however notice how he acted when he thought he had the rest of his life perfectly protected, he got real cocky and gave shinobu a kiss on the cheek, part of it was 100% to spite hayato but i think the other part was him letting himself relax and kinda indulge in the Married Life™️️ shinokira is terrible bc its so domestic and tragic it hits all my weak points.

Can’t believe i almost forgot to mention the fact that kira was only 1 (one) year older than reimi and that its entirely possible that they went to highschool together, especially considering how small morioh’s population seems to be even during the events of diu. whats even more fucked is the fact that arnold was more or less reimi’s guard dog and yet.. he didnt bark or alert reimi to anything when kira invaded their home which might mean that reimi and kira were on at least good enough terms for arnold to be able to recognize him as friendly. Doubly fucked bc that means kira must have been targeting her for a good while and figured the best way to strike would be to gain her trust.

ok i dont think i have anything else to add unless i suddenly get like a massive influx of thoughts in the minutes it takes me to wrap this up.

IN CONCLUSION, kira yoshikage is awful and terrible and is easily the most interesting villain in my humblest of opinions and im glad i got a chance to finally unload all these thoughts that make absolutely no sense whatsoever when put together in an essay format.

also no offense but kira yoshikage is mixed bc naturally blond blue eyed fully japanese men are just not likely and considering who kira is as a person he would never go so far as to dye his hair lets be real

#I SWEAR TO GOD I MEANT FOR THIS TO BE NO MORE THAN A PARAGRAPH #I DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED #basic grammar rules? dont know her. hope yall enjoy run on sentences #i use essay Very Lightly #chitchats #yoshikage kira #for my own reference

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 139

Day Two of the Food Festival! This one has a specific request from @baelpenrose, which was fun to play with in the Low-Stim session (always on day 2).

To everyone who has reached out to tell me how much they are enjoying getting to see Sophia actually relax and just have fun for once.... Y’all are the best! It’s been fun writing it, too.

New reader shout outs go to @corvallis, @penguin--person, @amphibiousuprising, @chip5-0, and I think @lostsoul8822. I think that’s everyone... If I missed you, please DM me, and I’ll add you to the next chapter.

On with the show!

The first day of the Festival, Conor and I ended up staying through not only Maverick’s shift but the one after, just so we could drag him to our favorite spots. Day two, however, Conor was on deck as Support Personnel as well as Maverick, and neither were assigned to me - for the first half of day two, we were in the Low Stim Mode, so I was pretty sure I could brave it on my own with everyone else’s proximity alerts and my own personal hyper-alertness preventing accidental bumps.

For me, the most exciting part was the different foods offered, and the fact that I could focus on just the food. Not having to ignore the other stimuli was a completely relaxing experience. The visual of the mural, with everything present, was still completely different in the even, indirect lighting. The dual nature of it was toned down significantly, leading to the overall feel being softer and overall more pleasant without being distracting.

Halfway through a very good pad thai, I spotted Derek and Sam sitting with Ivan and poking at something that Sam was clearly excited about and Derek was equally doubtful of. I circled around so they could see me approaching, and made a point to wave. “What do you think?” I asked, trying to sign as I spoke but hampered by the food in my hands.

“It was a good try,” Derek confessed, cheeks stuffed with something that had previously been on a plate to his left as a backup plan.

Setting my food down, I grinned mischievously. “Doing my best,” I signed, leading to laughter on all sides.

“You just told him you do him the best,” Ivan murmured, my face immediately flooding red.

“That is NOT what I meant,” I tried to explain out loud, over-enunciating while I clenched my hands in embarrassment.

To his credit, Derek signed what he seemed to understand I meant, emphasizing each sign. It was clear that I had gotten several out of order and added one that changed everything overall.

After repeating the signs and getting confirmation, I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “I tried.”

Ivan was trembling with laughter. “You. You did,” he admitted. “But that was… wow.” His head dropped on his hands as he shook silently.

“Souffle pancakes?” I offered, finger spelling the word souffle since I had no freaking clue how to actually sign it.

“Egg pancake,” Derek explained, poking the one I offered and contemplating the jiggle.

“It’s cinnamon sugar, and not gooey,” I explained.

Apparently I got that one right, because Derek immediately stabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth. The only judgement I needed was the fact that he dragged the entire remaining pancake onto his plate.

Sam watched his roommate before contemplating his own sample. Before he could even ask, I held up a cup full of macerated berries. “And fruit topping for you, sir.”

“Are those my berries?” he asked, skeptical.

I shook my head. “Bog standard, from the consoles. Your vegetables and fruits are being used in the other shifts. We didn’t want to give anyone here unexpected tastes.”

He nodded and dumped the entire cup of fruit over his pancake, digging in happily.

Ivan batted his eyes at me until I explained. “Sam’s produce has… unexpected pairings. Tomatoes that pair with cheesecake and wines, strawberries that really go well with steak…”

“The mango that goes with beer but not fish?”

“Yeah, that one. Von soil does strange things to produce, turns out.”

“Those matcha-edamame are amazing though.”

“For ice cream, yes. For tea, less so. They’re like… cooking matcha, almost.” I laughed. They actually worked better for ice cream than matcha did, oddly - reducing the sugar content but still giving the same flavor.

“One vendor on the last day is using nothing but my produce,” Sam announced happily. “They asked my permission.”

“That’s good!” I encouraged him. “They should always ask your permission to do things like that.”

“People ask with requisition forms,” he agreed. “Mona asked in person.”

Note to self: much more patronage at Mona’s normal spot, I swore in my head. She specialized in vegetarian dishes, and honestly made some of the best fried cabbage I’d had in my life. Knowing that she was so considerate of Sam cemented her as my new favorite takeaway place.

After a little more chat, I finally waved my goodbyes to everyone and strolled slowly to the next tempting stall. I wasn’t really in any hurry, and did more people-watching than I did eating. Latkes were infinitely more interesting when I could overhear people arguing over family recipes. A small bowl of udon was delicious, but not nearly as flavorful as the discussion around hot versus cold, what to top them with, egg or no egg… the only thing anyone seemed to agree on was that the smiling vendor ‘obviously’ ground their own flour, because the flour provided by the consoles was the wrong texture.

Another mental note: don’t learn to make udon. Despite what I had previously believed, it takes a lifetime to make it right, turns out.

Wandering further down, I was delighted by the discovery of something that was very clearly Hannah’s doing: demonstrations of older food prep techniques. Simon winked at me as he carried on a demonstration of - insanely - how to hand pull toffee. I didn’t know he could do that. Muna was demonstrating the correct way to make chapatis and handing them out as fast as she was making them. Clearly, she had been making them her whole life, because at no point did I actually see her look at them, but every single one was perfect.

Laughter erupted over my shoulder, and I whipped my head around to see the source. After wading through a crowd of smiling faces, I couldn’t help but join in. There, right in front of the entire Ark, was Maverick trying to flip takoyaki as fast as the person demonstrating, and ending up with just a mess of octopus and batter on his side. Both Maverick and the person guiding him were smiling, though, and in the end, the vendor handed Maverick four perfectly-round balls and quickly devoured all of the - less shapely, so to speak - ones on my partner’s side. With an exuberant cheer and extending his arms wide to the crowd, the man exclaimed “The first takoyaki of a new student are always my favorite! Nothing tastes better!”

After bowing to his sensei, Maverick turned and spotted me, face still flushed with laughter. He offered his food to a smaller man I did not recognize, who must have been the person Maverick was Supporting, before waving to me and continuing on. Despite the urge to crush him in a hug, I forced my feet to stay in place and reminded myself that he was working.

By the time I trusted myself not to race after him, I realized someone had been trying to get my attention and had resorted to messaging me rather than shouting. “Phee, I don’t know what la-la land you are lost in, but look 100 yards to your four.”

The hell was Arthur doing here? He wasn’t scheduled to work this shift, as far as I was aware. Craning my neck over my shoulder, I turned to see… Apparently a hallucination. It had to be. There was no chance in any of the nine hells that Arthur Farro was dishing out spaghetti, much less smiling while doing it.

Almost dreamlike, I found myself drifting over to confirm that I was wrong, only to be startled when he shoved a plate with not only spaghetti but two gorgeous pieces of garlic bread under my nose. “Special plates, you can’t smell anything unless it’s on purpose.”

“You… Spaghetti?” I asked, eloquent as ever.

“Family recipe.”

“Leaning into the stereotype a bit, aren’t you?” I asked carefully before shoving as much of one thick, crusty piece of toast in my mouth as I could.

He shook his head. “Anyone who tells you their family is Italian and denies having a family recipe for anything is a damned liar.”

Skeptically, I took a bite. It was amazing. “Ah ee deh rehahee,” I tried to get out around the heap of pasta I was steadily shoving in my mouth.

“Maverick is a very bad influence on your table manners,” he observed drily, plating more portions and handing them out. “And no. Not happening.”

“You know I can cook.”

“Not the point. I also know that you will fiddle with it until it is unrecognizable, so there’s really no point in giving it to you.”

Defiantly, I took a smaller bite and chewed carefully. “Garlic, onions, obviously. Sausage and minced… Lamb? But that’s probably just for this session, knowing you it’s spicy sausage regularly. I’m not getting carrot, though, so no soffritto? Unexpected…. Is that thyme, I’m tasting?”

“Rosemary, you heathen. And you’re still wrong.”

I mumbled to myself. “What did I get wrong? It’s gotta be the lamb… maybe he does usually use the lamb? I’m certain it is lamb…”

“It is lamb, and no, I don’t usually use it. But you left several things out.”

I stared at the plate again, confused. “I didn’t think I needed to mention the tomatoes….”

“Basil… oregano….” he drawled.

“Duhhh?” I poked through the last bite on my plate, sniffing it, trying to figure out what I was missing. “Fine, you win, I’m lost.”

“Mushrooms, Sophia. There’s mushrooms. Jeezus. It was an easy one, too.” He showed me a bowl full of what looked like cooked and crumbled sausage, only for me to realize it was the tiniest diced mushrooms I had ever seen in my life.

“I am dying to know how you got them that small.”

“With a knife?” He arched an eyebrow at me as he turned to start another batch of sauce.

“Yeah, no shit, Arthur.”

“Correct, there is no shit in the spaghetti,” he confirmed cheekily as the vegetables started sizzling.

“Asshole,” I laughed, scraping the remaining sauce from my plate with the piece of bread I saved just for that purpose. Just as I was frowning at the sauce-less plate and remaining half-piece of bread, a scalding hot dollop of fresh sauce invaded my vision.

“You love me, because I won’t let you frown at your bread like that.”

Fiiiinnnne I sighed in my head as I shoved a piece of saucy, saucy bread into my cheeks and waggled my fingers to let him get back to work.

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